Louise Bourgeois...

...passed away today, at age 98. One of the most influential, accomplished women artists ever - a feminist, a comedian, a cultural iconoclast who challenged conformity by dipping into untouched mediums and taboo subject matter, a cutting edge player in a cut throat culture... An art historical treasure.

Robert Mapplethorpe, Photograph of Louise Bourgeois with her sculpture Fillete (1968, latex), 1982.

Transcendence

These images are by an Italian artist named Alberto Seveso who I found on Behance.net. They magically create the illusion that they transcend the boundaries between photography, sculpture, painting, and textile. They are beautiful but eerily bodily. They are photographs of varnish dropping into a fishbowl. Seveso calls them Medicina Rossa. To see the blue sequence click here.

Perfect Imperfections

I found this photograph on deviantART.com, it is by an artist named Siols. To see more of her work, check out her website. In case you can't read it, the quote on the model's legs says "I am far from perfect but I will be perfect for that imperfect someone who is perfect for me."

Being Busy

During my short blogging hiatus I've been busy with several exciting things:

1. I became Annie Cohen-Solal's assistant. Those of you who don't know of Annie should definitely Google her because she's an incredibly important writer, teacher, and figure in the world of art and culture related politics. Knopf is about to release her third book, Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli. The book has already been reviewed by countless news sources and tomorrow there will be a review of the book in the New York Times, so keep your eyes peeled! (By the way, I am now working for Annie in the mornings and interning at Gagosian Gallery in the afternoons - talk about pressure! Oh well, nothing better than a thrillingly full, and might I add hectic/stressful, life!)

2. I submitted my MoMA twelve-month internship application, (though sadly I realized that when opened on a version of Word other than mine, the link to this blog gets cut from my resume).

3. I started a new blog: www.rookietoart.blogspot.com . Unlike this blog, through which I share events occurring in my life as well as my own aesthetic preferences, my new blog will be filled with imaginary conversations that take place between me and an art rookie. The conversations intend to show ways that art can be made accessible for people with absolutely no knowledge of art at all; in other words, I'm showing how engaging art can be, even for newbies. The idea for Rookie to Art stemmed from a question I responded to on the MoMA application, which was something like 'why are you applying for this position at MoMA?' I realized that quite clearly the reason that I applied for the curatorial internship at MoMA is because I have grown up on MoMA, have a deep love for their collection, and I want to help make their artwork meaningful to others. I fear that currently modern art museums cater toward an audience well versed in art history and theory, leaving those most in need of guidance, (the majority,) to fend for themselves. So, I thought, what better way to express the sentiment that art can be brought to life for everyone than to show my ability to do so?! And next thing I knew I'd written imaginary conversations between me and art-rookies, in which I help people feel confident in their ability to understand MoMA's art, giving them a taste that leaves them wanting more... The first of my MoMA rookie conversations is the one I submitted to MoMA within my application - it takes place in the Jackson Pollock gallery. The second conversation is the one currently posted on the blog - feel free to check it out. I have many more pending and hope to expand beyond MoMA's collection one day.

On a side note, though as always not entirely, I must say that I have the most interesting conversations about art with Andrew Kurland, (the friend who introduced me to the work of J. Siegan, who I posted about a few weeks ago). He often sends me links to artists and works he finds interesting; in fact, I think he told me about Maira Kalman vis-a-vis her New York Times blog And the Pursuit of Happiness, through which she never fails to churn out the most engaging and funny illustrated, completely random stories.

Anyway, I've been thinking about Gerhard Richter lately in light of my promise to share details/thoughts on the Richter exhibition that Alexander and I saw in Florence. I haven't yet come up with a full riff on Richter, but I did find the piece below which I shared with Andrew because I find it both interesting and beautiful.

I told Andrew that I like the colors, the movement, and the silky feeling which the medium produces. He agreed, adding that it looks like an ocean. I thought for a second and said, "The ocean!?! Yeah, maybe when the plague of blood hit Egypt!" So this piece changed from conjuring the image of a child exquisitely attuned to color theory, to a plague infested mess. (Or as Andrew noted, it could be the backdrop of an 80's dance party, shoulder pads and all, but that's besides the point...)

But fun and games aside, one of the qualities I admire about Andrew is his deep effort to be psychologically aware and emotionally conscious. So, channeling Andrew as I rode the subway home today, I thought of the potential subconscious reasons I might like the piece. Call this analysis simplistic but to me this painting is a bundle of excitement in an aggressive environment, that all in all seems to be a bit of a mess, a little confused. I cannot tell my life story in one sentence, but I'd say that describes me pretty aptly right now.

1. Cover of Annie Cohen-Solal's new book Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli, which is for sale this week!

2. Gerhard Richter, G.A.4 (21.1.84), 1984. Colored ink, watercolor, pencil, and crayon on paper. Museum of Modern Art, New York.

Arcade Games

Went to Dia Beacon yesterday - hands down the best museum experience of my life. Loved everything about it from the train journey upstate along the water, to the industrial space with old yet perfectly smooth wood floors, to the warm and heavenly atmosphere created by the oversized windows and skylights that let in light which reflects off the pure white walls, to, most importantly, the astounding collection of modern and contemporary art, both conceptually and aesthetically oriented.

Extensive Dia post in the works, but in the meantime I couldn't help but post the picture above, which reminds me of the arcade game called Wacky Gator (right), where you bop the alligator so as to prevent it from exiting its cove. Not sure if that analogy is apt or not, but it kept Seth and I laughing for several minutes... I mean, you do have to look very carefully to tell the difference between the cubes, just as you'd have to watch the alligator coves careful to ensure no getaways; nah, I'm overanalyzing - the culprit's probably just the eerie box with the lid that looks like it's floating...

