There’s one perfect fit. And, sugar, this one is it.

Posted on November 29, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

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We saw a special exhibit at the Cleveland Museum of Art while in town for the holiday. Three of Monet’s water lilies panels were reunited for the first time in decades. I know some people are sick of Monet and his water lilies but I have to confess something. We got there when the museum opened and while standing in an empty, dimly-lit gallery in front of these three master works, I had a moment. Something washed over me. I’m not a skilled enough writer or photographer to replicate the sensation. But whatever Monet intended, for that one fleeting moment, it worked. I got it.

Cleveland owns the panel on the left. The others are in the St. Louis Art Museum and the Nelson-Atkins Museum in Kansas City, which seems idiotic when you see them together. This is clearly one painting, not three. Broken apart, they seem incomplete. Not whole.

Water Lilies (Agapanthus), c. 1915-26

I walked into the gallery and saw The Daughter sitting in front of the paintings. I thought she was talking on her cell phone and it made me blue. But she wasn’t. She was listening to the audio guide. So that’s a small victory.

I love the Cleveland Museum of Art. It’s a world-class collection that rivals those in New York, Paris or London. And that’s not one of my witty sarcasms. It’s the truth. When I walk through the galleries and see the permanent collection, it’s like visiting old friends.

Bonus track. Mysterious and haunting.

Jean-Léon Gérôme
Woman with a Veil
Bronze, c. 1891

I was unaware of stroke prevention but I already knew that coffee prevents suicide.

Art + Commerce = The Fall Auction Report

Posted on November 11, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

I look forward to these semi-annual auctions with a near mania. I find this stuff endlessly fascinating. What is art? Every time I go to the autumn and spring auction previews at Christie’s and Sotheby’s, I am forced to reexamine what I think art is and isn’t. It’s good to be nimble in your thinking. It’ll keep you young.

Keep in mind that after the auctions, these pieces pass into private collections never to be seen again. I’ll mix the sublime with the hideous. I welcome your debate and disagreement. You can click on these for detail.

I’ll start off with a genuine treasure. Even though some people find the Impressionists pedestrian, I think we can all agree that their work is important and deserves respect. And, seriously, who wouldn’t want a Monet in their dining room?

Claude Monet
Nympheas
Estimate: $30,000,000 – $50,000,000
Sold for $33,850,000

I was not a fan of Cubism until just a couple of years ago when I had it explained to me via an audio guide at a Cubism exhibit at the Met. Now I enjoy it. Always get the audio guide.

Georges Braque
Le Violon
Estimate: $12,000,000 – $18,000,000
Sold for $8,202,000

Do you know what I love about this piece? One of the materials Braque used was sand. It gives the piece a fantastic earthy quality.

Here’s another guy who people pay a lot of cash for but is considered to be marginally talented by others. Margaret Thatcher called him “that horrible man.” That’s good enough for me. I like him.

Francis Bacon
Man With Arm Raised
Estimate: $8,000,000 – $12,000,000
Sold for $10,330,000

This one is my favorite. It’s the perfect case-in-point for just how pretentious art can get. The auction catalog uses flowery language like “a shimmering arrangement of color” and “rivers of shimmering, sparkly color.”

This is part of the artist’s “spilled candy” series. I’ve included the lot description in the estimate.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres
Untitled (LA)
Green candies individually wrapped in cellophane, endless supply. Overall dimensions vary with installation.
Estimate: $5,000,000 – $7,000,000
Sold for $7,669,000

Here’s a double header. I like both of these guys but am surprised at the valuation on the Warhol. Do you know how many of those flower silk screens he did? TONS! And I love Oldenburg’s work. I’ll bet a lot of you young punks have never seen one of those typing erasers. Now we use a delete key. I love how this photo turned out.

Andy Warhol
Late Four-Foot Flowers
Estimate: $8,000,000 – $12,000,000
Did Not Sell

Claes Oldenburg
Typewriter Eraser
Estimate: $500,000 – $700,000
Sold for $1,085,000

They made a big deal out of this piece. It was mounted in a prominent place in the gallery and the estimate wasn’t made public. I have no idea who this is. Do you? I thought I knew quite a lot but it turns out I don’t know SQUAT. It’s big. You’d need a big wall to hang it on.

Lucio Fontana
Concetto Spaziale, La fine di Dio
Estimate on Request
Sold for $29,173,000

Mmmmmm. Bacon. They’re studies for portraits. Wouldn’t it be awesome if you met the subjects and their faces were actually all fucked-up like that?

