Archive for the 'Art' Category

So, if you saw the film Project Grizzly by director Peter Lynch then you really must check out Grizzly Proof, a conceptual art show inspired by the film and by the very human and lovable Troy Hurtubise. Human vs. nature was explored by all the artists in different mediums at the Flux Factory; which was a great space for this event, as long as you don’t mind trekking out to Queens.

Once you enter the room your eyes are pulled in so many directions as you try to decide what to look at first. There was the huggable fuzzy bear sleeping bag in the middle of the floor (”Bear Hugg” by Lisa Dillin) which you can actually snuggle up and zip yourself into. Then I was drawn to the loopy and fun “Hairy Blob with Arrows” by Fabienne Lasserre. And, how could I forget Paul Burn’s “Bear Cave” which was a humongous cave to peek into. I climbed into it’s secret little hidden interior to watch Burn’s and Stuyvesant’s “Grizzly Quest” video. I swear that cave was like a clown car, multitudes of people kept entering and exiting all night.

Some of the most notable projects were the simplistic, yet poignant and precise “Log” by Dominique Blais and the multimedium “What it Takes to Fold a Giant Bear” by Ian Montgomery which took the traditional artform of origami to a quirky postmodern and oversized level and it was spiced up with video documentation at super speeds.

Audience favorite of the evening (also got my vote!) was the interactive metal “Foosball Table” by Chris Hackett (metal work) and Eleanor Lovinsky (handcrafted figurines of little bears and little Troys). The crowd errupted around this piece of art as MANY games of foosball went on and on into the night.

The artists did not take themselves too seriously, which successfully added a level of playful intimacy and captured the truth of the film. Grizzly Proof was curated by Jean Barberis, Kerry Downey and Chen Tamir. The exhibit runs through April 12 on Saturdays and Sundays from 2-6 PM or by appointment.

Overall: I liked it- go play!

The sixth letter of the alphabet certainly carries a lot of weight. …Stop counting on your fingers—we’re talking about words that begin with the letter “F.” In What F Word?, at Cynthia Broan Gallery, curator Carol Cole Levin examines what the “F” word means to various female artists over the past forty-five years.

In many instances, the viewer is faced with determining the artist’s answer to the question. Brenda Oelbaum, for example, shows a woman painting her toenails on a rug depicting Osama Bin Laden. Interestingly, Oelbaum used a Jesus hooked rug kit to make Osama’s Bin Degraded. Is the artist commenting on freedom? After all, we’ve all been conditioned to believe, “The terrorists hate our freedom.” Or perhaps, by have a woman audaciously paint her nails (her toenails at that!) on the face of a terrorist, the artist is farcically mocking fear.

Perhaps, there is no set “F” word, but multiple meanings within each work:

Sabyna Sterrett in Flood, hand stitches pearls on fabric printed with fish (a Christian symbol of faith) to memorialize the devastating Easter flood in 1979 of the Pearl River that flows through Mississippi, the same river that was dragged for bodies during civil rights trials in the 60’s.

Within this single work, we face such “F” words as “flood,” fabric,” “fish,” and “faith.”

Other works, like Deborah Kass’ Quote Louise Bourgeois, appear more obvious, though the viewer may or may not agree with the viewpoint. The downward spiral of words read: “Woman has no place in the art world unless she proves over and over again she won’t be eliminated.” But just because a work has words on it, doesn’t mean it is clear or literal. Dana Frankfort very simply paints the word “Faith,” but there’s no indication as to what the artist’s opinion of this particular “F” word is. In a work such as this, the viewer’s perspective of the word is just as important as the artist’s to understanding the full implications of the word.

The thought-provoking exhibit uses photographs, video, painting, and sculpture to probe our culture’s ideals.

What F Word? raises more questions than it asks.

Female. Feminism. Fag. Flag. Foreign. Friend. Foe. Fascist. Force. Faith. Fundamentalism. Fanatic. Follower. Fear. Finances. Fire. Flood. Food. Fat. Fart. F**k. Fudge. Flip. Freak. Farce. Fact. Fiction. Freedom. Forgive.

Are these “F” words positive or negative? Why do they have so much power behind them? Should a word like “feminism” be equated with a swear word? What about the word “faith”? Does it really make a difference whether you exclaim “fudge,” “flip,” or “freak,” when everyone knows what you really mean?

