Do You Know Who I Am?

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 online 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.

Photochroms? Photochromosomes?

photochrom_journeyskull.jpg
On his incredible illustration blog A Journey Round My Skull, Will has posted several selections of photochromes, or photochroms, or photochromosomes. [here and here] They were color-retouched photolithographs popular around the turn of the last century. They used at least six, and usually 10-15 tinted stones for each image.
I think the eerie light and tone looks like Darren Almond’s Full Moon photographs, but I like Will’s alternate description of the process, too: “Max Ernst photoshops livestock into the xeroxed ruins of Caspar David Friedrich paintings.”

And Even MORE Astonishing? Matthew Barney Has A Watch

From Linda Yablonsky’s account of a Matthew Barney/Elizabeth Peyton colabo on Hydra, sponsored by Dakis Joannou:

“Barney looked at his watch. ‘Just about two hours,’ he said to Peyton. ‘Not bad. After all, there’s a limit to how long you can ask people to wait.’ Coming from the king of slow, this seemed even more astonishing than the event.”

Reminds me of the demolition derby/used car gig he put together in LA a little while back. If nothing else, Barney is a masterful social engineer, transforming his guest list/audience “from jaded personalities into humble acolytes.”

This Weekend: Nothing But What Is Therein Contained, By Steve Roden

airform_nothing_inproc.jpg

Steve Roden’s sculpture and sound installation, nothing but what is therein contained is in the previously closed off top rooms of Founder’s Hall at Girard College. It was created as part of the Hidden City Philadelphia festival, and this weekend, June 27th and 28th, is the last chance to see it. Which is really bumming me out, because we’ll be in Philadelphia for the 4th of July.

I’d emailed my compliments to Roden, praising how the “pure arbitrariness” of the system he used to construct this sculpture turned out so fantastically. When he emailed back and thanked me, he also pointed out there was “indeed there was much more specificity to the project than arbitrariness.” I felt like smacking my head, “that’s what I meant, not arbitariness, specificity!” as if they were somehow interchangeable.

And yet, it was kind of what I meant. Roden described his process on his blog. The title is a phrase from Girard’s will, instructing the architect what kind of building he should design:

I took the phrase and translated it into numbers based on the alphabetical sequence of the letters, and then cut pieces of wood accordingly.
these pieces (running from a 1 foot length for an “a” to an 8 foot plus a 12 foot for a “t”) were then painted in groups, a different color for each letter.

i then began to build the structure, beginning with the first letter – “n” – and drilling and wiring the consecutive parts improvisationally, essentially using the letter sequence as a score towards determining what piece of wood would come next.

The colors and painting, meanwhile were partly inspired “by the sketchbook of amish deaf mute craftsman henry lapp, who lived outside of pennsylvania just around the time the building was finished…”
airform_nothing.jpg

So yes, highly specific, and to an outsider, seemingly purely arbitrary. And yet, they are also the deeply intuited choices of an artist who has spent two years researching and experiencing the building, the institution, the space, the history, the city, the work inhabits. And out of that experience and those choices emerges a singular, even inevitable object. [The work itself also contains sound and text elements.]

I realized while I’d remembered Roden’s explanation of how Stephen Prina’s green monochrome paintings with dimensions based on Manet’s oeuvre informed his early explorations of constraints and systems from his interview with Catherine Wagley last year, I’d forgotten the intuition, which was the objective, if not the whole point:

it opened my eyes to how process could potentially be used to generate a relatively awkward or difficult stage for an intuitive process to then take place. so i started a painting with a ridiculously stupid idea – taking an issue of art in america and building an image using the first letter of every name in an advertisement for an exhibition, in the same font and same relative scale. it was the kind of thing i would have reacted against, so i tried it. it was incredibly frustrating, even boring at times, but also freeing. i started to make works using found letter structures within books and texts to see what might happen – what was i gaining and what was i losing by following such a process? i wasn’t sure, but both the process and the finished works were more interesting to me.

