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Saturday, January 10, 2004

Independence online

 
Philadelphia's best arty zine, the Philadelphia Independent, has the beginnings of a website. Woo hoo! Right now, they've got a sampling of their front pages up, and a few stories available to read. (I recommend Issue 1's "Note to the Reader" which lays out endearingly earnest thoughts about the city and how PI hopes to serve by covering stories not otherwise deemed worthy.)

This low-cost (50 cents in town, $1 elsewhere) art project masquerading as a newspaper is available at honor boxes around town and at many bookstores and art galleries. You can subscribe and get it mailed to you or if you're in Chicago, check it out at Quimby's or in Baltimore at Atomic Books.

The paper debuted in 2002 as a quarterly but has been publishing more frequently of late. They've published 10 issues so far according to the website.

The graphic design -- and the great, deadpan headlines -- make beautiful viewing and smart reading. There are always lots of funnies and many art images, too.

Editor Mattathias Schwartz, by the way, says he's going to increase local art coverage in the publication. He and Aaron Levy of Slought Foundation will be debuting a new art page soon. (Did I mention that the newspaper's offices are at Space 1026, 1026 Arch st....just in case you want to stop by and say hello or buy a back issue.) (image is front page of Issue 7, April, 2003, an anti-war issue put together in the blink of an eye as we went to war in Iraq).
permanent link  roberta 9:32 AM
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Friday, January 09, 2004

You know this guy

 

Just in case you thought you weren't familiar with the work of Zhang Huan (his fabulous installation in New York mentioned in Roberta's post of Jan. 6), you've probably seen his work at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where this photo hangs of his 1997 performance, "To Raise the Water Level in a Fishpond" (shown). It's in the hallway that ends in the painting rental place.

What interests me about the new piece is it is part of Zhang's steady progression away from the communal effort required for the fishpond piece (1997) and the "To Add One Meter to an Anonymous Mountain" piece from 1995 (shown), both of which were created in Beijing, China.

Which is not to say that he didn't do solo pieces prior or that his current pieces don't sometimes use a group of people.
permanent link  libby 4:04 PM
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Not with MY moon you don't

 

Libby, I love your righteous anger about the Holzer-Penn boondoggle. I suppose an artist's got to eat...but you do wonder why Holzer'd put her name to such an obviously pandering piece.

In other anger-management news, this morning I read that he whose name will not be mentioned here wants to colonize the moon and send us up to Mars. All I say is leave my lunar love object alone already! (image is this morning's full moon over Philadelphia, 6:30 am) Get back to earth and do something about the mess you made here instead.

Moving anger

And before we move off the anger issue, here's something weird. PAFA's Morris Gallery will host what could be the inflammatory show of the millenium. Brooklyn artist Adam Cvijanovic, who makes painted landscape wallpaper (his work was included in the Fabric Workshop's recent wallpaper show) will revisit the deadly, nightmare that was the MOVE bombing of 1985 (you remember, the city dropped a bomb on the MOVE radicals on Osage Ave. and burned down an entire city block.. 11 lives lost). He'll do so in the context of another Philadelphic -- and Quaker -- classic, "Peaceable Kingdom" by Edward Hicks. The press release says this piece is "a departure from [the artist's] usual subject matter--iconic landscape imagery." I'll say. Show opens Feb. 21. (image is Cjivanovic's "Disko Bay" wallpaper 2001)
permanent link  roberta 8:39 AM
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Thursday, January 08, 2004

Corporation makes "art"

 

The University of Pennsylvania bought itself a Jenny Holzer. No, that's not right. The University of Pennsylvania paid Jenny Holzer and put her name on a walkway with benches where Hill Field at 33rd and Chestnut used to turn to mud under soccer cleats.

A Jenny Holzer has unsettling twisted aphorisms inscribed in lights or incised in metal or stone.

The incised stone is there, in the form of granite benches and curbstones. But this piece has no aphorisms, nothing twisted. It's straight Penn.

The piece does exactly, I would think, what Penn was hoping. It offers quotations that shed historical light on women's education at Penn and the role of women in society. It was created in honor of the 125-year anniversary of women's admission to the university. And it has not a rough edge to ruffle a single feather or raise a hackle.

So Jenny Holzer's main role was as editor, the person who selected which quotations were used. Is this what the artist's role has become? A cat's paw for corporate intent?

Landscape architects designed the space, including the bridge crossing the swale (only landscape architects talk about swales). The walkway was a given in terms of its orientation. The allee of trees was a given.


The "art" was endless words, barely legible quotations from past presidents, past professors, past students, etc.

