Disclaimer: This theory is posited by Neill's own lawyer, and is probably false. That said! The New York Post has the attorney's intricate legal reasoning:

Hillgardner argued that case law protects mere nude physical activity — like calisthenics and ball-playing — from lewdness charges.

So because Neill was kind of writhing around in a "I look like I'm on so much PCP but actually I'm an artistic nudie model" way, it was protected! Also the lawyer says that the only things ladies cannot legally do topless are sunbathing and "handing out promotional material," so, ladies? Everybody's into art again.
[Pic via]

In this manner, the listicle is not a depressing instance of pandering but a nourishing expression of a natural and elemental part of human culture. Or at least that's what you can put on your Maggies entry. Here's how Eco (pictured) put it in Der Spiegel:

The list is the origin of culture... What does culture want? To make infinity comprehensible. It also wants to create order — not always, but often. And how, as a human being, does one face infinity? How does one attempt to grasp the incomprehensible? Through lists, through catalogs, through collections in museums and through encyclopedias and dictionaries.

Making "infinity comprehensible" means, basically, facing up to our own mortality:

We have a limit, a very discouraging, humiliating limit: death. That's why we like all the things that we assume have no limits and, therefore, no end. It's a way of escaping thoughts about death. We like lists because we don't want to die.

This is why lists have been popular from "primitive cultures" to the Middle Ages to the Renaissance, Baroque and postmodern periods.

So, to summarize:

• Lists connect us with our ancestors.
  
• Lists connect us with culture.
  
• Lists make infinity comprehensible.
  
• Lists help us ignore death.
  
• Buy cranberries.
  
• Order turkey.
  
• Take out the garbage.

Sorry, got immortaldistracted there for a second.

Lacey's description, from Ebay:

The sixth painting in the Gawker series, which is an elaboration on the Rachel Maddow riding a be-saddled Keith Olbermann into battle with a lance and pancake shield against a comparably-though-perhaps-differently-armored Limbaugh riding Hannity suggestion. The suggestion was made before the full assention of Beck and includes a completely gratituous full bodied although one-legged Sarah Palin with pancakes on her head. Obama and Penelope the Unicorn insert themselves into the center of the fray but are powerless to stop the slaughter.

Provocative. Bid on this artwork that you, the Gawker commentariat, spawned, at Ebay.

[Previous paintings in the series here]

Someone called me up tonight and she sounded panicked. "I was in a bodega and heard Julia Allison's voice over the radio. She's advertising for some computers, does she even matter anymore?" I wasn't sure and I'm still not sure how to answer that question other than to say "it's for Sony, she's taking over the airwaves, now, wow."

And now, art.

I am not an art critic. I know nothing about performance art or how to "deal" with it.

I also know nothing about the DJ Mayonnaise Hands person that emailed this to us is (he has something to do with the video) or why he exists or what he has to do with Julia "I Potentially Had Sex With Your Little Brother, Dave Eggers" Allison. In fact, I'm determined to know as little about this video as possible in order to preserve the incredible context in which I got to view it, which was without any. All I know is how it made me feel. I just, I don't know, I mean, okay:

Here's Julia Allison, standing outside a bunch of galleries in Chelsea. She's asking people what it takes to be an art critic and who should be an art critic.

I have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore.

Zahm, who by the way appears to wear prescription sunglasses indoors, will be occupying the Half Gallery on Forsyth Street from the 1st into next year. There are no details on the gallery's website except this picture, which promises more of the same moody posturing/shots of genitals to be found on his website [NSFW, although arty NSFW like Francois Truffaut might whack off to].

The WSJ reports:

The evening's top price went to Alberto Giacometti's 1950 bronze of a toppling man, "L'Homme Qui Chavire," which an Eastern European collector bidding over the telephone got for $19.3 million, well over its $12 million high estimate.

Macroeconomic win! Bring back Gourmet!

Before you could even dust yourself off from the last bankruptcy, the wondrous free market is roaring ahead with a plan for your next one: "Concerns are mounting that efforts by governments and central banks to stoke a recovery will create a nasty side effect: asset bubbles in real-estate, stock and currency markets, especially in Asia."

Asia! Stop that, will you!

They are so totally into anything that makes bubbles, over there. Here in the USA, we're very particular about that sort of thing. Stocks and real estate? Boring as Xanax and apple sauce! Here, we're madly rushing to bet on the rebound of the flailing coin-operated laundry market, and investing in golden pennies made by artists (which is extra hard since there's only one), and oooo, impressionist art is so tantalizingly affordable right now!

It can only go up!

And America can never have too many luxury boutique hotels. Never!

So just keep investing, and hang in there. The funnest part of a bubble is when it pops.
[Pic: Flickr]

CityFile reports that Newhouse paid $20 million for this fancy spindly-looking sculpture, "L'Homme Qui Chavire" by Alberto Giacometti, and now he's selling it at Sotheby's, where it's estimated to go for about half that. This, after he tried and failed to sell it at $20 million and $16 million.

