Run straight down to the SFMOMA for Dystopia

The SFMOMA's next film series, "The Future of the Past: Utopia/Dystopia, 1965-1984", starts TODAY and runs Thursdays and Saturdays through April 25th.

Mar 7th @ 1pm: Westworld, 1973 (video)
Mar 7th @ 3pm: Logan's Run, 1976 (video)
Mar 12th @ 7pm: Logan's Run, 1976 (video)
Mar 21st @ 1pm: Soylent Green, 1973 (video)
Mar 21st @ 3pm: A Clockwork Orange, 1972 (video)
Mar 26th @ 7pm: A Clockwork Orange, 1972 (video)
Apr 2nd @ 7pm: Fantastic Planet, 1973 (video)
Apr 4th @ 3pm: Fantastic Planet, 1973 (video)
Apr 9th @ 7pm: Stalker, 1979 (video)
Apr 11th @ 1pm: Stalker, 1979 (video)
Apr 16th @ 7pm: Alphaville, 1965 (video)
Apr 18th @ 1pm: Sleeper, 1973 (video)
Apr 18th @ 3pm: Fahrenheit 451, 1966 (video)
Apr 23rd @ 7pm: Fahrenheit 451, 1966 (video)
Apr 25th @ 1pm: Alphaville, 1965
Apr 25th @ 3pm: 1984, 1984 (video)

While I have heard of most of these movies (and their place in pop culture), I've really only seen one: A Clockwork Orange.

A Clockwork Orange. Wow. I've got a weird association with that movie from high school: whenever I was hanging with a certain group of friends we'd start watching that movie only to get through the first half hour or something.. at which point our attention would turn towards more pressing matters like stealing lawn ornaments or driving around in circles while yelling random shizz out the car windows all night. We had our priorities. ahem.

Yeah, so, I assumed the whole movie was about chronicling the misadventures, ultraviolence and all, of Alex -- "Your Humble Narrator" -- and his crew. Little did I know, at the time, that it wasn't a futuristic snuff film, that it would, instead, be posing questions about, for example, the nature of man's free-will and the need to balance individual freedoms versus social stability (and if that needs to be the zero-sum game it's so often portrayed as). I don't think I was ready to tackle those subjects in high school anyway; hmm.. maybe that's why we never got past the first third of the film?

In any case, I'm planning on checking out at least one of these films, with "Stalker" at the top of the list. But depending on how my schedule shakes out over the next couple of weeks, I may try for "Sleeper", "1984", or -- yes, I could use a refresher on it -- "A Clockwork Orange" too (especially given a personal appreciation for language -- in many forms -- developed over the past couple of years).

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Whoa! "Westworld" is about to start! Run straight down to the SFMOMA; you've got 10 minutes..

So much more than gore and fantasy and folkart

If you "go out" in NYC, no doubt you've heard of Santos Party House (formerly-known-as-and-perhaps-soon-to-swing-back-into Santa's Party House); no doubt you've even gone to check out a cool mix of live acts and djs; and to get your dance on.

Hmm.. Did you know that Andrew WK is one of Santos' four owners? Probably; you did. Ok. But could you name any of the other owners?

Does it matter? Well, not really. haha. But sometimes these sorts of little facts help establish a rapport with certain groups of people. Yeah, no matter what circle(s) you roll in, you're sorta expected to know who's who in the scene (whether we're talking about NYC clubs or SF non-profits).

In any case, SF and NYC cross paths once again..

You see, tomorrow night, the Jack Hanley Gallery, located on the northern-most (and up-coming-est) stretch of Valencia Street, is opening its doors from 6pm - 9pm to present to you, the public, the latest works from Spencer Sweeney, NYC-based (visual and performance) artist -- and co-owner of Santos.

(For your future reference -- and name-dropping pleasure -- the full list of owners of Santos Party House follows: Spencer Sweeney, Andrew WK, Larry Golden, and Ron Castellano.)

Spencer Sweeney @ Jack Hanley Gallery
September 20th - October 25th, 2008

Admittedly, I'm planning on stopping by somewhat for the scene (although why else go to any art opening?; the opening event is not a particularly good time to go to have an intimate dialog with the art itself). That said, the swirl of colors, and mix of (sloppy) geometry and modern-symbols-rendered-in-a-primitive-fashion, found in the pieces that I've seen online seem up my alley.

The work recalls Philip Guston and Basquiat, it recalls some Paul Klee and early Jackson Pollack in my mind. (ahem) I know the use of such HUGE artistic icons in my comparison betrays my lack of art knowledge; and I somewhat-apologize for their use. But, whatever; it's all I got off the top of my head. ;) Check the Jack Hanley site for his latest work, or, get your google on!

Besides, this Sweeney fellow seems like an interesting character. And Jack Hanley usually provides free beer at these sorts of shindigs.

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Alright, alright, so now that I've whetted you appetite for the visual scene here in SF, what else to do? Well, I think we're all in luck because this Fall is starting off with a bang..

Two artists of the (local) "Beautiful Losers" collective have shows up right now in the city. And while I'm NOT a fan of most "street art" -- to put a really generic term that covers what these guys do/make -- Shepard Fairey and Barry McGee have created iconic bodies of work, have created a signature style that you will surely recognize, even if you didn't know the artists' names. Check it (now, in a gallery setting):

Shepard Fairey @ White Walls Gallery
September 13th - October 4th, 2008

Barry McGee aka Twist, aka Ray Fong, and, now, aka Lydia Fong @ Ratio3 Gallery
September 15th - October 18th, 2008

Read about + see more of the work of Fairey and "Fong" here and here, respectively.

