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The Sunday Video: Procrastination

I put off posting this week’s Sunday Video until the last minute. I kept making cups of tea.

Procrastination from Johnny Kelly on Vimeo.

This post was contributed by Bob Snead.

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Jet Set Saturdays: From My Universe: Objects of Desire Part II at See Line Gallery

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Todd Gray installation detail from My Universe: Objects of Desire Part II Curated by Janet Levy.

One of the pleasures of the life of a Jet Setter is that rare moment of discovery when you hear or see something that is so beyond chic, it’s transcendent. During the Art Los Angeles Contemporary Fair I had the opportunity to hear Todd Gray, a well-known as a photographer and conceptual artist, talk about his work at See Line Gallery, unbeknownst to him.  Among various gems of vocational regalia recounted as I sat there in my anonymousness was a story of how he met Michael Jackson and worked as his personal photographer when Jackson was a young star. Jackson, by Gray’s account, was clearly his own creation – like Elvis or Liberace, a cultural phenom, paralleling the role of the visual artist. Gray, aware of the Jackson associations, has brilliantly raided his own historic photographs in order to create associations that resonate as both conceptual and poignant.

In the group show, “From My Universe: Objects of Desire Part II” at See Line Gallery in the Pacific Design Center, Gray has created a mysterious installation featuring among others, photographs of himself covered in shaving cream as a white-faced monster. The photographs have been cut out higgledy piggledy along the contours of his creamy white form creating ghosts that hover in the gray gallery space in juxtaposition to his photographs of Michael Jackson and African ceremonial masks. Gray has sublimated the notion of race here by creating a “gray” context signed for by the painted gray walls.

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Todd Gray installation from My Universe: Objects of Desire Part II Curated by Janet Levy

All of the referents here are mixed up in each the other and are directly or indirectly implicated as participants. The African ceremonial masks stand nobly in front of the photographs as they would in a private home. The masks reference modernism with their obvious appropriation of the genre by “modern masters” such as Braque and Picasso. Then there is the spirit of Gray himself, his billowy shaving cream portraits hovering in the dim room, ghost-like and highly personal, the parallel “white face” to Jackson’s cream bleached skin tone. Because Gray has personalized the experience of viewing the masks and Jackson with his own image, the whole history of art and popular culture is animated in a palpable and interesting way. See Line Gallery director Janet Levy had a direct role in facilitating Gray’s experience of the space, encouraging him to take risks like hanging on a gray wall and including the African art.

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Keith Walsh, Meditation Stone (Larry Flynt), 2004–2007. Cel vinyl acrylic, gesso, wood, masonite. Approximate dimensions: 17 x 11 x 10”. Keith Walsh sculptures double as abstract portraits of controversial public figures. Op-art vectors fragment the holistic sculptural object, thereby commenting upon public and private realms, the perception of the surface versus substance, and the propositional nature of the abstract and conceptual art. The sculptures function as meditation stones that have no beginning or end, nor intended up or downside for display.

The Objects of Desire theme is strictly from Levy’s imagination as an artist who likes to create radical associations between disparate practices in order to create drama and poignancy in her gallery space. The show is all over the place. Included are graphic and abstract sculptures from Keith Walsh’s portraits of controversial figures, Michael Dee’s delicate and glowy Murano glass inspired plastic sculptures, and Eamon O’Kane’s sweet little oil paintings of architectural monuments which peek out of a corner. Augusta Wood’s photographs pay respect to the spiritual qualities latent in modernism while Seth Kaufman’s gorgeous paint chip sculptures and faux wooden bronzes greet viewers with their own transformative magic.

SUCKER-LOW

Seth Kaufman, Sucker, 2009. Paint, adhesive, metal. 11.5 x 14.5 x 11.5”.

Zoe Crosher’s gorgeous digital prints of a high class call-girl sit charmingly next to sparkly views of swimming pool surfaces juxtapose Ebony G. Patterson’s uncomfortable portrait of a Caribbean youth with a bleached white face looms ominously in the background inserting levity and drama.

Untitled Souljah

Ebony G. Patterson, Untitled Souljah, 2009. Mixed media. Variable dimensions.

