tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35917649813629639642024-02-25T23:01:49.176-08:00Asya Says"Asya Says" aims to provide a photo and text-rich experience of the art world-- galleries, museums, fairs, and openings, and the fantastic things people wear as they spread their peacock feathers in the art-world mating dance. The art world is a place full of delicate egos and dramatic overreaching. Asya Says: it's much better than reality TV!Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-87543120433555699842012-12-05T06:28:00.000-08:002012-12-05T06:28:11.916-08:00UNTITLED art fair opening<h2>
<b>UNTITLED Art Fair Opening Night, Miami.</b></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-g6g2ePy6vYFaVYRQEBeQO1C5t-hrnlBxOXnKSu-8orGRGD4rwxk17O1AuSHS30rzRD4mZ3YrooYcU6JujbXSifMhVkLqQEEihHSNEtTgayf8Iu9D_lGARgUXV2I0o9UqYrtggdUasaY/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-g6g2ePy6vYFaVYRQEBeQO1C5t-hrnlBxOXnKSu-8orGRGD4rwxk17O1AuSHS30rzRD4mZ3YrooYcU6JujbXSifMhVkLqQEEihHSNEtTgayf8Iu9D_lGARgUXV2I0o9UqYrtggdUasaY/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a><b>Opening :Monday, December 4th, 6 - 9.</b></div>
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<b>Ocean Drive and 12th Street.</b></div>
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<b>Open to the public:</b></div>
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<b>Wednesday - Saturday, 11 - 7.</b></div>
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<b>Sunday 11 - 6.</b></div>
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<b><a href="http://art-untitled.com/">art-untitled.com</a></b></div>
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On Monday, December 3rd, the inaugural version of the UNTITLED art fair opened to a buzzing audience, brimming with curiosity about Miami's first beachfront art fair. </div>
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Walking through a bright pink gate that acted as a Parthenon-like conceptual conceipt: its entire purpose as a signifier of the culture that you were about to enter, then walking a narrow gauntlet surrounded by sand into the actual structure. People arrived from light and noise: the tourist-laden 2-for-1-drinks hawking streets of Ocean Drive - to darkness, to a spotlit hot pink vinyl mini-house shape, and back to spot-lit walkway and black sky.</div>
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<i>Right: image by Kianga Ellis.</i></div>
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<i>Below: image of opening night gate by RedEye.</i></div>
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With gorgeous sunset views slowly fading into twilight over the ocean, and then moonlight coming through clouds and palm trees, this fair distinctively placed itself among nature, and the most uncrowded sightline of infinite sky and water. Unlike most fairs where after clogged aisles and artificial light, visitors returned to the visual overstimulation of Miami architecture and color, at UNTITLED visitors received the supine loveliness of the wide beach environment.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIQBUq7ZJ9RqjXRDZtJLBawp3wUFljOOoVDZLrnyyROo37qv85loXZKO0QbaQad4NzsBvIx13K3g9b7UJoPqHv94DyanqJoOrLxIH03x_pN3tDRS25ZdzgEkPWIXHI_Blij39-Zgdi5U/s1600/Miami+Sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIQBUq7ZJ9RqjXRDZtJLBawp3wUFljOOoVDZLrnyyROo37qv85loXZKO0QbaQad4NzsBvIx13K3g9b7UJoPqHv94DyanqJoOrLxIH03x_pN3tDRS25ZdzgEkPWIXHI_Blij39-Zgdi5U/s320/Miami+Sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Inside, the fair had the same openness to natural light during the day, and even at night visitors could go on a balcony directly form the cafe to enjoy the ocean. </div>
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<i>Right: view from balcony outside UNTITLED cafe.</i></div>
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<i>Below: Image of view from UNTITLED cafe.</i></div>
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All in all the opening was packed with patrons, with lines of people outside waiting to get in, and some not gaining entry due to capacity restrictions. The buzz was strong, the art-lookers serious and committed to checking out this brand-new fair, and the tall-tented open venue provided them 50 galleries and art spaces full of thoughtfully selected art. Curated by Omar Lopez-Chahoud, each booth had a feeling of openness as well, showing the months of inividualized attention Chahoud gave to each gallery's program, selection and installation. Architectural firm Keenan/Riley also deserved much credit for providing the atmosphere of freedom and time to explore and reflect.</div>
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<i>Below: opening night madness, UNTITLED.</i></div>
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UNTITLED 2012 gave us a chance to see the possible future of fairs - taking its cue perhaps from this year's Frieze NYC's extreme freedom to create their own vision on Randall's Island in New York City, UNTITLED. More integrated into Miami's South Beach alternately beach-relaxed and manically touristic culture, UNTITLED aimed to both stand out as a uniquley-situated cultural beacon and slowly arise from the sand. We hope for many happy returns for future iterations of this fair.</div>
Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-78444650869155595202011-11-05T14:30:00.000-07:002011-11-05T15:00:13.847-07:00Lisa Ross Catalog & Artist Talk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDRUUXoxHeWW84s2MIJPOwAKA-DcbW48kEWcMyNYmy7Y7Br5-4gHBlOMv6_ICfksj1qHXRlY0-g6_aHGjD9JV2i8t02Fea7S7JuL1JWSTG2w6Rv0eGUEi6GiI-fEoEZLXOEoRQxlJi60/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-11-05+at+5.31.36+PM.png"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 328px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDRUUXoxHeWW84s2MIJPOwAKA-DcbW48kEWcMyNYmy7Y7Br5-4gHBlOMv6_ICfksj1qHXRlY0-g6_aHGjD9JV2i8t02Fea7S7JuL1JWSTG2w6Rv0eGUEi6GiI-fEoEZLXOEoRQxlJi60/s400/Screen+shot+2011-11-05+at+5.31.36+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671627765603524018" border="0" /></a>I am pleased to announce that the<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lisa Ross: After Night </span>catalog is now available at the gallery. This has been a very exciting catalog to be able to produce, as Lisa's current series, on beds found in the desert landscape, is perfect for this format. The catalog is 22 pages, full color, $15: for inquiries please email the gallery at info@asyageisberggallery.com.<br /><br />Lisa Ross will be giving an <span style="font-weight: bold;">artist talk </span>at the gallery on Saturday, November 12, at 1pm. A light brunch will be served.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXC5OWSvLc-VpUT_RUMaIV63SvmrlBkFRdJoW17tI7AWtXGyAdQlA5k-fhInwbQ49ajI0tugz5HyTPLaaDddzSg19KxkYgUH6wlI_P_Y8htewvkzbub83hVhEyhWI9S0e3KNUdWKblvI/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-11-05+at+5.38.58+PM.png"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXC5OWSvLc-VpUT_RUMaIV63SvmrlBkFRdJoW17tI7AWtXGyAdQlA5k-fhInwbQ49ajI0tugz5HyTPLaaDddzSg19KxkYgUH6wlI_P_Y8htewvkzbub83hVhEyhWI9S0e3KNUdWKblvI/s320/Screen+shot+2011-11-05+at+5.38.58+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671634183231172018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The exhibition has also received press in aCurator magazine, Uprise Art, and soon in La Lettre de la Photographie. Check the NEWS section of the website for links.Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-83758824981083847052011-09-24T12:16:00.000-07:002011-09-24T12:36:19.340-07:00"Salvajes"opening<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhskIlc58j17b8rJCfGgkbVTHg8HrvnBIXKhReOj_945lkvwegR1OWaZ5A0p2-Y7wkJlKU49t0cBrshpa1TSVuuWg_Jkk9Bjt3-p_fnoswEeSwwAnGL4N01X3K_zkf2ojGX3UkAiSAe5c/s1600/InstallFrontWB.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhskIlc58j17b8rJCfGgkbVTHg8HrvnBIXKhReOj_945lkvwegR1OWaZ5A0p2-Y7wkJlKU49t0cBrshpa1TSVuuWg_Jkk9Bjt3-p_fnoswEeSwwAnGL4N01X3K_zkf2ojGX3UkAiSAe5c/s400/InstallFrontWB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656009460395861730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Installation; "Salvajes".</span><br /><br />"<span style="font-weight: bold;">Salvajes</span>", an exhibition of eight artists, opened September 15. Curated by Guillermo Creus, "Salvajes" is inspired by the lyrical, political and metaphorical themes in the writing of Roberto Bolaño , conceptually aligning the Chilean writer’s characters and motifs with the works of eight contemporary Latin American artists. Drawing parallels between these artists and Bolaño’s persona as a nomadic writer, “Salvajes” intends to be Latin American in its essence, and universal in its language. The title of the exhibition, “Salvajes” (<span style="font-style: italic;">savages</span>), refers to one of Bolaño’s most important novels, <span style="font-style: italic;">Los Detectives Salvajes</span>, and to the stereotypical image of Latin Americans as the uncivilized.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDOFXnsU7goj_un_h04CcoDGMRuX1cEuM0TKHxbyFysMHPLupuHMBRUIz2NFnJK7dS032clDpQztwij7ulilX9oX5lOt5ThJ546PA_yjNW_ZtQPQvoZanzXpXkcna5l1LZwIRAPX9TAg/s1600/_MG_8375.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfDOFXnsU7goj_un_h04CcoDGMRuX1cEuM0TKHxbyFysMHPLupuHMBRUIz2NFnJK7dS032clDpQztwij7ulilX9oX5lOt5ThJ546PA_yjNW_ZtQPQvoZanzXpXkcna5l1LZwIRAPX9TAg/s320/_MG_8375.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656009822992834482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Curator Guillermo Creus in front of "Stela of the Gods of New York" by Irvin Morazan.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Alberto Borea</span> (born in Peru) was educated at Bard and Skowhegan, and has had solo exhibitions at Galeria Isabel Hurley and the Y Gallery. He is currently in the Museo del<br />Barrio biennial show, The S Files. Awards and residencies include ISCP, Art Omi, a Pollock-Krasner Grant, and a Sculpture Space Residency.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Florencia Escudero</span> (born in Argentina) has a BFA from SVA, and is currently completing her MFA at Yale University.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibGihOQiLEbiuWX3_s7MmApubkvKN_fehCB3RgbBU_KCcFGuhbXxK4o01xAl7hNVbdmMfRkq6eYZ3IVvYdWA_j5aISk8MXJsm_4ufqxDJ9uTrYK4CSrLEjatCX_jbpVTtja5BKZJtSfKc/s1600/_MG_8362.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibGihOQiLEbiuWX3_s7MmApubkvKN_fehCB3RgbBU_KCcFGuhbXxK4o01xAl7hNVbdmMfRkq6eYZ3IVvYdWA_j5aISk8MXJsm_4ufqxDJ9uTrYK4CSrLEjatCX_jbpVTtja5BKZJtSfKc/s320/_MG_8362.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656010587928265922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Florencia Escudero (Left) by paintings by Ricardo Gonzalez.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ricardo Gonzalez</span> was born in Mexico City and completed his MFA at New York University, with exhibitions at Apexart, Kathleen Cullen, and LaMama Gallery.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Claudia Joskowicz</span> was born in Bolivia and has an MFA from NYU. She has had solo exhibitions at Thierry Goldberg, Museo Nacional de Arte in La Paz, Bolivia, and Momenta. She has received an AIM residency, LMCC residency, a Fullbright Scholarship, and a Guggenheim Fellowship. She has been included in group shows at LMAK Projects, the Sao Paolo Biennial, the Sharjah Biennial, the 10th Havana Biennial, and Socrates Sculpture Park.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUL78GsVtEuuWQBTI-rhpysq6rwxF5xNuPosXQaDUzNDKPF6aVVZf-HA9-K6jwVduUaodSyuAD-6xaIi70XvEHfvQeTA8JRxJmKcCiQDGLfSj9BaCRjnhyl-kWZPSfeXJMNPmtw9yFzg/s1600/A%2526G%252C+Claudia.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUL78GsVtEuuWQBTI-rhpysq6rwxF5xNuPosXQaDUzNDKPF6aVVZf-HA9-K6jwVduUaodSyuAD-6xaIi70XvEHfvQeTA8JRxJmKcCiQDGLfSj9BaCRjnhyl-kWZPSfeXJMNPmtw9yFzg/s320/A%2526G%252C+Claudia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656011289965063026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Asya Geisberg, Guillermo Creus, and Claudia Joscowicz, by photo of Alberto Borea.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Irvin Morazan</span> was born in El Salvador. He has a BFA from SVA, and is completing his MFA at Hunter College. He is included in the current Museo del Barrio show “The S Files”. He will be performing September 30th for Salvajes, and will be included in Performa 11 with a performance on November 2nd.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Meyer Vaisman</span> is an influential artist of the 1980-90s New York art scenes, and together with Ashley Bickerton, Jeff Koons, and Peter Halley known as the ‘Fantastic Four’. Born in 1960 in Venezuela to Romanian-Ukranian Jewish parents, he brings a cross-generational aspect to this exhibition, as a pioneer Latin-American artist that reached the New York art establishment “from inside”. He has exhibited at Gavin Brown’s Enterprise, Leo Castelli, Jablonka Gallery, and Patrick Painter among others.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Manuela Viera-Gallo</span> (born in Rome, grew up in Chile) received her BFA and MFA from<br />the Universidad Catolica in Chile. She had a solo exhibition at the Y Gallery in 2011 and is widely exhibited in New York, South America, and Europe.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Carlos Vela-Prado</span> (born in Guatemala) is currently completing his MFA at Yale University.<br /><br />For images from the exhibition, go to <a href="http://www.asyageisberggallery.com/">asyageisberggallery.com</a>.Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-59410108853236363392011-07-07T09:31:00.000-07:002011-07-07T09:54:53.495-07:00"Things Fall Apart" opens Thursday July 7 at SVA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZJasOw2zSW6Y-wrok4MkmJYHHK4U0Le0b2vTdlVXexU27PYD0aot0ygjVS8N_Ypdy3VkiPYmCRCMp7hhWEIUiKQtarC9trs3FWtO4OX92yAiUEIoE8dSBqvnX9KRUulVoP-c4PaxqLc/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-07+at+12.30.53+PM.png"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZJasOw2zSW6Y-wrok4MkmJYHHK4U0Le0b2vTdlVXexU27PYD0aot0ygjVS8N_Ypdy3VkiPYmCRCMp7hhWEIUiKQtarC9trs3FWtO4OX92yAiUEIoE8dSBqvnX9KRUulVoP-c4PaxqLc/s400/Screen+shot+2011-07-07+at+12.30.53+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626649483923597266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >"Things Fall Apart"</span><br /><p><strong>July 5 - August 13, 2011<br /> Reception: Thursday, July 7, 6 - 8pm </strong><br /> <br /> School of Visual Arts (SVA) presents "Things Fall Apart," an exhibition of work by students and recent graduates of the MFA Fine Arts Department and curated by <strong>Asya Geisberg. </strong></p><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">The exhibition's title reflects the mood of the world at large, as during the past few years economic and political tumult has produced financial 'corrections,' regional upheavals, and overturned assumptions of fealty among allies and enmity among foes. Decades of inertia have abruptly turned into revolutionary fervor in the Middle East, while at home political sureties have crumbled - the words 'gay marriage' have swung the polls in opposite directions. With no culmination in sight, this constant sense of repositioned status quo, of definitions and boundaries blown up, is reflected in art being produced today."</span> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">In "Things Fall Apart," artists refuse to take easy categorizations or art-historical imperatives for granted. <strong>Andrew Brischler</strong> (current student, MFA Fine Arts Department) upends the essence of painting, <strong>Betty Hart</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) acts as a modern alchemist with photography, and <strong>Jenny Santos</strong> (current student, MFA Fine Arts Department) disrupts perceptions of stability and solidity with seemingly simple gestures.<strong> Theresa Friess</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) mixes ethereal materiality with functional paradoxes, while <strong>Kim Smith's</strong> (current student, MFA Fine Arts Department) surfaces spark a confusion of additive and reductive marks.</p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><strong>Sharona Eliassaf's</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) media-influenced conflations and <strong>Joey Varas's</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) deconstructed war mementos decontextualize recognizable elements of our current state of "always-plugged-in" and "always-at-war." <strong>Katie Cercone</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) takes sensory overstimulation into the performative realm, enveloping her actions and videos in equally cacophonic environments. <strong>Julie Schenkelberg's</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) sculpture absorbs knowledge into a symbolic dead-end. </p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><strong>Emily Weiner's</strong> (MFA 2011 Fine Arts) symmetrical paintings start with the broken tradition of exalted nature, while mocking the impossibility of reaching the Ideal. <strong>Gudmundur Thoroddsen </strong>(MFA 2011 Fine Arts) dissolves dichotomies of the sacred and the profane, leaving the Ideal behind altogether.<strong> Angela Branco </strong>(MFA 2011 Fine Arts) reenacts what some might consider the essence of destructive and ritualistic power. <strong>Miyeon Lee </strong>(MFA 2011 Fine Arts), seemingly wishing for things to be back together, tries to show us a world of cosmic infinity, pinning the unknowable within the picture plane.</p><p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">----Asya Geisberg</p><p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><a href="http://www.schoolofvisualarts.edu/sa/index.jsp?sid0=201&page_id=139&event_id=1648">Visual Arts Gallery</a>: 601 West 26th street, 15th floor</p><p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Monday through Saturday, 10am - 5pm<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9YM1ZvaARHJG-vNMdX50ok1QnPgS78_lQXkbeFf3fBYdqlFeyUXsQW1tTuxxlFjllF-8xeApo0u5eN8sYCDWRnr6hGnyve2UCIwa2CeyEpFzxH9RwiA7k2zl4-I2rTvFSA0bNsqYf8I/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-07-07+at+12.30.53+PM.png"><br /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-2176084476572587612011-02-04T10:15:00.000-08:002011-02-04T16:25:27.396-08:00NYT review of "Hearts of Oak"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1JI60qLCn58bUJg5_4HGRJ-GnRxEYiIJryd6NbDF3Fv2HyGRoCb-RmpKQyjpVeQqnwoSV5_Pbji_Xa6lt55lT66PyZnhXpC3G0b82bI34y_YMzPve-ROYaAFvzb6AR3_vgFdE3jSccE/s1600/IMG_1968.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1JI60qLCn58bUJg5_4HGRJ-GnRxEYiIJryd6NbDF3Fv2HyGRoCb-RmpKQyjpVeQqnwoSV5_Pbji_Xa6lt55lT66PyZnhXpC3G0b82bI34y_YMzPve-ROYaAFvzb6AR3_vgFdE3jSccE/s320/IMG_1968.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569987381403792306" border="0" /></a><br />One simply cannot describe the feeling of going out in the cold morning, picking up a <span style="font-weight: bold;">New York Times</span> in one's sweatpants, throwing it on the kitchen counter, tearing a section rapidly in search of the page where one's name is found, not once, not twice, but...you get it. I know the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/04/arts/design/04galleries-ANNIEATTRIDG_RVW.html?ref=todayspaper">review</a> is of the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Annie Attridge</span> exhibition, which in addition to the reviews she received in the <a href="http://www.thelmagazine.com/newyork/annie-attridges-pornographic-tchotchkes/Content?oid=1944611">L magazine </a>and <a href="http://artlog.com/posts/4321-annie-attridge-hearts-of-oak">Artlog</a> she richly deserves. But, the ego is a sensitive creature, and when its fur is gently petted by the silken palm of "All the News that's Fit to Print", a gentle purr occurs.<br /><br />In other words, yay!<br /><br />Check out the Roberta Smith review below:<br /><br /><br />----------------------<br /><div class="timestamp">February 3, 2011</div> <h1><span style="font-size:130%;">ANNIE ATTRIDGE: ‘Hearts of Oak’</span></h1> <h6 class="byline"><span style="font-size:100%;">By <a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/s/roberta_smith/index.html?inline=nyt-per" title="More Articles by Roberta Smith" class="meta-per">ROBERTA SMITH</a></span></h6> <p> <span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Asya Geisberg Gallery</em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>537B West 23rd Street</em></span> </p> <p> <span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Chelsea</em></span> </p> <p> <span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Through Feb. 12</em></span> </p> <p> <span style="font-family:arial;">The British artist Annie Attridge shows a lot of awkward promise in her New York gallery debut. She works small and mainly in glazed porcelain, pushing traditionally demure tabletop figurines into compromising, often ribald positions while downsizing the heroic conventions of royal portraiture. The rearing horse is a favorite device, except that the rider tends to be a nude woman, a voluptuous breast or a pair of female buttocks swathed in frills, rather than a king. </span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;"> There is not a man in sight here, only women offering up their bodies — or parts of them — in various ways. This can include being bound, possibly bleeding, to a truncated tree in the manner of <a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/g/francisco_de_goya/index.html?inline=nyt-per" title="More articles about Francisco de Goya." class="meta-per">Goya</a>’s “Disasters of War” etchings. