Two Crucifixions

First I went to Skin Fruit at the New Museum, where I saw Pawel Althamer's 'Schedule of the Crucifix' of 2005 enacted, not by the man above but by another artist who ascended his position a little later than his 3 pm schedule and seemed intent on hanging from the leather straps for a good while. In addition to the leather straps, he sits on a bicycle seat--making the position demanding but not insupportable.

Then I went to see The Artist is Present at MoMA, where I saw a re-enactment of Marina Abramovic's Luminosity of 1997 where a naked women appears high on a wall, sitting on a bicycle seat with her heels resting on metal supports. Her arms spread wide away from her, whether holding onto the metal straps or high above her head. She maintains this position in a brightly lit square of light. While not distinctly a crucifixion, the position is similar and is places the performer on a wall as does Schedule of the Crucifixion.

Is there a connection between the two visually similar and striking pieces of performance art? The former seemed theatrical in comparison to the starkness of the latter performance. I felt like I was watching a living statue or a painting come to life. I couldn't watch either for a long time and thankfully was distracted from the performance by a train of thought about bicycle seats. Second train of thought: performance artists are made of different stuff than I. Very, very different stuff.

The Disappointment That Was Skin Fruit

Chris Ofili, Charles Ray, Kara Walker, Paul McCarthy, Cindy Sherman, Kiki Smith, Tino Seghal, Seth Price, Janine Antoni, Richard Price, Urs Fischer. It's a roll call of blue chip artists and by that very merit ought to have more resonance than Skin Fruit, the exhibition currently up at the New Museum, does.

A lot has been made, justly, of the museum using the collection of Dakis Joannou to create a show. After all he is a Trustee of the New Museum--creating a bit of a conflict of interests. Conflict number one being whether to show so much unappealing work; conflict two being whether the show benefits more himself and his cohorts rather than the public. The show is curated by Jeff Koons, who just so happens to be collected by Dakis Joannou, and just so happened to include himself--via the basketball--in the show.

One Ball Total Equilibrium Tank, 1985

But let's put that aside and move on to the fact that between Dakis Joannou and Jeff Koons the worst taste ever demonstrated is on display. Judgment call? Yes, but how they can make artists I like (Chris Ofili, Charles Ray, Cindy Sherman) look so bad is beyond me. It takes a special sort of taste: one that prefers feral humanoids liberally sprinkled with fur and confuses brash ugliness with boldness.

To compound the problem, the works were stuffed in together so that it was hard to "appreciate" any of them. If anything, it seemed like a Nouveau Riche Victorian households where costly bric-a-brac crowd the mantle. I mean, if you are watching somebody climb up a crucifix (Pawel Althamer's Schedule of the Crucifixion), you don't want to have to weave your way through glass and chocolate structures to get an unobstructed view of the performance. The show was certainly not the best choice for my first art experience back in NYC. I left generally disgusted and more than a bit enraged that the New Museum continues to disappoint. On the bright side, the show ends June 6.

Today is the day...

that I officially enter my late 20s. Luckily, now that I am back in NYC, I am surrounded by friends to celebrate with!

Transitions

Lots of transitions this past week, from flying out of Mexico and landing in New York in the evening to the glimmer of city lights...

To a new (temporary) home by a different ocean in a rather chilly, wet climate....

Interspersed with lots of long subway rides...


Into Manhattan, which hasn't changed a bit.

I'm going through a bit of reverse culture shock. Even now that I've gotten some clothes out of storage and settled into a new space and seen old friends, I still answer people with a "si" instead of a "yes" and am overwhelmed by the subway at rush hour. This week should be a bit easier, so hopefully I can tell you about my (incorrect) assumption that visiting the New Museum's Skin Fruit exhibition would help me ease into things by reminding me how much I love the art scene here.

Biggest Art Theft Ever??

Workers at the Museum of Modern Art of the City of Paris noticed a broken window before noticing the 5 missing masterpiece in what was probably a commissioned art heist this morning. Picasso's 'Dove with Green Peas' (1912), Matisse's 'Pastoral' (1906), George Braque's 'Landscape with Olive Tree' (1906), Amedeo Modogliani's 'Woman with a Fan' (1919) and Fernand Leger's 'Still Life with a Chandelier' (1922) were taken. Read more about it here.

I love a good art theft--I just finished a novel about an art theif after all--and what a loot! If it weren't for the fact that now I'll never be able to view the works myself, I would be impressed. Currently I'm just jealous.

