her show was gorgeous. that particular painting was serious eye candy. i don't usually like flower paintings, but that one was painted so fluidly. i just wanted to eat it.
HFT would never have done the white on white on the left, which is one of the genius moments of this picture. Also the container, and how it looks so plastic and manufactured with those measured marks. The brittleness of the plant material, the rough flat strokes that stand out from the realism. The wierd yellow sphere which is some kind of sad flower that the cheapo florist sends.
very much liked the show, though the ass hung too high for my taste. In fact, it shouldn't have been shown at all. It's like they put it there just to make sure we remembered who she was.
But all in all, good paintings. ...though I've seen better [of her] asses out there... Question is: If the large ones were painted at a more modest size (ie easel), would the show or the paintings have the same effect? Is scale being used as a crutch?
You are easily fooled by the fact that this painting refers to the past? That doesn't make it conservative, that means it takes the past into account. No reason to paint, if you're not going to consider/comment on/connect with the past. Otherwise, u-no, make a flash movie. Or commit a crime or something
I agree that taking the past into account when painting doesn't immediately make the work conservative. But, are you saying as a prescription a painter must connect with the past in some way?
The past is over. Move on dot org. If history says anything...painting about the past is not rewarded unless you are David or Brahms. Everyone else is everyone else.
In 1978, should you buy the Alfred Leslie or the Andy Warhol?
In painting as in life I cant help but make a connection to the past, whether I want to or not. The past is in my blood, in my DNA. No matter how much Id like to move on I never will. So I accept that. There's some content for you.
Interesting closeuup. I admit I'm not a person particularly interested in the past, living in a city where memories are bulldozed around the clock. It never ceases to amaze me.
I do trust vivid memories, though.
Those that are fumes at the back of the mind or that have crawled into some twist in that d-n-a, get dealt with accordingly. 1] bring them up close and get a good look. If there is anything going on that's good I'll pluck it out and send that to the cleaners [not the mob kind]. 2]alternatively I wipe the smoldering mildew off the shelf, on account there is high humidity here, and mildew stinks.
Anyway it's a lot more complicated than that, but: This painting is painted an old-fashioned way, using an old fashioned colorscheme. It feels old fashioned perhaps stacked with memory like a freshly made filmset in a barn of a studio for remake of Franky and Johnnie--the vase a stage prop [made out of that state-of-the-art non-reflect clear paper mache.]
Zip has a job interview today, he'll be back later on to spread the news.
Her flowers is fantastic, especially those at Tate. but rest of work is nothing mixed with nothing. Googling the net without firm results. this is not enough for New York, or probably it is New York who lost its status... we keep good ones for London....
no interview today just working. working to work to what end?
This is Gillian Carnegies room. Shes been shortlisted for the turner prize for her work exploring the properties of paining.
Her subjects fit loosely in the art historical categories of boring, boring and bland, a law firm to forget.
Paints ina wide range of styles and techniques.
I wish i had the courage to thumb my nose at signature style. Throw caustion tot he wind and paint anything that critiwques the institution.
institutional critique is it that interesting to anyone or am i speaking a private language, written in shorthand by a deaf mute in the air with a willow stick?
Paul Dorrell, an art dealer / blogger from Kansas just wrote a scathing post about the Chelsea / Soho art scene on his blog. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts. Here's the link: http://pauldorrell.com/blog/index.php/category/tips-for-artists/
not very scathing, at all, i was humming away to the song. anyway the artists up at his gallery make me want to backflip and proclaim Gillian Carnegie a genius. maybe she is and i with eye different than... Painting for the new century was painting with talent. You knew how to draw. You knew how to abbreviate. You knew how bad painting could actually go without letting it go. You knew painting, that no matter how serious it had to be, had to have the edge, while staying strapped to the recognizable, a graphic awareness, and at least four tablespoons of history, oh, and don't forget the fucking busloads of syrupy pop.
"You knew painting, that no matter how serious it had to be, had to have the edge, while staying strapped to the recognizable, a graphic awareness, and at least four tablespoons of history, oh, and don't forget the fucking busloads of syrupy pop."
