The only snow this season

The film opens with a slow-panning shot floating over the debris of an ancient battlefield. Although a solo trumpet sings out a battle hymn (I am uncertain, but I believe not one of triumph), and a soft blanket of snow falls quietly onto the weapons, wheels, and leftover piles of armor. There are no bloody bodies, but this is inferred. The luxuriousness with which the camera focuses on each object, and the composition of the song, brings to mind a scene from The Godfather, as if the camera was panning over the aftermath of a murderous Italian banquet. The 20-minute film is Ye Jiang (The Nightman Cometh), by Chinese artist Yang Fudong, currently on view at Marian Goodman Gallery. The story is that of a historical fantasy, following a soldier across a dream world, as ghost-like characters follow in his footpath (perhaps spirits, his psyche, or gods?).

The set for Ye Jiang (The Nightman Cometh), is too fantastical, almost cartoonish, to be real, and in fact filmed on set. It would almost seem appropriate to catch a glimpse Sam the Snowman from the 1964 animation of Ruldoph scooting by in the background. However, put more elegantly, each scene is composed with a painterly touch, as the blacks and whites almost shine like fresh linseed oil. The snowflakes are so large that each one looks as though it were make of dove feather, and the trees are so precious it feels as though we are looking inside of a snowglobe.

As the defeated (or perhaps simply introspective and bereft) samurai warrior makes his way through the night (his subconscious), the score develops into a forlorn arrangement of string instruments, setting the tone. The three figures (all dressed in white) that follow the warrior look as though they came out of a David Lynch film, like they're meandering dead. A geisha, a woman in a modern silk dress, and a well-suited David Bowie-like man wander both brave and helplessly through the night. The real shock comes when a pristine spotted doe and a gorgeously ferocious eagle make their way into the scene. The camera captures their every movement, and the eagle seems to stare so intensely into the camera you feel as though it is staring into your eyes. To see these animals in such an artificial situation stirs up a familiar emotional formula, igniting a clash between real life and cinema.

Although the piece seems to exist in a different era, in a different world, the artist prefers to describe it as "Neo-Realistic" rather than historical, because it questions contemporary reality through the lens of history (from an interview with Li Zhenhua). Lastly, because this is a film, and because it is looping in the gallery, the entire story seems to exist without time. We don't know when the battle started, or when it will start again, or whether to take with us a feeling or despair or hopefulness. We don't have any point of reference as to how long the warrior is traveling for, as past, present, and future push against each other. Ye Jiang (The Nightman Cometh) exists as a film, as a dream, as a memory.

Around the Fairs in Five Days

Every year during the Armory Arts Week, I get the chance to see work by artists I've never heard of, presented by galleries from countries I'll probably never have the opportunity to visit. If I can see past the mealy, overpriced fair food, mega-crowds, and hot, blaring art-booth spotlights, I can see some great art. By far, the most enjoyable fair was INDEPENDENT, thanks not only to the galleries involved, but because of the smart design of interior architecture which encouraged a fluid, non-quadratic movement from booth to booth in the sun-filled former Dia space. In fact, most booths spilled into others, making it unclear as to which piece belonged to which gallery. Rather than checking in and checking out of a booth, viewers were able to comfortably, casually stroll through the fair. I also quite enjoyed VOLTA, where galleries are provided with the platform (and required) to showcase a solo-artist, which challenges them to attempt to represent their entire program with one artist. The results were clever, clean, and well-presented. Lastly, I of course was a fan of the SPRING/BREAK Art Show, NYC's first curator-driven art fair which took over a former Catholic School near Little Italy.

Among some of my favorites at the Armory Fair :

Marta Minujin's photo series of a performance with Andy Warhol, Paying off the Argentine Foreign Debt with Corn, “the Latin American Gold”, 1985-2011, hung on the exterior walls of Henrique Faria Fine Art (New York). The name says it all, and I love the absurdity of the 'exchange' that the two bring to this performance. Pop art, capitalism, commodity, corn.

The Helen Frankenthaler prints on handmade paper at Mixografia (Los Angeles) were incredibly lush in color and texture. The acidic greens, the gooey yellows, the cloudy lavenders, really had to be seen in person (my photo below does no justice).

Within the beautifully curated booth at Mendes Wood (São Paulo), a mesmerizing video by Jen Denike caught my eye right away. In the looping video, Dunking, two young men wrestle in waist-deep water under the high noon sun. Although on the surface, the video showcases the ultimate testosterone-fueled act of fighting, it also carries adolescent-homoerotically-confused undertones.

The series of Roland Flexner ink drawings outside the booth of Galerie Nathalie Obadia (Paris, Brussels) were captivating. They reminded me of Romaticist, landscape paintings, but done in monotone and miniature (the ink, rather than black was more of a dark blue hue). I saw a caves, a beach scene, a picnic on a mountain. Flexner captures the essence of light, movement, and composition with wishy washy sumi ink.

