Is Wyeth "modern?" I'd like to hear the arguments for modern vs. whatever - I mean it's not fantasy, or fantastical but there are hints of certain magical realism (which is the argument for the return to the primitive - a tenet of modernism but is it modern? Modernity?) and flavors of his father's pastel heroicism - everyone is a pirate, everyone is on a treasure hunt. WE all actors on this stage, breaking the fourth wall, leave us kids alone.
Like Pearlstein, though, it is "empty" in a way I identify with modern - lack of sentiment, essentially - or sentiment with nuance (iron, mineral salts).
Pearlstein has this lack of sentiment - his palette is a pure pastel hell that sands down your retina's with pepto bismol until the frosted glass of the psychological picture plane leaves you yearning to wipe a portal into real eighties softcore porn.
California uber alles!
The color in Pearlstein really is that bad. It has a tone, but it's tone is deaf.
Like most mainstream porn, it is too evenly lit, calling your attention to the glossiness of the page (like I give a shit).
Wyeth doesn't do that, he has local color, and shadows, real honest to goodness shadows! How long has it been since I've seen one of those in chelsea?
I think people think shadows are a distancing effect - they draw you into the picture instead of pointing you out of the picture.
Which is more modern?
Is lack of allegory modern? Like when every image is what it is, and the snow on the ground is as alive as the crows in the air.
But facing a figure away, as is done here - or doing full frontal (odalesque) gaze, is modern.
Modern eyes.
If wine can be described as "flinty," then this painting is a black and tan composed of equal parts Guiness, meade and juniper berry liquor.
I like big wines, being youngish. Can you taste the dirt? yes.
Oh but painting your friend's wife is innocent, I mean you are clinical, so it's no more risque than surgery. Except when the model behaves in an unprofessional manner, or shall we say, is an amateur.
How many amateurs are doing it for money?
I'd say, in conclusion, that modern contains many elements of what you would call self-reflexive cinematic time - which is to say modernism is actually a return to the primitive - staring into the fire.
By no means the only artist to be influenced by Wyeth, Peter Doig is cinematic - as are many artists working from photographs, getting stoned and generally having a good time.
Painter, Nice to see you back, it’s been too long.
I think we’re witnessing a changing of the guard, saying goodbye to the end a generation who achieved fame with America’s ascendency to world prominence in the arts and communications media. Wyeth, Rauschenberg, Hartigan, Conners, Graham and Sharp, so long…
I don’t think zip was quite finished commenting on the Tuner yet.
she looks up hill into the uncertainty of the future, past and away from the familiar pastoral or maybe further in to it. it's a very beautiful and solitary painting like most of his works, muted eggshell browns greens creams and blondes. jk rightly acknowledges the passing of this sentiment into the great whirlpool of time.
The edge of the road becomes the corner of the grave. The trees feed on corpses. All is lost.
That's not sentiment, it's romantic though - I'm not sure romance is modern - seems more eternal - part of the human condition. Romantics. I hate them.
it's just a term. a big broad one. maybe it got too wide and burst, fracturing into post-modernism and beyond. to me it's kinda silly to ignore the fact that you could call a whole bunch of periods in history modern. the big bubble and all the little fragments are still there to view, preserved in the critical vinegar. in the unending recycle of fashion, its tenets describe various parts of a cultural condition that occurs at various points throughout the epochs, especially when there is a reshaping of the relationship to broader environment. Definitions have to be both rigid and liquid at once. Ice and water. Maybe.. Something like that.
In 1986 a businessman called Leonard Andrews revealed that he had paid an undisclosed sum – said to be several million dollars – for 200 pictures, many of them nude, of a sturdy blonde called Helga Testorf, housemaid to the Kuerners. Wyeth's celebrity, the hint of sex and betrayal (denied by the artist), and the evidence of a 15-year artistic obsession proved an intoxicating cocktail for the press. Both Time and Newsweek put a Helga on their front covers.
I was always iffy about Christina's world, but its actually one of his better works. ;the works profiled in the personal artnet obit didnt really hold up for me. I also think magical realism is a deadly and stultifying term. This painting is pretty good. It seems like wyeth's weakness is overconfidence:overdescription leads to a repitition of succesful motifs and techniques, but this overusage can turn into pastiche if one is not careful. Comparably to Hopper, i dont think he reaches Hopper's level for this reason. This painting is pretty good however. The landscape as a powerful afterthought is quite alive and full of mystery.
Twenty-one poems about young people's ventures into fantasy and unusual adventure.
More details Rackety-bang: And Other Verses By Thomas Rockwell Illustrated by Gail Rockwell Published by Pantheon Books, 1969 57 pages
And "How To Eat Fried Worms."
"Because of a bet, Billy is in the uncomfortable position of having to eat fifteen worms in fifteen days. A hilarious story that will revolt and delight bumptious, unreachable intermediate-grade boys and any other less particular mortals that read or listen to it.... Colorful, original writing in a much-needed comic vein."--Booklist.
Yes, the inkwell was there and we used them for a while when we had fountain pens. But the boys kept dipping the girls hair in the inkwells, so that stopped. Then they went to fountain pen cartridges. and from there the fountain pens went away, and they came out with this new fangled ball point pen. Who knew!!!!
Sit with your anger, and its handmaiden, shame. It isn’t real, but you need to know where it comes from. Figure it out, then don’t worry about it too much. “Just hand the apple back,” she writes. “Just unknow. Because you can.”
oh handmaiden. How shamefull you are.
Tempura tempera temper.
A distmeper
this video tutorial stuff is great. Sort of self help meets self hypnosis meets Pipi Rist.
O womb, how art though, how liek a leaf, watch the tree fall far from the apple.
I looked at Jerry's piece on Wyeth at artnet. That painting they used on the sidebar, On Her Knees, good god that's unpleasant. I used to have this deck of porn playing cards and that was the exact pose they used for the back of the cards, except the woman had her head down. At least helga has her head up, huh? Anyway, I dont begrudge the male gaze, so long as its in its place. Which it never is.
Yeah you look at all the nudes and it's like looking at an artful spread in a photo magazine. Soft core all the way.
Speaking of garden variety voyerism -Webcan fetishist Josh Harris is in the news, - I thought they tried to shop this around a while back - guess they re edited it with better lighning.
"The footage, hours and hours of filmed observation of bunker residents along with recordings of Mr. Harris living with his girlfriend under 24-hour surveillance, sat for years until Ms. Timoner realized that this footage described the world we are all now jacked into.
“It hit me like a bolt of lightning, like no other project I have ever worked on,” she said, sitting next to Mr. Harris outside on an unseasonably warm day. “It was a wired city in a very early stage, and after watching my friends updating their MySpace and Facebook pages, I realized that we had all been there at the start.”
Pfizer is going to buy a drug company called Wyeth.
Wyeth had a big Hollywood collector dude.
They had a show at the MET.
Wyeth does the Met. It was called.
They installed a bronze of Christina crawling towards a scale model of Abraham Lincoln's three walled cabin, on the roof.
That was when the roof was a tiki lounge.
Pfizer has an art collection - they steer clear of controversy, so I doubt they collect nudes. But now would be a good time to sell Wyeths to fund new aquisitions wouldn;t it? All that buzz?
Drugs n' Art - I;d sell to Pfizer. Maybe make some low intensity desaturated orange squares or some pebbles in a row or something neat. Scumbling - lots of scumbling.
FOr Microsofts collection you should frame it - preferably behind plexi, floated in a box. I suggest photographs on alternate grounds like fiber paper or light sensitized tin/aluminum.
In 1976, reviewing the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Wyeth exhibition, John Russell wrote in the New York Times: "It is really rather odd that a nation which rightly prides itself on its buoyancy of spirit should identify so firmly with an artist whose speciality is the study of wounded or inarticulate figures in an unforgiving landscape."
Well it's either Rachete likin; the blog with Peter Max or Brooklyn haters for Erik Benson. I'll take youth culture/hipster inflected Benson over regio-provincialoso Wyeth and "so eighties it sucks IV" Peter Max at this point.
Erik tries so hard to be Euro-cool but he's a romantik, so the skulls creep in. I think it's all the whisky. Decadence with flop sweat all over it, poor bastard.
Is Erik showing in NYC right now? I saw that his latest work had planes and birds in for the skulls.
I came out of work the other day, and its real cold here, I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's cold for here. I saw these two birds and they were kawing REALLY loud. I thought they were just the usual crows but they kept up this INCREDIBLE squawking. I looked up and they were 2 fucking parrots.
I was just following the breadcrumbs from Roebling hall .... to Black and White, which is a sort of middling gallery in Brooklyn with an ATM branch in Chelsea (not as snooty as Roebling Hall, but Roebling hall wasn't a better gallery I don't think, not from what I've seen - catering to pretention or a slicker Pierogi (meaning the punchlines are not written on the work) - so it's definintely a lateral move, straight across. I mean career wise).
Except 31 grand has a hand in there and that means it could be a good move, though the social dynamics could be pretty retarded. Not that you have to go to the shows of the other artists in the stable, but isn't it considered good form?
1.2 Pensive (life is cruel/good/mixed/bored/i can hear a violin over there/wait, it's a cello)
1.5 Pet Cemetary (Helga turns around with a scalpel in her eye/knife in her hand/crow in her mouth/patch on her eye/copy of Interview/maybe it's watchtower)
5.3 Confrontation averted (so much will remain unsaid/unsaid/unsaid/i said)
6.6 Her bag is on her shoulder. (let me go/i have no truck/it's miles away/where is a young strong saviour)
3.2 Wanting. (what/what/what?)
1.1 Resistance (sick old man/what else is there to do/i'm another famous muse who never speaks)
1.0 Complete staging (wasn't supposed to be read/left it open/whatever)
The more I look at it - creepy. In any case it has many suggestives, and the color of a duck. Quack. What size is it? Don't read a duck, dead duck, old quacker. Can't fly, never did, hated change, obsessed with one way. Buried rhetoric. Muted repression approaching grace. Falling from. Cling close to the classic in the classical shift, futility. Utility.
It's not painted in a language i'm familiar with, maybe I was/just don't want to. Sick shit happens in the isolatation of the rural and nobody knows. Sick shit happens in the abundance of the metropol, and everybody/nobody cares. Hooray for population surveillance. Let us survey Helga's head. Oh, my dear.
wyeth was scathing of most other artists explorations'. especially in abstraction. it's not my opinion to cast him there, he carved himself out a place, fusty wyeth. it's not entirely a bad place, i can almost smell the leather. to bring analysis is a solvent. as it melts under, broad and great in modern conception, the of the land type, monumental at a distance - but the closer you look at the sample, the lumpier it gets. like that dark bit on the left behind her. something creeps in. do you want to know? a great deal of weight has been heaped upon his depiction so as to encompass a wide style of land, life and isolation. it's real poetry no doubt. sick as well. but herculean statements dissuade in myth, as afterthought, can you expect paintings to hold the weight a continent. maybe. i don't say yes or no. i just throw up. they're a part of it surely. i might just be squirting kerosene if you know what i mean. it's been cold.
_______________________________________ Corel Painter 63.2.2, Mac Core 9.9thz 77" Wacom, other Monumental shit.
Death is a cliche. But irrelevence or obselescence is quite fascinating. Re: Wyeth or anybody else. For example, check it out over on Fox news these days. In a blink of an eye, they mean nothing. No power for you, as the Soup Nazi would say. In one day, out the next as Heidi Klum would say. Good riddance to the damned I say. Dustbin o history. Too bad Mr Murdoch did make systemic change. Wonder where it will lead?
Unfortunately zipthing and webwung have been laying in wait. Best to completely bury this thing. It's just a joke now anyway. Unfortunately. Thanks for trying....
Or more directly, what does it say about our culture that we celebrate artists when they die, often the only time they are truly recognized.
Is it for closure? Or because we don;t really care about wyeth and hos golden girls?
Is christina's world wyeth's only good painting?
If you make a good paintign are you obligated to repeat it?
What does t say about us when we require artists to repeat their "masterpiece" over and over?
I could go on.
For example, they are turning the land black in rural america, the deep reservoirs are being used up - b ut before that happens they will become salty, with minerals at the bottom of the - well you know, I drink your milkshake!
