City of Narcissists and Art

Posted on August 5, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

105

I. I’m Breaking Up with New York

New York is suffering an epidemic of narcissism. Maybe I’m just old and naïve and don’t recognize a new wave when I see one. Perhaps what I consider to be socially abhorrent behavior is, in reality, the new normal. I’ve always has a jolly laugh at the sight of geezers wrestling with new technologies. The way they fumble with mobile phones or botch their DVR programming. Who’s laughing now?

A few weeks ago, there was a disruption at the evening performance of Hand to God on Broadway. After taking his orchestra seat, just before the show began, a stupid boy noticed his mobile phone battery was about to die. He saw an outlet on the set, (a PRETEND outlet) jumped up on stage and plugged his phone in. He was immediately descended upon by the ushers. He later explained, “I saw the outlet and ran for it. That was the only outlet I saw, so I thought, ‘Why not?’ Girls were calling all day. What would you do?”

Shortly after that, at an evening performance of Shows for Days at Lincoln Center starring Patti LuPone, a young girl sitting near the front was texting throughout Act One. She was so disengaged from the performance that she shared her texts with her date sitting next to her. While walking off stage at the conclusion of Act One, LuPone walked over and grabbed the phone out of her hand mid-text and walked off stage with it. It was returned after the show.

Later, in a statement, LuPone said, “I am so defeated by this issue.”

But if you really want to take the pulse of the self-absorbed narcissists in this town, look no further than the Style section of The New York Times. Last weekend, they featured an article about women (wealthy, of course, because, apparently, money makes you insane) who are so worried about their appearance in their Instagram/Facebook photo taken immediately following childbirth, they hire hairstylists and makeup artists to come to their hospital room for a postpartum grooming. These services cost upwards of $700.

This is the photo that accompanied the article. She’s a lawyer who lives in the Financial District. (That figures.) The unintentionally hilarious aspect is that you CAN’T SEE THE BABY. She might just as well be cradling a loaf of pumpernickel or a bag of cash.

Those are surgical instruments on the right and tools of the beauty trade on the left.I’ve had it with these New York idiots who are incapable of living outside their own heads. To paraphrase, I don’t want to be a part of it, New York, New York. I’ll go back to Cleveland. The people out there are real.

II. I Love New York

Currently at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea is an exhibit by DeWain Valentine. I grabbed a cab on my lunch hour and ran down to see it. Valentine was part of the Light and Space movement in the 60’s and 70’s. The work focuses on using light, transparency, reflection and texture.

These four magnificent disks are made of polyester resin. They’re about 6′ tall. Crossing the threshold into the bright, airy gallery provided a genuine thrill.

I was lucky enough to have the galleries all to myself. People are okay to drink and hang out with, but I don’t want anyone around when I’m enjoying the art.

The urge to reach out and touch them was overpowering, but since each piece was free standing, a monitor was on hand in each gallery to discourage close encounters. I like when you can see the room’s architecture through the piece.

They’re several inches thick at the bottom but taper towards the top.

This translucent wall reminded me of Richard Serra’s iron oxidized sculptures. I stood in this room for a long time, not realizing until afterwards that I’d completely forgotten what was bothering me that day. Art can take you someplace else.

The gallery monitors weren’t Zwirner employees. They were employed by the artist to answer questions and provide insight into his process. They were knowledgeable and lacked pretense. They also instinctively knew when I wanted to be alone with the art and faded into the background.

These more modest, but still fetching, pieces were in a side gallery.

An even more spectacular example of the Light and Space movement (and one of the best exhibits I’ve ever seen) was two years ago when James Turrell turned the rotunda of the Guggenheim into a hallucinatory spectrum of light.

Being able to enjoy this sort of frivolity on my lunch hour is a privilege. It’s a lucky break I fell into—none of this happened by design. Who am I trying to kid? You guys or myself? I can’t leave New York! I guess I’m stuck here. I just wish people would learn to disengage. They’d see some interesting things if they’d stop spending so much time gazing lovingly into the mirror.

Death! Destruction! Pestilence! Some light summer reading.

Posted on July 30, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

100

From the publishers:

Fourteen-year-old Doug Swieteck faces…an abusive father, a brother traumatized by Vietnam, suspicious teachers, police officers and isolation.