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;"> Ms. Attridge’s slurred forms are more immediately indebted to the British sculptor Rebecca Warren, who also works with clay, and the Swedish claymation genius Nathalie Djurberg. At this point their very different skills in combining abstract and narrative force exceed hers. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;"> Nonetheless, Ms. Attridge has a sure way with materials and a perverse sense of form that extends into small charcoal drawings and also bronze sculpture, especially the gleaming variation on a cathedral termite mound that culminates in three breasts. </p> <span style="font-family:arial;"> Most of all there is the sexual and sexualized defiance of her vision. She has women on the brain in ways that would probably be frowned upon these days were she not a woman herself. As it is, Ms. Attridge is extending a tradition of small lascivious sculpture that reaches back to ancient times. </span>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-12869890745031751872011-02-01T16:28:00.000-08:002011-02-05T10:03:40.034-08:00Art LA Contemporary<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioe-2ehrrlfSOfVlIrzW5uM1BbCiT8KcjPb9vHdfj_bn2J6eG2H_KgAsu9MfOsrmVQXuggGKpkV-cWY84pyg5I6_CX1Ss5fBsea7zRHq3wuZlSiJf1IoaL0NjDcppPq_9V9bnF4_qUbuE/s1600/IMG_1907.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioe-2ehrrlfSOfVlIrzW5uM1BbCiT8KcjPb9vHdfj_bn2J6eG2H_KgAsu9MfOsrmVQXuggGKpkV-cWY84pyg5I6_CX1Ss5fBsea7zRHq3wuZlSiJf1IoaL0NjDcppPq_9V9bnF4_qUbuE/s400/IMG_1907.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569996050928545298" border="0" /></a>My first art fair as a participant brought about a few lessons on what to do, and what not to do. These lessons can be applied to anyone, whether hosting a party, or running a gallery, or doing any kind of dealing with the public.<br /><br />1. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Do not have a trash can</span>. This might seem counter-intuitive, as you would think trash should be kept away from the clean and elegant environment you no doubt wish to preserve. I bought a lovely minimal perfect-sized white trash can to sit daintily (and discreetly) under my desk. However, as the VVIP opening went into the VIP opening and then to the general opening, I found that the more "V"s were in front of the "IP"s, the more crudely did people think it permissible to throw coffee cups (with coffee) glasses (with bright red-colored alcohol) and food into my lovely unsoiled can, which by the way was inches away from my legs, so it felt particularly invasive and insulting. Some people spied the can from the hall and threw it from afar. I kid not.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNcqHt8Rf-MBAathNSt1pI1Fy9hsFOXaqJdyMpumUDnO9qBqLgA_rqOx4auSXTBpMwFDl1qDdr6WWU0IF7ebDYLph739kyw0nS-ro71vrNGDIn9Fja1Z-0L8g_jYbKpOeeqzJPd-WXMk/s1600/IMG_1906.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMNcqHt8Rf-MBAathNSt1pI1Fy9hsFOXaqJdyMpumUDnO9qBqLgA_rqOx4auSXTBpMwFDl1qDdr6WWU0IF7ebDYLph739kyw0nS-ro71vrNGDIn9Fja1Z-0L8g_jYbKpOeeqzJPd-WXMk/s320/IMG_1906.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569996579839117698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: stuff...</span><br /><br />2. <span style="font-weight: bold;">The less stuff the better.</span> I love information, and like to provide it so that people don't have to ask but can look for themselves. Not so at an art fair. Less is more I realized. Put everything in one notebook, and then sit back and relax. Or rather...<br /><br />3.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Sitting is the devil</span>. My back each morning was more and more agonized- perhaps it was all the LA driving, but most likely it was the awful chairs that I sat in for hours. By day 3 I realized that the intermittent shuffling and fake IPhone-scrolling of the dealer opposite me was actually a back-saving strategy. While constantly standing and pacing outside the perimeter of his booth, he somehow managed to not look like a caffeinated tchotchke-seller at the suk, but a chillaxed dude, who just happened to be the dude you would contact at the booth.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkG5QVlcfoi70JZyPHuixTJbOu04SwfOyghERLA64Q6AwAh51J900XSyi-Ce18S32dL5I2f5QMdPlQyCmRw-Vk8kfYoTwm__4bdgY7DhhusoiVgSVuf05weHwUYdEB5VnJ9eUxFQREmvQ/s1600/IMG_1916.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkG5QVlcfoi70JZyPHuixTJbOu04SwfOyghERLA64Q6AwAh51J900XSyi-Ce18S32dL5I2f5QMdPlQyCmRw-Vk8kfYoTwm__4bdgY7DhhusoiVgSVuf05weHwUYdEB5VnJ9eUxFQREmvQ/s400/IMG_1916.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569996299569929890" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Angelina Gualdoni corner of booth, with uncomfy devil chair.</span><br /><br />4. <span style="font-weight: bold;">People expect Art 101 and want to "chat".</span> I had a woman come back twice to have me explain "how long should I hold onto an artwork before I sell it?" Another man asked me about how value is defined in art and wanted a full debate. A grumpy old man attacked with "Is this the state of the art world today? If so, then my four-year-old could do a lot better." I was expected to debate the meaning of art, explain the point of art fairs, defend the ethics of dealers, and nutshell the art-as-investment theory, all on a busy Saturday. I have encountered this in triplicate at the gallery of course, but having 100 square feet makes one feel beleaguered. Hence, the beauty of the dealer pacing outside the booth.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />5. Save the best outfit for de-installation</span>. I had brought a variety of comfortable and unremarkable outfits to wear, which all proved wrong as the temperature at the unheated airplane hangar plummeted at about 3pm each day, so that some dealers were seen wearing furs and scarves (and coats!) all day. By de-install, I had switched into jeans, while a prominent French dealer was seen attacking a 6 foot crate with a massive screw-gun while in a tight dress and 4-inch stilettos (so very French). As half the lights in the booths were off, another dealer, with long hair and a tall lanky build, stood still holding a large framed piece. A spotlight shined on his immaculate fuschia suede shoe, making it leap from the quiet darkness: one of the more aestheticized moments of the entire fair.<br /><br />Overall, a great experience!Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-64269160305839035322011-01-15T16:02:00.000-08:002011-02-05T10:04:31.189-08:00Newsweek in print<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUaIeDKASPeFETUHg9EGUiQLwHLQlkz1VHJHfwLy_b9UNIxRmZwO-2GvPH1FgT5ZT-l3_f7tsYoZehMQwhovOUdlzz1J7x3pRR8uBtWtgwpF5ZYpZPvVaVDBdzTfPdeAIX1zuZ0-_L4U/s1600/IMG_1972.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUaIeDKASPeFETUHg9EGUiQLwHLQlkz1VHJHfwLy_b9UNIxRmZwO-2GvPH1FgT5ZT-l3_f7tsYoZehMQwhovOUdlzz1J7x3pRR8uBtWtgwpF5ZYpZPvVaVDBdzTfPdeAIX1zuZ0-_L4U/s400/IMG_1972.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569991416264921826" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.newsweek.com/2011/01/02/new-galleries-heat-up-new-york-s-art-market.html">Newsweek</a><a href="http://www.newsweek.com/2011/01/02/new-galleries-heat-up-new-york-s-art-market.html"> article </a>by Sameer Reddy out in print!<br /><br />"Hot New York art galleries" p.49 - 51.<br /><br />AGG mentioned on p.51, with two photos of paintings by gallery artists Angelina Gualdoni ["Fragment"] and Melanie Daniel ["Peacock"] on p.50.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdziVl9AvLo9pZPOTibt6gs4yrzmHDiyKMCR00p0G8Z9abL0T7hgyxO8wz1VFceVtnjhy0smvm61ybdEXla5apnLfHz_e2HVZNTeaXW4oS5i16WXR0kKop86Tib-zlFOe7U3adMEUMQU8/s1600/IMG_1972.jpg"><br /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBn1c8cvVXsS6ozRANWQlxHKitcoxErYsQiFdqw7QLYgDeOWUGj0EJtRICn5ohdPJCyxd6bFW3ER-0CPm7Wr50kxntGqO0mRoct_IoawE7ON2kMHygpb6nXyZh1piwR0E_f7aTOIX54g/s1600/article+pg2.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBn1c8cvVXsS6ozRANWQlxHKitcoxErYsQiFdqw7QLYgDeOWUGj0EJtRICn5ohdPJCyxd6bFW3ER-0CPm7Wr50kxntGqO0mRoct_IoawE7ON2kMHygpb6nXyZh1piwR0E_f7aTOIX54g/s400/article+pg2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569993310537135810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyanqKgqtOIa48TYzU-uzX99TGyng1wzkm6_uLHWQjkMsRB9RSV4bnUdartQ6HZGanV8yaG2v7VUAsixOI_6F-OLGNf9K96cb1oqtSF_p-YJHYOV2l82SHdG6nnvWkd3ZvwUwmT6pVVE/s1600/article+pg1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyanqKgqtOIa48TYzU-uzX99TGyng1wzkm6_uLHWQjkMsRB9RSV4bnUdartQ6HZGanV8yaG2v7VUAsixOI_6F-OLGNf9K96cb1oqtSF_p-YJHYOV2l82SHdG6nnvWkd3ZvwUwmT6pVVE/s320/article+pg1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569990878739305298" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7P36sCaFupCFssGObWP6cWhjoL8v2_F2cUtxMdzHivP1A4GRc2rwgL7fgjHA6pTWN2Q2oxOzorIE3xWsq7_kQcOclQSJ-3QAeyHxb-H3f1ODXjtqyLj7fqSl9pt7WdX9ZFbgIeYpfHyY/s1600/article+pg+3.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7P36sCaFupCFssGObWP6cWhjoL8v2_F2cUtxMdzHivP1A4GRc2rwgL7fgjHA6pTWN2Q2oxOzorIE3xWsq7_kQcOclQSJ-3QAeyHxb-H3f1ODXjtqyLj7fqSl9pt7WdX9ZFbgIeYpfHyY/s400/article+pg+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569993790384301842" border="0" /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-62832700125089960842011-01-04T14:08:00.000-08:002011-02-05T10:04:58.273-08:00AGG in NEWSWEEK!Around Christmas, a charming gent interviewed me for journalistic purposes, and lo and behold as the New Year arrived I found that Newsweek International published a feature, "New Galleries Heat Up Art Market", featuring Asya Geisberg Gallery, the ladies originally from Deitch currently involved in the Hole, and a new space called fordProject, all new NYC spaces.<br /><br />Excerpt below, click on link to read full article. And whether you are traveling through Istanbul, Irkutsk, or Ougadougou, pick up the print issue!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.newsweek.com/2011/01/02/new-galleries-heat-up-new-york-s-art-market.print.html"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 131px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX2bDzHhpxm3gM-oKEZNrEEIY_6zAH_fbQqlZn20epGVpw8pZ5wtxF86Y7qdPqlSvZbsADL-UXYzoSdt6V65uTUaQpSrTFLBq57nrucAg98PhdT4e7l8L26nHp2h3fYLOZ1KudtkyGpQ/s320/Newsweek+logo+and+title.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558456469762257570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><br />By Sameer Reddy, January 2, 2011</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >...Several significant new gallery spaces have begun to open their doors in Manhattan. And with the freedom that comes from reinventing the system, they are pursuing unconventional curatorial programs and, in some cases, setting up shop in unexpected places.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >...The shift encouraged <span style="font-weight: bold;">Asya Geisberg</span> to open her own eponymous ground-floor gallery on West 23rd Street, in a space formerly occupied by Goff + Rosenthal. Four of the five artists on Geisberg's evolving roster happen to be women, and she's conscious of the role she can fulfill in creating a more level playing field. "It's not something that I consider an overt mission, but I'm very happy that by definition there are more women artists out there that people can see and buy," she says. "[Women's artwork] doesn't need to be more interesting than [men's], but why shouldn't it be valued as much? I'd like to do whatever I can to eliminate any kind of bias that might be latent, but still exists." Geisberg is also trying to inaugurate a series of artist talks-the kind of opportunity typically available only to insiders who arrange for a studio visit.</span><br /><a href="http://www.newsweek.com/2011/01/02/new-galleries-heat-up-new-york-s-art-market.print.html"><br />Click here to read the full article.</a><br /><br /></span>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-83183762659338129282010-11-17T13:58:00.001-08:002011-02-05T10:05:20.716-08:00"Girls Just Want to Have Funds"<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rema Hort Mann Foundation panel at PPOW Gallery.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKORounhPN2buPrW07JCaGVg8sDlEsWiSvW93pQ9jFAbF-QIlfqzk6wfzZCIuac7cO2iZCXzfyp8abWNedsDmobeksol2iVtYV_lXoobxCh7f410Um6hcab49nlLS8lTOf9cdRS9zONc/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-11-18+at+4.35.50+PM.png"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTKORounhPN2buPrW07JCaGVg8sDlEsWiSvW93pQ9jFAbF-QIlfqzk6wfzZCIuac7cO2iZCXzfyp8abWNedsDmobeksol2iVtYV_lXoobxCh7f410Um6hcab49nlLS8lTOf9cdRS9zONc/s320/Screen+shot+2010-11-18+at+4.35.50+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541007025240276706" border="0" /></a>On Tuesday night, the Rema Hort Mann Foundation sponsored a fantastic panel on the not very Cyndi-Lauperian topic of why women artists fail to achieve anywhere near the prices that men do, especially at the upper echelons of the market. To standing-room only crowds, the dedicated director of the Foundation, himself markedly not a woman artist, explained the need for the focus on women artists, and promised to have a similar panel in exactly a year to see where things stood. Indeed, the evening was full of numbers and near-scientific figures, a way to measure and gauge success over time. The moderator, the enlightening and clear-voiced <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sarah Douglas</span>, introduced the discussion with statistics that clarified that through all strata of the artist's career arc, men out-earned women, and were disproportionately represented in galleries. She noted that at the height of the market, in 2007, of the top 100 earning artists, only 4 were women, and the highest price for an American woman was $7 million for Joan Mitchell. And while 50% of all MFA students were women, even those galleries that showed emerging artists were already more focused on men in their roster.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Marilyn Minter, "Parted", 2010, 30" x 24", enamel on metal, $35,000.</span> </div><a style="font-style: italic;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacDKDr4HR73rwh1a0WWwVpwuybftgjKSm_DjPybb7OyQhf08lD53TnMV4KC3j1z2SPnpk6PAUaZ9Od5fPZMWxJz-EfRGQ3kklE9Jhb7GfsY72u3dbjvXr6HbFBBYPDaW94QEzoKlkabo/s1600/Marilyn-Minter.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacDKDr4HR73rwh1a0WWwVpwuybftgjKSm_DjPybb7OyQhf08lD53TnMV4KC3j1z2SPnpk6PAUaZ9Od5fPZMWxJz-EfRGQ3kklE9Jhb7GfsY72u3dbjvXr6HbFBBYPDaW94QEzoKlkabo/s320/Marilyn-Minter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541013021810447890" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Indeed, Douglas said that several dealers complained that they were hard pressed to find the talent among women, which of course the mostly-female audience booed under their breaths. A more likely excuse was suggested by the younger artist on the panel, 20-something <span style="font-weight: bold;">Xaviera Simmons</span>, who said that women needed confidence, and a business-like approach, in order to succeed. When Sculpture Center Director <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mary Ceruti</span> was asked by trustees why her shows were mostly of women, she had to explain that the opposite was true: so many men who were talented already had weighty exhibition histories, while mature talented women were left out, and ripe for a non-profit museum. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Amy Capellazzo</span>, the head of Contemporary Art at Christie's, had the most "go-get-'em" approach of all: what women were missing was a sense of entitlement that men seemed to automatically have. If women just believe that they deserved more money, higher salaries, bigger studios with assembly line production, more critical acclaim and approval, then they too could break the $1 million dollar auction price barrier, and be a more saleable brand. Her advice had some resonance, as in her example of the change in women's attitudes over the past 30 years concerning their sexuality, and certainly it was refreshing to hear voices of encouragement and not empathetic coddling of the "woe-is-me" variety. Capellazzo even ended the evening with a reiteration of her call to arms: if you decide you want economic parity, you can achieve it, she coached the crowd. Still, to some of the audience, certain questions remained - for instance, the fact that some of the discrimination and insistence on male supremacy came from women in power. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Marilyn Minter</span>, a raucous addition to the roster, and an artist whose rise in economic power has been well-documented, mentioned that even a woman collector had questioned whether her prices were prudent, while dealer Tony Shafrazi claimed only men earned "that kind of money".<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Amy Capellazzo, Head of Contemporary Art, Christie's.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95RtD0MSS8cNUrwGyg_UHaHkAhhdDZIAf3ejgEhQRzR5ZvMCs6GHnUsTZkLMGHON35HOy_wG6xqcojF09Y5UdShm5q_od0mWLRxfIqKLvymtDub9NKcEhRO_gFuXWvpSfUXZwuFQQZeQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-11-18+at+4.48.51+PM.png"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh95RtD0MSS8cNUrwGyg_UHaHkAhhdDZIAf3ejgEhQRzR5ZvMCs6GHnUsTZkLMGHON35HOy_wG6xqcojF09Y5UdShm5q_od0mWLRxfIqKLvymtDub9NKcEhRO_gFuXWvpSfUXZwuFQQZeQ/s320/Screen+shot+2010-11-18+at+4.48.51+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541010239782272722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In fact, Minter was a good case study in success: her tenacity- creating art even when it was unpopular and not as rewarded -- won her a long wait-list of collectors, and the enviable position of having a studio with 6 assistants. Yet even she portrayed some traits that were a perfect example of why differences still remain, and why the path to success is perhaps slower (if not fully erased) for women: while Jeff Koons, Murakami, and Damien Hirst were well-known for having huge factories of assistants and therefore were able to earn disproportionately massive amounts of money, Minter had to be persuaded to increase her studio to 10 people, and she needed to know them personally, so that she could have a mentoring role. On the other hand, she spoke honestly and humorously about how hungry she was to get higher in the earnings department, and do her personal best to achieve parity with men.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlrY1jKY03GQ62-6jvwnO0Z8k3N32Iws2zZWDRkJpd8Q5mGrgcUlLMbJD8cBT3WAYkwUK4ZMhn9P6pQc51hlhEBsD_NYfpN5fIyUtwsoduhDBb6EluZwjM9XtSLJksjRmzN5eS1tqOXQ/s1600/OB-DZ541_toppic_DV_20090702192213.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJlrY1jKY03GQ62-6jvwnO0Z8k3N32Iws2zZWDRkJpd8Q5mGrgcUlLMbJD8cBT3WAYkwUK4ZMhn9P6pQc51hlhEBsD_NYfpN5fIyUtwsoduhDBb6EluZwjM9XtSLJksjRmzN5eS1tqOXQ/s320/OB-DZ541_toppic_DV_20090702192213.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541014658314187442" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Suzanne Valadon, Self Portrait, 1927.</span><br /><br />While the audience clapped most heartily when it was cruelly lured into thinking Cyndi Lauper herself had shown up to perform the titular song of the evening, the end of the panel's discussion beckoned the audience members to stay and dish about the topic of the night. Was pregnancy and motherhood adequately addressed? If Capellazzo claimed that biology wasn't destiny, then what else could women count on as definitive markers of lesser value? Prejudices that exist about the very nature of art made by women and men were not touched upon, and perhaps those very powerful ideas, found in both men and women, are the real reason behind the lack of financial potency in women's careers. I recalled the thesis I wrote on an artist of the turn of the century, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Suzanne Valadon</span>, and how her art was interpreted by critics and peers as uniformly "male", and not very saleable. Yet her son, Maurice Utrillo, with his run-of-the-mill paintings copied from postcards, went on to become a much higher earner, and today is a far more marketable name. Of course most women on the panel shared anecdotes about how times had changed from even 20-30 years ago. Let's hope that looking forward will define both progress in actual earning power and the underlying attitudes behind lesser representation.Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-31527637611495158672010-09-30T12:05:00.001-07:002010-10-02T12:06:41.440-07:00Opening Pix of Asya Geisberg Gallery<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXLLMVLYnQbcBp7sKt4QwfcfD_zjpIk3hAggXaIn7Ff9xBkkWxOwyL5uZCsEvIpoFlmcvP3PWBDjKquN2LuUpHptz-xX92vrPBTYS57jdyAqb4RD86uCmu2aAWWBB-FftBSt-P16j8-w/s1600/DSC03064.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXLLMVLYnQbcBp7sKt4QwfcfD_zjpIk3hAggXaIn7Ff9xBkkWxOwyL5uZCsEvIpoFlmcvP3PWBDjKquN2LuUpHptz-xX92vrPBTYS57jdyAqb4RD86uCmu2aAWWBB-FftBSt-P16j8-w/s320/DSC03064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522784937038596482" border="0" /></a>"Angelina Gualdoni: Shadows Slipping" opened last week, and I have finally sat down long enough to post some opening night pix.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBAf_i21sud5ChX4DUHZZf0fFUITQPPhf-hA-AD2cdJpgB5YMhShFpPQchw6ynTB1Z_yT4UvNBCjjweSuYwJN1mVZwjx_CJR7V_JfJV3I8PLJe6V5Fa4oCa_LyMc-ahWXA2lXGbyTFrE/s1600/DSC03072.