I've been reading Mike Perry's Truck: a love story and enjoying it. In recent sections, he's been on a lot of book tours. Yesterday, John, Jacquelyn and I went to a panel on urban exploring at Flux Factory in conjunction with their "New York, New York, New York" show, sort of a riff on the Panorama at Flushing Meadows. It all came together in my dream last night. I had to get up to pee at 12:45 or so and the plane was just landing on the country road. It sure didn't feel like a crash landing.
The plane was really more like a country bingo hall or church recreation room: wide and not too full. I was sitting in the back row (more like the back seat of a bus), next to a small kid (Perry's Amy). We were flying along and went into a down swoop (not scary, more like a gentle amusement park ride). Then I was looking out the window at beautiful pine trees in the Cascades but I remarked to the kid that we were flying kinda low. Then we landed on the combination country lane/boat dock (that's probably a combination of the urban adventurers and Jacquelyn's going to Santa Monica) and coasted over to the edge of a cornfield. Folks were glad to be getting off the airplane for a while, some grabbing their toothbrush (good chance to freshen up, I think that was Dan Eshom). Margaret Webster was in a short skirt and kneeling on the floor (the floor was more like a van, probably the Contemporary Trends (Ithaca furniture store) van that was improbably in front of my NYC building yesterday morning). Then I woke up.
The morning dream was pretty colorful too but I don't remember it. Perhaps it's all the Perry sentence: Sometimes life is so simply good. (p. 163)
07 January 2008
05 January 2008
galleries in LES
The New Museum opened late last year. I hadn't been though I did go to some of the pre-groundbreaking stuff they did a couple years ago. And I watched it growing up. The neighborhood around there has always had some galleries but the New Museum is sparking a lot more art activity. That is of course the New York way: art comes in, rent goes up, shopping pushes art out, art rises elsewhere. After I got here to the office, I had a brief chat with Sueyoung Park about the Bowery neighborhood and how it's changing. Will all of the lighting stores disappear? Would we like it in NYC if that dynamic (and frustrating) clash wasn't ever-present? It's part of the scene, as is bitching about it.
I started my round of galleries using the map from Time out: New York, Nov. 29-Dec. 5, 2007. Participant Inc is supposed to be at 253 East Houston Street but that building was tightly shuttered (by then it was noon so they would have been open, I imagine, if they're there, if they have a show up now). At Chuchifritos on Essex Street, there is a group show. I really enjoyed the Dan Tague piece called "The Osama Wars." He folded a dollar so that the title words were there (bill was enlarged and then printed). From there down to Reena Spaulings which was also closed, as far as I could tell.
Miguel Abreu had a group show too, with some fine pieces. His website has some installation pictures that give a good sense of the show, as well as pictures of individual pieces. My favorite pieces were probably the window piece: NICOLÁS GUAGNINI, Quelques aspects de l’art primitif, 2007, and two covers of the MoMA international exhibition catalog: STEVEN BALDI, Museum of Modern Art, Modern Architecture International Exhibition Catalog (1932), 2007. I especially liked the rocks in the Guagnini piece that looked like the wonderful Vija Celmins rocks (I saw some at P.S. 1 last year. The rocks were a "self-portrait" and placed on a stack of Artforum magazines. The justification for the piece was good too. Alas, the website doesn't seem to have the text of the checklist. http://www.miguelabreugallery.com/
On to a Warhol show at Woodward Gallery on Eldridge Street. The pieces were from the diamond dust series and the installation was good for the pieces, reminding me of the Warhol room at Dia:Beacon. The gallery has been there some months but it was my first visit. From there to Canada on Chrystie Street which has about doubled its exhibition space. The Brian Belott show was pretty nice, with the old main gallery having a light and easy soundtrack. I don't mean that "light and easy" sarcastically, it was really nice. (Art Fag City blog on Belott show)
When I got to Thrust Projects, I was followed up the stairs by a woman who told me that the gallery was closed for installation. She gave me a card for the next show which includes Carrie Moyer. While waiting just inside the door, I looked at a compelling piece with "Fear eats the soul" in German tattooed on a man's arm. Fassbinder reference? Katrina Daschner was the artist; I'm really sorry I missed it ... wasting my time up in West Chelsea? Probably not; nobody can keep up with the hundreds of galleries in NYC even if it's a full-time job.