The Ken Weathersby paintings at Pierogi (New York) were made with such complete detail and precision, I can only imagine the delicate hands of this man working in his studio. I'm a sucker for balsa wood. The primary-color palette and geometric quality of the work bring to mind a millennial Mondrian.

O Rio, by Artur Lescher on view at Galeria Nara Roesler (São Paulo), is a wall sculpture that holds two rolls of an impossibly long monotype print. A dense, cool gray ink continues for meters and meters atop a thick, crispy paper, that has been rolled up into two coils. The final composition is both silly and elegant.


At INDEPENDENT:

I can't really describe why I liked these sculptures by Nicola L. at Broadway 1602 (New York) so much other than that they represent Ocean and Earth as two floppy monsters. Like a bear skin mounted on a wall, they are now powerless. The fact that they were constructed out of man-made material, in two extremes (burlap and some sort of vinyl), brings to mind man's role in global warming and our misconstrued ideas of the 'natural' today.

There was a lot of good video at the INDEPENDENT, and what I liked the most is that all of it was presented on high-definition monitors (rather than projected onto screens). Not that I have anything against projection, it's just that it is not always presented with quality. In Offshore by Magali Reus at The Approach (London), a group of CK model-esque men are swimming offshore and continuously fetching large, blue oil barrels and bringing them back on to the beach. It looks exhausting, kind of like oil politics.


At VOLTA:

When I came across the sculptures of Jorge Díaz-Torres at RICA (San Juan), the director of the gallery had to remind me, twice, that they were made of paper-mache! A master of trompe-l'oeil, Díaz-Torres seamlessly recreates junk sheet metal, air conditioners, and metal gates out of paper-mache and ceramic.

The installation by Peter Holst Henckel at Galleri Specta (Copenhagen) was all about time. Time as a real measurement, time as we individually perceive it, as well as the artist's personal relationship with time. Of this three-part installation, my favorite was a time-lapse video of tulips as they open, perk up, and eventually die.


Finally, my overall favorite booth goes to the full-on installation by Eric Yahnker at Ambach & Rice (Los Angeles). I hate to choose favorites, but how can I forget a booth that has a surfing dinosaur, Einsten with a sock puppet, and baseballs autographed by everyone I've ever wanted to meet?



Marta Minujin, Andy Warhol, Paying off the Argentine Foreign Debt with Corn, “the Latin American Gold”


Helen Frankenthaler, Hermes


Jen Dineke, Dunking


Roland Flexner, Untitled (image: Galerie Nathalie Obadia)


Ken Weathersby, 190(wfr) (detail)


Artur Lescher, O Rio



Nicola L. at Broadway 1602


Magali Reus, Offshore


Jorge Díaz-Torres


Peter Holst Henckel, It's About Time



Eric Yahnker at Ambach & Rice

Mirror, Mirror

"Mirror, mirror upon the wall, Who is the fairest of all?"

Due to the undeniable truth that people love to look at themselves, it's no surprise that a mirror is one of the most clever elements of a successful piece of art, and certainly one of the most popular things to look at while browsing through an art fair. While visiting fairs around New York this week --The Armory, Independent, VOLTA, and Scope-- I couldn't help but notice the abundance of mirrors everywhere I went. Are these meant as an opportunity for spiritual or philosophical self-reflection (why are you really here, why are you buying art?), or are they meant to subtly flatter the collector ("Damn I look good in these shoes)?


Michelangelo Pistoletto at Galleria Continua, The Armory Show


Galeria Baro, Armory



BISCOFF/WEISS, Armory



Chul Hyun Ahn at C Grimaldis Gallery, Scope


i8 Gallery, Armory


Tony Matelli at Leo Koenig, Armory



Kenton Parker at Primary Projects, Scope



Sies + Höke, Armory


Martin Basher at Starkwhite, Armory


More on the fair week to come soon!

Upcoming project: Till dust gathers on grass

My Placebo Affect

Carston Höller, Experience, The New Museum, Oct 26, 2011 - Jan 22, 2012
Carston Höller, Birds and Mushrooms, Carolina Nitsch Project Room, Oct 7 - Dec 23, 2011


I'm really glad that I didn't wait in line for hours to put down a supposed 1K+ credit card deposit for the "Upside-Down Goggles." I'm glad I didn't get undressed and float in a sub-par sensory deprivation chamber (dubbed Psycho Tank), where I would have been fully aware that that I was in the New Museum, in an overcrowded gallery, in a dank tank, with another line waiting behind me to experience sensory deprivation at its weakest. I'm even glad I didn't pay the hiked admission fee for Carsten Höller's Experience. The show was thoughtlessly sparse and obnoxiously glitzy at the same time. There were flashing lights for flashing lights' sake. If you want to talk about Relational Art, human interaction and perception, let's talk about Iñigo Manglano-Ovalle's Phantom Truck, let's talk about Roman Ondak's In Good Feelings in Good Times, let's talk about Jack Strange's Staring into Seeing...hell let's even talk about the Damien Hirst Spot Challenge.