When a school bus accident leaves sixteen-year-old Jessica an amputee…

Ten concentration camps. Ten different places where you are starved, tortured, and worked mercilessly. …it is what Yanek Gruener has to face.

Fifteen-year-old Lina, her mother and brother are pulled from their Lithuanian home by Soviet guards and sent to Siberia, where her father is sentenced to death in a prison camp.

Jack Baker…is suddenly uprooted after his mother’s death and placed in a boy’s boarding school in Maine. [Maine!]

…sixteen-year-old Miranda describes her family’s struggle to survive after a meteor hits the moon, causing worldwide tsunamis, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions.

Will is one of only a few people who is able to see the growing number of corpses invading his town…[he] is suddenly in the middle of a war between the living and the dead.

In a dark future, when North America has split into two warring nations… [Punk-ass bitch Canadians.]

A group of fourteen-year-old boys who make a living picking garbage from the outskirts of a large city find something…that brings terrifying consequences.

Katsa has been able to kill a man with her bare hands since she was eight…she is forced to work as the King’s thug.

No, these are not future episodes of The Walking Dead. Believe it or not, the preceding plot summaries were culled from my 8^th grade daughter’s summer reading list. Tales of dystopian societies, death, abandonment, war and despair. Is the Board of Education out to wreck their summer? I blame The Hunger Games. It spawned a slew of imitators (as success is prone to do).

I’m a bit peeved about this. I read the one about the meteor hitting the moon and it wasn’t pleasant. Am I being a big baby?

A sprig of premium catnip is placed before a sleeping, unsuspecting Stinky. He suddenly awakens!

Oh, rapture! Oh, joy! A narcotic-induced smile.

The end result is always the same: the junkie nod.

The summer outdoor art installation season got off to a creaky start with Teresita Fernández’s Fata Morgana at Madison Square Park. The six-section canopy sculpture of mirror-polished disks are mounted on supports over the winding walkways.There are some interesting angles when you’re underneath…

fata1

…but upon approach, it looks about as artistically fetching as scaffolding around a construction site.

The light and shapes can say something, but only from very specific angles.

People are complaining that the sculptures are blocking sunlight to the walkways—which is true—but I’m willing to accept the temporary sacrifice for art’s sake.

Here are two past Madison Square Park exhibits that dazzled from all angles:

Orly Genger constructed walls of colored rope in Red, Yellow and Blue.

My fave, Antony Gormley’s Event Horizon, was a series of life-sized statues of the artist strategically placed on roofs and ledges surrounding the park.

Do you know what I liked better? These.

A girl was selling these on a table on 42nd Street near 6th Avenue. Her medium is spray paint.

I asked her if I could photograph these and she told me to go right ahead. Afterwards, I noticed a donation can and I threw two bucks in. I wish I’d have asked her how much they cost.

I think they all have merit but you know which one is the best, don’t you? That one of Harley Quinn. Look at that sharply-defined mask against the rest of the chaos. Fantastic. I’d love to see what she could do with Batman.

I know I’ve posted far too many photos of the Flatiron Building, but I was passing by late in the evening and the light was hitting it just right. If you’ll indulge me these last two, I promise not to post any more. iPhone cameras are the best. Who needs an SLR anymore?

A horse is a horse of course. Unless it’s an art installation.

Posted on July 2, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

114

Here’s a peculiar one. You’re going to have to dramatically expand your definition of what constitutes art. Or, call bullshit if you see bullshit.

I took a long lunch, hopped the subway down to Houston St. and visited Jannis Kounellis’s Untitled (12 Horses) at Gavin Brown’s Enterprise gallery in Greenwich Village. It’s a living installation that’s consists of 12 horses tethered to the wall in the gallery’s big space.

It was first executed in Rome in 1969 and has since (in certain small circles) achieved legendary status. It’s been staged five times in Europe. Having it staged here in New York is considered a major coup. Kounellis flew in from Italy to oversee the installation.

gallery6

The horses didn’t actually do anything other than be horses. They stood there eating hay and relieving themselves at will. There were three grooms in attendance to see to the horse’s comfort and needs and to keep the gallery clean. The gallery floor was outfitted with a rubber mat to protect their hoofs.

A reviewer in The New York Times gushed that the exhibit was “…an unforgettable New York art world moment” and said it had a calming influence on her. The review generated so much buzz that lines formed. It was sunny and hot. The gallery was gracious enough to provide umbrellas and free bottles of water to people waiting outside.