So, with my friend, Honey in tow I braved the single digit wind chill and wandered through the streets of Brooklyn in UNCOOL anticipation. As we reached Freddy’s Backroom at 8ish PM, we smiled with elation while eagerly gripping 2 beat-up cardboard boxes, some plastic kiddie scissors, glue, styrofoam round thingees and a few other oddities we found lying around the apartment. We were ready for a fun-filled evening of making dioramas- yes, yes… you remember those adorably crappy little boxes filled with household crafty items and/or junk that your mother was once so proud of and your dad thought was just plain stupid.

We enter Freddy’s with delight. Huh- well, let’s see… there’s some band in the backroom breaking down their set, but we see NO other diorama-making creative geniuses anxious to play with primitive art supplies. So, we saddle up to the bartender.

ME: Oh, hi. We’re here for the Diorama Lodge.

BARTENDER: Oh… is it diorama night? No I don’t think so, I think maybe she took March off.

Ahhh, the disappointment was ALMOST too much to bear (especially since said bartender did NOT share a round of free drinks with these 2 weary diorama-less travelers to ease our sadness at this disheartening revelation. But, then we spotted them: 2 guys (strangers with an artistic glint in their eyes) hanging at the bar with all sorts of strange items that could ONLY be… yes, you guessed it- diorama supplies!!! Okay, SO THEN THERE WERE 4.

So, the next little while was spent constructing a nifty, yet half-ass group diorama over a pack of cherry Pez with folks named Fluff, Honey & Paul. We watched the little frogs swimming in the aquarium and discussed scuba diving in Thailand and fuzzy hats and discovered that everybody liked dogs. Ooh, and apparently Lake Baikl in Siberia is one of the freshest bodies of water and is home to blind fish, hummels and seals. “You will overcome many obstacles”, said the crumbly old fortune cookie from Fluff’s pocket.

No one from Freddy’s ever came by to check on us to take a drink order and we weren’t in the mood to hang at the bar, so we took a field trip with our new found friends down the street to Burrito Bar for some pom margaritas, cold beer and okay Mexican food- yum!

Overall: Wasn’t that impressed with Freddy’s, and the diorama lodge was kind of a bust cause it apparently was cancelled without all weblinks getting this info so the news was not widely spread. To be fair though, Freddy’s website had the correct information (THANKS FREDDY’S- WE STILL LOVE YOU), but it just goes to show you can have fun in any situation you happen to find yourself in as long as you have a little patience, some people willing to be silly, some pez and a smile.

PS: For anyone interested- according to the fortune cookie your lucky numbers are 12, 24, 47, 1, 25 & 38.

I braved the snow this morning and made my way out to Chelsea’s Mixed Greens Gallery to check out A. A. Rucci’s newest exibit, “Don’t Take All Night, To Show Me You Love Me”. I often forget to take the time to browse through Chelsea’s many tiny and lovely galleries. It is always oddly satisfying: the clean white walls, empty rooms of exciting new work, quietness save for the clicking of heels walking slowly around the space.

Today was no different. The gallery was empty, and I was free to wander in total silence. The collection was small and sparse but enjoyable none the less. Rucci’s work uses brilliant color and texture, and thus pops off the smooth white walls. The brightness of each painting burns your eyes a little, but the effect is unusual and exciting. Some of his work is dedicated solely to this examination of color, often through thin bright stripes and circular canvases. Other paintings in the collection are slightly more narrative , featuring bodies with no heads and colorful birds.

The highlights of the collection are the few sculptures Rucci has included this time around. The sculptures involve gold birds perched in diverse spaces. They are unexpected and beautifully frivolous. Also be sure to seek out the titles of each painting which are hidden in the corner of the gallery on tiny white slips of paper, and not next to the painting. The titles are long, enchanting sentences that add volumes to each work of art.

Though I wouldn’t necessarily say this particular exhibit is a must see, it is an excellent example of what you are missing out on if you forget to take the occasional (and completely free!!) tour of the many Chelsea galleries.

Most shows begin when the curtains rise, but at Galerie Poller (547 West 27th St., NY) the curtains are the show. It may seem a tad too avant-garde to photograph the very tapestries you ignore while pretending to leaf through your playbill while you scan the room for a closer seat, but Joachim Schulz’s “lichtspiele” shows that art lurks in the shadows of even the most overlooked items.

