Archive for the ‘art’ tag
Twenty is as does…
Why does it seem like some alarm is going off over and over?
Spent way too much time entering urls, because I got obsessed when I should have just delegated.
That was a good salad I made my way through this evening; spinach, avocado, beans, greens.
Creativity is frightening, overwhelming; the best art instruction should strive not to domesticate that information.
Frightening because it is the engine of change.
The way to handle such change is to make it habitual, to internalize and observe it daily.
That’s the way I’d do it if I were superhuman.
Here are the pleasures of comic book narrative: the continuing opening and stitching up of narrative loops; the greater distance encompassed by the stitch, the greater the pleasure.
We enjoy seeing a pattern emerge from a great distance.
It’s reassuring.
The TV tells me “The snow is already falling” and I look out of the window to see that it’s true.
Yes, the streets are dusted.
I miss snuggling with Lehigh who is being well looked after by my Mom.
In the space between lines, between sentences, between all too stolid thoughts is a challenge to what I know.
Step into that challenge.
This morning I read Toni Bentley’s review of Catherine Millet’s book Jealousy in the New York Times and while I haven’t read the book in question, I found the smirking triumphalism if the review repulsive.
It looks like I’m going to be doing a show in New Zealand, and if so I’ll be heading there to install it.
Yes, I’ll check beneath every sheep for hobbits.
And now to clear more floor space.
Tags: art, daily photo, reading, twenty sentencesRelated posts
Please may I have another twenty?
This morning’s dream involved Dennis Cooper telling me about the fantastic rents he was getting from a tenant on some Los Angeles industrial space.
Yesterday I stopped in at an art opening in Chinatown, too early to see D, but in time to feel hemmed in by the crowd, and thus shy.
In a way, I’m relieved that there are entire sections of the art world that I have no connection with.
Ah, Chrissie Hynde can sing “Stop Your Sobbin”, but the way she does so makes me want to sob all the more.
Clothes are still on the floor, but they at least sorted into piles, and a load of laundry is done.
The schedule doesn’t look much clearer into the foreseeable future, but I have taken some steps to getting help with it.
Little headache right now, from both the caffeine and squinting at screens through the glasses.
I’m going to break the TV embargo to watch RuPaul’s Drag race tonight.
Today i was remembering the time when my parents allowed me to join The Science Fiction Book Club.
Of course, the books piled up faster than I could send them back, which lead to my first experiences with unexpectedly high bills.
These sentences are uninspired in their construction and cadence.
I often find myself sighing over pictures of furry young men these days in a way that seems to encompass a despair of possessing them; yet this mooning isn’t coupled with any real desire to spend more time around people.
I mean, I’m kinda booked up.
When I feel dissatisfied with what I’ve got in such a generalized way, it usually means that there is some other psychological crisis going on and that I’m merely fixing on that point of dissatisfaction because I can’t or won’t look at the root cause.
I’m suddenly craving croissants with butter and raspberry preserves.
Apple’s “Genius” playlist software can’t understand the simple notion of “contrast”.
I woke feeling partly shocked at Dennis’s venality in my dream and partly ashamed at thinking ill of him, even as an unconscious symbol.
These days it’s about balancing and filtering the input.
I feel like Julianne Moore in “Safe”.
Or something else: a hypochondriac who doesn’t really want to make a fuss.
Tags: art, daily photo, emotions, music, twenty sentencesRelated posts
Twenty sentences that won’t change your life.
There’s a little something around my sinuses that feels like it could be a cold.
Last night’s flight home was smooth and undersold, which meant that I had two seats to slump into while I read a copy of The Age of American Unreason that I had picked up at the Nashville Airport.
It turns out I really did lose my Panasonic Lumix somewhere around the Austin Peay campus Tuesday night, so I can’t show you any pictures of the polaroids of hot hunters from the Bar B Q shack’s “Brag Wall”, because those pictures were on the SD card in the camera.
Coming back to work after being in such a different environment is always like taking a leap onto a moving train.
These days, one of the only constants in my life is my tumblr account.
It was snowing pretty seriously around my block this morning but I bet it’s all gone now.
I worry that I’m losing the capacity for sustained thought, but then I’ve been having that worry for the past twenty years or so.
In his book David Antin told an excellent story of how Herbert Marcuse ended up not teaching at my alma mater, CalArts.
Simply because someone has progressive political views, it does not automatically follow that they will have progressive views about art making or how art functions in society.
If as a student, you work hard, I’m not worried about whether or not you share my opinions or already know a lot; I know you’ll get to something interesting.
Right now, much of the art infrastructure that I knew in my youth is simply not producing much of interest.
Yes, I’m getting old: the cycles of excitement no longer seem unique to me.
The most interesting thing so far in Susan Jacoby’s book is her quick history of the American Lyceum movement, the TED lectures of the late 19th century.
I’m only a third of the way through the book.