In contrast to the Experience at the museum, Carolina Nitsch Project Room put on a delightful, demure presentation of the artist's work, Birds and Mushrooms , at the end of 2011. On view were two suites of luscious, velvety photogravure etchings of crossbred birds that Höller has studied as an ornithologist. There was also a suite of four-color photogravures of rare and poisonous mushrooms from the Scandinavian region of Europe. The images are printed off register, and viewers were encouraged to use a pair of 3D glasses to get the full effect. One pair for the gallery, no lines. Beautifully printed photogravures, of magnificently odd and normal creatures. In comparison to the show at the New Museum, bigger and brighter is not always better.

Back at the big show —the 100-ft slide, ads all over the subway show— even the lesser pieces in Experience failed to impress. In one of the staircases there is an enormous pile of while pill capsules, accompanied by a generic water cooler. There is a sign that says, something along the lines of, "Please take one. All pills are placebos." My brother remarked to me, "What is interesting about that?" and he then proposed perhaps one the most mysteriously genius ideas that Höller could certainly take a hint from: "Please take one. All pills are placebos. Except for one."

Best of 2011

I have to say, 2011 wasn't a year where I found much luck in love (with art at least). I flirted with it, went on some blind dates, had some late nights where I kept going to gallery after gallery stumbling through a sea of artists and exhibitions and fairs, taking numbers even though I didn't plan on calling back. However, being the year of the rabbit, I keep feeling like all of this is building up to something incredible, like we've been trying to follow the bushy tail of the art bunny, and once we chase it through the bushes, we'll find ourselves full blown in the year of the dragon, with new exhibitions, movements, and probably some real (and controversial) manifestos. Okay, so enough with the metaphors....Here is my TOP TEN of 2011 (in no particular order):


STORM KING SCULPTURE PARK

A 500-acre sanctuary where sculptures go to live. The park is speckled with hundreds of sculptures, both massive and miniature. Sculptures for sitting, for viewing, for climbing, for feeling. Sculptures that become part of the land, and sculptures that stick out like alien monuments. Viewing art in open air is always more refreshing. Moreover, the rolling hills gave me a sense of giddiness similar to swimming in the ocean for the first time. If I wasn’t already dizzied and in awe of the tremendous works of art that surrounded me in such a beautiful setting, then rolling down the giant hills like a toddler certainly did.


MICHAEL MAHALCHICK PERFORMANCE AT TANDEM BAR

I had the privilege of seeing Michael Mahalchick perform as part of the Movement Research Festival last spring. Along with Mahalchick's understated and hilarious performance, I was delighted by Brian Belott's orchestration of a vocally competitive, intense debate in gibberish (before 2011's Performa of the absurd), as well as the graceful, choreographic expressions of the no doubt beautiful women of the Kate Bush Dance Troupe.


JACK STRANGE AT TONYA BONAKDAR

Deep down, I think most people go see an art exhibition for the reasons of pure entertainment. In Deep Down, Strange's solo-exhibition at Tonya Bonakdar this year, the artist succeeds in making art fun, as well as making fun of his art. At the entrance of the exhibition, a series of American $1 - $100 bills are cut up and collaged into peculiar, funny little characters; a light gesture towards a grand metaphor comparing money with the absurd. The rest of the show was just as quirky with ipod-touch devices looping videos of a computer-animated shark and a dolphin reciting dada-isms, submerged in plastic bags, just like a prize goldfish from the county fair. The sliced heads of a cornucupia of vegetables are sprung into action with cartoon motion lines, and fruit pits are presented as auditory beings, something that no one can actually see or hear. The sound installation, Staring into Seeing, was one of the most immediately disorienting and astonishing works of art I've seen all year. After listening to it, and participating (which is voluntary, as viewer can listen and hear the track, but one must actively choose to participate), I literally left the gallery feeling dizzy, confused, and somehow, enlightened — as well as lightened up.


JACQUES LOUIS VIDAL AT MARC JANCOU

See review from March here!





THE VIEW FROM THE VOLCANO: THE KITCHEN'S SOHO YEARS, 1971-85 AT THE KITCHEN

I came here in the middle of summer on one of those hot, sweaty days where the best idea isn't to go swimming at the beach or a city pool, but to bask in the refreshing AC-pumped galleries of Chelsea. This exhibition provided the opportunity to view rare and important video works and film, as well as video and photographic documentation of groundbreaking performances that took place at the Kitchen in this time period. I was honored to be able to see Elizabeth Streb's Fall Line (1982) and Two Moon July, and multi-artist, multi-disciplinary program originally produced for television in 1986. The last time I was able to sit down and have access to a collection like this was when I interned for EAI!


