Phallic object

Although many members of Gopsi have been, in the past, staunch critics of conceptual and minimalist art, a worrying event came to pass.

One day a big pink object was placed in the art corridor. Nothing unusual about that, but little did the people who placed it there realise the dramatic effect of their actions. After several assassination attempts on the object, it was placed on a stand in the middle of the art corridor, and Gopsi began to take an interest. We discovered that it was called "Corrosion", was created by a genius called "Kevin M Snoad", and most importantly of all: resembled the shape of an erect penis (or at least that would be what you would have thought if you were either a) blind, or b) had an amazingly deformed penis). We regarded and worshipped this piece of modern art every time we passed it, until one day it mysteriously disappeared. However, the next day it appeared next to the skips, ready to be taken away with the rubbish the next day, if it wasn't for the Gopseans taking it to a place where it could rest in peace for ever more, and be observed by Gopsi on a regular basis.

In our observations of this said object, we have noticed that it is no ordinary piece of modern art, and have found deep meaning in it. No, don't laugh, it's true! Allow me to explain. What do you think of when you think of corrosion? The most obvious link is old, rusty machinery. Something which served a purpose. In order for something to be corroded, it must once have been a useful and perfect object. So, what purpose does a four-foot octahedral thingy have? Why was it built? Questions leap at me like fiends from the dark. Was it a messenger from another planet, like the black monoliths in 2001? Was it an idol for an ancient civilisation? Was it paperweight for a race of prehistoric reptiles? Why do fools fall in love? Ike Man Dinos? Mankind Sove? K. Mad Venison?

An infamous post-1900 art critic (poncey wanker) writes:

Corrosion is, fundamentally, about man, woman, and the large diamond-shaped objects that come between them. It radically redefines accepted notions of gender, space and sex; setting them in a post-modernist gender-performist context by deconstructing their inner essence, in so doing wittily pastiching the text-metatext relationship dialetic; or, to be more precise, quasi-dialect1. Some items to note: the way the peaking pinnacle of ordure symbolises Humanity and the way we try to carve out our niche in the collective zeitgeist-fed collective sur-consciousnesse- we try, but we can, yet, only, sadly, fail to complete the sentence fall to the floor of Marxist reasoning.

For surely, in our information-disseminator-fed-sub-culture-quasipornographic-neoFreudian-NetworkSoutheast rhythm thang, the brown paint somehow symbolises a child's simple attitude towards the increasing complexity of the neo-quasi-cacky-Mother Goddess of ennui and Meta-textual-Scepticism. It is not red, or blue. Neither is it green. The day follows night. Life follows death. Huge salary cheques follow the publication of this mindless twaddle.

1. See Sigmund Freud, "The Interpretation of large penis-shaped objects", pp.2345-9876554