Category Archives: Art

What do you need to create?

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I don’t like to publish posts this close together. Posts are like bottles of wine. You have to uncork them and give them time to breathe and mature. But I just read this and am as blown away today as I was when I first read it many years ago and I wanted to share it with you guys. Plus, I’m snowed-in and bored.

Stick with this. Ride it out to the end. It’s Bukowski at his best.

air and light and time and space

”– you know, I’ve either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and the time to
create.”

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

The family dog: Always happy to see me walk into the room.

Juxtapose Your Day

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Juxtaposition is when two contrasting items are placed in close proximity to one another for heightened effect. In concert, a band will play a raucous song followed by a quiet one. Springsteen does it a lot. It’s Beethoven’s favorite device. His music is ether bombastic or delicate. Movies, literature, art—it’s everywhere. Juxtaposition is used to tweak your perceptions.

After the humiliation of watching a derelict violently berate two young girls and not lift a finger to help, the rest of my day unfolded in a narcotic euphoria. It was like watching a sped-up film of a flower opening.

I unpacked the guilt I was carrying for calling in sick (when I wasn’t), and the guilt for not helping those girls and left it on the marble steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Forgiveness is a snap under the right conditions. I came out of the subway at 86th Street and a gentle snow was falling. It was purifying.

Curves within curves.

met-ceiling

The key to a museum visit is to get there when it opens. You float through the quiet corridors and empty galleries unmolested by crowds and noise.

The empty Met Café with snowstorm outside.

cafe3

People have their churches and cathedrals. Their synagogues, mosques, ashrams and shrines. I’ve visited a few of those places with an open heart and have never experienced any of the things you’re supposed to—an epiphany, a swelling of the spirit, becoming flush with joy. Mostly, they bore me. There’s only one place that fills my empty cup o’ essence to the brim and that’s an art museum.

Lovers steal a kiss in the Temple of Dendur.

Dendur2

Art museums restore my faith in humanity and fill me with hope and forgiveness. It’s the only evidence I’ve seen that there might be a God. Listening to a sermon has never convinced me. They’re all slick-haired, television evangelists to me. Art museums are filled with kindred damaged souls.

“His fleece was white as snow…”

snowI never understood Cubism but this exhibit was an historical gathering of paintings, so I felt compelled to see it. I did a smart thing. I bought an audio tour. If you stand in front of a jumbled mess and someone carefully explains the artist’s intent, the mess dissolves into a new clarity and a deeper understanding. Its meaning is unearthed and something that, at first glance, you never thought you could like, much less understand, suddenly makes perfect sense. It turns out I love Cubism very much. What a surprise! I can’t tell you what a relief it is to know that an old dog like me can still learn a thing or two. It makes me sad that I didn’t have any teachers in my youth. What else have I missed?

Looking down into Central Park from the 2nd floor of the Met.

Central Park3

I took a walk through Central Park. Walking through a snowy Central Park will make you glad to be alive. It’ll make your heavy heart light and put a big, stupid grin on your face that will make you look disturbed to people walking past you. And that thought will please you.

“Have I gone mad?”
“I’m afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.”

Lewis Carroll
Alice in Wonderland

alice

Beyond those trees, some of the most expensive real estate on the planet.

central-park2

After the Park, I saw a movie. Bridman, with Michael Keaton. It’s about actors. Then I saw an off-Broadway play. A one-man show presented by a guy who spent 10 years in prison. He performed 18 different and distinct characters he met there, oftentimes in conversational clusters where you had four or five individuals coming out of one mouth.

All that happened within a 15-hour period. A near mugging, an artistic revelation, a stroll through a wintery Central Park, a move and then a play. During that entire span, I was alone. I didn’t talk to a soul and do you know what? I loved it.

I love my wife and daughters. Read the back-posts if you don’t believe me. But I’m content in my own skin. I always have been. I’ve never been lonely a day in my life and I don’t look to anyone to supply my happiness for me. I hang on my cross for lots of things. [Here’s one nail: Though my father lived with us until I was 16, I never had a conversation him.] But I’ve got independence, and that’s an awesome weapon to have in your arsenal.