EDWARD BURTYNSKY, Dryland Farming, AT BRYCE WOLKOWITZ (especially when compared to Andreas Gursky at Gagosian)

I want to own one of these. I have long admired the work of Andreas Gursky (see review from 2007!), but compared with the concurrent show at Gagosian Gallery this fall, Burtynsky wins my vote for the best aerial photography this year. Compared to Gursky's self-titled show, Dryland Farming, takes the politics of environmental issues into account on a more intimate scale, using color, composition, and texture to communicate a more immediate emotion.



PETER NADIN AT GAVIN BROWN'S ENTERPRISE

Forget aesthetics, formal composition, use of materials, concept...Peter Nadin's enchanting exhibition at GBE was my favorite smelling exhibition of the year. Besides the earthy smell fresh carved wood wafting throughout the gallery from the small forest of plinths holding terra cotta sculptures, the final gallery held an enormous shallow pool filled with honey. The robust, yet sweet, smell could easily be unconsciously nauseating if one mistook the thick, black substance for tar or another caustic material. If the smell wasn't enough, fresh honey (from Nadin's actual, working farm, Old Field Farm) was actually available for sale in a pop-up market in the back end of the gallery (where I must add sold some of the most delicious eggs I've ever tasted).



CARLOS CRUZ DIEZ AT AT SIMON BOLIVAR INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

If spending a week in Venezuela wasn't enough of a mind-fuck for a Midwestern girl like me, then getting dropped off at the airport and seeing this was just the cherry on the cake.



FILM: MELANCHOLIA & THE TREE OF LIFE & UNCLE BOONMEE WHO CAN RECALL HIS PAST LIVES


Although I certainly made good use of my Netflix this year, marking checks on my "Films to See" list, knocking them down like flies in a cinematic marathon, I still found time to make it to the theater. This year, 2011, was all about the visual. These three films needn't have a plot or script, so long as I could see them. I have often said that my number one criteria in determining a good film is that if you take a screenshot of any frame in the entire film, if it would make a beautiful photograph, then it will make a beautiful film (I'd like to do this with Blood Simple, or Casino). Visual mediations.... Each frame, each second, is deliberate and thought out in these films. Bravo Lars Von Trier, Terrance Mallick, and Apichatpong Weerasethakul.


STUDIO VISITS
I had the privilege to be invited into many artists' studios this year, for conversation and dialogue on their work, my work, other artists' work, current events, pop culture, and the weather. Nothing is more magical than experiencing an artist's work where it is made, and for an artist to reveal their true intentions of how it should be viewed, why it was made, and what will come from it in the future. I also love to experience the variety of their studios. Some are chaotic with tools everywhere, dry mold and pastes on the wall, paint splattered in every crevice. Others are impeccably organized, spick-and-span, not a paint brush to be found. Some artists use massive power tools, while others use only a laptop. Thank you for inviting me into your world, for your hospitality. I hope for many more in 2012!



MY REGRETS
I am kicking myself for not seeing:
THE CLOCK BY CHRISTIAN MARCLAY AT PAULA COOPER
I dreamed about coming to the gallery at 2am to meditate with this piece. Regrettably, I was actually dreaming.

ROBERT IRWIN AT PACE
Oh Bob (can I call you Bob?), you are my dream artist. Unfortunately, I was too nervous to come over and see you this year.

RYAN TRECARTIN AT PS1
I know I would have had a lot of fun at this show, as I do with all of Trecartin's work. Thankfully, some of my best friends had a psychedelic, spiritual experience with these installations, and I will never hear the end of it.

GREEN GALLERY, MILWAUKEE, WI
For being a Wisconsinite, I can't believe I still haven't made it back to visit one of the most talked about young contemporary art galleries in the US.

Oliver Warden

A young woman rounds the corner and catches a glimpse of her reflection in a full-length mirrored box. Attracted to this, she stops to make sure her bangs are okay, and notices that the mirror also has a switch, at perfect doorbell height. Curious, she flips the switch, only to immediately jump back, letting out a half scream, half laugh. She might be going crazy, she thinks, but she swears she just saw her reflection change into that of a man’s. Intrigued, she presses the switch a second time, and registers the flashing image of him again. Sure enough, inside the two-way mirror is a man, about 6’, standing at the ready, in a grey suit with a black tie. He has the appearance of James Bond, but the moxy of Elvis Presley vis-à-vis Andy Warhol’s prints. This man also has an identically placed switch on his side of the mirror. While the young woman can turn on the light, revealing the man, he has the power to turn the light off. The young woman giggles, fascinated by her power, yet she still feels the need to touch the switch again, and sees the opportunity to compete; a game ensues. She continuously turns on the light, as fast as she can, trying to reveal the man, to find out who he is, and what he looks like. He is calm and quick to the switch; she is relentless. She giggles more and more, and he remains stone cold 007, intensely staring into her eyes. You can see he is sweating, somewhat annoyed yet maintaining his authority, which fuels this woman’s sadistic tendencies even more. Who will win?