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBAf_i21sud5ChX4DUHZZf0fFUITQPPhf-hA-AD2cdJpgB5YMhShFpPQchw6ynTB1Z_yT4UvNBCjjweSuYwJN1mVZwjx_CJR7V_JfJV3I8PLJe6V5Fa4oCa_LyMc-ahWXA2lXGbyTFrE/s320/DSC03072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523483049677231362" border="0" /></a>The images below were photographed by an assembly of "Asya Says" devotees, as Asya herself was distracted by "Saying" plenty in person. <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: View onto 23rd street.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: The calm before the storm!</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5pD5PIZ8gj1im1iwlu885Pox4-Rq79nBKJv-eNzzMvoTj-vrZcQeExiT6VuE7zYdlrk9nJxsantPzJ-aTjEMa3OYAnlqfANEf0M7dYLP1LlLcQKBtPQiqBV7F2fqdiK0Ycm0XjLXniU/s1600/DSC03101.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5pD5PIZ8gj1im1iwlu885Pox4-Rq79nBKJv-eNzzMvoTj-vrZcQeExiT6VuE7zYdlrk9nJxsantPzJ-aTjEMa3OYAnlqfANEf0M7dYLP1LlLcQKBtPQiqBV7F2fqdiK0Ycm0XjLXniU/s320/DSC03101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523497267367159522" border="0" /></a>Warm weather and a smashing reception made for a great opening, followed by a lovely after-party or two.<br /><br />I am so grateful for everyone's support and warm wishes!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgjsi0s_CviLS_nhTt65dXufNMjz-BE10snlHDs1biYtYI-TTmtJ-nSojc0n0IwbhKTY8IT7dsjacMpA4LP2jmSjxVb_yUmvwBS-vzCtv4EMZsSCh2mXAKhGgcDGWl-rvs5lnb3-0dLg/s1600/IMG_1160.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgjsi0s_CviLS_nhTt65dXufNMjz-BE10snlHDs1biYtYI-TTmtJ-nSojc0n0IwbhKTY8IT7dsjacMpA4LP2jmSjxVb_yUmvwBS-vzCtv4EMZsSCh2mXAKhGgcDGWl-rvs5lnb3-0dLg/s320/IMG_1160.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523489246286750146" border="0" /></a>And if I didn't have the opportunity to speak with you, my apologies...it was quite the turnout!<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCsJzkF_Ga8kGk2iGxJ63lxD978mO2op0JLAAzzR-3QMiISCOJsgQlmQn2J1Sn4ri9QQ_fXRsHMa7RGu2Wa4a3gU9jM2Xd2UFwAp914iwXJn6ae5h7KgilP40SdH0wwK6S7YMij1Uw9o/s1600/DSC03065.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCsJzkF_Ga8kGk2iGxJ63lxD978mO2op0JLAAzzR-3QMiISCOJsgQlmQn2J1Sn4ri9QQ_fXRsHMa7RGu2Wa4a3gU9jM2Xd2UFwAp914iwXJn6ae5h7KgilP40SdH0wwK6S7YMij1Uw9o/s320/DSC03065.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523490714367062562" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Michele, Asya, and Diana.</span> <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVS_RBmO4rdVnU7OaBhhUpePxTmsEPz_-H3hqh4U6DprL8oDznBns7T3VTjvpyRCKeYsepMFNiNm97vvoySbySIlA4U6MKn2pIQf3I_CJZO1N34d-poCeRt5pRnwgIgmq3i36SNWhtuk/s1600/DSC03074.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVS_RBmO4rdVnU7OaBhhUpePxTmsEPz_-H3hqh4U6DprL8oDznBns7T3VTjvpyRCKeYsepMFNiNm97vvoySbySIlA4U6MKn2pIQf3I_CJZO1N34d-poCeRt5pRnwgIgmq3i36SNWhtuk/s320/DSC03074.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523498135895865154" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Pre-opening preparations...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Angelina Gualdoni.</span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8C7eoA01-uz_3kvsFqanfshou3Yk5m47AoGEDcIQnU-DZQJpLROsJOgIBkgWgtuCGOq3T0sI1aTZwaqjxsSlpnx1ziSfA2oaActNjvwyGJOkKf9giT1y5G2NXzGJZW1_Fz_giXbhU9MA/s1600/DSC03087.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8C7eoA01-uz_3kvsFqanfshou3Yk5m47AoGEDcIQnU-DZQJpLROsJOgIBkgWgtuCGOq3T0sI1aTZwaqjxsSlpnx1ziSfA2oaActNjvwyGJOkKf9giT1y5G2NXzGJZW1_Fz_giXbhU9MA/s320/DSC03087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523498775976791058" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Jerry Saltz perusing "Porosity".</span><br /><br /><br />I had to include at least one obligatory shoe/fashion shot, photographed on my behalf, so that the ethos of "Asya Says" endures.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAI40TDpkcEnyJCdIoBC3B8lvdse4ZxpmCXOiAhv5C-ugqDW9lWvSvlnO6v0FQHY2bkz_DWvliYFJ8pEvbf2qiJ0SEkm5q0q8F2CCw-b9SqrwegXTl924uRQsiP4BY0kh0tN1XU-2NrKI/s1600/DSC03118.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAI40TDpkcEnyJCdIoBC3B8lvdse4ZxpmCXOiAhv5C-ugqDW9lWvSvlnO6v0FQHY2bkz_DWvliYFJ8pEvbf2qiJ0SEkm5q0q8F2CCw-b9SqrwegXTl924uRQsiP4BY0kh0tN1XU-2NrKI/s320/DSC03118.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523499080075641746" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAI40TDpkcEnyJCdIoBC3B8lvdse4ZxpmCXOiAhv5C-ugqDW9lWvSvlnO6v0FQHY2bkz_DWvliYFJ8pEvbf2qiJ0SEkm5q0q8F2CCw-b9SqrwegXTl924uRQsiP4BY0kh0tN1XU-2NrKI/s1600/DSC03118.JPG"><br /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-52956292142217121662010-09-16T08:02:00.000-07:002010-09-16T09:21:50.546-07:00Introducing Asya Geisberg Gallery!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5E5G12JWZD97AImwgdOVEJwhBjp3HWyuPvXVf1mW7SaR8jUucSsiNwaSLvP7hQwJHwbV6iS9vN1R42t31fk-gtQ4d5PX0CezF6O07oSScBYERkimLei9gn5sN5MhWbMhpwNdT2d3Tj5U/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 83px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5E5G12JWZD97AImwgdOVEJwhBjp3HWyuPvXVf1mW7SaR8jUucSsiNwaSLvP7hQwJHwbV6iS9vN1R42t31fk-gtQ4d5PX0CezF6O07oSScBYERkimLei9gn5sN5MhWbMhpwNdT2d3Tj5U/s400/5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517545043100788738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJmYGINgIazUBYQJ5202_8RhkeJRnBmaxvRe3-76b7jw8Ty-NnfVmKskChjo3wdwD96Ip0UFjL8PEW45YdNXtJ2QL6eojb-BarLTl1E9WyQw1D8oVGzeodMwwJT_h-iOFVdGyk2ocuMU/s1600/5.jpg"><br /></a><br />New Gallery Opening in Chelsea --- Asya Geisberg Gallery<br /><br /><br />537B West 23rd Street New York<br />Inaugural Reception September 23rd from 6-8pm<br />Angelina Gualdoni: <span style="font-style: italic;">Shadows Slipping</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ASYA GEISBERG </span>will open her new gallery on West 23rd Street in Chelsea on the ground floor of the Tate Building, joining Leo Koenig, Daniel Reich, Perry Rubenstein, Margaret Thatcher Projects and Pavel Zoubok.<br /><br />Ms. Geisberg will present a conceptually focused program of young international artists working in all media. The inaugural exhibition will showcase new paintings by New York artist Angelina Gualdoni. Future exhibitions will include Israeli artist Melanie Daniel, winner of the 2009 Rappaport Prize for Young Israeli Painters, and British artist Annie Attridge, whose most recent work was featured in "Grand National-Art from Britain", Vestfossen, Norway.<br /><br />Asya Geisberg brings her talents as a curator, writer and artist to her new gallery. She has worked with many artists, most recently in "Freedom's Discontents: Resistance, Subversion, and Survival" at Visual Voice Gallery in Montreal. Her coverage of art fairs and international exhibitions can be found at ArtBistro.com, as well as, on her blog "Asya Says" AsyaSays.blogspot.com.<br /><br />Born in St. Petersburg, Russia, Ms. Geisberg has lived in the US since 1977. She studied literature and history at Wesleyan and received an MFA from the School of Visual Arts.<br /><br />Ms. Geisberg looks forward to being part of the Chelsea neighborhood adding a challenging new group of international artists to this rich arts environment.<br /><br />Asya Geisberg Gallery | 537B West 23rd Street | New York, NY 10011 | +212 675 7525 | info@asyageisberggallery.com www.asyageisberggallery.comAsya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-28384339952329430792010-08-22T15:01:00.000-07:002010-08-22T15:03:32.845-07:00Freedom Week Art Auction--Please donate!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; "><div class="im" style="color: rgb(80, 0, 80); ">The last week of September is Freedom Week, to bring attention to human trafficking, and we are organizing an art auction benefit. It's an under-reported cause, and one that I think deserves all the attention it can get. The benefit will be held on September 30, at Tele Design Studio, an event space in the Meatpacking District. It is sure to get press coverage, and will be the culmination of a week of events.<br /><br />Please donate a work of art. The info on the project is below. If you are interested or have any questions about donation, please email:<a href="mailto:freedomweekbenefit@gmail.com" target="_blank" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 204); ">freedomweekbenefit@gmail.com</a>.<br /><br />Thanks!<br /><br />Asya Geisberg, curator<br />Freedom Week Art Auction<br /> <wbr> ------------------------------<wbr>-----------<br /><br />We are pleased to invite you to participate in New York City’s second-annual Freedom Week, September 25-October 2, 2010. Freedom Week is a citywide campaign to raise awareness about human trafficking and contemporary slavery, which is now the third-largest criminal industry in the world. According to the U.S. State Dept., at least 12.3 million people are trafficked and enslaved around the world, and that number is growing fast. Human trafficking is expected to soon surpass drug trafficking in scope and profit because it is a shadow industry that works under the radar. Most people do not know that it exists, let alone that New York City is one of the major portals for trafficking within the USA; this includes U.S citizens, especially children.<br /><br />Our goal is to open people's eyes to this horrific industry and inspire the public to take action. As such, we are hosting an art auction to both raise awareness and funds to fight trafficking. Proceeds from the auction will go to organizations dedicated to eradicating human trafficking and providing after-care to victims who have been rescued.<br /><br />We would love to have you add your voice to those who are raising awareness by generously donating a piece of artwork to the auction. If you have any questions about Freedom Week, please feel free to contact me at <a href="mailto:annlien@gmail.com" target="_blank" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 204); "><span>annlien@gmail.com</span></a>. Our website is below if you'd like to see a summary of last year's events, where we were able to feature such luminaries as Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist Nicholas Kristof from the NY Times and the U.S. State Department's Ambassador Lou de Baca.<br /><br />We hope you will join us in the fight against modern slavery and human trafficking.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br /></div><span style="color:#888888;"><div class="im" style="color: rgb(80, 0, 80); "><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">Ann Lien</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">Director, Freedom Week</span><br /></div><a href="http://freedomweeknyc.com/" target="_blank" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 204); ">http://freedomweeknyc.com/</a></span></span>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-85601326270608901032010-08-22T14:34:00.000-07:002010-08-29T17:32:11.355-07:00Freedom Week Art Auction: Submission Guidelines<div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I am pleased to be curating this year's art auction benefiting <span style="font-weight: bold;">Freedom Week</span>.</span></div><div style="font-family:times new roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;font-size:100%;" ><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">The auction will be held at the Tele Design e<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>vent space on Thursday, September 30th, from 6 - 9. For information on Freedom Week, please read .</p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">SUBMISSION REQUIREMENTS:<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Works can be in any medium, framed or unframed, <strong>maximum 36" in any direction including frame, and must be able to be installed on the wall.</strong> If you have a framed work, please supply wire Sculptors may include a small shelf for display. We recommend a minimum bid below $1,000. <br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Please prepare a 150KB jpeg, and the following information for the checklist.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Please email AND include with your artwork: </p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Name, address, phone, email, and website of artist.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Title, year, medium, edition number if any.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Estimated Value, and Minimum Bid (we recommend one third to one half of the estimated value).<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Selected artworks must be delivered on September 29 and 30, we cannot inconvenience our host with individual deliveries or storage of artwork. Selected artworks are donations and all proceeds from their sales support the work of several important organizations working on human trafficking, including History Starts Now. Included artists are welcome to attend the event for free. Tickets to the benefit are $25. </p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Drop-off: September 29 and 30, at location to be announced.</p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Pick-up of unsold artwork: September 30 and October 1.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Questions or concerns should be directed to freedomweekbenefit@gmail.com.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 1em;">Thank you for your interest and support of Freedom Week.</p></span></div>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-66394841420226943382010-07-16T13:00:00.000-07:002010-07-23T14:04:18.893-07:00Riding on the Back of a Pig into a Pool of Mud<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtq241hN9SGbzq54q-1mHTR5OeBx2pRoDBikybN1VI64N-GxcnW1CNgkmbNCbl8fF42SfAoJYZkMCpB1Jsfy5rVkoZR0bVIwEQyRjibTMMllEGpKkI6shlrcVOlkzprcXWmCLd7nYLzU/s1600/DSC02477.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489031322984562434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtq241hN9SGbzq54q-1mHTR5OeBx2pRoDBikybN1VI64N-GxcnW1CNgkmbNCbl8fF42SfAoJYZkMCpB1Jsfy5rVkoZR0bVIwEQyRjibTMMllEGpKkI6shlrcVOlkzprcXWmCLd7nYLzU/s320/DSC02477.JPG" /></a><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">"Defrosted: a life of Walt Disney" opens June 29 at Postmasters</span><br /><br />A few days before the start of the New York art world's summer lull, Postmasters opened a stellar group exhibition forcing vacationers awake. A conceptually taut revisionist riff on the life of Walt Disney, the show is organized by <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Adam Cvijanovic </span>and <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">David Humphrey</span>, and features 14 additional artists. Summer in the city beckons most galleries to throw group shows, but this one, planned for 2 years, has thrown down the gauntlet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3XX0lknDj93mXUK2c2HSZvmni37l3HXYFf4Zp6-d3zOmPpfDp-gWYbIzwOuCbfXYmn9BHndIJfoW4oTcsAavavNCtMkA6Zinhzf1zVlH5hyPPOnc7Naj4BPWlvlmKnAjJYNimhXlOV8/s1600/DSC02474.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489032814946000370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3XX0lknDj93mXUK2c2HSZvmni37l3HXYFf4Zp6-d3zOmPpfDp-gWYbIzwOuCbfXYmn9BHndIJfoW4oTcsAavavNCtMkA6Zinhzf1zVlH5hyPPOnc7Naj4BPWlvlmKnAjJYNimhXlOV8/s320/DSC02474.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Right: <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">David Humphrey</span> and featured artist <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Inka Essenhigh</span>.</span><br /></div><br />The entire main gallery is covered with a wall painting by Cvijanovic, with figurative parts painted by Humphrey, and additional canvases by Humphrey playfully hung throughout. By the entrance of the gallery, a timeline of Disney's life creates a comical leitmotif that throws the otherwise fantastical show into sharp relief, the kind of truth that our current reality-TV modernity finds prickly and illusive at best. Related works by artists both known and Ebay-anonymous hang on a scaffold recreating Magic Mountain, itself based on the Matterhorn.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YiJaGpDmHhLYKMEjZ3NnV9S4hoZxvq83lu2Ks3sq4lAOkmZo5_GDXQTYzunykgZal8P_WKUNn6Nom7jmttfT0sl6COJ6cY-b1PTsI2pWlrZaN24ibg5KNapJDnGi_-zYlSUAo2kHN2A/s1600/DSC02485.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489034050117369858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YiJaGpDmHhLYKMEjZ3NnV9S4hoZxvq83lu2Ks3sq4lAOkmZo5_GDXQTYzunykgZal8P_WKUNn6Nom7jmttfT0sl6COJ6cY-b1PTsI2pWlrZaN24ibg5KNapJDnGi_-zYlSUAo2kHN2A/s200/DSC02485.jpg" /></a><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Left: artist <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Nika Sarabi</span>.</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2rJpyS204z_9h5SKcmYjuyadHe6GmvzWF33lDtb9dCCU3_f9A2hanohJrw76atWqvvfG5W3ixYR111hFHeQHvj8Vf4AVz0C9qiwpY6EpM8g27T94_EC4IFNxtmKOCuIOHg1bi12vVUA/s1600/DSC02475.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489033692499338114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw2rJpyS204z_9h5SKcmYjuyadHe6GmvzWF33lDtb9dCCU3_f9A2hanohJrw76atWqvvfG5W3ixYR111hFHeQHvj8Vf4AVz0C9qiwpY6EpM8g27T94_EC4IFNxtmKOCuIOHg1bi12vVUA/s320/DSC02475.JPG" /></a><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Right: detail of Nika Sarabi's work.</span><br /></div><br />The crowded opening emphasized the room-filling expanse lushly imagined by Cvijanovic. An artist who makes painting seem as easy as brushing one's teeth, Cvijanovic continues to push his style into a modern reinvention of history painting. Humphrey's cartoony tendencies are also a perfect fit for this thematic exhibition. In cohesive yet distinctive styles, both artists re-imagine a workshop ideal, even asking Nika Sarabi, an artist familiar with graffiti, to add detail to an abandonned spaceship from Disneyworld's Tomorrowland.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHv8OgYAhVKI0WVPCa2vg-21x8llHBW2RES_hg-bfyglvEpg05GFav8hqmcJLuGTwR4yAiCd7rrPRAO03AefU4NA4GVlRXJ7tqru0YN6eu4Y40-RfFRcRJExeRPTcxqhzemyrCO7yb3vk/s1600/DSC02481.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489033220610073922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHv8OgYAhVKI0WVPCa2vg-21x8llHBW2RES_hg-bfyglvEpg05GFav8hqmcJLuGTwR4yAiCd7rrPRAO03AefU4NA4GVlRXJ7tqru0YN6eu4Y40-RfFRcRJExeRPTcxqhzemyrCO7yb3vk/s320/DSC02481.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Left: "Addio", Eva and Franco Mattes, aka 0100101110101101.org</span>, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">hung on pedestal.</span><br /><br />In the back room, several works were supposed to represent Walt Disney's crypt, and indeed it was a quiet somber room, with a video and giant Mickey sculpture. A truly ambitious undertaking, the entire exhibition concerned itself not just with the reinvention of biography and the collaborative process, but also the physical challenge of having imagery taking over the room. The exhibit placed the viewer in a warped Einsteinian time/space dimension, which particularly was pronounced during the packed opening. And yet as viewers looked up at the walls, they were brought back into the objecthood and subjectivity of each individual artist placing their work on the pedestal cum Matterhorn. A heady and yet perfectly summer-themed exhibit indeed--catch it before it closes on August 6!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINmIQZR_oacnY5asgUil3CoaURyhyB_7Ia3suMwYoyCUA7fusaxJmQW7h3CxhDOHzytPCXmt4v_SHFxfK4cyI_PM6mo94C0ASk_Qurh0uN7yoAreM09TzDdS8vVnjJD3rMZeojPazwO0/s1600/DSC02478.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489035164415348466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiINmIQZR_oacnY5asgUil3CoaURyhyB_7Ia3suMwYoyCUA7fusaxJmQW7h3CxhDOHzytPCXmt4v_SHFxfK4cyI_PM6mo94C0ASk_Qurh0uN7yoAreM09TzDdS8vVnjJD3rMZeojPazwO0/s320/DSC02478.JPG" /></a><br /><em>Left: Paula Wilson, "After All", mixed media on wood, on pedestal.<br /></em><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6M6s4kBO9H3iSJaDVDFk218D9xv35GCbNQgOxdFb60YgTOlgyrOkRZS_SEUNP-kV0aSx80Vl5HPK6JlHE65OnR2U7w8vMSl3hUQbJzSzkyjPssVvrzhYXoO5rj78zuwugRKdO0H8EseI/s1600/DSC02483.JPG"></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-25793625808807901612010-07-06T12:36:00.000-07:002010-07-30T12:49:25.961-07:00Freedom Sparks in Montreal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_-3kwROetdJVzyR8x2kHIv3-JvP1VhbXniglg4DO5N-eYdfHXcmB6y7QpmURV-q8bPxJF1R6v9zer5s00a0ilP06gBaiZ-B9QXW2uK3VK78MgyFpUC7hHJ4vSITjGWkS6C_FGam__BQ/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-07-30+at+3.40.49+PM.png"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7_-3kwROetdJVzyR8x2kHIv3-JvP1VhbXniglg4DO5N-eYdfHXcmB6y7QpmURV-q8bPxJF1R6v9zer5s00a0ilP06gBaiZ-B9QXW2uK3VK78MgyFpUC7hHJ4vSITjGWkS6C_FGam__BQ/s400/Screen+shot+2010-07-30+at+3.40.49+PM.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499787088356731826" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Freedom's Discontents: Resistance, Subversion, and Survival</span>"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDSI18lzcUHfDPjEepTnxxA2m-Ebb-Jfv9_FMYSlcjFrqkqLyxmNNRZptXN5JcL_ZmdaSmtO7e-9eivOKOCGL3tZGFYkA97n1oS6TZgLjW_N7Ds0UquM0Q126PAj8eCEgv7e2lf3IMRSg/s1600/Screen+shot+2010-07-30+at+3.40.49+PM.png"><br /></a>A triumverate of curators--Irys Schenker, myself and gallery director Bettina Forget put together a video exhibition at Montreal's Visual Voice Gallery. The show is up only through July 17, but viewable online at <a href="http://www.visualvoicegallery.com/artists%202010/VVG-artist-13-FreeSparks-F.html">Visual Voice Gallery</a>. My selections and essay (reprinted below) are viewable at <a href="http://www.lightcubevideo.com/curator/asya-geisberg">LightCube Video.