Darla recently announced that she just obtained her 10,000th follower. A few days later, Elyse said she hit 4,000. Congrats girls! Well done and well deserved. I’d like to announce to the world that my follow meter just clicked to:

365

Pretty good, right? And I’ve only been doing this for seven years. Just wait until I pick up a head of steam. The sky’s the limit, bitches. [EDIT: I just reread this. Yikes. I’m not directing “bitches” at Darla and Elyse. Do a search. I call my audience bitches. All apologies if it was taken the wrong way.]

All kidding aside, I have a small, but vocal, following and I’ll take that any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Thank you, one and all.

Bonus track

This magnificent window was made by Louis Comfort Tiffany in 1924. NO PAINT was used in its production. Instead, the color comes from tiny bits of colored glass—he called it “glass confetti.” It throws light and is luminescent in a way paint is not. The water’s mist was made by layering thin panes of glass on top of one another. Other textures were created by wrinkling glass in its molten state.

tiffany2

Now do you believe me?

Where Art and Commerce Collide

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I love the holidays for purely secular reasons. I embrace the music, crowds, decorations, food, gatherings—pretty much everything that is outwardly disparaged in New York City. I’m like one of those Lindt chocolate truffles—I have a soft center.

The the holiday windows at Bergdorf Goodman are a treat. They’re no joke. They’re designed by artisans who take their work seriously. Every year there’s a theme and this year it’s the arts. Some of these are the best displays I’ve ever seen. Here’s a couple examples. If you reading this in the city and you don’t make the effort to see these you’re missing out. These pics don’t do them justice. And go at nighttime.

This window represents music. Nice art deco frame. They all have that.

music1

She’s surrounded by silver horns. Big ones. Little ones. Nice dress, too.

music2

This is dance. She slowly rotates on that gear. She’s delicate. The gears are not. A nice juxtaposition.

dance1

I love how she’s lit and the angle of her head. It accentuates her long neck.

dance2

This is architecture. The best of the bunch. I stood in front for a long time. There’s a lot to absorb. The window is crammed with representations of NYC landmark skyscrapers.

arch3

In the upper right corner, out of the shot above, is a gargoyle perched on a pedestal.

arch1

He’s made by a paper sculpture.

arch2

This represents theater. The neon lights are sequenced making a slow reveal from bottom to top.

theater1

I like that her dress is translucent. You can see the lights between her legs.

theater2

The day after I visited these, The New York Times Style section posted a short video on the making of the architecture window. It’s pretty interesting stuff.

Not to be outdone, the porn store on 8th Avenue across the street from my office also decorated their window. It’s kind of a lazy affair. I wonder if “Santa Sack” is suppose to be a double entendre? Pretty poor, if it is.

blue

I picked up my iPhone 6 on Saturday. It’s a miracle of form, function and design. I’m dizzy with happiness. Just like a maternity ward reveal.

The World’s Most Expensive Urinal

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I don’t imagine this will be of interest to everyone but I find the subject endlessly fascinating. This is my fall contemporary art auction report. These auctions were held two weeks ago here in New York at Christie’s and Sotheby’s. Prior to the auctions, you can visit the galleries and view the lots for free. It’s important to take it in because after the auction, they pass into private collections, never to be seen again.

My last post ended with a cliff-hanger so why don’t we address that first?

Robert Gober
Three Urinals
Estimate: $3,500,000 – $4,500,000
Lot Sold: $3,525,000

gober_urinal_sm I checked my local hardware store and you can get three urinals for about $1,000. I should have peed in one and said I was making an artistic statement and demand payment for my “work.”

I really like Francis Bacon. I came around to him rather late in life. Better late than never. It doesn’t say so explicitly in the title but this is a Pope. Or a Cardinal. I forget which.

Francis Bacon
Seated Figure
Estimate: $40,000,000 – $60,000,000
Lot Sold: $44,965,000

baconWarhol + Harry = LOVE IT. Warhol used metallic paint for many of these celeb paintings and the accent colors really POP when you see them in person. This was also signed by Debbie Harry. I wonder if that played into its value? [Fun fact: Debbie is performing her first show as a cabaret artist in the legendary Café Carlyle this spring. Yup. It’s come to that.]

Andy Warhol
Debbie Harry
Estimate: $2,500,000 – $3,500,000
Lot Sold: $3,077,000

Warhol_harryFor a long time, my least favorite artist was Jean-Michel Basquiat. I still don’t like his work (I’ll keep trying) but Robert Gober is my new least-favorite artist. He’s a charlatan, a fake and a flim-flam man. See that piece on the wall next to his urinal? Guess what that is?

drain1It’s this.

