I like looking at pictures on Flickr. Some are good, some not so good and some damned good. Then, there are the pretentious arses who feel the need to use artsy-fartsy titles for everything. It’s a picture, not a painting, and even if you think you’re an artist, you’re not, you’re a photographer. I have an Ansel Adams print on my wall, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s art. It’s a photo. An excellent one, but still a photo. Paintings and sculptures that look like something are art (no, the pile of junked car parts that you welded together and called “Industrial Man” doesn’t look like anything, and neither does throwing paint on a canvas like a three-year-old with ADHD). Photography is just photography. Oh, and in case you were wondering, “performance art” isn’t art, either; it’s a desperate plea for recognition by an attention whore who lacks any real talent.

Then again, I suppose that pretentiousness is somewhat better than being a repressed serial killer, like the guy with the photo titled, “On the last day i took her where the wild roses grow” that features a mud (I hope) covered, apparently nude man, crouched in the grass, holding five dead roses (cultivated, incidentally, not wild) and staring off into space. Freak–did you strangle her after the last day?