Artsy. What does that even mean, “artsy?” It’s pretty artsy. He’s all artsy. Don’t be so artsy-fartsy.
I imagine it’s artsy to not like being categorized as artsy, kind of like hipsters who hate hipsters or scenesters who hate the scene.
The term seems to imply a kind of shallowness to your artistic existence. The artsy crowd paint art that they sell to motels, but the artists paint art that they wallow in.
This is usually the point where I would bring in the whole, “The Oxford English Dictionary defines artsy as…”, but I have no notion of how the OED defines the word. Having said that, I did Google “artsy.” After all, the act of Googling does seem vague enough to suit the term.
On the image search, a dim-looking smudge of what might have been magnified shower-drain hair came up. Hence my original question — because what could an image like that possibly be other than artsy?
I went to see the award-winning film “The Artist” last week. (If a film with that title isn’t artsy, then I don’t know what is.)
Not only was the movie filmed in black and white, it’s also silent. So it’s a form of art that artistically tells the story of its own art, and the art form’s evolution. And, of course, the artist that must find his place in that art. That’s, like, meta-artsy.
I often wonder if I live in an artsy community. There are definitely artsy students —they hang out around Hanes and Greenlaw, and they smoke at the flagpole.
But that doesn’t mean we’re really an artsy campus, since all those artsy types migrate here from Carrboro, the artsy armpit of Chapel Hill. (Don’t get me wrong, Carrboro is definitely cool. But it could use a little deodorant.)