Shultz proves what directors already know: even the minutest of details sets the tone for a stage production. Each photograph is approximately the same size and presents the curtains from the same angle: from top to bottom, but with no elaborate overhead or scuffed-up wooden floor peaking out from underneath. Therefore, the color of the curtains and their individual texture take center stage as the photographer shows the implications of lighting.

During a play, when the spotlight zeroes in on one of the characters, your attention focuses on the actor. However, when the spotlight hovers on a curtain, you notice the light instead of the object of its attention, as evidenced in “cinestar hagen, grün,” “cinestar bremen, rot,” and “cineplex bremen Schwarz.” Similarly, the four pillars of lights in “cineplex münster, rotgrün” draw your attention away from the mere fabric. The bright orb of a spotlight becomes its own show as the audience expectantly waits for the curtains to rise so the show can begin.

Since the curtains never rise in Schulz’s photographs, it is the less-obvious lighting that truly brings out the beauty of the curtains. The close ups reveals a labyrinth of deep folds that shelter the stage from hordes of prying eyes. Red curtains are ablaze with subtle lighting. Several photographs romanticize the curtains to such an extent that the tapestries resemble an evening gown. But, “cinemaxx wuppertal, bunt” looks like the tacky drapes you’d find in a suburban concert hall.

The photographs will be on display through March 17. If an exhibit devoted solely to stage curtains is too abstract for your taste, don’t rule Schulz out completely. There are some rather quirky works on his interactive website.

Straight from the streets of Brazil comes Ruas de São Paulo: A Survey of Brazilian Street Art. Ensconced within a gallery, the graffiti feels anything but confined as it sprawls across the newly expanded Jonathan LeVine Gallery (located at 529 West 20th Street, 9E, NYC). Catch the work of Boleta, Fefê Talavera, Highraff, Kboco, Onesto, Speto, Titi Freak, and Zezão before it leaves on March 17. The gallery is open Tuesday through Saturday, 11 AM to 6 PM.

As cutting edge as it’s supposed to be, graffiti begins to feel a bit passé here in New York when you pass tag after tag sprayed across tenements. Thanks to Ruas de São Paulo we can now see the stylings of Brazil without blowing all our rent money on airfare. The colorful and expansive exhibit demonstrates the unique cultural influences that impact art in São Paulo.

Kboco’s work, replete with totemic aboriginal forms, is a prime example of the impression the indigenous population has on Brazilian art. Likewise, Talavera’s work is inspired by Aztec and Mayan myth. Northeastern Brazil is represented in Speto’s work, which invokes its traditional woodcarving styles. As Jonathan LeVine Gallery points out, “he fuses modern techniques with Brazilian cultural heritage to create a distinctive form of street art.”

Of course, São Paulo’s industrialization is one of the primary factors at play in the artists’ work. Jonathan LeVine Gallery explains:

Ruas de São Paulo captures the changing Brazilian urban landscape, raw and uninhibited graffiti scene, and is a snapshot of a thriving movement stemming from a rich political and poetic history. A city destroyed by pichação (markings originating from inner-city, impoverished neighborhoods), these young, innovative Brazilian muralists are now transforming, and beautifying, the city of São Paulo.

Zezão has found one of the most intriguing ways to incorporate a modern-day convenience that we take for granted into art: he actually paints in the sewer system and subterranean water ducts of São Paulo. We’re glad that the art world has finally taken street art seriously enough to put it on display at a gallery so we don’t have to slosh around in the sewers to see the work of one of Brazil’s leading abstract graffiti artists.

Jenny Gottstein, who was involved with Graffiti NYC, notices how urbanism affects art. She compares the graffiti in São Paulo with that of Salvador da Bahia, a less-developed city in the northeast:

The interesting thing about Salvador is that a lot of the art is characterized by an Orixa theme (the afro-Brazilian gods that are so highly venerated in the area). The Ruas de Sao Paulo event was interesting, because it presented a group of artists who tend to inject a more international/cosmopolitan edge into their work. But despite any resemblance to the street art happening in Europe, Japan, and the U.S., the artwork we saw had a distinctly … at the risk of sounding obvious … Brazilian flavor. Why? Because (like most things that come out of Brazil) the pieces had an inherent musicality to them.

The influence of music on art in Brazil was the subject of the Bronx Museum of the Arts’s Tropiclia, which closed in January. The artists involved in Ruas de São Paulo likewise cite music and the art surrounding certain musical movements as a major influence on their work. Speto is into hip-hop, while Boleta and Highraff show psychedelic influences. Talavera literally makes her work out of the concert posters plastered throughout the city.