Kendell Carter’s tufted and mirrored milk crates sit in their own corner surrounded by his airbrush shoelace paintings, fitting into the Pacific Design Center showroom and adding their own critical discourse to an experience of the building.  Brenna Youngblood and Yasmin Than’s photos get a little lost here because of their intimate nature — they call out for their own independent space. Sherin Guirguis, on the other hand, has seized the opportunity to dominate two walls with her massive combination paintings and Islamic cut paper designs. Almost lost in its own corner but nobly holding its own is a brilliant design for a transformation of the Guggenheim museum by Ball Nogues Studio with Jessica Fleischmann, Contraption for the Production of Cultural Confection.  The drawing depicts the floors of the museum transformed into a candy factory where the art is secondary and the candy is all-powerful.  The Ball Nogues/Fleischmann collaboration is imaginative and witty, and is beautifully topped by a rendering in plastic of the candy itself stuck to the surface of the printed proposal.

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Sherin Guirguis, Untitled(Scorpion), 2009. Watercolor, ink, gold leaf on hand cut paper. 49 x 69″

There is little holding the show together except for Levy’s love and devotion to each object and artists in the show – really the whole point of the show.

Gallery says: “The individual perspective is often confused as an all-encompassing view of the world or universe at large. Because the individual perspective is the only medium in which we can access the world, humankind has developed the subconscious notion of ‘my universe,’ which is shaped from each individual’s experience, used as a convention in order to make sense of the otherwise chaotic stimulus that the greater universe harbors.”

Levy’s universe is a vast and meandering experience of the artist and aesthete, that of the true Jet Setter.  Her devotion to the creative process is evidenced by both her own stunning body of artwork and work as a gallerist, both clearly labors of love. Levy posits herself among many contemporary emerging artists who see themselves not as operating in isolation, but as artists making art within a historic time frame that they must shape in order to enter as relevant and poignant makers[.]

From My Universe: Objects of Desire Part II Curated by Janet Levy is on view at See Line Gallery until February 25, 2010.

Artists include: Ball Nogues, Kendell Carter, Zoe Crosher, Michael Dee, Sherin Guirguis, Todd Gray, Seth Kaufman, Eamon O’Kane, Ebony G. Patterson, Yasmin Than, Keith Walsh, Augusta Wood, Brenna Youngblood

For more information please visit: www.seelinegallery.com

This post was contributed by Mary Anna Pomonis.

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Reflections on Performa 09

Joan Jonas performance.

Joan Jonas performance.

Performa 09, the New York based performance art Biennial sponsored by the New York organization of the same name, took place all over New York City this past November (1 – 22) and included 150 artists, 11 commissions by the Performa organization, and 6 premieres. The central highlight amidst a forest of events scattered all over Manhattan and other New York City boroughs for three weeks seemed to be the massive video/film exhibition at PS 1 called 100 Years (version #2) (open until April 5th, 2010).

Presenting influential moments in the past century of performance art history and including over 200 works of film, photography, documents, and audio, 100 Years (version #2) presented some rarely seen documentation and was intended to archive a century of art performed. Remnants and fragments of Italian Futurism and it’s eventual international adherents were widely evident and served as stark reminders of the innovative and open way artists and intellectuals greeted the dawning of the last century: ‘Progress’ was the keyword and it included social, technical, and intellectual advances that people optimistically projected unto the future.

It was impossible not to notice how our own reception of the 21st century seems somehow a bit trepid by comparison; as if fear and market concerns had at least somewhat preempted the freshness artists seemed to feel then: In 2000 instead of the dawn of a new era, fear of a computer-glitch disaster and social breakdown caused everyone to buy home safes, and stockpile food, cash, and firearms. Perhaps as a result, and perhaps thankfully, people’s implicit trust of technological advances was jaded. Where as before we would have seen progress, today we see threats to our own and our planet’s health. In addition, institutionalized poverty and debt have fostered a distrust of government motives and predictions of social breakdown.

Unknown performance.

Unknown performance.