I don’t have a business plan, or much of a plan plan for that matter.
I’m getting tired of my office knick-knacks, meaning it may be time for some redecorating.
“Never enough coffee” is not a sentence, unfortunately.
Right now, making art is, for me, like licking the contacts on a nine volt battery: tantalizing, a little painful, always calling me back and yet producing the smallest flop of sickness in my stomach’s pit, a sensation that feels like a warning.
Hey, I know some sexy people.
My back-up camera is nice and does some things very well, but I’ve been spoilt.
Tags: art, camera, daily photo, musings, readingRelated posts
Free art Friday…
Opted out of of Black Friday to see some art with Dominic. We went over to LIC and checked the shows at PS1. There was a contemporary sculpture show that had some good word by some folks associated with Bard: Marc Swanson, Robert de Saint Phalle, and Penelope Umbrico. Upstairs was the Big 1969 show where we ran into my friends Renny and Judy. I found some inspiration in the documents of Scott Burton’s Streetworks, but the show as a whole seemed pretty subdued for being a representation of such a raucous time.
After a lunch at the diner during which we disagreed about the merits of the Monte Christo sandwich, we went off to the Sculpture Center to check out Mike Smith’s excellent Burning Man pisstake.
I made it home, heated and eated a holiday left-over pile, and have executed phase two of my little bit of anti-Black Friday plans: I made a bit bit of art and left it out on the street. Little anonymous gift there for somebody. makes me feel a little odd, but hopefully someone will like it.
Tags: art, big link friday, daily photo, friends, making artRelated posts
Where’d you get that idea?
I got the idea not to vote for Bloomberg today from his cavalier disregard for the laws of the city he governs, by which I mean that he is of the new breed of plutocrats who change the rules when it suits them. I’m still pissed at the city council for caving in to his decision to upend the city’s term limits law. I also got the idea from the smug nannyism that has come to characterize his tenure, which will probably extend to more than a decade of my life once the votes are counted. If the term limits laws had not been in place he most certainly would not have been elected in the first place. No doubt Giuliani would have taken a third term as mayor.
At first, I didn’t quite know where I got the idea for last night’s drawing, knowing only that time was wasting and that it had been too long since I’d done one. Sometimes there’s something very specific I want to make one about, other times like last night, I let my mind drift until it comes on an idea. What’s interesting is that although the idea just seemed to pop into my head last night, in the middle of this morning I figured out what it must have been based on:
This poster fascinated me when the movie came out in 1975 and I think that it remained lodged somewhere in my brain for all the intervening years ultimately getting mashed up with something like this Philip Guston:
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Big Link Friday: Cute is the new Angst.
Last week I mentioned The New York Art Book Fair, I went with a couple of friends on Sunday and ran into a few more and missed seeing even more. I had to be a be almost physically restrained from spending money on all the incredible stuff there, but I did splurge at Goteblud’s table on a couple of ‘zines and a great book of Japanese street photography.
The best part of the show was the collision of the zine/art project/d.i.y./comic/street art aesthetic, although it was interesting to see who was playing it cool and who was more aggressive. Seeing a bunch of vintage JDs (scroll down) and Straight to Hells made me rethink my affection for recent porn zines like Butt andPinups which utterly appeals to me visually, but finally seems a little too tidy and happy with its situation. The Pinup guys were however selling a great button with a giant dick on it.
The other strain in all this that makes me question my taste is the new crafty homespun look that is all over alt/popular culture like at this site. On a case by case basis I like most of the stuff for sale here, and I followed the link to it because I saw some teaser images of drawings that looked good to me. And I’m all for artists coming up with new ways to support themselves. But when I look over all this work I’m struck by how divorced from any sense of contention it all is. There were lots of things like that at the fair as well, where an imagery of oddball juxtaposition presented itself as the new hipster grooviness. All those overprinted silkscreen t-shirts with animal imagery.
There’s something about this that reminds me of the 70’s aftermath of 60’s radicalism, to use a lazy intellectual formula. But who am I to carp? I eat muesli every morning, if not granola. But I can’t help thinking that in a few years thrift stores will be filled with heaps of etsy derived clutter.
There certainly is something interesting in artists turning away from the mass produced high finish values of the last couple of decades of art production. This seems like a great project to me. God knows we have enough stuff that needs fixing, and that impulse is important whether it’s born of anger or not.
And until I finish my latest queerangstsexzine I’m going to teach myself something useful like scrimshaw.
PS: great collection of scrimshaw images here.
Tags: art, big link friday, craft, pop culture, zinesRelated posts
The Void and Why I Need It…
Creativity requires a void. There has to be something missing for us to want to see something new. When life is two replete, where there is no blank wall, no empty space, the urge to make anew flags and ultimately stops.
Early on in your career, you’ve made no mark on the world, it all feels blank, awaiting your voice. As time goes on it can feel crowded, choked with all too much stuff, or a comfortable, affirming mirror. Neither possibility leads to working.