More than simply a collection of graffiti, the Ruas de São Paulo exhibit reflects Brazil’s deep heritage while exploring the contemporary art movement. The works of each artist are highly individualistic and insanely beautiful.

Drama adds a bit of excitement to Spanish Painting from El Greco to Picasso: Time, Truth, and History at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum (1071 Fifth Avenue, NYC). Like a sequel to The Thomas Crown Affair, Francisco de Goya y Lucientes’s painting Children with a Cart (1778) was hijacked last November when it was en route to the art museum. The FBI stepped in to investigate, and the painting was safely returned to the Guggenheim on February 21. From now until March 28, you can stand before this and 134 other diverse paintings from the sixteenth to the mid-twentieth century. General admission to the museum is $18, though every Friday from 5:45 – 7:15 PM you can pay what you wish. All visitors receive complimentary audio tours, and there are free tours by docents daily at noon and 2:00.

Beyond the stolen Goya painting, Spanish Painting from El Greco to Picasso raises some eyebrows for breaking from traditional art history constraints of what constitutes Spanish painting. The Guggenheim explains:

Until recently art historians bracketed Spanish painting between El Greco and Goya, maintaining that 20th-century avant-garde movements such as Cubism and Surrealism—both of which were pioneered by artists of Spanish origin—broke completely with the traditions that preceded them. Today we have sufficient historical perspective to see that, despite their revolutionary aesthetic leaps, the great artists of the early twentieth century were nourished by traditional models that were, furthermore, local in character.

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According to its organizers, the lovely ladies of Cudzoo, The Bad Art Party was created with the intention of celebrating

1.”human creativity in its most unacceptable and morally objectionable forms”

and

2. “the art we pour our hearts into, only to realize it sucks.”

In my opinion, they succeeded at the first but could have upped the gasp factor, and should be commended for making an attempt at the second. I came expecting odd-ball folk artists displaying the kind of art you’d maybe find for sale in a lonely strip-mall hallway kiosk somewhere in middle America. What I found was that most of the art on display was intentionally awful, and mostly hilarious.

Rather than celebrating creative fuck-ups, it felt more like a reclamation of the way we experience art by demystifying it through blatant irreverence, heavy drinking, and a warm embrace for all who came through the door. If you’re like me, you’d rather hold your loved one under the covers while farting than spend an excrutiating night holding in your discomfort in the name of decorum. In much the same way, it just feels healthier to boo an artist (encouraged at this event) for her mediocrity rather than hold your breath at a fancy exhibition of garbage (literally) for fear of your own stupidity (imagined or real) leaking out (like so much methane).

If you’re still with me after that simile, I salute you and encourage you to keep an eye out for future events sponsored by Cudzoo.

If said ladies are reading, however, what was with the pop music and TVs playing sports? Are there no bad video artists? I mean, are there any video artists that are not bad? Or, not not bad? Is there no awesomely bad music in the world? The competing media was confusing, and at one point I thought I overheard the bar regulars discussing mutiny.

In the general spirit of the evening, I give you my final summary: BOOO. Go back to art school you losers (I kid!).

“Contemporary art is a discourse always explained but never understood.”- Patrick Mimvan. This quote was surreptitiously placed on a huge billboard outside the Nicole Klagsbrun gallery on 26th st and 10th avenue. Keep that quote in mind as I try my best to illustrate the punk rock ass kickery that is Ted Riederer’s, “The Resurrectionists.”

The concept behind the exhibit is that Ted and his friends beat the holy hell out of a drum set, two guitars and a shiny red bass. Then in the grand tradition of Humpty Dumpty he methodically puts all the pieces back together again. Then this poet/ warrior composes a piece of music and records it using the reconstructed pieces!

“But why? Dear God Why?”’ you may ask.

He does this to illustrate his love of one word: NOTHING! He believes the word nothing, “…does not point to our insignificance or our unhappiness, but on the contrary to our fulfillment and our divinity, since everything is in ourselves.” Pretty kooky, huh?

The whole instillation is set up on three walls in a sparse all white room that’s maybe 12 x 12 feet. The left hand wall is a painting of the destroyed instruments in a jumbled scrambled egg pile.

