Eliminating the clutter

Some of these things have been sitting on my desktop for a month and they are beginning to weigh me down. I'm extricating these things here.

Hussein Chalayan's recent video, where strange men follow models and slightly flutter their garments behind them.



I think that Dana might have put this here and I think it might be her cat but I"m not entirely sure. But it makes me feel nice so here it is.



This is what happens when you type bad words into google.



It's been hard to think about anything stimulating lately, when I've just been staring at retail all day and when it's raining 24/7. When people shop they barely even think. It is frightening. They just have these vacant expressions on their faces and float around. I am constantly bumping into people that simply aren't paying attention. Are they fantasizing about all of the future that they could have with the objects in front of them? About how it will improve their quality of live forever? This photograph by Brian Ulrich looks as if it has to be staged, but I know that it is not. People constantly have this exact expression upon their faces when inside of a store.



This picture exemplifies the less fantastic reality of what the person is looking at. How can an environment like this possibly be pleasant? It obviously must be for someone or else it would'nt work as well as it does.



Here is what I've spent most of my time looking at, as opposed to art. Hopefully after this season I will get to see something a bit nicer.

Back to basics

Robert Rauchenburg's Erased De Kooning


John Baldessari

On this vein of thought, here is some phrases that Bart wrote on the blackboard in the intro to random Simpsons episodes:

THIS PUNISHMENT IS NOT BORING AND POINTLESS
I WILL NOT FAKE MY WAY THROUGH LIFE
I WILL NOT SLEEP THROUGH MY EDUCATION
I WILL NOT EXPOSE THE IGNORANCE OF THE FACULTY
I WILL NOT YELL "SHE'S DEAD" DURING ROLL CALL
I WILL NOT CELEBRATE MEANINGLESS MILESTONES
BEANS ARE NEITHER FRUIT NOR MUSICAL
"BAGMAN" IS NOT A LEGITIMATE CAREER CHOICE
I WILL NOT COMPLAIN ABOUT THE SOLUTION WHEN I HEAR IT
I DID NOT LEARN EVERYTHING I NEED TO KNOW IN KINDERGARTEN
SHOOTING PAINTBALLS IS NOT AN ART FORM
GRAMMAR IS NOT A TIME OF WASTE
IT DOES NOT SUCK TO BE YOU
"NON-FLAMMABLE" IS NOT A CHALLENGE
GENETICS IS NOT AN EXCUSE
I AM NOT CHARLIE BROWN ON ACID
VAMPIRE IS NOT A CAREER CHOICE
FISH DO NOT LIKE COFFEE
SPONGEBOB IS NOT A CONTRACEPTIVE
I WILL NOT EAT THINGS FOR MONEY

And this is just a result of the internet being it's strange animal.

Aluminum Plant Leaks in Hungary

At least they seem to be prepared for another one...

Matthew Barney / Interpol Sucks

Hurray for insomnia.



I've been wanting to make short films that involve really elaborate but seemingly pointless rituals for a while now, which is something that Matthew Barney is really good at. I know that his movies, to him, and thick and rich and a messy symbolic SOUP and it shows this thought. But I have always just enjoyed them at face value, I simply enjoy the activities that are happening and feel no real need to connect them. He simply lets the viewer be, as if you are an infant seeing something totally unrelatable. The full cremaster cycle is coming to Portland soon and I am tempted to shell out the $20 bucks to see all five of them. [Not really a bad deal at all.] I've only seen the order and Drawing Restraint 9, thanks to the MICA screening. Did you know that the legit cremaster is only an edition of 10 copies? That is nuts.

Drawing Restraint 9 is also awesome thanks to the fact that the music is ballin, thanks to the fine lady that is Ms. Bjork.

That Interpol video was trying to pull some Matthew Barney shit, but it did'nt work because Interpol stopped making good albums three records ago, the costumes are not an 80th as cool, and Ian Curtis is dead. I won't lie though the first time I watched it I thought it was kind of pretty. I'm a sucker for weird exchanges involving viscous matter. What can I say.

And why this made me think of the star, I have no idea. But here is that. Pulled from here.