There's actually a blog called THE ONLY GOOD ARTIST IS A DEAD ONE or at least it used to be called that, now I think it's been shortened to goodasdead.org but it's still a witty take on art criticism.
I made a new blog ,in the spirit of this one, which i love. I made it when i thought this one was defunct. i hope painter doesn't mind! the difference is it will be for emerging artists, specifically the ones toiling away in Bushwick in those huge cold industrial spaces. there will also be the occasional old piece to talk about. and zipthwung, you and your musings are welcome there.
Aw c'mon Webthing, don't take it to heart. What are a few detractors? They're just jealous of you and Zipthwung because you're willing to lay it on the line.
Back where and when the Wyeths were painting, nothing ever changed. Not just the something that never changes, but everything else too. Years and endless years of it. That's why the repetition and "overdescription" that cookie mentioned.
Nowadays change never stops, it's our constant challenge, artists running around trying to capture the multiplicity like crazy, multiple medias, styles et al.
Both show the limitations that artists operate under, as they should. Humans cant be limitless
Frankly I find Wyeth tedious, all that in-your-face technique and bland austerity. It’s not magical realism just prosaic romanticism. What’s the point trying to relate it to modernism or Modernism? It’s traditional to a fault. I remember when the Helga series were first promoted I think there was a book and people were sort of curious about AW’s private life – like there might be something more than the diligent recorder of textures and weathering. But not really – people were really just more crusty specimens to be carefully described, with the odd little flourish to let you know who’s boss. Oooh that technique! Fearlessly describing just another 'physique' - what was her name again?...
That’s why he gets dismissed as an illustrator.
Over on the Art News blog there’s a post about him where a case for his spirituality is made, he’s seen on a par with Rothko or Newman (Barnett rather than Paul or Alfred E.) and I thought about this for a while and decided if so then it’s a pretty mean spiritedness, a repressed and reactionary sort of soul. It’s regionalism for the provincial, hammy anecdote like Christina’s World for those that miss the Saturday Evening Post and think of Oklahoma as opera.
The issue of repetition or theme and variation in an artist’s work is fascinating and complex, but wasted on Wyeth
Running on empty. Chevy levy dry. By bye Pie. I was born in the Bayou There's a darkness on the edge and there I looked down Wrapped up like a deuce This land is your my land Shot a man in reno Stand by your man America Proud to be an american Ein Svei Drei.
I was in Philly waiting for the bus and there's a self described alcoholic student on the right and a guy in a neck brace on the left.
The alcoholic goes, hey, what happened?
The guy in the neck brace goes, I hurt myself fucking. Pinched a nerve.
I love that shit.
Not like this pissy little namby pamby bullshit for uptight folks (my parents). Oh Helga, what ever are you doing out in the field?
Collecting clover?
Not to say that I want to hear too much information (my parents wisely avoided bars, even Irish ones), but too much information is what goes on, is what all the romantics want when they say they want real, the modern, the human, the primal.
Is it ugly? Well yeah, it is. But it's also the truth. Which is what a lot of art students need to get in touch with, as far as their output (or give up any pretention of being avant guard).
I mean the market sucks, so there's plenty of time for the truth, as opposed to estheticized or ironic reality.
Now wyeth might have a certain flinty realism - but we all know it's romantic cocksucking bullshit as far as most people are concerned. Even for artists, who often never have a bad thing to say about art, so worried they are that the meaningless nihilism real criticism will pop the enchanted kingdom of art.
Wyeth lived in a fantasy world as deep as his old man's.
The same world that thought "Nine to Five" was a feminist's dream.
Now, I'm a hypocrite, but right here I'm providing the rope, and lots of it.
Wyeth is like Boxing Helena for the soft core set.
i have always thought Wyeth felt so good. naked body, light streaming, lots of detailed hairs, paint all over her bush...there's beauty in his minutae.
is there protocol here? may I join? webthing, you're the best, I joined to get closer to you.
Egg dries fast and lasts a long time. I have such a hard time thinking in histories... hope the ambivalence of history is real.
She looks like she's staring at a blackboard with lots of things left to do. Or else, here's the will, left in a really bleak prairie.
I once modelled for someone for a year who insisted in sitting on his stool legs spread with balls out to one side, granted it was a hot studio. Amateur. There's a complicitness to the model sitting there for 15 years and being handled vicariously. He just sits there and paints why she complies.
hey andy in this one can you look at my back, so I can make googly eyes? stop looking at my eyelashes
let's have the show already because we are not in love anymore by now and I'm tired of not checking my mail on time ..stop looking at my eyelashes.
It all about how much story we can make in there...with a good lede, you can be left hanging for awhile and if the come-around wrap is clever you forgive (the brain lapse) what they couldn't tell you. so much space to project personal perfection. Is that what models are for, is this what good painting does? yew yew yew...
Good god knows he painted one face a long time. Slow learner or inscrutable vixen? All paint dries out eventually, even the underlayers.
All the rapture there ever was is here in your body Nowhere else Painters have painted their ways in to bodies since the time we know about Understanding stances by the tilt of a bone set, looking at the nose and the hairlip, how they join up, twist and reveal the years, I mean the mean set of thought-thoughts of this particular eye-set. What is this surging flies-eyes personality, looking-glass thing we have goin on in computers, in our pictures? How many can you be in so many ways? Real paper letters make this look evil now, the touch of a madman-- This letter was touched by a madman! A computer has no prints but what the mind makes. (Dig the gravy!) Real letters would get you to jail. (Who knew Pessoa was the futurist?) But these electronic glibs Splice and dice and grow ourselves big brains-- The beauty of brains! The brains make us do it. Like stocks splitting, printing our own credit. Its fine as fine as you feel We are making of ourselves pets to carry in our pockets Pocket Pals. (Helga was Raggedy Andy's Pocket Pal) Are you ready for this? It's all the rage; it's about Time… Let's go Separate!
Ever live a life that's real Full of zest, but no appeal Ever want to cry so much You want to die Ever feel that you've been had Had so much that you turn mad Ever been depressed that (to) those you turn to, you bring distress Ever sit in tormenting silence That turns so loud, you start to scream Ever take control of a dream And play all the parts and set all the scenes Ever do nothing and gain nothing from it Ever feel stupid and then know that you really are Ever think you're smart and then find out you aren't Ever play the fool and then find out that you're worse Ever look at a flower and hate it Ever see a couple kissing and get sickened by it Ever wish the human race didn't exist And then realize you're one too Well, have you ... ever .. I have So What
You know she really looks my mother from the back. When she was young she would wear her hair like this, same exact color and age I remember her kind of sane. It bothers me this picture for this reason. I must admit. not that this matters a hill of beans--that all images have this vulnerability to each viewer at a time.
There is something precious about these Helgas that is undeniable. The palpability of time he makes here keeps you waiting with her. Isn't there a "wait and see" sentiment that makes this good?
The old gray mare, she kicked on the whiffletree, Kicked on the whiffletree, kicked on the whiffletree The old gray mare, she kicked on the whiffletree Many long years ago.
Consider the long drippy earrings, Costume. Before you ask, Come with nothing if you can To her. Don't remember she is a girl, she is a painter, She is a color, A lesson, A meal, a play, A dress, a mate, a river, a star, A game, a giggler, a twinkle, A mother, a player, a parker, a bather, A coffee, a toast, a morning waker- dinner maker Don't remember you ever kissed her, Don’t remember she was yours or you Touched her anywhere, If you can. Sweat the night's mingle out. Read your paper. Write your this and that. Drink your huge coffee vat. Make your muscle big. Watch some guns, eat some meat. Watch her dressing jiggle. Grab what you see. Try to forget You are the heartbreak dangling from her ears.
because i feel nothing when I see this.I feel repression and nerd-ness,aspergers-the person you did not want to know in highschool-a certain sickliness.
selling t-shirts: "I'm kin na myself" $29.99 on that pay the pal please support the "common one"
Can you meet me in the country In the summertime in England Will you meet me? Will you meet me in the country In the summertime in England Will you meet me? We'll go riding up to Kendal in the country In the summertime in England. Did you ever hear about Did you ever hear about Did you ever hear about Wordsworth and Coleridge, baby? Did you ever hear about Wordsworth and Coleridge? They were smokin' up in Kendal By the lakeside Can you meet me in the country in the long grass In the summertime in England Will you meet me With your red robe dangling all around your body With your red robe dangling all around your body Will you meet me Did you ever hear about . . . William Blake T. S. Eliot In the summer In the countryside They were smokin' Summertime in England Won't you meet me down Bristol Meet me along by Bristol We'll go ridin' down Down by Avalon Down by Avalon Down by Avalon In the countryside in England With your red robe danglin' all around your body free Let your red robe go. Goin' ridin' down by Avalon Would you meet me in the country In the summertime in England Would you meet me? In the Church of St. John . . . Down by Avalon . . . . Holy Magnet Give you attraction Yea, I was attracted to you. Your coat was old, ragged and worn And you wore it down through the ages Ah, the sufferin' did show in your eyes as we spoke And the gospel music The voice of Mahalia Jackson came through the ether Oh my common one with the coat so old And the light in the head Said, daddy, don't stroke me Call me the common one. I said, oh, common one, my illuminated one. Oh my high in the art of sufferin' one. Take a walk with me Take a walk with me down by Avalon Oh, my common one with the coat so old And the light in her head. And the sufferin' so fine Take a walk with me down by Avalon And I will show you It ain't why, why, why It just is. Would you meet me in the country Can you meet me in the long grass In the country in the summertime Can you meet me in the long grass Wait a minute With your red robe . . . Danglin' all around your body. Yeats and Lady Gregory corresponded . . . And James Joyce wrote streams of consciousness books . . . T.S. Eliot chose England . . . T.S. Eliot joined the ministry . . . Did you ever hear about . . . Wordsworth and Coleridge? Smokin' up in Kendal They were smokin' by the lakeside . . . Let your red robe go . . . Let your red robe dangle in the countryside in England We'll go ridin' down by Avalon In the country In the summertime With you by my side Let your red robe go . . . You'll be happy dancin' . . . Let your red robe go . . . Won't you meet me down by Avalon In the summertime in England In the Church of St. John . . . Did you ever hear about Jesus walkin' Jesus walkin' down by Avalon? Can you feel the light in England? Can you feel the light in England? Oh, my common one with the light in her head And the coat so old And the sufferin' so fine Take a walk with me Oh, my common one, Oh, my illuminated one Down by Avalon . . . Oh, my common one . . . Oh, my storytime one Oh, my treasury in the sunset Take a walk with me And I will show you It ain't why . . . It just is . . . Oh, my common one With the light in the head And the coat so old Oh, my high in the art of sufferin' one . . . Oh, my common one Take a walk with me Down by Avalon And I will show you It ain't why . . . It just is. Oh, my common one with the light in her head And the coat so fine And the sufferin' so high . . . All right now. Oh, my common one . . . It ain't why . . . It just is . . . That's all That's all there is about it. It just is. Can you feel the light? I want to go to church and say. In your soul . . . Ain't it high? Oh, my common one Oh, my storytime one Oh, my high in the art of sufferin' one Put your head on my shoulder . . . And you listen to the silence. Can you feel the silence?
To an American, meanwhile, those early postwar abstract painters (Ernst Wilhelm Nay, for one) look inventive, not escapist. On the other hand Mr. Kiefer, Mr. Baselitz and Beuys, in the name of confronting history, seem to have turned from anarchic acts of constructive mayhem, which usefully rattled complacent Germans at first, increasingly toward works about myth, mysticism and nature: grand themes that sometimes uncomfortably recalled Nazi motifs and diverted their production toward new forms of pompous escapism.
these days? not so hard to tell i wouldnt think. they all made their money in 06 and now we are paying out, one way or another. very purposeful, kiddies.
puroposeful like oliver twist--im a rapper w/o a rhyme
where to start? the idea of a patron doesnt hold as much appeal as a muse these days for a certain set of idiots. oh there are always ways to survive and gourmet salt is nice but doesnt stick around very long, solves to the river with the shit. fame is difficult, power moreso. This stuff doesnt usually inspire better work, but maybe more production, more talent searchers for the assistants to the assistants.
