Take that hideous thing outside

I was going to apologize for this being a “lazy” post because it’s mainly photos but then I remembered that photography is a legitimate art form. So I withdraw the apology that I have not offered. If you’ll allow me a moment of bloated egoism, I think some of these pics are fetching.

Winter approaches and it’s time to bid adieu to outdoor art exhibits. I love the monstrosities that some artists create and I’ll miss them. Here are the last two works until spring.

Our old pal Jeff Koons will be selling another balloon animal at Christie’s fall contemporary art auction. This time, it’s Balloon Monkey (Orange), estimated to sell for $20,000,000-$30,000,000.

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It doesn’t look much like a monkey at all, whereas his balloon dogs look like…well…dogs.

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Before each auction, they hold free previews in the gallery. If a show of that caliber opened at MoMA, the line would stretch down 54th Street to 5th Avenue. I don’t understand why more people don’t take advantage.

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This isn’t the first Koons sculpture to appear in front of Christie’s Rockefeller Center location. A while back, there was a balloon dog and some tulips.

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Admiring the art deco frieze.

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Selfie!

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I like the reactions. Tourists and New Yorkers alike scrunch their faces into fists of incomprehension. Can you blame them? The real fun starts when they see the auction estimate. I find these pieces tremendous fun but am depressed that someone would (and could) pay that kind of money for something like this. Rich people are certifiably insane. It’s a FACT.

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 Another day at the office.

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Cop scopes bad asses and robbers.

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I’ll follow-up with my semi-annual auction post in mid-November. Y’all come back now! Ya hear?

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This piece is in the plaza at Lincoln Center. It’s in front of the fountains.

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I had to double-up on my pics because the exposures were so different. Due to the inherent limitations of my iPhone, I could only take a picture of the image on the screen OR the plaza, but not both simultaneously. I think each result is equally interesting.

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Solar Reserve (Tonopah, Nevada) 2014, by Irish artist John Gerrard, is giant LED wall that re-creates a Nevada solar thermal power plant and the surrounding desert.

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The image situates the sun, moon and stars as they would appear at the actual Nevada site over the course of a year. The view slowly morphs from ground to satellite image every 60 minutes. The view is constantly, albeit, very slowly, changing throughout the course of the exhibit. It might be more interesting if they sped up the movement a bit. You don’t see much change just standing there.

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Interesting aside: That sign you see at the bottom are LED lights embedded into the steps leading up to the Plaza. There’s a whole series of them. They scroll upcoming Lincoln Center events and the word “welcome” in multiple languages.

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My colleague at work saw The Ramones at Vassar when she was a teenager. I’d pay a significant amount of money to watch The Ramones play in front of an audience of Vassar co-eds. Who wouldn’t?

Hating Contemporary Art (Thanks for Nothing, MoMA)

Sitting through a boring movie doesn’t mean you’ll never watch another movie again. Hearing a tedious piece of music won’t ruin music for you. A dull comedian won’t prevent you from laughing next week. But one insufferable play can keep you from ever wanting to go to the theater again. Likewise, one banal art exhibit can scar you for life. Do you find that to be so?

I had a big laugh last May when this sink by “artist” Robert Gober sold at a Christie’s contemporary art auction for $4,197,000.

sinkI’d never heard of this guy and thought the piece suffered from naked-emperor syndrome. This is the type of junk that alienates people from contemporary art. It’s a $4.2M joke played on the buyer. I’d forgotten all about the damn thing until I walked into the Museum of Modern Art and saw a career retrospective of Gober’s work.

I did a quick breath meditation and cleared my mind of all preconceived notions and previous judgments. I went in fresh. A white, blank slate.