-you just gave the secret recipe of John Currin and Cecily Brown.
Ah! I'm puzzled! blend a# The act of wrinkling the brow, as in thought, puzzlement, or displeasure. with b# A facial expression characterized by an upward curving of the corners of the mouth and indicating pleasure, amusement, or derision.
ah the visual bromide, facial expressions! Whither our brave new world? Faceless facelessness, facing inward, reflecting nothing but itself, darkening the bright side, lightening the light side, on off on of again and again into the valley of the shadow of death, cannons to the right of the cannons to the left of them,
and not a drop to drink. Or too much. Never too many. These are concepts of quantity. How many paintings to fill a bathtub? How much time to drown? How many minutes? How much breath?
Maybe damien Loeb put his shirt back on. Or maybe paint by numbers turned his beautifull mind into swiss cheese. Nightmare on Loeb Street. Tubular bells and all that kill kill kill stuff. Italian foregrounded shrubbery. Long shadows and airless nights.
Im lousy at spackling, ill admit it, Im not a knife, just an aspiring suit couching on coffin nails waiting for the big McGuffin to come out of its hole and tell me spring has sprung. That'll be the day. Repetition is repetitious.
Solid backgrounds - you know have a back story and a bulletproof alibi. Why would I lie?
Meet James Ensor Belgium's famous painter Dig him up and shake his hand Appreciate the man
Before there were junk stores Before there was junk He lived with his mother and the torments of Christ The world was transformed A crowd gathered round Pressed against his window so they could be the first
To meet James Ensor Belgium's famous painter Raise a glass and sit and stare Understand the man
He lost all his friends He didn't need his friends He lived with his mother and repeated himself The world has forgotten The world moved along The crowd at his window went back to their homes
Meet James Ensor Meet James Ensor Belgium's famous painter Dig him up and shake his hand Appreciate the man
Damien Loeb has a low brow palette - no sensitivity shown - is that intentional, like a conceptual thing?
If you use solid backgrounds like some of the paintersn mentioned, you get more credit as a sort fo pop person - well Loeb is pop, too - thats mass culture thats low brow.
Can there be a highbrow lowbrow?
A lowenbrau for everyone?
I don't think so.
Thats called universal language, and as the universal adversary, my name is not legion, its mud and more mud. I could use an entire bucket of spackle disguising the brick wall that hides your drexlers, your neil jenney's, grandma noses, your loebs and any of your other chroma challenged "content" providers.
lisa ruyter was selling for big bucks, i know that. She had god on her side, because god is fickle and angry and loves a good art joke. the painting above has a Henri louise maintentant lautrecian palette and a "traced bitmap" "macromedia flash" vibe. Absolutely chilling. Or absolute Ruyter. Not half bad for the summer home, the one in the alps. but to each their own, and from each their flash video - because painting is killed dead like a can of sardines in Darfur. Didnt her husband cheat someone? Or is that water under the goat?
And when it rains, you're shining down for me And I just can't get enough, I just can't get enough Just like a rainbow you know you set me free And I just can't get enough, I just can't get enough
My name is mud Not to be confused with bill or jack or pete or dennis My name is mud and its always been cause Im the most boring sons-a-bitch youve ever seen I dress in blue-yes navy blue From head to toe Im rather drab except my patent shoes I make em shine, well most the time cept today my feet are troddin on by this friend of mine Six foort two and rude as hell I got to get him in the ground before he starts to smell My name is mud
My name is mud, but call me alowishus devadander abercrombie Thats long for mud so Ive been told Told that by this sonsabitch that lies before me bloated blue and cold Ive got my pride, I drink my wine Id drink the finest except I havent earned a dime in several months Or were it years The breath on that fat bastard could bring any man to tears We had our words, a common spat So I kissed him upside the cranium with an aluminum baseball bat My name is mud
You're a Heartbreaker Dream Maker, Love Taker Don't you mess around with me! You're a Heartbreaker Dream Maker, Love Taker Don't you mess around - NO NO NO! zip who was that sculpture?
itw wendy white im pretty sure - reminds me of several assemblageists though. And im not about to let them get away with that. No no no.