Eventually, she grows tired of hitting the switch so many times, hoping to tire him out, hoping to see him give up. He finally breaks, and the two individuals share a moment of recognition. She backs away, and he turns the light off, deviously waiting in the dark box for the next person to discover the game. The man is Oliver Warden, a Brooklyn-based painter, photographer, performance artist, and videogamer (of all things). The performance, Untitled Box 2.0, is a concept that was originally devised in 1993 (as Untitled Box) while the artist was in school, and realized for the second time nearly 20 years later in November 2010 at Physical Center, a night of performance and installation at Former Convent of Saint Cecilia in Brooklyn, NY. The piece was performed most recently at School Nite, an exhibition in partner with the New Museum’s Festival of Ideas in May 2011, in Manhattan. Untitled Box 2.0 is a piece that speaks directly to the viewer’s most immediate feelings of art viewing: surprise, mystery, and humor. From another point of view, Untitled Box 2.0 is about many things: pop art, masochism, the Internet & social networking and analogous topics like voyeurship and surveillance, as well formal themes such as the artist/viewer interaction.

Firstly, it is inescapable to draw comparisons of Oliver Warden’s performance in Untitled Box with Andy Warhol’s screenprinted paintings of Elvis Presley, posing as his character, Pacer Burton, in The Flaming Star (1960). Both men are positioned in an at-the-ready stance, feet slightly wider than shoulder-width distance, one hand drawn (either with a pistol or to flip the light switch), and sporting a wide-eyed, determined gaze. Warhol, the master of Pop Art, explored pop culture through celebrity iconography and multiplicity in advertising. Warden, on the other hand, is not working within with these themes; rather, the majority of his body of work deals with pop technology, such as gaming, virtual reality, and social networking. Therefore, only formal comparisons can be drawn, however the similarities are undeniable.




Oliver Warden (b. 1971, Cleveland, Ohio) is a multidisciplinary artist, working both in the realms of contemporary art and technology. When online, he goes as his avatar name, ROBOTBIGFOOT. The majority of his body of work is inspired by and culled from his experiences in the virtual world, as he spends about 40 hours a week inside the realms of Counter-Strike, Left 4 Dead, and various independent titles. It can be said that Warden essentially, and by 21st Century definition, lives in two worlds: online and off. His paintings, ranging in size of 1 ft to 21 ft canvases, are made by a unique process of pouring Galkyd onto canvas laid horizontally in his Bushwick studio. The semi-transparent and glossy layers build over each other in intricate and elaborate geographies, creating an effects-driven and technologically mediated super-world. His cameraless-photography is created on his computer, in virtual spaces. One series that I find especially innovative shows the “edge of world” in the video game Tribes; Warden literally played the game until there were no more challenges or objectives to complete, and after reaching the literal end of the map (where the playable area stops), he took thousands of screen shots. The results are works on paper, presented as pixelated photographs. His performance pieces are the third factor of his work, creating a complete balanced and intentional body. Inspired by his interactive experiences, he built a body of work around notions of privacy, voyeurship and control. Stalking people in Central Park at midnight and “capturing” them on video, living in a school wall for a week and pulling covert ops at night and sitting inside a chair as unknowing sitters sat on his lap, all challenged and occasionally broke the rules of engagement and participation.





How is Untitled Box 2.0 different in 1993 and 2010? How did it change over the years, and why is is relevant that Warden first performed the piece in 1993? The piece was conceived at the cusp of the Internet-era, before terms like social media, tweeting, and skyping was common language. The idea was inspired by a culture that was exploding with hype about interactivity, and increased immediacy in national and international communication. Today, there are countless scholars writing novels and textbooks about extracting a movement or shift in contemporary thinking and philosophies in the Internet age. 20 years ago, we were wondering what possibilities the Internet would bring; today, we are wondering how it is adversely impacting our society, and how far it’s going to go. In the early 90s, most people still had private lives, or rather, one life. Today, in 2011, we have our real lives, and our virutal lives. We have our real address, and our email address; our job history, and our google-search engine history; our real friends and our facebook friends. Most dramatically, in the nineties, most people could only imagine the possibility of meeting strangers in chatrooms, calling a friend via videocam, or being able to meet up with (real) friends, in physical spaces, by ‘checking in’ or ’shouting out’. It was the beginning of a millennial phenomenon to put oneself out into the virtual world, with little concern for privacy or emotional repercussions.

At the beginning, these ideas were novel, intriguing, and we waited with impatience. Today, there is a general feeling of paranoia with applications like foursquare, facebook, or Chatroulette; if you are present in the Internet community (even the most in-active kind of member), you are never alone, and you can never be alone. With Untitled Box 2.0, Warden reduces interactivity to its most essential components: on-off, you-me, inside-outside. The result is something everyone can understand and participate with – a base language, a fundamental duality, a bit code. Like a computer code that is written between the artist and participant, our interaction makes the work have a life, and therefore content, that exists for as long as the two parties work to keep it alive. Essentially, Untitled Box 2.0, is about the Internet and social media at its most fundamental form: we are reaching out to each other, at a distance, but who has the control and how do we know when is the right time to stop?

