Parallel Contemporary Non-Art, the Everywhere Ocular Assassin

Warning: this article contains two offensive images

Impugnation... I feel strongly about these masterpieces; villainous inflictions let's call them – the proliferating picture-paintings that idiotic hands mount incessantly in rental apartments and hotel rooms across Europe and, dare I extrapolate, the known world. I've had the recent misfortune to meet with two of these emetics; you may have been blighted by more. Shown below are the perpetrators of my assault – acute and variegated manifestations of cruelty that don't only cause the eyes to suffer, since a single grasp of the slapdash frame gives out a most plastic squeak as the perspex cover drops out. Touching such a thing is like smashing one's foot through a barbed window to screech twenty well-protruding toenails down a blackboard until they snap off. Sensorily the experience of coming into contact with examples like these is incredibly painful. Effective retaliation requires an unfailing resilience, but it can be done.

The Extermination Gallery

1st place: Inducing panic inside a rented apartment

2nd place: Plaguing the wall of a hotel room

It's a little difficult to understand the instinct of the passive-voracious contemporary social animal to engage in this practice of celebrating the widely assassinative deadening of visual art. Sartre did mention that life is a series of meaningless choices, but the above selections are the most meaningless of all – this time there's no excuse. Liberal existentialism can't save such items of domesticated evil, the opposite in fact, it must unreservedly condemn them. Today's humanitarian must serve the sensory wellbeing of our communities; please remove these pseudo-pictures wherever you find them.

To dispose, clench yourself and lift identified offenders off the carelessly-placed nails and kick them out of the door. Or better still drown the things; really weigh them down with severe water damage so they can't fly back to that edge-of-town warehouse where their gormless procurers plucked them from. I implore you, anyone, to put a dirty plant pot tray on the wall, an abused piece of newspaper that old boots have dried on; spit breakfast tea across oversized paper and hang that up demurely, anything!; anything for any wall but a counterpart of the two uncaring beasts revealed above. A simple chamber filled with these harbingers of evaporated happiness would put the strongest intelligences to the torture test. Yet the weakest minds populate living space and hotel rooms with them. Why? I ask as I rip my hair at the sight of one. Have our vices mirrored over to this parallel of drudgism? No. A mass appreciation of the worst things is not culture. It is pulling the tail of the body in front of you as the closed collective plods in one obfuscated circle.

Reset action: Wake up, your mind is in danger if you've seen one of these images in your vicinity. Staring at something with no intended visual appeal is the only remedy. Gawp at an air-conditioning unit and cleanse your acceptable-beauty threshold. Redefine what you encounter and annihilate the sub-mediocre decorative habit with tobernite venom. Plain walls are ok. Landlords and hoteliers, mass-procurers take note. Unquestionably these enemy items must be banished from view; banished to their very own proxy Swedish prison that doesn't allow visitors. Imagine the stubborn posters as a decorative oil slick polluting the sea, permanently floating until a squeeze of potassium permanganate is administered to imbrue and de-stink the efflivial sludge. Through a purple hue would come the last ugly blink of the framed chancre as it expires and sinks itself far away from any internal wall.

Eye hospitals are unprepared for the influx of new injuries if this retaliative appeal goes unheeded. Don't let the chancres, these hotel-rental atrocities, overmultiply and make low-jawed ammonites of us. Exposing them to view is but one other way of confiscating an individual's verve in the long flash of an eye. Don't let the next victim be you. Practice the reset action. These images, a parallel contemporary Non-Art, are not our cultural nemesis.

For the immediate moment here's some reassurance:

  Click here to view one antidotal antagonist of bad print-paintings and parallel Non-Art

in the Peanut Society of Lucubrators private art gallery   in The Peanut Society of Lucubrators  in private art gallery

(Reset action illustration courtesy of Filthy Feet Photos)

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