It's grotesque in an attractive to the candy-striper way.
high living is nice and chatty but whole living is something other certainly also kinda difficult. Neil Young said he found himself in the river with the heart of gold so tried to throw himself in a ditch.
but then you know it always comes down to the costs of higher education, the more you see how expensive it is, the more expensive it is. So the non-idiots always win.
I'm gonna say this once and for all for all, idiots and non-idiots alike. You can't smell a painting! Plus we didn't even see the thing properly did we? Loose digital translations...yew sweat at nyet. And then did Wyeth show us the painting he wanted to show us, or just the painting that happened to lying around in painter's hardrive?
It's hard to judge a man's body of work by one painting, it's true, it's true for all involved.
If you can't smell the lizard rapport is fragile. especially when the punctuation of the rectangle (nothing personal, history of painting) is so forlornly inadequate to convey real tone.
Some paintings you don't need to smell to get to the meaning. That post on LondonPainting right now I wouldnt even want to smell on Roots Row. But some you just wish you could cause you know it'd be better/good.
And here I really am talking about structural limitations, not the creative endeavors.
I mean... Wyeth should have at least put a couple of butterfles in that meadow to give us hope, because that meadow, as La previously stated, that meadow is bleak. For God sakes a body can't even tell whether it's day or night.
yeah but it seems like thats the way they do it these days. i mean all my single friends do internet dating and then they wonder why they get all these shitty dates. i recommend hittin on people that smell good, follow them on the street. thats how i met my husband -on the street. so glad i was drunk and he talked to me...
Okay everyone, back to work. There’s nothing more to see here. We’ve all been stimulated enough for one package. I knew you would come through for me, you don’t know how much it means. ‘The price of everything and the value of nothing?’ Pshaw! What greater duty can there be than protecting one’s own kind, first? Looking after the trade, the calling, the blood, brother and the next in line, can you dig it? We have earned this by a silver ballot followed by a stake straight to heart of a mass gravy train to heaven and all stations east. Oh yes. So prepare to move on, if you start to cry, I’ll walk on by. Now that we have helped you shed your homes and jobs, that should be easy. Welcome to the desert with no name, the natives without reservations.
Pretend we’re strangers when we meet.
Our isolationist heritage is preserved and we can safely turn our backs on the bright lights, big city, embrace the shadows of vacant real estate and regionalist angst. You know you want to. What’s that? You’re sick with love and fain would lie down? Is there a Dulles doctrine the house? Is this a ghost I see before me? A union made in hell if not the south. Don’t let the son go down on the help, shine a light on me, dream of a peasantry convinced of pleasantry. Take that to the bank and beow-chikka-wah-wah yessir I can boogie.
Speaking as one dedicated to the fine arts, including self-preservation, I’d just like to say this business as usual doesn’t mean we can’t have fun in numbers, right? And we’re talking big numbers. Sure one man’s bailout is another’s protectionism, but what do you know about competition, beauty and a bailout made in heaven anyway? Grace under pressure? Oh you don’t know the half of it – blonds in bondage, contracted to the land – hey I’ve lived those fantasies, on the inside and trading up, a holiday homeland where neighbors are the biggest enemy. I call it self reservation. You know what I love about America? It’s so private.
I came very close to interviewing Mr. Wyeth in early 2008. I think I would have learned a lot had it happened. I interviewed his pupil, Bo Bartlett. He does some amazing work.
i hope someone deserving artist gets the melancholia goblet, it would suck if it went to someone who isn't clinically depressed or has a minor case of the didn't ask to be borns.
U2 sounded better when they were yearning and not acting urgent.
Earnestly corny instead of urgently cheeseball.
I just don't buy urgent - because if it was urgent you'd be yelling like a banshee and burning shit down, or at least sharpening your shank and keeping quiet.
“This is an emergency, If I would have known they didn’t have McNuggets, I wouldn’t have given my money, and now she wants to give me a McDouble, but I don’t want one,” Latreasa L. Goodman told police. “This is an emergency.”
Was it as bad as it sounds? Did you get into the "artists only" lounge?
Some of the Visual Culture components featured at Bridge Art Fair will include: --Art and comics bookstore/reading room --Record store/audio listening lounge with sound art installations --Video art and cinema theater --Video/new media arcade --Performance art esplanade --Live music/events stage --Artists-only lounge --Use of external landscape for special projects
Bridge is a mix of total crap to good work - but it floats if you pretend its a craft fair that artists snuck into.
I want to see the topless woman at Volta (NYT) Are the smaller fairs "strictly entry level?" Sounds like a quote from a competitor.
In what sense? I wonder what makes art have levels like that. Is it like top shelf?
I mean smaller fairs can say stuff larger fairs don't dare touch (Kitch AS kitch) elitism can filter out anything authentic and replaces art and artists with a simulacrum of art and artist.
get a lawyer, is all I can say.
I mean it's a floating world isn't it?
No alcohol allowed on premises (didn't come up I guess). Like a prom. What dixie cups are for.
Upscale tupperware parties. Do you have a pen? But people are nice enough,if you aren't boring, which I am in person. I'm an idiot. Really. A real shut in. Just a tourist. Along for the ride.
don't give me artspeak don't give me poems don't give me vernacular don't give me streetlip don't give me qwerty don't give me machismo don't give me vulnerability well then what do you want not sure art is where you bury it word is when you try to dig it back up dogs and bones bones and soil flowers
he made a loud stink that the director was "pathetic" among other things, because there were no shuttles (oops) as advertised even though collectors take cars and besides there were plenty of bigwigs coming through in a down market. I heard plenty of people lost money in Miami. I heard people are in it for the art, now, because that's what they got into it in the first place for, was the art. I heard (from my mom) that the ecomonmy is going to be in the shitter for 10 years. I heard I'm going to get paid. I heard facebook is great. I heard Facebook is stupid. I heard kanye is into his new "datamoshing" video. I saw some other people doing this a while ago, funny how people thik they cant do something if it's been done. I can fake this look using displacement maps and such, such as.
it's funny coz my old dvd player could do it all by itself on occasion. who invented the error read? nobody. freak occurrence.
but i think takeshi re-did it best, still to this day. everyone else can crossover and possibly emulate, but some just do it better. that's how it works. it's like anyone could do a drip painting, or can they?
Sometimes it’s hard to see the work for the labels, sometimes it’s hard to see the labels for the work. Neither is helpful. When I get overwhelmed by labels I know I need to look away and take a rest. When I get lost in a work, I know I’m not working hard enough.
But who gets to strike the happy balance every time?
No, we don’t want ‘poetry’ or ‘art’ if we can’t get past the inverted commas, but we flounder with the work that doesn’t relate, reference without enough reference.
It’s like when artists go on about ‘testing boundaries’, and then when their work is rejected complain about ‘intolerance’. Well you can’t have a test, if you’re not prepared to accept failure as a possibility. But they really want it both ways – to boldly go beyond public standards, and for the public to accept them.
Everyone loves the idea of being a pioneer, except for the part about hardship.
It’s the same with labels. We want them to apply to a comfortable bulk of works, to be comprehensive, but we love the idea of the work that doesn’t fit. Which is more important - making the label or breaking it?
Do you tell the world who you are, or does the world tell you who you are? Cap, take a walk down a very dark alley some evening real soon and find out. Or keep hiding behind the paradox.
If we need reference in a work, and the test fails and there is no reference, what then? fail and wait, and burn. If the test succeeds and there is reference, and also failure, and seventeen other parables? succeed and fade, and float. Jazz. If the test succeeds and there is reference, and little else? Purchased now, lost later.
Some commerical and independent gallerists are moving towards educucational models. That used to happen more in museums. Is it because:
A. They need the income B. A bona-fide lesson secures a real buyer more than dinner & 2 bottles of moet used to. C. Money can't talk at the moment. D. We're in for a good thinking. E. They genuinely want to advance public understanding.
Great times ahead, i'm serious. Temper that hedon and absorb the pain, we're back on the building blocks now that the balloons are burst, Damien Burst. Fail and sail.
I'm not so good tutoring art. (i get the narrative mixed up but I can talk shop all day)
And Honestly, how can you compete with the reams of shit already written?
Make a cosmology so dense and ironic it's indecipherable as anything but poetry. Oh but you, you get it because you are smart.
On the other hand, if you are trying to engage with the institutional critique model, there seems to be either no learning curve (its a punk party in the man's house everybody!) or a very ironicly steep learning curve (I mean the institution of institutional critique defending it's teritory from upstart critiquers)
But Jazz standards can go out there and then come back. I like that model despite the obvious problems comparing visual art to jazz as most people know it.
One thing though - some people like lyrical stuff, and some people like smearing shit on the walls. I have a hard time differentiating the two beasts in the wild - often a two backed one with fangs.
I guess what I'm saying is I'm no dealer, just a nerd with a world most collectors would find disapointing without serious stage craft.
I talked about my shoes to the last strangers I met - one of whom was kind enough to comment that they had had the same pair. I mean they were real pros.
you will never go wrong discussing shoes. my brother found himself sitting next to diana ross one night (backstage at the grammys, my bro was working) and he said to her, nice shoes, and they talked for an hour.
...your world is all you have, insight and confidence rather than stagecraft is perhaps what WT is saying.
It was a terrible party anyways. I'll mannered hostess and insecure people. I think I can train them if I make work they can sell. I'll try to experiment and let you know.
A friend of mine says its good to meet peopel when you are nobody because then you know who they are.
“Allison has gotten a lot of attention over the past three years.” Among those that went were Big Wooly Monkey Head (2008), which sold for $14,500 to a New York collector;
Martha S says: “The thing about editorial photo shoots,” mused a pal later, “however high the production values, is they put enough references together and hope it insinuates enough to ‘mean’ something . . .” Something like that."
IS that what you mean by crossing over - from land to water? I find if I worry too much about meaning embedded in an object like a bullet is idolatry, but I cant fault the lady martha skewers:
“It’s a totally new piece, very interactive.”
Like she just got the memo. Poor lady. Wrong memo.
gneumatic: (taking notes during a talk by Murata) No significant use of code in Takeshi Murata’s work (other than automating simple tasks) – not sure if that makes me happy or sad…
jeez i have no concern about how its done. or who actually did it first. or that it means "glitches" im just interested in what it signifies. cultural time and place. just sayin black men know a lot about crossing over, as do we all. where you stand, who you are. dying on the mountain. all that. arcades and barricades.
But Roberta said photoshop was programming and cathy grayson said editing out pframes in compressed video is "hacking the way a DVD player reads DVDS."
I just dont think they care either.
But yes, the most interesting thing is the foment of the moment. I can dig no message is a message for example.
Everyone's a magpie.
I don't need no hook for this shit.
And as far as crossing over, you have to have a here before you can go there.
he more you ignore me The closer I get Youre wasting your time The more you ignore me The closer I get Youre wasting your time
I will be In the bar With my head On the bar I am now A central part Of your minds landscape Whether you care Or do not Yeah, Ive made up your mind
The more you ignore me The closer I get Youre wasting your time The more you ignore me The closer I get Youre wasting your time
Beware ! I bear more grudges Than lonely high court judges When you sleep I will creep Into your thoughts Like a bad debt That you cant pay Take the easy way And give in Yeah, and let me in Oh, let me in Oh let me ... Oh, let me in Its war Its war Its war Its war Its war War War War War Oh, let me in Ah, the closer I get Ah, youre asking for it Ah, the closer I get Ooh, the closer I ...
Carbon created this award-winning campaign to reinforce the leadership of Robitussin®, while also demonstrating its powerful cough and congestion relief. The campaign showcases the brand’s deep-rooted relief, with tree roots representing not only the product’s 50-year heritage, but also the lungs that Robitussin® clears of congestion, reassuring healthcare professionals that they can confidently recommend Robitussin® to their patients.
Due to Kathy's braid being stuck in the door and the force of the collision, she is killed instantly. Her body is subsequently dumped in a ravine and her death staged to look like an accidental fall.
BUTTE, Mont. (AP) -- A small plane crashed Sunday as it approached an airport in Montana, killing 17 people, including several children, a Federal Aviation Administration spokesman said.
Nick is a feckless television salesman who gets fired and impulsively decides that he and his girlfriend, Beth, will move to Butte, MT, which he's read is "the city of the future." "I read that a while ago, so the future should be there by now," he enthuses.