You can learn a lot about a person by seeing how they interact with Untitled Box 2.0. Even though the viewer can turn on the light in the box whenever they want and how often they want to, Warden acts as the ultimate eye. He can watch people in the room when they can’t see him, he can watch their reactions, and hear what they have to say. He can see the viewer/participator, even when they aren’t even aware that he is inside the box. He can see their reaction, their facial expressions and body language, their insecurites and their character. They make themselves vulnerable to his surveillance (although, as a participant has control of the switch, it is easy to prematurely conclude that one has control over the artist). Often, he loses this power to aggressive participators, sometimes for minutes on end. The result for him is a bombardment of light and noise and burning 500 Watt lamps, which sometime reach a tortuous state. Warden however stays silent; so many viewers forget or fail to acknowledge that he is listening to them. On facebook, there is a questionable and interesting feature called Poke or Poking. It allows you to call someone’s attention by virtually “poking” him or her. In a way, it feels like Warden is humanizing the facebook experience, by making this “poking” function real and physically participatory. The resulting experience creates heightened emotions, both in excitement and awkwardness, embarrassment and empathy.

Oliver Warden will be performing Untitled Box 2.0 twice this week, on Sat, Oct 29 at the Gowanus Studio Space from 9pm – 4am and again on Mon, Oct 31, at The Delancey, from 8pm – 1am. Additionally, his paintings can be seen in two upcoming group exhibitions, at Allegra LaViola, Die Like You Really Mean It, opening on Oct 26, and at Camel Art Space, in Space Over Time, opening Nov 4.

Glutton for Video Art

Read full post, a review on Glutton for Punishment at Ramis Barquet Gallery HERE on ArtcardsReview.

Interview: ART BLOG ART BLOG

Joshua Abelow set out to create a personal, visual archive through his blog, ART BLOG ART BLOG, but within a year he was getting up to 900 hits a day from over 125 countries. Less than two years later, the blog has materialized into a physical, artist-run gallery space, ART BLOG ART BLOG, with nine independently curated exhibitions, open through October 29, in a donated space located in Chelsea at 508 West 26th St, Floor 11.

Abelow is a young artist, who after receiving his BFA in Painting from the Rhode Island School of Design in 1998, decided to move to New York. Before moving, he wrote a letter (yes, by post) to Ross Bleckner, an artist whose work he discovered and admired while in school. About a month after Abelow moved to Bushwick in 1999, Bleckner offered him a job as a studio assistant. For the next seven years Abelow worked for Bleckner before moving on to obtain his MFA from the Cranbrook Academy of Art in Bloomfield Hills, MI. After a few more stops down the road and all over the world, Abelow ended up back in his hometown outside Baltimore, MD. ART BLOG ART BLOG emerged in early 2010 as an important way for Abelow to build a community over the web and engage with artists in other cities. Now back in New York, Abelow maintains his blog as a diaristic visual journal, with daily posts including other artists’ work, book and album covers, posters, personal work and personal photographs, poems and quips, and more. I had a chance to sit down with Joshua Abelow, as well as the curators of the upcoming exhibition, Can I Get a Witness? to find out more about the project.

Amanda: How did you start the blog? Where do you find your material for the blog?
Joshua Abelow: I never blogged before I started ART BLOG ART BLOG, in fact, to me, blogging seemed like a silly thing to do, even “blog” is a funny word. I guess I never set out to create a “blog” so much as an archive, a means of keeping a visual journal for myself. It’s a way for me to engage and document what is being made around me and to share this information with others.

I find a lot of material simply by sifting through my emails. I am on the mailing lists of a lot of galleries, so I often find out about other artists’ works through the Internet. The material I post is a mix of other artists’ work and my own personal contributions. I take a diaristic approach to posting...I see it as a visual radio show and in that sense it is important for me to update the site regularly. It also gives me something to do when I’m waiting for paint to dry and I don’t feel like sharpening pencils or stretching canvases or whatever.

I find the blog format interesting because of the immediacy. Instant contact with a relatively wide audience is the exact opposite of what it’s like to be alone in the studio all day. I was very surprised when I realized the blog had a following, that other people were actually visiting the site on a regular basis.

Do you read other blogs? Also, I find a lot of art-related blogs to be criticism-based; do you read any art criticism?
I look at a few other blogs like, AH HOLE AH HOLE (published, or rather curated by Tisch Abelow and Dakatoh Savage), which I find to be very humorous and clever. It is more like an art project than a blog – I’d love to see it projected on a big wall every morning when I wake up. I also look at ANABA, KCLOG and HKJBLOG regularly.

As for art criticism, I like to read what my peers’ are writing. I enjoy 16 Miles of String, (Andrew Russeth) because it’s art criticism from a younger point of view and he covers a lot of stuff that bigger publications overlook.



