Alright, so I’m back from a day mostly spent at MoMA:
Wow, the Film Department is firing on all cylinders.
I remember one year when Chaka Khan yelled at the crowd for not paying enough attention to her, and now this year, Kanye West is performing to mad hype. Crazy.
Hmm, the fourth floor where I’d hoped to spend a great deal of time studing Jasper Johns’ Flag was “closed for reinstallation,” which means they’re part of the Missing Flag Coverup! Trust No One!
There are some Bridget Riley paintings in the hallway next to the cafe [I know] that look like they came from Bill Seitz’s 1965 Op Art blockbuster, The Responsive Eye. Don’t tell Larry Aldrich, though, or he’ll turn them into fabrics.
Really, a very crowded place.
Oh, I bought this anthology, Curating and the Educational Turn, and I think it’s going to be sweet. Unfortunately, with 27 different authors the chances of anyone topping this sentence, chosen at random from the introduction, are slim-to-none:
For several of the authors gathered here, these primarily function as points of departure for performative or polemical texts which themselves refuse a masterful discourse of explication in an attempt to honour the ethos of counter-institutional and counter-hegemonic practices of dissent and emergence.
Maybe curators have added pedagogical toolsets to their praxis because they’re fed up with people always asking them to explain what the hell they’re saying.
I almost bought what is undoubtedly the greatest book of its kind, Murakami Versailles, but it was too heavy to contemplate carrying it around. Also, I expect it will be entered into evidence in Murakami’s trail before the People’s Post-Revolutionary Court, so I can just grab a scaned version soon enough.
I want to buy this world of chairs, but this signed, dated, handmade Judd ur-chair, from Flavin’s stash in Marfa, even, sold in 2003 for $60,000–and in 2007 for $29,000. At that rate, I figure by 2012, I’ll be able to just pick it up from the curb.
Which, I guess I could make my own for less–five Coke crates at $10-30 each–autoprogettazione x Coke. Sorry, no Pepsi.
I’ve been so focused on generating enough empty plastic Diet Coke bottles to be recycled into a dining roomful of Emeco With Coke 111 Navy Chairs, I haven’t even thought about the crates.
But seriously, I’m kind of kidding. Because as much as I’d like to close the loop and save the planet and all by turning my empties into chairs, the fact that normal Emeco chairs–recycled from cans–last 150 years, and this rPET one has a 5-year structural guarantee makes me a little uneasy. How long would one cast out of recycled glass bottles last?
“Civilization is in an acute form of crisis. But the germs of a future culture are floating in the air. It is possible that one day the first flowers may spring up here on American soil.”
– Gordon Onslow Ford, 29, opening his lecture on Surrealism at the New School, January, 1941.
Gorky, Motherwell, Matta, Tanguy and Pollock were apparently in the audience.
Onslow Ford was sent to the US as part of the Committee to Preserve European Culture. Art historian Martica Sawin transcribed the lectures, which are published for the first time in the catalogue accompanying the artist’s first NY show since 1946, at Francis Naumann.
The only online references to this Committee are in relation to this show, and Onslow Ford’s bio. [google cache here, as the page is not currently visible from onslowford.com] He was an officer in the British navy, and given leave for the lectures. His 2003 obit says “an expatriate group” invited him, and he was certainly preceded to NY by many of his older surrealist colleagues.
But instead of returning to the war, “he decided to join other Surrealists in Mexico seeking greater isolation to travel his own artistic path.” He camped out in a hacienda in a remote village for six years, then moved to San Francisco [where he co-founded that crazy hippie art barge, the Vallejo.] Which sounds an awful lot like ducking the war and hiding out in BF Mexico. Just sayin’. “Gordon Onslow Ford: Paintings and Works on Paper 1939-1951,” curated by Fariba Bogzaran, through Dec. 23 francisnaumann.com via nyt]
Either way, the degraded, abstracted pixelation of user canzona‘s 1000th ripped & uploaded YouTube video is a great digital tribute to experimental composer Alvin Lucier and the ‘photocopy effect,’ “where upon repeated copies the object begin to accumulate the idiosyncrasies of the medium doing the copying.”
As MeFite DU puts it, “I like how it’s called ‘the photocopy effect,’ but was inspired by a sound recording.” I Am Sitting In A Video Room 1000 [youtube via @joygarnett]
Saying they reminded him a bit of the polygonal distortions of the Dutch Landscape images from Google Maps, greg.org reader Patrick passed along these examples of adaptive subdivision from flickr user Quasimondo.
Googling around on it, I gather it’s a tiling technique used in mapping that partitions an image based on the similarity of adjacent data; more similar=larger polygon. More detail/variation=smaller divisions.
I’ve been debating in my head whether to really delve into the actual algorithms and techniques used to camouflage the various military & intelligence sites I’ve been pulling. It’s not clear that it’d help the project along in any way, but it does fascinate me.
What became immediately obvious is that while the geometric abstractions of some sites are clearly based on the underlying image, others have been pasted over by totally unrelated polygon blobs. Compare in the map of The Hague below, the detail of the Noordeinde Palace in the upper left and the outsize blob hiding the Department of Defense on the right.
Score one for the bloggers. I found this beautiful little packet of souvenir photographs at a small, otherwise uninteresting flea market a few weekends ago.
They’re tiny, just 2×2.5 inches, but they’re crisp and beautiful in a way that reminds me we’re losing something tangible in this wholesale shift to digital printing.
The photos reminded me a bit of a miniature photogrid from Olafur Eliasson–he’s done caves looking in and looking out, and some later pieces are documentations of his trip through a place, like the river rafting series.