Hey Jerry throws lisa yuskavage under the bus in NYMag. It's good to be the king huh? she dont need him. looks like jerry is approaching irrelivancy more than yuskavage. he says lisa knows too much while he jumps on the bandwagon with the terminally confused...well whats a baby boomer to do?
yeah saltz critiques (fluff piece- agit prop for dumb people/damning with faint praise) a show at the boiler (haven't been seems nice but I'm not so into Pierogi's dealio on the whole.
But press is press.
Same way with Yuskavage - shedefinitely can use press though - who can't.
In the same way, Jerry is championing his crowd which ceases to amaze with novelty and fails to generate interesting takes for conversation - something that spells death to the chattering classes.
But writing for the popular audience has it's limits - there needs to be something deep going on to translate into the shallow ripples. I don't think he has a clue. Which is what hes telegraphing.
Im sympathetic to Jerrys predicament. It's hard to feel joy when youre old. At best you might feel some satisfaction which is not far from smugness and hard to justify or play out gracefully. However hard earned. So you careen around looking for a messy thrill. In this case knowing something becomes a negative. Rooting around in the muck and the mire is again exciting but hello, East Village 1980. Not so new, even with the conceptual tacked on it.
As per Cold War Kids:
Careless in our summer clothes splashing around in the muck and the mire Careless in our summer clothes splashing around in the muck and the mire
fell asleep with stains cake deep in the knees what a pain
now hang me up to dry you wrung me out too too too many times now hang me up to dry I'm pearly like the whites the whites of your eyes
all mixed up in the wash hot water bleeding our colors all mixed up in the wash hot water bleeinding our colors
any mention is gassoline. Any tension is trampoline Any dimension is another dimension andy intention is vaseline And contention will rupture my spleen vanity sanity candy manatee If I only had a brain
Backlashes come backlashes go. And Jerry likes the lash!
I always had the impression he endorsed LY (+ Currin, R.Ackermann, R.Lowe, etc) in the early 90s, but maybe my memory fails me. And now he needs to put that behind him in order to see something new. No sweat. We all shift allegiances from time to time.
What will the new thing be? I think pretty obviously it's going to be more social or political, rather than private, sex and fashion issues. The times are a-pressing. But beyond that it’s hard to know what the formal issues will be. I hope we don’t go back to Neo-Ex, but I get the feeling everyone’s sick of the art history pastiche and virtuosity trip and may go primitive, if only to flirt with abstraction. There’s plenty of that around anyway, (see Saatchi’s Abstract America) but nothing that really bites yet. At least not to me.
But if I were a critic intent on forward scouting, that’s where I’d be looking.
Dana really got out of the comfort zone, and I admire that. The colors are hideous, so that's good. She's doing some very strange things stylistically. One of those paintings reminds me of a Ben Shaun or something. I like the patterning jokes, and the see thu things. Pretty good.
YOUR MACHINATIONS the TRANSLUCENCY, tepidity. treading over THE PAST, i can see NOW. SOME OF THE ROBES, those HOT ROBES. they used to be a dull vermillion. and now they are a pastel. and the designer patterns on the sky. yes you are right. BLENDED LIKE water in your frizzy hair. Someone has been reading other images. ANd here they come in the filter.
I find the results mixed. You could always tell her favorite mark was those little rounded blobs – highlights, bubbles, spots, drops, whatever, right from the start. Everything is basically an extended or expanded blob in Dana world.
And I can see how the acrylic stains and ziggy patterning sort of carry that to larger areas. So the mark-making is more unified and relieves outline of other issues (width, color, detail) to some extent. But it does tend to flatten things out in a way that fights with the content sometimes. Like that weird drop-shadow effect on the card players - I can’t for the life of me think what that’s supposed to do. A shallow depth, like some kind of Cubism? Then lets skip perspective, but of course with that we compromise content.
I come back to very traditional debates about line versus point, tone or volume and depth. I didn’t find this show as much fun as the last, there were less of those anecdotal ones like the blind foot masseur which is probably what we’ve come to expect, and the stab at history painting (was it called The Signing?) – that works better than the JPEG suggests. But I was reminded as much of Dufy as Guston. Guston figuring in comments elsewhere.
I didn’t get a digital vibe (re: Webthing), but those issues of streamlining depth, scale, etc have their counterparts there, for me.
Overall you get the sense of a precocious magpie pecking at a seed cone.
Color sense is somewhere between waterfront tourist village -unblended matisse, gaugin - has the abrupt flow halt of acrylic applied with a heavy (expressionist) hand.
Imitation of - like a child prodigy doing the famous artist. SO you want to be a modern primitive? I can dig that. Glad there's an audience for it. Me I'm going Power Point.
But what is the game here? Make it active? Too slow for for me. I need visual Sudoku.
This page used to be listed under Reviews until a day or so ago. But it’s a well-designed site, unlike the shitty Frieze, and the review can still be searched out.
276 comments:
1 – 200 of 276 Newer› Newest»Welcome back!
farewell andrew, i posted about this too...
welcome back! do you think its safe? what if zipp and web thing et al return...
Is Wyeth "modern?" I'd like to hear the arguments for modern vs. whatever - I mean it's not fantasy, or fantastical but there are hints of certain magical realism (which is the argument for the return to the primitive - a tenet of modernism but is it modern? Modernity?) and flavors of his father's pastel heroicism - everyone is a pirate, everyone is on a treasure hunt. WE all actors on this stage, breaking the fourth wall, leave us kids alone.
Like Pearlstein, though, it is "empty" in a way I identify with modern - lack of sentiment, essentially - or sentiment with nuance (iron, mineral salts).
Pearlstein has this lack of sentiment - his palette is a pure pastel hell that sands down your retina's with pepto bismol until the frosted glass of the psychological picture plane leaves you yearning to wipe a portal into real eighties softcore porn.
California uber alles!
The color in Pearlstein really is that bad. It has a tone, but it's tone is deaf.
Like most mainstream porn, it is too evenly lit, calling your attention to the glossiness of the page (like I give a shit).
Wyeth doesn't do that, he has local color, and shadows, real honest to goodness shadows! How long has it been since I've seen one of those in chelsea?
I think people think shadows are a distancing effect - they draw you into the picture instead of pointing you out of the picture.
Which is more modern?
Is lack of allegory modern? Like when every image is what it is, and the snow on the ground is as alive as the crows in the air.
But facing a figure away, as is done here - or doing full frontal (odalesque) gaze, is modern.
Modern eyes.
If wine can be described as "flinty," then this painting is a black and tan composed of equal parts Guiness, meade and juniper berry liquor.
I like big wines, being youngish. Can you taste the dirt? yes.
Oh but painting your friend's wife is innocent, I mean you are clinical, so it's no more risque than surgery. Except when the model behaves in an unprofessional manner, or shall we say, is an amateur.
How many amateurs are doing it for money?
I'd say, in conclusion, that modern contains many elements of what you would call self-reflexive cinematic time - which is to say modernism is actually a return to the primitive - staring into the fire.
By no means the only artist to be influenced by Wyeth, Peter Doig is cinematic - as are many artists working from photographs, getting stoned and generally having a good time.
oh god, he's back . sorry painter. you tried...
amerrycane
amerrycaynt
ameri can
Painter,
Nice to see you back, it’s been too long.
I think we’re witnessing a changing of the guard, saying goodbye to the end a generation who achieved fame with America’s ascendency to world prominence in the arts and communications media. Wyeth, Rauschenberg, Hartigan, Conners, Graham and Sharp, so long…
I don’t think zip was quite finished commenting on the Tuner yet.
she looks up hill into the uncertainty of the future, past and away from the familiar pastoral or maybe further in to it. it's a very beautiful and solitary painting like most of his works, muted eggshell browns greens creams and blondes. jk rightly acknowledges the passing of this sentiment into the great whirlpool of time.
The edge of the road becomes the corner of the grave. The trees feed on corpses. All is lost.
That's not sentiment, it's romantic though - I'm not sure romance is modern - seems more eternal - part of the human condition. Romantics. I hate them.
What is modern anyways?
it's just a term. a big broad one. maybe it got too wide and burst, fracturing into post-modernism and beyond. to me it's kinda silly to ignore the fact that you could call a whole bunch of periods in history modern. the big bubble and all the little fragments are still there to view, preserved in the critical vinegar. in the unending recycle of fashion, its tenets describe various parts of a cultural condition that occurs at various points throughout the epochs, especially when there is a reshaping of the relationship to broader environment. Definitions have to be both rigid and liquid at once. Ice and water. Maybe.. Something like that.
by one way it's been put in a jar on the shelf, and in another it was there before it was named and still runs about at large, wanted. ech...
by the way r,i,p mr.wyeth
this painting is entitled:
"Helga from the Back of a Ford Truck After Not Having Sex Again"
"Tailgate Party #2: Helga"
In 1986 a businessman called Leonard Andrews revealed that he had paid an undisclosed sum – said to be several million dollars – for 200 pictures, many of them nude, of a sturdy blonde called Helga Testorf, housemaid to the Kuerners. Wyeth's celebrity, the hint of sex and betrayal (denied by the artist), and the evidence of a 15-year artistic obsession proved an intoxicating cocktail for the press. Both Time and Newsweek put a Helga on their front covers.
I was always iffy about Christina's world, but its actually one of his better works. ;the works profiled in the personal artnet obit didnt really hold up for me. I also think magical realism is a deadly and stultifying term. This painting is pretty good. It seems like wyeth's weakness is overconfidence:overdescription leads to a repitition of succesful motifs and techniques, but this overusage can turn into pastiche if one is not careful. Comparably to Hopper, i dont think he reaches Hopper's level for this reason. This painting is pretty good however. The landscape as a powerful afterthought is quite alive and full of mystery.
golden hour
sexy nape, nice braids, on her way, ripe and dead at the same time. weird flattening...color and brightness of near and far is the same.
Romantics are smart people playing with death. What else you gonna do while you wait?
n'est ce pas?
arbeit macht frei!
Jeez who was greater Normal Rockwell or Wyeth Earth?
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley
Twenty-one poems about young people's ventures into fantasy and unusual adventure.
More details
Rackety-bang: And Other Verses
By Thomas Rockwell
Illustrated by Gail Rockwell
Published by Pantheon Books, 1969
57 pages
And "How To Eat Fried Worms."
"Because of a bet, Billy is in the uncomfortable position of having to eat fifteen worms in fifteen days. A hilarious story that will revolt and delight bumptious, unreachable intermediate-grade boys and any other less particular mortals that read or listen to it.... Colorful, original writing in a much-needed comic vein."--Booklist.
Apples and worms. They just go together.
Nape of neck fetish.
Yes, the inkwell was there and we used them for a while when we had fountain pens. But the boys kept dipping the girls hair in the inkwells, so that stopped. Then they went to fountain pen cartridges. and from there the fountain pens went away, and they came out with this new fangled ball point pen. Who knew!!!!
Is this tempera? I never could see the attraction.
Sit with your anger, and its handmaiden, shame. It isn’t real, but you need to know where it comes from. Figure it out, then don’t worry about it too much. “Just hand the apple back,” she writes. “Just unknow. Because you can.”
oh handmaiden. How shamefull you are.
Tempura tempera temper.
A distmeper
this video tutorial stuff is great. Sort of self help meets self hypnosis meets Pipi Rist.
O womb, how art though, how liek a leaf, watch the tree fall far from the apple.
yea to the pippi longstocking refs.
I looked at Jerry's piece on Wyeth at artnet. That painting they used on the sidebar, On Her Knees, good god that's unpleasant. I used to have this deck of porn playing cards and that was the exact pose they used for the back of the cards, except the woman had her head down. At least helga has her head up, huh? Anyway, I dont begrudge the male gaze, so long as its in its place. Which it never is.
Yeah you look at all the nudes and it's like looking at an artful spread in a photo magazine. Soft core all the way.
Speaking of garden variety voyerism -Webcan fetishist Josh Harris is in the news, - I thought they tried to shop this around a while back - guess they re edited it with better lighning.
"The footage, hours and hours of filmed observation of bunker residents along with recordings of Mr. Harris living with his girlfriend under 24-hour surveillance, sat for years until Ms. Timoner realized that this footage described the world we are all now jacked into.