Robert Gober
Drain
Estimate: $300,000 – $500,000
Lot Sold: $293,000

drain2aThat’s it, folks. A drain stuck in the wall. A $293,000 drain. What a fraud.

Here are the two monsters. The ones that made it to the front page of The New York Times the next morning.

Andy Warhol
Triple Elvis [Ferus Type]
Estimate Upon Request
Lot Sold: $81,925,000

Andy Warhol
Four Marlons
Estimate Upon Request
Lot Sold: $69,605,000

warholEstimate Upon Request means they ain’t fucking around. There was a bench situated in front of these and I sat and stared for a while. Little did I suspect that I was looking at $150,000,000 worth of artwork.

This one was in the paper as well because it sold well beyond its pre-auction estimate. The peculiar thing is that unlike the oversized, big-ticket Warhols and Rothkos, this was a relatively small piece measuring just 11 5/8″ x 17 1/2″ (29.5 x 44.4 cm). I don’t mind it. It was vibrant. But not for that much.

Jasper Johns
Flag
Estimate: $15,000,000 – $20,000,000
Lot Sold: $36,005,000

johnsThis piece is huge. It measures 112 x 142 x 66 in. (284.5 x 360.7 x 167.6 cm). You don’t think this is supposed to be a gigantic…naaaa…no way.

Robert Morris
Vetti V
Estimate $150,000 – $200,000
Did Not Sell

morrisAnd speaking of Did Not Sell…this piece is from Damien Hirst, the fella who brought us a giant great white shark in a tank of formaldehyde and paintings made from butterfly wings.

Damien Hirst
Dog Days
Estimate: $500,000 – $700,000
Did Not Sell

hurst1Would you like to know what’s on all those shelves? It’s these:

hurst2I consider El Anatsue a bit of a genius. He’s a Ghanaian sculptor who makes these beautiful, flowing wall pieces. The Brooklyn Museum exhibited his work a couple of years ago and I still haven’t caught my breath.

El Anatsue
Man’s Cloth II
Estimate: $700,000 – $1,000,000
Lot Sold: $989,000

anatsui1Here’s what his pieces are constructed of:

anatsui2He collects thousands of aluminum bands from wine and beer bottles and painstakingly connects them using copper wire. He’s very intentional about the distribution of color and texture. His work shimmers.

I’ve always been a fan of Mark Rothko and this is one of the best pieces I’ve ever seen by him. I stood there and just let it wash over me. Sometimes, bigger IS better.

Mark Rothko
No. 21 (Red, Brown, Black and Orange)
Estimate Upon Request
Lot Sold: $44,965,000

rothkoPart of what fascinates me about these auctions is just how subjective they are and how some super-wealthy people can be talked into liking works with questionable merits. This is by Chinese artist/dissident Ai Weiwei, who I’m actually a fan of, but maybe not so much in this instance. It’s a pile of…

Ai Weiwei
He Xie
Estimate: $600,000 – $800,000
Lot Sold: 605,000

wiwi1…porcelain crabs, of course..

wiwi2I’d been indifferent towards Adolph Gottlieb’s work, neither liking nor disliking it, but I turned a corner and was gobsmacked with this. The photo is inadequate. It’s the perfect balance of color and shape, one playing off the other. I love when this happens. When an artist’s intent is suddenly revealed to you. I’ll have to reconsider my indifference.

Adolph Gottlieb
Red and Blue
Estimate: $2,000,000 – $3,000,000
Lot Sold: $2,165,000

gottliebI’ve got a few more but I’ll stop with this lot. I think it’s an appropriate coda. It’s by Christopher Wool and even though he didn’t title it, I think we can surmise from the content, what someone paid for it and the overall spirit of these auctions what the title should be.

Christopher Wool
Untitled
Estimate: $12,000,000 – $18,000,000
Lot Sold: $14,165,000

fool

Bonus Track. I accidentally took this while walking through Sotheby’s. I flipped the pic 180° and like the effect. I look like I’m walking towards myself. How meta.

Estimate Upon Request.

feet

Isn’t this how they found Elvis?

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It’s been a while since I stripped back a layer of skin so here’s another entry from my journals. In this painful episode, I get sick and then sign the lease that changed my life.

