Nirvana for senior men, an artist's solution
While pharmaceutical manufacturers are having a hay day catering to the needs of senior men with prescriptions for pills, artist David Hammons may have come up with a much better idea.
You see senior men have special needs. They have what I refer to as “no-go, and go-go” syndrome.
The “no-go” part has to do with sexual dysfunction. God made man for the purpose of “fathering” children. Eventually, that mission is accomplished and then God said, dry up, and man did.
But, man doesn’t really want to dry up so God directed chemists to produce a blue pill that causes man to regain his erectness, though with the possibility of some side effects such blindness, trouble breathing, and heart palpitations.
Then God said, you have a walnut-size prostate with nothing to do. God’s idea of a joke is to enlarge man’s prostate to the size of a grapefruit. Man wasn’t expecting that and neither was man’s bladder. Man is forced to go and go as never before, night and day.
Of course God directed chemists to produce more pills that make it easier to go while also shrinking the prostate. In the course of this, God employs hormones. Hormones make men want to go shopping. This is a conspiracy that God has with women.
The trouble in life as men grow senior is that there are not many places to go when men need to go. David Hammons has solved that problem so long as men adopt the values of being European and don’t mind public exposure.
“A Fraction of the Whole
For the past 40 years, the elusive artist David Hammons has explored race, creativity and politics – without gallery representation
David Hammons began his career by putting himself in the picture. In the late 1960s, while living in Los Angeles, the artist began a series of ‘body prints’, which he created by pressing his own margarine-coated form onto sheets of paper and dusting the impression with powdered pigment. Produced during the heyday of Black Power and the Black Arts Movement, these politically volatile self-portraits broadcast the inescapable presence of their creator, the black artist at the centre of the image. In many ways they anticipated the work that in later decades would win Hammons greater recognition – the sly assemblages constructed from greasy bags and chicken wings, stones covered with hair collected from black barbershops, abstractions created with basketballs and ‘Harlem earth’. Whether they are read as magic charms or as an ironic commentary on the stereotypes of African-American life, messy reality has always pressed itself into Hammons’ art work.
In recent years Hammons’ art has evolved into increasingly incorporeal undertakings, but in many ways the artist himself has continued to figure – to be a figure – in his work. As his fame has grown, he has earned a reputation for his evasive manoeuvres, for defying art world protocols. Yet the more Hammons side-steps the public sphere, the more present he seems, the more his own identity comes to be at issue. When a New York Times reviewer makes a point of referring to ‘the artist himself, whom I’ve never met, and chances are, never will’, it’s clear we are in the realm of something like personal mystique. But for Hammons persona is more than epiphenomenal: his work seems to a large extent to be about how he functions in the world. And it includes the conversation around it, the dialogue – public and private – that surrounds the artist’s activities.”