The abundance of infostractions dumped in my lap by my computer keeps me from feeling what I need to be working towards in the studio. Click by click I move away from the unquiet thoughts of my own lack that prod my arm to move the pen across the page. I know so much about so many things that ungraspable, shifting bits. Why do I like to see where a show of mine is going to happen? So that I can begin to play with that blank wall in my mind. It’s something to push against, so cozy up to or to reveal in an unexpected configuration. I have to make that something happen in my workspace if I hope to get anything done. I need to see a box to put the thing in.
Tags: art, daily photo, distractions, night, notes on practice, workRelated posts
Eight for eight…
It’s taken iron determination, but I’ve done it: managed to get through another season without seeing a single complete episode of American Idol. I remember I saw about half an hour of an episode of the first season, and that was all I needed to convince me that I wanted nothing to do with the whole insane creepy enterprise. Since then it’s taken intrepid maneuvering to stay Idol free, given the relentless onslaught of William Hung, Sanjaya, et al. (I’m ashamed that I could even summon those names). So while I know that it my be frowny face time for many of you on my friends list, I also know that you can rest secure in the knowledge that the juggernaut cannot be stopped at this point and that we will be subjected to many more seasons of stellar fabrication before my personal revulsion becomes widespread enough to put an end to it. Till then I’ll cram my fingers in my eye-and-ear-holes and sit in the corner saying lalalalalalalalalala to myself.
In other news, I’ve done a little updating of my online bibliography page to reflect a couple of recent mentions in various reviews.
Last night was another interesting panel at TES, which brought in a crowd that is not often in attendance. It’s always helpful to see different faces, and as board member on duty, I unfortunately had to bring the discussion to a close way before we could have stopped. Here’s to hoping that we can have more of these kinds of talks especially since one unfortunate comment made it clear that people can sit in meetings for many years and still not hear what others are saying around them.
Tags: american idol, art, rubbish, tes, websiteRelated posts
Buy me…
The catalog from my show this past winter at Location One is finally available. Just click right here.
It’s like having me right in front of you offering incoherent explanations about what you’re looking at. And by buying it you help support a non-profit arts residency program.
Tags: art, location oneRelated posts
I have a new safeword…
The eepc is now running eeebuntu. After messing around with it on a stickdrive for a while, I decided to bite the bullet and ditch the operating system Asus shipped it with. But this is being written on the desktop. I’m seated in my office chair and Lehigh is perched on the bed, pawing at my shoulder to catch my attention.
Yesterday’s talks left me with a lot to think about.
First, the problems I have becoming a manager: Because of my training as an artist, I am used to solving problems on my own with my hands. When making work, I have If I need to get something done, I like to speak to the other people involved face to face. I tend to drop in on other people at their desks and ask for their help then and there. I’m uncomfortable with the phone and to a lesser extent with email. So I assume responsibility for every aspect of a project, but not in the sense that I can get my team to do everything I ask of them: I mean it in terms that I believe internally that I’ll do everything. This ends up limiting what I can think of in terms of projects.
Just finished reading The Other Side of Desire by Daniel Bergner. It reads just like what it is: a group of four articles that could have appeared in The New Yorker, or the New York Times Magazine. Each focuses on one personality with a different sexual kink: a foot fetishist, a sadist, a pedophile and a person with a fetish for amputees. Each person then becomes the scaffolding for Bergner’s examination of various schools of thought regarding the structure of sexual desire and the treatment of deviance. It’s all very earnest investigative journalism except where Bergner turns to rhapsody to try to capture the intensity of his subjects’ emotional lives, a ploy that makes for bumpy reading. The quartet of people are both exemplary of some idea in treatment or theory about the brain, and yet supposed to be individuals. As a narrator, Bergner tries to finesse the line that separates “nonjudgmental” from “implicated”. I was highly conscious of his emotional discomforts but left without any sense of his own introspection. The blurb from the Times says that he has a “novelist’s eye”. He certainly doesn’t have a novelist’s brain, since the the four pieces have very little to do with one another from any sort of structural view. Before the mysteries of desire, he displays convention and all of its waffling. From another book I’m reading, Pema Chodron’s Comfortable With Uncertainty: “Instead of transcending the suffering of all creatures, we move towards turbulence and doubt however we can”. To make that move and find pleasure in that turbulence is the value of sex.
From that I guess you can tell that I didn’t much care for the book.
Notes, notes, notes: I’m continually making them, but rarely taking the time to revisit them and turn them into something more substantial. Through out my current life I’m spread among many details. Someone asked me last week what I was working on, and in the larger sense I didn’t have a real answer for it. It’s time to get back to building.
Lehigh’s been walked, the rain is pouring down, and I’ve moved back to the laptop to finish this entry. Less got done today than I hoped, but that’s alright.
Tags: art, eeepc, management, reading, reflection, self destruction, sex