January 5, 1993

I drank half a bottle of white wine by myself and woke up the next morning violently ill with a pounding headache and a terrible stomach cramp. I couldn’t even get out of bed to put the stereo on. Finally, out of necessity, I got dressed, crawled to the bathroom and sat on the commode for a long while. That’s when things got much worse. I was overwhelmed with a fever and BLACKED OUT. I came-to on the floor with my pants and underwear around my ankles and the cats staring at me. (No, guys, not dead yet.) I had pitched forward and fell off the toilet. I’m lucky I didn’t crack my head on the tub.

There was feces everywhere. I peeled off my clothes and took a scolding hot shower. Afterwards, I cleaned the bathroom, carefully placed my clothes in a garbage bag, double-bagged it and set it in the hallway. I looked at myself in the mirror and my skin looked like alabaster.

Kay phoned. I was supposed to go to her place but I told her I was too sick. I left out the pretty details. She said she was sorry and told me to call later if I felt better.

I went back to bed and fell into a deep, deep sleep. Woke up a half day later and still had a pounding headache but the stomach cramp was gone, thank God. I made a medicinal bacon/fried egg/cheese sandwich, phoned Kay and was at her apartment by 7:00. We sat on her sofa, made out and watched the college bowl games. White wine tastes and smells like a headache to me now. [Note: Miraculous recuperative powers are long gone, but I still never touch white wine.]

I’m signing the lease on the Lower East Side apartment tomorrow. Cindy is going to boil two lobsters in celebration, the poor things. What the hell am I DOING?! Am I insane? It’s affordable but Clinton Street is nothing but junkies, whores and gunshots. It’s nighttime, 24-hours a day. The liquor store on the corner has a thick, Plexiglas bullet proof booth that you step into. You tell them what you want, they fetch it and put it on a turntable. That’s AFTER you give them the money, of course. I can’t invite anyone over!

The building was built in 1939 and is in great shape. Many art deco flourishes. The apartment is remarkable. Two bedrooms, 900 square feet with hardwood parquet floors and a step-down living room. And it’s a real two bedroom. They didn’t construct a plywood wall in a bedroom and call it two. There’s an unobstructed view of the sky out the front and you can see the tops of the World Trade Center towers from the bedroom. The rent is $511.20/month and it’s rent stabilized, so it’ll only go up 3-4% annually. Howard said I should take all the money I’m saving and invest in a cemetery plot.

The previous tenant died of AIDS. The refrigerator was stocked-full of medications and concoctions. There was box of hypodermics in the cupboards. I wonder how much I can get for them outside?

Everyone at work is talking about their upcoming vacations. One is going to Colorado skiing. Another is going to Margarita Island. My life is so slow and hopeless. I can’t say I envy those guys because they practically live at the office. Their hours are brutal and their work seems insufferably dull to me. But they make up for it when they’re off. Michele is worried because her career is on an upward trajectory but John is complacent and not professionally motivated. It bothers her. I should warn him that he’s about to be dumped.

Does complacent and not professionally motivated sound uncomfortably familiar? Bonnie said we should sit down and talk about “the career thing” (her words) after my move to Manhattan. I don’t know what to do with myself. I never went to school. I’m ashamed of where I live. Who’ll have me? I’m scared.

Epilogue: On January 22nd of this year, the apartment below mine sold as a condo.

Asking price: $990,000
Sale price: $1,085,000

I couldn’t afford to move back there if I wanted to. It’s an interesting arc; what once was to what now is. For Clinton Street and for me.

Here’s a tease for my next post. It’s time for my semi-annual Christie’s contemporary art auction report. My favorite! Wanna guess whether or not this lot sold?

Robert Gober
Three Urinals
Est.: $3,500,000–4,500,000

gober_urinal_sm

Bonus Track

Apartments in the iconic Dakota on 72nd and Central Park West never come on the market. They’re held by families for generation after generation. (Though still referred to as “apartments,” that’s a misnomer. They’re actually co-ops.)

Well, almost never.

Take a look at this fantasy. The description states: “Retained by the original owner since the 1960’s…” That original owner was Lauren Bacall, who passed away in August. This, brothers and sisters, is how I would choose to live, if the choice were mine to make. Apartment 43 in The Dakota.