How did “ART BLOG ART BLOG”, the blog, turn into “ART BLOG ART BLOG,” the gallery?
Ross Bleckner invited me to use his studio space to organize some shows for the summer and fall. Rather than make it some sort of ego trip, I decided to make it a group effort and share the opportunity with as many people as possible. I’ve invited several individuals and groups to curate shows in the space. Jon Lutz (Daily Operation), NUDASHANK, and Regina Rex have all presented exhibitions in the space thus far. I picked them because I’m a fan of their work and I wanted to see what they would do with the Chelsea space and I thought other people would want to see as well.

It’s funny and interesting to see a blog go 3D. The exhibition space is a direct extension of the blog, which is why I gave it the same name. There’s a lot of hard work going into this and, of course, it would not be possible without Ross’s generosity (thank you Ross!). It would also not be possible without all of the talented people involved. The spirit of the project is one of generosity: the space was a gift from one artist to another, which is a gift to many other artists. It’s exciting to be exhibiting work by both emerging and established artists, unknowns mixed in with bigger names. In a way, this is reflective of the Internet – a weird flattening device that levels the playing field. This project, both the blog and the gallery, provides me with a chance to examine this moment as we proceed further into the 21st century.



Amanda: In Can I Get a Witness? Who are the artists involved? What sort of work can the viewer expect to see (painting, video, etc)?

Tisch Abelow / Jashin Friedrich / Dakotah Savage: We are exhibiting works by Joshua Abelow, Matt Connolly and Joachim'YoYo' Friedrich. We also have a reading corner featuring artists books by Kevin Gallagher, Lukas Geronimas, The Kingsboro Press, Davida Nemeroff and Eric Veit.

How was the show curated? How did the three of you work together to create a cohesive exhibition?

We started with a long list of potential artists, originally thinking of having a larger group exhibition. As we narrowed down the candidates, we realized we wanted to have a smaller show to highlight specific artists and their work. It became clear that Matt, Josh, and YoYo's work cosmically related. We found it interesting that the artists whose work was the strongest together happened to be 'the men in our life.' The curatorial process came about only in the most natural way. Including the reading corner is a way for us to support other emerging artists we admire and because punk lives.

Like, Josh, I imagine the ART BLOG ART BLOG space as a physical manifestation of the blog. How does Can I Get a Witness? relate to the Internet? Can you draw any comparisons?

Art Blog Art Blog--the blog- is a continuous parade of images of art; it brings the viewer daily, sometimes hourly, updates- a self-creating, ever-evolving context. We don't see Can I Get A Witness? relating to the Internet per se except, perhaps, in an inverse way-- If anything, an exhibition with actual art hung on actual walls is in opposition to the pervasive virtuality of today. There are, however, visual parallels between our show and our blogs, especially AH HOLE AH HOLE, which emphasized repetitive color, shape and text.

Do you read any blogs?

We read ART BLOG ART BLOG, Jashin's Tumblr and AH HOLE AH HOLE, which is co-curated by Dakotah and Tisch.




Can I Get a Witness? curated by Tisch Abelow, Jashin Friedrich, and Dakotah savage, opening on Thursday, July 14, will be the fourth exhibition at ART BLOG ART BLOG. Abelow plans to have five more shows through October 29. Up next for Joshua Abelow is a solo exhibition at Tomorrow Gallery in Toronto, Canada, who will also be publishing the book, “Painter’s Journal," a diaristic journal in six parts about Abelow’s experience as a young artist moving to New York at the turn of the century.

ART BLOG ART BLOG is located at 508 West 26th Street, Fl 11. Hours: Wednesday-Saturday, 12-6pm. More info: www.artblogartblog.com

"I Wonder What They Meant," May 7 at 233 Mott St

Bad Timing, Good Shows in the LES

I've had bad timing with viewing some recent exhibitions in the Lower East Side. I want to be able to write about the fantastic shows that I saw in order to encourage others to go and experience the same, however, they all seem to be closing this week!

I was lucky enough to catch Maria Petschnig at On Stellar Rays, which had already been extended through March 19. In the video, De Niña a Mujer, the viewer is invited into the apartment of Viktor, a Russian New-Yorker who produces elaborately-staged (yet with a low production value) softcore porn. The Russian women, who also include Petschnig, appear comfortable and relaxed with the gentle, even silly man as he helps them put on, shall I say unique, costumes. Oddly enough, this is the sort of behind-the-scenes behavior I would expect on the set of a pornography, whether softcore or hardcore. The relationship between Viktor and the woman is desexualize, and almost familial. Although Viktor’s final product is a photograph, which seems cold and distant compared to the more intimate moments between producer and actress/model that Petschnig captures in this video.