Finally the New Museum itself. The spaces are really great. My membership card allowed me to bypass the line at the front counter (it wasn't a horribly long line, just a couple dozen people or so). Elevator up to the top floor of galleries. I was meandering around the galleries, down the skinny stairs from 4 to 3, meander. I stopped to read one of the signs near the elevator which included a list of artists. Ah, Tom Burr, and wouldn't you know it? He did the two pieces on that floor that had especially caught my eye. It's partly the narrative but also the craftsmanship, the style of his work. The Burr show with Walter Pfeiffer at the Swiss Institute is really wonderful too. I did enjoy the Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries videos in the lobby gallery; the sound was very nice as were the visuals. Overall, the building was more compelling than the art though the building, luckily, doesn't scream "I'm beautiful" or some such.
melancholia
Since reading Lincoln's melancholy by Joshua Wolf Shenk this summer, my brother and I have been discussing melancholia and its role in contemplation and thought. Melancholy (melanchol*) and utopia are both words that jump out of writings and art work titles for me. And fill my mental commonplace book. It happened again last week when I was reading a backlogged issue of The New York times (Dec. 19). The article was about rappers in Marseille (yes, the one in France). One of them -- Soprano (M'Roumbaba Saïd) -- has a track called "Melancholic anonymous" about which he said "I can't help it, expressing my feelings, my melancholy in my lyrics. I can laugh at my sadness. It helps."
02 January 2008
greenery will triumph
Maybe my other new year's resolution will be to put something here more often. In the meantime a couple paragraphs from the "March" chapter of Truck by Michael Perry of Population: 485 fame:
The snow will fall again before the frost is out, but we are gaining momentum for that time of year when everything reappears. The ugly stuff first, as it happens: neglected lawnmowers, weed-wrapped tires, waterlogged copies of the Early Bird Shopper. But most days there is a flavor to the air that suggests greenery will triumph.
Last thing before I turn off the lights and head for bed, I inspect the sprouting tray. Each cell cradles a cube of peat, and at the center of each cube is a seed, quietly pursuing the sun. Thomas Moore said [in Lalla Rookh] tears are a luxury only to the happy. When I am forced to cast my eyes beyond my own navel, I realize that a dip in sweet melancholy is every bit as indulgent as a bubble bath. Be joyful, says Wendell Berry, though you have considered all the facts.
The snow will fall again before the frost is out, but we are gaining momentum for that time of year when everything reappears. The ugly stuff first, as it happens: neglected lawnmowers, weed-wrapped tires, waterlogged copies of the Early Bird Shopper. But most days there is a flavor to the air that suggests greenery will triumph.
Last thing before I turn off the lights and head for bed, I inspect the sprouting tray. Each cell cradles a cube of peat, and at the center of each cube is a seed, quietly pursuing the sun. Thomas Moore said [in Lalla Rookh] tears are a luxury only to the happy. When I am forced to cast my eyes beyond my own navel, I realize that a dip in sweet melancholy is every bit as indulgent as a bubble bath. Be joyful, says Wendell Berry, though you have considered all the facts.