It has to be remembered that Marx and Freud had really just finished modernizing our collective definition of what Human life meant by exposing the dark primal forces we’d always possessed, and the limiting regulatory systems that had controlled us. For the first time in living memory people were beginning to accept their fundamental desire for material and sexual gratification and throw off the yoke of ruling classes and controlling religious institutions. At the time that was progress. Now that that’s been done, and the new editions of the Red Book by Carl Jung, a more socio-spiritual interpreter of Human motivations, are selling out so fast they can’t be kept on the shelves, and in light of the return to ‘Fundamentalist’ religious practice among the larger and more politically-based world religions, it may be worth wondering whether our then-new-found brand of Humanism unwittingly came up short on including the Human aspect that so dominated earlier periods: the need for meaning, for myth, and for spiritual expression. Man may have created God, but having done this so universally, (s)he may have needed to. Did progress, as politics, social solidarity, or ‘modernist’ art give us the meaning we still needed? As the government became increasingly self serving instead of citizen serving, and as the world of art morphed into the market of art, the answer seems to be no, apparently not.

Alicia Framis ''Lost Astronaut" 2009.

Alicia Framis ”Lost Astronaut” 2009.

Digressing, one interesting case that this viewer caught at Performa 09 was the ongoing performance by Spanish Artist Alicia Framis, who dressed up as an astronaut, and walked around town executing daily agendas laid out for her by other performance figures like Marina Abramovic and Mark Beasley. If perhaps a bit self-referential in this regard, the piece nevertheless was inevitably somewhat interactive and spontaneous on the streets and subways of Manhattan, and seemed rather expansive in other ways: extraterrestrial travel as a 2-way street. Maybe we will see an inter-universe or inter-galactic art movement in this century. In any event, it was a worthwhile counter weight to the assumption that we’re on the verge of destroying ourselves along with our planet.

Dexter Sinister.

Dexter Sinister “The First/Last Newspaper Edits”

At the other end of technology, the future, and referential art, the work of  ‘Dexter Sinister’, a British duo, stood out for it’s more ambiguous approach and references to media past and present. In a storefront on the ground floor of the Port Authority Bus Terminal at 41st Street and 8th Avenue, the group created a sort of newsroom set up with folding furniture and a few people tapping away, heads down, at keyboards. Littered with printed copy, lay-out boards and remnants of takeout food, the space seemed anything but a performance: visitors weren’t acknowledged and ‘though it seems that one could ask questions, I did not as everybody appeared to be busy. Instead I checked out the copy –articles about media, the so-called 4th Estate (journalism), Ben Franklin as intellectual pirate, clever items on journalism, intellectual history, (“BLIND MAN IN DARK ROOM LOOKING FOR BLACK CAT THAT S NOT THERE”; “Our story begins in Ancient Greece, with Socrates announcing, “I know that I know nothing”; “Clearly, confusion has always been at the heart of wisdom”; and so forth).

The Performa 09 was the third performance art festival produced by Performa, a New York-based non-profit interdisciplinary arts organization created by groundbreaking author, curator and champion of performance art, Rose Lee Goldberg, and like Art Basel Miami Beach, where even more is compressed into one week, there was a lot that went on that this viewer didn’t see. Not including talks, lectures, symposia, etc there was already way more than one could ever realistically attend.

Food Installation by Jennifer Rubbell at Performa 9 Opening Reception.

Food Installation by Jennifer Rubell at Performa 09 Opening Reception.

The sense of disillusionment over the failed idealism of art and politics in the 20th century notwithstanding, the sheer freshness of videos at the Performa 09/PS 1 exhibitions do seem to suggest that the kind of conceptuality that the documentation of Performance Art inevitably is, does continue to thwart the ongoing attempt, usually completely successful, to turn our, and even it’s residue, into something that can be bought, sold, traded, and invested in. Rauschenberg’s erased drawings didn’t transcend the market because they remained objects, but a video or still photograph of a performance can never be more than a documentation of an art event (if this were as true for the erased drawings then a video or a before-and-after still would have been the result).

100 years (version #2) and the way last year’s Performa Biennial was spread out into unexpected public spaces indicated that the impetus behind the origins of Conceptual and Performance Art, to create art that could exist outside the confines of a distracting market structure that has so often disrupted art’s purpose to expand consciousness and provide spiritual nourishment, has been proven to be successful as one can only invest monetarily in the residual documentation of such fleeting immediacy[.]