The right hand wall has a series of printed individual brown and black .45 records pinned to it. One says: “Q- the use of the living for the dead.” Another one states: “A- the use of the dead for the living.” Smack in the middle of the wall is a large print of a funeral wreath composed of dried sticks bound with barbed wire.

The center of the room is flanked by two real life funeral wreaths, both of which were bare sticks wound with barbed wire. The one on the left read: “Immaterial Substance” The one on the right had lilies pinned to it and sent the message,”Insoluble Bliss”.(Admittedly, this would all seem really creepy and morbid, but the underlying message here is personal fufillment.)

Between them were the instruments, all put back together and displayed in their resurrected glory. The back wall had a big screen flat panel television. On it was a room in a warehouse.

We get to watch as in alternating slow and fast motion Ted and three of his buddies thrash and pummel the instruments into splinters. The whole time we are treated to a spacey orchestration that Ted wrote and recorded using the instruments in front of us.

The duality of something so simple yet intricate all at the same time made me an instant fan of this dude I never heard of before. It also blew my fuckin’ mind!

Bad News:
• The exhibit ends on Saturday night
• It will subconsciously make you want to destroy things in a Hulk- like fashion

Good News:
• His work can be seen in Altered, Stitched and Gathered at p.s.I/ MoMA.

*BE THE COOLEST KID ON YOUR BLOCK*

• 26th St. between 10th and 11th is a cornucopia filled with a bunch of warehouses each with a gaggle of different galleries in them. This block has art for everyone from post modernists to hard core porno coinsurers. Definitely worth checking out!
AND IT’S ALL FREE!

Okay, so experiencing free street art can be quite serendipitous and downright trendy, unless it’s fucking cold outside at a windchill of 16 degrees. Along with a handful of other teeth-chattering city-goers, I stood at the exterior of New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) to experience Doug Aitken’s Sleepwalkers, an outdoor exhibit consisting of 8 huge moving images appearing on the architecture of the museum itself depicting the lives of 5 seperate people through 5 seperate stories. Each story, quite simple in nature, lasts only 13 minutes. Upon completion, each story then appears on a different screen, creating an ever-changing and individual experience for each viewer (pretty creative really).

The only soundtrack…the true sounds of the city: sirens and traffic and people talking and wind, etc. Ryan Donowho, Seu Jorge, Chan Marshall (aka Cat Power), Donald Sutherland and Tilda Swinton portray the 5 characters in the stories representing people from a full range of bluecollar to white collar careers. We get to witness them going about their mundane everyday lives (Think ‘The Office’ without the comedy). Each story unfolds slowly with routine activities such as waking up, putting on shoes, drinking ones beverage of choice out of one’s personal drinkware (a paper cup, a colorful mug, a recycled jelly jar), standing in front of one’s mirror. Then, we see the monotanous commute to work (be it bike, subway or fancier mode of transportation) , the mindnumbing activities faced daily at the job, endless photocopies, lonely hallways/tunnels, the characters achingly drag through the non-adventures of the day.

Oh, such comments on the sometimes sad and lonely nature of our very existence and the state of peoples lives in America at the moment. The characters live realistically on screen, having absolutely no reactions or interests until they each experience an intense moment of passion/joy/release- but this is only an adventure in their minds, while their bodies continuously stay consumed with the blah blah path of everyday activities. This adventure thankfully takes them away from an unforeseen, yet possibly lifechanging event. Could this be a wakeup call, cityfolk??!!??; warning us not to sleep through our lives in disheartened melancholy? Could this be reminding us to live with the intensity of the creativity burning within us all? Hmmm… have to think on that one.

And hey, by the way, all you crazy cats with cellphones can dial into #408-794-0886 for some interesting & helpful introductory commentary on the artwork, brief comments about the artist’s vision & useful location information. Although, if you don’t know this before you go, then no technical advances for you sucka, as this is not well advertised at the exhibit and, therefore, not understood by most passers-by and/or event visitors.

Image screens are visible from 53rd and 54th Streets, from the concrete throughway in between and from the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Sculpture Garden. The exhibit lasts through February 12th and is viewable each evening from 5-10 PM. Oh, but don’t go grab a coffee or bring your own thermos of hot cocoa to try to warm up, because MOMA won’t let you use the facilities to tinkle!

Overall, a very unusual and interesting concept- very cool and artsy idea. But, hey MOMA, next time let’s do this in the spring or summer- you’ll get a much better turnout & we’ll be much less worried about getting frostbite!