08 December 2007
Glenn Ligon on books
In the December "best of 2007" issue of Artforum, Glenn Ligon is one of those who picks books. While he does pick Witness to her art, edited by Rhea Anastas with Michael Brenson, he starts his column with a paragraph on making art:
"In a monograph on Felix Gonzalez-Torres published by A.R.T. Press in 1994, there is an interview between Gonzalez-Torres and the artist Tim Rollins. I reread it every year or so to remind myself that artists don't only talk about the market, their fame, or their latest commercial sponsors. Some of them even talk about why they make art. Following a tradition started by Art Resources Transfer founder Bill Bartman with the book Between artists: twelve contemporary American artists interview twelve contemporary American artists (1996), A.R.T. Press editor and artist Alejandro Cesarco has begun publishing a series of must-have books called Between Artists. Each volume is a record of two artists talking to each other, and the pairings have been inspired: Liam Gillick and Lawrence Weiner, Paul Chan and Martha Rosler, Silvia Kolbowski and Walid Raad. Forthcoming volumes feature conversations between Andrea Bowers and Catherine Opie, Maria Eichhorn and John Miller, and James Benning and Julie Ault. In the conversation between Amy Sillman and Gregg Bordowitz (published this year), there is an amazing discussion of ambivalence; at one point, Bordowitz says, 'I'm interested in art that provokes an objectless yearning. There's a feeling of want in the work but I can't fully identify what's wanted by the work .... I'm very much interested in queer things. Queer things don't yield easily to comprehension. They refuse to recognize, or be recognized. They work from, or occupy, a place of shame or embarrassment. Those are the kind of artworks that attract me, regardless of their medium.' In that brief passage, Bordowitz perfectly sums up what makes me keep going back to a Gonzalez-Torres sculpture or a Willem de Kooning 'Woman' painting I have seen dozens of times: a feeling of want that travels between viewer and artwork and is both real and resitstant ot quantification. That feeling is also what makes me make art." -- Artforum, v. 46, no. 4 (Dec. 2007), p. 111
"In a monograph on Felix Gonzalez-Torres published by A.R.T. Press in 1994, there is an interview between Gonzalez-Torres and the artist Tim Rollins. I reread it every year or so to remind myself that artists don't only talk about the market, their fame, or their latest commercial sponsors. Some of them even talk about why they make art. Following a tradition started by Art Resources Transfer founder Bill Bartman with the book Between artists: twelve contemporary American artists interview twelve contemporary American artists (1996), A.R.T. Press editor and artist Alejandro Cesarco has begun publishing a series of must-have books called Between Artists. Each volume is a record of two artists talking to each other, and the pairings have been inspired: Liam Gillick and Lawrence Weiner, Paul Chan and Martha Rosler, Silvia Kolbowski and Walid Raad. Forthcoming volumes feature conversations between Andrea Bowers and Catherine Opie, Maria Eichhorn and John Miller, and James Benning and Julie Ault. In the conversation between Amy Sillman and Gregg Bordowitz (published this year), there is an amazing discussion of ambivalence; at one point, Bordowitz says, 'I'm interested in art that provokes an objectless yearning. There's a feeling of want in the work but I can't fully identify what's wanted by the work .... I'm very much interested in queer things. Queer things don't yield easily to comprehension. They refuse to recognize, or be recognized. They work from, or occupy, a place of shame or embarrassment. Those are the kind of artworks that attract me, regardless of their medium.' In that brief passage, Bordowitz perfectly sums up what makes me keep going back to a Gonzalez-Torres sculpture or a Willem de Kooning 'Woman' painting I have seen dozens of times: a feeling of want that travels between viewer and artwork and is both real and resitstant ot quantification. That feeling is also what makes me make art." -- Artforum, v. 46, no. 4 (Dec. 2007), p. 111
06 December 2007
good and beautiful
When I first noticed the headline that Brad Pitt was commissioning house designs for New Orleans, I was impressed and figured it was similar to what Habitat for Humanity does. Habitat has been criticized by some in the architecture and preservation communities for being unimaginative or insensitive. Brad Pitt's project is especially wonderful because he has commissioned thoughtful architects to do something imaginative, something particularly relevant to New Orleans. In the small pictures in The New York Times, the results look pretty interesting. They will certainly cost more than Habitat's plain Jane houses but they may have more community value. I really don't have anything against Habitat (even send them money regularly) and think that simple houses can serve well. In Jane Jacobs disciple speak, we are thankful for the diversity on the street. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/03/arts/design/03pitt.html (or search "brad pitt designs" at nytimes.com)
27 November 2007
salt water and moonlight
Sometimes NACO work is just so rewarding. This evening, I had a Bill Wilson without a NAR so I wrote him a note and asked for birthdate. After I sent the note, I was still working on the catalog record and noticed that his essay in the form of email on page 47 had a picturesque version of his birth information. He was conceived in Ocean City, Md. in August 1931. His mother was seeing the ocean for the first time and his parents made love on the beach. His father told him later that salt water and moonlight always had that effect. Wilson goes on to say he was born on Billie Holiday's birthday, also William Wordsworth's, in the time of Herbert Hoover. The book, by the by, is Wenk/Wilson: replyreply allforwarddeletepreviousnextclose (end construction 1) which records a project by Daniel Wenk to send a postcard of the Eiffel Tower every day to Bill Wilson, from November 18, 1999 to July 26, 2000.