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And, well, this last bit is just a tease -- because we all just missed this show at Park Life, over in the Inner Richmond -- but, man, be on the lookout for more work by 22-year-old Matthew Palladino.

He captures gore and fantasy and folkart, wrapped up in tiger stripes and gang colors. In short, it's pretty cool.

Models in the middle of the street, bludgeoned

I've never been there, but, it seems, the Catharine Clark Gallery is calling me from its location down in SOMA (on Minna Street, near 3rd Street). Noone is literally calling me, of course. ;) But I just found out about a Timothy Cummings exhibit that opened there the other day; and I'm a fan of the guy's ghostly and iconographic work.

I first happened upon Mr. Cummings - that is, his paintings - at the Boomerang "screening & exhibition" a few months ago at John's Hayes Valley Market Gallery; and, there, I was enamored with his "androgynous subjects" and their "dark and brooding gazes"; I said as such at the time.

Since then, I found out that Timothy Cummings has been represented by the Catherine Clark Gallery since 1994 (though he's shown at many other galleries since then, like the Nancy Hoffman Gallery in NYC), so my attendance there is way overdue; this current show will be up until August 23rd so I've got a few weeks. Yeah, if you head over their yourself, I'd like to hear what you think of his pieces..

But in the meantime, find out a little more about the man; I found this interview at, um, Queerty..

The Totally Frightful Issue: Timothy Cummings
Interview with Andrew Belonsky
Published: Oct 20, 2006

Andrew Belonsky: There was a show at SITE Santa Fe a few years ago – I think it may have just been called “The Grotesque” – which was interesting to me not only because of the art, but because [it seems] the idea of “the grotesque” has reached new levels…

Timothy Cummings: I’ve always been inspired by [the grotesque]. I’ve always been sort of hot for gory fashion ads. Now it’s the norm. It’s not even an [issue]: of course the new ad campaign’s going to be your jeans and a couple hot models lying in the middle of the street, bludgeoned. It’s hot. I love it.

True that. haha.

Art with bicoastal connections

For all my yap-yap about exhibit-this and postmodern-that, I am totally, and completely, not part of any sort of "art scene" here in San Francisco (or anywhere, for that matter - haha). That said, I do have more than just a superficial interest in and appreciation for artistic endeavors of many stripes; in fact, I've written a few blog posts on the subject (labeled with "art").

But recently, it occurred to me that I've been focusing almost exclusively on big names showing at established museums or galleries, folks like Anselm Kiefer and Jeff Koons, and places like SFMOMA and the Met, respectively. And that's all well and good, for sure; I'll continue to indulge in those cultural touchstones of the craft because, well, number one: they are pleasing on a pure aesthetic level, and two: their wide recognition means they are part of a shared public consciousness that I'd like to be able to recall and submit at cocktail parties (and have someone else know what I'm talking about). haha.

Ok, ok..

Still, as I've implied, it's crossed my mind that I "need" to hit up smaller galleries, especially local ones.. to simply show up and take my chances on lesser-known artists, to meet some interesting folks with some of these similar interests (and, therefore, by necessity, to get over any hesitance about not fitting into a scene). On a side note, I find it funny that I'm much more comfortable showing up at, say, a NYC gallery opening than a San Francisco one (and I've been to many more in the former than in the latter) because, I think, that the NYC scene is so far from my normal reality that the whole endeavor becomes, almost, a slightly-abstracted performance, one where I've let go of any presumptions about who am I or who I need to be in that particular time and place; yeah, I think when I'm traveling, in general, I've got a "vacation mentality" going on. And que será será! haha.

But I digress..

This weekend, it seems, is a great time to get into "art" in San Francisco. You see, you'll have an opportunity on both Friday *and* Saturday to attend opening receptions for fresh new work at two different, and well-known, Mission district galleries, Ratio 3 and Jack Hanley. (Relating back to some of my comments above, both of these galleries have strong ties to NYC, so maybe such a bi-coastal relationship will put me at ease.. haha.)

First up, the Ratio 3 gallery is hosting Ryan McGinley's first "West Coast debut solo exhibition":

Ryan McGinley: Spring and By Summer Fall
May 9 - July 21, 2008
Opening: Friday May 9 (6–8pm)

From looking at some of his photography from the show online, they seem to be from the same stock as those featured in his last solo show, "I Know Where the Summer Goes", which just closed at Team Gallery in NYC. And I think this is a good thing.. Mr. McGinley's photography is well received (he's had many a'solo the world over, including being the youngest to show at The Whitney); there is a simple and nostalgic vibrancy to his work. I'm definitely going to this one.. although it should be noted that I can't imagine this being anything but a mobscene, given the artist involved and the fact that word is out. Part of the fun, I suppose. ;)

And if you haven't got your fill of the visual and the visceral yet, the Jack Hanley gallery is hosting an opening reception for New Zealand artist Saskia Leek on the very next night:

Saskia Leek: Thick Air Method
May 10 - 31, 2008
Opening: Saturday May 10 (6-9pm)

I, admittedly, know less about Ms. Leek and her pastel, angular paintings, but from what I've seen recently, I think it will be worth it to check out live. Regardless, Jack Hanley is known for its well-curated shows, so you can show up based on the gallery's reputation alone.. most people do just that. And if you're lucky, they'll have some free beer. ;)

In any case, I'll be out of town Saturday, so I'll miss this second bit of fun; but if any of you do check it out, let me know. (And if you'd like to see the McGinley show Friday night, let me know and we can coordinate.) Until then!