Great stuff. I wish we were in town.
nothing but what is therein contained, Saturdays & Sundays through June 28 [hiddencityphila.org]
more pics and making of: nothing but what is therein contained… [airform archives]

Les Ballons du Grand Palais

The Grand Palais was already the best of the three venues in the world capable of accommodating my Satelloon project–a re-creation of NASA’s Project Echo (1960), the 100-ft metallic spherical balloon which was world’s first communications satellite, and which was also known as the most beautiful and most-viewed object ever launched into space–but now it’s practically inevitable.
Unless someone tells me that the Pantheon or Grand Central Station have already hosted legendary air shows dating back a hundred years…

These photos from Branger & Cie via the Smithsonian show balloons and blimps on display at the 1re Exposition Internationale de Locomotion Aerienne, which debuted in the nave of the Grand Palais in September 1909. They ran until 1951. Which makes bringing back the spirit of the Air Show both spectaculaire et logique!

satelloon_grand_palais.jpg

Previously: Les Satelloons du Grand Palais]

Le début du point de vue Google Mappienne

pt_lou_philippe_ballon.jpg
On June 19, 1885 Gaston Tissandier and Jacques Ducom set off in across Paris in a balloon. They were on a photo expedition, and managed to get seven shots. This one, of the pont Louis-Phillippe, at the western tip of the Ile St-Louis, was the most successful, in that it was nearly straight down. Though it was not the first aerial photo of Paris, it caused a sensation and was exhibited and reproduced widely for many years.
The photo historian Thierry Gervais wrote about it in a 2001 article in Etudes Photographique, “Un basculement du regard, Les débuts de la photographie aérienne 1855-1914”:

In 1885, Gaston Tissandier and Jacques Ducom know the objectives and results of aerial photographs obtained by Nadar. When they fly over the capital on June 19, their goal is clear: “After many attempts, it still needs to be demonstrated that the proofs obtained in a balloon may be as sharp as those taken on land in the ordinary conditions and resolve in a word completely the problem of free balloon photography.”
Beginning at the Auteuil aeronautical workshop, the 13 x 18 camera, known as a touriste, is set on the edge of the platform, with the lens oriented to the ground. The crossing of Paris is done from Porte d’Auteuil to Ménilmontant via a light wind from south-west which takes them up to Meaux. Seven photographs are made, five of the capital and two of the banlieue. If “all are good enough to be reported,” that of the Ile Saint-Louis holds particular attention, taken at 600 meters, this photograph is of a perpendicular sharpness that “leaves nothing to be desired.”
The photograph of Île Saint-Louis gained real notoriety. Mentioned in the columns of le Bulletin de la Société française de photographie, it was noted that “now that any party was able to shoot the Geography, Topography and Military Arts,” it will be reproduced on many occasions. It is published in an article in la Nature describing the expedition. In 1886, Gauthier Villars printed rotogravure and photoglyptie in the book of Tissandier titled, La Photographie en ballon. Two years later, Albert Londe chooses to illustrate his chapter on aerial photography in La Photographie moderne. In 1889, it appears alongside the tribute of Paul Nadar at the Exposition universelle.
But the diffusion also means that the photograph of the Ile Saint-Louis is one-of-a-kind in the late 1880s. Tissandier and Ducom’s experimentation was not followed by an intensive production of aerial photographs. Commandant Freiburg made several attempts to shoot from a balloon, but the military are confronted with a problem context. To be out of reach of projectiles, the balloon must be at least 5000 meters. Accordingly, the camera needed to be equipped with a telephoto lens to produce legible images. Having noticed, during the Exposition of 1889, the value of aerial photography for the strategy, the military focuses its attention on getting results with long lenses.

What strikes me is how little has changed in over 100 years, at least from this perspective.
Here’s the same shot today on Google Maps:
tassindier_google_map.jpg

Sculpture In The Medium Of Rietveld

wohnseifer_berliner_stuhl.jpg
I’d seen this installation shot of Johannes Wohnseifer’s show at Johann Koenig in Berlin, but I couldn’t track down any details of the sculptures until now. But I see from Contemporary Art Daily that Koenig has finally posted some awesome detail images.
In an exploration of representation and tranformation/distortion through production, Wohnseifer has created a series of sculptures using the same nine components as Gerrit Rietveld’s 1923 Berliner Stuhl. Rietveld originally sold this chair as a build-it-yourself kit [the all-white example of the chair’s original configuration can be seen below, and in the background of the installation shot].
wohnseifer_cadaily.jpg
In each of his shelf-like but ultimately non-functional sculptures, Wohnseifer “plays with the idea of object ‘recycling,’ a widespread practice in non industrial countries, in which discarded materials with almost no more value are transformed into practical or also humorous products.” I guess “plays with” here means “doing the opposite,” since he transforms an unconventional-looking but functional chair into a definitionally non-practical object, a sculpture of almost classical abstract form.
Wohnseifer’s show closes tomorrow in Berlin

