You should be terrified of the question posed by the heading on this blog post. Or maybe not, given the photograph I've used to accompany this post.* Over on Hyperallergic they've got an article on, and interview with, performance artist Xander Ibarra, aka, La Chica Boom. LCB had the idea to fold watercolor paper and place it in her skivvies while menstrating. When opened back up, the blood creates inkblots that in some cases do very much resemble those images used in a more traditional Rorschach test. In other instances they just look like bloody smears.
There are aspects of the art world, the creation of art, the methodology, the intent...where I'm not quite sure what I think of it. It's always those things that push boundaries and buttons (a crucifix in a jar of piss, elephant dung paintings, can o' shit) that give me pause. I don't hate it, at least not right away, but it does make me question what constitutes art? Is any thing art? Everything? Nothing? I question the validity of something that is compelled to be so heavy handed with its message and its execution.
*I chickened out and removed the photo. Baby Jesus on a used sanitary pad. So, now, what the hell does that say about me? I created the shot, but don't have the nerve to post it on a low traffic blog? Pathetic.
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