Francis Bacon
Two Studies for Portrait
Estimate: $12,000,000 – $18,000,000
Did Not Sell

Here’s a nice break from all the silliness. I’m not saying it’s worth what it sold for—hell, NONE of these are worth what they sold for—but you can almost understand the point. This was one of the real blockbusters. I took a close-up and am using it as a screen saver on my phone. It’s thick and juicy.

Vincent Van Gogh
Paysage Sous un Ciel Mouvement
Estimate: $50,000,000 – $70,000,000
Sold for $54,010,000

Just look at her. Isn’t she spectacular? Her erotic submissive pose knocks me out. This was painted in 1917. Don’t you imagine people back then being reserved and sedate? Not everyone, apparently.

Amedeo Modigliani
Nu Couché
Estimate on Request
Sold for a Whopping $170,405,000

Like Jeff Koons, my feelings about Lichtenstein have vacillated throughout the years. Today, I like him. Next year? Check back with me. This nurse painting is considered a high point in his career.

Roy Lichtenstein
Nurse
Estimate on Request
Sold for $95,365,000

Here’s a abject lesson in limitation and availability. Contrast the price realized for Nurse with this one.

Roy Lichtenstein
Crying Girl
Estimate: $7,000,000 – $9,000,000
Sold for $13,381,000

Both works were executed in 1964. The difference is that Crying Girl is the fourth in an edition of five. There’s only one Nurse. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, I’d much rather hang Crying Girl.

Do you know how some people say contemporary art is garbage? From the lot description:

“Accumulation of studio refuse in Plexiglas box with lid.”

Ah! WITH the lid! That explains it. Poubelle is French for trash bin.

Arman
Grande Poubelle
Estimate: $100,000 – $150,000
Did Not Sell. Perhaps there’s hope for the art world after all.

There were some pretty decent offerings by Picasso. If he’s your guy, this was your big chance. This is the cliche Picasso style depicted when someone wants to make fun of his work. Years ago, my brother explained what Pablo was up to and that lesson stuck with me. I see it.

Pablo Picasso
Femme Assise sue une Chaise
Estimate: $25,000,000 – $35,000,000
Sold for $20,074,000

This is a harsh little Picasso. It’s awash in the colors and stylings of Picasso’s Spain. He looks like he’s sporting Orthadox Jewish Payot but I don’t think that was Pablo’s intent.

Pablo Picasso
Homme à l’épée
Estimate on Request
Sold for $22,565,000

Some art passes in and out of my favor (Koons, Lichtenstein, etc.). But I’ve never liked Cy Twombly. The auction catalog describes this mess as being “…charged with visceral energy, a deluge of hurried lines hurtles across the canvas…” which is an elegant way of saying scribbling. He used house paint, oil, crayon and pencil on canvas. It sucks.

Cy Twombly
Untitled
Estimate: $15,000,000 – $20,000,000
Sold for 17,525,000

I think these two Lichtensteins look pretty awesome together so I put in a bid for $400 for the pair. You can imagine how that went over.

Roy Lichtenstein
Interior with Yves Klein Sculpture
Estimate: $7,000,000 – $10,000,000
Sold for $6,661,000

Roy Lichtenstein
Glass V
Estimate: $1,800,000 – $2,500,000
Sold for $2,853,000 (not $400)

I’ve got a couple more—some that’ll either make you laugh very hard, make you very angry, or make you weep—but I’m going to split this into two posts.

Let’s say someone was holding a gun to a puppy and you HAD to display one of these in your home. Which one? I’m going with that Modigliani but that’s probably the last time my mother-in-law would ever visit.

Cockroach Infestation

Posted on October 27, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

This is an episode I’d forgotten about. These journals occasionally stir up memories that are best forgotten. bin3

September 6, 1995

More roaches. Not as many as before, but more. I began my death-spray campaign two weeks ago but they’re still here. I saw one crawling up the bedroom wall last night and a few in the silverware drawer this morning. I locked the cats in the bedroom and doubled-up on the insecticide. I’ve got a tremendous, pounding headache. I don’t know if it’s from breathing Black Flag Inner City Strength Formula or from cleaning up cockroach droppings all morning. My index finger hurts from holding the spray button down. I emptied the can.

There was a sick article in The Times about how there’s a plague of asthma in the Bronx. It’s an everyday occurrence to see men and woman stop on the street to catch their breath and reach into their pockets for an atomizer. Do you know what they say is causing this epidemic? An inordinate amount of cockroach feces and body parts, along with the rat and mice urine in the area.