I construct a five-pointed star (made of wood and wood chips soaked in 100 litres of petrol). I set fire to the star. I walk around it. I cut my hair and throw the clumps into each point of the star. I cut my toe-nails and throw the clippings into each point of the star. I walk into the star and lie down on the empty surface. Lying down, I fail to notice that the flames have used up all the oxygen. I lose consciousness. The viewers do not notice, because I am supine. When a flame touches my leg and I still show no reaction, two viewers come into the star and carry me out of it. I am confronted with my physical limitations, the performance is cut short. Afterwards I wonder how I can use my body – conscious and otherwise – without disrupting the performance.

Marina Abramovic

Tale of A Tub

This poem, by Sylvia Plath was my favorite in high school...I was just thinking about it and had to put it up. It still has maintained it's effectiveness.

The photographic chamber of the eye
records bare painted walls, while an electric light
lays the chromium nerves of plumbing raw;
such poverty assaults the ego; caught
naked in the merely actual room,
the stranger in the lavatory mirror
puts on a public grin, repeats our name
but scrupulously reflects the usual terror.

Just how guilty are we when the ceiling
reveals no cracks that can be decoded? when washbowl
maintains it has no more holy calling
than physical ablution, and the towel
dryly disclaims that fierce troll faces lurk
in its explicit folds? or when the window,
blind with steam, will not admit the dark
which shrouds our prospects in ambiguous shadow?

Twenty years ago, the familiar tub
bred an ample batch of omens; but now
water faucets spawn no danger; each crab
and octopus--scrabbling just beyond the view,
waiting for some accidental break
in ritual, to strike--is definitely gone;
the authentic sea denies them and will pluck
fantastic flesh down to the honest bone.

We take the plunge; under water our limbs
waver, faintly green, shuddering away
from the genuine color of skin; can our dreams
ever blur the intransigent lines which draw
the shape that shuts us in? absolute fact
intrudes even when the revolted eye
is closed; the tub exists behind our back;
its glittering surfaces are blank and true.

Yet always the ridiculous nude flanks urge
the fabrication of some cloth to cover
such starkness; accuracy must not stalk at large:
each day demands we create our whole world over,
disguising the constant horror in a coat
of many-colored fictions; we mask our past
in the green of eden, pretend future's shining fruit
can sprout from the navel of this present waste.
In this particular tub, two knees jut up
like icebergs, while minute brown hairs rise
on arms and legs in a fringe of kelp; green soap
navigates the tidal slosh of seas
breaking on legendary beaches; in faith
we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail
among sacred islands of the mad till death
shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.

Fabric In A Can.

Apparently this can be sprayed on, removed, then washed and reworn again?!?!

IChing/ Iturbide

I am trying to read the I Ching, and while it is impressive and charming, I simply have no idea how to apply it to my life. I suppose I can't. It's really hard to continue reading something that is merely interesting but not useful. I typically can find a use for the most esoteric of texts, I am able to bridge some sort of connection to them, but I just can't figure this one out. I guess the only reason I thought I would give it a try is because of Lucy Lippard anyway.



This image by Graciela Iturbide was just on my mind.

The Yes Men

Recently watched their documentary and it was kick-ass. I just received this image in the mail and it reminded me of it.



Survivaballs!





Their most epic stunt thus far:



Here is their website. If I ever become rich, I am going to give them half of my money because they will probably put it to better use than I ever will.

Danny Treacy

Suprisingly there was something at first thursday this month that I enjoyed more than Nina Katchadourian's Sorted Books, which I expected to be much more exciting in person than they actually were. Don't get me wrong, the photographs were impeccable sharpness and quality, presented in an interesting way [bright red walls! gutsy!] but as soon as I saw some of the actual sculptures of the books it just flattened the expierence, ironically enough.

Anyway, what I loved were these enormous prints by Danny Treacy at Blue Sky. He finds discarded clothing from a site, then melds it together into these bodysuits that he photographs himself wearing. Some are more discordant than others, but they always cover the entire form. These nearly humorous polyglots of multiple textiles are displayed among less decayed objects, the latter of which hold much more eeriness. Although the prints were stunning, I found his performance of sewing and actually wearing these garments to me more intriguing. Each image is titled "Them" and his entire body is obscured in each image. Had he photographed the garments as lifeless sacks, the dynamic would've changed completely for me.

Who Knows? Kiki and LB

I am into these french movie background songs right now.