Julie Heffernan's Constructions of Self

My article has been included in the new edition of Escape Into Life Magazine about the paintings of Julie Heffernan:

Julie Heffernan creates sensuous figurative paintings, like co-Yale MFAS, John Currin and Linda Yuskavage, but her luminous oils are patently unique among them and most working artists today. A Victorian impetus to conjoin, edging toward pastiche, creates artfully staged Surrealist environments. They avoid the mawkish or macabre by virtue of an evocative 17th century Baroque styling and the dignity with which she handles her primary subject, herself. Good construction is essential to the success of such works, built of disparate things suggesting disparate philosophies and ages. Yet the finished product is seamless, making it easy for the viewer to willfully suspend disbelief in the face of rampant artifice.

Heffernan currently has a show up at PPOW (which I have yet to actually see) in NYC, so go check out her fantastic, intriguing work if you have the chance. Her "Booty" show in 2007 made such a lasting impression on me I wrote this piece years later.

Ch-ch-changes

Last Day in Mexico

Please excuse me- the ocean is calling.

Rimbaud's Sensation

Arthur Rimbaud was a French Decadent poet who produced his best known works in his late teens and gave up creative writing before he reached 21. This recently discovered photo is of the poet, second from the right, at around 30 years of age. Known as a libertine and a restless soul, he traveled extensively before his death from cancer shortly his 37th birthday.





Sensation

On blue summer evenings, I'll go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the wheat, walking on thin grass:
Dreamer, I'll feel its freshness at my feet:
I'll let the wind bathe my bare head.

I won't speak, I won't think about anything:
But infinite love will rise in my soul;
And I'll go far, very far, as a bohemian,
Into Nature, — blessed as if with a woman.

Blackbirds singing, cawing, whatever, in the dead of night

Conference of Rooks

Blackbirds, rooks, crow, ravens...whatever you call them, these birds are almost a trope in contemporary art, reminiscent of a Victorian Goth aesthetic. They are often considered ill omens. Unless, that is, they frequent your Mexican doorstep, twice the size of any normal birds, chattering away. You have to get used to them. Here in Playa del Carmen, at any rate, there are only rooks rather than the enormous turkey vultures that used to buzz around the patio in Merida. These two videos from the New York art fairs this past March capture how noisy these birds can be.


Kristof Kintera at Jiri Svestka Gallery, Armory 2010

Personally, I've had the creeps over birds ever since seeing Alfred Hitchcock's film The Birds years ago. Moving to New York city and being surrounded by pigeons as clean as rats didn't help my aversion. The turkey buzzards probably made it worse, and now a neighborhood rooster wakes me up around 6 every morning. I am not fond of birds.

What is it about these fellows that captures the imagination anyhow?

Empire State of Mind

If all my tweets are about things happening in NYC:

1. Five Art Shows to Catch Before Closing -- New York Magazine http://ht.ly/1HXyt about 15 hours ago via HootSuite
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2. RT @artnetdotcom: Today's 1,000-point market plunge may be because Citi trader hit "b" for billion instead of "m" for million... about 17 hours ago via HootSuite
   • Delete
3. RT @MuseumModernArt: RT @JackRicofficial: Lady Gaga was at the MoMa museum today: http://tweetphoto.com/21317606 about 18 hours ago via HootSuite
   • Delete
4. Pitch @Art21 a post on Art&Expereince--maybe web and art? tweet art? : ) http://ht.ly/1HLs7 about 21 hours ago via HootSuite
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5. Looks fun! RT@RSHotel: First ever Great Nude Invitational @RSHotel May 13-16, we are SO excited! For info and RSVP http://bit.ly/dssKSL about 22 hours ago via HootSuite

and my favorite things to write about were seen in NYC, hello William Kentridge! and New York art fairs, then maybe it's a sign I should go back soon. Which, conveniently enough, I am. May 17. That is really soon (eep!).



Time to get in an Empire State of mind...

Such Great Heights

can be scary looking down.


Especially if you have a fear of heights that the idea of a rope hanging down the side of steep, ancient steps on the open face of a 15 story building can't quite reconcile. Coba is one of the last Mayan pyramids that visitors can climb. At least they have a rope.

Cenotes...

are difficult to photograph.


You walk down a spiral staircase 40 or 50 feet, and walk out in this egg-shaped cave half full of water. The artificial lighting casts shadows on the crevices in the limestone and the stalactites drip into the crystal clear water.


The water is so clear, it's hard to imagine that the rocks you see so clearly are 30 feet below the surface.



So you take multiple photos, trying to capture the effect.


Once again, you curse yourself for not buying some really expensive, nice camera before you started this long adventure. You think of all the shots you missed over the last few months of traveling. Then you jump in the cold water and swim with the black, eyeless fishies.