25 November 2007
wind power & darjeeling
As I listened to WQXR a while ago, the announcer described the program as energy-conscious because he'd just played a work for wind instruments by Gounod. I find it energizing! Lynn Harrell on the cello.
On Friday night, I went to see "The Darjeeling Limited" which is set in India and involves a journey by three brothers. Only the older brother knows it's a journey to Mom who abandoned them for a nunnery in the Himalayas. The movie is visually rich, partly because the landscape is inherently exotic (to my western eyes) but also because the director, cinematographer, and editor have done some fine work. The story is quirky and enigmatic, wordy. The mother is played by Anjelica Huston and she carries around, unexplained, a book with a portrait of Thomas Jefferson. I guess everyone should carry around a book on Jefferson. The ending is the beginning, just like life and death and life. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0838221/
And then in today's New York Times was the article entitled "Rumbling Across India Toward a New Life in the City" about folks from "India's bleak heartland" emigrating for work to Mumbai on the Pushpak Express. Life and new life and yet again.
On Friday night, I went to see "The Darjeeling Limited" which is set in India and involves a journey by three brothers. Only the older brother knows it's a journey to Mom who abandoned them for a nunnery in the Himalayas. The movie is visually rich, partly because the landscape is inherently exotic (to my western eyes) but also because the director, cinematographer, and editor have done some fine work. The story is quirky and enigmatic, wordy. The mother is played by Anjelica Huston and she carries around, unexplained, a book with a portrait of Thomas Jefferson. I guess everyone should carry around a book on Jefferson. The ending is the beginning, just like life and death and life. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0838221/
And then in today's New York Times was the article entitled "Rumbling Across India Toward a New Life in the City" about folks from "India's bleak heartland" emigrating for work to Mumbai on the Pushpak Express. Life and new life and yet again.
20 November 2007
classified and labeled but not computerized
"Collections: I collect books, and not only that, I do something unbelievably geeky with them, which is, I put little labels on the spines with Library of Congress numbers, and keep all the books in Library of Congress order. Oddly, I have never computerized the collection." -- from an interview with Jimmy Wales, the founder of Wikipedia, in The New York Times Magazine, Nov. 18, 2007, p. 31. One of the illustrations for the interview is a shelf of books. The legible titles are, from left to right: Ayn Rand ...; CQB (close quarter battle); Ayn Rand, Anthem; Atlas shrugged; Who is Ayn Rand?; The tactical shotgun; The pregnancy book for today's woman; No fear ... King Lear [???]; The university wine course; The zone; Kasser's wine-food index. I can't read the spine labels but that doesn't seem like LCC order to me.
28 October 2007
music, modern, jazz
Joshua Bell played Barber's Violin Concerto with the Orchestra of St Luke's this afternoon at Carnegie Hall. It was sublime. I am quite familiar with the concerto. It was preceded on the program by "In memory" by Joan Tower, started not long before 9/11 in memory of a friend who had died. As they were playing "In memory," a man and a young girl exited silently and respectfully. Their exit put me in mind of my mother and her love of music. We did have music in our lives as I was growing up but it was largely sacred or rock. I'm not sure how I became mostly a listener of classical music. All over the classical board. Certainly, Alex Wisniewski, Bill Connor, and Bob Scrimale increased my knowledge and appreciation of classical music, along with others. At the moment, Dawn Upshaw's "Voices of light" is in the CD player on my computer.