Let us be dilligent in our critique!
Im not fooled by the lush neons of WW's painterly abstractions. No, the void is there. My eye is on that void, andnot the donut of prosperity. My eye is fixed, like glass, underneath the coffee table, a telltale sign that all is not right. "German culture is shit" as they do da de do dads.
What? SO im mr. negative? No, im just the voice of reason.
And thats the way the donut hole crumbles.
Transcendence is a luxury for the bourgeoise!
Put your best art on the barricades so that they must smash it!
contemplation is a luxury! Put your mind upon the altar and let me cut your ghost from the machine! Let us use the obsidian knife with ivory scrimshawed handle! Let us anoint you with rare oils, and rarer more pungent pigments!
I will record your extasy to be piped into the city subways of joyless hell.
The damned be damned! Let them glimpse heaven! Let them taste ash!
Me, Im crazy about WW's paintings. The neon is strait from the 99c store shining out into the dirty night. Swamp light. Or maybe its that tiny bit of bliss in a sea of negativity. Contrast is what keeps me going --to work. Im walking to work these days so I have an hour to contemplate my decrepitude. Bye
There's something wrong somewhere here So through unclean streets I made my way
With holes in my shoes And my children asleep at my feet I paid my way
In every town on the way The people looked grey The buildings looked healthy
But one day I met a man With money to spare He said he would tell me how it is
The State he began Has been propping up people too long For far too long
We all got lazy and couldn't be bothered To make our way through the world
But we are all bourgeois now Once there was class war But not any longer Because baby we are all bourgeois now So go out and make your way in the world
We're free to choose We're all free to choose We're all free to choose We're free to choose
In booming Britain we all work together To raise ourselves in the world Each of us knows someone Who has done well for themselves So well for themselves
"Thank you" I said as I left I'll be on my way I see how it is
We are all bourgeois now And somehow I'll raise myself in the world
I'm free to choose We're all free to choose We're all free to choose I'm free to choose
We're all bourgeois now We're all bourgeois now We're bourgeois now
Q: If you could design your tombstone, what would it look like?
A: (Confers first with his wife.) Aline says she wants her ashes burned and placed in an Art Deco vase. My ashes will have to go with hers. On it should read: "We lived for the pretty things." I guess now we'll have to tell Sophie to do that.
Among the children of engineers, autism and related conditions are found twice as often as in the general population, according to British studies, and are unusually common even in the grandchildren of engineers. Anecdotally, hot spots of autism have been reported in major centers of engineering, including Silicon Valley; Austin, Texas; and Boston’s Route 128 technology ring.
56 comments:
Gillian Carnegie @
Andrea Rosen
525 West 24th Street
NYC
How long will the Fantin Latour moment last? Long I think.
that's fine with me. i enjoy latour and this painting very much.
her show was gorgeous. that particular painting was serious eye candy. i don't usually like flower paintings, but that one was painted so fluidly. i just wanted to eat it.
is focussed,has some density
scott- I was forming my fantin latour comment as I opened this window and awwww you beat me to it.
OK Fantin Latour with a head injury was what I was going to say...I love it.
HFT would never have done the white on white on the left, which is one of the genius moments of this picture. Also the container, and how it looks so plastic and manufactured with those measured marks. The brittleness of the plant material, the rough flat strokes that stand out from the realism. The wierd yellow sphere which is some kind of sad flower that the cheapo florist sends.
very much liked the show, though
the ass hung too high for my taste.
In fact, it shouldn't have been shown
at all. It's like they put it there just
to make sure we remembered who
she was.
But all in all, good paintings.
...though I've seen better
[of her] asses out there...
Question is: If the large ones were painted
at a more modest size (ie easel),
would the show or the paintings
have the same effect? Is scale being
used as a crutch?
You are easily fooled by the fact that this painting refers to the past? That doesn't make it conservative, that means it takes the past into account. No reason to paint, if you're not going to consider/comment on/connect with the past. Otherwise, u-no, make a flash movie. Or commit a crime or something
I agree that taking the past into account when painting doesn't immediately make the work conservative. But, are you saying as a prescription a painter must connect with the past in some way?