<br /></a><br /><br />The response to the Freedom Sparks open call for videos has been overwhelming, and has garnered submissions from all over the world. This is indeed the beauty behind a show such as this: curators from New York have looked at videos from Brussels, Japan, and Arizona, among others, and the works will be viewed in a gallery in Montreal. This process has informed the interpretation of the concept of freedom, and provided a range of reactions - personal, national, or abstracted, and with these examples we can glimpse the expanse of our world.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Biying Zhang </span>abstracts black and white footage of the Pan Asian Games in China with abrasive editing and sound, into a reflection on the calamity and destruction behind the facade of governmental control. In a place where freedom has a nuanced history, a propaganda machine aims to portray a happy and modernized China, which the artist counteracts with his pointed video.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Elise Rasmussen</span> similarly delves into local history: the disappearance of native culture in Newfoundland. Her poignant, meditative approach, combined with bilateral framing, gives a nuanced viscerally-felt evocation of place. In a free society, without overt warfare or pursuit of genocide, an ethnic group nonetheless slowly is eradicated. What can freedom mean when a groups survival itself is so tenuous?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tobias Rosenberger</span> investigates another disappearance: of landscape and its inhabitants, an erasure brought about by the results of commercial freedom. A development, the height of material choice, brings about a sudden death, and Rosenberger shows us the end result of deadening conformity.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Daniel Stitts</span> provides a personal and hauntingly beautiful nugget of personal and sexual freedom. Motifs of hiding, disappearance, and even the use of recorded voice all create layers of obstruction to personal liberty. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Simone Patterson</span>'s fun brightly-colored piece subverts her underlying themes of feminity submerged in domesticity, vanity, and modern womens forced juggling of roles. And finally, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Robby Rackleff</span>'s humorous lecture, toying with the ease of home-made video fakery, posits freedom as something that each generation fears and resents.Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-64111377536091216942010-07-01T12:37:00.001-07:002010-07-11T11:04:55.951-07:00Cuchifritos: bootie-licious<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IjipxBOP5r5uCJgD5sRPkbSVxQRAlXLCP_7dIuu2funjs9h3EvRXUztHxezL4xq-QWgLjoI8UQyXlO9t2Zq13VFUpu13sbWojouiYoqUKQmcvhc1xMgphyV0ma38BKMNEFPwFRxfPSs/s1600/2010-06-25+16.33.38.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IjipxBOP5r5uCJgD5sRPkbSVxQRAlXLCP_7dIuu2funjs9h3EvRXUztHxezL4xq-QWgLjoI8UQyXlO9t2Zq13VFUpu13sbWojouiYoqUKQmcvhc1xMgphyV0ma38BKMNEFPwFRxfPSs/s320/2010-06-25+16.33.38.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489024658971382674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: The entrance of Cuchifritos Gallery, Installation view: "Collected:Working Space 10". Courtesy of the artists and Cuchifritos Gallery/project space. Photo: Scott Taylor</span>.<br /><br />On yet another sweltering NYC day, while gallery-hopping through the Lower East Side, I decided to stop by Essex Market, a wonderful locavore outpost that reinvents a neighborhood paradigm from the turn of the century into a thriving food-based marketplace. Luckily for me, I wandered into the cozy corner space of Cuchifritos Gallery, just as the opening for its new exhibit "Collected:Working Space 10" began.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhL5lpRVGgCuq-4mG7Ck1cYsBH6u09QTF7chyphenhyphenwziGzKJ54mimU235gnbBv1ZGDANLoCgVD4Vqz4xKr15MzaJuRcpR4DUnYAylm2CxH5HkCZwSHVdnDI8HnmcBZAJE1SHfRjkYqjB3qCI/s1600/IMG_1602.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhL5lpRVGgCuq-4mG7Ck1cYsBH6u09QTF7chyphenhyphenwziGzKJ54mimU235gnbBv1ZGDANLoCgVD4Vqz4xKr15MzaJuRcpR4DUnYAylm2CxH5HkCZwSHVdnDI8HnmcBZAJE1SHfRjkYqjB3qCI/s320/IMG_1602.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489026974397414946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Crocheted floor, by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Olek</span>.</span><br /></div><br />Curated by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Erin Riley-Lopez</span>, the exhibit features work of the artists in the Lower East Side Rotating Studio Program, housed nearby. The show managed within a confoundingly small space to be a testament to the high caliber of the artists, as well as the range of conceptual work within. Although the works were in video, painting, sculpture and performance, the idea of mark-making outside the boundaries of conventional drawing was profoundly felt.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsuMzSTLzUttBx1iYpapHCGy7ngY95b05VTHjXuXATniKGEExEf7EDWU1sUQPYoxpJ86JmcyfzOa2gmKi2-CJ4S9Y4fTPHop4GLBwJ-izcsY3xiqboLUqMSyp0KERyBV95tj8twvxL-Y8/s1600/IMG_1607.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsuMzSTLzUttBx1iYpapHCGy7ngY95b05VTHjXuXATniKGEExEf7EDWU1sUQPYoxpJ86JmcyfzOa2gmKi2-CJ4S9Y4fTPHop4GLBwJ-izcsY3xiqboLUqMSyp0KERyBV95tj8twvxL-Y8/s320/IMG_1607.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489026485194353234" border="0" /></a>For instance, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Chris Yormick</span> used Connect Four checkers to create a blunt facial pattern, and <span style="font-weight: bold;">Natsu</span>'s red filament-and-bead web took over a corner of the space. Echoing its organic/cosmic patterning was <span style="font-weight: bold;">Olek</span>'s camouflage-meets-sportswear carpet, which covered the entire floor. The one actual drawing used marks to extend beyond the paper: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Blane de St.Criox</span>'s <span style="font-style: italic;">"Gitmo: abandonned camp x-ray"</span> pushed past political authority by using barbed wire's thwarted beauty as mark to suggest freedom's grand schemes unravelled.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: pile of used booties.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTs1xsWSRqUEeu0soID_Czm1igJpFeI1QayWePe16GjP5v_IlDznRAHGmSB3IFqYj6OihgTwE-hyLiRqCY9_Ap0KHjC3-YGBX29o46gUWQk8iCQa2h8fQze4V-x_3vF3mf600lp_ykjs/s1600/IMG_1603.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTs1xsWSRqUEeu0soID_Czm1igJpFeI1QayWePe16GjP5v_IlDznRAHGmSB3IFqYj6OihgTwE-hyLiRqCY9_Ap0KHjC3-YGBX29o46gUWQk8iCQa2h8fQze4V-x_3vF3mf600lp_ykjs/s320/IMG_1603.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489026021901536386" border="0" /></a><br />The artist Olek sat by the entrance offering slippers to all entrants, pantomiming as her mouth was embroidered shut. Her crocheted carpet effectively thrust mark-making into the three-dimensional realm, and labeled each guest as participant. The gallery was taken over by the mark, and within its womb-like space, a sea of pink and purple, each foot trod carefully on the art, each leg yet another mark, extending upward.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Olek, at right, silently waiting to proffer slippers.</span><br /></div>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-32299116769458775892010-05-22T12:43:00.000-07:002010-06-10T11:21:51.916-07:00"Painting with Pictures": loco con sabor!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAYnnmCpnjeTVDqX_cmrwqdr1qMwtE8koPAiMGpT1F_DPhB_VfnimrlpG8RrNHTgvyWjg664VLgeajX8d2Rot5PMymYHxXhRHE9xAnRTCK_SBIRGcahLKY-QFYVsni0OToecJI1-UCNY/s1600/DSC02292.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBAYnnmCpnjeTVDqX_cmrwqdr1qMwtE8koPAiMGpT1F_DPhB_VfnimrlpG8RrNHTgvyWjg664VLgeajX8d2Rot5PMymYHxXhRHE9xAnRTCK_SBIRGcahLKY-QFYVsni0OToecJI1-UCNY/s320/DSC02292.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474206719129154338" border="0" /></a>I am very excited to announce the show I co-curated with David Gibson and Savannah Spirit, "Painting with Pictures", opened last night at the Casita Maria Center in the Bronx. The show of 32 artists revisits the concept of collage, and will have a follow-up "Part II" in the winter. Casita Maria is a gorgeous building, a few minutes walk from the 2, 5, and 6 trains, and the show is on the top floor, affording lovely views of city rooftops, sunsets, and the elegant stream of ever-present traffic on the Bruckner Expressway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGL5bvLlIOuYqOeGG9eKa2fnhH3L3jgUTja6OhYJupN6tkvjYGiELjS583IY8lOo3sjiV2cB0uQjTObIZU153bGc0-s70P5eMgAJYG-yrDiNTT3sIvZ7hB7yAcUMU2swfTYMrZjTcQjI/s1600/DSC02298.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiGL5bvLlIOuYqOeGG9eKa2fnhH3L3jgUTja6OhYJupN6tkvjYGiELjS583IY8lOo3sjiV2cB0uQjTObIZU153bGc0-s70P5eMgAJYG-yrDiNTT3sIvZ7hB7yAcUMU2swfTYMrZjTcQjI/s320/DSC02298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474207253721748802" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Hector Madera-Gonzalez installation of collage on found posters.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Artists Tim Rollins and Conrad Vogel.</span><br /></div></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw2Nwiakr04bgo4ql5eHjmPzx_-c3CzIdMyFzQM6rnZhrHxGFRelV_BBfwX3-AQy5rdyIelWFe7pUxDWH8_DTGWWR3coPzGorgfmzjTIGakF-CWisxDtYIKM8j8mVS6K0dG40tguMwDg/s1600/DSC02315.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw2Nwiakr04bgo4ql5eHjmPzx_-c3CzIdMyFzQM6rnZhrHxGFRelV_BBfwX3-AQy5rdyIelWFe7pUxDWH8_DTGWWR3coPzGorgfmzjTIGakF-CWisxDtYIKM8j8mVS6K0dG40tguMwDg/s200/DSC02315.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474207951043714146" border="0" /></a>After a lovely opening, the madding crowd assembled at a Mexican restaurant across the street, and supped on deliciosos Camarones a la Mexicana, freshly-chopped guacamole, and endless glasses of "apple juice" (code for beer). I could barely hear anyone as the jukebox regaled us with forlorn ditties in Spanish, and as I stumbled into the wrong door to have a breath of fresh air, I was pleased to be mortified by a posse of 6 decked-out gals, who clearly felt I had stumbled not only into the wrong door but perhaps the wrong neighborhood. I look forward to revisiting the show in the light of day, as the art changes in the daylight, and the neighborhood beckons with fruit vendors, vibrant graffiti, and a street culture that encourages interaction. Casita Maria has been a fixture in the neighborhood for over 74 years, but the building is only 2 years old and looks it, with gleaming floors, brightly colored walls, and kids energized by their exposure to art and culture.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2MH8weZ4ttVeYm6dN8km02enB8LTUg4tttSPKob99ep4e8NJCIyJCndgaHbnhBCEFMuMqHcGTT5bhKsNo0dBe3w8lXGrm742MTqfxz80kGAs9m6G03a572VLbsRckD53mOB7GzrTfgg/s1600/DSC02302.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ2MH8weZ4ttVeYm6dN8km02enB8LTUg4tttSPKob99ep4e8NJCIyJCndgaHbnhBCEFMuMqHcGTT5bhKsNo0dBe3w8lXGrm742MTqfxz80kGAs9m6G03a572VLbsRckD53mOB7GzrTfgg/s320/DSC02302.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474208598237549282" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Director of Development for Casita Maria David Dean adjacent to a matching collage by Amelie Chunleau.</span><br /></div><br />The exhibition continues through July 21, and features works by: Michael Anderson, Melissa Barrett, Chris Bors, Lesly Canossi, Amelie Chunleau, Nancy Drew, Chris Fennell, Carla Gannis, Liam Hanna-Lloyd, Halsey Hathaway, Daniel Kayne Scott, Kiernan, Isolde Kille, Elissa Levy, D. Dominick Lombardi, Hector Madera-Gonzalez, Leah Oates, Sarah Olson, Deborah Pohl, Alexander Reyna, Elizabeth Riley, Ron Rocheleau, Pamela Saturday, Raven Schlossberg, Kaeko Shabana, Jennifer Shepard, Mary Ann Strandell, thefactory101, Austin Thomas, Conrad Vogel, and Michael Zansky.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This exhibition explores the use of collage as an artistic medium, dissecting its impulses and agendas while providing a wide cross-spectrum of its usage in contemporary art. It addresses the role of material culture in mediating our shared view of reality, the notion of a borrowed aesthetic, and how specific visual agendas express differing cultural attitudes. It includes a variety of mediums and aesthetic agendas, presenting not only traditional collage, but works which establish a collage mentality in the liminal forms of photography, video, digital manipulation, painting, sculpture, printmaking, children’s books, commercial signage, portraiture, and others. In the end, it will posit collage as a cause, rather than a symptom, of both artistic style and generational meaning. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYJWkplvX17GNznE7FvR0NR6Uc3NCTc9-hPz6GdaDhPpt1_y9_8RpJbTBwqFBuER7Uu8zNGbzz654YZODrhSZI-PgKOSm2chIIFsCNvQkQevKbBhd4unlPV4QgffkNGAGz-QFgmVLl50/s1600/DSC02316.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYJWkplvX17GNznE7FvR0NR6Uc3NCTc9-hPz6GdaDhPpt1_y9_8RpJbTBwqFBuER7Uu8zNGbzz654YZODrhSZI-PgKOSm2chIIFsCNvQkQevKbBhd4unlPV4QgffkNGAGz-QFgmVLl50/s320/DSC02316.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474209466214288834" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Casita Maria Center for Arts and Education; Casita Gallery, 6th Floor<br />928 Simpson St (Bet Fox/Baretto St & 163rd St)<br /><br />For more information, check out their website: <a href="http://www.casita.us/index.htm">Casita Maria Center</a>.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Savannah Spirit, Lyla Rose, David Dean, and Asya Geisberg.</span><br /></div>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-37299593267794569842010-05-22T12:27:00.000-07:002010-06-10T11:22:57.123-07:00The Last Days of Chez Deitch, Part II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSdno7VAolbkvofixvdZkKFf7eLNrP7xAcqjZhpR8HG9F865JCsfjGtK4Fs7Em3V47xqFZ4IPL799Lq72ItGZSaiHX-PG7rhQ9m2uEZyia2iZM7TGrugAo1J0ElIxGRDmBXI1QB2_T10/s1600/DSC02173.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBSdno7VAolbkvofixvdZkKFf7eLNrP7xAcqjZhpR8HG9F865JCsfjGtK4Fs7Em3V47xqFZ4IPL799Lq72ItGZSaiHX-PG7rhQ9m2uEZyia2iZM7TGrugAo1J0ElIxGRDmBXI1QB2_T10/s320/DSC02173.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474223046417818146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Line of people waiting to get into Deitch Projects, at</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">opening night, Shephard Fairey, May 1, 2010.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67PUPYZLwDmcMRqDJFlBs3oA_dcsYHFjKQUpXdm3mRE43tK2ZoxoB0WMZCflbdKNCZ1QGXeoZ-tsXBw6gfQjei0jw4210YOPIgiToezDF4m4_mFQ6sUOwHVkfXBBfOZFqh6yBM-pOC8s/s1600/DSC02170.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh67PUPYZLwDmcMRqDJFlBs3oA_dcsYHFjKQUpXdm3mRE43tK2ZoxoB0WMZCflbdKNCZ1QGXeoZ-tsXBw6gfQjei0jw4210YOPIgiToezDF4m4_mFQ6sUOwHVkfXBBfOZFqh6yBM-pOC8s/s320/DSC02170.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474222151162921042" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8v4EGoll3Irb7Qkpj6HinRQ37TjHdPm_GEJWwY_x1LBsY9S2itPNOuPmhSmd4p11bGBzYmcsfGmP3S2iB2iZagKiBCxegQqo4k3RWCTcXdI4i9VQSKp44YQEjQLip_DC5BGFkurJ6MiY/s1600/DSC02171.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8v4EGoll3Irb7Qkpj6HinRQ37TjHdPm_GEJWwY_x1LBsY9S2itPNOuPmhSmd4p11bGBzYmcsfGmP3S2iB2iZagKiBCxegQqo4k3RWCTcXdI4i9VQSKp44YQEjQLip_DC5BGFkurJ6MiY/s320/DSC02171.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474219458989423106" border="0" /></a>Like his gallery openings with their crowds of people in the streets, Jeffrey Deitch himself is equal parts NYC and LA ,and always has been, sans silicone and fake tans. At Shephard Fairey's opening on May Day, Mr. Deitch wore a characteristically pastel pink suit, and (as seen on YouTube) caught swearing with a venom not unlike that of Ari Gold in "Entourage", Mr. Deitch will fit right into LA.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: barricaded at the entry, nervous people fret.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hHEBy98EpSc4JZVKFTj-jbjSKKECiIYKjf4522IB8dpGl1wRx2go16b6OrPVJpP48inRfmR-S9kpIhy8WyjbIZQuG1BBbdRxGM5-WyWSUIuGqFLFHtJrmk6Ef_uEMRWoaDCbu0NC-34/s1600/DSC02185.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hHEBy98EpSc4JZVKFTj-jbjSKKECiIYKjf4522IB8dpGl1wRx2go16b6OrPVJpP48inRfmR-S9kpIhy8WyjbIZQuG1BBbdRxGM5-WyWSUIuGqFLFHtJrmk6Ef_uEMRWoaDCbu0NC-34/s320/DSC02185.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474224227388792546" border="0" /></a>Shephard Fairey's opening, on a warm Saturday evening, was a scene straight out of "Exit at the Gift Shop". Crowds lined up hours before the start of the official opening, and the line was an event in itself, stretching around the block, 10 hipsters thick , and slow to move. Opposite the line was an unfettered block party, with fancy motorcycles whose shapes, colors and collaged naked ladies vied for attention with the staid flat graphic art within the gallery.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0e2_vXGrnQKUqJC9oGH6lMk6TpRYGyISBRP4g-DV17C2ZeIjwmBeuMVhsw0WREH8d7zF5h13le8rk5V56pMGhiGbL6ZNiBCFx6N9biTpxD5g8A7ZE5a8lV9F1dyImO0IGViNek0cdjUs/s1600/DSC02192.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0e2_vXGrnQKUqJC9oGH6lMk6TpRYGyISBRP4g-DV17C2ZeIjwmBeuMVhsw0WREH8d7zF5h13le8rk5V56pMGhiGbL6ZNiBCFx6N9biTpxD5g8A7ZE5a8lV9F1dyImO0IGViNek0cdjUs/s320/DSC02192.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474225712781168562" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQuyoRSMe8Ux4H8GAnxZXAYOuqFn6Q2vfYEwMkSBBHJgpg1Z_WZw7gnTY52fByvvJ8mHITZh6sh_6K9RGw6c8u3pEyft0GTyszrjHdycIFRttMoqX34FyMpw86L7UWcc0g7FELkqUG2M/s1600/DSC02177.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQuyoRSMe8Ux4H8GAnxZXAYOuqFn6Q2vfYEwMkSBBHJgpg1Z_WZw7gnTY52fByvvJ8mHITZh6sh_6K9RGw6c8u3pEyft0GTyszrjHdycIFRttMoqX34FyMpw86L7UWcc0g7FELkqUG2M/s320/DSC02177.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474227006966907634" border="0" /></a>Posing and preening among the motos were a group of bedazzled, bejewelled, be-tatted, and sometimes bearded gents, presumably the owners of the bikes, though they could have been a bunch of models from the anti-Hell's-Angels department.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJbjBCofTY1yaqKjfh8s10mREBnLXHtLBKMAVO9K6mKP3VOv_5ir6qB64EVP5wSx67o6ROuI3NQB2vwMCbgUW8RX7dJyfG_6oKru_0MaFHfmPuQ70ltdxSIjw0l9pgFqgFOsD1Ak5tVc/s1600/DSC02191.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJbjBCofTY1yaqKjfh8s10mREBnLXHtLBKMAVO9K6mKP3VOv_5ir6qB64EVP5wSx67o6ROuI3NQB2vwMCbgUW8RX7dJyfG_6oKru_0MaFHfmPuQ70ltdxSIjw0l9pgFqgFOsD1Ak5tVc/s320/DSC02191.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474228722224285218" border="0" /></a>Celebrities abounded, including Tyson Beckford (left), quick to arrive and to depart. It all seemed strangely of another era--80's fabulous-- but sadly without the substance inside. I like the idea of Shephard Fairey much more than the reality: someone whose hard-working street art style has blossomed into a full-fledged commercial career, thanks to a certain Obama poster, and of course buoyed by Deitch's happy collaboration. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkgArio3izkHbgcl3lXprHjYLFM_6KM7GB711DoSNSTOhTNJo_ZPG6ZDbGFAaBXQvW5d0Y56AC-zi8N8AgeUboi5bz_K5gCc_JEO0xBKgeIeD0LdXgdW28murt8nlnBl-p0EtdtM-lU8/s1600/DSC02206.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkgArio3izkHbgcl3lXprHjYLFM_6KM7GB711DoSNSTOhTNJo_ZPG6ZDbGFAaBXQvW5d0Y56AC-zi8N8AgeUboi5bz_K5gCc_JEO0xBKgeIeD0LdXgdW28murt8nlnBl-p0EtdtM-lU8/s320/DSC02206.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474226170369945954" border="0" /></a> Fairey was likable in "Exit through the Gift Shop", which I highly recommend as a parable about art-world hype. In that movie, an unlikely protagonist [thrift-shop owner-turned artiste] becomes a semi-celebrity due to a massive marketing campaign, yet his work rips off every other street artist and pop artist, including Fairey himself.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDceSert9LStnkULZy1OemCI3utUc19jsPWwU5hjxHjU3gwYhAowTIJ8ggXsNcLGyFT5pRHjhRlgr4GSinsdQI25kRB9yei3XiqKx5VbQhDe-X74aVlN5QTZ4c0XotbssbNgGQCW2EGIc/s1600/DSC02195.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDceSert9LStnkULZy1OemCI3utUc19jsPWwU5hjxHjU3gwYhAowTIJ8ggXsNcLGyFT5pRHjhRlgr4GSinsdQI25kRB9yei3XiqKx5VbQhDe-X74aVlN5QTZ4c0XotbssbNgGQCW2EGIc/s200/DSC02195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474229837015506834" border="0" /></a><br />Fairey also recycles many a Pop and propaganda idiom, and happily admits to it, but inside a gallery his work suffers. So-called street art serves a purpose and attains a power that circumvent the Deitches of this world. The international nature of the art itself is even more fascinating, and its demographic is far wider than that of most "fine" artists. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9euPOWvqrcZZBFP5cfCM1DLyL7v2pruKUherxWOslj9MlsT1uwXwLuPrE-ZWiaJHzFPOnSJ4BoL8ru-1Tdq613uqgmR2OhIn4ImapdUKNHD46YyCxoJGhBjiGqi-vZlNEnyHOwLtEXsE/s1600/DSC02188.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9euPOWvqrcZZBFP5cfCM1DLyL7v2pruKUherxWOslj9MlsT1uwXwLuPrE-ZWiaJHzFPOnSJ4BoL8ru-1Tdq613uqgmR2OhIn4ImapdUKNHD46YyCxoJGhBjiGqi-vZlNEnyHOwLtEXsE/s320/DSC02188.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474229263717989266" border="0" /></a>Mr.Deitch has had a long history of working with graffiti-based artists, and among these, Fairey's work is the tamest. And as for Mr.Fairey, who would turn down an opportunity at having Tyson Beckford, motorcycles, and fancy dogs at his opening, not to mention lines of eager beavers trying to get in?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: installation view of Shephard Fairey, "May Day" exhibition.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FHMgji1t6r_vNG-oh52JRovuwkJX47T-4EQyp2cFobF_q1Af1VKLPjdtZCSCo3N8lo5et9Eec3tzdlJJyiG5J3eW6Ty5fmdx38bkXzMoiJlaN51Pnglqqw2iNmlQGzAiDzYOdieUPcQ/s1600/mayday_8.