Regular Americans know this move as "Desperately taking shit to the pawn shop, to pay the bills."

Conde Nast! Glamor!
[Cityfile]

The Wall Street Journal, bless its nilla heart, breaks this story and undermines it in the course of two paragraphs:

"Do you think that hip-hop would be an appropriate area for NEA to fund?" I inquired.

"Absolutely. And mural painting and graffiti are art. There are popular aspects of all the arts that I think shouldn't be ignored."

Funding hip-hop-the best of which is rhythmically poetic, but commonly punctuated by profanity, violence and/or misogynistic sexuality-could put the previously embattled agency back in the crosshairs of the decency police.

Sure, rappers have rhythm. Many can dance! But, you know...bitches and hoes. Guns and malt liquor. Pussy and weed. Glocks and rocks. The WSJ thinks you know what it means. The things those people talk about. [Pic: Rob Gale]

There are four separate 3'x4' panels that represent Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens and the Bronx. When they're combined, you've got one gorgeous piece of wall art.

I wouldn't try and take it on a road trip though. [Dude Craft via Neatorama]

[Pic: Stephen Wiltshire. There's much more there]

Park's work explores the "increasing banalization of plastic surgery." Judging from her YouTube, it's only a matter of time before freaky body LEDs end up in Halloween costumes, horror movie wardrobes and, who knows, maybe in some sort of cosmetic body implant. People are talking these up as a Halloween costume, but Park's personal website is down, so you may be out of luck — this year.

The NYT says the city's buffed about half the buildings surrounding the High Line so far, so that Ed Norton—who I blame for everything bad that's High Line-related—will not have to have his Prada shades sullied by the vision of art that doesn't cost millions upon millions of dollars. Pretty dramatic set of before and after pics here; whoa, it looks so much blander now. Awesome.

Even more annoying than the rich High Line people here are, of course, the NYT.com commenters. Who are perhaps the same people!

Graffiti is trash. period.
Always glad to see vandalism repaired.
Graffiti is not ART, and it never was. There's no historical meaning to it, except that some uneducated loser wasted paint and time to deface an already attractive wall or whatever.
Graffiti is not art, and never will be.

Etc. Shut up, dumb mean people. Anyone echoing these sentiments (without an incredibly creative argument) in our comments, which are supposed to not suck, will be banned. Anyone posting pics of where they tagged the High Line wins a free kiss.

[Would have had this post up earlier except stupid Flickr was down. Pics: Niznoz, Zantony.]

It's old hat that Fairey's been embattled in a court case over fair use, the idea that something like an image can be used in the context of news if it doesn't sap value from the source's original work. That source, in this case, being the wire news behemoth Associated Press, who are more or less trying to find away to put a price on information so blogs and the like can't take "their" news and do stuff with it like talk about it. But for the time being, Fairey's the guy the AP's suing the pants off of because he's a high profile figure who created a high profile piece of art from their high profile photgraph. And they want some of that young, idealistic money shelled out to Fairey, who's made a grip from his posters. He's probably lost quite a bit fighting this.

In a recent court deposition, Fairey identified one photo as the one he used as the inspiration for his poster, while the AP identified theirs-taken by wire photographer Mannie Garcia-as the one he used.

Well, he "realized" early on that it was Garcia's photo that he had, in fact, used, and then deleted a bunch of shit on his computer to wipe clean evidence that he knew any better. Whoops. Time to confess!

In an attempt to conceal my mistake I submitted false images and deleted other images. I sincerely apologize for my lapse in judgment and I take full responsibility for my actions which were mine alone. I am taking every step to correct the information and I regret I did not come forward sooner. I am very sorry to have hurt and disappointed colleagues, friends, and family who have supported me in this difficult case and trying time in my life. I am also sorry because my actions may distract from what should be the real focus of my case – the right to fair use so that all artists can create freely. Regardless of which of the two images was used, the fair use issue should be the same.

Whoops. You can't forget: Fairey's also lawsuit happy to artists who ape or parody his stuff, so it's hard to feel too bad for Fairey, even if he is trying to cover his legal costs and make a complex argument by being an asshole to someone els just like him. Birds of a feather. Also, Fairey lied to Bucky Turco at ANIMAL New York in an email, but Bucky doesn't get his own apology from Fairey. Short end of the stick, these bloggers get. That's HOPE for you.

This is the sixth painting idea suggested by you, the bored Gawker readership, that pancake painter-to-the-stars Dan Lacey has executed, for the benefit of mankind. Previous works: Rush the Hutt, The Crucifixion of Octomom, S&M Goat Wedding, Mickey Rourke Chihuahua Pee, and Hoda and Kathie Lee Flapjack Wrestling.

Don't miss your chance to purchase this one-of-a-kind work of Tinsley Mortimer art. Bid for it on Ebay now.