I found the work so pretentious and uninspiring that I’m angry that my time was wasted. I’m getting all worked up again typing this. I want to take the MoMA curators and shake them. What do they see in this crap? C’mon down to the famous art museum and pay $25 to see a leg sticking out of a wall.

gorberleg2Or a leg sticking out of the wall with an anchor hanging from it.

gorberleg1Or a realistic, anatomically detailed, paraffin torso…

gorberleg3…with a music score written across his ass. What is this? It’s NOTHING.

gorberleg4I don’t get it. I don’t want to get it. I don’t want to be one of those precious deep thinkers who find metaphorical mystery in bundles of newspapers stacked in a corner. I guffawed at this because I’ve got the exact same installation in my garage.

gorbernewsRemember the $4 million sink? You want more? We got more! We got sinks with running water.

gorbersink2 Sinks filling a room. (With bundles of newspaper. Fancy. Introspective.)

gorbersink3Giant sinks. Sinks within sinks.

gorbersink1Apparently, he went through a wallpaper phase. Here, we have a room covered with images of penises and vaginas. Aren’t you shocked?! Tee-hee. I guess I can’t bring the kiddies to this one.

gorberwall3The next room was covered with wallpaper containing images of a lynching while whitey-white man sleeps peacefully. Ooh. I feel so guilty.

gorberwallpaperThe perimeter of the room is ringed with bags of cat litter for NO APPARENT REASON.

gorberwall1This was the one piece I liked. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while. A suitcase sits on the gallery floor.

gorbercase1Look inside and you’ll find a sewer grate.

gorbercase2Below the grate you’ll see that they’ve actually cut a hole in the gallery floor. A tabloid scene is below. The feet of a man standing in a pond holding a child. It’s a big surprise and the only thing I saw that showed a modicum of imagination.

gober suitcase 2I don’t need pretty pictures. Heaven knows those Francis Bacon smears are fairly horrific but I enjoy them. And I like pop art. It’s simple but fun. This stuff has no admirable qualities that I can detect. I am astonished at its popularity. MoMA owes me one free admission, those bastards.

Suppose someone is new to the art world and wants to expand their horizons. They walk into MoMA and see this crap. What are the odds that person will ever bother with art again? Especially contemporary art? On the other hand, they laughed at Degas for painting dancers who were tying their shoes and reading newspapers instead of dancing. What do I know?

Step aside, junior, and let some contemporary artists with vision and a fertile imagination

show you

how it’s done.

As always, feel free to disagree.

hookey

hooke·y (ho͝okē) noun informal.
1. to stay away from school or work without permission or explanation.

I take very few things in life seriously, least of all my work. I’m conscientious about keeping a job. I have responsibilities. Plus, I need to fund the things that DO interest me. But I’ve never been one of those career-driven success stories. I envy people like that. I wish I could have embraced a white collar profession, but things like medicine, law, management and high finance bore me to tears. Those things require a significant time commitment and a lot of personal sacrifice. I have a slacker’s heart.

I called in sick in order to view the Jeff Koons exhibit at the Whitney Museum. I told them I had food poisoning. How immature is that? Try to imagine someone who owns his own business or a senior executive in an asset management firm calling in sick to visit an art museum. It just wouldn’t happen. It’s irresponsible. It’s bizarre behavior for someone my age. Why am I blogging about this, anyway?

However, that being said, the Koons career retrospective is special. The Whitney is closing to relocate downtown and they’re going out with a bang. They turned the entire museum over to Koons. It’s unprecedented. I certainly don’t like all of his work but I thought the show was interesting enough to do something as childish as faking an illness. Kak-kak.

Back in the 90’s I didn’t have a lot of respect for Koons. I thought he was much better marketer than artist. Since then, I got over my bad ass self and enjoy some of his pieces because they’re fun, which is what I think he intended all along.

This is Balloon Dog (Yellow) from the Celebration series of the exhibit. Koons made five of these, each one a different color.

yellow-dog2Last November, Balloon Dog (Orange) sold at a Christie’s auction for $58.4 million. This one is owned by hedge fund scumbag Steven Cohen of SAC Capital.

This is his latest piece, finished just before the Whitney show opened. It’s a giant, steel sculpture of Play-Doh.

playdohPlay-Doh purportedly took 20 years to complete. He’s a perfectionist and was looking for the exact right color and texture. His poor assistants!

Across the room from Play-Doh is Hanging Heart (Violet/Gold), a 9-foot tall polished steel heart.

heartBalloon Dog, Play-Doh and Hanging Heart are all in the same gallery. It’s like walking into a riot of color and over-sized familiar shapes.

