Visitors in Mexico!

Friends have come to visit, and having the pleasure of showing Merida to them makes me realize what a special place it is. Mexicans have a saying, "Nothing ever happens in Merida," and it is meant in the best possible way. The city is a peaceful haven even within the safe, well functioning Yucatan peninsula. The turmoil and issues in the other parts of Mexico don't seem to reach here.
Today we are going to walk around the city center and look at the cathedral, the beautiful candy colored facades that hide dark rooms and spacious courtyards, and the bustling plazas with their vendors, pigeons, and children.


Maybe later we will stop at the market for a bite to eat, or at least some churros (my favorite) before dinner.

Magdalena Murua: Can you spot Archie?

Magdalena Murua, Constellation

I can't. The serpentine pattern created here seems inextricably entangled, and the various colors are muted by the white background and the small size of the circles. Done with comic book paper punched into tiny holes, the artist creates compositions with thousands of tiny circles. Murua had a few works up at Pulse art fair in the same vein. At times the comic book source material is more prominent, but here it is subsumed in the form, and I quite like the overall effect.

Warhol's Urinal and Tales of Other Piss Pots

A great article at the Economist follows the fortunes of Duchamp's urinals from the first (which seems to have been misplaced) to the editions that came out in later years.

Editions of Duchamp's urinals are multiple and hard to track--meaning you could buy a fake Fountain. Unlike Andy, who traded a few paintings for an authentic urinal, now you be losing a few million over something that may or may not count. As the article ends by speculating, wouldn't Marcel Duchamp rather enjoy today's situation:

One wonders whether the Dada master, who challenged the notion of the authentic artwork, might not be amused by the way these questionable “Fountains” muddy the waters of his current market. “My production,” he once said, “has no right to be speculated upon.”

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Automatic Writing by William Kentridge

I'm still on a Kentridge kick--there's a whole host of clips of his work on YouTube, in case you are similarly interested. Unlike many paintings, or god forbid sculpture, a person can appreciate this work without visiting a museum. If you go through a a sequential play of his works on YouTube, like I did recently, it's like having a museum in your living room.

Happy Saturday!

William Kentridge: Five Themes at MoMA

You will have heard, or will read upon entering, that William Kentridge: Five Themes shows the South African artist dealing with themes of apartheid prominently in his work. This bland statement hardly explains or does justice to the artist's poetic and humane explorations of aparthied in South Africa, nor does it encompass his whole oervre. The sobering themes in his work are mediated through dreamy moments that are compelling without being overwhelming.

The beginning two themes show the explorations of apartheid that the artist is renowned for, as well as the dexterity with which he turns the most basic video techniques into a moving storyline. The first two videos show the use of silhouettes traveling across a landscape, immediately recalling Kara Walker's work, with its similar content based upon slavery in the US, to mind. Kentridge's work is not angry or jarring, but requited resigned and saddened by history, as his figures plod on.

"I believe that in the indeterminacy of drawing--the contingent way that images arrive in the work--lies some kind of model of how we live our lives. The activity of drawing is a way of trying to understand who we are and how we operate in the world."

Video, with its demands for narrative, sound, and movement, is complex and the artist handles it with an apparent simplicity and hand-made feel that if touching. The artist works in black charcoal on white paper, smudging his way from one drawing to the next to create an illusion of movement. This time consuming process constantly shows a trace of what was, which becomes emotionally affecting and markedly individual. Sparse color and apt music lends a poignancy to the troubled episodes of the protagonists. Rather than slick production techniques, the humble use of video technology lends authenticity and personalization to the images.



Kentridge is like a lyric short story writer, with a Surrealist touch and Absurdist undertone. The video series that follows the characters of Soho Eckstein, Mrs. Eckstien, and Felix Teitlebaum through South African life in the last years of apartheid put a human face on a larger suffering. Symbolic details of fish and telephones gain meaning as you proceed through the projection rooms. The artist refuse to plan his storylines, relying on the spontaneity of the process to see him through, and that saves him from being pedantic or overly pointed. Instead, there is a flow of ideas that seem like a dream of consciousness, a consciousness of guilt and overwhelming pain and struggle. The lonely, melancholy atmosphere is utterly absorbing as the charcoal marks on the page flow and burst in emotional turmoil.