This post was contributed by David Rohn.

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The Sunday Video: How To Report The News

After reading of artists taking over the airwaves this week, it got me thinking about all of the abandoned UHF and VHF television signals floating around ever since the TV stations gave them up for strictly digital broadcasts. It’s time for artists to adopt these lonely TV signals. Don’t think of it as pirating. Think of it as recycling or dumpster diving. Then it could be considered ‘green’ right? The FCC can’t fault you for being green.

For today’s Sunday Video, I’ve selected a step by step ‘how to’ on reporting the news.  SEE! DIY TV stations – totally doable.

Charlie Brooker – How To Report The News via PrivateCustard

This post was contributed by Bob Snead.

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Jet Set Saturdays: Tom LaDuke at Angles Gallery

YoureLikeMe

Tom LaDuke’s “You’re like me,” 2010, references David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet.” Oil and acrylic on canvas over panel, 75 x 100 inches. Image courtesy of Angles Gallery.

Tom LaDuke’s paintings at Angles Gallery are like a really great New Romantic song from the 80’s. They evoke a sublime experience in populist fashion, with a lowly airbrush filling in for an electronic beat. LaDuke finishes his pieces off with a little slap of makeup on the surface (the way Adam Ant would), et voila!, beauty and love are all around.

LaDuke’s paintings strive for the extraordinary in a globalized art world, didactically sampling from art history’s finest examples. Combining the melancholy secularism and supernatural quality of Caspar David Friedrich with the mundane, obsessed practice of Gerhard Richter, they are beautiful fucking paintings!

YoungLove

Tom LaDuke’s “Young Love,” 2010, references the Swedish pre-teen vampire film “Let the right one in.” Oil and acrylic on canvas over panel, 45 x 60 inches. Image courtesy of Angles Gallery.

Conceptually the paintings find resonance in Jean Baudrillard’s brash view of contemporary social oppression via electronic media,forming what the theorist refers to as “soft violence”. LaDuke clarifies this postmodern attitude of being stuck on the television screen and ferociously self-effacing. The background gray sub-surface of his painting field mimicks the reflection of an old black-and-white TV. LaDuke’s virulent act is further illustrated by the throwing of paint across a shallow façade, where he’s somehow able to turn chunky, passionate strokes into gestures that evoke the composition of Jan Van Eyck’s “The Arnolfini Wedding.” The deftness of these moves in the limiting media of paint re-asserts a superhuman quality latent in Western culture, where the painter endeavors an idea just beyond the grasp of human hands.

Lovelorn

Tom LaDuke’s “Lovelorn,” 2008. Oil and acrylic on canvas over panel, 60 x 80 inches. Image courtesy of Angles Gallery.

Within the context of contemporary cultural glut, LaDuke becomes a form-based deejay. Mix-mastering from art’s greatest hits, he simultaneously presents a postmodern aesthetic symphony and reifies our mortal existence. That there is nothing new here doesn’t make his work unexciting. On the contrary, it reminds one of just how titillating a great big, juicy, old-fashioned painting can be. The commitment he’s made to his craft is the same kind of contribution Karl Lagerfeld has made to the house of Chanel, mostly in homage. His innovation comes in the recontextualizing of beauty, making his elegant and romantic works palpable to even the most cynical critic. LaDuke is simply one of Los Angeles’ greatest living painters. As Coco Chanel once famously said, “simplicity is the keynote of all true elegance.”

FILMSTILL

Ori Gersht’s “Falling Bird” (video still). Image courtesy of Angles Gallery.

Also compelling is the video entitled Falling Bird by Ori Gersht in the rear gallery, adjacent to LaDuke. Falling Bird is based on the composition of a Chardin painting, where Gersht has oddly combined the elements of technology and academic painting. The subject matter is far more exciting than one might expect via a tumultuous, sensual experience of gas bubbles and rich black water in slow motion. Innovative and fresh, the artist seems to be positing a technological future where emotion itself is a protracted exercise like easel painting. Here the viewer is invited into a painting and allowed to see the water, as a bird hanging from his feet might. To extend my metaphor from the LaDuke show, a comparison of Gersht to Alexander McQueen is in order. Gersht’s work is similarly intense and operating from a point of view beyond the ordinary. Angles has pulled out the stops with this pairing, truly owning their new space and wiping out this Jet Setter’s memory of the previous tenant.