There’s A Sale At Jenny’s!

colombo_20x200.jpg
Jen Bekman’s Art for The People gallery, 20×200 is having a sale, 20% off all prints and photos through Tuesday. [see details and promo code info here.]
There’s a bunch of interesting stuff; among my favorites are Jorge Colombo’s iSketches famously created, like his recent New Yorker cover, with the Brushes iPhone App. They’re a really nice mix of painting, drawing, digital, and street…what’s the word, photography? reportage? Whatever sketches are.
jason_polan_20x200.jpg
Another great series is Jason Polans’ larger-scale prints based on drawings from the American Museum of Natural History. Great stuff.

An Open Letter To Bootleggers Of Video Quartet


Dear Bootleggers of Christian Marclay’s 4-channel masterpiece, Video Quartet,
First off, you’re fabulous. Second, rather than pan back and forth and back and forth across the four screens, if you would please station yourself to the side and get as wide a fixed shot as you can, maybe get a wide angle lens, even? Mkay? Great, thanks.
Hey, look at that, Video Quartet is showing at the Nasher Gallery at Duke until July 26th! School’s out, could be pretty uncrowded!

Check In Kyiv

Artforum reports today that The Art Newspaper reported Tuesday that the Washington Post reported that Ukrainian mogul/collector Viktor Pinchuk is the “fourth stakeholder” in the made-up “sale” of Damien Hirst’s £50 million diamond skull.
What no one reports, though, is that the Post published this claim over a month ago in a feature story by Their Man in Ukraine, John Pancake, about a Pinchuk-backed Hirst “retrospective” in Kyiv. Pancake did not make any characterization of his source, treating it as a passing fact. [The only Pinchuk-related source Pancake’s piece is Pinchuk Art Center director Eckhard Schneider, whose appointment was announced last fall in a press conference where the collector also admitted he was a repeat buyer at Hirst’s landmark Sotheby’s auction.]
I won’t speculate why it took the art world press more than a month to find out about an art story in the Washington Post. As for the reported sale of the skull “to a group of investors” in 2007, though, it would be nice if anyone could report what actually happened: that the “investors” who supposedly bought the Hirst from Hirst, his manager, and his dealer, were Hirst, his manager, and his dealer.
The involvement of an outsider, even as a minority “investor” whose percentage of ownership is then used, venture capital-style, to calculate the valuation of the venture. But with dozens or more transactions, charity auctions, and exhibitions between Pinchuck and Hirst, Pinchuk’s would hardly be considered an arms-length transaction.
And so the skull’s sole conceptual triumph–as a manipulative value distortion field which renders art and pop journalists powerless–continues.
Previously: Damien Hirst skull how-to photos
Also: No way that thing cost $20 million to make

Richard Prints: Untitled (300 x 404)

Untitled (300 x 404, After Untitled (Cowboy), 2003 by Richard Prince)
I just got my first edition of Untitled (300 x 404, after Untitled (Cowboy), 2003 by Richard Prince) from the printer. It’s a 1px = 1mm version, which came out to be 12 x 16 inches, inkjet printed on aluminum.
Though it’s crazy to feel any sense of accomplishment for an image I appropriated whose fabrication I outsourced, I’m actually kind of stoked. The print looks fantastic, with a graininess that doesn’t map to the supposed pixel dimensions.
When you zoom in on a screen, a pixel is so nice and tidy and square. But unless you’re a mosaicist or a North Korean cardflipping stadium extravaganza director, physical pixels are probably not going to be square. Who knew?
Anyway, since it cost the same to make one as a dozen, there’s an edition of ten, with a couple of proofs. If I had a dealer, a gallery, an artist career, or an idea to have any of the above, I’d probably sell them. I’m sure they’d be cheaper than the Richard Prince.
Previously: West Trademark @)#(*$ed Up
Untitled (300 x 404): the making of
update: Just found out via Joerg’s post that the original photographer was not Jim Krantz, but Sam Abell, the great National Geographic photographer. He shot it in 1996 for Leo Burnett, Marlboro/Philip Morris’s agency. PDN had an interview with Abell about it last year, on the occasion of Untitled (Cowboy)‘s prominence in Prince’s Guggenheim retrospective.

