We take our seats and wait for the flames to die down.
I say, “Good call Sam, this stuff is really interesting.”
Kate says, “This stuff is crap. You know what kind of art I appreciate? A good dirt bike track, with nicely sculpted bank turns and hits with nice landings following. Guys who can make that shit real, and do it well, and make it look good, now that’s art.”
Sam says, “That’s not art, that’s practical creation, that’s utilitarian form, it’s not there to look good or do anything artistic, it’s just there so your bikes have a place to ride around.”
“No, bullshit, I call bullshit, because I don’t need to take my bike on a good trail to get the effect. If a track is made really well I can spend days and days just sitting in a lawn chair beside it with beer and maybe some smoke and just stare at it, imagining what it would be like to bike around. That’s fucking art, more art than this shit.”
“Dirt bike track? Pollock wouldn’t think that’s art.”
“Who gives a fuck what fish think?”