Only 10 people were allowed in at a time so as not to rattle the horses (I suppose).

Outside the contemporary art world, this is commonly referred to as a “barn.” I’ve been in barns at the race track and county fair and aside from a curator surveying the scene, it’s no different. So, I ask you, is turning an art gallery into a barn an unforgettable moment in contemporary art, as The New York Times insisted, or is it horseshit?

Simultaneously, just outside Untitled (12 Horses) in a smaller gallery, artist Rirkrit Tiravanija staged one of his food installations. His exhibits often involve cooking and sharing meals. He considers it the art of bringing people together. In this piece, he provided free pork tacos to visitors. After viewing the horses, people would queue up buffet style.

A hole was cut in the gallery floor and the pork was cooked under a mound of earth. Please don’t ask me how this was accomplished. I haven’t a clue.

Picnic tables were placed around the perimeter of the gallery. There was no limit on how long you could stay, nor how much food you could eat. People seemed genuinely respectful and didn’t make pigs of themselves or overstay their welcome. Having a fairly dark view of the human condition, I was pleasantly surprised.

I was also surprised there weren’t any vagrants about. Perhaps they hadn’t read the Times yet. I remember when I lived in the city and would attend gallery openings, the homeless would always descend for the free wine. They are part of the fabric of New York gallery openings. Hey! That could be an installation! Wealthy white art patrons can stand around the perimeter of a gallery and watch street urchins drink free wine. I’ll call it “Like Moths to the Flame.” The title it apt for both audience and subjects.

Two posts ago I complained about a gigantic new consultant at work who is making my life difficult with his incessant eating. Trying to concentrate on the tasks at hand is a challenge when the soundtrack of my day is the smacking, chawing, gulping and gnashing of food that goes on just a few feet away, not to mention his heavy, labored wheezing. Every exhale sounds like it could be his last.

In addition to stuffing is piehole with food, another one of his great pleasures in life is using a pen cap to dig the earwax out of his ear while he talks on the phone. Sitting next to him makes me feel like a complete failure. Press play. You must!

He missed a day of work because of a plumbing mishap back home. His bathroom flooded. I felt a (very brief) sympathetic pang when I heard what caused the flood. His girlfriend tried to flush his junk food down the toilet and it backed up. He said, “That wasn’t the first time she did that.”

Is there any doubt that we live in a MAN’S WORLD? How does this guy have a girlfriend? It appears that his food addiction is nothing to joke about. I’d probably feel sorry for him if I didn’t have to sit in such close proximity.

The new rage at New Jersey diners:

Grilled cheese sandwiches stuffed with mac-n-cheese. Gross. A friend of mine ordered this. I have low standards, especially when it comes to food, but I couldn’t choke this down if I tried.

Dumping the cutlery drawer onto the kitchen floor

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

111

I really have nothing to say. What the hell is going on? What am I doing here?

Nature’s Way: Part 1

Here’s how a typical New Jersey douchebag parks:

The problem isn’t with him. It’s me. This makes me far, far angrier than it should. Why do I care? Why am I in his world? He didn’t put me out. I got a parking spot. But I’m so involved that I stopped to take a photo. And posted it, no less! Thinking you’d all share in the outrage. That you all suffer the same illness that I do. I need H-E-L-P.

Nature’s Way: Part 2

My in-laws place has a backyard that abuts the woods. A deer walked out of the woods alone and stood near the pool. It stood there for a long while. Longer than a deer usually stays in one spot. And they’re usually not alone. Then, bombs away! It gave birth! It was like dinner and a show. I’ve experienced two births up close and didn’t really feel the need to see another.

My father-in-law said that earlier in the week, another deer gave birth on the curb near the street. We have so decimated their natural habitat that they have taken to giving birth in backyards and streets. People curse them as a nuisance.

Art is Money: Supplemental

I promised Gibber I’d follow-up the previous art auction post with a couple by Picasso that didn’t make the final edit. He’s her “undying favourite,” proving, by that peculiar spelling tic, that you are not from these here parts.

Les Femmens d’Alger was painted in homage to his pal and competitor Matisse not long after Henri died. It’s considered one of the most important Picasso masterpieces still held in private hands. This version, Version O, is part of a 15-piece series and is considered to be the best of the bunch. It sold for a preposterous amount of money. It was bought anonymously and the art world has made great sport out of trying to figure out who owns it. It ain’t me, I can tell you that much. Or Gibber. Presumably.