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Aah.. in the meantime, I can't resist saying one thing about a biggie: Mr. Koons currently has three of his bombastic sculptures up on the roof of the Met, showing through October 26, 2008. Whether you find his work charming or juvenile (or charmingly juvenile), the Met's rooftop garden should be a nice place to have a martini on a warm summer night in the city; the Met's martini bar is open 5:30–8:00pm on Fridays and Saturdays. Word.

In the Realms of the Palmsonntag

For those of you in the NYC area, outsider artist extraordinaire, Henry Darger, is risen (again)! A new show of his work opened today, posthumously, of course, at the American Folk Art Museum:

Dargerism: Contemporary Artists and Henry Darger

"The American Folk Art Museum is home to the single largest repository of works by one of the most significant artists of the twentieth century, Henry Darger (1892 - 1973), who created nearly three hundred watercolor and collage paintings to illustrate his epic masterpiece, The Story of the Vivian Girls, in what is Known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, which encompasses more than fifteen thousand pages."

Who knew?

This particular exhibit incorporates works from about a dozen contemporary artists who have made reference to Darger's naked-child-filled (and dreamycreepy) fantasy world of Abbiennia, to the creation of new worlds through shear force of the individual mind (of which we only glimpse timeslices through the artists' work). I wonder if all these artists made the conscious decision to echo some of the themes in Darger's work (life?), or if it was just coincidence? No matter, really (for a causal artfan - like myself). Outside of this show, Henry Darger has certainly been an explicit touchstone for many a creative folk; check out some of the pop culture references listed at his Wikipedia site: Natalie Merchant, Neil Gaiman and Sufjan Stevens, represent!

The general format of the show reminds me of the "Picasso and American Art" exhibit at the SFMOMA, early in 2007. I remember going to it with a friend and we both thought - I think we both thought this; maybe it was just me? - that it was a bit cold and clinical. That is, I found it super-interesting to see American art reflecting various Picasso works (in many a genre) over this huge time span - decades of Picasso production! - but the layout of the rooms at the SFMOMA left me without any emotional reaction to the art itself. In short, I found the curation lacking.

But getting back to the Henry Darger show at the American Folk Art Museum, I hold out hope for better selection and arrangement, and do want to check it out en vivo. In fact, I've wanted to see more of his work ever since I saw the 2004 documentary "In the Realms of the Unreal", which gave a glimpse of this odd man, his odd life and his odd obsessions. And since the show is up until September 21st, there's a pretty good chance I'll be able to make it happen (if I remember); I do my fair share of hanging in the Big City each year.

In other art-happening-in-notSF news, Anselm Kiefer has an installation called Palmsonntag up at the First Baptist Church in Los Angeles (in conjunction with a gallery showing of Kiefer's paintings, sculpture and collage at Gagosian Gallery in Beverly Hills). This too, I'd love to check out.

You see, my favorite show (ever!) at the SFMOMA since I started going regularly (say, 2004) has been "Anselm Kiefer: Heaven and Earth"; it was up late 2006.. (although I did enjoy the pomp and spectacle of the "Matthew Barney: Drawing Restraint" show too, also in 2006). Large scale works of (only semi-imagined) dystopian landscapes, crawling with unnatural biological vibration in a framework of environmental regularity: they crush my soul.. yet still, I would step right inside any one of them if I could. Like many people, I have an unnatural attraction to Kiefer's hypnotic paintings (truly - you can fall into them), which I guess is why he is one of the most well-known German artists alive today (internationally, speaking, that is).

Yeah, so.. two shows far away from me; but I thought my friends farther afield would like to know. If you do check either of them out, I'd love to hear your take. And if you don't (due to distance or desire or whatever), you've still got a few new arty things to say at your next cocktail party (yo). So, you're welcome either way. ;)

Get your art on, for free

Get your art on; many big art museums here in San Francisco sponsor free admission on the first Tuesday of each month. Today is such a day, as March is upon us!

What you think of one of these?:

- Asian Art Museum (map)

- Cartoon Art Museum (map)

- de Young Museum (map)

- Legion of Honor (map)

- Museum of Craft and Folk Art (map)

- San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (map)

- Yerba Buena Center Galleries (map)

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Bonus; the flowers be free too:

- Conservatory of Flowers (map)

Why don't you smell them?

Find yourself some Entertainment

It's been a pretty hectic day, huh? That's ok; your respite from reality has arrived and is ready for your viewing pleasure (if you are ready to receive it).

Free up 40 or so minutes of quiet time, time to breathe and to reflect, time to indulge in a bit of camp insanity - "camp" in the John Waters sense of the word - called "A Family Finds Entertainment" (2004), a piece of video art by Ryan Trecatin. If you can't make it over to Saatchi Gallery or the 12th Annual SF Underground Film Festival (in 2005) to see it live, check the viewing on YouTube, broken into five parts:

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8y5AxLiUqC8
Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MN4Kk42eOVk
Part 3: (broken; if you have the hookup, let me know)
Part 4: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObcDCDDJN8k
Part 5: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPwbkjwIsGw

What to think; what to think?