Yes We Kandinsky!

That would be the President and all his men getting a private view of the Pompidou’s Kandinsky retrospective, as seen in the official White House flickr stream. Also: Calder; Goncharova, Matisse [whoops, Suzanne Valadon! quel horreur, being confused with a man in the elles@centrepompidou show. thnx nicolas for the correction.]
the show travels to the Guggenheim in NYC in Sept. [centrepompidou.fr via walker art center‘s twitter]

Wait, Which “Ban” Was That Again?

Francesco Bonami, director of the 2003 Venice Biennale, writing for the NY Times’ blog, The Moment:

…the sculptor Bruce Nauman, the Sam Shepherd of Contemporary Art, was awarded the Gold Lion for best national pavilion. (A sign that the Obama effect has lifted the ban that during the Bush era made the US pavilion “unfit” for the award.)

Really? There was a ban? Just so we’re clear what Bonami’s claiming, let’s go to the tape:
49th Biennale, 2001: Germany won for Gregor Schneider’s insane, awesomely claustrophobic house. The US Pavilion showed Robert Gober, who had been selected under the Clinton era. Clear winner: Schneider.
50th Biennale, 2003, Bonami’s incarnation: Luxembourg won for Su-Mei Tse’s sound installation. The US Pavilion showed Fred Wilson, who invited African street sellers to display counterfeit Vuitton/Murakami bags in the courtyard. Clear loser: Wilson. [Obviously, I would’ve given the award to Olafur’s transformative Danish Pavilion, but Wilson shouldn’t have won anything, and didn’t.]
51st Biennale, 2005: France won for Annette Messager’s puppet/stuffed animal thing. The US barely got its shit together in time to pick Ed Ruscha. Clear winner? None, really.
52nd Biennale, 2007: So does that mean that, if it weren’t for a “ban,” Nancy Spector’s installation of Felix Gonzalez-Torres, which was as damning a condemnation of the Bush era and ideology as a could be imagined, could’ve/would’ve/should’ve won over Hungary’s Andreas Fogarasi, who showed black box video of various European street scenes.
Is that what you’re saying, Francesco? Are you just talking post-game smack? Was there really ban, where jurors took a brave, but apparently totally private stand–one that ended up denying an award to an artist who did speak out even after he died? Or was it the kind of stories we tell to ease our minds, like how everyone in France was in the Resistance?

Enzo Mari x Ikea Mashup, Ch. 6: Ikeaness


Enzo Mari x Ikea – Joinery, originally uploaded by gregorg.

The tile in the guest bathroom in North Carolina was handmade and sun-dried in Mexico, as you can tell by the single square with the artful flaw, a footprint from a wandering dog.
Woodworking aficionados get off on things like grain patterns and joinery, the more intricate the better. So it’s at once surprising and totally not that after spending so much time finishing this wood, I’m starting to dig its industrial qualities, its intrinsic Ikeaness.
Ikea’s IVAR shelving system is made from unfinished pine, but that’s barely half the story. When you start looking closely, you see that even the simplest board is actually made up of several pieces of wood, spliced together.
It’s never the same, either. Each identical-seeming 72-in. post is unique. It’s almost like they piece all these scraps together with this insane, zig-zag scarf joint, into a single, endless piece of wood, which gets extruded, drilled, and cut to length on the other end.
Once you notice these joints–this one is the highest-contrast of the whole pile–your eyes are drawn to them, like learning a new word and suddenly hearing it everywhere.
The shelves are glued up from pine strips, that’s obvious. But was I really so focused on selecting the “right” color ranges that I didn’t notice this string of lozenge-shaped plugs which filled a massive gap in one of the the shelves? I think that will be the table’s dog footprint.