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“First the air is blue and then,” as reports the diver, “it is bluer and then green and then / black I am blacking out and yet / my mask is powerful / it pumps my blood with power.”
Duty Free Art, “almost everyone is an artist.” Neoliberalism’s shotgun wedding of art and labor has undoubtedly birthed artists of all stripes—graphic artists, performing artists, makeup artists, body artists, burrito artists, bullshit artists, and scores more contemporary artists than a scarcity-principled market can accommodate.
“Negroes can never have impartial portraits at the hands of white artists,” Frederick Douglass wrote in an editorial for The Liberator nearly 170 years ago.
“Rebellion?” Lee Lozano asks in one of her late 1960s journals. “Ce-rebellion! Cerebellion.” The note, an offhand entry jotted out in ballpoint pen, seems a fitting way to describe the artist’s particular brand of artistic defiance, synthesizing as it does the tone, form, and ideology of her now-legendary conceptual practice, which manifested itself as a series of private acts of refusal.