"I'm not sixteen anymore, but I feel like I'm 5, with sunglasses on."

I'm not sure myself yet. haha. But for some reason I want to watch it again; my first viewing - after getting over the fact that I wasn't following a/the storyline - was, basically, me indulging in Mr. Trecatin's cut-up and drugged-out world in somewhat of a meditative state.. just taking in the sounds and the sights as-they-were, and letting my subconscious mind make all the decisions with respect to my likes/dislikes/whatevers. At the least, I can say that approach felt more comfortable; there was no pressure to "understand".

Yeah, so given that I could not derive a traditional linear story out of the flickering images and buzzsaw audio (although I'm not saying there *is* a traditional linear story to be found there, even with translation), I read some text by critics more in-the-know than me to help explain the goin's-on.

First up, Cool Hunting gives it to us quick and dirty, identifying "nods to Jack Smith and very early John Waters", and then Film Brats fills in a lot of the behind-the-scenes details, including an interview with the artist himself about his overall creative process. The Saatchi gallery finally spills the beans and says that "A Family Finds Entertainment" "chronicles the story of mixed up teenager Skippy and his adventures in 'coming out'". I bet someone told them that because the scene is abstract, indeed.

In any case, Ryan Trecartin has done a few other pieces of sculptural and installation work since his 2004 debut, but my impression is that he is still most well known for his video art. In fact, the NYTimes invoked his latest "sensationally anarchic video", "I-Be Area" (2007), in an article earlier this year that discussed a resurgence of video art:

Video Art Thinks Big: That’s Showbiz
By Holland Cotter
Published: January 6, 2008

Attentions to and definitions of these art things - things of meaning or not? - ebb and flow over the years (and we seem to be in a period of, um, openness to flow), but besides that bit of human tendency towards the novel-yet-familiar, we've never had easier access to the medium, with video-on-demand enabled via highspeed internet, powerful portable viewing devices and other such technologic fun. Given these conditions, has video's time come?; and will it find a solid audience - and advocates - in the established art community?

But, really, it's been a long day, so pay no mind to those whirling questions of society. For now, my advice would be to simply get yourself a Family and find yourself some Entertainment. A friend of mine was so kind to set me down this path at the start of this past week and now I'd like to shared the mind-altering wealth with all of you. Salud!

Pictures flipped on a kaleidoscopic axis

About a week and a half ago (on the 16th), a Gilbert and George retrospective opened to the public at the de Young, its first stop on American soil. And since I had nothing in particular to do on that sunny Saturday morning, I walked from my apartment (after a blueberry pancake breakfast - look for a new recipe in a future post!), through the Park and over to the museum, to check out the works of these self-proclaimed "living sculptures".

Yes, the artists refer to *themselves* as "living sculptures" - more on that later - but the most notable works at this particular exhibition are very large-scale installations of their manipulated photography, sexually-charged pictures - these guys never shied away from a little nudity - flipped this way and that along many a kaleidoscopic axis; the colors seem to have been dragged through a bright, wet circus. The exhibition has its own website here, where you may check out a selection of the featured work.

Whether you like what you see online (or in print for that matter), those tiny mediums do not do the real installations justice. I'll admit that I'd never been a huge fan of Gilbert and George, but seeing these works live, taking up full, massive walls, was a sight to behold; most of the work is on the order of 10x13 feet and echoed large, vaguely religious icons (if your religious icons are also vaguely political and vaguely homosexual). haha.

Back to the living statue reference, the last room of the exhibit does have some paraphernalia from some of Gilbert and George's performance art over the years (a medium in which they initially made their names). For example, in one piece, Gilbert and George invited selected members of the art community to watch them eat a full, multi-course dinner as if there was no such audience; that was that. They would also extend their "act" - in explanation, anyway - to everything they do, from waking up and dressing to interacting in any public forum.

In this way, I suppose I saw a Gilbert and George original piece of performance art when the two gentlemen - live!, and in their requisite matching suits - walked through the exhibit (past me and others) at the de Young, casually chatting to themselves. I should say that I don't think the act was planned, part of a talk or "appearance" or anything; they didn't even seem to look up at the art (but I guess they are pretty familiar with their own work). Still, it was good timing on my part because it added a nice little gold star to the afternoon. It was especially funny because they use their own image in many of the works, so it was like they popped right off the wall (and became 20 years older, in some cases). Cool stuff.

By the way, the retrospective was curated by the folks at the Tate Modern in London, who posted a few short films of Gilbert and George talking about the exhibit itself, but also about their artistic process. Interesting stuff for those who want to learn more.

A Cornell, a Cummings, and a Newsom

It seems it's been a week for art.

Last Saturday, I *finally* got to check out the Joseph Cornell exhibit at the SFMOMA; good thing we made it happen this past weekend, because it closed the very next day. This retrospective was the last show in the current crop of exhibitions that I needed to check out; I had already seen the biggies of Olafur Eliasson and Jeff Wall at least twice, each. And it's odd I left Mr. Cornell to the last minute here because when I first saw a photo of his dreamy box construction, Untitled (Tilly Losch), I knew I would be into his stuff. His work is enchanting on many levels.