“It hit me like a bolt of lightning, like no other project I have ever worked on,” she said, sitting next to Mr. Harris outside on an unseasonably warm day. “It was a wired city in a very early stage, and after watching my friends updating their MySpace and Facebook pages, I realized that we had all been there at the start.”
Well, Dig was a really good movie...
This photo by Ryan McGinley is sort of a Wyeth parody.
Pfizer is going to buy a drug company called Wyeth.
Wyeth had a big Hollywood collector dude.
They had a show at the MET.
Wyeth does the Met. It was called.
They installed a bronze of Christina crawling towards a scale model of Abraham Lincoln's three walled cabin, on the roof.
That was when the roof was a tiki lounge.
Pfizer has an art collection - they steer clear of controversy, so I doubt they collect nudes. But now would be a good time to sell Wyeths to fund new aquisitions wouldn;t it? All that buzz?
Drugs n' Art - I;d sell to Pfizer. Maybe make some low intensity desaturated orange squares or some pebbles in a row or something neat. Scumbling - lots of scumbling.
FOr Microsofts collection you should frame it - preferably behind plexi, floated in a box. I suggest photographs on alternate grounds like fiber paper or light sensitized tin/aluminum.
The lighting, the braids... I'm thinking shampoo commercial.
In 1976, reviewing the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Wyeth exhibition, John Russell wrote in the New York Times: "It is really rather odd that a nation which rightly prides itself on its buoyancy of spirit should identify so firmly with an artist whose speciality is the study of wounded or inarticulate figures in an unforgiving landscape."
Yeah like I say - shampoo comercial.
So is this going to be the one post for the next 6 months?
Well it's either Rachete likin; the blog with Peter Max or Brooklyn haters for Erik Benson. I'll take youth culture/hipster inflected Benson over regio-provincialoso Wyeth and "so eighties it sucks IV" Peter Max at this point.
Erik tries so hard to be Euro-cool but he's a romantik, so the skulls creep in. I think it's all the whisky. Decadence with flop sweat all over it, poor bastard.
Is Erik showing in NYC right now? I saw that his latest work had planes and birds in for the skulls.
I came out of work the other day, and its real cold here, I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's cold for here. I saw these two birds and they were kawing REALLY loud. I thought they were just the usual crows but they kept up this INCREDIBLE squawking. I looked up and they were 2 fucking parrots.
I always want to be surprised like that
I was just following the breadcrumbs from Roebling hall .... to Black and White, which is a sort of middling gallery in Brooklyn with an ATM branch in Chelsea (not as snooty as Roebling Hall, but Roebling hall wasn't a better gallery I don't think, not from what I've seen - catering to pretention or a slicker Pierogi (meaning the punchlines are not written on the work) - so it's definintely a lateral move, straight across. I mean career wise).
Except 31 grand has a hand in there and that means it could be a good move, though the social dynamics could be pretty retarded. Not that you have to go to the shows of the other artists in the stable, but isn't it considered good form?
I mean I don't know, i'm just saying.
Hoping every slips not a slide.
kaw
Non-Actual Painting Moods 2.9:
1.2 Pensive (life is cruel/good/mixed/bored/i can hear a violin over there/wait, it's a cello)
1.5 Pet Cemetary (Helga turns around with a scalpel in her eye/knife in her hand/crow in her mouth/patch on her eye/copy of Interview/maybe it's watchtower)
5.3 Confrontation averted (so much will remain unsaid/unsaid/unsaid/i said)
6.6 Her bag is on her shoulder. (let me go/i have no truck/it's miles away/where is a young strong saviour)
3.2 Wanting. (what/what/what?)
1.1 Resistance (sick old man/what else is there to do/i'm another famous muse who never speaks)
1.0 Complete staging (wasn't supposed to be read/left it open/whatever)
The more I look at it - creepy. In any case it has many suggestives, and the color of a duck. Quack. What size is it? Don't read a duck, dead duck, old quacker. Can't fly, never did, hated change, obsessed with one way. Buried rhetoric. Muted repression approaching grace. Falling from. Cling close to the classic in the classical shift, futility. Utility.
It's not painted in a language i'm familiar with, maybe I was/just don't want to. Sick shit happens in the isolatation of the rural and nobody knows. Sick shit happens in the abundance of the metropol, and everybody/nobody cares. Hooray for population surveillance. Let us survey Helga's head. Oh, my dear.
mmmmm.
anti-Wyeth sentiment.
How refreshing.
And so modern!
Do tell me where you got it
Does it rinse well?
Does it come with an illustration degree?
wyeth was scathing of most other artists explorations'. especially in abstraction. it's not my opinion to cast him there, he carved himself out a place, fusty wyeth. it's not entirely a bad place, i can almost smell the leather. to bring analysis is a solvent. as it melts under, broad and great in modern conception, the of the land type, monumental at a distance - but the closer you look at the sample, the lumpier it gets. like that dark bit on the left behind her. something creeps in. do you want to know? a great deal of weight has been heaped upon his depiction so as to encompass a wide style of land, life and isolation. it's real poetry no doubt. sick as well. but herculean statements dissuade in myth, as afterthought, can you expect paintings to hold the weight a continent. maybe. i don't say yes or no. i just throw up. they're a part of it surely. i might just be squirting kerosene if you know what i mean. it's been cold.
_______________________________________
Corel Painter 63.2.2, Mac Core 9.9thz
77" Wacom, other Monumental shit.
I'm an old cover hand my self.
I do Wyeth, Grant Wood, Emanuel Leutze, Frederic Remington, THomas Cole, you name it.
Anniversaries, Awards Nights, Bachelor Parties, Bachelorette Parties, Banquets, Bar Mitzvahs, Bat Mitzvahs, Birthday Parties, Casinos, Celebrations, Children's Birthday Parties, Christenings, Christmas Parties, Church Services, Clubs, Coffee Shops, Community Events, Conventions, Corporate Functions, Country Clubs, Cruise Ships, Dinner Dances, Festivals, Fraternity Functions, Fund Raisers, Funerals, Graduation Parties, Grand Openings, Hotels, Jingles, Movie Soundtracks, Picnic, Private Parties, Proms, Resorts, Restaurants, Reunions, Showers, Ski Lodges, Sorority Function, Studio Session, Temples, TV Soundtracks, Weddings
All very modern and reasonably priced.
var message:String = "If you can read this you are standing too close, back the fuck up."
myFunction.addListener(MouseEvent.MOUSE_DOWN, dragRemote);
function myFunction(event:MouseEvent, warning){
function warning():void{
trace(message);
}
as3 fraternity function i assume.
its a new number with non functioning code.
I;m working on the syntax thing.
This works:
wyeth_mc.addEventListener(MouseEvent.MOUSE_DOWN, dragBrush);
function dragBrush(event:MouseEvent):void
{
wyeth_mc.startDrag();
wyeth_mc.removeEventListener(MouseEvent.MOUSE_DOWN, dragBrush);
wyeth_mc.addEventListener(MouseEvent.MOUSE_UP, dropBrush);
}
function dropBrush(event:MouseEvent):void
{
wyeth_mc.stopDrag();
wyeth_mc.removeEventListener(MouseEvent.MOUSE_UP, dragBrush);
wyeth_mc.addEventListener(MouseEvent.MOUSE_DOWN, dragBrush);
}
Enough with the Action Script doodling, brushdragger.
Now John Updike has died as well.
DEATH!
Is there a message there?
Can we have a post of Updike as well, Painter?
Death is a cliche. But irrelevence or obselescence is quite fascinating. Re: Wyeth or anybody else. For example, check it out over on Fox news these days. In a blink of an eye, they mean nothing. No power for you, as the Soup Nazi would say. In one day, out the next as Heidi Klum would say. Good riddance to the damned I say. Dustbin o history. Too bad Mr Murdoch did make systemic change. Wonder where it will lead?
Domination of women and the landscape obsolete, and yet poor madge. she lost another good one.
skin cancer
Unfortunately zipthing and webwung have been laying in wait. Best to completely bury this thing. It's just a joke now anyway. Unfortunately. Thanks for trying....
I've been lying in wait for about 30 years. Frankly my patience is wearing thin.
Death gives each artist a brief flair of relevance before their light is extinuished in pools of eternal night.
This I believe.
I can't do anything else. i am a child. I am an infant child.
Thast's just how they wrote the play. There are only five or six roles, really.
addEventListener.
create a new object for the world.
I see a figure facing away. Worked once, let's do it again. WOrked twice lets do it again, with shame this time.
Wont be fooled again.
Wow it keeps getting funnier. That Wyaeth, what a sense of humor.
Read the interview if you don't belive me. TIme magazine painted Wyeth as droll, urbane.
Who knew they could be sophisticated, those rural bonsai, shaped by winds unknown to Madison Avenue.
Drinking pure water from deep wells tapping ancient vanishing reservoirs of distilled Jurasic purity.
Dinosaur water.
The terrible lizards walk the earth again.
Note to self:
paint dinosaur facing away about to eat woman, also facing away, about to eat farm house, also facing away, about to eat rusty Ford truck.
Ford truck has baby on board sign.
Oh how funny.
Every time. It just keeps getting more perverse, until pop eats itself. Because it will.
Then we can start again, with a woman facing away, and
it
will
be
glorious.
Even the cancer, crawling in your veins like a sentient spiderweb.
Just tubes, this universe.
An art blog dedicated to trolls is kinda neat.
what does that have to do with andy wyeth?
Or more directly, what does it say about our culture that we celebrate artists when they die, often the only time they are truly recognized.
Is it for closure? Or because we don;t really care about wyeth and hos golden girls?
Is christina's world wyeth's only good painting?
If you make a good paintign are you obligated to repeat it?
What does t say about us when we require artists to repeat their "masterpiece" over and over?
I could go on.
For example, they are turning the land black in rural america, the deep reservoirs are being used up - b ut before that happens they will become salty, with minerals at the bottom of the - well you know, I drink your milkshake!
I drink it up!
You're the troll Vernon, troll.
There's actually a blog called THE ONLY GOOD ARTIST IS A DEAD ONE or at least it used to be called that, now I think it's been shortened to goodasdead.org but it's still a witty take on art criticism.
http://bushwickpainters.blogspot.com/
I made a new blog ,in the spirit of this one, which i love. I made it when i thought this one was defunct. i hope painter doesn't mind! the difference is it will be for emerging artists, specifically the ones toiling away in Bushwick in those huge cold industrial spaces. there will also be the occasional old piece to talk about. and zipthwung, you and your musings are welcome there.
He stressed that the swimmer had taken 1,500 drug tests and never failed one.
Detractors,
Ok, I will not write here.
But I will continue to read the posts, and not respond.
I am interested to see what you have to contribute that I am/can not.
If it becomes clear that you have nothing, which in relation to this post is what you have offered, I will be back online sometime later.
This should be interesting.
W.
Aw c'mon Webthing, don't take it to heart.
What are a few detractors?
They're just jealous of you and Zipthwung because you're willing to lay it on the line.
If you're a troll, I'm a troll.
you wish
Back where and when the Wyeths were painting, nothing ever changed. Not just the something that never changes, but everything else too. Years and endless years of it. That's why the repetition and "overdescription" that cookie mentioned.
Nowadays change never stops, it's our constant challenge, artists running around trying to capture the multiplicity like crazy, multiple medias, styles et al.
Both show the limitations that artists operate under, as they should. Humans cant be limitless
Even discovering limits has its limits.
Frankly I find Wyeth tedious, all that in-your-face technique and bland austerity. It’s not magical realism just prosaic romanticism. What’s the point trying to relate it to modernism or Modernism? It’s traditional to a fault. I remember when the Helga series were first promoted I think there was a book and people were sort of curious about AW’s private life – like there might be something more than the diligent recorder of textures and weathering. But not really – people were really just more crusty specimens to be carefully described, with the odd little flourish to let you know who’s boss. Oooh that technique! Fearlessly describing just another 'physique' - what was her name again?...
That’s why he gets dismissed as an illustrator.