The past is over. Move on dot org.
If history says anything...painting about the past is not rewarded unless you are David or Brahms. Everyone else is everyone else.
In 1978, should you buy the Alfred Leslie or the Andy Warhol?
Someone said what makes painting now is that it was painted yesterday. I thought it was a good comment for those born yesterday.
In painting as in life I cant help but make a connection to the past, whether I want to or not. The past is in my blood, in my DNA. No matter how much Id like to move on I never will. So I accept that.
There's some content for you.
hey where's zip?
did he die?
let's move on then.
Does saatchi buy hardware abstractions ?
Is that you HAL?
Interesting closeuup. I admit I'm not a person particularly interested in the past, living in a city where memories are bulldozed around the clock. It never ceases to amaze me.
I do trust vivid memories, though.
Those that are fumes at the back of the mind or that have crawled into some twist in that d-n-a, get dealt with accordingly.
1] bring them up close and get a good look. If there is anything going on that's good I'll pluck it out and send that to the cleaners [not the mob kind].
2]alternatively I wipe the smoldering mildew off the shelf, on account there is high humidity here, and mildew stinks.
Anyway it's a lot more complicated than that, but:
This painting is painted an old-fashioned way, using an old fashioned colorscheme. It feels old fashioned perhaps stacked with memory like a freshly made filmset in a barn of a studio for remake of Franky and Johnnie--the vase a stage prop [made out of that state-of-the-art non-reflect clear paper mache.]
Zip has a job interview today, he'll be back later on to spread the news.
Her flowers is fantastic, especially those at Tate. but rest of work is nothing mixed with nothing. Googling the net without firm results. this is not enough for New York, or probably it is New York who lost its status... we keep good ones for London....
something like this has been inevitable at rosen since currin jumped ship
which i could see it otherwise
England for the English?
um.. i think that's been done before. Soooo NeoCon.
Nicolai, what did you think of the gate painting?
no interview today just working.
working to work to what end?
This is Gillian Carnegies room. Shes been shortlisted for the turner prize for her work exploring the properties of paining.
Her subjects fit loosely in the art historical categories of boring, boring and bland, a law firm to forget.
Paints ina wide range of styles and techniques.
I wish i had the courage to thumb my nose at signature style. Throw caustion tot he wind and paint anything that critiwques the institution.
institutional critique is it that interesting to anyone or am i speaking a private language, written in shorthand by a deaf mute in the air with a willow stick?
NeoCon does not apply to painting otherwise all painting is NeoCon.
Paul Dorrell, an art dealer / blogger from Kansas just wrote a scathing post about the Chelsea / Soho art scene on his blog. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts. Here's the link:
http://pauldorrell.com/blog/index.php/category/tips-for-artists/
i don't think pushers of excrement can be "scathing"
not very scathing, at all, i was humming away to the song. anyway the artists up at his gallery make me want to backflip and proclaim Gillian Carnegie a genius. maybe she is and i with eye different than... Painting for the new century was painting with talent. You knew how to draw. You knew how to abbreviate. You knew how bad painting could actually go without letting it go. You knew painting, that no matter how serious it had to be, had to have the edge, while staying strapped to the recognizable, a graphic awareness, and at least four tablespoons of history, oh, and don't forget the fucking busloads of syrupy pop.
"You knew painting, that no matter how serious it had to be, had to have the edge, while staying strapped to the recognizable, a graphic awareness, and at least four tablespoons of history, oh, and don't forget the fucking busloads of syrupy pop."
-you just gave the secret recipe of John Currin and Cecily Brown.
i like that you only give the visual without texte it's refreshing
you have inspired me
Merci!
Ah! I'm puzzled!
blend a# The act of wrinkling the brow, as in thought, puzzlement, or displeasure.
with b# A facial expression characterized by an upward curving of the corners of the mouth and indicating pleasure, amusement, or derision.
ah the visual bromide, facial expressions!
Whither our brave new world?
