Author: greg

The other night Thomas Demand offhandedly described some of the insane details of the production of Clearing, the massive photograph of a forest which is now built into The Modern at MoMA. The photograph was laminated onto two sheets of architectural safety glass that were so large, they had to use satellite-curing ovens at ESA, the European Space Agency–at night–to fabricate it. When the request for the work, Thomas said, “no one quite knew what they were getting.”
[On an irrelevant note, the lifesize set for Clearing happened to be in Demand’s studio during a MoMA Jr Associates visit I set up. It was so stunning, the trustees quickly added the studio to their Berlin itinerary, and curator Kynaston McShine suggested the Modern acquire the work. And I still can’t get a reservation.]
I mention this–obviously I mention the studio story for self-aggrandizement, but remember the tagline of this site, yo–because not quite knowing what you’re getting seems like one of the underlying currents of Demand’s work.
Walking through the show, I tried to recall the portentous actual setting that was obscured behind each photograph’s generic title: Kitchen was Saddam’s, Archive was Riefenstahl’s, etc., but I kept remembering them wrong, which made me load all kinds of historical baggage onto each image; turns out only some of the bags actually matched. Barn was Pollock’s, not Kaczynski’s; the cluttered desk was L. Ron Hubbard’s, not Bill Gates’. The Bauhaus-style stairway was from Demand’s middle school, but it turns out even he remembered it wrong.

Thomas Demand opens today at MoMA [moma.org]
Michael Kimmelman calls it “hypnotic” [nyt]
No one goes to The Modern; it’s too crowded

Tangentially related to both preparations for my upcoming talks on the art market in Rotterdam and to The Gates being rather showily not for sale, I’ve been thinking about art you can’t buy or sell.

e-flux’s Do It! exhibition is full of artworks you create or complete by following the artist’s instructions. Sometimes a museum paid the artist to let them keep these originally temporary works, but the museum can’t sell them. And you can’t buy or sell them. [You CAN buy the handbook-size catalogue, though.]

The other night in SoHo, I saw a dealer whose collection I visited way back when. My favorite piece was an edition, a foot-long steel bar by either Walter deMaria or Michael Heizer [anyone know?] which was stamped, “may not be sold for more than $100.” Since it’d be “worth” far more today, no one’ll sell the thing the only way the artist permits it to be sold. [Of course, all those Earth Art guys were originally trying to subvert the market/gallery system. Yeah, how’d that work out?]

We have some prints by Gabriel Orozco that I picked up at agnes b. gallery in Paris way back when. They were free then, the way ephemera and art books are. I’ve been offered nice money for them, even though they say “ne peut etre vendu” on the bottom. Crazy people.

At Frieze art fair last fall, Keith Tyson had a large sculpture at his gallery’s booth, which was not for sale. He would only give the piece away to the first person who could decipher the multi-part puzzle that was incorporated within it. [In Le Monde, Tyson says a collector who wanted to buy it said, “no problem, I’ll just buy it from the guy who solves it.”]
The Times of London has Tyson’s full puzzle [timesonline.co.uk]

Shameless plug first: I’m speaking and participating in two panel discussions at Art Rotterdam this week. Thursday at 2000 hours [when is that? someone please tell me.] I’m talking about the effects on art and artists of the art market’s global dynamic. That’s at Het Wilde Weten, an alternative art space in Rotterdam, where the other panelists include: artists Jeanne van Heeswijk and Joep van Lieshout; Mondriaan Foundation director Gitta Luiten; journalist Marc Spiegler; and Amsterdam gallery owner Maurice van Valen.
Then on Friday afternoon at 1500 hours, I’m on a panel about private funding of art and museums. The other folks are Peggy Guggenheim Collection’s special events officer Claudia Rech; Rainald Schumacher, Director Goetz Sammlung; Kees van Twist, Director Groningermuseum; and
Frank Lubbers, deputy-director Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven. The moderator is Prof. Dr. Arjo Klamer of Erasmus University.

I just made myself a little batch of “apprentice of nothing” t-shirts, which should be here in about 10 days. I’m taking a couple, and the rest are available–first come, first served–for $20, domestic shipping included. [mon. night update: they’re gone.] They’re American Apparel superfine jersey, not fitted (L, XL) and come in just one style: white text screened on saffron.
[limited edition apprentice of nothing t-shirt]
[update: in the spirit of transparency, I thought it best to lay out the budget and revenue projections for MY saffron-colored project:

Printer: Customink.com [highly recommended]
Batch size: 12 shirts
Total unit cost: $13.75
Shipping expense: free for standard delivery
Total cost: $165.00
Unit sales price: $20
Gross margin: $6.25
(less postage) $1.85
(less envelopes) $0.50
Unit contribution: $3.85
Total units available for sale: 10
Total contribution: $38.50
(less cost of 2 shirts): $27.50
Project Operating Profit: $11.00
(less design expense, $450/hr): $900
(less managment expense, $$900/hr): $1,800
Net profit (loss): ($2,689)

You’re welcome.

To: greg.org
From: someone using the name of a recognizable artist of Christo’s generation
Date: 2/20/05, 22:06
Subject: the blog of greg allen!

Allen, the fastidious analysis of Christo’s project you make, the stupid remarks and investigations over his car, his plates, his parties and his private parts [?? -g.o] make you look a moronic paparazzo searching for the Olsen Twins for a cover in “Daily News” or any other tabloid of your choice. Now, you should say that this art is a waste of money, the artists are rich and they should give the money to charity. You really have a lot of free time or either you don’t know to write about art, so waste your time in freaky painstaking accounts of other’s money and stolen photos. Pathetic, laughable, useless, pointless. Shameful and childish. Get a life and write something interesting, you ridiculous apprentice of nothing.

And I thought the Claymates were sensitive.