The artist at his best in his animations, but less so in the drawings he makes them from. The drawings on the whole are unmoving, and less skilled than his work in action. Glancing at them on your way into the darkened theatres is enough. Then take a seat and get comfortable, for this work is not meant to be rushed.


The middle room, the third theme is the studio, shows a series of seven ongoing film fragments on all sides. Take a seat on the bench and be prepared to swivel your head for a good look. These short videos feature Kentridge himself in the starring role as artist hero and conjurer. At their best they are touching studies of the creative process, and at their worst, convey an image of Kentridge as a magician performing cheap tricks like playing the film backwards.

"Walking, thinking, stalking the image, Many of the hours spent in the studio are hours of walking, pacing back and forth across the space gathering the energy, the clarity to make the first mark...It is as if before the work can begin (the visible, finished work of the drawing, film, or sculpture) a different, invisible work must be done."

The final two sections are dedicated to theatrical performances he has designed. The first is the Black Box that Kentridge derived from the stage set he did for a production of Mozart's opera The Magic Flute. If the preceding room gave the impression of the artist's wizardry, then this confirms it. In a darkened room on the hour, a miniature stage on a box with moving doors and objects acting in tandem with projected light and cutouts, the tale of magic and dominance is clearly unfolding under a master's hand. It is engrossing, even if the mechanics never quite fade into the suspension of disbelief. The last room is designated to his work designing The Nose for the Metropolitan Opera, and here, much as with Kentridge's drawings, one feels the remains are just that: remainders of what might indeed be a spectacular visual feast in action. I wish I had the chance to see it.

On view at MoMA through May 17. If you cannot visit the museum, YouTube has an excellent selection of the artist's films and there are two interview with the artist here and here. Kentridge was also a focus of Art:21's Season Five Episode Compassion.

Extra! Extra! Stolen Klee Returned

Portrait in the Garden, Paul Klee, 1930

U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement returned a stolen Klee painting to Marlborough Gallery in Manhattan after 21 years. The painting, valued at $100,000, will now go to the insurer of the gallery.

In response to the news, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston is reported to have said, "It's not fair! They aren't even offering a reward!" The Gardner Museum retired early to bed with a case of false hope.

Falling In Love with Mexico

Or more specifically, the Yucatan, which thinks of itself as rather different from the rest of the country. People here are so nice--plain old nice. I've asked for directions and had a man lead me to the bus and flag it down for me, and three times when I asked the way to a certain street at a stoplight, the other driver told me to follow him. (I get lost a lot.) The people here are genuinely warm and kind, and seem completely family-oriented. Utopia.

So it's fascinating to me that every museum and religious site I go to, be it ancient Mayan or contemporary Catholic, and book about Mexico I read, stress death. I can't wait to see what the Easter celebrations have in store.

Art Fair Trend: Paper Cut, Diced, Collaged, and Folded

Seong Chun, Untitled Without End

Artists were doing so much with paper beyond collage, and I was really impressed with how malleable the typically flat medium was in the hands of artists like Seong Chun, above and below. Her other works on view at Pulse created similarly geometric forms whose shape belied their delicateness and intricacy. They seem obsessive and painstaking, even more so when I learned the artist prints the words onto the paper herself.

Seong Chun, detail

While trend sounds like group think, what artists do with this material is anything but. I wasn't sure if William Daniel's sculpture was paper when I first saw it because it is quite perfect and precise. It looks like it was taken from the chapel of an Italian church, and I enjoy how it plays with our perceptions of reality and materiality, and ultimately in its memento mori subject how it tackles death with something as unsubstantial as paper.

William Daniels, Vase of Flowers in a Window Niche, 2004

It's hard to get a sense of the mass created in this collage by Francis Stark, which takes up surprising volume. In its awkward, gawky way, it builds up into a Frankenstein lady of beauty.