Faceless facelessness, facing inward, reflecting nothing but itself, darkening the bright side, lightening the light side, on off on of again and again into the valley of the shadow of death, cannons to the right of the cannons to the left of them,
and not a drop to drink. Or too much. Never too many. These are concepts of quantity. How many paintings to fill a bathtub? How much time to drown? How many minutes? How much breath?
Thus hath the candle singd the moath
A full suit
Cut from whole cloth
Dumb deaf mute;
Only to made meaning am I troth
Blind butcher: Bees, briney, sleights!
little fat man
hi painters, i want to put in a plug for rosalyn drexler at pace... she's a great one.
also, has anybody seen jennifer reeves, merlin james, hight times/hard times? what did you think?
i don't know the work of this painter featured above.. but i love flower painters jane frielicher and lois dodd. burrito brother, what about you?
wow those rosylyn drexlers are eye opening. How come Ive never heard of her?
Hey,
Where does Damien Loeb show now? He isn't on the Boone list...
Maybe damien Loeb put his shirt back on. Or maybe paint by numbers turned his beautifull mind into swiss cheese. Nightmare on Loeb Street. Tubular bells and all that kill kill kill stuff. Italian foregrounded shrubbery. Long shadows and airless nights.
Im lousy at spackling, ill admit it, Im not a knife, just an aspiring suit couching on coffin nails waiting for the big McGuffin to come out of its hole and tell me spring has sprung. That'll be the day. Repetition is repetitious.
Solid backgrounds - you know have a back story and a bulletproof alibi. Why would I lie?
Living off the fat of the lamb.
Nice Blog!
Come see my girl take it all off !
- The LoebsterBot
Nice Blog!
You want access? It's almost like being there !
Meet James Ensor
Belgium's famous painter
Dig him up and shake his hand
Appreciate the man
Before there were junk stores
Before there was junk
He lived with his mother and the torments of Christ
The world was transformed
A crowd gathered round
Pressed against his window so they could be the first
To meet James Ensor
Belgium's famous painter
Raise a glass and sit and stare
Understand the man
He lost all his friends
He didn't need his friends
He lived with his mother and repeated himself
The world has forgotten
The world moved along
The crowd at his window went back to their homes
Meet James Ensor
Meet James Ensor
Belgium's famous painter
Dig him up and shake his hand
Appreciate the man
Damien Loeb has a low brow palette - no sensitivity shown - is that intentional, like a conceptual thing?
If you use solid backgrounds like some of the paintersn mentioned, you get more credit as a sort fo pop person - well Loeb is pop, too - thats mass culture thats low brow.
Can there be a highbrow lowbrow?
A lowenbrau for everyone?
I don't think so.
Thats called universal language, and as the universal adversary, my name is not legion, its mud and more mud. I could use an entire bucket of spackle disguising the brick wall that hides your drexlers, your neil jenney's, grandma noses, your loebs and any of your other chroma challenged "content" providers.
lisa ruyter was selling for big bucks, i know that. She had god on her side, because god is fickle and angry and loves a good art joke. the painting above has a Henri louise maintentant lautrecian palette and a "traced bitmap" "macromedia flash" vibe. Absolutely chilling. Or absolute Ruyter. Not half bad for the summer home, the one in the alps. but to each their own, and from each their flash video - because painting is killed dead like a can of sardines in Darfur. Didnt her husband cheat someone? Or is that water under the goat?
And when it rains, you're shining down for me
And I just can't get enough, I just can't get enough
Just like a rainbow you know you set me free
And I just can't get enough, I just can't get enough
Leprachauns are solid, lucky charm day brah!