At Dodge Gallery, sculptures by Robert de Saint Phalle and pseudo-paintings by Jane Fox Hipple both delighted and intrigued me to learn more about both artists. The gallery press release describes Hipple's work better than I could in that she "works with all of the familiar criteria that denote painting for painting’s sake: oil, egg tempera, rectilinear frames, flat surfaces, wall-hung pieces." It is obvious through these canvases that Hipple is having fun. With shades of soft blues, hazy purples, and juicy pinks, she paints on the frame, outside of the canvas, and on top of objects that she places within them. Saint Phalle’s sculptures are on the other hand, are more structural and obtuse, yet they are not aggressive. In a way, seem to be three-dimensional literary devices, telling a story between their material and form. A glossy, black plane intersects a sleek, modernist bench. Within this plane is a oddly shaped chasm letting light in from one side, only to land upon a slack cloth already mimicking the possible reflection of the spectrum, were the sun to enter at a perfect angle. If that description seems abstract or ambiguous, then I have accurately described the formal aspects of the works on view. More mid-scale sculptural works are on view Blackston Gallery, where Rachel Beach presents a geometric collection of reconstituted, resituated wood sculptures. The strong verticality of the works, made of plywood and old wood beams, suggest statues or human forms.



One exhibition that you'll still have time to see is Alison Knowles, Clear Skies All Week, on view at James Fuentes LLC through April 3. Upon first view of the multimedia works on view (assemblages made of old shoes, pieces of driftwood, handmade paper, and other found materials), I was impressed that this young artist (I thought maybe in their 20s) was able to capture an authentic sense of nostalgia. It almost seemed West Coast, like the type of visual cues that could accompany a Brautigan novel. This is why I never read press releases or CVs before viewing an exhibition -- for that element of surprise! I didn't realize that these were new works by the Fluxus artist who is now in her late seventies. Knowing the age of this artist (rather than the history of her artistic career and her taste for tunafish & buttermilk shakes), rendered the works more gentle, genuine, and charismatic.

Dr. Gnass's Prophecies

Friedrich Schroder-Sönnenstern: From Barefoot Prophet to Avant-Garde Artist
Michael Werner Gallery
March 16 – April 30, 2011

An exhibition of twenty-eight truly incredible, even mind-boggling, drawings by an obscure outsider artist was hardly what I expected to find in the parquet-floored galleries of the Upper East Side. First of all, I must preface that I abhor the term “outsider art,” but Schroder-Sönnenstern certainly was never in the ‘front line’ of his contemporaries, and after a little research, I came to learn that he was socially obscure and ostracized. This is visible in his drawings on view (all pencil and colored pencil on cardboard), which are strange and fantastical. As Jean Dubuffet would describe Art Brut (or Outsider Art), these drawings were created from “unselfconscious imagery born of pure, uninhibited expression.”



Schroder-Sönnenstern’s imagery is so unique and bizarre that, as the press release illustrates perfectly, they seem to have been born forth from his mind without iconographic precedent. If these drawings had been made today, it may not have been such a shocker, but imagining an adult making these in the 1950s is a marvelous thought indeed. Schroder-Sönnenstern (b. 1892, Lithuania) was misdiagnosed as schizophrenic at a young age, briefly institutionalized and later arrested. In his late 20s, he created a new identity for himself as Professor Dr. Eliot Gnass von Sonnenstern, a holistic healer and fortuneteller who, rather than keeping any profits, supposedly donated to the poor. He spent much time in jail for various violations, yet it wasn’t until 1949 that he began to draw. (I would suggest reading the press release or the catalog to learn about his life in further detail).

A poly-ocular creature rendered from multiple viewpoints breathes a stream of fire towards the edge of the paper in The Mass Demon (1954). Its brightly colored rainbow scales signify that it is a sort of fish rising from water, yet with one human arm it holds a cane, suggesting that it may also reside on solid ground. Nothing is either here nor there in these scenarios. A toothy serpent either devours or makes loves to an exaggeratedly cleft-chinned, duck-footed (literally) woman in The Jealousy Tragedy, (1956). In Vitanovaseturine, (1951/52) a rotund, winged woman defecates into a glass jar already occupied by a cartoonish heart symbol. Upon the objects and in the margins are scrawled words that may be a narrative, commentary, or perhaps prophecies. What did Schroder-Sönnenstern (or Dr. Gnass) mean to communicate with these drawings? Were they images of personal fantasies, or perhaps pedagogical illustrations meant to convey a particular message?



Works that are heavy with text such as Monument of the Dead(1951/52) bring to mind other ‘prophets’ who conveyed their messages through drawing such as Royal Robertson. Although Robertson made his maniacal, biblically prophesiable drawings in Louisiana mainly in the 60s and 70s, there are formal and thematic similarities between their works.



In The Moon-Moralistic Veneration of the Artist's Bones, (1957) the artist looks introspectively at his life after death. On his right side, a dog-fish on wheels offers him poison, and on his left, a woman offers food while a dog, or feline creature, offers money. A primate serves him as his feet, while a serpent with an inner-eye resides below. I do not believe that a conclusion really be drawn from any of these clusters of symbols, and rather that one can appreciate these incredible scenarios as just something that is beyond one’s individual comprehension.