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FHMgji1t6r_vNG-oh52JRovuwkJX47T-4EQyp2cFobF_q1Af1VKLPjdtZCSCo3N8lo5et9Eec3tzdlJJyiG5J3eW6Ty5fmdx38bkXzMoiJlaN51Pnglqqw2iNmlQGzAiDzYOdieUPcQ/s320/mayday_8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474493176285676130" border="0" /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-14684784426319085822010-05-02T11:24:00.000-07:002010-06-10T11:30:13.971-07:00The Last Days of Chez Deitch, Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUK10XBlM2_2qNBWuU1vZRhEo-X7CgKZBxf1hxDNjGyapDVr85lFBOcZQhUVaUUf8DBp8Dl_Oh91MRWYEuvoiCUkXTZSOYvGBe02ROo6uCwjSq85fR3H7x92Urt8Ti3U_cwLJjdP6yUfA/s1600/DSC01669.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUK10XBlM2_2qNBWuU1vZRhEo-X7CgKZBxf1hxDNjGyapDVr85lFBOcZQhUVaUUf8DBp8Dl_Oh91MRWYEuvoiCUkXTZSOYvGBe02ROo6uCwjSq85fR3H7x92Urt8Ti3U_cwLJjdP6yUfA/s320/DSC01669.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469356860588398242" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Rosson Crow at Deitch Projects, 3/4/2010.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Jeffrey Deitch's departure from our fair city for LA has been much-chronicled, and although I've charted a 50/50 hit rate with his artists (still much higher than most galleries), the element I'll miss most is the medieval-pageantry aura of his openings. While I only caught Jules de Balincourt on a quiet Tuesday, I found the openings of Rosson Crow, held during the first day of Armory Week, and of Shephard Fairey, held last week on the heels of a currently-playing movie featuring Fairey [<span style="font-style: italic;">Exit at the Gift Shop</span>], to be extravaganzas of glamor.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ0rp-qEVEBOARl59_AKekZqnLkFBGvq9ofQdTqKYOSn3F-6Ehi4ElUtGkXnlS9Qklo9FMJkNJnO5v-h5Xj4do9EOpw2mPpoo6rAtdT8RHy5ynG4ygepjrxnSFJpBGbFzhJiUIuXmDCRE/s1600/DSC01661.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ0rp-qEVEBOARl59_AKekZqnLkFBGvq9ofQdTqKYOSn3F-6Ehi4ElUtGkXnlS9Qklo9FMJkNJnO5v-h5Xj4do9EOpw2mPpoo6rAtdT8RHy5ynG4ygepjrxnSFJpBGbFzhJiUIuXmDCRE/s320/DSC01661.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469357566135306834" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Right: Graffiti-top, brick wall pants, man about town.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVK9J0ipMGkVo5V12FVWhGXsPeii0yrOLmGcQA2cIOL7Yecew1X10Fe29-A5S8zmyGda2ywme894v2vSnDYkY3MgoIKqlk6gDnyTJxFKu4S-RVz3AFH4uyG1vV6Ih3yn8X6fvyqP8ltcs/s1600/DSC01672.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVK9J0ipMGkVo5V12FVWhGXsPeii0yrOLmGcQA2cIOL7Yecew1X10Fe29-A5S8zmyGda2ywme894v2vSnDYkY3MgoIKqlk6gDnyTJxFKu4S-RVz3AFH4uyG1vV6Ih3yn8X6fvyqP8ltcs/s320/DSC01672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469362455876039250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Keith Haring tunnel with contemporary urban texting dweller.</span><br /><br />But to be accurate, the glamor was of a certain very democratically-accessible sort: celebrities, collectoristas [one part fusty collector one part fashionista], and young kids with neon colors and ripped t-shirts all co-mingled and pretended to ignore each other. With all the hubbub of a movie premiere but without the velvet ropes (although the long lines at the Fairey show necessitated a special VIP-only line complete with bouncers), each opening reminded one of a Fellini-esque fete--yes, not quite circus-like, but certainly I'll miss my little pinch of Deitch's Dolce Vita.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXzxZJ1VrDl-gLE0MU1IZ_S_YTIYc2nD_EqfimsAo0TP3K-71LDphQu-QmkUO1y9gT7w89i1i8M20q9usL6oaLK2fz0JkZBbJO2qP1SUDpdULQwHNj9EDwZRb58W3-keHoyQIgECT-fM/s1600/DSC01654.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXzxZJ1VrDl-gLE0MU1IZ_S_YTIYc2nD_EqfimsAo0TP3K-71LDphQu-QmkUO1y9gT7w89i1i8M20q9usL6oaLK2fz0JkZBbJO2qP1SUDpdULQwHNj9EDwZRb58W3-keHoyQIgECT-fM/s320/DSC01654.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469356493000600050" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcayRl0gbPzEyIFPS8An-U21ROzAHB6DFK5zQ6thwKfjkjf93O2r8FHtaPK7vuy6kUFTcVet_fUfLyzaZCIoPGa1GKVKznM5Qimh3YynHMTLPyOgo0W6qlhOWzp9LTRsvASgEujQfb6c/s1600/DSC01659.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhcayRl0gbPzEyIFPS8An-U21ROzAHB6DFK5zQ6thwKfjkjf93O2r8FHtaPK7vuy6kUFTcVet_fUfLyzaZCIoPGa1GKVKznM5Qimh3YynHMTLPyOgo0W6qlhOWzp9LTRsvASgEujQfb6c/s320/DSC01659.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469359754933657458" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">Left: photographer waiting to snap </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfepmFP-A_rk_Ss_Xm47tLSSqOnLH5tCcV3JAy76Iq1P_M5Uu7HgDSbBokd5mLHJ_2BnXTVZzVITXvW7gi7w_2NRoRbCU8HvjawqWWfjSmInKRumoLwo51KlN25aES47CEnyi6k4tGb34/s1600/DSC01674.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfepmFP-A_rk_Ss_Xm47tLSSqOnLH5tCcV3JAy76Iq1P_M5Uu7HgDSbBokd5mLHJ_2BnXTVZzVITXvW7gi7w_2NRoRbCU8HvjawqWWfjSmInKRumoLwo51KlN25aES47CEnyi6k4tGb34/s320/DSC01674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469360855297593394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">as Rosson Crow greets fans.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Rosson Crow's ball gown, all poufs and trains.</span><br /></div><br />Rosson Crow's paintings were in themselves a tribute to art-worlds past: titled "The Bowery Boys", each painting was an homage to Bruce Nauman, Keith Haring, and other 80s stars, as well as subway trains, and now-gone places such as CBGBs. The meta-celebration of "Better Days Gone By" was everywhere--but in the person of a confident young artist who seduces with vibrant splashes of paint <span style="font-style: italic;">(detail at right)</span> and loud bangs of ambition, one felt a kinship, and a re-imagining, rather than a sad eulogy or empty envy of the glitz and grit of the 80s art scene. Deitch's desire to cycle through (some say devour and spit out) younger artists was at least for this one evening an example of a benevolent dictator throwing a bread and circus for his subjects; and what a wonderful circus it was. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6VC3ZGvT6fUeRLHZebqYMk6t4eFElakpXUbQjsYrZA_6TS_eiZLvvMwcQ_RsF5Sedrl2yt-ut0tdQWBT8WjSZNjgFx3kc3w3OqOXoeSMZUaWbsc2RUZzXAqN-ennrbeSmeyNNadifoY/s1600/DSC01662.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6VC3ZGvT6fUeRLHZebqYMk6t4eFElakpXUbQjsYrZA_6TS_eiZLvvMwcQ_RsF5Sedrl2yt-ut0tdQWBT8WjSZNjgFx3kc3w3OqOXoeSMZUaWbsc2RUZzXAqN-ennrbeSmeyNNadifoY/s320/DSC01662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469365176878895202" border="0" /></a>Among the crowd were the equally young prodigy designer Zac Posen, Rosson Crow and several other ladies wearing the bright warm hues found in many of her paintings, onlookers in baseball caps or high heels, all in a gleaming white space that one has to ascend into, as if into a privileged inner cloister.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEW22XWaA8Q-Jr2MI6nOWDPku0LKjfmbvSwNqUDeL1SBqkx98iDPnwIFifiGAkJNp6gcTicKgcYPJiHElr8cD_3fgN76ICmoDhcu2yvwnFYuXRLRb8kxor7TKr6eTRTky-xTQcqBtthwM/s1600/DSC01682.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEW22XWaA8Q-Jr2MI6nOWDPku0LKjfmbvSwNqUDeL1SBqkx98iDPnwIFifiGAkJNp6gcTicKgcYPJiHElr8cD_3fgN76ICmoDhcu2yvwnFYuXRLRb8kxor7TKr6eTRTky-xTQcqBtthwM/s320/DSC01682.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469365904667270962" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: matching lady-in-waiting.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimEUPnWh8O1t-FLMirstPWtvwhMQRPq9CS3jUOJ_4_0zK18bATr8umdnoKVkjgnkrY-y08WhP_xAl2YXKQC6A8IJYOnQPC8aHkxWAj10h0qDMbLJySee-TqyXxjhGOXBmdLjmgbp6CcjU/s1600/DSC01681.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimEUPnWh8O1t-FLMirstPWtvwhMQRPq9CS3jUOJ_4_0zK18bATr8umdnoKVkjgnkrY-y08WhP_xAl2YXKQC6A8IJYOnQPC8aHkxWAj10h0qDMbLJySee-TqyXxjhGOXBmdLjmgbp6CcjU/s200/DSC01681.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469366707816126370" border="0" /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-1485157917165413132010-03-11T16:57:00.000-08:002010-03-12T12:05:54.292-08:00The Armory Fair: "Hang In There, Baby"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9EfHhDMvXPkB022jGCNFO_IBnp-RBjS7vHQ7FGfH0UolholbOGoPR3reI5fxsm86-CeztxiHSIcsdEZn29obVFzI4-Ws11TSKQ_cSZIg0FbLCpoM3S3qNZUVmMlrPh-T9_d83C-XyGU/s1600-h/DSC01798.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9EfHhDMvXPkB022jGCNFO_IBnp-RBjS7vHQ7FGfH0UolholbOGoPR3reI5fxsm86-CeztxiHSIcsdEZn29obVFzI4-Ws11TSKQ_cSZIg0FbLCpoM3S3qNZUVmMlrPh-T9_d83C-XyGU/s320/DSC01798.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447548227174440194" border="0" /></a> <meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/asyageisberg/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>117</o:Words> <o:characters>670</o:Characters> <o:lines>5</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>822</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>11.1280</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotshowrevisions/> <w:donotprintrevisions/> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"Hang in there, Baby." (<span style="font-style: italic;">Left</span>) Fans of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sean Landers</span>’s onanistic career of would be proud of his latest endeavors—a booth full of work at Friedrich Petzel Gallery, and a perfect 2010 art market recap. Landers expressed not just what he, and by extension all self-involved artists (that is to say, all artists) are thinking, but what the entire art world is self-reflexively musing.</span></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"Ne me quitte pas", the kitten pleads: don't leave me, dear collectors!
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<br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBc6A8y4t4jgF5vYUUGLI6-xzgKT9EAvnvIQdO3njtOSqtgB7qp_x5IdqyT-NKEa9nlpL6zbhOUvu__adcaCQe6AyW8nOorx7pO7aZvlttiMKleunCrFKn-nbW2tcRFrGZh4F5RxbDFks/s1600-h/DSC01790.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBc6A8y4t4jgF5vYUUGLI6-xzgKT9EAvnvIQdO3njtOSqtgB7qp_x5IdqyT-NKEa9nlpL6zbhOUvu__adcaCQe6AyW8nOorx7pO7aZvlttiMKleunCrFKn-nbW2tcRFrGZh4F5RxbDFks/s320/DSC01790.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447549740337484242" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style=";font-family:";font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Right: Jack Shainman's booth on Saturday.
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<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But fear not, this year’s Armory Show was brimming with art, although crammed with smaller and medium–sized works rather than the giant warhorses of years past. The show was overrun by all manner of species: on o</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">pening day, the VIPs, VVIPs, and countless press and looky-lous roamed the stalls in their Wednesday best. By Saturday, at Pier 94 (the more contemporary of the two), security tried to manage the queue for the stairs to prevent trampling, clueless parents brought their strollers and carriages, and there was not even a spare bit of floor to rest a weary derriere.</span></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span></span><!--EndFragment--><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> One artist complained of spilling her $16</span> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">glass of Champagne due to the madding crowds, and many were heard to mutter not-to-silent screams of "MOVE!!".
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<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAuykDVSQhUtkeCBMEXgisXRqd7T50c-92o4aa0H3IsLfO1Zb2CBrnDo2QAQMQyLOduVoKJymGQSSVy11McTT3CG7tNft1MVdVKNKadZzZFjkW1EUDMZ3ZzHW3lnEKUimuoAP6T46d_E/s1600-h/DSC01792.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAuykDVSQhUtkeCBMEXgisXRqd7T50c-92o4aa0H3IsLfO1Zb2CBrnDo2QAQMQyLOduVoKJymGQSSVy11McTT3CG7tNft1MVdVKNKadZzZFjkW1EUDMZ3ZzHW3lnEKUimuoAP6T46d_E/s320/DSC01792.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447552394194640738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfk084gt3_abay8gM5eC4qxorR-VMFlu1GNhY-dBDdIBN3I6RfAyf2jS1qAqb3lRaTD4F9GAXltmH99z2DVgdnvvijfrH9xsTULliKzabD8kyOHs3qV4Hnd3kr6ui25Xc9TC1W-B2ymQ/s1600-h/DSC00698.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfk084gt3_abay8gM5eC4qxorR-VMFlu1GNhY-dBDdIBN3I6RfAyf2jS1qAqb3lRaTD4F9GAXltmH99z2DVgdnvvijfrH9xsTULliKzabD8kyOHs3qV4Hnd3kr6ui25Xc9TC1W-B2ymQ/s320/DSC00698.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447760854894270674" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Artist Nick Cave, at Jack Shainman, with El Anatsui wall hanging behind him.</span>
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<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Detail, Nick Cave sculptures.</span>
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<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Jack Shainman had a mobbed booth, but the art, all colorful vim and vigor, more than held its own. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nick Cave</span>'s soundsuits, a perennial art fair favorite, were pared down to a single element or color, becoming ever more mysterious, undermined by the smiling face of the artist himself.
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<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvFlzWiQ00C_J-eavP4UXWWWyALrYnpewEFDRYg4fVuOn0Mg6wvem-lls0GqKqbiyVsIbo4xbm4FXEtw_T4CNNMfRcEOG5euPlx96b4AusRcC6p8R-fGIUjevtcAlTsaMvXQKUEUeyiw/s1600-h/DSC00714.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvFlzWiQ00C_J-eavP4UXWWWyALrYnpewEFDRYg4fVuOn0Mg6wvem-lls0GqKqbiyVsIbo4xbm4FXEtw_T4CNNMfRcEOG5euPlx96b4AusRcC6p8R-fGIUjevtcAlTsaMvXQKUEUeyiw/s320/DSC00714.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447764921245389234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Rina Banerjee at Nathalie Obadia.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Galerie Nathalie Obadia had a museum-worthy dramatically lit staging of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Rina Banerjee</span>'s works. By Saturday her sculptures' delicate protrusions had forced the gallery to tape the entire booth off, as the gallerists sat a table nearby, pleine d'ennui. Banerjee's cultural mishmash of references was submerged in the impact of the objects themselves, confusing yet evocative, and happy to display a reliance on old-fashioned visual "wow".</span></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;">
<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTA_npvudTG882qBGIdDPpd8YKS0OFeMDjB8-sF4JQlMHhpfoOXq8tngESQm5B5xhWP-CkxhbgKod3aYXMwWcw1-HZYI5m861-Vw_7hxgdyOc-yG43MgSajnk4-uHsF10HcBpHl4OUVYw/s1600-h/DSC00675.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTA_npvudTG882qBGIdDPpd8YKS0OFeMDjB8-sF4JQlMHhpfoOXq8tngESQm5B5xhWP-CkxhbgKod3aYXMwWcw1-HZYI5m861-Vw_7hxgdyOc-yG43MgSajnk4-uHsF10HcBpHl4OUVYw/s200/DSC00675.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447766159861937282" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Nicole Klagsbrun Gallery, carpet.
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<br /></span></div> <span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Nicole Klagsbrun's booth, with yellow swastika on right.</span>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhhAQ9Ju2pXvwaqKSjqIOY-yk2_LmFVn-lkO6bD7M6aZG5aqDJHmwXsnRlOG1jKDGsxkula6jlxaeV0yOUiBxYnS7HvkXvmWb7pVKHdLN0r-g58JAVsV-nfllsAuMHfvB5HXmy-Jwjzs/s1600-h/DSC00674.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhhAQ9Ju2pXvwaqKSjqIOY-yk2_LmFVn-lkO6bD7M6aZG5aqDJHmwXsnRlOG1jKDGsxkula6jlxaeV0yOUiBxYnS7HvkXvmWb7pVKHdLN0r-g58JAVsV-nfllsAuMHfvB5HXmy-Jwjzs/s200/DSC00674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447766499455913506" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Nicole Klagsbrun's booth was a show-stopper as well, its all-over neon yellow-green so bright that gawkers didn't notice the swastika painting on the wall. The entire installation was by artist <span style="font-weight: bold;">Adam McEwen</span>, but the connection between all the works and the arresting color wasn't nearly as clear as the shrewdness of having a wide-open booth at an intersection that stopped viewers in their tracks. </span>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaAumJkuGURPz2wAC0Rh9QOiZOmIZ1aKB_saMdOOnCTpTfjm6pG2wcVNjIbkJW0DAWmbmVdf4L3kr_8PyimjWpbVIa57mO9MaGYrJGteBOjmhA037RN7p-mWc88CApaqkkQCz39450pY/s1600-h/DSC01826.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaAumJkuGURPz2wAC0Rh9QOiZOmIZ1aKB_saMdOOnCTpTfjm6pG2wcVNjIbkJW0DAWmbmVdf4L3kr_8PyimjWpbVIa57mO9MaGYrJGteBOjmhA037RN7p-mWc88CApaqkkQCz39450pY/s320/DSC01826.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447776783669099410" border="0" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihOyKVC-VrZWUQzQYrtfsW9R37KjFMb3vMFew29yG41QYxqH5dtUov0GohIVJM3LteBKd5fDDjP7lnsg9H5W1kA6iqhxS4mtl2M3_2NWFE0PkIadFFKmHsJY2uFf7Pr0slGRZs6cNTWIY/s1600-h/DSC01821.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihOyKVC-VrZWUQzQYrtfsW9R37KjFMb3vMFew29yG41QYxqH5dtUov0GohIVJM3LteBKd5fDDjP7lnsg9H5W1kA6iqhxS4mtl2M3_2NWFE0PkIadFFKmHsJY2uFf7Pr0slGRZs6cNTWIY/s200/DSC01821.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447777158539164466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left and Right: Tony Feher at Pace.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The opposite effect occurred at Pace, where viewers plunged into an all-black room of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Tony Feher </span><span>table-top</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>installations. His mundane object and recycled aesthetic worked best up close. Plastic water bottles, caps, bunched up aluminum foil, an old globe with a bow out of string, were not as gingerly arranged as Sarah Sze works, or explosively strewn as a Jason Rhoades installation, but rather the work of a bricoleur of midling ambition, which I mean as a compliment.
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<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFidq7KL2Kp-_yN9gluXw9quKtOwJyujkkGAiH9vfax-ak5EGg_vTxJdTfjFSSNJPqTREEN9u_SrMEIQT3LBBD0E309HSmP87_GIJqiOB3FgfjVaU_nejWBGL_c5xN79v91Ai-M-3JaBE/s1600-h/DSC01810.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFidq7KL2Kp-_yN9gluXw9quKtOwJyujkkGAiH9vfax-ak5EGg_vTxJdTfjFSSNJPqTREEN9u_SrMEIQT3LBBD0E309HSmP87_GIJqiOB3FgfjVaU_nejWBGL_c5xN79v91Ai-M-3JaBE/s320/DSC01810.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447818938078412994" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">Left and Right: Isa Genzken at Hauser & Wirth.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UACn_2n9OocgqVKs6HM-Zg0GOMcsO7cICbv_haBeKphplH-CLJJItZ8KeFyqi6nN6HDBNKuyf5i2nludoptDcCmauv1iWCT0iwL3oUW3BITvqX7jPKFi81SSVKoXZGqw2RcHT2OMCI4/s1600-h/DSC01815.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UACn_2n9OocgqVKs6HM-Zg0GOMcsO7cICbv_haBeKphplH-CLJJItZ8KeFyqi6nN6HDBNKuyf5i2nludoptDcCmauv1iWCT0iwL3oUW3BITvqX7jPKFi81SSVKoXZGqw2RcHT2OMCI4/s200/DSC01815.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447823034783254114" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The Armory was full of glitter, embroidery, festive color, and celebration, even if it came in photos of slums in Third World countries (i.e. Zwelethu Mthethwa at Shainman). <span style="font-weight: bold;"> Isa Genzken</span>'s "Disco 'Soon' (Ground Zero)" had a perplexing title, but its beads , ribbons, and red paint perhaps suggested that we can smooth over our tragedies by getting back to partying mode.
<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMixDqYgV8qIVvzfitVjeAn7rALmA_8bUfWL6krixwYuAPcF_MiDOFr008zmSgiw-N3iWHpsd0zhAyJ2aqCi7UUi-EjsK4ImBVzQX0UJd83hewUiRhvaqanzB8bkuN0sJMt8ucSED05U/s1600-h/DSC00660.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGMixDqYgV8qIVvzfitVjeAn7rALmA_8bUfWL6krixwYuAPcF_MiDOFr008zmSgiw-N3iWHpsd0zhAyJ2aqCi7UUi-EjsK4ImBVzQX0UJd83hewUiRhvaqanzB8bkuN0sJMt8ucSED05U/s320/DSC00660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447822296142900354" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Houseago head looking at another head.</span></span>
<br />
<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">Figuration also was prominent, mostly in painting and sculpture. With a huge work at the Whitney Biennial, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Thomas Houseago</span> showed several large primitivist bronze busts at The Modern Institute.
<br />
<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtfhmxBuHrw-o2f98HD_IEfVskzFWngkCs8NQQ5Rp2ElEYAE0ZZs5weA7pBQGNFjZmcJRJsIB-FWhMVAtOiwyhKBo-TbUFaJ6XPHhdv069wjprazWXjiXUFkA4UbYWqHyRSiSQezlILrc/s1600-h/DSC00802.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtfhmxBuHrw-o2f98HD_IEfVskzFWngkCs8NQQ5Rp2ElEYAE0ZZs5weA7pBQGNFjZmcJRJsIB-FWhMVAtOiwyhKBo-TbUFaJ6XPHhdv069wjprazWXjiXUFkA4UbYWqHyRSiSQezlILrc/s320/DSC00802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447823872915021346" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tony Matelli</span>'s life-size epoxy girl in underwear titled "Sleepwalker"( <span style="font-style: italic;">left</span>) found her way into a tightly packed Leo Koenig booth. Her hyper-realist body surrounded by clothed oglers made me think of her as exploited, suggesting everyone's Freudian nightmare of being caught in public naked.
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<br />On the other hand, some work seemed able to survive <span style="font-style: italic;">only </span>within the art fair context: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Jonathon Monk</span>'s instruction "Do Not Pay More Than $40,000" in neon had an effect that lasted exactly 2 seconds, by the third, one had moved on mentally and visually.