For succinctness, legibility and poetry you had to look to the "no" sign (shown): No Skateboards/ No In-Line Skates/ No Roller Skates/ No Bicycles/ No Vehicles/In This Area

For art, you had to go home and make a painting.
permanent link  libby 8:47 PM
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Arcadia Works

 
Talk about a big show...sixty artists were chosen (from 900 entries) for the biennial Works on Paper show up at Arcadia University Art Gallery. Read the list.

Always a good venue for local artists, work will be up as of Jan. 16 with the opening reception on Jan 29. From the names I recognized, I'd say it'll be a mix old and new Philadelphia -- from traditionalists (Charles Schmidt) to young hipsters (Rob Matthews, M. Ho, Clint Takeda). (image is detail from Matthews' series "Holy Smokes" which you may remember from the "Greater Philadelphia" exhibit a couple years ago.)

It'll be interesting to see how the show hangs together in the small space.

Prior to the reception on the 29th, this year's WOP juror, Jordan Kantor, Assistant Curator of Prints and Drawings at MOMA, will give a lecture on new trends in drawing. The lecture starts at 6:30 p.m.
permanent link  roberta 2:46 PM
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Manet and the Blockbuster

 

The press kit for the blockbuster "Manet and the Sea" show (coming to the PMA February 15) arrived a while back and I tucked it away knowing I'd go to the press preview. Then I forgot all about it until today when I read a most interesting proposal on how to view a blockbuster show (or how NOT to view one) in Terry Teachout's blog post "When Size Matters."

Teachout's idea that museums should raffle off tickets to regular Joes and Janes for private viewings of blockbuster shows is just too good. Some forward-thinking museum should run with it quick. Thanks Modern Art Notes for the heads up. (image is Manet's "Port of Calais," 1868)
permanent link  roberta 2:08 PM
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Wednesday, January 07, 2004

Books in boxes

 

"13X," the show of artists' books at the Print Center, is worth a visit, in spite of the frustration of having to look at everything as static objects in glass cases.

The show, organized by Print Center Curator Jacqueline van Rhyn and the University of the Arts Book Art Department, comes from Germany, and with Jorg Immendorf about to show at Moore College, it seems like all the more reason to see this show, for some cultural comparison and contrast.

By way of comparison, I'm thinking here of Grimm Brother's Frau Trude designed by Susanne Nickel (shown left), with its Germanic kitschy figures undercut by the watery colors, plastic-looking pages and spiral binding.

I was stunned by some of the obsessive craftsmanship of some of the pieces, like the book with parts shaped like fans with constellation maps that folded and fit in elegant boxes (shown at top, Karin Innerling's Sterntagebucher, Star Diaries). I wondered why the Japanese-ness of the whole product, but thanks to a language barrier, I felt I couldn't pass judgment on that. But I could pass judgment on how the beautiful craftsmanship was overwhelmed by the second layer of control--the vitrine.

Having the book titles in translation, was helpful. But I remained puzzled by some of the books and how they worked, like Unica T's Stadt Land Fluss, City State River (shown). I yearned to know what was in the envelope, and why Scrabble tiles and pictograms were on the cover of something with a geography name. I felt sure that if I could get inside the case and then get inside the book, all would reveal itself, language barrier or no language barrier.

Books are meant for the hand to hold. They require the turning of the elements, the process of moving through the leaves or other parts, to experience the changing views and stories through time.

Print Center Curator Jacqueline Van Rhyn said that displaying artists' books is always a problem because the Print Center lacks the staff to supervise proper handling of the books. She was apologetic, but clear. The books needed protection. Who can argue with that?

The only book that overcame its box was the most unruly book of all.

Uwe Warnke's Entwerter/Oder No. 75, Julilaumsausgabe, Devalued/Or Vol. 75, The Anniversary Edition (text by various authors)(shown) was enough of a departure from traditional binding to require a wobbly, upright display of a couple of its pages, which were covered with stitchery, Sumi brush work and grafitti-like cartooning.


Somehow this book became a sculpture that escaped its glass box and turned its own messy pages.

The range of materials and approaches were a nice surprise, and some of the books are for sale in the Print Center's shop.
permanent link  libby 4:01 PM
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Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Frankly my dear

 

If you live with a teenage girl you probably know the name Paul Frank. He's the designer of cute, cartoony animals that appear on the must-have juniors' clothing for the last couple seasons. Of course Frank has a boutique in Soho and wouldn't you know we found it. (image top is the flag with Julius the monkey outside the PF store on Mulberry St.)

Stella pronounced the boutique a disappointment as a shopping destination (too small).


But while I waited outside I found something that made the trip a success for me -- a grafitti monkey spray-painted on a wall across the street from the store.