I’m going nuclear tomorrow morning. I’m taking the cats to Cindy’s apartment and setting off a roach bomb. But if the dirty slobs who live around me don’t get their shit together, it’ll all be a big wast of time and money.

This exhibit at the Canada Gallery on Broome St. is an exercise in warped perspective. It’s going to be difficult to describe but I’ll give it my best shot. It might help to click on these and get a magnified look.

A Fall of Corners by Samara Golden starts with a walk up a short flight of stairs onto a long platform.

Along the right-side wall is a formal dining room with full-sized tables and chairs. Tables are set with white linen tablecloths, white chairs and place settings. The linens are stiff and hang as they would if the tables were on the ground. Plates and cutlery are glued to the table, the chairs are secured to the wall.

A spotlight slowly pans the scene which creates fantastic long, shifting shadows.

On the far wall is another dining room. This one, a more casual and festive buffet with blue and red checkered tablecloths and country chairs.

If you stand at the edge of the platform and look down, you’ll see a mirror. It creates an effective illusion of depth and space.

Turn towards the end of the platform and thrown into a heap in the corner is, what appears to be, a pile of rags.

Closer examination reveals the truth: Bodies. Some are ghastly and skeletal. Who are they? The diners? People who wanted to eat but couldn’t?

Running up the left wall is a living room with silver furniture and, in an especially nice touch, a Christmas tree in the corner.

By this time, I was fairly disoriented. I wish I’d know about this warped perceptive in advance. I’d have dug out my bong from the attic and REALLY prepared. Once again, look over the edge and there’s a mirror. A projector plays a movie of moving clouds and sky. You’ve got to look down to look up. See your intrepid reporter there? Hello!

I’ve often wondered what the end game is to these exhibits. I can only presume they’re for sale, since they’re in a gallery. But who is the target audience for these large works? Museums, I suppose. Fun fact: NONE of these galleries ever charge an admission. And, best of all, they don’t care if you take photos. New York is a friendly place!

I had dinner on the Lower East Side last Friday night. We ate at Little Poland on 2nd Avenue and 12th Street. I had the big combo platter: Kielbasa, pierogi, bigos and stuffed cabbage. About four pounds of thick, heavy, gravied, Eastern European delights. Most satisfying! Unfortunately, I had forgotten that I had to run a charity 5K race the very next morning. Oh, no! Well, guess what? I killed it. I ran a personal best. It turns out that Polish food = ROCKET FUEL. Who knew?

Fun With a Boulder, Floyd the Barber and Jesus

Posted on October 14, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

The Gagosian Gallery on 23^rd St. in Chelsea recently featured this work by Michael Heizer.

Negative Wall Sculpture (1992-94)

It’s a 5.7 ton hunk of black granite mounted with a metal rod (apparently, a damn strong one) inside a weathered steel frame.

You can say it’s just a rock in a box. A reasonable argument can be made that it has little to do with art. But when I walked into the gallery, it filled me with a moment of awe. Perhaps it was the juxtaposition of the surrounding white walls or the fact that no one else was there. Just me and this big, stupid, imposing, beautiful rock enveloped in a thick, heavy silence. It really did work for me.

Since it’s in a gallery, I have to presume it’s for sale. I wonder how much? It’d pull the side of my house right down.

Over at the Sean Kelly Gallery is this clever eye-trick by Idiris Khan.

kahn1

A feather pattern printed in white on hanging panes of glass. Stand in front of it and light streams through.

Move in close and its secret is revealed: They’re sentences.

Printed words layered until they merge into each other. I couldn’t make sense of what it said, which I imagine is intentional. The message is the pattern, not what composes the pattern. I think.

Khan also printed this large piece on a wall at the gallery entrance. [Note to self: Next time, include an object to show scale.] There’s no way to preserve this. It’ll simply be painted over when the exhibit closes.

This one includes layers of English and Arabic.

In tonight’s shocking episode of “The Andy Griffith Show”:

iiiiiiii…KNEW IT! It’s so obvious in hindsight. I always thought Floyd was a little light in the loafers. And he was the town hairdresser, after all.

I went to church a couple of weeks ago. I occasionally attend and always go with an open mind and an open heart. It meant a lot to my mom and it’s meaningful to My Bride. I want to be respectful.

The first reading was a faerie tale about how God put a man to sleep, open his chest, extracted a rib and invented women. I am astonished that people still believe this is how women evolved. And please don’t tell me it’s an allegory. If that’s the case, are there other allegories I should be made aware of? How about the resurrection?