<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-O6ApuyRbc6G7uGSFRqBHj8p9RPeF-1jP9fmquuwO1RGb9b3MxwoDTymBCRXN_3sgA7AHc6cuUZe3P7CD99P9aAX_V_I9_HDt0xQKBXh0DGpYoaLDjYNJ3nIktJy8xjl1j4P8x2NM2gk/s1600-h/DSC00663.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-O6ApuyRbc6G7uGSFRqBHj8p9RPeF-1jP9fmquuwO1RGb9b3MxwoDTymBCRXN_3sgA7AHc6cuUZe3P7CD99P9aAX_V_I9_HDt0xQKBXh0DGpYoaLDjYNJ3nIktJy8xjl1j4P8x2NM2gk/s320/DSC00663.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447826106606571330" border="0" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Jonathon Monk at Lisson gallery.</span>
<br /></div><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br />As jaded and begging for entertainment as one is at the Armory, it was still possible to solicit a reaction. The first thing I heard upon entering the Fair was a German couple clearly scandalized by some naughty photos in Horton & Co.'s booth. </span><span style="font-size:130%;">"Mein Got, mein Got"</span><span style="font-size:130%;">, they gasped to each other--imagine how much it takes to shock our usually-less-sanctimonious European connoisseurs.
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<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HXzhnv5PkdGZ5xRBp98JwrsWAtEAuA8UL_dHCrS_OWi7lZb_Ti51QC1jiEo6jur7fld462BzAYA-njZ-h1rrdk6ZKr5UGjM9SXc7QJrBPOXRqsKzJa1QQHAbB3i7p8tQSsQg_KY-G20/s1600-h/DSC00806.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HXzhnv5PkdGZ5xRBp98JwrsWAtEAuA8UL_dHCrS_OWi7lZb_Ti51QC1jiEo6jur7fld462BzAYA-njZ-h1rrdk6ZKr5UGjM9SXc7QJrBPOXRqsKzJa1QQHAbB3i7p8tQSsQg_KY-G20/s200/DSC00806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447828057148641954" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Among the VIPs were the usual celebs and art-celebs, though it was so crowded I only glimpsed one: a very jaded<span style="font-weight: bold;"> Tracey Emin </span>glaring in boredom at her smartphone, but proud of finally being recognized she gamely posed for me (<span style="font-style: italic;">Left</span>). </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCY0ZD3qe_VBzBffESzhxivoXOizaZ9upQWlEzQwuqNIeKWcBCD-ZynQwGpob9Y9R7eUi5a_9dmk8PkZt9oQzMoEN3qpEB1QwtTZlNed7s2rbGmkvjkjHvkriMjpdv-etYp3JbcXy6XZg/s1600-h/DSC01816.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCY0ZD3qe_VBzBffESzhxivoXOizaZ9upQWlEzQwuqNIeKWcBCD-ZynQwGpob9Y9R7eUi5a_9dmk8PkZt9oQzMoEN3qpEB1QwtTZlNed7s2rbGmkvjkjHvkriMjpdv-etYp3JbcXy6XZg/s320/DSC01816.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447829516265595090" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Fashion-wise, fur coats and fur hats were positively wooly mammoth-like even though the climate was more like Bombay. One woman had a half coat, clearly too fashion-proud to take it off (hello, free coatcheck!)--(<span style="font-style: italic;">Right</span>). Zebras were also in favor, in </span><span style="font-size:130%;">all black-and-white</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> shoe, dress, and coat (i.e. <span style="font-style: italic;">Left</span>).</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJF2PE59OaD1rHd2Af4kfgplKJ-hVt5_ZWpOFiA6HyQwGavWtcyvgLMeRkwqMB0Am9TOdNAg30lHs7C7WCaeT7xpIKwhkyridOIN90h01M4Sd1bEr20W7LqcO1is_CA5biqz24rSDwak/s1600-h/DSC00789.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 107px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJF2PE59OaD1rHd2Af4kfgplKJ-hVt5_ZWpOFiA6HyQwGavWtcyvgLMeRkwqMB0Am9TOdNAg30lHs7C7WCaeT7xpIKwhkyridOIN90h01M4Sd1bEr20W7LqcO1is_CA5biqz24rSDwak/s200/DSC00789.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447831222041695730" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">And speaking of species, an explosion of ladybugs was unleashed mid-Saturday, to the disbelief and confusion of security guards-- "I guess we can vacuum??". Within an hour they were extinguished by lesser means: death by stiletto-squish. I thought it was a cruel gag, as if we needed more side-show distractions, especially at such a cute creature's expense.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;">At least those were the only casualties, as the health of the art fair was pronounced "stable".</span>
<br />Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-80485554946075014882010-02-01T16:58:00.000-08:002010-06-10T11:31:18.435-07:00Damien Hirst is the Devil--Not<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pJlvauPue0DpR1e1Dy0KBx7iSM52PoR-xrDUvNHnlgvBu6T27VdjKyE4RoYddS9tlIqLXmYezjiHCBzxkVsLmoU8na5nGWBlDUlS2yZXtgO8oLfWZvwKq-ta7nCiW8aJbvv9nLX1ewE/s1600-h/DSC00129.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pJlvauPue0DpR1e1Dy0KBx7iSM52PoR-xrDUvNHnlgvBu6T27VdjKyE4RoYddS9tlIqLXmYezjiHCBzxkVsLmoU8na5nGWBlDUlS2yZXtgO8oLfWZvwKq-ta7nCiW8aJbvv9nLX1ewE/s320/DSC00129.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434478057441398274" border="0" /></a>On a frigid Saturday night, Gagosian's Madison Avenue gallery hosted a greatest hits version of the Brit marketing genius's oeuvre. Coatless hatless creatures stood in line to get autographs, while a few strays actually went downstairs to look at some of the celeb-free art (although John McEnroe dutifully strolled through before departing). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2EShxuyd0vMU3pl2RqPKfPJA7C2TKpGSd3GlHEVFYOBcb3dzY2QHGKRrpQduQ0nWQiEtY5NIm06piWmqVFifgh4JNQK_kJyb1EY1ZL_32JcMiWCkxSsFRoAMGKNUDstMsGg9muH9SPk/s1600-h/DSC00142.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2EShxuyd0vMU3pl2RqPKfPJA7C2TKpGSd3GlHEVFYOBcb3dzY2QHGKRrpQduQ0nWQiEtY5NIm06piWmqVFifgh4JNQK_kJyb1EY1ZL_32JcMiWCkxSsFRoAMGKNUDstMsGg9muH9SPk/s320/DSC00142.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434191539365194082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: detail of "Judgment Day", gold-plated case with 30,000 manufactured diamonds.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Damien Hirst [with fabulous rings] signing autographs:" Who should I say it's for, Dahling?"</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH4JBqaCXgtvkL5Wtd9-Lx0gY-CCAMi9S6Pvilj4UHR02y1wSgAyDGuL8K17TSNeN4D99SdS9pyHrElkwQbXMgUVXIe6mqom8twb3BZCsq-RzYZC7wHdAE9OV5yZxCNF00tMtvBbmrnkQ/s1600-h/DSC00138.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH4JBqaCXgtvkL5Wtd9-Lx0gY-CCAMi9S6Pvilj4UHR02y1wSgAyDGuL8K17TSNeN4D99SdS9pyHrElkwQbXMgUVXIe6mqom8twb3BZCsq-RzYZC7wHdAE9OV5yZxCNF00tMtvBbmrnkQ/s320/DSC00138.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434480010123274530" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Spotted in the madding crowd were: the naughty photographer Terry Richardson, Mr.Pineapple Express James Franco, Johnny Mac, Mick Jagger, Takashi Murakami, Jeffrey Deitch, and GoGo himself. Power art-biz/show-biz huddles were everywhere, with Mick talking to Mac, Mac talking to GoGo and Deitch, and Mick happily posing for pix with Hirst.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Mick Jagger hugging Damien Hirst.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4RGQJByDB_4mrsAo2PaFruFZZbn1kPXBSMzkGoEy9oyqdts6bOrh27tFnYNch5dk9hUMAT0SMO0N3E_TgVh8MW6KU-DsSW9Vmh4_x-7t6vgbrkgR82U4_fc4Cs682joKEu2HrMN1xAU/s1600-h/DSC00139.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 116px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4RGQJByDB_4mrsAo2PaFruFZZbn1kPXBSMzkGoEy9oyqdts6bOrh27tFnYNch5dk9hUMAT0SMO0N3E_TgVh8MW6KU-DsSW9Vmh4_x-7t6vgbrkgR82U4_fc4Cs682joKEu2HrMN1xAU/s200/DSC00139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434480496479559426" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Gagosian artist Takashi Murakami.</span><br /><br />It's too easy to have something snarky to say about aptly-named <span style="font-weight: bold;">Damien Hirst</span>. Although he hasn't yet been featured in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Simpsons</span>, Hirst has nonetheless become ubiquitous in mass culture. And while his show had as grandiose a premise and title as ever-- "The End of an Era"-- the sad collection of old and new works showed a consistent path of diminishing returns.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZW9loKr5XMVCFcxB1al7PlP6JqJVhNdr6HSjSPdc_I0zW4S61As2jR4udYeZaXB3ryNngFDDoM0-YEqArcUn65BdFo9DnDJmQ-DKcvluahYwEpWo9o_Q0KdyEPi1i28g8SW3dYZ6FqQo/s1600-h/DSC00114.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZW9loKr5XMVCFcxB1al7PlP6JqJVhNdr6HSjSPdc_I0zW4S61As2jR4udYeZaXB3ryNngFDDoM0-YEqArcUn65BdFo9DnDJmQ-DKcvluahYwEpWo9o_Q0KdyEPi1i28g8SW3dYZ6FqQo/s320/DSC00114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434194406576437458" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Damien Hirst's cow sticking its tongue out at the oblivious crowd.<br /><br /></span>In the center of the main room was a vitrine eponymously titled "The End of an Era", with a cow head recycled from an earlier sculpture entitled "The Golden Half". While claiming to acknowledging his own conceptual dead end, Hirst was still trying to market a career arc that started with a bang [Death, God, Big Ideas] and has since become an end game whose outcome is now only measured in dollars. And despite the brouhaha at the opening, and the range of works from 2006-2009, there was quite a large number of unsold works.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaL9sA4zadshfyoaPSlPnY5M6S5BkJ_FjsFKsEb_jtPoYNvGd1c1NsZQtygsGFJ68pQ1NWNLLDNV0iimblFY6dBYWTMYz7hidyi9GgaMlbHM38afU6zm471Sff-veAtTWwNdfYkIrU8A/s1600-h/DSC00121.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlaL9sA4zadshfyoaPSlPnY5M6S5BkJ_FjsFKsEb_jtPoYNvGd1c1NsZQtygsGFJ68pQ1NWNLLDNV0iimblFY6dBYWTMYz7hidyi9GgaMlbHM38afU6zm471Sff-veAtTWwNdfYkIrU8A/s320/DSC00121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434489906917633602" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Gem paintings in gold frames, behind glass, reflecting the packed room full of gem-wearers.</span><br /><br />Aside from his trademark paintings of pills, butterflies, and spots, Hirst continued his obsessions with wealth with his Vegas-y arrays of diamonds and zirconias in gold cases. Paintings of famous diamonds on black backgrounds with gold frames were dead on arrival. But all eyes were on the golden glitz, as the Golden Calf was old hat. Of course my eyes were on the hoofs of the humans.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2z-HEckpOcPryT3YwjgCF1YI1rPdu4Z7xsaFWuEQFUKOLOqNj4mlrvH14-STNyHzwcd9h3Al-phLlO8xcijBpzsmgGCTiqrz4Q5bOP54-On0q4ooXWjPu-l_1ReN0_f7mNJdfUZmo_K8/s1600-h/DSC00130.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2z-HEckpOcPryT3YwjgCF1YI1rPdu4Z7xsaFWuEQFUKOLOqNj4mlrvH14-STNyHzwcd9h3Al-phLlO8xcijBpzsmgGCTiqrz4Q5bOP54-On0q4ooXWjPu-l_1ReN0_f7mNJdfUZmo_K8/s320/DSC00130.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434497828223443362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Equestrian chique.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Below: "You Cannot be Serious!!"</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> John McEnroe to Larry Gagosian, with Mick.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPocR3DRZZQiMZDoF-eq62gWVXPYWacBTXoKMC2HOP8TID3MB60r4S9JMHn9z0ayreit3h5bUTiaK_resMCHPG7MDy-p55Qlx_D3hIsh4D_P1yyuAatwb_qD97VVcalOaPWvD755QoFak/s1600-h/DSC00132.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPocR3DRZZQiMZDoF-eq62gWVXPYWacBTXoKMC2HOP8TID3MB60r4S9JMHn9z0ayreit3h5bUTiaK_resMCHPG7MDy-p55Qlx_D3hIsh4D_P1yyuAatwb_qD97VVcalOaPWvD755QoFak/s320/DSC00132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434498987274868834" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Below Right: Endless work for Mr.Hirst.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrix0I99mvgbyUOO_gpwiUjkEYC2WKxi27nufjjQ3kYEvFCORJgIiN3yx_Mskfy7a5gykL-9UcDML7jhZU5s-rBWw2Y5IhCzy_sVuzx3TShayR97PWo8LjKWHGIWbGeR4Cu07WjprmQAs/s1600-h/DSC00143.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrix0I99mvgbyUOO_gpwiUjkEYC2WKxi27nufjjQ3kYEvFCORJgIiN3yx_Mskfy7a5gykL-9UcDML7jhZU5s-rBWw2Y5IhCzy_sVuzx3TShayR97PWo8LjKWHGIWbGeR4Cu07WjprmQAs/s320/DSC00143.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434504269330173746" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Below left: Detail of butterflies encased in paint.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuu_oAXpYog_CS1V6NLmVrGJ3yQ1aZfSHjW7F2xCU1oK8o5P-T7WhyW_D5OM8gfDY6GHvnS7OIUF7qr9L7NZ8Q_Ot5L_49R6Q3dMkrkmJJlmJpW3NYTT2oSHkOeO_w0cRqquL3DjjnUYE/s1600-h/DSC00150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuu_oAXpYog_CS1V6NLmVrGJ3yQ1aZfSHjW7F2xCU1oK8o5P-T7WhyW_D5OM8gfDY6GHvnS7OIUF7qr9L7NZ8Q_Ot5L_49R6Q3dMkrkmJJlmJpW3NYTT2oSHkOeO_w0cRqquL3DjjnUYE/s320/DSC00150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434505378037828002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINRugKnRuj5ber3_8Rl3saFpWoKhkg37rENeN0lI_Wl2XGTWcYIRZ7ovHNRnZ_ylGnWTFR7stzeLZzOpTrdlGTfbV9mWACVSuUZEtuQJQz2CLhR5rZMHkBMQkIl9VPQ_NyUk0OVvA8uo/s1600-h/DSC00123.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 149px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINRugKnRuj5ber3_8Rl3saFpWoKhkg37rENeN0lI_Wl2XGTWcYIRZ7ovHNRnZ_ylGnWTFR7stzeLZzOpTrdlGTfbV9mWACVSuUZEtuQJQz2CLhR5rZMHkBMQkIl9VPQ_NyUk0OVvA8uo/s200/DSC00123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434507038576169074" border="0" /></a>"Damien Hirst: End of an Era" at Gagosian Gallery through March 6.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3SFk_5ecSuxlZqiczITp2rNE-eKTPkjVd4D3zUnUDbw-WD0BQ51u2e7b6d0MxcaREXqU_HR8_kue875fx57451q8XqDFyaVsWdnkOx6rfA64wokrZxSILCUw3jmKOMX1KshI-zcSxhc/s1600-h/DSC00148.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb3SFk_5ecSuxlZqiczITp2rNE-eKTPkjVd4D3zUnUDbw-WD0BQ51u2e7b6d0MxcaREXqU_HR8_kue875fx57451q8XqDFyaVsWdnkOx6rfA64wokrZxSILCUw3jmKOMX1KshI-zcSxhc/s320/DSC00148.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434506694747259154" border="0" /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-54163484617700731842010-01-30T14:12:00.000-08:002010-02-05T14:03:54.476-08:00Tino Seghal-- meh?<meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <link rel="File-List" href="file://localhost/Users/asyageisberg/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip1/01/clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>80</o:Words> <o:characters>460</o:Characters> <o:lines>3</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>564</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>11.1280</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotshowrevisions/> <w:donotprintrevisions/> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Tino Seghal</span> exhibit at the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Guggenheim</span> opened quietly, with no photographs allowed (at the press preview or anytime). This made sense, as there really was not a thing to photograph, except the "piece" in the center of the atrium, of a male/female couple slowly writhing in various poses of embrace and kissing, enacting famous artworks on that theme. Quite flimsy both visually and conceptually, the piece easily suggested an earnest college dance performance. More intriguing was the second of Seghal's "pieces". In quotes, because Seghal fancies himself as an anti-object artist, forcing his work to be sans documentation, explanation, or materiality. At the Gugg, I didn't read the (albeit vague) press release as I wanted to allow myself free reign to try and accept his conceit, for while there was nothing new about his posture, I also didn't want to be a predisposed meh-sayer.
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Indeed, I showed up towards the end of the preview and saw, as I was promised, emptiness. Rather, some people sitting at the bottom of the museum, and mostly ignoring the performers. To see the Gugg for the first time entirely empty of art, especially as compared to earlier manifestations of cramming [Art of China? Brazil? Russia?], was like seeing a mansion emptied of its candelabras, carpets, and curtains: you glimpsed how un-majestic it all suddenly seemed, just a big white spiral hallway.
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<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">As I walked up the first ramp, to avoid stomping out, a group of adorable kids waited, and one gamin approached and asked me to define progress. Taken aback, I tried to think how to speak weightily to a 7-year-old. "Things getting better over time?" I blurted, anxiously hoping the kid would approve. He asked me to give him an example, and I thought of something personal that had been on my mind. Finally, the kid repeated what I had said verbatim to a 20-something "interpreter", who took over the interrogation based on my answer. Within seconds we were revealing things about ourselves, and debating if progress in my example really was a straight line. Suddenly a 30-something interrupted with a non-sequitor about current events, and off we went. And finally, an older professorial type explained about a theory of Hesiod's, and the conversation went on to Haiti, Nigeria, and the entrenchment of the world's problems.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I repeated the path up the ramp once more, and the interpreters followed a similar rhythm, yet in most cases the conversations were dense, engaging, and real. I did not feel like a pawn in some art brat's conceptual gambit, but a participant, a creator, and perhaps the driver of the work. Does Seghal presuppose curiosity and a willingness to engage in provocative tete-a-tetes? Or was it because I purposefully avoided a cynical interpretation? It would be easy to want to slap Seghal for owning one of the world's most celebrated museums for 6 weeks only to leave it at basically a cocktail conversation. But even while going up the ramp slowly I was quite aware of my physicality, and its metaphoric connection to our topic: how apt to go up a spiral, and then go down alone, mulling over the exercise, and ending up in the bottom, back to reality. Had anything changed in those 15 minutes? Perhaps not enough. In other cases maybe I would give Seghal a slap for leaving so much of the art-making to the interpreters and the audience, but that day, I wanted to give him a slap on the back, for making me want to repeat the exercise, rediscover the Gugg, and go on a journey that let me see something without seeing anything. </p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tino Seghal</span> is up at the Guggenheim until March 10th.