Francis Stark, Not Yet Titled, 2010

The groups of works below from Abigail Reynold's Universal Now series are probably my favorite work of cut collage. Her collages enmesh found photographs of landmarks and monuments that were taken from a similar vantage point at different points in time.

Abigail Reynolds, Installation View at Armory

It creates an interesting interplay between times, and visually the flipped up edges of paper make one examine the work from multiple angles. Overall it plays with geometric lines in three instead of two dimensions--sharing a quality I appreciated in Seong Chun's work. Here a photograph from 1989 is underlying a photo from 1991.

Abigail Reynolds, Post Office Tower 1989/1999, 2009

On the less than interesting side of this paper collaging fever...I've seen an inordinate amount of Victoriana collages, in general and during the fairs, often tinting and/or cutting old Victorian engravings to create fantastic scenes. Such simplistic collage would be more interesting with a less trite subject.

Ruth Marten, Gathering

Size Matters: Liliana Porter at Pulse

Forced Labor: weaver (blue III), 2008

Size matters. This diminutive knitter by Liliana Porter is an exercise in scale speaking volumes. Domesticity is overwhelming.


For more little people, check out a favorite project of mine, Little People- a tiny street art project.

Art Fair Trend: Writing on the Wall

Santiago Sierra, No, 2009

No more! Like a two tone, blown up, gaudy portrait of a celebrity's face is a tired take on Warhol, writing on the wall seemed like a similar convention by the end of the art fairs. I get it; it's convenient to spit out your message, sardonic, mocking or inscrutable as it may be, then let the peons wonder. But I am no longer impressed--the same goes for cars being put in galleries (Gabriel Orozco, whoever you were at Independent, and especially you, overhyped BHQF at the Whintey) and for the raven trope (be they stuffed, cast, molded, silhouettes, or talking.) Maybe it was the art fair atmosphere, but I lost the distinction between signage and art about a day into it.

Peter Liverside, Little By Little

Walter Robinson, Worth, 2010

Tracy Emin, I keep belonging in you

Ivan Capote, Autumn all fall

Steve Lambert, Money Laundered, 2010

Ryan Gander

So I suppose it's clear why Ryan Gander's piece at Armory, of busted up signage, appealed to me, despite myself, just a little bit. On the whole though, it's just become a boring way to convey something. All these photos were taken at Pulse and Armory on the last day of the fairs, when I was thoroughly sick of sayings, aphorisms, declarations etc, but Verge, Independent and Scope had their fair share. Does anyone else notice all the writing on the wall? What did you think of it?

Chichen Itza: New Wonder of the World

The seven NEW wonders of the world might be a suspect commercial ploy, but the actual site of Chichen Itza, with its glorious central pyramid and extensive other buildings, is anything but. Chichen Itza was built largely between 700 and 1000 AD.

El Castillo, below, is about 80 feet high, and contains a smaller, older pyramid inside. It was dedicated to the feathered serpent god Kukucan, and is aligned with the stars. Around this time of year, the sun will the right side of the pyramid that you see here in a manner that causes a shadow along the left side that looks like a serpent. Carved serpent heads sit on either side of the stairs at the bottom of that side.


All these years later, it is astonishing to see the perfect lines of the structure.


Many other temples and buildings such as a steam bath and an observatory encircle El Castillo. The carvings, weathered and lacking their original colors, remain intricate and fascinating. The skill it took to create and decorate such structures is astonishing, and made even the heat and all the tourists worth it. This wall of skulls was was part of a smaller sacrificial site nearby.


The eagle and the jaguar were important symbols for the ancient Maya. Here you can make out eagle holding something up in its claw: a beating human heart. Removing the heart from living prisoners was done to placate the gods and ensure the return of the sun.


On a lighter note, who knew the Mayans invented tic tac toe?


Chichen Itza is one of the largest sites, and the most heavily touristed--it even has a lightshow on the pyramid at night. However, Mayan ruins abound across the Yucatan peninsula, where I am, and I can't wait to see more this weekend and learn more about the people who originally created them.

Common Thread at the Art Fairs: Nicholas Hlobo, Jessica Rankin, Sara Rahbar

Nicholas Hlobo, [anybody know the title?]

