The Thousands

I write to you this week from the depths of end of semester study. The essay I’m chipping away it is about how once upon a time a heavy drinking guy called Clemmy, and peeps like him, used to tell us whose art was good and who was a phoney. Then came the wise-ass hipsters, spouting off about art on account of a ‘proliferation of media in the modern age’ kinda thing. No one cares what critics think anymore, curators are the cool kids now.

So if I wasn’t broke and holed up writing this essay, I’d be at the 17th Biennale of Sydney checking out what big-curator-guy David Elliott thinks is hot right now. Apparently there are exploding cars on an island.

The next best thing is to hear the big-curator-guy talk about all the art on Thursday afternoon at the Art Gallery (ya know, the big one, on North Terrace?). Elliot has directed major galleries in Stockholm, Tokyo, Oxford and Istanbul. So ya know, he is a big deal. As well as hearing about exploding cars, and the curatorial rationale behind one of Australia’s most important exhibitions, chances are you might get an insight into the mechanisms of the art world itself.