Pablo Picasso
Les Femmens d’Alger (Version ‘O’)
Estimate on Request
Sold for $179,365,000

Picasso left his girlfriend for several weeks while she was pregnant. Boy, was she angry! He returned with an “I’m sorry” gift; an embroidered red peasant jacket, which she loved so much that he included it in this portrait of her. What?! You can’t see it! It’s right there in front of your face!

Pablo Picasso
Femme au Chignon Dans un Fauteuil
Estimate: $12,000,000-18,000,000
Sold for 29,930,000

Does anyone remember when Kobe Bryant got caught cheating on his wife? HER appeasement gift was a gigantic, 8-carat purple diamond ring worth $4,000,000. Some women sure know how to parlay their rage into a payoff. I like both paintings, by the way.

Hey, shitheel terrorists. Remember that big hole in the ground from 9/11? Look what we built in its place. It’s magnificent! And really tall. And you can’t get NEAR the memorial or observation deck without a reservation. It’s constantly packed. So much for people being too afraid.

ART is MONEY. MONEY is ART. The spring auction report.

Posted on May 18, 2015 by Exile on Pain Street

124

“There’s something slightly boastful wanting to own these things. And there’s a prevalent sense that this is also about asset gathering, not just collecting.”

Abigail Asher
Art Consultant

Well, that’s the understatement of the year. I don’t imagine this post will get a lot of play, but I find this stuff endlessly fascinating. It was a record week at the spring Contemporary and Impressionist art auctions. Christie’s alone sold over $1 billion worth of art. As always, a splendid time was had by the 1%.

Alas, poor Vincent. Only sold one lousy painting his whole life. And that was to his brother. He’s doing okay now. This was a great piece. The blue was more vibrant than what you see here.

Vincent Van Gogh
L’Alle des Alyscamps
Estimate on Request, but believed to be +/- $40,000,000.
Sold for $66,300,000

It’s hard to look at this and feel indifferent. People either love Pollock or hate him. I understand why folks might have a problem with this, but I liked it.

Jackson Pollock
Number 12, 1950
Estimate: $15,000,000-20,000,000
Sold for $18,282,000

I’ve just recently developed an appreciation for sculpture. Late to the game. If I could have this piece on this pedestal with this lighting, I’d take it.

Alberto Giacometti
Buste de Diego (Amenophis)
Estimate: $6,000,000-8,000,000
Sold for $12,794,000

Contemporary art snobs disparage the Impressionists as being about as challenging as a Hallmark greeting card. Well, screw them. I like it. Art snobs should remember: Impressionism is a gateway drug. A few years of these guys and the next thing you know you’re curious about the Pre-Raphaelites. In the comic strip Doonsbury, prototype slacker Zonker Harris won $23 million in the lottery and spent $1 million on a Monet. He hung it above his refrigerator but subsequently sold it to purchase a royal title in the British aristocracy.

Claude Monet
Nympheas
Estimate: $30,000,000-45,000,000
Sold for $54,010,000

A smattering of contemporary pieces.

Keith Harring
Dog (Three Works)
Estimate: $500,000-700,000
Sold for $1,690,000

Robert Indiana
Love
Estimate: $400,000-600,000
Sold for $538,000

Barbara Kruger
Untitled (Provenance)
Estimate: $120,000-180,000
Sold for $394,000

You’ve got to hand it to Jeff Koons. He has a talent for making wealthy people look foolish. Three Hoovers in Plexiglas with fluorescent lights. The lot description said this was executed in 1980-1986. This took six years?!

Jeff Koons
New Hoover Deluxe Shampoo Polishers
Estimate: $5,000,000-7,000,000
Sold for $5,765,000

This Rothko was described as being unusually bright. That’s putting it mildly! Rothko’s color palate trends towards deathly earth tones. This was owned by Bunny Melon. Pronounce her name with a clenched jaw. You can’t get Waspier than that.

Mark Rothko
Untitled (Yellow and Blue)
Estimate: $40,000,000-60,000,000
Sold for $46,450,000

I’m posting this Mondrian right after a Rothko intentionally. Rothko famously fumed that, “I am not a formalist. I have no interest in Mondrian. My paintings do not deal in space. Mondrian divides a canvas; I put thing on it.”