About a month ago I did a post that included Split Rocker, the Koons summer outdoor installation at Rockefeller Center.

split-rocker1The child’s rocker that was used as a model for these giant pieces was included in the Whitney show in the Easyfun series.

split-rocker2Koons has a thing with superheros. Who doesn’t? This is Popeye. It was on display in the courtyard just outside the Whitney cafeteria (where spinach isn’t served).

popeye1A version of this statue was purchased this past May by casino magnate Steve Wynn for $28 million. Is that all?

This is Hulk (Organ). It’s a fully functional pipe organ.

hulkIt couldn’t be played because it only has one volume—very loud. The literature said it’s as loud as a helicopter. What a tease!

Speaking of tease. There was a room full of sculptures from his Banality series that included his most famous piece, Michael Jackson and Bubbles.

banalityBefore I saw the exhibit, I was thinking that it’d be fun to bring the daughters into the city and see Balloon Dog and Play-Doh. Then I saw these.

banality2In 2011, the Pink Panther sold for $16.9 million, which was considered a huge disappointment. The estimate had been $20-30 Million. The front of the sculpture can be seen here. There’s some pornographic imagery as well.

crystal-statueThere are also giant prints of Koons nude with his then wife, Italian porn “actress”-turned politician La Cicciolina. Do you think 8-years old is too young to see Koons’ penis? I do.

You may have thought the previous pieces were preposterous but wait until you see these beauties. Here’s a gallery full of vacuum cleaners in lighted plexiglass cases. It’s from his The New series he did in 1980.

vacuum-cleaners2It defies commentary although I’m certain there’s a high-minded explanation for this.

This is from the Inflatables and Pre-New section. They’re…umm…a toaster and a whistling tea kettle mounted on lights. I was sending pics to my friend and he said, “You took off work for this?!”

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“I yam what I yam.”popeye2

Me too, brother.

Poor people are repulsive

There’s a new cruelty being foisted upon the middle income denizens of Manhattan. A whole new insult that was dreamed-up by real estate developers. Do you guys know what a ‘poor door’ is?

In a blatant attempt at fairness, New York City passed an ordinance requiring new residential buildings to include a small percentage of units that are to be sold as affordable housing. For example, a new building nearing completion on the Upper West Side has a few units that will be occupied by families earning $35-$55K annually. Don’t weep for the developers. They are given a significant tax abatement for providing these middle-market units.

Apparently, developers are worried that their upper-income tenants will be so unnerved by the sight of poor people that they managed to get an amendment allowing them to create separate entrances and lobbies; one for their wealthy residents and a second one on an opposite wing of the building for modest-income residents. It’s been unofficially christened the ‘poor door.’

In already existing buildings, amenities like rooftop gardens, gyms and playrooms for children are added to lure high net worth individuals. Access is being restricted to just those new tenants who are paying market-rate rents. The existing tenants who pay below-market rents are not permitted to use these new facilities. One developer was quoted as saying the gyms are being installed for new, market-rate paying tenants, not to please the existing ones.

Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt. Let’s say that someone with significant wealth wants to live around like-minded individuals. Fair enough. That being the case, why, in God’s name, would you choose to live in New York City? This place is an economic and racial bouillabaisse. If you’re that put-off by the sight of poor people, go live in Los Angeles or some other economically segregated city. If you can’t live without the East Coast, move to Westchester County or Darien, Connecticut. Those places have laws on the books that make having a modest income a criminal offense.

I want to live on the Upper East Side
And never go down in the street.
Splendid isolation
I don’t need no one

Splendid Isolation
Warren Zevon

Class segregation has been around for a long, long time. Just ask the Brits. But there’s a mean spiritedness at work here. What is this dark, human desire for exclusivity? Is it biological? Something that’s a natural occurrence amongst tribes? Or is it a learned behavior? Isn’t this how horrible things like wars and organized religions start?