My name is mud
Not to be confused with bill or jack or pete or dennis
My name is mud and its always been
cause Im the most boring sons-a-bitch youve ever seen
I dress in blue-yes navy blue
From head to toe Im rather drab except my patent shoes
I make em shine, well most the time
cept today my feet are troddin on by this friend of mine
Six foort two and rude as hell
I got to get him in the ground before he starts to smell
My name is mud
My name is mud, but call me alowishus devadander abercrombie
Thats long for mud so Ive been told
Told that by this sonsabitch that lies before me bloated blue and cold
Ive got my pride, I drink my wine
Id drink the finest except I havent earned a dime in several months
Or were it years
The breath on that fat bastard could bring any man to tears
We had our words, a common spat
So I kissed him upside the cranium with an aluminum baseball bat
My name is mud
I don't want to start
Any blasphemous rumours
But I think that God's
Got a sick sense of humour
And when I die
I expect to find Him laughing
mud star
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out now
She was a day tripper, a one way ticket yea
It took me so long to find out, and I found out
She's a big teaser, she took me half the way there
She's a big teaser, she took me half the way there now
Tried to please her, she only played one night stands
Tried to please her, she only played one night stands now
She was a day tripper, a Sunday driver yea
Took me so long to find out, and I found out
Day tripper
Day tripper yea
transcend
You're a Heartbreaker
Dream Maker, Love Taker
Don't you mess around with me!
You're a Heartbreaker
Dream Maker, Love Taker
Don't you mess around - NO NO NO!
zip who was that sculpture?
itw wendy white im pretty sure - reminds me of several assemblageists though. And im not about to let them get away with that. No no no.
Let us be dilligent in our critique!
Im not fooled by the lush neons of WW's painterly abstractions. No, the void is there. My eye is on that void, andnot the donut of prosperity. My eye is fixed, like glass, underneath the coffee table, a telltale sign that all is not right. "German culture is shit"
as they do da de do dads.
What? SO im mr. negative? No, im just the voice of reason.
And thats the way the donut hole crumbles.
Transcendence is a luxury for the bourgeoise!
Put your best art on the barricades so that they must smash it!
contemplation is a luxury! Put your mind upon the altar and let me cut your ghost from the machine! Let us use the obsidian knife with ivory scrimshawed handle! Let us anoint you with rare oils, and rarer more pungent pigments!
I will record your extasy to be piped into the city subways of joyless hell.
The damned be damned! Let them glimpse heaven! Let them taste ash!
For thine is the kingdom, whimper, bang.
Me, Im crazy about WW's paintings. The neon is strait from the 99c store shining out into the dirty night. Swamp light. Or maybe its that tiny bit of bliss in a sea of negativity. Contrast is what keeps me going --to work. Im walking to work these days so I have an hour to contemplate my decrepitude. Bye
when will wendy be anointed by the marketplace?
When the negative dialectic swings
pit pendulum remainder.
Let the negative dialectic flow, underfoot,
toe.
There's something wrong somewhere here
So through unclean streets
I made my way
With holes in my shoes
And my children asleep at my feet
I paid my way
In every town on the way
The people looked grey
The buildings looked healthy
But one day I met a man
With money to spare
He said he would tell me how it is
The State he began
Has been propping up people too long
For far too long
We all got lazy and couldn't be bothered
To make our way through the world
But we are all bourgeois now
Once there was class war
But not any longer
Because baby we are all bourgeois now
So go out and make your way in the world
We're free to choose
We're all free to choose
We're all free to choose
We're free to choose
In booming Britain we all work together
To raise ourselves in the world
Each of us knows someone
Who has done well for themselves
So well for themselves
"Thank you" I said as I left
I'll be on my way
I see how it is
We are all bourgeois now
And somehow I'll raise myself in the world
I'm free to choose
We're all free to choose
We're all free to choose
I'm free to choose
We're all bourgeois now
We're all bourgeois now
We're bourgeois now
tim and tide, fgood tidings
abide, abide.
R. Crumb said this. Is he kidding??!
Q: If you could design your tombstone, what would it look like?
A: (Confers first with his wife.) Aline says she wants her ashes burned and placed in an Art Deco vase. My ashes will have to go with hers. On it should read: "We lived for the pretty things." I guess now we'll have to tell Sophie to do that.
Among the children of engineers, autism and related conditions are found twice as often as in the general population, according to British studies, and are unusually common even in the grandchildren of engineers. Anecdotally, hot spots of autism have been reported in major centers of engineering, including Silicon Valley; Austin, Texas; and Boston’s Route 128 technology ring.
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