Tobias Madison in a review of Seth Price’s essay ‘Fuck Seth Price’, wrote that “Our euphoria turned to anger and back again many times: anger towards a system whose ostensible balance and narrative technologies seduce its observers only to make rubble of the sphere of the self – something most of us have probably experienced within neoliberal capitalism. Our mixed feelings eventually reached consensus: ‘You know what? Fuck Seth Price!’ – which, before we left, I scrawled in marker on a lampshade in the bar.”
I think this is bullshit. To me it reads not as something someone would shout or scribble in frustration, rather, as an anonymous proposition posted to a craigslist page marked ‘Artists who read’. Seth Price has thus created a character he wants to be dominated by, and the performance is punctuated by a quite literal title.
Objects are so often thought to be first symptomatic, and participatory only insofar as they provide an audience with an index of representation. This object, is believed to hold value intrinsic to its being, that is to be felt or excavated by a viewer upon encounter and is possibly first reified, by the often submissive words of a curator or art writer. who regardless of whether they choose to praise or criticize, make it a mission to avoid perversion of that object, or total iconoclastic destruction. Representation of intrinsic value that is to be representative, is a central paradox of commodity fetishism. What I would like to argue, is that intrinsic value, and the expectation of an eventual understanding and democratic distributing of that understanding (even in partiality) may not ever coexist. A gap between object and representation is always inevitable, but, and this is important- we should allow an artwork to be embarrassed by that which is extrinsic to it.