Do you ever feel that there is a twilight world full of people who have the Midas touch, who can turn any crazy idea into a money making machine - people who operate and think so differently to yourself as they get about in the jet set gilt clad world, that they may as well be from another planet?  I've peered into this world as they conjure up riches out of thin air (or from absolute crappy ideas), and I just scratch my head and wonder how they manage it.

On a recent visit to the Queensland Art Gallery, as I gazed at the exhibits the thought often entered my head - how the hell did this crap get chosen to hang on the walls in here, and more to the point, how did the 'artists' manage to wangle thousands of dollars out of the museum funds for it.  Case in point - this 'painting' by John Olsen, painted in 1961 entitled 'Journey into the you beaut country no. 2'.

I vaguely remember my kids bringing home paintings just like this in pre-school.  Now to me they were priceless because my wee darlings were the ones to paint them, but wtf were the curators thinking when they decided to pay thousands of tax payers dollars for the above picture?  What is the difference between the above scribble and a preschooler's efforts? I was trying to work out how this guy managed to paint crud and then palm it off as art and make a fortune out of it. Could I be sitting on a fortune with the big box of my kids' art which is stored in the hall cupboard?  I figure I have to mutate into one of those strange creatures which inhabit the twilight zone of the art world.  These mutants manage to hypnotise and manipulate gullible wannabees with plenty of money and no sense into believing they can join this wonderful twilight golden zone world too if they pay out enough money for what they're told is 'art'.  One of these mutants could probably convince a wannabee that a turd in the middle of a plate is art.

It reminds me of the old folk tale 'The Emperor's New Clothes'.  The people who want to inhabit the Twilight Zone don't dare voice their opinion that the 'art' is nothing but shit, just like the townsfolk didn't want to let anyone know that they could see the emperor naked.  Instead, they nod their heads, ooh and aah over it, and pull out their checkbooks to pay exhorbitant  sums for a  turd on a plate. 

And that is why I shall never inhabit that Twilight zone, I'll never develop the midas touch.  I am the boy who cries 'look!  The emperor has no clothes!', and  I am the woman who cries 'Look! That's just a turd on a plate!'

For more on 'artists' producing utter crap (literally! and wtf is the deal with the sheep and shite wearing guy?!) which is supposed to be art, visit Offended Blogger's post about offensive art.