Call it Julius's evil twin. I loved it. Whether it sprung from an anti-globalist mindset or one of pure unadulterated jealousy I loved the sass of it. (image above)

Next to Julius's evil twin was another grafitti art drawing (maybe by the same artist?) coupled with stencilled word art. (image below)

I had seen the little octopus on other walls but never accompanied by words.

Here, the slogan "PRAY FOR PILLS" was a lovely twist on "POST NO BILLS." I'm guessing the word art is by another artist.

You don't often find grafitti with a sense of humor. Guerilla Girl posters come to mind of course but I can't think of what else. I was happy to get my yuks where I found them.
permanent link  roberta 12:23 PM
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Downtown ancestors and expanded ladies

 
On the plaza outside the Ritz Carlton hotel in Battery Park City sits one of the least likely public art pieces I've seen. "Peace" by Chinese-born, New York artist Zhang Huan presents what looks like a gilded nude about to have a deadly encounter with a big, dark bell.


Huan, a body artist whose performances are dark and whimsical, puts himself into oppositional relationships with things in the natural or man-made world to emphasize human frailty, longing and other emotional states. (You may remember seeing him at Moore College several years ago when he showed slides and talked -- via translator -- about his work at a symposium about performance art organized in conjunction with the great VALIE EXPORT exhibit.)


Here, in what is supposed to be a moveable interactive sculpture (it was inoperable when I saw it), a cast of the artist's body is headed for a collision with a Chinese bell inscribed with the names of his ancestors. The sign states "the sculpture's movement is currently restricted" and that you should come back again another time. I was most disappointed. I imagine the ring of the bell to be wonderful but I'll never know because I probably won't make it back down there at a time when the bell will be working. (If you've heard it let me know.)

The piece, the third installment of the "Art on the Plaza" program, sponsored by Creative Time in partnership with Millenium Partners, The Ritz Carlton and Battery Park City Authority, will be there through April.

Not that I want to be a complainer about arguably one of the best public art purveyors around but this is the second Creative Time-sponsored installation that's been out of order when I saw it. (the other was the Mariko Mori brain wave machine which was closed due to the heat (see my post of 7/12/03).

I suppose you get what you pay for but it made me question the budgeting for temporary public sculpture and how inadequate maintenance or other fixable (with staff and money) issues might wind up shooting the art in the foot and what a shame that would be. (image top, left and right are Huan's "Peace")


Anyway, before moving on, I'll offer something serendipitous that might qualify as word art. We saw it in Century 21 while cruising for designer bargains. My husband Steve, who collects instances of oddball grammatical construction (eg, "Not all doors will open" an Amtrak fave) took the picture.

We wondered if expanded ladies is a new euphemism for plus-size. (image bottom is word art from Century 21)

permanent link  roberta 11:38 AM
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Black lace gazebo on New York wall

 

We were celebrating Stella's birthday last weekend in New York. You know, lots of shopping and one art event. So I coralled the gang and we went to the opening of our friend and artblog contributor Astrid Bowlby's "INMEYE" at Elizabeth Harris Gallery in Chelsea.

Bowlby's ink-on-cut-paper installation has a new black presence I hadn't seen before. Amidst the flower petals, butterflies and leaves, all outlined freehand in deft, thick strokes were large and small blobby shapes painted completely black.


Some had rounded edges and looked like ink drops flung at the walls and floor. Others were improbably long thick black lines that crawled the floor (tripping was a possibility) or headed up walls to evoke a kind of architectural space -- an ur gazebo maybe.


The large outcroppings on the walls might have had the greatest impact visually but most of the piece's physical presence was on the floor. Polly Apfelbaum comes to mind...and Kara Walker.

The piece is darkness in the garden; Alice in Wonderland in fishnet stockings and black lace underwear. (images are detail shots of the piece) Show's up to Jan. 31.
permanent link  roberta 7:35 AM
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Monday, January 05, 2004

First Friday, poop and all

 
Tiny but well-rounded

It was a lovely night last Friday and the strollers were out in abundance. The crowd at Muse Gallery looking at the "Monumental Micros" exhibit was so thick it congealed making the journey through the nice exhibit something akin to squeezing by passengers in a crowded elevator.

"Micros," a joint project of Philadelphia Sculptors and Sculptors Inc. of Baltimore, is a concept show. All the work is tiny, supposed to be no bigger than a match box. Many of the pieces had some humor, as befits sculpture you can put in your pocket, although, as with many concept-shows, some work felt a bit perfunctory -- fulfilling the "smallness" challenge without adding anything more.