But more than that, they reminded me of a tiny set of Robert Smithson mirror displacement photos I kind of wanted to buy. Smithson had used a Kodak Brownie to take tiny, square snapshots of mirrors stuck in the snow on his Greenwich Avenue roof. The Met had them on hold for a very long time, and ended up taking them in 2001. There are no images online, but they fall in an interesting place in Smithson’s work, between his contact sheets and his rarer, larger photos.
As for these photos, I have to thank Steve Roden, who helped me notice them at all. Roden had posted this summer about the Luray Caverns, specifically a recording of The Great Stalacpipe Organ, which was made of concert-tuned stalactites. Those Luray promoters didn’t miss a single angle.
While this 1857 ambrotype of John Steiner’s balloon preparing for an international crossing from Erie, Pennsylvania to Canada is the first known photograph of a flying machine, Steiner’s was not necessarily the first balloon.
Still, kind of awesome.
FWIW, Steiner had to bail out over Lake Erie in dramatic fashion. His balloon made it to Canada and was found some time later.
On an evening in October 1986, two well-dressed men approached Dan Rather on Park Avenue, began asking him, “Kenneth, what is the frequency?” and then started pummeling him. They were never identified or caught, and the motive behind their question and their attack was never explained.
In a 2002 article in Harper’s magazine, however, Paul Limbert Allman “solves” the riddle. The answer: New Yorker short story writer Donald Barthelme.
As his analysis unfolds, and hypothetical interactions between Rather and Barthelme become bitter vengeance. Allman begins to sound more than a bit like Charles Kinbote, the protagonist of one of my absolute favorite novels ever, Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov. Which is not who you want to sound like if you’re really gunning for credibility. Pale Fire is structured an eponymous epic poem by a dead poet named John Shade, and the increasingly unhinged footnotes added by Kinbote, Shade’s self-deluding neighbor/colleague/groupie/stalker.
So if the Pale Fire logic holds, then [calculates on fingers] I think that means Allman attacked Dan Rather. Or that Allman is a figment of Rather’s imagination. It could go either way. The frequency: Solving the riddle of the Dan Rather beating [harpers.org via jessamyn] “Kenneth, what is the frequency?” [wikipedia]
We were driving back from the storage unit Sunday morning, when we saw this spectacular and impossible-seeming scene on E 63rd St & Park:
A taxi, slammed full force, backwards and against traffic, into a tree in front of the townhouse Paul Rudolph created for Halston.
Apparently, a carjacker came flying off the bridge, hit the taxi, sent it spinning, and then backed back up 63rd to flee down Lexingon. And all before 8 in the morning. According to the super of a nearby building, the whole incident was captured on security cameras, so I should be checking the local evening news.
UPDATE: NO WAY, says Lisa Kline’s publicist. Check out the update at the bottom of the post. UPDATE UPDATE: Now the NY Times has moved the Two Lisa Klines Theory ball down the field.
The payee for several of the fashion-related “campaign accessories” receipts included in this $150,000 Palin Shopping Spree is listed as Lisa L Kine of New York City. So far, I haven’t found any such person at the address given in the report.
But there is Lisa Kline, whose Google result reads, “Lisa Kline boutique clothing has hot designer jeans and dress shirts inspired by celebrity fashion style. High-end fashion in Beverly Hills…” Indeed, Lisa Kline boutique is on Robertson Blvd, the, Ground Zero [sic] of celebrity fashion.
Kline also just so happens to be the source of the leopard-print swimsuit Paris Hilton wore in her ad lampooning John McCain after he criticized Obama as a “celebrity.” Please, please let this be the same person. NO WAY UPDATE:
I forwarded this Vimeo clip from Lisa Kline’s MySpace page to the owners of Pacifier, the Minneapolis baby store. They say they’re “pretty sure” that is the Republican Party operative who came in and purchased Trig Palin’s outfit a few hours before Sarah Palin’s speech at the GOP Convention.
[mini-doc] – Lisa Kline from [city of others] on Vimeo.
Let that sink in for a minute. I have a phoneathon for the kid’s preschool to attend. UPDATE: Lisa Kline says NO WAY, she’s not Lisa Kline. Or at least Lisa Kline’s publicist says Lisa Kline isn’t Lisa Kline. I spoke with Lisa Kline of Beverly Hills’ publicist, who said that, while she wishes she could take the publicity, it’s not her Lisa Kline. In fact, her Lisa Kline has never even been to Minneapolis, and she couldn’t have dressed Sarah Palin because Lisa Kline boutique doesn’t sell suits. Also, if I wanted, she could suggest some great items from Lisa Kline’s baby store on Robertson for little Trig Palin for my story. So I guess that clears that up.
I also just spoke with Jon from Pacifier again, and he’s still pretty sure that the woman he sold Trig’s outfit to looks and sounds like Beverly Hills Lisa in her MySpace video. I guess we’ll wait for the real [sic] Lisa Kline to step forward and accept her accolades from the world’s media. update update:: it’s not 100% yet, but the NY Times’ Caucus Blog makes a rather persuasive, data-based case that there are two Lisa Klines, one for Paris Hilton, and an entirely other one for Sarah Palin. They have different middle initials and everything.
Much less get me one of thesehere sweet Obama banners.
After almost a week of daily trips past this sign/awning company with giant vinyl Obama – HOPE banners by Shepherd Fairey on either side, I resolved to scale the building and steal them. One, at least one.
Alas, my diabolical plan was thwarted by the friendly guy laughing and waving at me as I snapped a photo–and the two hungry kids in the backseat. Oh well. And anyway, it looks like there’s a HopeCam perched above it.