Actually, the curators amassed and displayed over 200 of Cornell's works, and this massive sum tired me out pretty quickly, even if most of them are physically very small; I was, therefore, only really able to give my full attention to the first couple of rooms. In that sense, I should have gone to see the show weeks ago, which would have given me time to return and return again, to tackle the pleasurable - if daunting - task of giving each thoughtful object its due. You see, his work is so detailed, so created (crafted?) from a myriad of everyday objects, that you can't help but be drawn into each piece's secretlife; and there, your mind - at least your subconscious mind - can be easily overwhelmed by such surroundings. What treasure to be found in each nook and cranny! Each piece demands a storytelling (are you man/woman enough?); and whimsy is encouraged.

On Tuesday night, I met a friend at John's Hayes Valley Market, that sometimes art gallery at the corner of Hayes and Laguna, for a group art show called Boomerang. In fact, we went there specifically for the opening reception and film screening; several films - 2 silent and 2 talkies, all reel-to-reel media - were part of the eclectic mix of works. Overall, it looked like a good crew in attendance, and I was glad that I made time to check out this gallery; I've walked by it so many times! As for the art, like most group shows (at least here in San Francisco), it was a mixed bag.. but curated tighter than most.

Two artists jumped out at me. The first, well.. I actually didn't catch their name (and so, I need to go back this weekend). But look for the colorful "X" and "V" drawings, framed and hung on the right wall as you walk in the entrance to the gallery. However, I was *really* enamored with the acrylic stylings of Timothy Cummings; he submitted a good 10 pieces to the show - most being around 10" x 12" and painted on paper or wood.

He framed his androgynous subjects icongraphicly, and captured them with dark and brooding gazes inspired in color and form by the Old Masters; the results were, in all cases, haunting (and I couldn't help but be mesmerized). Without a doubt, a rich and personal mythology simmered beneath the surface of each painting. I'll have to do more research on this talented - and self-taught - artist.

The very next night - last night - I bussed it over to the de Young Museum with a lovely date for SF Mayor Gavin Newsom's inauguration party.. such a random invite, but a most welcome one, indeed. Actually, I should clarify that *I* was a "+1", making me the tag along - I'd like to think "arm candy" - for the event (hey, I rocked some kickass silver cuff links for the occasion). haha. Not exactly a scene I usually roll with, but, that said, I certainly like to indulge in the trappings of all walks of life when I get the chance. And SF politics + free food + open bars + circus? + samba! + galleries all to yourself (and your date) = a pretty cool evening. Did I mention the open bars?

If you have access to Facebook, there are a couple of pretty good pictures posted of the event linked to my name. All I'll say right now is that you simply have to stand next to Mr. Newsom - and an arm around his back doesn't hurt - to find yourself with a fine tan; the pictures of this (former) whiteboy don't lie. Viva San Francisco! (And if you don't have access to Facebook and want to see the pics, let me know and we can hook it up.)

An approximation of insanity

I'm always interested when I come across - by reading, usually - folks developing "new forms of life", a topic that, without fail, sparks the imagination; for me, it has always been this way (as an incorrigible daydreamer). While I'd like to think that, over the years, my education and experience would allow me to cast more subtle molds around the subject.. I must admit that crazy animal hybrids are still the first things that come to mind when I hear the phrase "new forms of life". Liger, anyone? haha.

But then my (ahem) deeper intellect takes hold, and I think of the possibilities for maybe some less-extravagant flora and fauna; more specifically, my attention turns to transgenic organisms, in all their controversial, and financially-lucrative glory. In fact, Christmas is almost here and I've always wanted a GloFish®, or a bunch of cancer fighting tomatoes. Both would be great in a salad, I bet. But I digress..

It's rare when I'm blown away by something - especially something I read/see on the Internet, ha! - but I came across the work of Theo Jansen today, a man at the crossroads of art, engineering, and insanity (in a good way!). His creations, well, at first, shocked me, and then, they made me a little uncomfortable; finally, I settled into amazement. Mr. Jansen is best known as a kinetic sculptor, but that title doesn't do him justice; simple mobiles these are not.

From his website (transcribed sans typos):

"Since about ten years Theo Jansen is occupied with the making of a new nature. Not pollen or seeds but plastic yellow tubes are used as the basic material of this new nature. He makes skeletons which are able to walk on the wind. Eventually he wants to put these animals out in herds on the beaches, so they will live their own lives."

Behold his Strandbeests!

While nice as a teaser, a still photo of these massive, protoanimal devices should only be used to whet your appetite for watching videos of their incredible locomotion.. once they get going, that is. You see, the metabolism (I use the term loosely, in the spirit of the project) of most of the creatures is based on the wind; early ones used this energy source directly, turning beautiful sails or propellers that would then actuate their manifold legs, while later generations - who said evolution is dead? - have additional facilities to store this sort of energy for later use. Lemonade bottles never had such a glorious existence.

So, without further ado, check these videos (and if you're thinking about eating a brownie beforehand, then I would say to eat the brownie):

1. First, indulge in discovery. VIDEO #1!

2. Now, listen to Theo Jansen present several of his designs to an audience at a TED conference earlier this year; he talked about "The art of creating creatures". I will admit that occasionally he sounds like a madman, but his commitment to his ideas - and the ideas themselves - is/are fascinating. VIDEO #2!

