The Four Pins Guide To Becoming An Art Expert

Art and fashion are as interchangeable as beef and horse meat. If you’re reading this site, you probably have the fashion game on lock, but there has never been a better time to become a certified Art Expert.

What’s in it for you? Uh, how about a rosé-dark sea of open-bar parties? Mad chicks, bro? The luxury of putting out a post-irony ironic mixtape of literally the worst music ever that’s met with a sea of responses like, “YES PLEASE”? And, at this point, it’s probably easier than becoming a menswear guru because, while there is an army of cads online and off to dissect why trad is the old plaid is the new rad, no one has any fucking idea what to do with, like, a blonde wigged-naked doll whose legs have been re-purposed into a nutcracker. That was actually a real thing.

Also, art is hilarious. Like seriously, an artist is going to have The National perform the same song for six hours at PS1 in May. That's the kind of shit we’re dealing with here, people. My credentials, you ask? If presented with two objects, one of which being a painting, I can tell you which one is a painting. Think that doesn’t sound like enough? Then read on!

Images courtesy of Flickr

Rachel Seville is a writer living in New York who believes in miracles. Read her blog, Pizza Rulez, here and follow her on Twitter here.

Declare Yourself An Expert

Go to Twitter. Click the wheel gear button on the upper right side and select “Edit profile”. Under “Bio,” type “Art expert.”

Expert Time!

You are now an expert. Start a blog. Write art stuff. But what art stuff? Perhaps you had to take one of those classes in high school or college that involved, like, zero research, but a lot of extrapolating universal truths from your limited worldview to produce feeeeeeeeellllllliiiiiinnnngssss masquerading as ideas. Nothing is better training for writing on the Internet. “Where are all the women artists?” is something you could write about for a show you haven’t seen. So is, “Is the middle class art proof?” I have no idea what that means, but it sure sounds sexy. Include other #deepthoughts, like a link to this with something like, “Let’s talk about process, not materials.”

Go To Some Openings

To take things to the next level, read Gallerist or ArtInfo or ArtCat and find some openings to go to. Swill that cheap wine, sidle up next to someone gazing at a painting and ask them what they think. Seriously, it’s the whole MO of Jerry Saltz, who is the boss don of New York contemporary art criticism. Do this three times. Now you’re building your network. Go back to the show post-opening and ask the gallery assistant to walk you through it. Don’t be nervous! FACT: Many a gallery assistant is a three-year-old standing on two boxes of old beepers a West Village hedge fund guy ordered in bulk in 1997. “Well, uh, about these beepers,” he said bashfully to a gallery manager in December of 1998, as he paid for a painting he’d just purchased, then wordlessly pushed the two boxes behind the desk. The gallery manager could do nothing, because the hedge funder just paid an obscene amount of cabbage for “I Can’t Stop Dreaming of Reality,” a painting of a birthday cake with the actual fingernails of racoons lacquered on top. “The work anticipated the nail art movement,” said the 2004 Whitney Biennial audio guide.

Adopt A Cynical, World-Weary Attitude

You’re shrewd, so start a lot of sentences with, “Look.”

“Look, this is a business.”

“Look, this is a jillion dollar industry.”

“Look, it’s not his best work.”

“Look, no.”

“Look, look.”

Read Stuff Or Don’t

You could read Saltz and Robert Smith and Donald Kuspit and Michael Fried. Or not. You could just go to an art museum, which is basically a brick and mortar Tumblr. Most new art is just old art with a joke inserted. Seriously. Seriously. Seeeeeriiiiioouuuusssllllyyyy.

Make Art References

You’re ready to go native, to really live the life, to be a true aesthete who just wants to surround himself with beautiful things, which means you have to make some art references. This is actually pretty easy. Here’s a key to discussing a few important topics:

Damien Hirst = Eye roll.

Maria Abramovic = Look reverential.

Basquiat = Say something about how he produced his best work in 1982-3.

Gagosian = Shrug like you’re apprehensively conceding to an unbeatable Goliath.

Hennessy Youngman = Look like a parent who “gets it”.

You get the idea. Say things about “process” and “light”. You can even tell jokes! “What is this, performance art?”

Go To Some Parties

Now for the fun part. The cool thing about art parties is that most of them are trying to raise money for...things. You don’t have to be invited! You can just pay a lot of money and look like you got it—it’s like what handbags are for women. If you want to get your snappy snapped, here’s a one-stop guide. Meet some strangers. If anyone asks what you do, sneeze or have a coughing fit or drop something like a pair of cymbals, say “Excuse me,” and then say, “I’m so sorry—what is it that you said you do?”

The Big Questions

If you’ve come this far, you’re more than an expert. In fact, you’re probably the puppeteer behind the entire industry. Now you get to ask the big questions like, “What is art?” Maybe write a blog post about it and tie it into an announcement of your retirement. This whole art thing, it’s played the fuck out. It’s time for you to become a DJ anyway.