1. Donald Judd, untitled, 1976. Plywood boxes. Dia Art Foundation, New York.

2. Photo of Wacky Gator too, probably from the 80's.

Someone Great

Sharon probably hasn't seen my last post yet, so before she does I thought I'd post this video to make amends. It's the music video for a song by LCD Soundsystem called "Someone Great." Sharon, Yael, and I went to the filming of the video with Seth in Brooklyn several years ago - I think the whole video is pretty radical, but if you are pressed for time fast forward to 2:46...

There you have it, a whole three seconds of just Sharon's stunning eyes. See, I wasn't lying in my last post when I said Sharon is beautiful. And you can be rest assured her beauty extends far deeper than the physical.

Art History Jokes

I apologize in advance to the victims...

Edgar Degas, Cafe Concert Singer, 1878. Pastel on canvas. The Fogg Art Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusettes AND my beautiful best friend Sharon at the Meatpacking District's Brass Monkey, late last Saturday night.

George Grosz, The Poet Max Herrmann-Neisse, 1927. Oil on canvas. MoMA, New York, New York. AND a very unflattering shot of Victor, Alexander's father, relaxing at Robuchon on Christmas eve of 2008.

PICASSO

This week at the Christie's sale, his 1932 painting Nu au Plateau de Sculpteur (Nude, Green Leaves and Bust) (1932) became the most expensive work ever sold at an auction, selling for a whopping $106.5 million; his Metropolitan Museum retrospective, which includes nearly all of the hundreds of his works owned by the Met, has gotten mixed reviews, though most critics have labeled it nothing more glamorous than a big-name hodgepodge; a California art dealer in her 70's admitted to selling a fake of his work for $2 million and is now likely headed to jail; his current MoMA prints exhibition, which I saw and loved last week with my dear family friend Shifra, is yet another testament to his prolificness; a goon stumbled into one of his works at the Metropolitan, resulting in the

creation of a hole in the canvas and an expensive repair job; oh and Gagosian Gallery in Anthens just closed an exhibition of his linocuts, which is especially cool to me because I intern for Gagosian!

However, in my mind the most wonderful Picasso news of 2010, at least so far as New York City is concerned, is brought to you by sidewalk artist Hani Shihada. In four words: Shihada makes art accessible. Chalk as his medium and NYC pavement as his canvas, Shihada both replicates famous works of art and creates his own masterpieces.

Most recently he recreated Picasso's Le Reve (The Dream) (1932) outside of the Carlyle Hotel, just blocks from the Met, to draw (haha) attention to the opening of their Picasso show. Pardon the momentary tangent, but in light of the fact that The Dream is from the same period as Nude, Green Leaves and Bust (the work from the Christie's auction,) and Woman with Yellow Hair (1931), which I saw on display at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum just a few days ago, it strikes me as important to share with you that all three of these works are portraits of Marie-Therese, a teenager with whom a married, middle-aged Picasso had an affair. Picasso was known to have been intoxicated by his love for the young woman and thus his works in which she is the subject are highly erotic; in fact, they are often considered the most sexually charged of Picasso's works. (For example, you might notice that in The Dream the upper half of Marie-Therese's head looks like a phallus.)

So, back to Shihada for a moment: In a recent Daily News article they quoted him saying "This [the sidewalk] is my gallery, the way I like to reach people... It goes straight to the people."

I love that quote because it articulates one of Shihada's goals, which is to reclaim the word "gallery." He shows that galleries don't have to be daunting, exclusive, expensive places, rather galleries can be places that open art to the public, or in Shihada's words, places where art is brought straight to the people.

But Shihada does more than open art to the public in the visual sense, he also makes his viewers think seriously about art's place in society. He invites us to reflect on the artist's process by allowing masses of people to gather around him as he works in a public space, an unusual opportunity given that most artists create in a studio, behind closed doors. In making his process public, Shihada gives us a moment to appreciate the intensity of an artist's labor and the devotion that it takes to be an artist, to produce art. Similarly, as people pass by his work, they naturally ask themselves 'should I walk on the creation, the art, or is that sacrilegious? Why is it that it feels wrong to walk upon it?' Etc.

And even if people aren't intellectualizing Shihada's work as I just have, at least they are exposed to art, they are given the opportunity, free of charge, to visually place a painting with some big name artist they might have only previously heard of, something art historians pay thousands of dollars of tuition to do...

1. Pablo Picasso, Nude, Green Leaves and Bust, 1932. Oil on Canvas. Private Collection.

2. Pablo Picasso, The Dream, 1932. Oil on Canvas. Private Collection.

3. Pablo Picasso, Woman with Yellow Hair, 1931. Oil on Canvas. Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York, New York.

Horse Races

My friend Andrew Kurland just asked me what I thought of the painting above, which is by artist J. Siegan, a friend of Andrew's father. My own personal aesthetic aside, I noted the interesting juxtaposition between the Asian inspired feeling of the work, with its quick and minimal black brushstrokes, and the very western subject matter.

After my comment, Andrew paused for a second and then asked, "What's western about it?"

"It's a dude on a skateboard, what could be more western than that?" I said.

"That's interesting," he said, "because I see a guy in a full lotus position, meditating, crying."

I see what Andrew's saying, but I'm not convinced given that Siegan is influenced by both the Zen school and the city of Chicago. However, Siegan also cites Robert Motherwell as an influence, and while I certainly don't see that in the painting above, I do see it in the painting to the left, which I, unlike Andrew, much prefer...

And there you have it - that's what makes horse races...

Or perhaps more appropriately, given the theme of this blog - nothing better than space for interpretation and individual opinion...

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1. Jerry Siegan, #60.

2. Jerry Siegan, Yearning for the Past.