3. Finally, watch more action of a Strandbeest on the beach - its natural habitat, of course - as it detects if/when it arrives at water's edge and reverses its direction, surely avoiding a dramatic and oceanic death. As you can imagine (or, as you heard, if you watched VIDEO #2 above), these lifeforms are very susceptible to drowning. VIDEO #3!

To see the Strandbeests in real life, get thyself to the Netherlands! Hmm.. it is tempting; you never know how one's travel plans with shake out. ;)

In any case, beyond the visceral amazement, knowing about this project - especially after hearing Mr. Jansen explain his (physical and philosophical) mechanisms - gets you thinking about what characterizes "life" itself. As I've alluded to, or, I guess, have said outright, hearing the artist say that he is developing "new forms of life" from plastic rods and lemonade bottles sounds fantastical at best, and (pleasantly) insane at worst. Still, let's keep in mind that definitions change all the time, as new information comes to light, or new ways of interpreting data are developed. Think about such debates surrounding viruses, prions, and other biological phenomena that straddle the boundaries of what it means to be alive. Pushing those boundaries further, Stephen Hawking once posited that "computer viruses should count as life"; needless to say, that comment caused quite a stir in the academic community.

But regardless of how you choose to define existence, what is *not* in question is the genius of the artist, the engineer, the man, Theo Jansen. And I hope he continues to evolve his Strandbeests so that one day he can realize his dream: to behold herds of them autonomously patrolling the beaches of his native Nederland. Wild!

Choosing the future at one hundred mph

I only have the barest knowledge of political systems in general, and even less for the particulars of any one country.. but, that said, I am (superficially) drawn to all news stories out of Russia, especially when they deal with the consolidation of power in the Kremlin (by the manliest world leader, Владимир Владимирович Путин).

Yeah, this week's parliamentary elections only solidified their position; Mr. Putin's party, United Russia, has enough seats now to amend the Constitution if they so desire. Interesting times, indeed.

But a report from the NYTimes over the weekend really caught my eye. Beyond tightening their grip on general media outlets, like newspapers and television stations (standard stuff, of course), it seems that they're now going as far as censoring contemporary art in various forms. For example, the Russian culture minister censored a state-sponsored show of Russian contemporary art in Paris a few weeks ago (as part of France's A Year of Russia); 17 of the works were deemed to be a "shame on Russia" and removed from the collection. Read the details, and find more examples, at the NYTimes:

Putin’s Last Realm to Conquer: Russian Culture
by Michael Kimmelman
Published: December 1, 2007

Still, there seems to be *some* backlash by the art community. In fact, the Tretyakov Gallery - the ones who put the show together, including the ultimately-censored works - filed a lawsuit against Culture and Press Minister Alexander Sokolov on November 20th, 2007. The court system in Russia - again, something I really don't know that much about - has a reputation for bending to the will of the executive administration, so we'll see where that goes.

If any of you come across any follow-up news for this story, let me know. And I'll do the same. By the way, I'd recommend checking out the "Multimedia" part of the article above; it's a little tangential to the main story, but it gives some context for the high life in Moscow. Russia is "choosing the future, it seems, at a hundred miles per hour." And we'd be best to pay attention. ;)

The secondary and tertiary effects of art

Looks like even folks at The Economist enjoy a little art exhibition now and again. And their latest trip took them to San Francisco to check out the Olafur Eliasson retrospective at the SFMOMA.

Spinning tops and frozen cars
October 4th, 2007; From The Economist print edition

While I haven't been back to the museum to reimmerse myself in the main Eliasson exhibition space on the 5th floor yet (as I said I would), I did roll through last weekend to check out his contribution to the BMW art car project on the second floor. It is no lie: the body of the BMV H2R hyrogen-powered car is made of ice; and you can get right up in its refrigerated home, but be sure to grab a blanket or two on your way in. And so, while there is a message here about automobiles and how we fuel them (and repercussions for our environment), this work follows Eliasson's usual directive, "I make art that creates an experience, not a representation." Here, the work is memorable; even if, at first, you only remember how cold it was - and it is! - hopefully that experience sparks at least a subconscious reaction (conscious would be better, of course) to connect the current implementation of our cars (and transportation at large if you really want to get into it) and it's secondary and tertiary effects.

Get a taste - via video - of Eliasson's powerful use of ice (2 tons of it!) here. But you really should experience San Francisco's newest (and most frozenest!) microclimate for yourself; it runs through January 18th, 2007, before moving on to New York, Dallas and Sydney.

On a separate, but related note, I didn't realize it until reading The Economist article, but Eliasson was also responsible for The Weather Project installation (aka the "big sun") at the Tate Moden a few years back. I happened to be in London at the time, and all I can say is: "Dope". I've read some conflicted things online, but does anyone know if it is still up?

A "word of caution" is in order

I reread the previous entry and I think I should have introduced it with a "disclaimer" or "word of caution". You see, the entry contains an inordinate amount of words in quotes, not to cite someone else's "work", but to indicate that these words are being used with a "fuzzy" (for sure) or "novel" (I wish) definition; picture me "winking" at you when saying those words aloud.

It is totally "reasonable" to use quotes in this manner, but somehow I feel they - with "overuse" in a particular piece - can be an easy way out from explaining yourself properly as a writer, and, as a result, shifting the responsibility for "getting it" a bit too far towards the "reader". Ultimately, these devices can become a "handicap" for the real transfer of ideas. So, maybe I'll revisit that last post at some point in the "future", as a "real writer", and fill in the (implied) blanks. ;)

Until then, "salud"!