Over on the Art News blog there’s a post about him where a case for his spirituality is made, he’s seen on a par with Rothko or Newman (Barnett rather than Paul or Alfred E.) and I thought about this for a while and decided if so then it’s a pretty mean spiritedness, a repressed and reactionary sort of soul. It’s regionalism for the provincial, hammy anecdote like Christina’s World for those that miss the Saturday Evening Post and think of Oklahoma as opera.
The issue of repetition or theme and variation in an artist’s work is fascinating and complex, but wasted on Wyeth
the past is a foreign country, they do things differently there
Amish Q-Bert
We don't take our trips on LSD
Running on empty.
Chevy levy dry.
By bye
Pie.
I was born in the
Bayou
There's a darkness on the edge and there I looked down
Wrapped up like a deuce
This land is your my land
Shot a man in reno
Stand by your man
America
Proud to be an american
Ein Svei Drei.
I was in Philly waiting for the bus and there's a self described alcoholic student on the right and a guy in a neck brace on the left.
The alcoholic goes, hey, what happened?
The guy in the neck brace goes, I hurt myself fucking. Pinched a nerve.
I love that shit.
Not like this pissy little namby pamby bullshit for uptight folks (my parents). Oh Helga, what ever are you doing out in the field?
Collecting clover?
Not to say that I want to hear too much information (my parents wisely avoided bars, even Irish ones), but too much information is what goes on, is what all the romantics want when they say they want real, the modern, the human, the primal.
Is it ugly? Well yeah, it is. But it's also the truth. Which is what a lot of art students need to get in touch with, as far as their output (or give up any pretention of being avant guard).
I mean the market sucks, so there's plenty of time for the truth, as opposed to estheticized or ironic reality.
Now wyeth might have a certain flinty realism - but we all know it's romantic cocksucking bullshit as far as most people are concerned. Even for artists, who often never have a bad thing to say about art, so worried they are that the meaningless nihilism real criticism will pop the enchanted kingdom of art.
Wyeth lived in a fantasy world as deep as his old man's.
The same world that thought "Nine to Five" was a feminist's dream.
Now, I'm a hypocrite, but right here I'm providing the rope, and lots of it.
Wyeth is like Boxing Helena for the soft core set.
i have always thought Wyeth felt so good. naked body, light streaming, lots of detailed hairs, paint all over her bush...there's beauty in his minutae.
all creatures bright and beautiful
Amen.
is there protocol here? may I join?
webthing, you're the best, I joined to get closer to you.
Egg dries fast and lasts a long time. I have such a hard time thinking in histories... hope the ambivalence of history is real.
She looks like she's staring at a blackboard with lots of things left to do. Or else, here's the will, left in a really bleak prairie.
I once modelled for someone for a year who insisted in sitting on his stool legs spread with balls out to one side, granted it was a hot studio. Amateur. There's a complicitness to the model sitting there for 15 years and being handled vicariously. He just sits there and paints why she complies.
hey andy in this one can you look at my back, so I can make googly eyes? stop looking at my eyelashes
let's have the show already because we are not in love anymore by now and I'm tired of not checking my mail on time ..stop looking at my eyelashes.
It all about how much story we can make in there...with a good lede, you can be left hanging for awhile and if the come-around wrap is clever you forgive (the brain lapse) what they couldn't tell you. so much space to project personal perfection. Is that what models are for, is this what good painting does? yew yew yew...
I think I pinched a nerve
life in the fast lane?
Thanks for the recipe, Zip…next time.
Good god knows he painted one face a long time. Slow learner or inscrutable vixen? All paint dries out eventually, even the underlayers.
All the rapture there ever was is here in your body
Nowhere else
Painters have painted their ways in to bodies since the time we know about
Understanding stances by the tilt of a bone set, looking at the nose and the hairlip, how they join up, twist and reveal the years, I mean the mean set
of thought-thoughts of this particular eye-set.
What is this surging flies-eyes personality, looking-glass thing we have goin on in computers, in our pictures?
How many can you be in so many ways?
Real paper letters make this look evil now, the touch of a madman--
This letter was touched by a madman! A computer has no prints
but what the mind makes.
(Dig the gravy!)
Real letters would get you to jail.
(Who knew Pessoa was the futurist?)
But these electronic glibs
Splice and dice and grow ourselves big brains--
The beauty of brains! The brains make us do it.
Like stocks splitting, printing our own credit.
Its fine as fine as you feel
We are making of ourselves pets to carry in our pockets
Pocket Pals.
(Helga was Raggedy Andy's Pocket Pal)
Are you ready for this? It's all the rage; it's about Time…
Let's go
Separate!
Ever live a life that's real
Full of zest, but no appeal
Ever want to cry so much
You want to die
Ever feel that you've been had
Had so much that you turn mad
Ever been depressed that
(to) those you turn to, you bring distress
Ever sit in tormenting silence
That turns so loud, you start to scream
Ever take control of a dream
And play all the parts and set all the scenes
Ever do nothing and gain nothing from it
Ever feel stupid and then know that you really are
Ever think you're smart and then find out you aren't
Ever play the fool and then find out that you're worse
Ever look at a flower and hate it
Ever see a couple kissing and get sickened by it
Ever wish the human race didn't exist
And then realize you're one too
Well, have you ... ever .. I have
So What
I'm tender for you. I am
I really am.
You know she really looks my mother from the back. When she was young she would wear her hair like this,
same exact color and age I remember her kind of sane. It bothers me this picture for this reason. I must admit. not that this matters a hill of beans--that all images have this vulnerability to each viewer at a time.
There is something precious about these Helgas that is undeniable. The palpability of time he makes here keeps you waiting with her. Isn't there a "wait and see" sentiment that makes this good?
The old gray mare, she kicked on the whiffletree,
Kicked on the whiffletree, kicked on the whiffletree
The old gray mare, she kicked on the whiffletree
Many long years ago.
obey
Consider the long drippy earrings,
Costume.
Before you ask,
Come with nothing if you can
To her.
Don't remember she is a girl, she is a painter,
She is a color,
A lesson,
A meal, a play,
A dress, a mate, a river, a star,
A game, a giggler, a twinkle,
A mother, a player, a parker, a bather,
A coffee, a toast, a morning waker- dinner maker
Don't remember you ever kissed her,
Don’t remember she was yours or you
Touched her anywhere,
If you can.
Sweat the night's mingle out.
Read your paper.
Write your this and that.
Drink your huge coffee vat.
Make your muscle big.
Watch some guns, eat some meat.
Watch her dressing jiggle.
Grab what you see.
Try to forget
You are the heartbreak dangling from her ears.
Right off the bat, New York dealers at the fair sold an Andrew Wyeth (Adelson Galleries, "in excess of $5 million")
DO we get a commission or are they claiming it was just in the air because the dude died?
Delusion:deusional:: illusion:illusionistic.
Kind of weird.
illusional?
shambolic. that is the word of the minute. i have read it 10 times in 5 days. shambolic.
i dont think that has anything to do with andrew wyeth. at least i'm not pretending that it does eh?
A small gin and tonic and a couple of ritz crackers
and i'd rather see a painting of Hulga who lost her leg to the bible salesman-
because i feel nothing when I see this.I feel repression and nerd-ness,aspergers-the person you did not want to know in highschool-a certain sickliness.
sickliness sells. (If it's authentic and not wholly dysfunctional - need redemption in the mix - that's a great formula).
Shambolic reminds me of doctor strange wandering other dimensions. Shambahlah.
Rochambo.
Scissors meets rock.
I ate half a pack of ritz crackers for lunch today.
Puttin it on.
Totally Wyeth .
WWWD?
I mean half a box.
I won a gigantic bottle of whiskey playing paper rock scissors with a whole bar in Japan; I felt psychic, then drunk.
I bet she puts out like a homecoming queen.
Wyeth would count hairs.
I like how in japan if you can drink a lot you are just "strong" and not an alcoholic. Or maybe they were just being polite. Inscrutable.
kaw kaw
you mean you think they let me win?
-- that blows some holes in the picture of my fate.
But I like that scene in Tampopo where the suits order the same thing as the boss and this one selfish guy orders what he wants for lunch.
selling t-shirts:
"I'm kin na myself"
$29.99 on that pay the pal
please support the "common one"
Can you meet me in the country
In the summertime in England
Will you meet me?
Will you meet me in the country
In the summertime in England
Will you meet me?
We'll go riding up to Kendal in the country
In the summertime in England.
Did you ever hear about
Did you ever hear about
Did you ever hear about
Wordsworth and Coleridge, baby?
Did you ever hear about Wordsworth and Coleridge?
They were smokin' up in Kendal
By the lakeside
Can you meet me in the country in the long grass
In the summertime in England
Will you meet me
With your red robe dangling all around your body
With your red robe dangling all around your body
Will you meet me
Did you ever hear about . . .
William Blake
T. S. Eliot
In the summer
In the countryside
They were smokin'
Summertime in England
Won't you meet me down Bristol
Meet me along by Bristol
We'll go ridin' down
Down by Avalon
Down by Avalon
Down by Avalon
In the countryside in England
With your red robe danglin' all around your body free
Let your red robe go.
Goin' ridin' down by Avalon
Would you meet me in the country
In the summertime in England
Would you meet me?
In the Church of St. John . . .
Down by Avalon . . . .
Holy Magnet
Give you attraction
Yea, I was attracted to you.
Your coat was old, ragged and worn
And you wore it down through the ages
Ah, the sufferin' did show in your eyes as we spoke
And the gospel music
The voice of Mahalia Jackson came through the ether
Oh my common one with the coat so old
And the light in the head
Said, daddy, don't stroke me
Call me the common one.
I said, oh, common one, my illuminated one.
Oh my high in the art of sufferin' one.
Take a walk with me
Take a walk with me down by Avalon
Oh, my common one with the coat so old
And the light in her head.
And the sufferin' so fine
Take a walk with me down by Avalon
And I will show you
It ain't why, why, why
It just is.
Would you meet me in the country
Can you meet me in the long grass
In the country in the summertime
Can you meet me in the long grass
Wait a minute
With your red robe . . .
Danglin' all around your body.
Yeats and Lady Gregory corresponded . . .
And James Joyce wrote streams of consciousness books . . .
T.S. Eliot chose England . . .
T.S. Eliot joined the ministry . . .
Did you ever hear about . . .
Wordsworth and Coleridge?
Smokin' up in Kendal
They were smokin' by the lakeside . . .
Let your red robe go . . .
Let your red robe dangle in the countryside in England
We'll go ridin' down by Avalon
In the country
In the summertime
With you by my side
Let your red robe go . . .
You'll be happy dancin' . . .
Let your red robe go . . .
Won't you meet me down by Avalon
In the summertime in England
In the Church of St. John . . .
Did you ever hear about Jesus walkin'
Jesus walkin' down by Avalon?
Can you feel the light in England?
Can you feel the light in England?
Oh, my common one with the light in her head
And the coat so old
And the sufferin' so fine
Take a walk with me
Oh, my common one,
Oh, my illuminated one
Down by Avalon . . .
Oh, my common one . . .
Oh, my storytime one
Oh, my treasury in the sunset
Take a walk with me
And I will show you
It ain't why . . .
It just is . . .
Oh, my common one
With the light in the head
And the coat so old
Oh, my high in the art of sufferin' one . . .
Oh, my common one
Take a walk with me
Down by Avalon
And I will show you
It ain't why . . .
It just is.
Oh, my common one with the light in her head
And the coat so fine
And the sufferin' so high . . .
All right now.
Oh, my common one . . .
It ain't why . . .
It just is . . .
That's all
That's all there is about it.
It just is.
Can you feel the light?
I want to go to church and say.
In your soul . . .
Ain't it high?
Oh, my common one
Oh, my storytime one
Oh, my high in the art of sufferin' one
Put your head on my shoulder . . .
And you listen to the silence.
Can you feel the silence?
Do you think Van and Andy would've hung?
dungaree high
it's such a trip just to survive.
getouttamy...simplekindaman is my kids favorite song. but i like the uncommon ones too.