I had a romance with textile works before, but after seeing some of the works at the art fairs I'm absolutely in love with threads. These three pieces struck me as using textile well. Unfortunately the stills I made from video (after my camera died!) are pretty horrific, so let me explain that above Nicholas Hlobo stitched on thick cream paper with thread that wandered across the surface picking up detritus like the surgical mask in the bottom left corner. It took up a huge space at the Michaela Stevensona Gallery booth at the Armory.

Also at the Armory, Jessica Rankin stitches, or rather creates a kind of delicate tapestry, of glittering dark threads with words interspersed below.

Jessica Rankin, Dark Star

Detail shot of the words, left, show how well integrated they are in the piece, and also what a nice shadow they created on the wall behind. WhiteCube Gallery says the artist's work features a series of ‘mental maps’, with codes, signs and symbols that explore ideas of memory, intuition and interpretation.

The threads in these works were delicate tendrils, trying to hold things together in a bare palette. Then with a joy I saw flag by Sara Rahbar at Pulse Art Fair. The Iranian artist often works with flags to deal with the meaning of culture on an individual level. Here she collaged thick decorative floral patterns over the American flag. The artist works with themes of identity, location, country, so perhaps it is not so far fetched that this work by an Iranian artist who grew up in the United States should speak to me about my trip to Mexico, which, by the by, is going splendidly.

Sara Rahbar, The Fortune Teller (Flag #25), 2008

Eye Candy: Piotr Uklanski at the Armory

Untitled, 2010

Piotr Uklanski is everywhere these days. The artist, whose contribution to the Whitney Biennial differed strongly, had this candy-colored piece up at the Armory. This large resin on aluminum image was not only as appealing as candy, but it managed to stick out of the Armory melee. It was part of a strong show from the Galerie Emmanuel Perrotin, which is currently battling it out with the awesome Jack Shainman in my head for Armory gallery supremacy.

If you missed Uklanski's piece, never fear. Head to IKEA soon to see sculpture by the artist. Yep, that's right: IKEA.

Whitney Biennial 2010: "Taste is like your..."

Robert Grosvenor, Untitled (images via Vernissage TV)

The Whitney Biennial reminds me of a lovely old Swedish saying my mother used to tell me, "Taste is like your ass--divided." Somehow I saw 2010 Whitney Biennial and came out with the exact same reaction as Jerry Saltz (his piece in New York Magazine is probably the best)- and yet to a different conclusion. He left the Whitney Museum with a "giant burst of happiness for the infinite creativity of America" and I left with a vague sense of blahness that not even some stellar pieces could enliven.

Piotr Uklanski, Untitled

There was work on display that surprised and challenged me, and that I loved. Piotr Uklanski's gigantic cloth wall was stunning. Charles Ray did images of flowers. They were simple and good--and how refreshing among all the pieces to see work that didn't feel the need to be deep or explore issues to prove itself but just to be. Robert Grosvenor's work incited a visceral reaction in me, with its combination of textured red and glossy steel that I wanted to touch. It was simple and approachable. And I was startled by the range of great video installations that needed more time than I had the evening I went to see them.

Charles Ray, Installation View

On the other hand, some of the more popular works left me unimpressed. The Bruce High Quality Foundation's hearse video was OK, but pedantic (and personally I would be happy never to see another car of any make or model in a gallery again). Nina Berman’s photographs of Ty Ziegel, a severely wounded marine sergeant, are certainly well shot, but I think people mistake how affecting their content is for the artist's contribution.

Bruce High Quality Foundation, I Like America and America Likes Me

I agree that having a smaller show was nice; I agree that not having a theme might reflect a more authentic plurality of artistic practices than what a curator might impart; I agree there is room for less bombastic exhibitions. This year's Biennial is all those things. If those are the effects of being on a budget, then hail and well met. I even agree that there is no way to produce a biennial that would be so good everyone would agreed it showed the best of American art. But certainly the best American art is less blah, as many pieces were, and more compelling?

