My Kid Could Paint That

Slothrop: People who pay thousands of dollars for a painting merely because a child painted it have a severe case of childfetishization syndrome, a disease currently afflicting 98% of America, and should be subjected to hours and hours of ass-headed bottom's drunken rhetorical vitriol. While this film does a good job of discussing media manipulation and celebrity, and to a lesser extent modern art, it doesn't once offer the idea that a painting that is hailed a masterpiece remains a masterpiece even it is suspected that it wasn't painted by a four year old girl. (That people will do anything to make a buck is a stale idea and though the film does spend significant time on it, it's not all it does, thankfully.)  I feel fundamentally sullied by the idea that art is as much about the creator as it is about the creation. The reason we have art in the first place is to move beyond the limits of what is known and to explore the infinite realm of the imagination. If suckas think their painting is less beautiful because it wasn't painted by a young child, I hope they discover it was created by a smurf. That'll give 'em something to think on.