<br /></p><!--EndFragment--> Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-72635576473830966442009-12-20T21:09:00.000-08:002009-12-20T21:45:23.028-08:00Miami Fashion We Can Enjoy While Surviving the Blizzard of '09<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBJyWknDnIL-EKW-gXUtZ3MYJ3uxln1Rpw0gZIJPnHx8LJ3I_6Prva6zhIzISElM_VfxOyCLvVejXZcz9CzV2xCXPjErIfRV0IiIeo97IRP2BDRrA823FJIcRlrqTzPVKHVKyjhwE2Vw/s1600-h/DSC01318.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBJyWknDnIL-EKW-gXUtZ3MYJ3uxln1Rpw0gZIJPnHx8LJ3I_6Prva6zhIzISElM_VfxOyCLvVejXZcz9CzV2xCXPjErIfRV0IiIeo97IRP2BDRrA823FJIcRlrqTzPVKHVKyjhwE2Vw/s400/DSC01318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417553100049632082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: "Paradise" by Jack Pierson, at MOCA, Miami.<br /><br /></span><span>The first night of Miami was the perfect way to slap a bit of Miami fashion into any warmth-deprived New Yorker. At MOCA, a reception sponsored by Vanity Fair had all the platform stilettos sinking into the earth of the Museum courtyard, but no one cared, as the women still towered over the men, and everyone lined up for the free booze. Weird combination Smurfette-ballerinas posed and pranced, and promoted the gin du jour.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbmi0IW9ReFwYy53EKsC5fY0dVCIJzjlAYhhLG0qVA7yzxVUMg1r-Tc4soqmZGW74Uz4bnjSHxoeBqhyphenhyphenqz5np8jgjmK-9aAeMfgb5ZA2j7Yda0_jvwIhajSKdGLSSp5WUbvctEyv-cSM/s1600-h/DSC01520.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIbmi0IW9ReFwYy53EKsC5fY0dVCIJzjlAYhhLG0qVA7yzxVUMg1r-Tc4soqmZGW74Uz4bnjSHxoeBqhyphenhyphenqz5np8jgjmK-9aAeMfgb5ZA2j7Yda0_jvwIhajSKdGLSSp5WUbvctEyv-cSM/s320/DSC01520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417554633836033810" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Smurf-arina.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBx0CGtBcjIOr_ehaVRVxSBiWsIRxCh5T6pRckgKTpz5HvY6fiB-hKAU65rF1BnXsySpMU16dSKYAhvcC0RFMdyNVaNsXCxK2Z4JpxW7J8-y2q0dH-JF97It1tgm6nseJICwgO5zIhT4/s1600-h/DSC01325.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBx0CGtBcjIOr_ehaVRVxSBiWsIRxCh5T6pRckgKTpz5HvY6fiB-hKAU65rF1BnXsySpMU16dSKYAhvcC0RFMdyNVaNsXCxK2Z4JpxW7J8-y2q0dH-JF97It1tgm6nseJICwgO5zIhT4/s320/DSC01325.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417555696507589762" border="0" /></a>Calvin Klein was sighted, and a well-coordinated couple posed amiably. Some "ladies" really know how to accessorize...(left).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AOYd3n-YEIIbRxfDvVoXTOnZjyfGmk1aAs7fFkZvzQzPMsyvYntHOIAhkVEqSZH90fOmvXjDfsaVTBek2qRHcYdQn9TH2xgvXZuunLvZf3pAxZmeG4CQzV0abjyQO8sxmU-DG4matvI/s1600-h/DSC01315.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AOYd3n-YEIIbRxfDvVoXTOnZjyfGmk1aAs7fFkZvzQzPMsyvYntHOIAhkVEqSZH90fOmvXjDfsaVTBek2qRHcYdQn9TH2xgvXZuunLvZf3pAxZmeG4CQzV0abjyQO8sxmU-DG4matvI/s200/DSC01315.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417556147206995666" border="0" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrf7A1KfXoUKbHgSPgyEdxXy22RKS9Pmd3hmFcr8rDx8gcIVzU5lm1fwM_9AgO4fFNNZnHfKZeennoxVmyxJuBtdSMyacJYy_9AZuyqXqNp-curEMV9fAMKMlc4eFoDSdkUY7hbRWDOM/s1600-h/DSC01529.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZrf7A1KfXoUKbHgSPgyEdxXy22RKS9Pmd3hmFcr8rDx8gcIVzU5lm1fwM_9AgO4fFNNZnHfKZeennoxVmyxJuBtdSMyacJYy_9AZuyqXqNp-curEMV9fAMKMlc4eFoDSdkUY7hbRWDOM/s320/DSC01529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417556983427736754" border="0" /></a>Spiderella made an appearance (right), and of course requisite shoe fetishists could not be disappointed--the woman below left was ensconced in skintight shiny spandex leggings (are there any other kind?) and an equal length of platform shoe.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1QqP5YqZGrqHPcIYVaWX9bFTqi62ESGR2PUYhKRROq-T5CWSzd2oy6PTS96dM94GZvDgC7B6s82LqlQZpKRSWaVMIC5WJJ7FkL8Y7hfuECtoIWpWEMy00qYU5wf5ad-q1f0btaBBdpc/s1600-h/DSC01519.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1QqP5YqZGrqHPcIYVaWX9bFTqi62ESGR2PUYhKRROq-T5CWSzd2oy6PTS96dM94GZvDgC7B6s82LqlQZpKRSWaVMIC5WJJ7FkL8Y7hfuECtoIWpWEMy00qYU5wf5ad-q1f0btaBBdpc/s320/DSC01519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417557294914250386" border="0" /></a> A bit more New York-Carrie Bradshaw was on display at one of the numerous parties held at the hotels on the ocean. Miraculously the pink graffitti Louis Vuittons below were not forced to endure any unpleasant sand, as they VIP'd their way into the bar area.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqsfUVAQzOOlbfvtEvAtYR92E5xLU4dbL3L-I9tUrsGlFyDwcnXXkAkWaYotVK8UvTSrCV9UMo4cUYHKMP1PxIe866QttfesVkvhVfCkhXSP17ZkyJ1r3cJlhrnJBfNTAcSsg-Du2B5k/s1600-h/DSC01754.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqsfUVAQzOOlbfvtEvAtYR92E5xLU4dbL3L-I9tUrsGlFyDwcnXXkAkWaYotVK8UvTSrCV9UMo4cUYHKMP1PxIe866QttfesVkvhVfCkhXSP17ZkyJ1r3cJlhrnJBfNTAcSsg-Du2B5k/s320/DSC01754.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417558968797348274" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFefRexLwyuydVJDBCRv4VjsRQhkh_StuDpo58jCGc2mG7C3Mc_3Nj_k4aYkSArfETmm8JVqM-BezwY_gWaSdsjqNjxIDH5WYV5y0wD2YCUFViqNyotF2ILcwAnuDM6y350Qth7QwaWGQ/s1600-h/DSC01753.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFefRexLwyuydVJDBCRv4VjsRQhkh_StuDpo58jCGc2mG7C3Mc_3Nj_k4aYkSArfETmm8JVqM-BezwY_gWaSdsjqNjxIDH5WYV5y0wD2YCUFViqNyotF2ILcwAnuDM6y350Qth7QwaWGQ/s320/DSC01753.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417559442965080306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Matching couple at the Pulse fair below:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyGLA4LmkBe3o2MFe3P_qtwMwj8qNbA_1S82dmJJC9xaARBrxFfhgz93-x-MJ6I9ufswUMnVukrQmDKIeLkWjCuvMhSb5zuD-8upiwTAh1ORj8B9HXY9zDCejGCONk7NVo9MrC0V_drc/s1600-h/DSC01720.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyGLA4LmkBe3o2MFe3P_qtwMwj8qNbA_1S82dmJJC9xaARBrxFfhgz93-x-MJ6I9ufswUMnVukrQmDKIeLkWjCuvMhSb5zuD-8upiwTAh1ORj8B9HXY9zDCejGCONk7NVo9MrC0V_drc/s200/DSC01720.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417560020084332642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />And, in a segment I have been dying to start, the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bcaOhxg5buKQkZXQIV7VUKUsOa53kCHSOLVUvfTGQcAhucjdP2EN9Uwkqaezp3t3c1gCFhTbyFz_NUaTEVVda5JKmVAe5x83-p3CxOI6NA1fwIkb1HgU6-KSpnRn9Ak0C3lDNvNaUBY/s1600-h/DSC01711.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bcaOhxg5buKQkZXQIV7VUKUsOa53kCHSOLVUvfTGQcAhucjdP2EN9Uwkqaezp3t3c1gCFhTbyFz_NUaTEVVda5JKmVAe5x83-p3CxOI6NA1fwIkb1HgU6-KSpnRn9Ak0C3lDNvNaUBY/s200/DSC01711.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417560666006264546" border="0" /></a>"What Not To Wear" section: I photographed this anonymous couple browsing at Art Miami from the back, in order to hide the fanny packs. Hawaiian shirt--check. White socks, brown sandals--check. Matching couple--check. Perhaps this segment should be renamed: "How Not to Match".Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-82641537079797862432009-12-07T13:21:00.000-08:002009-12-10T11:58:23.841-08:00Pulse/NADA/Photo/ArtMiami/Scope/Aqua/Verge...oh my!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggfQwUtyCuMzEFTZj2oyHOsqeVo-wDjA3bpcZNM8SOULB-p70MoXOOIqozEEG2IjOqvjJeQX4cIQ4m8H6ZgY3rTXm2z5vDh1a_hyphenhyphenHfTqdPqxOy3zVZ-V2XVeQSuxxHu-urSXl4ncOD1Jw/s1600-h/DSC01548.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggfQwUtyCuMzEFTZj2oyHOsqeVo-wDjA3bpcZNM8SOULB-p70MoXOOIqozEEG2IjOqvjJeQX4cIQ4m8H6ZgY3rTXm2z5vDh1a_hyphenhyphenHfTqdPqxOy3zVZ-V2XVeQSuxxHu-urSXl4ncOD1Jw/s320/DSC01548.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412619338294446994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Wanda Koop at Michael Gibson Gallery, Toronto, Scope.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_RpsS7gvApn97j6Wac-eaDxIYWfMYYEP-RHE6xE4v39qY4PayKjB2_FZknLrzGg_sUL4_zMGGb-aLcpg4wmZVYbnjJbs5Pc95rF_rDFrbuUSthgGJt-s6ez9kKYann06Uz4ZMhSl7tA/s1600-h/DSC01531.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_RpsS7gvApn97j6Wac-eaDxIYWfMYYEP-RHE6xE4v39qY4PayKjB2_FZknLrzGg_sUL4_zMGGb-aLcpg4wmZVYbnjJbs5Pc95rF_rDFrbuUSthgGJt-s6ez9kKYann06Uz4ZMhSl7tA/s200/DSC01531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412621463643321522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The painting on the left is exactly how I felt as I finished walking through Scope and Aqua. Two art fairs that last year had been among my favorites, shrank and eliminated many good galleries. Aqua got rid of their lovely hotel location, and the current Wynwood location had so many garish works that by the time I had walked through I had forgotten the good ones. Among the better, were Toronto's Michael Gibson Gallery, featuring a quiet and haunting painting by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Wanda Koop</span> of the "Miracle on the Hudson"- an event that quickly became a Hallmark-card media spectacle, but in paint brought back the haunting lonely frisson of near-death it once was. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_EJFl12HmxYBJQgfFFbPmLcwr0qGNSxdrP0uiBTkJZ7ebgpN46JAHyFroEvBJ030-uRPvwXo4LR_q1v3fKhrQ-rf7lNv_4osft47oLIUoj4iPOH1xAp4-IYzO70YEsDRBkk_azNlpMg/s1600-h/DSC01545.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_EJFl12HmxYBJQgfFFbPmLcwr0qGNSxdrP0uiBTkJZ7ebgpN46JAHyFroEvBJ030-uRPvwXo4LR_q1v3fKhrQ-rf7lNv_4osft47oLIUoj4iPOH1xAp4-IYzO70YEsDRBkk_azNlpMg/s200/DSC01545.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412622849524494386" border="0" /></a>Another standout was <span style="font-weight: bold;">Megan Whitmarsh</span>'s oddball embroidery and painting mash-ups, at Michael Rosenthal.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMonO3vMk15A5I8VmCNaVqz4qqWg9U9pxQyyBBC8sOQB8UcREYfVvZMki0PnZ3SonNQD6i_6GrjD2vCZwmETcw_32vOWmxdfz46Cngm_Cb9JNeloBB-lc1O1bR-6ITFuIMFjTEAHz3F4/s1600-h/DSC01549.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMonO3vMk15A5I8VmCNaVqz4qqWg9U9pxQyyBBC8sOQB8UcREYfVvZMki0PnZ3SonNQD6i_6GrjD2vCZwmETcw_32vOWmxdfz46Cngm_Cb9JNeloBB-lc1O1bR-6ITFuIMFjTEAHz3F4/s200/DSC01549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412631062542004898" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Megan Whitmarsh "Crystal Expanse" at Michael Rosenthal, Scope.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Guerra de la Paz at Carol Jazzar, Scope.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Scope</span> was also barren of good booths, with even the best galleries playing it safe and bringing rather ho-hum works. Recession specials were not in everyone's favor. <span>Carol Jazzar</span> and ADA stood out, with 3-d work by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Guerra de la Paz</span> and Jen Stark, and Chris Verene's idiosyncratic photography and a crazy collection of cats by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Scott Hewicker</span> respectively.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivG35skox3qHZ48hiKXLMpj8hot5n_mpmBb0U_CzBa3pt3hbVBho8NKCdIL2Je_2Fg4nypGPhHRHl7z7q_A8aKhxtsT1mQXtcKsGURPa5wbw3N9AJsGTkNX2FMwyKWiNLliHA4yx1hH_Y/s1600-h/DSC01555.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivG35skox3qHZ48hiKXLMpj8hot5n_mpmBb0U_CzBa3pt3hbVBho8NKCdIL2Je_2Fg4nypGPhHRHl7z7q_A8aKhxtsT1mQXtcKsGURPa5wbw3N9AJsGTkNX2FMwyKWiNLliHA4yx1hH_Y/s320/DSC01555.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412634150836244514" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Scott Hewicker at ADA, Scope.</span><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjx-CyAkfRA9-kjrKAu_hYW7m84bA9DXJydTlhM9vZnZhmmdxXPFb6gDzR_7X7gUit5QsA-KcCVl4pw6jHCPlmBRGFz974yyQe6BeuvPbZAQ9SgOrcWjaqvJBSRkAIQ_cvUYi_xd09MZo/s1600-h/DSC01595.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjx-CyAkfRA9-kjrKAu_hYW7m84bA9DXJydTlhM9vZnZhmmdxXPFb6gDzR_7X7gUit5QsA-KcCVl4pw6jHCPlmBRGFz974yyQe6BeuvPbZAQ9SgOrcWjaqvJBSRkAIQ_cvUYi_xd09MZo/s320/DSC01595.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412641551901359554" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Okay Mountain Corner Store, Pulse.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pulse</span> won out for Most Improved Fair, gaining a better space (no more sand floors!), more solid galleries, and a terrific music program taking full advantage of their courtyard space at NADA's former location. With 104 galleries, Pulse managed somehow to still feel organized and leisurely. A highlight of the Impulse section (for solo exhibitions) was the hand-made bodega at Austin's <span style="font-weight: bold;">Okay Mountain</span> collaborative gallery. With products for sale, all created by hand, it hit the sweet spot of art-world humor (Dzamacolors "for art school kids to use when they're making those rip-off Marcel Dzama paintings") and silly fun (Old Stanky kitty litter).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYM_qFSmH_1Yaep15dbmHLRpDP80IOCrsttpmaQesBMWRon_x5Z1F_R9YOFOIgoThUGMm2dJHdzVXfQSBiCEImRAyGs392s7LQUGNjJRGa7SEByIfDLhfslJSGDcakcwMxm34hdeWIBNg/s1600-h/DSC01580.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYM_qFSmH_1Yaep15dbmHLRpDP80IOCrsttpmaQesBMWRon_x5Z1F_R9YOFOIgoThUGMm2dJHdzVXfQSBiCEImRAyGs392s7LQUGNjJRGa7SEByIfDLhfslJSGDcakcwMxm34hdeWIBNg/s320/DSC01580.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412643055200723938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Devin Strother, "Drunken Bitches Fighting in the Bathroom" detail, Richard Heller, Pulse. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Devin Strother</span>, a young artist at Richard Heller, showed cut-out figures in manic scenes, slyly playing with devilish racial stereotypes. Cut paper was used to quite different effect in Natasha Bowdoin's elegant layered paintings at CTRL Gallery in Houston. DCKT, Kopeikin, Fred, and Mark Moore Gallery all had strong carefully thought-out curated booths; i.e. London's Fred Gallery presented works by artists from the African diaspora--though one wouldn't necessarily guess it from the variety of works. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IJXvLyj9GhACDjNlmkDyAsLJLlZOl722GVd03U9-Zj5UQjCP_rj6YVavdTshfWzczI4K2Q3I-Un4wgE8TFonmj7i-VB0R2hKJmRM1Nqd4Vj541N8f2PdB7Uwd7PyDAATryKgkLcJyQs/s1600-h/DSC01603.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IJXvLyj9GhACDjNlmkDyAsLJLlZOl722GVd03U9-Zj5UQjCP_rj6YVavdTshfWzczI4K2Q3I-Un4wgE8TFonmj7i-VB0R2hKJmRM1Nqd4Vj541N8f2PdB7Uwd7PyDAATryKgkLcJyQs/s320/DSC01603.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412651319509667586" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Steve Viezens</span> had paintings and quirky drawings in a star-shaped layout at the booth of Galerie Kleindienst from Liepzig, another strong booth (no surprise given the famous art school there).<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Steve Viezens at Galerie Kleindienst, Pulse.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXy19AHn-WpilB372k9gjsLSzF2nJnYrww88_n7ePqpNtLv-gZv0Eoe4pP0AnOf7xxUh3iip4-4t-GPABfEeXuWiHhjvXI2Crv7L7maU-bxHB6bThUZNiXChzhWrNFnAclmzsl6S54pL0/s1600-h/DSC01719.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXy19AHn-WpilB372k9gjsLSzF2nJnYrww88_n7ePqpNtLv-gZv0Eoe4pP0AnOf7xxUh3iip4-4t-GPABfEeXuWiHhjvXI2Crv7L7maU-bxHB6bThUZNiXChzhWrNFnAclmzsl6S54pL0/s320/DSC01719.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412654834000559218" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: happy reveler, post-Exene Cervenka performance at Pulse.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQaij4UPfmHdI29kPau7RrBlpbJij_nx8Kd0B_LI6RdMLjWBj0_PnyeWS7SypJFqdFwb_gY_m4zHcsDYKHbGXpzwxqSEUHb3rsu8AoZzpWwE-5H9ADCcln_NMv0k0dVSlkm7xyAbWW9oo/s1600-h/DSC01688.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQaij4UPfmHdI29kPau7RrBlpbJij_nx8Kd0B_LI6RdMLjWBj0_PnyeWS7SypJFqdFwb_gY_m4zHcsDYKHbGXpzwxqSEUHb3rsu8AoZzpWwE-5H9ADCcln_NMv0k0dVSlkm7xyAbWW9oo/s320/DSC01688.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412661384305303938" border="0" /></a>At <span style="font-weight: bold;">Photo Miami</span>, the booths shrank by two thirds, leaving a spartan arrangement of 26 galleries. However, for the most part it was for the best-- fewer flower studies and giant female nudes, more thoughtful or historic work. Large constructed photographs of a fictional African town called Udongo, dealt with post-colonial history and Western concepts of Africa by Jasper de Beijer at TZR Galerie Kai Bruckner. Nearby, classically composed photographs from 1970s beaches gave us the opposite--a taste of the visually familiar, but with a Mexican twist, courtesy of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Carlos Perez Siquier</span> at Galeria Sandunga <span style="font-style: italic;">(right)</span>. A vibrant booth from China--MR Gallery-- with classical documentary black and white images by a handful of artists, provided welcome relief from Art Asia's Vegas-y commercial fare.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUoc2u37QDnCsHA9v2HmOEFOAvORx2H9Yjzz8R6Cf2UZX-cL5GgTpf2sXguhJm-o6pmTWc2dMLBI_3zS6InOtEq2PrR-ThUjyhx6EVCyyUMMHQdppssJlLAnNIavG4LBmWKDvT2tRyhPs/s1600-h/DSC01717.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUoc2u37QDnCsHA9v2HmOEFOAvORx2H9Yjzz8R6Cf2UZX-cL5GgTpf2sXguhJm-o6pmTWc2dMLBI_3zS6InOtEq2PrR-ThUjyhx6EVCyyUMMHQdppssJlLAnNIavG4LBmWKDvT2tRyhPs/s320/DSC01717.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412665539950743074" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Comfortable man being comforted by comfortable art at ArtMiami.</span><br /><br />At nearby <span style="font-weight: bold;">Art Miami</span>, bright halogen lights and gleaming concrete floors created a soothing environment, and the art similarly didn't want to cause any discomfort. While I saw some great art, including Zhang Huan photos at Barry Friedman, and iceberg photos by Olaf Otto Becker at Amador Gallery, the overall effect was of a gentle sea breeze.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1BJaI_2ea3QaWjAD5uI-swVD4MxS7Y8_jGnh9rW3rBxJOimyGxS57BUd99P22Ti8A4bT72XIKLI7rKDwONUdgCP450f0nE45edWVlWk5mp1KqYFjdmxmMcy7UWe0vGPq-OGqKwaWweI/s1600-h/DSC01642.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1BJaI_2ea3QaWjAD5uI-swVD4MxS7Y8_jGnh9rW3rBxJOimyGxS57BUd99P22Ti8A4bT72XIKLI7rKDwONUdgCP450f0nE45edWVlWk5mp1KqYFjdmxmMcy7UWe0vGPq-OGqKwaWweI/s320/DSC01642.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412676952519273554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And finally, my visit to <span style="font-weight: bold;">NADA</span> provided a welcome pause to the madness. NADA chose an anachronistic resort a few miles north of Art Basel, replete with chandeliers, ballrooms named after famous French leaders (Napoleon, Richelieu), and a pool aching for hipsters to swim in their skinny bikinis <span style="font-style: italic;">(right)</span>. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgft0FEmm1JEvwk8J6iKJGKuoKTHcekhcRhF0JqwLDV5jyfVZkE0MN5gcHxz5n-mmq47z4xt5Jv8Gg0clRKP7MuPqho1qMAmEKRMAIXm8iz6uk1d2nfKM58hhEt-AMBEfnw5752Ne3qiEA/s1600-h/DSC01658.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgft0FEmm1JEvwk8J6iKJGKuoKTHcekhcRhF0JqwLDV5jyfVZkE0MN5gcHxz5n-mmq47z4xt5Jv8Gg0clRKP7MuPqho1qMAmEKRMAIXm8iz6uk1d2nfKM58hhEt-AMBEfnw5752Ne3qiEA/s320/DSC01658.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412677647992979282" border="0" /></a>Also, a baristas from Intelligentsia Coffee plied their wares midway through the ballrooms, and who could resist such steam-punk cuties<span style="font-style: italic;"> (left)</span>?<br /><br />Art-wise, NADA had dealers beaming with delight, as booths were both full of visitors and high-quality, especially the Lower East Side galleries. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRU7GyU7jy2aPc8AWnz0CsX2DcG95XG8e2a5lkzyUwwub124u7zSvmf1WPWRzjGySUs6uj9-P9rgAlycW76ro9FVAEPTIR2EG2N1mT3i-_q7I0ixSwer0mZknU8EuG9-WD6GHwR_2VlI/s1600-h/DSC01648.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRU7GyU7jy2aPc8AWnz0CsX2DcG95XG8e2a5lkzyUwwub124u7zSvmf1WPWRzjGySUs6uj9-P9rgAlycW76ro9FVAEPTIR2EG2N1mT3i-_q7I0ixSwer0mZknU8EuG9-WD6GHwR_2VlI/s320/DSC01648.