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A Look at Bushwick

A Look at Bushwick (Bogart St)

Memorial Day Weekend put a damper on my Bushwick gallery trek, as most places marked themselves “closed for the holiday”, but I managed catch up with some galleries I’d stepped in before. After trekking up and down Morgan Ave and Knickerbocker, trying to find an open gallery (there weren’t any, darn you Luhring Augustine), I headed back to Bogart for a second look at the galleries from my previous visit.

Momenta Art

Momenta had my favorite art pieces from the last visit and, after this visit, still holds that first spot on my favorite list with Justin Randolph Thompson’s Moldy Figs. Having studied music and art throughout my collection, I can’t not love sound installations, especially when one is so fantastically presented. Set up in a carnival style, Thompson’s red-curtained sculptural installation featured several different stations of instruments, boxes, record album covers, clothing, and even a hanging chandelier. Sounding throughout the room was a classical jazz piece that called-and-responded through several sections. Trust me: It was very cool.

Honey Ramka

Around the corner from Momenta is Honey Ramka which I can always count on for the oddest, but most memorable pieces that I’ve ever seen. Doll-like sculptures presented on pedestals dot the open space while large paintings, all done by different artists frame the walls around them. It was a little bizarre, a little disturbing, and the title Puppet Panic was completely apt. Well done Paul Bergeron, Katrina Fimmel, Jason Reyen, and Ana Wieder-Blank.

Beyond the gallerist’s desk is another small show, Abscissas and Ordinates featuring artists Lars van Dooren and John O’Connor, which though less bizarre, holds the same frenetic energy as the rest of the exhibition displayed. The chaos inspired “patterned complexes or hyper-mediated data sets” led to very interesting painting and print pieces.

Slag Contemporary

Across the hall, in another wood-paneled floor and open-spaced room is Slag. Today’s exhibition, RITES,  featured artists Tirtzah Bassel and Dumitru Gorzo. Slag is definitely right to showcase these two artists together. Together their art just fits without over-shadowing one or the other. If I had the money, I’d buy a piece from each artist and display them together. It works.

One of my favorite pieces from Bassel featured a giant painted rendition of a woman parsing through a rack of red dress (all the same). In the background stands the markings of a shopping mall. Another woman wearing a very similar outfit to the woman in the foreground makes her way down the stairs, presumably to toward the same rack of red dresses.

Another favorite, from Gorzo, displays two figures— female and male. They stand together, their hollowed out eyes staring at something beyond the frame. Above them broad multi-colored strokes rain dripping paint which smudges into puddles underneath their feet. It’s eery. It’s beautiful.

—

Making my way through these galleries, I didn’t feel as if any one exhibition couldn’t have been viewed in a Chelsea Gallery. (But then, again I don’t decide those things.)In fact with their white walls and neutral floors, the spaces didn’t even feel that different. Outside, yes, it just looks like another empty factory building but still do a lot of Chelsea gallery spaces. If it hadn’t been for the 45 minute trek from Manhattan, it would have been like I hadn’t left at all.

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A Look at Bennington

A Look at Bennington (Eva Respini)

Last week we made our way back up to Vermont, to the quaint, picturesque hills of Bennington. It was a healthy break from New York. My lungs exchanged the scents of dog urine, car exhaust and city smog for lilacs, grass, and mountain air. Instead of New York architecture, my eye got to take in Vermont’s green mountainous nubs. It was good to be back for the day.

Before her VALS lecture, we sat down with Eva Respini on Tishman’s balcony, taking advantage of the good weather and the site of a nesting turtle. Respini recently ended 14 years at MOMA to take over as the chief curator of the ICA in Boston. The ICA is a big change from MOMA; smaller with less resources but more flexibility than MOMA.

Respini was really open with us. Coming from a non-artistic background, she studied art history and comparative literature in her university years. It was refreshing to talk with someone who never thought of herself as a practicing artist. She began her foray into the art world by working as a front desk girl at a gallery then moved on to become a junior curator at MOMA. Respini is of a generation of people who could work their way up the ladder rungs of promotion, and eventually found herself as curator in the Department of Photography. Most people consider MOMA to be the pinnacle of their careers, having succeeded in the best of the best. Respini, having gotten to the top and wanting something different, decided to make a different move: leaving for the ICA. Though she hasn’t been at the ICA long (about two months), Respini is looking forward to a fresh new look at the world she’s been in for the past two decades.

