Her heavy scent of rose soap and boiled cabbage can easily clog our youthful brains, but don’t let ole grams fool you: she’s a hardcore hipster artist. Ask yourself: are you parents helping your Grandma pay her rent? Perhaps she is living on low-income support from the Government? She doesn't work and plays bingo every Thursday night and opts to ride an electric scooter because she doesn't have a license? Oversized black sunglasses; sometimes shop-lifting small items, later finding herself passed out in front of Citizen Kane after drinking a bottle of cheap rose Zinfandel – and she’s not actually making any art besides the odd acrylic paintings of cats down at the community center.
It's sad but my own grandmother walked down the devil's path to artist hipsterdom in vintage shoes. There is hope for the rest of us though: with a few simple, easy-to-follow steps, you can prevent the transition happening to you before it starts.
How Not to Be A Hipster Artist In 4 Steps
Step 1. Do not paint, draw, sketch, sculpt, photograph the following things: Anything.
Step 2. Have no sense of personal style, individualism or knowledge of anything you put on your body. Dress in the dark and do not borrow anything from your grandfather's wardrobe, which is a gateway to Hipster Narnia. Instead, raid your parents wardrobe. Chances are it’s not in style yet: sweat pants with holes, polyester dresses with shoulder pads, stained fruit-of- the loom T-shirts and square-toed dress shoes. You should step into the world looking like a potato farmer from Idaho on vacation.
Step 3. Do not stop eating animals. If anything, eat more and do not let the following into your house: raw foodists, fruitarians, vegans, vegetarians and keep a watchful eye out for pescatarians – like bi-sexuals, they fly under the radar.
Step 4. Do not accept money your parents give you, they are enablers; get evicted and live on the street. Instead of riding a bike, burn tires – global warming is a myth. Resist the temptation of wearing plaid, reserved for lumberjacks and lesbians, or hoodies (Unless of course you're a drug dealer or over 60 and Jewish).
Behind the quick laughs, there is a deeper topic at stake: are our Grandmothers actually hipster artists? Not really. But with the standards and the ‘classifications’ set in place by society, they technically are. We need to remember that art is the most inclusive medium on earth; it joins us as human beings when we constantly work at tearing ourselves apart. Segregation (whether self or social) of people doesn’t have a good track record.
Before hipster turns into the ‘h’ word, lets remember: people can be self-indulgent douche bags no matter what they paint, who they socialize with, where they drink, what they listen to, what they eat, ride, do, act, think, be. The only thing we should be judging is their art. With this, I recently confronted my Grandmother in her large framed glasses, vintage dress from the 40s and fake, green alligator-skin shoes:
“Nana, I know you're a hipster artist – but it’s ok.”
“No, no, my hips aren’t hurting! Now can you find me dancing with the stars.”
Nicely played grandma. Nicely played.
Article by Tristan Boisvert
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