An exhibition of Extractionism.

The visual artistic style of Extractionism, founded by the notorious cat Oscar Teabag-Dooven, is new and brash, influencing the art world much like the invention of art once did. Unlike expressionism, impressionism or indeed any other ism, extractionism isn’t based on a particular school of thought or cultural era. Nor does it stem from radical social upheaval. Instead, it is a simplified form of painting. It is a summarisation of scenes, a posterisation of themes, or a cartooning of world. Therefore, it could equally be called summarism, posterism or cartoonsism. But it’s not. It’s extractionism because it extracts the essence of the subject and plonks it on canvas without the arrogance of ability. Thus, extractionism arises in the absence of talent.

In its purest form, extractionism displays bold lines and basic colours lifted from its subject while intentionally ignoring detail. However, it also ignores meaning. Extractionism's purpose is not to question the human condition or its place within the universe’s endless warping canvas. Instead, it seeks to ask the question, “Isn’t it pretty?” with no interest in an answer. Extractionism has been described, perhaps unfairly, as “art for the stupid,” “art for the desensitised”, and “shit.”

Is extractionism a new movement? Or is it merely shallow art? Is it an excuse for rubbish painting to be dubbed something other than a waste of paint? We asked Sydney-based art critic and curator of the Sinkhole Art Gallery, Buen Rubenstein, for his thoughts.

“I remember it was a Tuesday at about three in the afternoon. I’d sat down at a cafe on Colchester Street and ordered a large strawberry doughnut and a cup of tea with extra soy. While I was waiting, my phone rang. I answered it as this seemed a prudent thing to do. There was no answer, however, so I shrugged and put it back in my pocket. When my cup of tea arrived, my phone rang again. I answered it a second time, but again there was no answer. Returning the phone to my pocket, I waited for my strawberry doughnut to arrive, as it hadn’t been brought with my cup of tea (an oversight the waiter apologised for despite my insistence there was no need). When my doughnut did arrive, my phone rang for a third time. It was only then I realised I must have dialled my phone with my arse.”

Clearly, we should have been more specific about which thoughts we were after. Nevertheless, you can see some examples of Dooven's extractionism here.