With a million neon rainbows burning below me
And a million blazing taxis raising a roar
Here I sit, above the town
In my pet-palliated gown
Down in the depths
On the 90th floor

Down in the Depths (on the 90th Floor)
Cole Porter

Of course, my outrage is because my mother would have been forced to use the poor door. I internalize everything. I’ll own that. I spent some time in therapy and developed a modicum of self-awareness. But aside from that, seeing people treated like second class citizens by a bunch of real estate and hedge fund douche bags irks me a little bit. Plus, they’re scarring this beautiful/hideous city of mine. They’re turning it into Phoenix or Seattle or Tampa or Houston or Omaha or Pittsburgh. All fine places, but each one as vanilla and interchangeable as the next.


Here’s another snappy summer outdoor art installation. I didn’t use to like Jeff Koons’ work but then I got over my bad ass self and now I enjoy it.

koons1His latest is Split Rocker in the plaza of Rockefeller Center, where they put the Christmas tree. It coincides with his career retrospective currently at the Whitney. (A show important enough for me to call in “sick” and attend.)

koons5It’s a flower-covered stature of a child’s rocker split in half. I brought the girls in to see it before they dragged me to Matilda.

koons3One side is modeled after a toy rocking horse that belonged to one of the artist’s sons, and on the other side is the head of a toy dinosaur.

koons4The sculpture is attended to by an army of gardeners. There’s an internal irrigation system that extends to the top of the sculpture. As the summer progresses, it’ll flower becoming fuller and more robust.

koons6I like it. I must be getting soft in my old age.

Summer’s here and the time is right…

…for outdoor art installations. The city is littered with these things—and I mean that in the good way. Not all of the installations work—I’ll spare you the sight of the ones that don’t—but here’s one that amused me.

nearness5It runs through the center of Times Square—Broadway between 44th and 45th. This is Nearness by Cuban artist Arlés del Rio. It’s a simple concept that works because of its placement. It creates a nice flow.

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They’re exactly what you see; a series of chain link fences with the centers cut in the shape of silhouettes. They’re participatory, which I always like. People walk through them and have their pictures taken while standing in the middle. You don’t see anybody in these photos because it was 6:00 a.m. and anyone in their right mind is still in bed, not traipsing through Times Square. I think the exhibit is more striking without people around.

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According to the literature provided, these figures metaphorically represent

“…the social, political, cultural and personal barriers, among others, that may keep us away from one another.”

These concept descriptions are always too high-minded for me. They always sound like ArtNews blather. Perhaps the artist needs that gobbledygook to feel connected to his work but I always take it at face value. I’m the opposite of complex.

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This one’s my fav. Placed in front of the Times Square military recruiting center.

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Next up: a Jeff Koons horse.


While daddy’s at work, proud new mommies often bring their babies into the office for show and tell. The little bundles of screaming joy always have names like Halston or Eureka. [I recently saw Tiffany but it was spelled “Typhanie.”] Someone just paraded a stroller through the corridors here at work. It’s a disruption but everyone has to feign interest. Like when you’re forced to sing happy birthday in the break room. I’m guilty, too. I brought the first daughter in when she was born. Not the second one, though.

What I’ve noticed over the years is that when it’s the wife of a senior executive, it’s always the wife, the baby and a nanny. I guess if you can afford one, you get one. Why wouldn’t you? But I think it makes them seem frail. Like they’re too delicate or detached to shoulder the heavy responsibility of caring for a baby on their own.

I think that wealth makes some people soft. It robs them of their natural, God-given coping mechanisms. Their grit. Their ability to navigate through adversity or a lifestyle crisis, like a new baby. Instead of planting their feet, striking a defensive pose and dealing, they throw money at a problem and hope it goes away. Here in NYC and on Long Island, you can hire someone to teach your kid how to ride a bike. I’ve worked with and have known some very well-off people. It doesn’t seem to take much to harsh their mojo.


Speaking of mommies. Sex Tape with Jason Segel and Cameron Diaz just opened to disastrous reviews. Only a 20% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. It’s toast. I don’t want to say I enjoy reading bad reviews, because that’s not nice, but I laughed at this bon mot from the New York Times review. It said the movie…

“…asks us to believe that Annie is on the verge of selling her blog about motherhood for big money, a plot point that inspired raucous laughter from the press rows at my screening.”

Mommy blogs—hell, blogs in general—are about as rare as oxygen molecules. So the thought that one would actually sell for big money is pretty funny stuff, which I’m certain wasn’t their intent.