Respini had a lot to say about what it takes to join the path to a job at an art institution. One of those steps is a Master’s degree, which is a common theme we’ve heard all term. Another is to decide for ourselves where we really want to be. There’s a huge difference between larger institutions like MOMA, and smaller ones like the ICA. More resources, more money, more prestige but less flexibility, less career maneuverability, and less ability to respond to present happenings. These are great things to ponder on, and will hopefully help me guide my own future.

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A Look at Philadelphia

A Look at Philadelphia

Last Wednesday we made our way down south to the city of Brotherly Love. Our first stop was the Barnes with curtesy tickets extended to us by a friend of Liz. The concept of the Barnes reminds me heavily of the Frick. Only the Frick did not have as many Renoirs and Cezannes. The same concept of private collection, strict rules, and personal taste.

We were told that there was some controversy about moving the Barnes into the city. While I’m sure it was fine being away from the general hubbub or the city, I don’t think it would have lasted very long, especially if the foundation wasn’t making enough money to maintain the collection properly. Then the art would go to waste and then the Barnes collection would no longer exist. Another professor of ours said that it looks exactly the same as the old building so, other than the location, nothing was really lost. Honestly, I think Barnes would have rather had his collection seen than unseen. Isn’t that the point of art anyway? To be viewed by other people? Art shouldn’t be an elitist thing.

The one caveat with viewing private art collections is that you are completely at the whims of personal taste, and not viewing the result of a carefully curated rooms. Yes, Barnes (according to that educational propaganda video) did spend a really long time placing things in certain ways to make his viewers think about relationships. The metalwork, smaller painting, then bigger painting, then random art stuff formula works. The mishmash of eras and painting styles is interesting.

Barnes has so many pieces that I honestly would have never connected them to be in the Barnes, I would have expected them to be in a huge rather well known museum rather than some private collectors home. He really got some great stuff.

There was a Degas (not a dancing girl!) that I really enjoyed though it was eery.  It was kind of suggestive. Creepy. Voyeauristic. Further research suggests it to either  “Interior” or “The Rape”.

After a quick food break, we walked over to The Philadelphia Museum of Art and the famous Rocky sculpture (which used to be at the top of the iconic stairs but was relegated to the bottom and off to the side as it was deemed “not art” by the museum). The PMA is huge and architectural beautiful and really, really hip. Like apparently you can do yoga in the galleries, hip.

We started with the PMA’s really amazing Outsider Art exhibit, which had some pretty amazing things. The rest of the museum (a quick walk through some spaces) held a lot of cool things. The famed Duchamp pieces were there including Etant Donnes, which was so beautiful to see through the provided peepholes. I wish we had had more time to explore the museum because the things we did get to see were awesome. Looks like my summer will include a bus trip up from DC for a longer pause in the museum.

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And Yet Another Look at the LES

Last Wednesday, we made our way back to the Bowery. Our destination: New Inc. Behind a heavy door attached to the New Museum and several keycard checkpoints exists the home of the New Museum led collaborative incubator. New Inc’s goals includes a creating a think-space to generate ideas and encourage the New York creative community. The feel of the space is very New Museum/Google start-up, all glass rooms and shiny white furniture and Mac computers and a work-space bar with accompanying stools.

There we met up with Bennington alum Lindsay Howard, who like our internet-art thesis friend from the previous week, is very interested in the digital art world and creating a feasible market for it. Can you buy digital art, an otherwise non-tangible media? Can you own a website as art? How about a Youtube video?

The answer is yes.

The art market has adapted to encompass this new wonderful part of it. It’s also an interesting way for artists to have more control over their artwork. It doesn’t just go to the buyer to never be seen again until it shows up at an auction. It can still be seen by the public and still generate more value, some simply by the increasing number of views. It’s incredible to think about.

