fart law

I stopped going to my Art Law class because I couldn't stand how elitist my professor was encouraging everybody to be. She disseminates the idea that "Art" is some talismanic invocation that, once uttered, shelters what can best be described as steamingly arrogant shit from criticism - not high-falutin interpretive criticism, in which she and only the art-educated few might engage, but pragmatic criticism, say, from those who disagree that a wide public space should be vivisected by an artist's self-aggrandizement in the form of a giant iron wall - and that those who would criticize are philistines, fascists, and shunners of light. Then with the right side of her mouth she insinuates that only real art should be protected, and disparages the relevance of people like Jock Sturges, and because this is an untenable position for a First Amendment literalist like herself, she begrudgingly admits Jock Sturges his rights but make sure all of her acolytes in her 150 minutes of weekly self-inspection sessions know that she doesn't really think his art is of high enough quality to be considered among more critically-acclaimed artists. Sometimes it just makes me want to shout at her that her entire empire has no clothes on, but instead I opt not to go at all, or to go, sit in the back, and read Oliver's del.icio.us links instead.