Artists under control

Over an early breakfast this past Sunday, a friend mentioned to me that he didn't understand how some "artists" can think of an idea for "art purposes", have others actually produce a piece based on it (ex. do the actual painting or drawing), and still have all artistic credit go to the original "artist".. and not the person or persons who did the implementation. At this point I should mention - if you did not know this already - that I have no formal art background and approach the subject of art as an outside (but semi-educated) observer (and, um, "fan"). ;)

My first response was basically to say that your perspective on the matter comes down to your definition of art in general, and, by corollary and for the specific case my friend was talking about, painting too. Is art the "thing" or the "idea" behind it? Or something else altogether?

Most people's concept of art, at least at first (and, many times, forever), is that of a static object: a drawing, a painting, a sculpture, or perhaps even a piece of jewelry. Certainly this concept of art being a "thing" is classic, proletariat, and, perhaps, the most primal function we can subscribe to. So, if it's not exactly how I would think about "art" *in my bones* (or genes), it certainly is how I think about it per my original social conditioning. And, for sure, it is a good place to start your exploration of the subject.

But even though I do like the ability to own and "control" an actual piece of art (craft and beyond!), I can also appreciate an expanded definition - one that includes higher levels of abstraction or episodic action, however ephemeral or bidirectional (from artist to viewer and back, onwards and onwards).

But before we get into semantics or wordworkings-of-layered-design, why don't we see if there is historical precedence relevant to my friend's observation that started this discussion? That is, are there other well-established artists who did not actually "construct" all their work? I believe that there are plenty, but a few come to mind immediately:

Jeff Koons
Damien Hirst
Thomas Kinkaid

And a few from further back in time:

Duccio
Rembrandt
Michelangelo

Do you consider these people artists (before you read this anyway)? You probably have to say yes. Did you know that other people produced many of their most famous works (even as the artist designed them fully)? If you say no, then you have to ask yourself if you still consider these people artists. But if you say yes (or, you said no, but still consider these folks artists), then we do have some historical precedence for the phenomena.

As such, an expanded definition of art would include the possibility of one putting forth an "artistic idea", no matter how it is implemented, and still be recognized by the public as the artist in the equation. And I don't think we can stop there; the concentric circles of recognition (for art) have accelerated their rate of inclusion in the last 150 years (vs. the prior few millennium of human existence); there is much more to be had (and be defined)! For example, art also considers context: environmental and temporal (and fashionable) conditions. However, I think that discussion is beyond the initial query (and, for now, my attention span).

But before we call it a day, we could also consider if an artist can contribute anything else to a piece, besides "just" the idea (that they have not implemented themselves). Given there is a need to finance artistic creation, we should also think about the artist's place in the market. In this way, they can also be providing a commercial outlet for the work; that is, a network of people that know and (hopefully) appreciate the artist - and are willing to pay a premium for something with their name on it (over a lesser-known compatriot).

And what do the people making the art pieces get out of it? Is it only for the money? I would think that for some, yes, it is only a matter of money, but there are plenty of intangibles to be gained from this sort of relationship (at the sacrifice of personal fame - if only temporarily). There is the chance to hone skills, be exposed to new ideas, and, perhaps most importantly, meet the gallery dealer of your dreams.. or, at least, the gallery dealer's assistant.

A funhouse became a madhouse

This past Wednesday night I went to the Olafur Eliasson opening at SFMOMA for his new show: "Take your time", which was a title that proved incredibly accurate given the crowds. He had turned the fifth floor into a tight funhouse for cultured adults, complete with mirrored platforms, clanking floorboards and highly-textured walls. There was also a hydrogen-powered car with a body made out of ice: look, but don't touch; blankets were provided for a viewing if you had forgotten your mink stole.

All his work - here, anyway - is very experiential (for the viewer) insofar as it plays with your senses and, consequently, your perception(s) of the world in a very direct manner. Get inside a kaleidoscope; look out (and then inwards)! Bathe yourself in colored light; that's not how I remember you! Stomp the floor; make noise enough for the walls to dance! And so on.. nothing to blow your mind or anything, but certainly a nice way to spend some time.

As I mentioned, the funhouse became a madhouse in which to make your way slowly (even if you wanted otherwise) on the opening night. This was surprising since I got there at 7:15pm or so for the Upper Level preview, before they let in the general member riff-raff at 8. ;) Eliasson's installations are in such tiny spaces and the layout of the 5th floor (where most of them are housed) was somewhat claustrophobic; I had never seen so many walls up in the museum. Still, I definitely want to go back on a quieter day; I'm sure it would make for a much different experience, a different experience in an attempt at an alternate reality.

But while I *was* there, I absconded away to see some other areas of the museum that were being totally neglected; and so, I had them almost all to myself. Specifically, I walked through part of the permanent collection on the 3rd floor and ended up sitting down on a bench in front of a large Rothko (No. 14, 1960). You could make out the din of the culturati in the background, but even that noise could fade if you let yourself be, you let yourself breathe. Actually, it was almost like chilling out in someone's quiet bedroom during a loud party.. that is, if you were at a party with multi-million dollar paintings on the walls. Well..

If you do go to these sorts of social gatherings, please invite me next time.