Artists set their own terms in what the buyer owning the art actually means. Some gift the buyer with a physical object such as a customized flash drive. Others add the owner’s name to the web address bar. While it will continue to exist online, the buyer owns the art.

Though digital art certainly still has its critics, it’s not going anywhere and the market for it is certainly growing.

Artists Alliance/Cuchifritos Gallery/Essex Market

Artists Alliance is a non-profit dedicated to supporting emerging contemporary artists. The organization offers studio space, residencies, and also runs a gallery, Cuchifritos, located Essex Market. It has also initiated a cool project where artists take over empty stalls in the market and implement some kind of pop-up art exhibition.

The Artist Alliance space is located in what used to be a school. It’s creaking floors and ragged walls are now dedicated to creative work: artist studios, a gallery, theaters, and the remnants of past art exhibitions.

Cuchifritos in Essex Market

Down the street from Artists Alliance is Essex Market. Inside of Essex Market is Cuchifritos Gallery. Located at the end of the gallery behind glass doors  is Jules Gimbrone’s exhibition for Threshing Floors.

The moving soundtrack beneath and around the installed pieces. A bench that you can feel free to sit on. It's very tactile tease of the senses.

Essex Market Inside of Essex Mart is proof that art does exist in the everyday world and that an exhibition/gallery space can certainly be a food stall. The idea of a gallery space existing alongside of tea and cookies and canned beans is pretty awesome.

The artists exhibiting in the stalls were prompted to create something that people would not take. One artist presented lots of things glued down. Another offered just a peek inside a curtained out space held apart by a couple of large bricks.

It shows that art doesn't have to be this huge, deep meaningful thing but something simple enough to exist in between the stalls of a market but complex enough to draw a few minutes attention away from grocery shopping.

It's nice to think that someone who doesn't go to galleries or art museums or even think of art in this way will see art in some new way.

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Another Look at the LES

Two weeks ago we met with Bennington alum, Erik recently graduated from MICA with a masters in critical studies. His thesis on internet art sounds pretty interesting, but that could be because I spend way too much time viewing art and not-art online.

Lehmann Maupin Gallery

Then we headed to Lehmann Maupin’s Chrystie Street location for a bit of behind the scenes action with one of the sales associates. Most of the lighting had been muted in order for a photographer to take some media photos. Opening that night was Tony Oursler’s exhibition. His use of facial recognition in his work reminds me of that one app that can turn you into a virtual avatar. Being able to see the cuts of the work, the circuitry and wiring and bolts really opened up his pieces.

Along with our quick peek of the work, our gallery guide left us aspiring art world workers with some good words. Having been to many galleries and talked to a lot of people, it was nice to see how different aspects of the same world can still have differing ideas of the same thing.

After Lehmann Maupin, it was off to see more gallery spaces. One place in particular, exhibiting work by Carolee Schneemann work, really stood out. One: The walls weren’t painted white. Two: the gallery person talked to us. Gushed to us. (She also knew where Bennington is so check-plus).

Bitforms

Bitforms had one of the strangest video art pieces I’d ever seen. Jonathan Monaghan’s Escape Pod has forever been burned into my memory. Though I’m not sure if I like the art; I wouldn’t buy it for sure, it was definitely captivating. In standing there staring at the two video works, which were edging on that line between tasteful and racy, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

I really wondered about the placement of that one tv though. I wanted it mounted on a wall, especially since slightly slumping with my gaze averted downward for twenty minutes did not help my already terrible posture. But maybe that's a point for the strange but oh-so captivating video art. I kept watching through my discomfort.

I could definitely see Monaghan’s work being displayed in some liberal corporate space’s lobby waiting room. It’s strange enough to keep people watching. (Or at least me and those other tourists staring for the full length run)

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Another Look at SOHO

LMCC: Erica Magrey

Dressed as if she’s been transported in a time machine from the ’90’s, Erica Magrey gave us some time to talk and a tour around the LMCC artist residency 2014-2015 space. It used to be an FBI evidence storage facility. One the door leading into the space, only the B and I remain of the old FBI sign. Though the storage bins where the evidence was kept are gone, left behind is a huge open space that meanders its way across the building floor. The ceilings and flooring are unfinished, ductwork and piping revealing itself in much of the space. All of the artists have carved out their own studios, some adding couches and carpeting or changing their lighting. LMCC takes on writers as well as artists, a few of whom sat on their comfy seating typing away throughout our visit.

I am immediately in love with her work.The pastels Magrey employs in her most of her work reminds me of a couch my parents had when I was a kid. Nostalgia for the days of youth is one her themes. In one piece, commissioned for the New Hive site, Magrey created interactive webpages with videos of women presenting objects as if advertising them. It’s funky and playful and oh-so-hard to look away from.

Magrey obviously enjoys what she does and her ability to connect her artwork with her past leaves a universal nostalgia for lives passed and unlived.  Whether I’m transported to the land of Teen Vogue and ‘90s clothing from Goodwill or to self-directed character building, Erica Magrey’s work displays a playful depth, one that reaches beyond the shades of pastel.

Artist Space: Hito Steyerl

Steyerl’s work is strangely captivating. Though certain scenes when isolated from their surrounding content might be mundane and boring, all together they provide an exciting look into how Steyerl works. (It must be the editing.) I honestly could have sat and watched each video for much long than we actually stayed. Each work had its own curated space. A video work focused on a plane, Free Fall, had several luxury first-class plane seats for seating. Another video work about the water, Liquidity Inc, offer cushions one a half-pipe wave looking structure. All the videos were visually engaging in a way that I didn’t get tired sitting for ten to fifteen minutes watching them.



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A  Look At Upstate

Storm King: Upstate’s Very Own Outdoor Sculpture Amusement Park

On our way back from Bennington, we made a stop at Storm King Art Center. Set up very much like an outdoor sculpture amusement park, the Art Center lies in the shadow of Storm King Mountain. The day we went was a bit dreary; the skies gray and a chilly bite to the wind. Instead of trekking out on foot across the sprawling 500 acres, we opted for a voice-guided tram ride.

Once seated, off we went through the vehicle accessible parts of the park. Most of the visible landscape was dotted with Mark di Suvero’s towering sculptures in iron, earth and red. Their placement left all to bask in their own presence rather than overwhelming each other or other surrounding pieces.

Another amazing piece was Andy Goldsworthy’s One Wall which snaked its way across the fields and then dipped into the pond and continued into the treelike on the other side. Set in the style of old English walls, it added an eery old world charm to the area it surrounded.

One of my favorite pieces, George Cutts’s Sea Change, gives the illusion of swaying gently in the wind or perhaps waves tossed by the sea. Upon closer inspection, the rhythmic movement is more evident of a hidden motor, but the graceful illusion remains the same.

Storm King is a place of wonder, hidden in the hills of upstate New York. It’s certainly a place that requires hours a time, good weather, and strong walking feet. I’ll definitely be back with a hope of having all three.

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A Look at the Lower East Side

The Storefront for Art and Architecture 

The Storefront for Art and Architecture has now inserted itself on my list of favorite surprises discovered on the Lower East Side. Settled across the street from La Esquina on the corner of Kenmare St, The Storefront looks more like a giant grey paneled concrete ship than the opening for an artist gallery. It’s definitely the kind of place that makes itself known that it caters to artists and architects, which means if you haven’t heard about Steven Holl, the architect, then maybe you’ve heard of  Vito Acconci, the artist partnered with him for the awesome building design.

Step into the space and you’re met with something not expected. Projected on a screen in the far corner of the building so as to block out as much light as possible, Amie Siegel’s The Architects provides crisp, roaming images of office environments over the ever present sounds of the street just outside. The play on outside-inside spaces, while it can be an over-played theme, works extremely well in the space. It lends itself to it with its triangle-shaped build.

Because the panels are moveable, the place is definitely more function than it seems to be. It can be transformed into almost anything an artist or architect can think of. With less than ten people on staff, its a guarantee that everyone gets their hands in everything. As a small space, The Storefront sheds the burdens of bigger institutions, including having a shorter turn-over period for exhibitions and the ability to acquire artists they can really devote time and space to. While that space might not be as large as other galleries, it lends itself to innovated ideas and isn’t afraid to take risks.

