by World-Renowned Art Critic Lee Alvarez
Having heard rumors of the mysterious art collective calling themselves “abstract_FETISH,” both online and at the wine parties where my associates and I get drunk and break bottles over each other’s heads, I was naturally curious when an announcement was made that they’d be putting on their first exhibition of performance art.
You may have heard of “abstract_FETISH” from their various online art pranks, such as the time they bought advertising space on every major news site and ran Japanese cartoon pornography. It took the networks over two months to realize what was happening and to remove the ads. They have also gained notoriety for creating a spam bot that sent an email containing the message “Do not forget that you are eventually going to die” in every known language to millions of email addresses.
The announcement of their show stated that space was limited and, as such, only a select few would get in. I emailed them immediately to inform them of my numerous, prestigious credentials and to request an interview with the collective.
I received an email that read, “Go yank your balls through your throat, you Nazi cuck.” However, the day before the event, I received an email telling me to visit a café downtown to meet their manager at 6:00 PM.
I arrived at the café right on time. It was empty except for one man sitting at a corner table. He held his hands to the sides of his head, rocked back and forth, and muttered quietly to himself. When I went up to ask if he was the manager for abstract_FETISH, he started and nervously introduced himself as Jeff. He led me from the café to an alley about a block away. We took a staircase to the space where the show was to be held.
It was a dimly lit basement with a makeshift stage on the other side of the room. Several people were gathered around the stage either sitting, standing, or squatting like they were about to take a shit. A rather large man stood with his back to the wall and stared daggers at me. I must admit, it made me very uncomfortable. Jeff also acted as the host for the night and welcomed everyone.
The first piece of performance art was a woman who pulled a used condom out of her pocket. She threw it on the stage floor and intentionally slipped on it. The audience, myself included, burst out in laughter. A clever satire of modern sexual relationships.
The second was a man with a severe case of acne vulgaris. He brought a blank canvas on an easel onto the stage, took out a straight razor and cut open each one of the zits on his disgusting pizza face. The man smeared his face all over the canvas until it was covered in blood and puss. He then auctioned the piece off, sounding like a cattle auctioneer. It sold to a young man in the audience for a broken pen and a piece of pocket lint. It was a fascinating commentary on the commercialization of art.
After that, an old man holding a guitar with no strings went on stage. He stared at the audience and breathed heavily. Jeff rushed him off stage. He apologized and stated that the old man was not associated with the show. A shame, as he had the most engaging piece of the entire night.
The next piece had a woman bring a typewriter on stage. She typed five pages before stopping to ask the audience if they enjoyed the soothing sound of the typewriter. When most of us answered that we did, she said that she was typing racial slurs and we should all be ashamed of ourselves. I love this woman dearly and I must find her again someday so I may stick my ding-a-ling in her.
I believe more pieces were to be presented. However, at this point, the large man at the wall walked over to me, called me a “soy-drinking Trump supporting racist spic,” and hit me so hard it knocked me out. I woke up several hours later in front of the café where I met Jeff.
Some of my fellow critics have dismissed abstract_FETISH as “poopoo peepee doodoo caca.” I must vehemently disagree and state that I think that they’re all fucking stupid. This showcase of the talent of abstract_FETISH is the best thing in the history of everything ever. I feel safe in saying that they’re the future of American art.