The second reading was from the New Testament. Jesus was asked his opinion about remarrying after divorce. He deemed it tantamount to adultery. That means that my mother, a devout Catholic who spent untold hours performing charitable works in the Church’s name, is now burning in hell as an adulterer. My blood started a slow simmer.

Instead of a Gospel reading, we were treated to a video by The Most Rev. David M. O’Connell, the Bishop of the Archdiocese of Trenton. He announced the beginning of the Faith to Move Mountains fundraising initiative. The church needs cash. He said he didn’t just want us to give. He wants us to give until we feel the weight of a true sacrifice. I took that to mean we should give an amount that causes some mild economic distress to our household. This church [not our regular church] serves an affluent community and is known for its aggressive fundraising. We know someone who was called at home and told a $10,000 contribution would be an appropriate amount to give.

After listening to a load of blarney about how women were invented and then being told that, according to a strict interpretation of Catholic doctrine, my mother is no better than a common whore in the eyes of the church, they wanted me to give them some money.

So that didn’t go as well as I would’ve liked.

The next day, I read in the New York Times that the church spend $170,000,000 to restore St. Patrick’s Cathedral on 5^th Avenue.

$170,000,000 for one church. Praise Jesus and his mysterious, tax-free ways.

Vincent’s Faded Flowers

Posted on August 20, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

I dragged everyone to the Met on Sunday afternoon to see Van Gogh: Irises and Roses. I’m pretty sure they would’ve preferred a trip to the beach instead but that’s too bad. Stuff like this is once-in-a-lifetime.

This exhibit gathers four works that Van Gogh painted shortly before taking his life. All four masterpieces were completed in just ONE WEEK—an incredible burst of creativity and energy, done at the height of his madness.

They were conceived as a set and intended to be hung as you see here, vertical orientations on either end and landscape in the middle. Each vase is slightly off-center. They’re set on a table whose horizontal line runs concurrent through all four works, anchoring them. This exhibit is the first time all four paintings have been seen together since they were executed in 1890.

He carefully selected colors that would compliment and play off of each other. He used paints that had unstable pigments and knew the colors would fade over time. In a letter to his brother Theo, he wrote that, “Paintings fade like flowers.”

These roses were originally pink. Now, they’re a pure white.

The irises, once a deep purple, are now blue.

There was an accompanying video that attempted to recreate the original colors. They used pigment analysis and detailed notes Van Gogh kept regarding his color and process, but they were just educated guesses. Nobody alive knows what these originally looked like.

The girls weren’t terribly impressed with this summer’s rooftop installation but I thought it had some artistic merit. The Roof Garden Commission: Pierre Huyghe starts off with a somewhat confusing displacement of paving stones. I thought it was a construction project but it’s part of the exhibit. It felt disengaged from anything having to do with art.

On the far corner of the roof is the primary piece. The meat of the exhibit.

Inside a giant fish tank floats (floats!) a bolder of Manhattan schist—the unique and powerful bedrock that allows skyscrapers and transit systems to be anchored to this small spit of land. The tip of the bolder peeks above the surface. A pile of sand rises to a few inches below the bolder.

The glass randomly toggles from clear to opaque. I’m not sure how this is accomplished but it’s a nice effect.

Inside the fish tank are creepy, alien-like tadpole shrimp. I don’t know if they’re there for aesthetic reasons or f they provide a cleaning service. At the end of each video, you can see the glass cloud over.

The exhibit brochure is full of some artistic babble regarding the dynamic gathering of different elements—plants, stones and animals. That stuff never sinks into my thick skull. I just enjoy the visceral thrill it provides (or doesn’t). I require nothing more from the artist, least of all an explanation.

Daughter + Frank Stella’s Die Fahne hoch!

When Stella first showed this painting in 1959 people were baffled and looked for a deep meaning. He responded by saying:

“What you see is what you see. Painting to me is a brush and a bucket and you put it on a surface. There’s no other reality for me other than that.”

That sounds kind of shallow but that’s how I feel about it, too.

Exile on Pain Street

Straddling the Hudson River. One foot in NYC, the other in suburban New Jersey.

Category Archives: Art

There’s one perfect fit. And, sugar, this one is it.

Art + Commerce = The Fall Auction Report

Cockroach Infestation

Fun With a Boulder, Floyd the Barber and Jesus

Vincent’s Faded Flowers

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