And I cannot stress this enough: bury their bones in an unmarked ditch.
Those are original Warhol boxes. Two Brillos, a Motts and a Campbells tomato soup. Multiple millions worth of original art, set on the floor by the front door.
Theres a regular customer whom i do plumbing work for, for the last 3 or 4 years. These belong to her. She also has Cherub Riding a Stag, and a couple other Warhols that i cannot identify, along with other originals by other artists that i also cannot identify. I have to go back to her house this coming Monday, i might get photos of the rest of her art, just so i can figure out what it is.
Even though i dont have an artistic bone in my entire body, i can appreciate art. I have negative feelings on private art like this that im too dumb to elucidate on.
eat the fucking rich. they are good for nothing.
You're shitting on them by blindly reacting on them shitting.
Lots of people that don't like a specific piece of art may call it "not art" as a subjective take.
Shitting on them because they don't like it and went far enough to say that it wasn't art to them is tiresome self serving snobbery to me, even if I disagree with them and do think something can be art even if one doesn't like it.
I'd rather defend well meaning comrades that happen to not like the pretentious and bleak "the artist is better than you, everything that comes after him owes him for its existence and even your dislike of his work is part of his master plan, dance puppets dance" messaging of the rich fed-subsidized asshole even if they aren't academically correct in how they say they dislike it, rather than knee-jerk defend the pompous hypocritical elitism of Andy Warhol and his now-establishment status quo fandom.