This post was contributed by Mary Anna Pomonis.

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The Deauville sessions: An artist run pirate radio show

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Inside the studio. Image credit.

A rumor was recently broadcast among the Miami arts community via various texts and tweets that an artist run pirate radio station was being operated from an undisclosed location 17 floors above Miami beach.

Every evening last week various Miami based artists assumed the role of pirate radio DJ’s and took turns in broadcasting on vacant frequencies. Running from around 4pm until midnight the shows, spontaneous yet consecutive, ran largely uninterrupted save for a few station changes and sporadic static problems.

Having tuned in during the week, always to a different station, I finally set out to find the ’studio’ on Friday, the finale of the stunt’s stint.

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Inside the studio. Image credit.

At around half past seven, after receiving a text about the Freegums show – perhaps the most publicized of all the shows – which read “Change station da popo found us! Now 101.3 fm call in ahora! 305-XXX-XXXX (removed by request).” I got in my car and with the wipers removing a light tropical winter drizzle from my windshield, set off.

For most of the drive from the ‘Artlurker offices’ across 79th Street causeway nothing came through the radio except a loud hiss, but as I passed The Crab House, and just after that, Benihana, a subtle, unintelligible, but decipherable fluctuation began to resonate faintly within the static. By the time I passed Normandy Pools, fits and starts of Cypress Hill’s “Insane in the brain,” punctuated by poor reception (more hissing) and samples of an elephant trumpeting in distress were coming through loud, if not clear.

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View from the roof of The Deauville Beach Resort.

As the exact location of the secretive temporary studio – the penthouse of a hotel on Miami Beach – had been given to me via word of mouth under the assumption of hearsay and promptly forgotten I cruised around using the radio as a divining rod, trying to get the clearest signal, an exercise I hoped would guide me to my destination. After driving the wrong way down Harding Avenue for about ten blocks and almost causing a wreck when my lack of experience driving on ‘the beach’ clashed with Superbowl traffic, I pulled in desperation into a Walgreens parking lot to discover with some relief that I was opposite The Deauville Beach Resort (6701 Collins Avenue), whose name rang a distant bell in my memory as the hotel I should be looking for.

With just half an hour to spare before I got towed for not shopping at Walgreens I turned off the engine, killing the show which had now degenerated into chirpy karaoke covers of Michael Jackson’s greatest hits, and crossed the street.

The lobby of the The Deauville Beach Resort was full of what looked like a foreign exchange program. Knapsacks, bags and plastic anoraks adorned gaggles of 18 something European types, who swarmed around docents and robotic hotel staff. Undeterred from my momentum by a faint but enticing whiff of profiteroles I made straight for the elevator and, as the doors closed on a number of curious, blazered authoritarians, I pushed the button marked PH for Penthouse.

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Looking into the studio from the roof.

When the doors opened again there was dust, emergency lighting and a long, uninviting corridor.  From beyond a rubble strewn emergency staircase, through the audible gloom of this forgotten place, a child-like version of Michael Jackson’s Billy Jean came drifting.

Pangs of excitement, fear, and disbelief at the sheer balls of this oddity and my new found proximity to it immediately subsided as I entered the room, a large, dark unfinished storeroom piled high with dusty chairs, and found Death Print director, Aiden Dillard, hunched over a microphone squeaking out the last of Jackson’s best selling 1983 single.

Freegums had just come off the air and Viking Funeral, who bowled through the door a moment later with a bottle of Whiskey, were up next. Through an unframed doorway, a rain swathed roof staged a darkened skyline. The city, a million twinkling points in a blustery void, stretched on below the damp veil of night. And an antenna, illuminated by studio lights, stood proudly erect as various conspirators and onlookers smoked in its shadow, patiently waiting their turn at the mic.

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Artist.

This post was contributed by Thomas Hollingworth.

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