Three boat-themed wall pieces by Jennifer Becker of Baltimore seem to rise above with personal iconography and charm (a big bunny in a tiny boat, a tube of paint in a hand-knit sweater, a boat made from a photograph). (image, top)

My friend Bay and I did the snake walk in the crowded space and found a number of things to enjoy.

The impulse to miniaturize sculpture works best, I think, if you're making a realist piece. There were great numbers of abstract works -- in cast bronze and other materials -- and whether on the wall or on the pedestal, the abstract sculptures were hard to read and seemed, well, diminished as objects.


Philadelphian John Constanza's three cartoon-like, narrative environments installed in matchboxes were appealing, especially one that portrayed a viewer staring up at a mini-version of one of Costanza's own sculptures -- an endless column of egg-like shapes. It was very sweet. Not only that, but guess what, he's a poop artist! Check out his "Oops," the dog. (image above left, made of paint and ceramic objects) Not that we're obsessed or anything...


Flatlands

Next door at Third St. Gallery, Rhea Dennis' hand-made paper and paint constructions were flat, and charming and sweet as cherries on the wall. With their obsessive dot, dot, dotting motifs and primitive imagery (dogs, birds, mountains and streams full of fish) the nicely-textured works had sophisticated nativist written all over them. (image is detail of "Dvina")


Across the street at Artist's House, Barbara Berg's South Jersey landscapes were lovely -- and sold out. (Her prices seemed moderate -- in the $400 - $900 range) Berg said her scenes came right from her neighborhood. She lives near Delaware Bay and the images were of marshlands, paths in the sandy flatlands and woods). She's painting what she loves and you can tell. (image left is Berg's)


Also at Artist's House, Tony Rosati's watercolors referenced Japanese wave imagery and were nice if not compelling. I liked his dark sky, cosmic monoprints better. (image is Rosati's watercolor "Breakers")

Finally, at LaPelle Gallery, Peter Grimord's photo-collages of bridges from around the country made striking black and white linear designs. Grimord's designs which take some of the more lyrical, arching aspects of the bridges and reverse them for a kaleidiscopic affect, are framed with industrial-looking aluminum frames so that the whole object has a bridge-y affect.

I liked the artist's interactive sculptures as well. They were constructed like bridges (girders and cantilevers and hardware all over the place) and looked like colorful, delicate see-saws. Their interplay with the space was formal and abstract but because you could touch them and make their moveable arms go up and down and their shadows dance, their playfulness undercut the formalism. I played away -- and loved it. (image bottom is one of Grimord's sculptures -- in the background is one of his photo-collages)

Bottom line, whether flat or 3-D, there's nice work out there this month. And Libby and I have only just begun to look.
permanent link  roberta 8:32 AM
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Sunday, January 04, 2004

Unforgotten

 

Hanna Hannah’s show "Aftermath/Afterimage" on destruction and danger and loss at Schmidt/Dean does not transform terrible obsessions into beauty, but it does transform them into compelling—and ultimately strange–art.

I saw the work a month ago (it’ll be up until Jan. 10), and wasn’t sure what I wanted to say about it, so it’s been marinating and following me around in my mind. I don’t think I’m going to forget these images.

In two suites of paintings Hannah takes sallies at the same image over and over again.

In the Taking of Grozny Series, she roughly paints a photograph she saw of the war-torn city over a background of mulberry paper, beautifully tinted and delicately painted with wallpaper-like repeating patterns that speak of the pleasures of a safe, domesticated world—animals for the kids’ rooms, flowers for the dining room, birds in the trees for the hall, etc. The domesticity and beauty and order of the paper stand in contrast to the central painting, a roughly brushed center of oily anger topped by a black stripe opening into a heart of darkness.

The safe domesticity of the background is shattered by the war outside. The colors of the central photo change from painting to painting--a response to the domestic border. The pieces are decorously framed behind glass and hung around the room nicely spaced.

The other suite, Kindertotenlied (Song for Dead Children), are small paintings on large sheets of plain rice paper tacked to the wall in a tight grid. Again the painting is a roughly brushed center of pain, the colors jarring in the face of death--a dead child, laid out on a white cloth, a washtub in the right foreground (perhaps where the body was bathed for burial), the background perhaps adults kneeling and standing over the baby, their heads and hearts cut out of the painting.

The baby looks doll-like and everything is a little hard to read, just like the death of one so young. Each picture includes a slightly different amount of background and foreground (in this series the colors are pretty much unchanging) but none of the paintings brings the image into a focus that can make sense of the terrible truth.

Hannah, a survivor of World War II who escaped to South America, keeps returning to the loss, the pain, the paintings like a tongue seeking out a missing tooth, over and over again.



permanent link  libby 11:40 AM
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