Piet Mondrian
Composition No. III with Red, Blue, Yellow and Black
Estimate: $15,000,000-25,000,000
Sold for: $50,565,000—a world record for a Mondrian

I love both the Rothko and the Mondrian. If I could, I’d buy both and hang them next to one anotheer. Heh.

Spooky and rich. This feeds both my desire to own an Impressionist masterpiece and my bottomless pit of Anglophilia.

Claude Monet
The Houses of Parliament at Sunset
Estimate: $35,000,000-45,000,000
Sold for $40,485,000

This Lichtenstein is thought to have missed the estimate because, believe it or not, it doesn’t contain one of his trademark comic book speech bubbles, which can add millions to a piece. WTF, art world?

Roy Lichtenstein
The Ring (Engagement)
Estimate on Request, but thought to be around $50,000,000
Sold for $41,690,000

All of Gerhard Richter’s works are an insult to the brushes he loaded with paint and the canvases he dragged them across. A giant mess.

Gerhard Richter
Abstraktes Bild
Estimate on Request
Sold for $28,250,000

Here’s another in a series of nothings from Jean-Michael Basquiat. He threw his life away on heroin addiction. Stupid ass. A door painted on two sides.

Jean-Michael Basquiat
Untitled
Estimate: $3,000,000-6,000,000
Sold for $3,610,000

This O’Keeffe is being offered in the May 20th American Art auction but included it here because I think it’s magnificent. O’Keeffe was angry that people interpreted her flower paintings as female genitalia. That was never her intent.

Georgia O’Keeffe
White Calla Lily
Estimate: $8,000,000-12,000,000

I hadn’t intended to include this Rothko. I was afraid of Rothko-overkill and the photo doesn’t do it justice. This was hung in a side gallery. The lights were dim and there was a bench set in front of it. I sat down and realized there was also relaxing spa music playing at a barely-audible level. I got kind of lost in the canvas. I had an out-of-body experience, which is what I believed Rothko intended. It sold for an extraordinary amount of cash.

Mark Rothko
No. 10
Estimate on request
Sold for $81,925,000

I showed this to a friend who’s an artist. He’s a master at watercolor. His comment was, “Nice flesh tones.” Well, that might be true but I couldn’t look at this hanging on my wall every day. Fun fact: Lucian Freud was the grandson of Sigmund Freud.

Lucian Freud
Benefits Supervisor Resting
Estimate: $30,000,000-50,000,000
Sold for $56,165,000

I like Anish Kapoor’s work. This concave disk is made of stainless steel and gold. It was mounted in a small room and smacked you as soon as you turned the corner. It’s all in the lighting, folks.

Anish Kapoor
Untitled
Estimate: $750,000-1,000,000
Sold for $905,000

Here’s what happens when you stand too close to it.

I wasn’t going include this Damian Hirst butterfly-wing piece because I’ve done a few of them in the past and I hate being redundant, but this is a particularly striking example so I couldn’t resist.

Damian Hirst
Freedom
Estimate: $500,000-700,000
Sold for $629,000

Here’s a funny one. Oh, golly, you’re going to laugh and laugh! These are words painted on a wall. How big it is depends on you. The lot description reads:

“Any size as suits the needs and desires of the receiver.”

Which, I guess, means Weiner comes to your house and paints this on a wall. Now, THERE’S a piece that can be easily forged.

Lawrence Weiner
Balls of Wood Balls of Iron
Estimate: $80,000-120,000
Sold for $185,000

This means when the auction is over and Christie’s paints that wall, they’re painting over a $185,000 “masterpiece.”

You are looking at $181,770,000 worth of art. I walked through this gallery with my backpack on. One false turn and you’d have read about me in the paper.

Mark Rothko
No. 36 (Black Stripe)
Estimate: $30,000,000-50,000,000
Sold for $40,485,000

Alberto Giacometti
L’homme au Doigt
Estimate on Request
Sold for $141,285,000

Exile on Pain Street

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

Category Archives: Art

City of Narcissists and Art

Death! Destruction! Pestilence! Some light summer reading.

A horse is a horse of course. Unless it’s an art installation.

Dumping the cutlery drawer onto the kitchen floor

ART is MONEY. MONEY is ART. The spring auction report.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: