Art About Nothing
Why is there so much art about so little?
Happy Haters
I was in such a state of exuberance at scalini’s last night the man at the adjoining table asked me to step out for a fight. Though I have a proclivity to swear and am American, fisticuffs was not quite what i had in mind on the menu. Happy haters. And, no surprise with me, its not the first time.
Negative Affirmation
I found myself the brunt of someone else’s joke for a good portion of lunch today. Rather then take affront I realized there is something positive in such negative affirmations.
Sothebys 2011 Feb Auctions London
For a change, the biggest prices went for the smallest works; a bacon, dali and freud-14, 13 and 5 inches respectively. Finally, something matters more than size alone.
a.r.t.
Malevich, Duchamp and Picasso; for me, that’s the origins of contemporary art. Malevich for exploding and reducing the picture plane, Duchamp for sticking two fingers up at the portentous world of art, and Picasso for being such an adept chameleon, changing stripes at will.
Fickle Pickle
The art world is a fickle place with a constantly shifting target of value. Get on the wrong side and its not pleasant; but, with care and consideration there’s not a better space to be.
Open Admissions
A friend wrote from the Architecture School at Harvard today and mentioned she was studying with the artist Krzysztof Wodiczko about the theory of monuments and on the curriculum was a book I co-wrote with Vito Acconci. Sure I wouldn’t be there were it not for Vito, but, hey, I can finally say I got into the Ivy League.
Yo Pablo!
Though there is no mention of it on their website, there’s a show of new paintings by Sylvester Stallone at a gallery in St. Moritz; by the looks of it, I think he’s going through his abortion period. This gives all new meaning to the famed 1901 portrait by the master: Yo, Picasso!
Front Stabbers
I know this sounds pretentious (it is) but the art world is an old fashion (mostly) gentleman’s market with small talk, billions and daggers. They don’t stab you in the back, but rather the front; then you are compelled to have dinner as you can’t afford to alienate a source, lawsuits notwithstanding.
Brain Brawn: Vito Acconci Fan Club
I saw Vito Acconci speak at the University College London for The Bartlett School of Planning; after all these years, I can never tire of such an exhilarating experience. The lectures have morphed into what the performances use to be: physical concrete poetry, rhythmic and lyrical, moving and jarring. With repetition and bodily swaying, his spoken words have sculptural presence. And Acconci is hilarious in his deadpan celebration of abject failure. Though I wasn’t name-checked for previous commissions and facilitations, I was grateful to be in the presence of such old school brain brawn.
Collect
A good collector never let’s money or lack thereof, get in way.
Dark, Wet UK Winter.
I was just unceremoniously informed my text could not be sent due to the fact it was a “semantically incorrect message”: evidence of the strong, paternalistic arm of Blackberry censors. And my bad grammar. Admittedly, I incessantly anticipate the blinking red light of incoming messages. What is normally a 20-minute school run took 1:34 minutes in traffic today. No wonder I have gained and lost 10 lbs in both January and February, and seen the bottom of a glass with too much frequency of late. Must be the long, dark, wet, cold UK winter again.