Monday, December 14, 2009

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Mr. Mom

Walking down the street one day, I happened upon a bag full of brand-new mostly deplorable dvds. Some movie called "Pale-Male," "Pirates of the Carribbean 2," "Face-Off," some show tunes, you get the picture. I did find myself tempted by a double feature of "Baby Boom" and "Mr. Mom." After selling the crappy ones to the record store for a measly $5, I had forgotten all about my one score, until unearthing it this past weekend. After watching Mr. Mom, I have to admit, it's pretty fucking fantastic.

The plot: A Detroit car salesman loses his job at the plant, due to hard economic times, and his wife goes to work for a high-rolling PR firm, saddling him with three kids. And as we all know, men can't care for children... what a predicament! You can watch it yourself, and see the normative 1950s suburban family unit unravel before your very eyes--hilariously. A parent dressed up like ET during a trick or treat scene had me crying, especially because he creepily pops out from behind a tree, and just sort of lingers akwardly throughout the scene... A screen grab:


Additionally, MGM didn't do much with the transfer, creating a hybrid VHS-DVD, washed out tone that makes it all look like an early 90s cereal commercial. Or maybe that was, umm... err... part of the director's creative vision... Either way, I love the crappy picture quality. It doesn't say what the transfer method was, but my guess would be that it was processed by either optical wet-gate printing, or contact printing.

This trailer pales in comparison to the real thing, but alas:

Monday, December 7, 2009

The Sheer Ingenuity of "Shredding"

At first, I was hesitant about these videos, but there is something amazingly fulfilling about watching these douche-mops egos be completely emasculated through simple sound editing.

Wikipedia's definition of "Shredding":

Shred guitar or shred refers to lead electric guitar playing that relies heavily on fast passages; the act of playing fast passages on an electric guitar is termed "shredding". While one critic argues that shred guitar is associated with "... sweep- picked arpeggios, diminished and harmonic minor scales, finger-tapping and whammy bar abuse", several guitar writers argue that rather than being a musical definition, it is a fairly subjective cultural term used by guitarists and enthusiasts of guitar music. It is usually used with reference to hard rock and heavy metal guitar playing, where it is associated with rapid tapping solos and special effects such as whammy bar "dive-bombs". The term is sometimes used with reference to playing outside this idiom, particularly country, jazz fusion, blues, and some modern variants of bluegrass.


Wikipedia's going to have to add this to their definition, because Houston, we have a genre.










Sunday, December 6, 2009

Len Lye: The Cosmic Archive

The Birth of the Robot, 1936

If I had money to burn, the exhibition "LEN LYE: THE COSMIC ARCHIVE" at Govett-Brewster Art Gallery in Aotearoa, New Zealand would be a serious priority. Us New York based folk, and NZ foreigners will have to settle for the forthcoming publication from Govett-Brewster Art Gallery instead, which is fantastic considering the major scarcity of scholarship on his body of work. "Len Lye" is co-published by the Govett-Brewster Art Gallery and the Len Lye Foundation with support from the Govett-Brewster Foundation, and distributed internationally by Random House

LEN LYE: THE COSMIC ARCHIVE
12 December 2009 – 15 March 2010
During his career, New Zealand-born artist Len Lye (1901–1980) witnessed a period of tremendous expansion in scientific inquiry. The Len Lye Collection and Archive at the Govett-Brewster contains hundreds of scientific articles the artist gleaned from the popular press, in fields ranging from psychology to astronomy, particle physics to palaeontology.

Featuring several of these news clippings, Len Lye: The Cosmic Archive explores the space age imagination and its impact on Lye’s work in a range of media. This exhibition presents the newly reconstructed kinetic sculpture, Moon Bead (1968/2009), the rarely seen Bones (1965), as well as the films The Birth of the Robot (1936) and Particles in Space (1957–1979).

Curated by Tyler Cann
Courtesy the Len Lye Foundation and The New Zealand Film Archive

(The Cover of the Publication)

With contributions by editors Tyler Cann and Prof. Wystan Curnow alongside new essays by Guy Brett, Roger Horrocks, Evan Webb and Tessa Laird, this comprehensive and visually rich presentation of Lye's work underlines his distinctive place in modern and contemporary art.

Best known for his vibrant 'direct' films painted on celluloid, New Zealand-born Len Lye (1901-1980) was a kinetic sculptor, poet, painter and writer as well as an experimental filmmaker. This new publication brings together the many facets of Lye's energetic mind, pioneering career and ebullient personality, throwing fresh light on a seminal figure in the history of the moving image.