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412681554285431842" border="0" /></a>Collette Blanchard showed an installation by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Derrick Adams</span> including a performance, as well as glittery paintings based on the musical the Wiz. Lisa Cooley featured a bureau stabbed multiple times in the back, and a knit sculpture by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Josh Faught</span>.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeyrLx7n0wMnzDHKsUa4JfHrwm4apKwLoLXD4wGDdxkGqX9T2vEg8saG8xnhoWS1n50v6w7GILO4vjOW9EYd-dd8OrEqRDv73d1SouJqtiWARn4ujI3YMcJsRNhcbsoQSCCFOD-wqvzI/s1600-h/DSC01623.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeyrLx7n0wMnzDHKsUa4JfHrwm4apKwLoLXD4wGDdxkGqX9T2vEg8saG8xnhoWS1n50v6w7GILO4vjOW9EYd-dd8OrEqRDv73d1SouJqtiWARn4ujI3YMcJsRNhcbsoQSCCFOD-wqvzI/s320/DSC01623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412692869402195826" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Derrick Adams at Collette Blanchard, NADA.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Josh Faught at Lisa Cooley, NADA.</span><br /></div><br /><br />British galleries were quite good, as London's Man and Eve showed tiny cut paper delicacies by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sarah Bridgland</span>, perhaps a tad too cute, but riding the overall trend for cut-paper sculptures and collage. Josh Lilley Gallery also had a strong show of Christof Mascher and <span>Vicky Wright</span>, whose oddly light washes on unprimed backs of panels created an ominous cloud when seen from afar.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VVp0Ht8L2j_bKua9DSxHQNJXvKCS-XCxPYYbdkwJ9L6MhZwmXT21zGlZIt5wldEgBH-yqPyvKZFdFtZXnZyXiWVikVRS1xxKQQvAqGoYK65tCwRv0sE86F1iulGLeEFiSVRATdXCyaE/s1600-h/DSC01608.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VVp0Ht8L2j_bKua9DSxHQNJXvKCS-XCxPYYbdkwJ9L6MhZwmXT21zGlZIt5wldEgBH-yqPyvKZFdFtZXnZyXiWVikVRS1xxKQQvAqGoYK65tCwRv0sE86F1iulGLeEFiSVRATdXCyaE/s320/DSC01608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412679582994235842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Sarah Bridgland, at Man and Eve, NADA.</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-87ZDS-fA0ubME9NU_m1gwiChLuE6AlrXu2pUVlXNinpETmxkvyZxgFO5zITA3S1U5UFSv7SHeXeSQ6hp-VHn0gusu7VsOvmhJq9H_XOSeWjQT9rhDCQqSitbJdZ8o6Rb3UY2_DYfyM/s1600-h/DSC01646.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-87ZDS-fA0ubME9NU_m1gwiChLuE6AlrXu2pUVlXNinpETmxkvyZxgFO5zITA3S1U5UFSv7SHeXeSQ6hp-VHn0gusu7VsOvmhJq9H_XOSeWjQT9rhDCQqSitbJdZ8o6Rb3UY2_DYfyM/s320/DSC01646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412686877170923522" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Another fabulous shoe/dress combination.<br /><br />Below: a restful view courtesy of NADA's Deauville Beach Resort.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLnW0OGiUWTp-wduOKunroQLOa1NNFBhNStzKcmrm1-X41_HYdkLyYSxdKuHWsq7m6O4p8pEGpG7qLKF8SJWgHyjScSR_SECXGQnZPSjAyVWuiFghm_g92FkhQWhmEnd59zy3Lcn66Kjs/s1600-h/DSC01663.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLnW0OGiUWTp-wduOKunroQLOa1NNFBhNStzKcmrm1-X41_HYdkLyYSxdKuHWsq7m6O4p8pEGpG7qLKF8SJWgHyjScSR_SECXGQnZPSjAyVWuiFghm_g92FkhQWhmEnd59zy3Lcn66Kjs/s320/DSC01663.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412693938165926386" border="0" /></a>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3591764981362963964.post-56658982362047783482009-12-07T10:46:00.000-08:002009-12-08T06:16:12.020-08:00Art Basel 2009- "The Second Act"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMXacrB8IIe0mMqcbpm9fieCIls49gKTw6eCWtRmYPh5fNIfO8tAEBYukUD9x1Irhu74KP2brr_KRVvBdROXlrHPiBqrx7Mb3JprW6jTcocdsk7Dpl_8kmbO2RVz7Pp8r7c09Q4y1-hU/s1600-h/DSC01446.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMXacrB8IIe0mMqcbpm9fieCIls49gKTw6eCWtRmYPh5fNIfO8tAEBYukUD9x1Irhu74KP2brr_KRVvBdROXlrHPiBqrx7Mb3JprW6jTcocdsk7Dpl_8kmbO2RVz7Pp8r7c09Q4y1-hU/s320/DSC01446.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412568358849186370" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Jack Pierson "The Second Act" at Regen Projects.<br /><br />Below right: Doug Aitken's "Free".<br /><br /></span>This year's <span style="font-weight: bold;">Art Basel</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Miami</span> was full of proclamations: large textual sculptures which, strung together, could easily portend statements about the art market this year. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v1pQbJI0iQRBbw4gppx2ldnCqMPGhRHXHoqXOUU5RdzR-JEt_rlhduMMTeanvjdynRikMmlr_z8Cq-1e3Jqnwk9dsj1MBamGlKwvBu0AEhFcxKg1eTr-1c_ppdiG9ViaWHSJxcYZjB4/s1600-h/DSC01766.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_v1pQbJI0iQRBbw4gppx2ldnCqMPGhRHXHoqXOUU5RdzR-JEt_rlhduMMTeanvjdynRikMmlr_z8Cq-1e3Jqnwk9dsj1MBamGlKwvBu0AEhFcxKg1eTr-1c_ppdiG9ViaWHSJxcYZjB4/s200/DSC01766.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412586858086849138" border="0" /></a>A gigantic “DESIRE” filled one booth, a “PORN” revamped Robert Indiana’s famous “Love”, and “FREE” by Doug Aitken had a photo of wreckage within. Peres Projects featured Don Attoe’s neon figures along with phrases, most potently “We’re all here because we’re too afraid to deal with problems in our real lives” atop men’s heads watching a stripper at her pole. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6zo8DCPta_3hW3tf5UUqS1qPw2cWhWWUhEem5XILde-xSeKmPSVL-S2qEdbS30HT7WOQaxOfLM9GyGhs7Uczo6oq5lDWEU5ZS8CH4y7UDcFgA2uj6-OEu_7_JkyFIcfl-isGhzYCiCM/s1600-h/DSC01469.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6zo8DCPta_3hW3tf5UUqS1qPw2cWhWWUhEem5XILde-xSeKmPSVL-S2qEdbS30HT7WOQaxOfLM9GyGhs7Uczo6oq5lDWEU5ZS8CH4y7UDcFgA2uj6-OEu_7_JkyFIcfl-isGhzYCiCM/s320/DSC01469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412571089128745346" border="0" /></a><br />Additionally, we had “The Second Act” by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Jack Pierson</span>, certainly a comment on how quickly the art market has rebounded from the doldrums of last year. The neon “After” aglow behind <span style="font-weight: bold;">Philippe Parreno’</span>s "Marquee" lights, showed that afterlife was just across the way, seen through the entryway of celebrity/film idol-worship. Perhaps last year’s purgatory has led not to Hell but to a slightly adjusted Heaven of smaller fairs, but still healthy appetites.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGf6PdhH3dzhFwg5qTcl3_syhQgQLZkOpYT5RpVa_KA3sVApvT5Nau5JmhdI9WcWGMooYF53NOl_JBbYNgly_4lTiHZHdMX8TODv_6PtW6mz-7hK-aMfNOXywqwpNF8FNcV1Ke2a4pam8/s1600-h/DSC01496.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGf6PdhH3dzhFwg5qTcl3_syhQgQLZkOpYT5RpVa_KA3sVApvT5Nau5JmhdI9WcWGMooYF53NOl_JBbYNgly_4lTiHZHdMX8TODv_6PtW6mz-7hK-aMfNOXywqwpNF8FNcV1Ke2a4pam8/s200/DSC01496.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412571677529185922" border="0" /></a> One overheard snippet: "...but I have 30-foot ceilings!" from a happy purchaser.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Marc Bijl "Porn" at Breeder.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Above right: Philippe Pareno "Marquee" at Esther Schipper.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Below right: Jonathon Monk "Gold Bubbles" at Yvon Lambert.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Szsex7tSD4eLm50TwhjnhXeSmPYvPipniTnORn_dKtj0f82dvTxmgKogQfmyOlr9nOw19AqNRv9evRRNJ0qgtc54FXDJWoUhF8PCW5exXA-SIIyOwowSh7S3DUy0ukNgZikrrBeOx9Y/s1600-h/DSC01480.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Szsex7tSD4eLm50TwhjnhXeSmPYvPipniTnORn_dKtj0f82dvTxmgKogQfmyOlr9nOw19AqNRv9evRRNJ0qgtc54FXDJWoUhF8PCW5exXA-SIIyOwowSh7S3DUy0ukNgZikrrBeOx9Y/s200/DSC01480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412575854023814962" border="0" /></a>Indeed celebrity reared its ugly head quite often in Miami. Richard Prince had a row of pencil sketches of Zac Efron and similar teen idols. The Obamas were featured in Annie Leibowitz photos, and in large paintings by Kurt Kauper at Deitch. But most prominently, Michael Jackson was the real star of Art Basel. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSfJ5r2oX7-KjAQFn89PdAb6pokW4SsYrn8Pn_fZn9rPwE6IBjexx3GpoCwPbq-2v8mPUz_8YzIo4FV1BTRaLn8BLcMjwl0gvTx7JoF-Wyypv143h2EZcT92uYGeKMWXhn1KKM9ihDI0/s1600-h/DSC01787.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVSfJ5r2oX7-KjAQFn89PdAb6pokW4SsYrn8Pn_fZn9rPwE6IBjexx3GpoCwPbq-2v8mPUz_8YzIo4FV1BTRaLn8BLcMjwl0gvTx7JoF-Wyypv143h2EZcT92uYGeKMWXhn1KKM9ihDI0/s320/DSC01787.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412574902137937266" border="0" /></a>His beatific likeness found its way into a triptych by David LaChappelle at Tony Shafrazi, including one of “Archangel Michael”, and a giant Kehinde Wiley equestrian painting of MJ as King Philip, commissioned before the artists’ death and completed afterwards, much to the happiness of Deitch’s cash registers. A faceless MJ could be seen in both a 3-inch cardboard painting by Gideon Rubin, and painting of MJ with his chimp by Jonathan Monk. But my favorite MJ painting was by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Jeff Sonhouse</span> of the singer as seen from the back, with odd colored lights, and one rhinestoned glove held out in his signature pose, showing us the paradox of celebrity worship: we think we know all based on a celebrity’s ubiquity, and yet he is forever unknowable.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Jeff Sonhouse "The Loved Gloved One" at Tilton Gallery, LA.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUrxDqJMwmZwJ_BEHjPpDB1oFHPp8nevCWdfxNswAfq-3qQFHYwwySSbLeHkcuQyFOUITlGJRbep-ENgAD6cbbJ6NW47FLD3I-RDDWxCh1Z9LfeAVCVNM3eDpKAu1h_BFCZ43tp8eGOU/s1600-h/DSC01431.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUrxDqJMwmZwJ_BEHjPpDB1oFHPp8nevCWdfxNswAfq-3qQFHYwwySSbLeHkcuQyFOUITlGJRbep-ENgAD6cbbJ6NW47FLD3I-RDDWxCh1Z9LfeAVCVNM3eDpKAu1h_BFCZ43tp8eGOU/s320/DSC01431.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412578876747880098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Agathe Snow sculptures at James Fuentes, LLC, New York.</span><br /><br />This year Art Basel changed its configuration, confusing and frustrating many artgoers (including me), but on the plus side, it moved newer galleries from the containers on the beach to the convention center into a section called <span style="font-weight: bold;">Art Nova</span>. For the most part, these galleries capitalized on their new location, and certain galleries stood out; James Fuentes with his all-over wallpaper and crazy sculptures by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Agathe Snow,</span> Canada with a quiet threesome of paintings by Joe Bradley, Andrew Edlin had an old-timey booth with Brent Green, and Miguel Abreu with thick paintings by Pieter Schoolwerth. Gavlak, a Florida gallery, featured surreal collages of people with neon colored plants instead of heads, and sculptures of sinking houses by Philip Estlund, proving that not everything is shiny and happy in that sunny state.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSb-f-jD0JffeoDzZrgm31ADJN-j8Nqa489_xON_i7fAxy6jH3kSzz1YPuYSXvNUy7mSeHNcEeyXnBNb411sx1oaFUKU7Vd0PdXTwfeJ_Z0p_ulvpxE7ZXn5073eOp6olgVDveVWpLtk/s1600-h/DSC01492.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSb-f-jD0JffeoDzZrgm31ADJN-j8Nqa489_xON_i7fAxy6jH3kSzz1YPuYSXvNUy7mSeHNcEeyXnBNb411sx1oaFUKU7Vd0PdXTwfeJ_Z0p_ulvpxE7ZXn5073eOp6olgVDveVWpLtk/s320/DSC01492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412583514991712530" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Lorraine O'Grady at Alexander Gray, NY.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbi51p4C5Y3fR-yErh3wZvzWybxwaZpueJQuK5Q_6k_Ic-7NOJPRuw7isJrFlRi400tFhvIJrwhyphenhyphenHMhn1WkSPnviFFHt2lIcDj99Zfu32GHReqKrGguMcMBKSDMfIzEMsDQyCGDgSloQ/s1600-h/DSC01463.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbi51p4C5Y3fR-yErh3wZvzWybxwaZpueJQuK5Q_6k_Ic-7NOJPRuw7isJrFlRi400tFhvIJrwhyphenhyphenHMhn1WkSPnviFFHt2lIcDj99Zfu32GHReqKrGguMcMBKSDMfIzEMsDQyCGDgSloQ/s320/DSC01463.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412585169912234418" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Mickalene Thomas, "Photomontage8" detail, at Rhona Hoffman, Chicago.</span><br /><br />Alexandre Gray's booth featuring work by <span style="font-weight: bold;">Lorraine O'Grady </span>had a great feeling to it. Bridging work from an older era showed how O'Grady's work conceptually and stylistically preceded that of Lorna Simpson, Carrie Mae Weems, and even the more photographic work of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mickalene Thomas</span>, the latter two artists featured at Basel as well. O'Grady had a series of photographs of Harlem, where participants held frames in various poses, and the work felt as fresh and organic now as it must have in the 1980's. Thomas, more familiar as a painter, had stacks of 80's-era frames and black and white photos within, making an interesting sculptural link to her work.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakhkQgtl0pHQfYR49gOWlRzs8U6aWzWK0tJxhz3rSjw3ONcWZzUjxxK2cuik0CmCr4PQQolSoqCv4ZinvUygGM7d4PcZrLx4nQW6jB7WLyG2gfa0IQw9Z4hfCVcNhrEAZdkMFktRSXa8/s1600-h/DSC01427.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakhkQgtl0pHQfYR49gOWlRzs8U6aWzWK0tJxhz3rSjw3ONcWZzUjxxK2cuik0CmCr4PQQolSoqCv4ZinvUygGM7d4PcZrLx4nQW6jB7WLyG2gfa0IQw9Z4hfCVcNhrEAZdkMFktRSXa8/s320/DSC01427.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412595884505134866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Robin Rhode "Pan's Opticon Studies".</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Robin Rhode </span>had work featured in at least three galleries, including a black and white series of photos at Neils Borch Jensen Galerie. This artist is continuing his seeminlgy endless investigation of movement, performance, sculpture, and painting, creating his own hybrid by inventing new ways to document mark-making via the body, i.e. hitting a ball with paint and then photographing the results in a series.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVG6zc8wu6_arH55H_T_R-CdDLYhhN7TzCx0rs8lYdPvN6n4WDJJqwhsEqcrx2aicgxozdJFBq8cOEkeFP9k60Dy8TSNUwkVOYU06QMypVZmsG9-viwewL4BwSddrd0rXCpOG-phUElA/s1600-h/DSC01363.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 118px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuVG6zc8wu6_arH55H_T_R-CdDLYhhN7TzCx0rs8lYdPvN6n4WDJJqwhsEqcrx2aicgxozdJFBq8cOEkeFP9k60Dy8TSNUwkVOYU06QMypVZmsG9-viwewL4BwSddrd0rXCpOG-phUElA/s200/DSC01363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412588589087781154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUR1R2s8ri8y7lNBCWCDznYZRcKxWzOH3PeqoS2K0APtQg26h7a_wki-QZYbDM5fj5L7CIs2KPl_NcrycWlWNlhBagxmHvOkLC350IoY5CHHxhMlPyi8fHjV2_b6wa4OKlsmmSqYNYHNY/s1600-h/DSC01346.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUR1R2s8ri8y7lNBCWCDznYZRcKxWzOH3PeqoS2K0APtQg26h7a_wki-QZYbDM5fj5L7CIs2KPl_NcrycWlWNlhBagxmHvOkLC350IoY5CHHxhMlPyi8fHjV2_b6wa4OKlsmmSqYNYHNY/s320/DSC01346.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412586322849742738" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: artist Hans Peter Hoffman in front of his work at Galerie Jamileh Weber.</span><br /></div><br />Sartorially, the men at Art Basel fared better than the women, as one artist matched his family crest flags, [<span style="font-weight: bold;">Hans Peter Hoffman</span>] while another cooly strolled past a yet-more graphic painting <span style="font-style: italic;">(left)</span>. Proving that art fairs make for fascinating outfit/art combinations, a woman enlivened <span style="font-weight: bold;">Shephard Fairey</span>'s communist propaganda portrait of Aung San Suu Kyi with her dress. While Fairey as usual lacked any irony, one could see nearby a series of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Warhols</span> based on the hammer and sickle, where the wall labels alone created a rich stew of communism and capitalism, art world and politics, cool irony and real danger.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAogIIg1Z2dXRuO3NSYyhL8SNG9RcAAS4ToCoQTCj0ZXbBLiWsk5Btqf8w_ySFFwDtPLgMrYd1Z_m00GNwVSLAQC7pzxDtHK-TgsLLrxUZ-U7fYYAAbWz3cbEG9rTbV_l40QeSgL7PlU/s1600-h/DSC01342.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGAogIIg1Z2dXRuO3NSYyhL8SNG9RcAAS4ToCoQTCj0ZXbBLiWsk5Btqf8w_ySFFwDtPLgMrYd1Z_m00GNwVSLAQC7pzxDtHK-TgsLLrxUZ-U7fYYAAbWz3cbEG9rTbV_l40QeSgL7PlU/s200/DSC01342.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412593528036236386" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJO0EAVu1qlGBWn4YLkY6pl37PgcCUGYtf9UAqAyLT6n91UFiBDp4_IFzc7WXfyjiDCR738LovLdEb3Y8UR3B1n93zSE0jxRPLtE5HNIB7KZoSj7G5sBlmpegiccB96-kLHurPRYe89Y/s1600-h/DSC01395.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgJO0EAVu1qlGBWn4YLkY6pl37PgcCUGYtf9UAqAyLT6n91UFiBDp4_IFzc7WXfyjiDCR738LovLdEb3Y8UR3B1n93zSE0jxRPLtE5HNIB7KZoSj7G5sBlmpegiccB96-kLHurPRYe89Y/s320/DSC01395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412589661727793202" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Right: Shephard Fairey at Deitch.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Andy Warhol wall labels at L & M Arts.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Below: Gerhard Richter and Louise Bourgeois at Kukje Gallery.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLkKtGAw3EIQNAXTAbyNtfdQav6klvg2kq6jpjmx2gtRrVUd-WmHS4WljokwzZKkowlbV98jA_4ISHoK7onGfyp8-RVWFe2yVu2aVYDLQx41q5CcHc9JWUFKc02Rl6YlBdIKvkijv9fI/s1600-h/DSC01415.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLkKtGAw3EIQNAXTAbyNtfdQav6klvg2kq6jpjmx2gtRrVUd-WmHS4WljokwzZKkowlbV98jA_4ISHoK7onGfyp8-RVWFe2yVu2aVYDLQx41q5CcHc9JWUFKc02Rl6YlBdIKvkijv9fI/s320/DSC01415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412598081788341506" border="0" /></a>Another pleasure found at crowded art fairs was that of finding delicious juxtapositions of art by familiar artists. A lovely pairing of a hanging Bourgeois "Lair" sculpture, dark, minimal, yet sensual, prompted me to see a nearby abstract, primary colored, lush Richter in a new light.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAukpV15orW3izDJobXXEDy-eJL-yDI-1CGSNLww606S5IT1wGyilTigcdcx_tyaOtrsSEcuh43Unw6eGYcM09MFvDTry3PeSCr1XdvznBZSnuXwrNPDfBpt5CAdPXnBhyphenhyphenAb8e8RcYms/s1600-h/DSC01508.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAukpV15orW3izDJobXXEDy-eJL-yDI-1CGSNLww606S5IT1wGyilTigcdcx_tyaOtrsSEcuh43Unw6eGYcM09MFvDTry3PeSCr1XdvznBZSnuXwrNPDfBpt5CAdPXnBhyphenhyphenAb8e8RcYms/s200/DSC01508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412598855472205266" border="0" /></a><br />Shoes seemed to boringly inhabit the black platform stilettos range, which I consequently abstained from photographing. Some colorful Miami variants popped through, notably the following.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpTLjGeOITO0fQq2dpQSZiHnHKuHPklDhyphenhyphen2aDGpqDpoIz-tJuV3I8FSqbB2u1NulIIabu5BYsTB-Htw7TXeD6GG1iF7g9cGLLoL8Cqsa-JUgvl2gzq1YGNoVRL9nVu6o6OnE3hpS0Z0w/s1600-h/DSC01485.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpTLjGeOITO0fQq2dpQSZiHnHKuHPklDhyphenhyphen2aDGpqDpoIz-tJuV3I8FSqbB2u1NulIIabu5BYsTB-Htw7TXeD6GG1iF7g9cGLLoL8Cqsa-JUgvl2gzq1YGNoVRL9nVu6o6OnE3hpS0Z0w/s200/DSC01485.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412599665024184098" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLMWRJyYPC12bTsBomVCSQXjoes0t4RGQetGhOCyocr8DN0Mcw_Hu6C7UBTrTCXDbP8VdLDpl9A5_O1RCnawlV9IF2sem6nxIr0cilEt1oReS4HnNL5QDXu8c3pqSA7R7p6tI7Zqa27Y/s1600-h/DSC01839.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLMWRJyYPC12bTsBomVCSQXjoes0t4RGQetGhOCyocr8DN0Mcw_Hu6C7UBTrTCXDbP8VdLDpl9A5_O1RCnawlV9IF2sem6nxIr0cilEt1oReS4HnNL5QDXu8c3pqSA7R7p6tI7Zqa27Y/s320/DSC01839.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412576649385265810" border="0" /></a>In my final few minutes at Art Basel I noticed a realistic life-size sculpture of a waitress by Duane Hansen wedged into a corner. How apt, for all the discussion of the health of the art market, that I saw this sad creature, left behind by the whirlwind of moneyed exotica roaming the halls of the convention center searching for their next investment.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Left: Duane Hansen "Rita the Waitress" 1975, at Van de Weghe.</span>Asya Geisberghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03700808849190691614noreply@blogger.com0