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A Look at Queens

MOMI

Stepping into the Museum of the Moving Image reminded me very much of Seattle's Experience Music Project, which though larger is built on a similar premise of providing not so much a museum but an experiential, contemporary, and relevant institution to serves its constituents. MOMI hit all the positive factor of the Participatory Museum list. There was something for everyone: several interactive components (video games, several make-your-own things), a brief history of the institution, a brief object history of film and television, a conceptual projection piece in the lobby, and the new Mad Men exhibit a few floors up. According to my NYU friends who frequent the place regularly for free movie screenings, the showings are pretty spectacular too.

Its clear from the beginning that MOMI is not an ART museum in the traditional sense. There aren’t a series of film and video installation littering the museum floor, trying hard to appeal to everyone. There isn’t a sense of  old-world art and the awe that comes with it. On the other hand its not really a history museum either. Though there is a collection of century old film apparatus, film and video and television is still so very young in comparison to other media. Its in an odd museum hybrid in an area that doesn’t really understand what its place is.  According to the director mentioned is a caveat for funding but an advantage when it comes to autonomy.

Another thing that is clear about MOMI is is devotion to the community. The museum prioritizes mobilizing outside of the museum, around Queens, and using public programming to create unique programs for the diverse populace that lives there. MOMI wants to gain their trust and wants to see them utilize the museum, because that’s why its there: as a cultural institution for the people.

Unlike a lot of New York institutions MOMI does not have to cave to the demands of controlling board members. It’s not forced to put up exhibits it might not like to appease the ones holding the funding pockets. But it also means having  smaller budget to work with than a lot of cultural institutions in New York, who don’t really know how to place MOMI either. And those that would seem the most likely to want to sit on the board of the museum, don’t. The film directors, the television producers, the actors; none of them want to move their own financial influence on a place they don’t really consider to be in the league of MOMA or the Met. (Though if one wants to sit on MOMI’s board and decide to have a strong input into how the museum should run, they would be very, very welcome.) It’s a fascinating conundrum in the world of cultural institutions that doesn’t just affect MOMI but quite a few of the institutions in New York that don’t seemingly have status backing.

While maybe MOMI isn’t getting as much funding as they probably need or want, from a visitor aspect, I enjoyed myself. I was challenged to a video game match that I lost. I admired some truly geeky star trek models. I got to study the kitchen set-up of one of the Mad Men kitchens. I will probably be back to see an actual screening. In it’s hybrid museum world, MOMI gets to say it’s not just an art museum, which lends itself to its most advantageous trait: it really has something for everyone.

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“Inside the White Cube” (a briefing)

“Context becomes content.” In the emergence of the “white cube” gallery spaces of today, O’Doherty argues that while it’s the natural progression for art display, it’s not necessarily free of its own constructs. The carefully crafted spaces of the modern art gallery, big or small, do its best to sever the viewer’s connection of the outside world and force them into a “neutral” space in which to view the art. The “white cube” assumes itself free of context, masquerading as a container for art pieces to be solely engaging in their own right. O’Doherty argues that the gallery space creates its own context, one that forces itself upon the art and in some cases, overwhelms it. Because the gallery operates as a small shop, one that presses its viewers to not only see the art, but to buy it, the space operates outside of a neutral environment.  It keeps the outside world (and pressures) out while promoting an inside culture (and economy). The space commands certain conventions and, in a lot of cases, invokes images of certain types of people to patronize it. Likening the gallery to a tomb, O’Doherty further expounds that the gallery can be perceived as a place of timelessness where art becomes the happened-upon entombed treasure. This is unlike any other art showing space, such as a home (which has certain other engagements: furniture, individual style/placement, people) or a museum (which creates it own context for its pieces in a namely curated space).

While I found O-Doherty’s arguments engaging, I wonder what he would write about the progressing of the white cube from its modern conception to the contemporary art spaces happening nearly forty years after the first conception of “Inside the White Cube.” I do not think gallery spaces have become more neutral because of the primary purpose of selling art, but I do think the “white cube” and gallery sense space its more self-critical than it had been a few decades ago.