Rainbow Dance, 1936


Free Radical, 1958


Trilogy (A Flip and Two Twisters) 1977, (still and in motion photos)


Universe, 1976

The Exhibition Site
Art New Zealand

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Video Witch: Joan Jonas' shamanistic approach to performance


I had no idea what to expect for the performance billed 'Joan Jonas reading Dante.' I read the Performa summary, which lent almost no information, as well an ArtForum article about the work as instantiated for the 2008 Biennale of Sydney and some other scraps; yet nowhere in the limited information that I could cobble together even remotely conveyed a true sense of the piece. So far, I haven't even found extensive video documentation. It's a shame, because I had my camera, and was sitting dead front center, but with Barbara London three seats to my immediate right, but I didn't want to do anything "uncouth."

Pure, experimentation unfurling through several delicate televisual layers, as well as live performance, the work was comprised of previously shot footage (in Canada recently, and New York in the 1970s with Pat Steir) displayed in the background as a floor- to-ceiling video screen. There were also at least two closed circuit video cameras recording intermittently throughout the performance, and manipulated live as well. The visible camera was part of Joan's drawing and video "laboratory," a vanity sized table to the right of the stage where footage of her live action drawing was taken; floating in and out of the video screen behind. The other, less obvious closed circuit video camera taped either Joan or her assistant, Ragani Haas, as they performed on stage. The second closed-circuit camera used a blue trail effect, and typically was overlaid on top of other footage, producing at once an ethereal and organic vibe.



Joan and/or Ragani interacted with the the video a couple of different ways; all of which were quite captivating. One or both of them would respond to the image behind them on screen, Joan would draw at her laboratory on camera, or would draw on the stage space. These drawings, enacted with white chalk tied to long sticks laid the process of the work bare before the audience; and visually revealed the thought behind the work.

The performance was comprised of about 10 movements. In one, there was an image of a human body on screen, overlaid with Joan's live-drawing video, as Ragani positioned two candy-colored clear circles attached to long wooden sticks to highlight parts of the body. Another favorite was a large floor drawing where Joan and Ragani used their primordially fashioned chalk sticks to slowly draw hollow circles on the black paper, and then connect them all together through continuous loops of unbroken line. Once finished, the large black paper was crumpled up in a gestural, but eloquent manner. The final movement, my favorite, was simple yet poetic; Joan at her labratory, drew in chalk on a series of flat mirrors and erased periodically as atmospheric, child-like music played.

The story of Dante was one of the many strands in this braid of a performance, as if Joan was offering her interpretation, but not handing the audience a fixed pedagogical history as such. In this sense, it seems she is inviting us to construct our own narrative of the work(s), while assigning no hierarchical order or privilege to any one strand. I thank you, earth-mother Joanas for a spiritual reinvigoration.

Museum Futures: Distributed


Last Tuesday, I went to the New School for a screening of Marysia Lewandowska and Neil Cumming's 2008 film 'Museum Futures: Distributed.' The artists have collaborated between 1995 and 2008, in institutions such as banks, museums, galleries, archives, auction houses, universities, and department stores. Commissioned for the 50th anniversary for the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, Sweden, the film uses art world developments of the last 20 years or so to project what the next 50 years will look like for institutions--politically, socially and economically. The result is a provocative Alphaville-ian utopia/dystopia creation; purely speculative, but resonant nonetheless. It really pushes the current (and past) "glocal" art realm to a vision of hyper-globalization, commenting on digital cultural heritage, governance, open source, GPL, and as the main character states "cultural mesh works of the public domain."

Afterwards, there was a talk with Marysia Lewandowska (who teaches at Bard CCS), Christiane Paul (Whitney New Media Curator, and Director of Media Studies at the New School, goddess) and James Hunt (Director of Interdisciplinary Graduate Initiatives at New School, incoherent blatherer).

As stipulated by the Moderna's accession of the work, it will be published in open source on the internet, as well as on the Museum's website after one year. I may or may not already have accessed it... Will share when possible.

read:
1. Bruno Latour, "Can We Get Our Materialism Back, Please?" in The History of Science Society (New York: Isis, 2007).
2. Hou Hanro, "Towards a New Locality, Biennalism and Global Art" in Barbara Vanderlinden and Elena Filipovic. eds. The Manifesta Decade: Debates on Contemporary Art Exhibitions and Biennials in Post-wall Europe (Cambridge, MA: Roomade/MIT Press, 2006), 57-62.
3. Elena Filipovic, "The Global White Cube" in Barbara Vanderlinden and Elena Filipovic. eds. The Manifesta Decade: Debates on Contemporary Art Exhibitions and Biennials in Post-wall Europe (Cambridge, MA: Roomade/MIT Press, 2006), 63-84.
4. This site rules.