To an American, meanwhile, those early postwar abstract painters (Ernst Wilhelm Nay, for one) look inventive, not escapist. On the other hand Mr. Kiefer, Mr. Baselitz and Beuys, in the name of confronting history, seem to have turned from anarchic acts of constructive mayhem, which usefully rattled complacent Germans at first, increasingly toward works about myth, mysticism and nature: grand themes that sometimes uncomfortably recalled Nazi motifs and diverted their production toward new forms of pompous escapism.
stop working for nazis i tell myself
these days? not so hard to tell i wouldnt think. they all made their money in 06 and now we are paying out, one way or another. very purposeful, kiddies.
puroposeful like oliver twist--im a rapper w/o a rhyme
Well I mean what is your audience, and then what is the refracion coefficient. But HC writes:
"They will have to consider themselves lucky to get career breaks now taken for granted:"
I'm a little tone deaf. help me out, why would artists take "the out-of-the-gate solo show" for granted?
Oliver? Oliver? Anyone? Oliver?
It's like he's preaching to the inverted. Poor suckers.
And then he goes on to suggest artist might become candy stripers or something.
Weird. It;s like he;s channeling CF but with the rose tinted glasses of a true believer.
where to start? the idea of a patron doesnt hold as much appeal as a muse these days for a certain set of idiots. oh there are always ways to survive and gourmet salt is nice but doesnt stick around very long, solves to the river with the shit.
fame is difficult, power moreso. This stuff doesnt usually inspire better work, but maybe more production, more talent searchers for the assistants to the assistants.
It's grotesque in an attractive to the candy-striper way.
high living is nice and chatty but whole living is something other certainly also kinda difficult. Neil Young said he found himself in the river with the heart of gold so tried to throw himself in a ditch.
but then you know it always comes down to the costs of higher education, the more you see how expensive it is, the more expensive it is. So the non-idiots always win.
i dont think holland cotter gets out much...
I'm gonna say this once and for all for all, idiots and non-idiots alike. You can't smell a painting! Plus we didn't even see the thing properly did we? Loose digital translations...yew sweat at nyet. And then did Wyeth show us the painting he wanted to show us, or just the painting that happened to lying around in painter's hardrive?
It's hard to judge a man's body of work by one painting, it's true, it's true for all involved.
If you can't smell the lizard rapport is fragile.
especially when the punctuation of the rectangle (nothing personal, history of painting) is so forlornly inadequate to convey real tone.
Some paintings you don't need to smell to get to the meaning. That post on LondonPainting right now I wouldnt even want to smell on Roots Row.
But some you just wish you could cause you know it'd be better/good.
And here I really am talking about structural limitations, not the creative endeavors.
I mean... Wyeth should have at least put a couple of butterfles in that meadow to give us hope, because that meadow, as La previously stated, that meadow is bleak. For God sakes a body can't even tell whether it's day or night.
Any Dave now? Does that prickle your prankle, NY?
Dave's not here.
Novel by Philip K. Dick Gets an Ending
Publish or perish.
yeah but it seems like thats the way they do it these days. i mean all my single friends do internet dating and then they wonder why they get all these shitty dates. i recommend hittin on people that smell good, follow them on the street. thats how i met my husband -on the street. so glad i was drunk and he talked to me...
I smell like ass right now. that or I'm rotting on the inside. No, its probably the BO.
Plus the kids in the neighborhood are cooler than I am.
And honestly, I'm an asshole .
But I've seen enough of wyeth. And saltz is right, nobody talks about wyeth outside of art history class.
Except now that he's dead, but that wont last.
Okay everyone, back to work. There’s nothing more to see here. We’ve all been stimulated enough for one package. I knew you would come through for me, you don’t know how much it means. ‘The price of everything and the value of nothing?’ Pshaw! What greater duty can there be than protecting one’s own kind, first? Looking after the trade, the calling, the blood, brother and the next in line, can you dig it? We have earned this by a silver ballot followed by a stake straight to heart of a mass gravy train to heaven and all stations east. Oh yes. So prepare to move on, if you start to cry, I’ll walk on by. Now that we have helped you shed your homes and jobs, that should be easy. Welcome to the desert with no name, the natives without reservations.
Pretend we’re strangers when we meet.
Our isolationist heritage is preserved and we can safely turn our backs on the bright lights, big city, embrace the shadows of vacant real estate and regionalist angst. You know you want to. What’s that? You’re sick with love and fain would lie down? Is there a Dulles doctrine the house? Is this a ghost I see before me? A union made in hell if not the south. Don’t let the son go down on the help, shine a light on me, dream of a peasantry convinced of pleasantry. Take that to the bank and beow-chikka-wah-wah yessir I can boogie.
Speaking as one dedicated to the fine arts, including self-preservation, I’d just like to say this business as usual doesn’t mean we can’t have fun in numbers, right? And we’re talking big numbers. Sure one man’s bailout is another’s protectionism, but what do you know about competition, beauty and a bailout made in heaven anyway? Grace under pressure? Oh you don’t know the half of it – blonds in bondage, contracted to the land – hey I’ve lived those fantasies, on the inside and trading up, a holiday homeland where neighbors are the biggest enemy. I call it self reservation. You know what I love about America? It’s so private.
HUH?
Broke or roccocco?
rags to rags I got the gassoline.
Bring a jar.
the faberge egg referred to dingbat's prose style. depression era slang: “No matter how you slice it, it’s still baloney.”
I was just showing what my library will look like when it is completed.
Man I am so psyched.
I'm gonna get my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames.
now thats prose.
hey i read she gave that monkey prozac or xanax or something. never trust a beast
I came very close to interviewing Mr. Wyeth in early 2008. I think I would have learned a lot had it happened. I interviewed his pupil, Bo Bartlett. He does some amazing work.
Wish i'd thought of it
wish I had one. I'd stuff a rag down my throat and light the bonfire.
bottom's up
and the award for the most striking emotion goes to: yearning.
Webthing! You came back!
i hope someone deserving artist gets the melancholia goblet, it would suck if it went to someone who isn't clinically depressed or has a minor case of the didn't ask to be borns.
U2 sounded better when they were yearning and not acting urgent.
Earnestly corny instead of urgently cheeseball.
I just don't buy urgent - because if it was urgent you'd be yelling like a banshee and burning shit down, or at least sharpening your shank and keeping quiet.
that just reminds me of foreigner: urgent, urgent, emergency.
congrats on passing 10,000. you made painter what she is today...
I was looking at Foreigner - I thought there was some other song urgent emergency - but all I could find was saxiphones
you'd think 10,000 would mean they would beam me up.
“A blog offers up something vulnerable,” he mused, “and someone comes along and puts a cigarette out in its eye.”
ok mr lethem that's torn it.
What la said is interesting and funny.
Somebody dial 911 i got fire in my eye.
“This is an emergency, If I would have known they didn’t have McNuggets, I wouldn’t have given my money, and now she wants to give me a McDouble, but I don’t want one,” Latreasa L. Goodman told police. “This is an emergency.”
Yeah. Im at the bridge art fair and its like, where the fuck is my martini?
(!!
Was it as bad as it sounds? Did you get into the "artists only" lounge?
Some of the Visual Culture components featured at Bridge Art Fair will include:
--Art and comics bookstore/reading room
--Record store/audio listening lounge with sound art installations
--Video art and cinema theater
--Video/new media arcade
--Performance art esplanade
--Live music/events stage
--Artists-only lounge
--Use of external landscape for special projects
Bridge is a mix of total crap to good work - but it floats if you pretend its a craft fair that artists snuck into.
I want to see the topless woman at Volta (NYT) Are the smaller fairs "strictly entry level?" Sounds like a quote from a competitor.
In what sense? I wonder what makes art have levels like that. Is it like top shelf?
I mean smaller fairs can say stuff larger fairs don't dare touch (Kitch AS kitch) elitism can filter out anything authentic and replaces art and artists with a simulacrum of art and artist.
get a lawyer, is all I can say.
I mean it's a floating world isn't it?
No alcohol allowed on premises (didn't come up I guess). Like a prom. What dixie cups are for.
Upscale tupperware parties. Do you have a pen? But people are nice enough,if you aren't boring, which I am in person. I'm an idiot. Really. A real shut in.
Just a tourist. Along for the ride.
Yeah Cap
Left it to the extraneous
To see if they might contribute
Little
Came back to the pardy
To the parody
No parity
As it was
Or is
Could or might be
Has been
Or was
The thing is we have no poets
In an age of lack
We lack not poets
But the readers
People talking shit
Is not poetry
Poetry isn't poetry
Screw the term
But lyrical dialogue
Opening things up
Seeing through the fog
Where the fuck did that go?
Inflation, inflation.
Deflation, deflation.
Fill it till it pops.
don't give me artspeak
don't give me poems
don't give me vernacular
don't give me streetlip
don't give me qwerty
don't give me machismo
don't give me vulnerability
well then what do you want
not sure
art is where you bury it
word is when you try to dig it back up
dogs and bones
bones and soil
flowers
I saw a gallerist turn into a performance artist.
he made a loud stink that the director was "pathetic" among other things, because there were no shuttles (oops) as advertised even though collectors take cars and besides there were plenty of bigwigs coming through in a down market. I heard plenty of people lost money in Miami. I heard people are in it for the art, now, because that's what they got into it in the first place for, was the art. I heard (from my mom) that the ecomonmy is going to be in the shitter for 10 years. I heard I'm going to get paid. I heard facebook is great. I heard Facebook is stupid. I heard kanye is into his new "datamoshing" video. I saw some other people doing this a while ago, funny how people thik they cant do something if it's been done. I can fake this look using displacement maps and such, such as.
I heard you heard, we hear, you.
kanye's working about 10 ripoffs there...but thats how you crossover
if you want to crossover. crossover like an argyle sweater. arcades and barricades. im sure kanye knows more about it than i do.
it's funny coz my old dvd player could do it all by itself on occasion. who invented the error read? nobody. freak occurrence.
but i think takeshi re-did it best, still to this day. everyone else can crossover and possibly emulate, but some just do it better. that's how it works. it's like anyone could do a drip painting, or can they?
i think so
Sometimes it’s hard to see the work for the labels, sometimes it’s hard to see the labels for the work. Neither is helpful. When I get overwhelmed by labels I know I need to look away and take a rest. When I get lost in a work, I know I’m not working hard enough.
But who gets to strike the happy balance every time?
No, we don’t want ‘poetry’ or ‘art’ if we can’t get past the inverted commas, but we flounder with the work that doesn’t relate, reference without enough reference.
It’s like when artists go on about ‘testing boundaries’, and then when their work is rejected complain about ‘intolerance’. Well you can’t have a test, if you’re not prepared to accept failure as a possibility. But they really want it both ways – to boldly go beyond public standards, and for the public to accept them.
Everyone loves the idea of being a pioneer, except for the part about hardship.
It’s the same with labels. We want them to apply to a comfortable bulk of works, to be comprehensive, but we love the idea of the work that doesn’t fit. Which is more important - making the label or breaking it?
HAAHAAA. Let's all miss the point together.
Do you tell the world who you are, or does the world tell you who you are? Cap, take a walk down a very dark alley some evening real soon and find out. Or keep hiding behind the paradox.
If we need reference in a work, and the test fails and there is no reference, what then? fail and wait, and burn. If the test succeeds and there is reference, and also failure, and seventeen other parables? succeed and fade, and float. Jazz. If the test succeeds and there is reference, and little else? Purchased now, lost later.
Some commerical and independent gallerists are moving towards educucational models. That used to happen more in museums. Is it because:
A. They need the income
B. A bona-fide lesson secures a real
buyer more than dinner & 2 bottles of
moet used to.
C. Money can't talk at the moment.
D. We're in for a good thinking.
E. They genuinely want to advance public
understanding.
Great times ahead, i'm serious. Temper that hedon and absorb the pain, we're back on the building blocks now that the balloons are burst, Damien Burst. Fail and sail.
I'm not so good tutoring art. (i get the narrative mixed up but I can talk shop all day)
And Honestly, how can you compete with the reams of shit already written?
Make a cosmology so dense and ironic it's indecipherable as anything but poetry. Oh but you, you get it because you are smart.
On the other hand, if you are trying to engage with the institutional critique model, there seems to be either no learning curve (its a punk party in the man's house everybody!) or a very ironicly steep learning curve (I mean the institution of institutional critique defending it's teritory from upstart critiquers)
But Jazz standards can go out there and then come back. I like that model despite the obvious problems comparing visual art to jazz as most people know it.