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A Look at Christie’s

Step under the bright awning of a towering Sol Lewitt piece and through to the tastefully decorated lobby and you’re there in a place that speaks of old propriety and even older money. Welcome to Christie’s!

On the visit there, the estate of Robert Ellsworth was spread throughout, a collection of thousands of pieces of Asian art dating back centuries. In one room, a bag full of dollar bills invites you to also leave a monetary gift to the gods. Parsing through the items felt more like roaming through a very expensive high-end department store. (Christie’s is certainly a good name for it)

Though Christie’s is open for anyone to come look at the art, it’s obviously not a museum. It could be considered a more buying-aggressive version of a gallery. In the days before an auction, all of the lots to be sold (and more) are spread throughout to check with your own eyes (and possibly hands) the items you want to buy. Only in the instance of the auction house that piece of art is not so much a historical masterpiece as it is “the new bureau for the guest room” or “wouldn’t this table look nice in the foyer?” One could think they were buying a piece of history. And for a million dollar price tag there are certain pieces where you certainly could.

If the buying/auctioning gets a bit tedious, feel free to suspend yourself over the plush couches in the members lounge. Have a cup of tea or coffee or water as you wait for the lot you want, while casually strolling by the pieces of art hanging on the wall. There might be something you like there (for the right price).

And when you do finally find the piece you’ve just got to have, the well-hidden cashier’s chamber is tasteful and private. Any purchases made can stay confidential behind the cleverly placed wall.

Though when I think of Christie’s I think “money…and lots of it”, it was surprising to find that Christie’s really operates as just an intermediary, owning nothing. Not the building, not the art, not even the furniture. Essentially all Christie’s owns is its name, which considering how well-known and old it is, is probably all it needs. Christie’s makes its money in buyer and seller fees, taking a percentage of a sale to keep itself running. It also leases out its name to real estate companies, a way to insert Christie’s in the homes of the clients they want. Because there will always be a market to buy and sell (no matter what it is….art or things that think they are art),  Christie’s can look forward to it’s continued stay on top of the secondary market.

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A Look at Armory Arts Week (in two fairs) pt 1

The Armory Show

The Armory Art Show is worth going just see the hordes of people roaming through the spectacle built by hundreds of galleries filled with priced art. Separated into Contemporary and Modern, the fair boasts to have something for everyone looking for art from the late 19th century to now.  Do you want to buy a Marco Maggi? How about a Diana Al Hadid? Robert Motherwell? Andy Warhol? Or maybe you just want to catch a glimpse of celebrity? Oh, look there’s Bon Jovi, and Jerry Saltz eating a snack. Or maybe you just want to be able to sip over-priced champagne and watch people peruse art while dodging each other? Well then, step through Piers 92 and 94: the frenzy has begun.

Parsing through the crowded booths on the last day of the fair, it was hard to tell the difference between those just looking and those looking to buy. What separates a collector or potential buyer from the masses? Well, it’s certainly not just the way they look and bank account numbers aren’t affixed to back of people’s jackets. In wading through the crowds, every so often I’d catch a snatch of conversation between the gallery representative and a potential client. One conversation in particular staged a casually-dressed couple and an un-equally well-dressed gallery representative.

The female half of the couple pointed to the photograph, “How much?”

“It’s already sold,” the gallery representative stated with a sympathetic air.

“Yes, but for how much?”

“$80,000,” the gallery representative affirmed.

“Well, it would have looked nice in the living room,” the female half of the couple sighs. Her male counter-part agrees. “Let’s go find something else.”

In seconds they were lost in the crowd, hopefully off to find the piece that would complete their living room.

Why not take down the sold art? Why give others some odd hope that they can too possess this one piece of art? Status symbol? Marketing move? This piece somebody already owns, but how about owning this lovely piece right next to it? This artist has been sold for x amount of dollars, it’s one that you should keep an eye out for, how about buying this one unsold piece? It’s a perhaps manipulative ploy but there are people to be paid.