(ahem)

As for this party, nee art opening, at SFMOMA, it was a good scene in which to socialize, but not really to check out the art. In short, it was like most art openings.. which is totally cool; adjust your expectations accordingly (if you haven't been to many art openings). I like the idea of the art just being there and, on some level, just an excuse to get all these folks together. Of course, I hope there is some substance behind the works, given all the money involved at this particular institution, but for the first night anyway, that sort of thing is besides the point. ;) Like I said, the fact that I didn't really get to experience the installations in a way I would want to (on some sort of quasi-intellectual level) is a good excuse to go back. See you there!

Ready for, and in control of, total darkness

As of yesterday, I'm a new man.

Yeah, I know you've heard that one before, but I'm a new man with drapes, or, I guess, with curtain panels; either way, I own a set of opaque indulgences, hung, and, um, ready for action.. though it makes me wonder who or what I'm hiding from, behind this new and heavy and Jacobean fabric. I, of course, remember quickly enough: I've been forever trying to escape from the light.. that is, when I'm trying to sleep (and nothing more sinister than that). You see, I am surely sensitive to the sun in both positive and negative ways.

The thin blinds that have been on the windows in my room reduce the light coming in, but when it's daytime, you know it's daytime; it can still be somewhat bright. And, as such, a quality 8 hours of sleep often eludes me, unless I've gone to bed at 9 or 10pm - a rare occurrence, especially when I'm enjoying the nighttime vices of the city. It's not that I can't sleep "in the daytime" when I'm tired, it's just that it needs to be completely dark in the space where I'm trying to do so.

For example, last time I went to the Art Basel and NADA art fairs in Miami - yikes, it's been a couple years now! - I got awesome sleep, even as we would go to bed with the sun fully up and folks already heading to the beach for a morning tanning session. The drapes on the large windows at our hotel blocked 99% of the sun coming in; and with the digital clock turned down, flat on its face - another (minor) source of light begone! - you *really* lost all sense of time. Waking up at 8am, noon, or (in this case) 4pm: they are basically all the same time of day from the perspective of your body.. an hour in which you wake up fully rested. A new day of art and inebriation (and skinny-dipping) is upon you!

So it seems that with my latest apartment upgrade, I'm fully in control of my waking life here in San Francisco, insofar as it is affected by the amount of sleep that I get on a daily basis. You see, my new curtains can be closed and my bedroom made ironclad against photonic attack. And if last night's 10 hours of blissful unconsciousness is any indication of future success, I'd say things are looking, well, bright.

Suprises beyond the master

The "Matisse: Painter as Sculptor" exhibit at the SFMOMA (ongoing until September 13th) just didn't do it for me. But I should say upfront that I'm not a *huge* Matisse fan to being with - in his more well known role as a painter, or otherwise. The weekend crowds (relatively-speaking, anyway) and hubbub didn't help (for this type of show; when I'm in the mood, I sure do like a crazy opening).

That said, I thought it *was* a well-put-together exhibition in an academic sense: thorough and researched, this was sure and apparent. Sculptural works - mostly from Matisse, but a few from other related artists - were placed among a multitude of related artistic devices in all manner of media; commentary by the curator(s) abounded (scripted - on the walls, or sonant - in your ears). The scope of his work, in form, in interval, and in occasion, reminded me of my ignorance of art history. The man was surely a huge and important figure, pushing modern art boundaries at the start of the century.

But, again, it wasn't for me. In short, I could appreciate the care and the positioning of the works, but the whole didn't hit me on a pure enjoyment level (which is where I usually need art to hit me, given my aforementioned lack of edumacation). Actually, in this way, the show reminded me of the Picasso exhibit they had up a few months ago.

Still, there were some unexpected surprises.

I would say to check out the Felix Schramm installations on the same floor (good thing they were on the same floor or else I probably wouldn't have seen them; you know how I only like to visit one floor of a museum at a time!). They struck me in sort of the same way as the Richard Serra pieces at the MOMA in New York City insofar that they play with (i.e. fuck with) your sense of space and personal balance, albeit in a much different medium. Both created pieces that made me slightly uncomfortable on a very primal level (at first, but then, of course, you snap back to the fact that you're in a sterile and eminently safe museum setting - haha); the walls are broken and they are falling in! For the most part, he uses typical and thoroughly modern (i.e. "disposable") building materials, drywall and 2x4's and so forth; this was actually more refreshing than seeing something done with a more "permanent" medium (ex. rock or steel or lead). And, in whole, the installations seemed to be timely: images of the destruction of our houses and infrastructure made out of this stuff stuff (i.e. via war, via hurricane, etc.) are everywhere, left and right. Our land - but moreso "someone else's" land - is topsy and turvy, broken and twisted.

I would also direct you to the projection-based work of Anthony McCall, "You and I, Horizontal"; find it at the top of the 4th floor stairs (as if there was any doubt now); walk straight ahead. It certainly was the most playful work I've come into contact with in awhile (although that might change with the upcoming Olafur Eliasson exhibition this coming month). I won't spoil the experience, but suffice to say that the room is dark (go in; go in!), and the experience is hypnotizing (if you let it be). It was fun to see a bunch of random folks chillin' on the floor; others were trying to catch or manipulate the lights beams as they crossed the room. It still makes me smile to think about it; the sculpture is made out of "nothing". I'm not sure the scene was what the artist had in mind, but sometimes these things develop in unexpected ways.. and that must be pleasing: your art is alive and subject to the swish and sway of the wild!