One thing though - some people like lyrical stuff, and some people like smearing shit on the walls. I have a hard time differentiating the two beasts in the wild - often a two backed one with fangs.
I guess what I'm saying is I'm no dealer, just a nerd with a world most collectors would find disapointing without serious stage craft.
I talked about my shoes to the last strangers I met - one of whom was kind enough to comment that they had had the same pair. I mean they were real pros.
"I don't know anything about art"
They said.
That's fucking poker.
you will never go wrong discussing shoes. my brother found himself sitting next to diana ross one night (backstage at the grammys, my bro was working) and he said to her, nice shoes, and they talked for an hour.
...your world is all you have, insight and confidence rather than stagecraft is perhaps what WT is saying.
It was a terrible party anyways. I'll mannered hostess and insecure people. I think I can train them if I make work they can sell. I'll try to experiment and let you know.
A friend of mine says its good to meet peopel when you are nobody because then you know who they are.
im watching this
i heard about chandelier bidding and:
“Allison has gotten a lot of attention over the past three years.” Among those that went were Big Wooly Monkey Head (2008), which sold for $14,500 to a New York collector;
Martha S says: “The thing about editorial photo shoots,” mused a pal later, “however high the production values, is they put enough references together and hope it insinuates enough to ‘mean’ something . . .” Something like that."
IS that what you mean by crossing over - from land to water? I find if I worry too much about meaning embedded in an object like a bullet is idolatry, but I cant fault the lady martha skewers:
“It’s a totally new piece, very interactive.”
Like she just got the memo. Poor lady. Wrong memo.
Now, I hate to do this to you.
gneumatic: (taking notes during a talk by Murata) No significant use of code in Takeshi Murata’s work (other than automating simple tasks) – not sure if that makes me happy or sad…
here
but I still think everyone owns glitches.
jeez i have no concern about how its done. or who actually did it first. or that it means "glitches" im just interested in what it signifies. cultural time and place. just sayin black men know a lot about crossing over, as do we all. where you stand, who you are. dying on the mountain. all that. arcades and barricades.
Well yea. I can dig that.
But Roberta said photoshop was programming and cathy grayson said editing out pframes in compressed video is "hacking the way a DVD player reads DVDS."
I just dont think they care either.
But yes, the most interesting thing is the foment of the moment. I can dig no message is a message for example.
Everyone's a magpie.
I don't need no hook for this shit.
And as far as crossing over, you have to have a here before you can go there.
I mean bridge to Terebithia or what?
all kathies are cool.
It's still a land grab
Takeshi may be a pioneer, but the indians were here before Jesus.
he more you ignore me
The closer I get
Youre wasting your time
The more you ignore me
The closer I get
Youre wasting your time
I will be
In the bar
With my head
On the bar
I am now
A central part
Of your minds landscape
Whether you care
Or do not
Yeah, Ive made up your mind
The more you ignore me
The closer I get
Youre wasting your time
The more you ignore me
The closer I get
Youre wasting your time
Beware !
I bear more grudges
Than lonely high court judges
When you sleep
I will creep
Into your thoughts
Like a bad debt
That you cant pay
Take the easy way
And give in
Yeah, and let me in
Oh, let me in
Oh let me ...
Oh, let me in
Its war
Its war
Its war
Its war
Its war
War
War
War
War
Oh, let me in
Ah, the closer I get
Ah, youre asking for it
Ah, the closer I get
Ooh, the closer I ...
a war needs a common enemy
if the enemy is imagined
the war is transparent
every soldier awakens, accountable
it's early on a saturday
no-one turns on the radio
they're all a huggin on the battlefield
when the bomb drops
that's my kinda war-the creampuff war
dollar menu dream and death
How did you know I had McD's tonite?
you know I like it
waste of a good cake mcwhitey
honto!
never apologize never explain
nice timing. funny how?
“Blog like no 1 is reading.” -Carles, 2009
Grass Mud Horse is down at the crossroads
Goole analytics made me no money but many men march madly hares to you.
- Wang
move over matthew collings
Carbon created this award-winning campaign to reinforce the leadership of Robitussin®, while also demonstrating its powerful cough and congestion relief. The campaign showcases the brand’s deep-rooted relief, with tree roots representing not only the product’s 50-year heritage, but also the lungs that Robitussin® clears of congestion, reassuring healthcare professionals that they can confidently recommend Robitussin® to their patients.
gets u high, too
and its much cheaper than the rosemary martini i had last night. ok two.
Rosemary Martini | Junipero gin, Canton ginger liqueur, fresh rosemary, lime
I'm drinking beer in cans
I'll try rosmary and let you know how it tastes.
My bubble is shrinking.
ÊŠ³A㥓RË2pðft
creve
Break this.
FW: Towards the beginning of Pain Killers you wrote “All of us, at some point in our life, choose our cliche.” What’s yours?
JS: I suppose mine is that I wrote that sentence.
FW: What do you think your legacy will be?
JS: That, for better or worse, is for others to decide.
About Brooklyn DIY:
"[Williamsburg] looks exciting I wish I had been there"
-Ward Shelley
i loved winkelman.
just couldn't resist.
Beats HBO.
Due to Kathy's braid being stuck in the door and the force of the collision, she is killed instantly. Her body is subsequently dumped in a ravine and her death staged to look like an accidental fall.
Nice coincidence: Bodys Rest, Motion
BUTTE, Mont. (AP) -- A small plane crashed Sunday as it approached an airport in Montana, killing 17 people, including several children, a Federal Aviation Administration spokesman said.
Nick is a feckless television salesman who gets fired and impulsively decides that he and his girlfriend, Beth, will move to Butte, MT, which he's read is "the city of the future." "I read that a while ago, so the future should be there by now," he enthuses.
it's gotten to the point where this braid is saying it all
only a fool believes
your not afraid of a little knife under the matress are you? price of admission. more fun that way.
be pre pared"
Toward the end of his life Chandler said, “The story of our time isn’t the story of war or the atomic bomb. It’s the story of an idealist married to a gangster and how their children and home life turn out.” That's my mom & dad. My mom was the gangster.
the perfect machine
Hey Jerry throws lisa yuskavage under the bus in NYMag. It's good to be the king huh? she dont need him. looks like jerry is approaching irrelivancy more than yuskavage. he says lisa knows too much while he jumps on the bandwagon with the terminally confused...well whats a baby boomer to do?
yeah saltz critiques (fluff piece- agit prop for dumb people/damning with faint praise) a show at the boiler (haven't been seems nice but I'm not so into Pierogi's dealio on the whole.
But press is press.
Same way with Yuskavage - shedefinitely can use press though - who can't.
In the same way, Jerry is championing his crowd which ceases to amaze with novelty and fails to generate interesting takes for conversation - something that spells death to the chattering classes.
But writing for the popular audience has it's limits - there needs to be something deep going on to translate into the shallow ripples. I don't think he has a clue. Which is what hes telegraphing.
Im sympathetic to Jerrys predicament. It's hard to feel joy when youre old. At best you might feel some satisfaction which is not far from smugness and hard to justify or play out gracefully. However hard earned. So you careen around looking for a messy thrill. In this case knowing something becomes a negative. Rooting around in the muck and the mire is again exciting but hello, East Village 1980. Not so new, even with the conceptual tacked on it.
As per Cold War Kids:
Careless in our summer clothes splashing around
in the muck and the mire
Careless in our summer clothes splashing around
in the muck and the mire
fell asleep with stains
cake deep in the knees
what a pain
now hang me up to dry
you wrung me out
too too too many times
now hang me up to dry
I'm pearly like the whites
the whites of your eyes
all mixed up in the wash
hot water bleeding our colors
all mixed up in the wash
hot water bleeinding our colors
never pardon the fusty their fustiness
roberta is way better, that's his chip.
who writes best about art?
hang on, no-one writes anymore.
people type.
who types best about art?
i wish it was all vlogged.
and what's the common prefix to type?
yep, you got it. 2channels.
the shit is shit.
and most aphorisms need to be gently reworked.
A - cntnt - B
X -bs- -hyp- -rlty- Y
you aint a writer, you a typist!
Yuska's fireproof by this stage anyway.
any mention is gassoline.
Any tension is trampoline
Any dimension is another
dimension
andy intention is vaseline
And contention will rupture my spleen
vanity sanity candy manatee
If I only had a brain
Drama queen.
Backlashes come backlashes go.
And Jerry likes the lash!
I always had the impression he endorsed LY (+ Currin, R.Ackermann, R.Lowe, etc) in the early 90s, but maybe my memory fails me. And now he needs to put that behind him in order to see something new. No sweat. We all shift allegiances from time to time.
What will the new thing be? I think pretty obviously it's going to be more social or political, rather than private, sex and fashion issues. The times are a-pressing. But beyond that it’s hard to know what the formal issues will be. I hope we don’t go back to Neo-Ex, but I get the feeling everyone’s sick of the art history pastiche and virtuosity trip and may go primitive, if only to flirt with abstraction. There’s plenty of that around anyway, (see Saatchi’s Abstract America) but nothing that really bites yet. At least not to me.
But if I were a critic intent on forward scouting, that’s where I’d be looking.
something bites.
road trip...
who's R. Lowe? Raw Blow? i mean Rob Lowe. Not endorsable.
Get smart
smart
Any opinions on the Schutz show at Feuer?
Or as they say these days, Fewer
Or maybe Fuhrer?
What a picture, really nice its so lively. Hats off to the painter.
Thanks,
Amanda
Chiang Mai
Dana really got out of the comfort zone, and I admire that. The colors are hideous, so that's good. She's doing some very strange things stylistically. One of those paintings reminds me of a Ben Shaun or something. I like the patterning jokes, and the see thu things. Pretty good.
DANA,
YOUR MACHINATIONS
the TRANSLUCENCY, tepidity.
treading over THE PAST, i can see NOW.
SOME OF THE ROBES, those HOT ROBES.
they used to be a dull vermillion.
and now they are a pastel.
and the designer patterns on the sky.
yes you are right.
BLENDED LIKE water in your frizzy hair.
Someone has been reading other images.
ANd here they come in the filter.
We, all join'd at the root - free at the branch?
Is that opacity a cue to software?
or was it malware
Remedial
I find the results mixed. You could always tell her favorite mark was those little rounded blobs – highlights, bubbles, spots, drops, whatever, right from the start. Everything is basically an extended or expanded blob in Dana world.
And I can see how the acrylic stains and ziggy patterning sort of carry that to larger areas. So the mark-making is more unified and relieves outline of other issues (width, color, detail) to some extent. But it does tend to flatten things out in a way that fights with the content sometimes. Like that weird drop-shadow effect on the card players - I can’t for the life of me think what that’s supposed to do. A shallow depth, like some kind of Cubism? Then lets skip perspective, but of course with that we compromise content.
I come back to very traditional debates about line versus point, tone or volume and depth. I didn’t find this show as much fun as the last, there were less of those anecdotal ones like the blind foot masseur which is probably what we’ve come to expect, and the stab at history painting (was it called The Signing?) – that works better than the JPEG suggests. But I was reminded as much of Dufy as Guston. Guston figuring in comments elsewhere.
I didn’t get a digital vibe (re: Webthing), but those issues of streamlining depth, scale, etc have their counterparts there, for me.
The drop shadow is a false front. Chipboard cut out. Prop.
I think Dana is a tiger, and I like to compare her work and strategies with the sadness and rage of Yuskavage.
so what we gon have, dessert or dissaster?
Overall you get the sense of a precocious magpie pecking at a seed cone.
Color sense is somewhere between waterfront tourist village -unblended matisse, gaugin - has the abrupt flow halt of acrylic applied with a heavy (expressionist) hand.
Imitation of - like a child prodigy doing the famous artist. SO you want to be a modern primitive? I can dig that. Glad there's an audience for it. Me I'm going Power Point.
But what is the game here? Make it active? Too slow for for me. I need visual Sudoku.
Thanks for the Photoshop Tute Zip. Pretty much sums it up.
Oh+Wow - who is suddenly hiding the Younger Than Jesus review over on artreview.com?
Is that the sound of an online hissy fit, Laura?
This page used to be listed under Reviews until a day or so ago. But it’s a well-designed site, unlike the shitty Frieze, and the review can still be searched out.
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