While everybody seemed to be perusing the fair like it was an art shopping mall, the Armory Show did not seem like a place to look at art. The gallery showings aren’t curated exhibitions. Well except for that most are encouraged to make work just for the fair; work that will sell. Often, especially in the Contemporary pier, I found myself wondering why a certain artist was displayed next to another when the styles and message of the art seemed completely disparate. The booths just seems like a place to house the art until some prospective buyer stumbled along to buy it. That’s not to say all galleries fell short on this. In the Modern pier, each gallery seemed a bit more crafted to exhibition, showcasing similar artists next to each other in another great marketing ploy: if you like the way all of them looked together, why not buy all of them? Maybe it’s because Modern artists have the advantage of a proven track record and stabilized prices, but the Modern section felt less-frenzied. The Pier led a slightly calmer but cooler walk through, while people trotted along taking pictures of well-known artists. There didn’t seem to be much of the question or whether an artist would be sold (as in the Contemporary section) but the question of how much and to whom?

The Armory Show didn’t leave me with any art that wowed. There were a lot of pretty things that would look nice in a home. But nothing there seemed to challenge the status quo or to offer any real sort of commentary on art’s place. Should I even be looking for someone like that? The artists who made it to the Armory Show are an inspiration to keep doing what I am but the artwork offered up is not an inspiring sentiment for work that might have something to say.

[existencehere]

A Look at SoHo (the Judd House)

In some other life, I live in Donald Judd’s house. Minimalist fixings in brick, steel, and wood, it’s kind of the perfect place to inspire and be inspired. His house isn’t immortalized in time in the sense that Judd had just stepped out for coffee, but more of a carefully preserved and crafted presentation. Chairs tucked into the table, dished lined on the shelf, the sheets on the bed tucked just so, every pencil new and sharpened and perfectly placed. It’s museum-like without being overly stiff.

Though the entire time I spent in the house I had to hold back my urge to touch everything, I really enjoyed just taking everything in, knowing that the house (renovated though it is) is as close as it possibly could be to when Judd walked the same (but younger) floors.

It’s a look into a time and a culture of artists that used to populate the surrounding blocks. Now, tucked in between retail clothing stores the Judd house is a testament to a time that no longer exists. It’s nice to know that in ten years when the area’s probably changed again, I could come back to the house and see the same things, in the same place, completely unchanged.

Though the house is five floors and has a basement and sub-basement, I really loved that the foundation hadn’t filled it up. There was still breath left. I wonder how hard it was trying to choose, from thousands of objects, what got to stay in the house and what got to be stored away.

I was surprised not to see a ton of Judd’s own artwork. Just a couple of his sculptural pieces here and there, and of course most of the furniture built by him. I supposed its not really necessary to have a lot more of his sculptures (because some of them a pretty darn big) and there is all of the other pieces by other artists to consider. He really did what has been the catchphrase of the past few weeks “invest in your peers”, and he got to have some awesome things.

It was nice to see artist’s work that I recognized, not in a gallery or art museum. It made the art exist in a more everyday, functional way. (Yes, I can have that Lucas Samaras knife box right next to my bed. And of course that Carl Andre can be in the window). It makes me want to by an abandoned factory some place, and populate it with my art, and my friends’ art.

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A Look at Chelsea (in 3 galleries) Pt. 3

Hauser & Wirth

I didn’t get to explore any secret rooms in Hauser & Wirth (I don’t know if that back room bar counts as a secret room), but it was definitely like stepping in another facet of art gallery space. Settled on 18th street in what I’ve been told used to be a bowling alley, the place is ginormous. With several large and airy connecting rooms, the space feels industrial and a little corporate. Unlike the other visited galleries, well-dressed individuals prowl the gallery floors, with sharp eyes as a warning to “please do not touch the art.” It’s interesting to think that these everyday objects are forbidden in the context of art, though Subodh Gupta sculptures and installations in every shade of metal are much more interesting than the usual porridge pot. He has transformed these discard or “stolen” (as he calls them) objects into something more.