But I take that back. The danger of the Whitney Biennial is that as the biennial of American art, people feel they are supposed to come away with pronouncements about the state of the visual arts in America. This exhibition itself is less presumptuous, yet its "cross section of contemporary art production" hardly escapes the unmanageable expectations of people, including my own. Let's just say you can expect to see a varied, interesting exhibition whose viewing will probably contain a few passionate reactions and a few shrugs.

SCOPE- A Video Walk Through

Finally! I took this video at SCOPE art fair's preview last Wednesday afternoon, and I am just now getting it up for your viewing pleasure. My original thought was to have it finished before the fair opened, so people could see if they were interested in attending but, alas, it was not to be. Better late than never!

If you did go, how did you like it? SCOPE was probably a favorite of mine, not only for the quality of work but for the manageability of the fair overall.

Time to Hammer it Out

Jonathan Schipper's Raining Blood
Pierogi Gallery at Verge Art Fair

So here I am in Mexico, and I feel like I haven't written in weeks. I have a lot to catch up on, plus a new place to explore!

If only I had a sheet of music, like Schipper's figure who dances (or twitches?) in response to the sheet of piano music scrolling through the machine, that could help me bang out some of my thoughts. For my writing, I think I'll have to pick a sound track other than Slayer's Raining Blood though.

So much art from the New York art fairs, so little time.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

SMartCamp: Social Media Art Camp

I'm on a break from SMartCAMP, and wow! is it fabulous to hear some of the speakers so far. The opening presentation by Marc Schiller, of Wooster Collective, reminds me of why I love blogging.

Schiller stumbled into blogging because he was looking for a way to host photographs he had taken of street art in his neighborhood, the West Village, while walking his dog. Since then, the blog he has created with his wife Sara has become an authority on street art that mainstream media turns to for content. Schiller still runs the project as a passion rather than a job, and it's well-worth checking out if you aren't familiar with the site.

Favorite Quote: "It's okay to be a bit crap, as long as you are sincere and honest."



If you want in on the action, check out the live stream on the website or the conversation on twitter by searching #smartcamp. I'm @linnea_west. This afternoon is focused on video and putting them online--perfect timing for my video of Scope and hopefully Pulse. The art fairs have been amazing so far, even more so to me after being on the island for 3 months.

However, it's not for long. I just booked my ticket for Mexico, and I leave this Tuesday morning. I'll probably be there a couple months--which just might be enough time to catch you up on all the art I've seen! Quick judgments: Whitney Biennial can be skipped, William Kentridge at MoMA cannot, Independent is interesting if chaotic, Scope better than Verge, and hopefully I'll be able to say something about Pulse, Armory, and Volta soon!

Verge Emerging Art Fair

Certainly there is a place among the New York art fairs for a venue dedicated to emerging artists--however, I'm not sure how well Verge fills it. While much of the work was interesting and well-executed, even exciting, overall the quality was uneven.

The set up in the Dylan Hotel was extraordinarily intimate, with each organization having a separate room. This could be good or bad, depending on the people and art. Scariest moment: When I walked into an empty, dimly lit room to watch a video playing on a white screen around which a mirror and sex toys were arranged, I said to my friend that the video projection must be reflecting in the mirror, when a disembodied voice replied, "No, it's playing through the latex screen." I jumped out of my skin!

If that was the bad (and not so very horrible at that), this is the good:

Work by John Breiner, Mighty Tanaka Gallery

• Brooklyn galleries represent! Some great work from Antidote, Slate, Wildspace, and others.

Marc Anthony Polizzi, Untitled, 2010

• Installations from the large sprawling pinkness on the 2nd floor stairwell (above) to metal boxes and bedspreads (Galerie Yellow Fish Art)
  



• Take something besides a flier home: from a ASMPNY project benefiting Haiti to Fuse Works, which promotes multiples and editioned work, not only can you afford to take something home, but you can even put your token in a Artist Meeting Art Machine, a fine art dispensing device set up in the lobby.



Laurence Hegarty, Cash Register, Sarah Nightingale Gallery

What bothers me about Verge is not that anything is so very terrible about it, but that it should be better than it is. Emerging art should be the most exciting work to see, and here the uneven curation left me with the feeling I had been at a thrift store, sorting through racks to find a good sweater.


L