Artforum’s William Pym covering the extremely non-chalant X-Initiative opening this week:
Jordan Wolfson, hovering by Barcelona’s Latitudes, took several prods before he could even remember that he was participating in a group show with healthy buzz opening at I-20 Gallery round the corner later in the week. Eventually waking up to the idea that he was a professional artist talking to a writer, Wolfson pointed at a nearby projector. “I lent that to them,” he volunteered with a goofy puff of pride. “That’s my claim to fame.”
International Association of Art Critics cardholder Tyler Green twittering his way through the museums of New England:
So much attitude from admissions staff. MFA needs to train them on AICA members. Geez.
10:04 AM Jun 22nd from UberTwitter
At Worcester Art Museum, where admissions person tried to keep me out. Train the staff on accredited press, WAM…
10:00 AM Jun 21st from UberTwitter
Me at Larry’s, for John’s late Picasso show last month:
Me: I wonder if you can tell me about the documentary screening in the corner gallery?
Gallery attendant: No.
Me [flummoxed]: I mean, is there any information ab–
Attendant: No, there isn’t.
Me, [baffled]: Is there someone who does know who I can ask, I’m just interested to find out who prod–
Attendant: No, there isn’t anyone.
Me [weighing whether to ask for people at 24th street by name, or whether to just do the cold, “Do you know who I am?” and then deciding against it, since she clearly doesn’t give a flying $#% who I might be, and why should she, there’s only like three of these paintings for sale, and my question isn’t even remotely on the trajectory for someone who might want to buy one, and can’t I just go dig up the early 70’s Picasso filmography onilne anyway?]: Ooo Kaay. Thanks.
It occurs to me that we invariably bring a cartload of subjective baggage along with us when we see art, and often we’re only vaguely aware the extent to which that subjectivity and expectation colors–no, it’s more than that, it shapes and molds and transforms–our experience.
Whether we see as an artist or a collector, a curator or a trustee, a flaneur, a writer/critic/journalist, a complete civilian, if such a thing is possible anymore, makes a difference.
And when I couldn’t find it online, I made a quick call, and some very helpful folks at Gagosian told me the film was Picasso: War, Peace, Love, (1970), by the artist’s long-time friend, photographer Lucien Clergue, and that it was originally produced in 1968 for Condor Films, in Zurich, as Picasso: Krieg, Frieden und Liebe.
I’ve got to remember to add it to IMDb.