Opening up the gallery throughway with a not-fountain, water sculpture of repurposed pans, it’s a great beginning to an exhibition so evocative of Gupta’s Indian background. The set-up of Hauser & Wirth almost felt too pristine, though I am sure everything was set with Gupta’s opinions in place too. I wanted more grit for the backdrop. I don’t know if it’s because of how beautifully crafted everything was or because the materials used symbolize work in the everyday. Maybe I wanted more organic material against the man-made creations, something that would make these pieces even more striking, ever more breath-taking. I also wonder how these pieces would look if presented in an outdoor space against the elements. (But that could just be a bit of odd-curatorial eye speaking)

[existencehere]

A Look at Chelsea (in 3 galleries) Pt. 2

Kent Fine Art

Then it was on to Kent Fine Art, and another kind of secret room.

Though it wasn’t Saturday, the group I was with was given a taste of what the secret society initiation process is for Societe Civile pour l’Enterrement de Pensees Mortes. Secreted away behind a curtain near the entrance of the gallery, searching individuals are quested to choose their favorite “dead and obsolete thought” from a shelf full of labeled jars. It looks like a performance/experience worth having while its up.

Even though the gallery isn’t that big, I feel like I need more than one visit to truly get the experience of Helguera. The set-up is very museum like, in the sense that museums will usually house a variety of centrally themed items in one gallery. Stepping through, and in and out of rooms, a sampling of Helguera projects can be had. Like the secret room, but with a lot more light and thoughts that are fully alive, the gallery holds imprints of Helguera’s performance work.

Kent Fine Art provides the opportunity to become, in some way, a part of the Helguera’s art. In re-performance and re-invention and, even just simply observing the document of the work, the piece continues to move on in a way that other art media cannot. In the presentation of his work, I felt that I could not just be a passive observer in the experience of the viewing. There were things to touch and read and act out. Even though the performance connected to some of the pieces wasn’t happening, the pieces felt alive.

Later upon further research, I found video documentation of some of Helguera’s work and was surprised how flat it was viewing it on my computer screen. I thought I would have added to my experience of Helguera’s work as someone who works primarily in video and enjoys video documentation, but it definitely wasn’t the same as seeing the same artifacts in the space of the gallery or probably even a re-invention/performance of the actually work.

I will definitely have to go back, if only to actually be initiated into the secret society of dead ideas.

[existencehere]

A Look at Chelsea (in 3 galleries) Pt. 1

Since arriving in New York two months ago, I’ve gotten the privilege of exploring quite a few of Chelsea gallery exhibitions. One of the things I like about galleries in New York is that they’re free. With a little pre-research and planning, it’s also a great opportunity to focus on one artist or art medium.

I recently got to have a personal look into a few galleries; chatting with personnel and viewing some secret rooms.

Danziger Gallery

Going into seeing Jim Krantz’s work knowing about his commercial work with the Marlboro Man ads and the Richard Prince controversy, it was really hard to disconnect that with seeing his work. To me the large color prints, even presented in a gallery with a firm “art space” setting, it felt very commercial. Seeing the images, especially juxtaposed with the Playboy ones felt like ads out of cowboy magazine. (But then I guess I question if I should be making a distinction between art as just art, and art  for commercial work?)

I wonder how I would have viewed the work without knowing the connections. In looking at the giant prints, while I thought they were well done, I still felt as if they were blown up commercial prints for a Western spread in a magazine. I think I still would have been reminded of Marlboro Man even though the presence of smoking ads in the U.S. are pretty much nil just because advertisement is so ingrained in our society.

The few that I didn’t see that way were the three large black and white prints of a rodeo. The image is obscured and its hard to see where the cowboys hands and feet are and where the horse is. The stoic capture of motion next to the vivid, wide landscapes of cowboy on the Western front were the most intriguing pieces for me. Maybe its because they felt really different next to the other images. Taken out of the space and placed in a gallery with other similar photography work I wonder if they still would have held my attention. With art sometimes its all about context.

Behind the scenes of the gallery front are the secret rooms of housed art. I was also able to get a small peek inside where they keep the art and where they sell prints to buyers. I almost wish I could see a sale in work, but buying art seems like such a private thing.