Monday, November 9, 2009

Bruce High Quality Foundation- Art History with Benefits

Seeing BHQF for the second time last week, as part of Performa at X-Initiative in Chelsea, I finally realized that the art world really still is anyone's oyster. Bruce have formed a collective under the auspices of the late social sculptor Bruce High Quality, for which it acts as the official arbiter of the estate. Sounding like a credible foundation, they have used this fictional institution as their platform and guise. Their performance, 'Art History with Benefits' is a critique and satire of traditional Art History, and thereby functioning as a sort larger institutional critique (and they do this other ways as well, see their Heaven Forbid!, response to Rondonine's Hell Yes! or BHQFU). Here, they execute their performance of 'Art History with Benefits' by narrating anecdotes, facts, histories, and gossip regarding the artist-patron relationship, coinciding with a image slide show that leads us through a hurricane of pop-culture, art history and mass-media moments. To top it all off, the collective Karaoke'd George Michael's "I'll be Your Father Figure" to end the performance.



It is the tension between the dissemination of information, of "high" and "low" taste that is most palpable in the presentation. Especially when you consider BHQF's audience; a mix of art world senior staff, Chelsea socialites, rebels, artists, students, and young derelicts out for free drinks. I love the idea of critiquing a canonized narrative of Art History while talking about Anna Nicole Smith, or Mariah Carey giving some record producer a blow-jay. And not surprisingly, the contemporary art community embraces this with open arms-- it is worth mentioning that contemporary art institutions, though they may represent the authoritative stance to some, are still not the codified institutions that they are often associated with. Such institutions act as a platform to disseminate a range of artistic practice, theoretical discourses, and new institutional ideologies to profligate, feed and propel for future ideological concerns, though (complicatedly) they are often bound to the past for a host of practical reasons. Getting back to my original point, though, I find it fascinating that the BHQF has been so quickly accepted, given their anti-establishment mission. I suppose we live in a time where institutions are prone to integrating works that exist to critique the past histories of what has lead to the current moment. What does it mean for contemporary institutions to embrace this not so subtle criticism? Can it be viewed as trying to integrate this critique into the larger picture of cultural memory? Are we witnessing the institution at a point of maturity, where its self awareness is increasing through this type of critical aknowledgement? Moreover, as a performance with no commercial value (although this could be debated), the discourse behind 'Art History with Benefits' could not be integrated into the social fabric via the commercial art market.

But still, there was something particularly biting, ballsy and shrewd about showing a photo of Dakkis and Lietta Joannou, from a recent Artforum diary post, in X-- aka the former Dia Chelsea building, where not 24 hours prior, hosted the art world A-list celebration for the opening of Performa, for which some of the very collectors, and art world high-ups that BHQF question were undoubtably present. If not for the Performa celebration the night before, then possibly for the Dia Foundation Fall Benefit Party, the night after. Despite the large scale celebrations, X/Dia is a sensical venue for BHQF, because of their ability to garner the respect and trust of both artists and donors. Dia has represented artists whose work defies the limits of the museum, and artists who use the Museum as the central force of their work; think Walter De Maria, Michael Heiser, Robert Smithson and Louise Lawler.

The collective themselves consciously embody the artist-patron relationship by way of performing it before an audience of this character. Yet through the DIY aesthetics, denigrated visual examples and anecodes, and general lack of seriousness, they simultaneously mock and highlight such relationships. Now that BHQF has the attention, they might be in a position to reverse the credo. Bruce exerts mockery and trickery to invert institutional practice, in an attempt to break it open and see what's really inside. In other words, Bruce is embraced by the very institutions they ridicule-- and who knows what they've got in store next. Even so, such a cohabitation will likely contain elements of doubt and wariness from the Bruce's perspective. A relationship that we have seen previously throughout the course of Art History, and in 'Art History with Benefits,' where artists and the museum are mutually dependent on each other, and monitor each other vigilantly. Somehow, through their tongue and cheek actions and their insertion of prevailing themes of the underdog and "low culture" into Art History, BHQF proves to be the work of mastery.

Bruce High Quality Foundation Profile
BHQFU- Bruce's free, unaccredited, user-generated university