Before I went to Carnegie Hall, I spent a half hour or so at MoMA. The Martin Puryear works were being installed in the high hall at the center of the museum and, wow, they looked great. It had only been a few hours since I'd been with the Kelleys (Sherry and Woody) at the Bar Room of the Modern (restaurant), for supper last night. The food was very good and the Modern martini with cilantro-infused gin (strong yet subtle) was special. We talked about all sorts of things, including the trip Sherry'd gone on to the Grand Canyon with her daughter Jennifer and her partner Steph. Jennifer, Sherry, Bob and I went, very memorably, to an amusement park in the late 1980s. Repeated rides on the roller coaster, Flip-A-Chick.
On Saturday afternoon, I went to see "Control" even though I was feeling very out of control. The movie is about Ian Curtis of Joy Division who committed suicide in the midst of great torment trying to be both a good husband and father and rock musician and lover of the rock journalist. It sounds trite or at least stereotypical, but the story is told grippingly, acted amazingly. One of the blurbs in the ad is a quote along the lines of "you don't see the movie, you live it." It really is worth seeing. The film is based on a book by Deborah Curtis, Ian's widow.
My out-of-control feelings were brought on largely by a visit from my nemesis on Saturday morning. He says he is due a settlement for the injured tendon. I believe the story, I don't. And I'm caught in the dilemma of near bankruptcy and his asking me to "watch" part of his money. Is it money laundering? What if I'm only watching part of it? Can morality be relative?
Being Gemini, it's always up and down. And this weekend has been more up/down than sometimes. Friday night had started musically too. I have season tickets to the "Composer Portraits" series at Miller Theatre at Columbia. Friday was David Sanford. I don't think of myself as much of a jazz buff but this was an incredible concert. A cello solo with Matt Haimovitz and he also played in the "Scherzo grosso." I particularly liked "Link chapel" with the building instrumentation.
Before I went to Carnegie Hall, I spent a half hour or so at MoMA. The Martin Puryear works were being installed in the high hall at the center of the museum and, wow, they looked great. It had only been a few hours since I'd been with the Kelleys (Sherry and Woody) at the Bar Room of the Modern (restaurant), for supper last night. The food was very good and the Modern martini with cilantro-infused gin (strong yet subtle) was special. We talked about all sorts of things, including the trip Sherry'd gone on to the Grand Canyon with her daughter Jennifer and her partner Steph. Jennifer, Sherry, Bob and I went, very memorably, to an amusement park in the late 1980s. Repeated rides on the roller coaster, Flip-A-Chick.
On Saturday afternoon, I went to see "Control" even though I was feeling very out of control. The movie is about Ian Curtis of Joy Division who committed suicide in the midst of great torment trying to be both a good husband and father and rock musician and lover of the rock journalist. It sounds trite or at least stereotypical, but the story is told grippingly, acted amazingly. One of the blurbs in the ad is a quote along the lines of "you don't see the movie, you live it." It really is worth seeing. The film is based on a book by Deborah Curtis, Ian's widow.
My out-of-control feelings were brought on largely by a visit from my nemesis on Saturday morning. He says he is due a settlement for the injured tendon. I believe the story, I don't. And I'm caught in the dilemma of near bankruptcy and his asking me to "watch" part of his money. Is it money laundering? What if I'm only watching part of it? Can morality be relative?
Being Gemini, it's always up and down. And this weekend has been more up/down than sometimes. Friday night had started musically too. I have season tickets to the "Composer Portraits" series at Miller Theatre at Columbia. Friday was David Sanford. I don't think of myself as much of a jazz buff but this was an incredible concert. A cello solo with Matt Haimovitz and he also played in the "Scherzo grosso." I particularly liked "Link chapel" with the building instrumentation.
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