I saw this Kiki Smith exhibit at the Henry Art Gallery in seattle and the only part of it that I really got into was the books. There is this dialogue between sculpture and photography that has been going on for a while now, but the sort of dialogues that were taking place in many of these photographs seemed forced. In the enlargements especially. Smaller snapshots forming a barrier between the floor and the wall worked much better and felt really casual. There is something really raw and unfinished about Kiki that I can't help but like; although for some reason I can't help but continusly compare her to my beloved LB. Louise has a similar rawness but her approach melts together into a polished piece in the end. Kiki does not really do that for me yet.

Ok so I am in Portland Now

And this is what happens when you search Portland art:



Oh no.

To help me cope, here are some images involving food.



Corin Hewitt



Marcus Gaab



Emily Keegin

And two sculptures involving blue blobs. I swear the next post will be more articulate.



Carl Ostendarp



Ernesto Neto

The Small Glass / Lynda Benglis / The Sparrow Looks Up At The Machine

I am not sure how I feel about this.



At one fourteen here OH MY GOODNESS that is some exciting vocals.



Blat by Lynda Benglis.





This girl was in my dream last night, it was really strange and specific, but it was definitely the naked girl in this video. Worse than even having one's finger and toe sliced in this manner would be the removal of that ductape later. Wow. Anyway, something about this video, for it's conscienceless, weirdness, and simplicity has it eroding my brain away.

...I don't usually edit but, I just found this and could'nt help but see the uhh...connection of weird things happening with razors? I am so bad at this blogging stuff! ahahaaaa.



And yes, idiot, it's a joke. And was the slog's lunchtime quickie. Oh, taking things out of context!

Tauba Auerbach

These are acrylic on canvas paintings.

That's that

Also on the topic of artists making stupid things for fashion companies

Anish Kapoor's Mother as a Mountain (1985)



And the junk made for jewelery company Bulgari.

Colin Burke / Richard Prince / Be Stupid

Cyanotype of a dress form.



Richard Prince has made a line of handbags for Louis Vuitton, which I think is ironic and completely appropriate for him. I love to think that a bunch of yuppies will walk around with them having no idea as to what their context is. I think that it's a weird new trend for big fashion companies to make fun of themselves through their product. Diesel's be stupid campaign highlights this pretty well also.

AHHHHHH AHHHHHH AEGNOEINGOWEGINRSUH AMAZING

This is by Alfons Schilling. It is a camera obscura HAT. I attempted to make a camera obscura box that conformed to the body freshman year but since I was dumb, I never could figure out how to make the mechanics work properly. But making it into a hat it infinitely more hilarious. here is a link explaining it in a bit more detail. I am in love. Any way that you can combine old, b flat, cheap photography + absurd performance = bliss.

Sarah Palmer

Here is ze website.









I feel like this type of photography is so big right now, this amalgamation of weird, specific, individualized spatial experiences. Half of me is really jealous and wishes that I could make work about things so specific, but the other half of me prefers work that is much more global and vast. Yet there is a hook that this sort of work has with me. It evokes intense feelings of fake deja vu; one feels like they must have encountered this situation before even though in reality I've probably never stuck an egg inside the secret compartment of a book. Another photographer that does this successfully for me in some images is Rebecca Sittler Schrock, whom I've posted about in a past entry. That doughnut [donut?] picture gets me every time.

Wait, why exactly can you spell donut in two different ways? That's kind of messed up, I don't like either spelling. I've never really thought about it before, but it's quite a bizarre word. I think this is a sign that I need to stop typing.

Galileo Sunspot Drawings, 1612

Vanishing Point by Bonsajo

Vanishing Point from Bonsajo on Vimeo.

Word of the day: Maximalist.

Bill Morrison's Decasia

Can't do this quite the same in final cut...This is just a promo of excerpts.

Has this really been happening for almost 50 days?

Yes it has.

Here are some images from Greenpeace.

Spencer Finch: Ag

Sometimes I just really appreciate a square and a good composition.



Sonic Youth's performance of George Macuinas's Piano Piece # 13 (for Nam June Paik). Anything can be improved with the addition of Sonic Youth. Just see this cover of Iggy Pop's I wanna be your dog.



Improved, no?

Kafka's Castle

This is the best book I've read that achieves nothing. It is impressive that someone can fill that many pages without going anywhere. Truly an accomplishment.