Music

After posting about Luke Jerram's street piano project, I remembered Mark Johnson's amazing music related social activism project called Playing for Change, which my mom introduced me to this summer. The premise of Playing for Change is to use the common language of music to "break down boundaries and overcome distances between people," to create an international community. To do this, Johnson essentially invented a portable recording studio and carried it around the world in search of talented street musicians - Johnson and his crew compiled tracks of artists whom they recorded and then brought the compiled tracks to the other artists who added additional layers to the song. My description of the process does not do it justice by any means, but I promise you that the product is magical. Below is the Playing for Change "Stand By Me" song and video, check it out to see for yourself!



To learn more about Playing for Change, both the project and the organization, check out the website at www.playingforchance.com .

Oh No!

I'm feeling a bit like a detective at this moment - check out Dropped Cone (2001), which Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen installed at Neumarkt Galerie in Cologne, Germany... Does it remind you of something? Perhaps Wurm's House Attack (2006), which I called "original" in my last post...

Bummer...

Well even if the physical effect of the two works is quite similar, the messages are different, and arguably, eh, that's what counts... Of Dropped Cone Oldenburg and van Bruggen said that it is a "cornucopia of consumerism" and a "sign of transience."

To see more of Oldenburg and van Bruggen's (awesome) large-scale collaborations visit their website at www.oldenburgvanbruggen.com .

Pop-Art and its Frenemies

A few weeks ago Seth introduced me to the work of Austrian artist Erwin Wurm, whose Fat Convertible (2005) has been on my mind ever since. Wurm made a series of "fat cars," by essentially stuffing existing cars with styrofoam and fiberglass, thereby turning the sporty vehicles into comical, cartoonish (art) objects. In keeping with the current fad, Wurm is asking us to consider the connections between power, wealth, consumption, health, obesity, and perhaps the ways advertising affects each of these entities, and how art plays a role. As I see it, the most obvious of the many messages here is: when we lack the ability to practice restraint, we become useless. (Think Pixar's Wall-E.)

Something about Wurm's work seemed extremely familiar to me, though I had never seen it before. Perhaps most obviously, Wurm’s critique and celebration of consumerism and the values of contemporary society keeps with the tradition of Pop art from the 50's through the present.

Yet, after some thought about Wurm’s work, I realized that in terms of style, and perhaps message as well, Wurm's “fat series,” (he’s also made a fat house, etc,) is quite similar to Claes Oldenburg's The Store (1961). The Store was a storefront on NYC’s Lower East Side, which Oldenburg opened from December 1961 to January 1962, for the purpose of emphasizing the connections between art, commodity, and commerce. At The Store, Oldenburg created and sold food and household items, thereby elevating everyday goods to the status of art objects. It is also possible to analyze Wurm’s work through that lens, as of his early works, Wurm said, “I am interested in the object, in liberating it from its field, giving it a new validity and meaning. It is integrated in a different system of values and ideas: in that of art. In this way it loses its function and takes on another.” (Erwin Wurm interviewed by Desirée Schellerer for Design Vienna.) Whether or not you can see the similarity between the messages of the two artists, in terms of physicality, it is quite obvious that Wurm’s fat works are “high-tech” versions of Oldenburg’s swollen, glistening everyday, turned art objects.

On a more basic, or superficial level, the title of Wurm's work is eerily evocative of Joseph Beuys' creepy work. Beuys’ works are too disturbing to delve into in this lighthearted post, but in the 1960’s Beuys created a “fat series” of his own. To the right you can see Beuys’ Fat Battery (1963). Though extremely different in terms of physical appearance and message, I have to wonder if Wurm was deliberately channeling Beuys when naming his work. (Sorry for the rather cryptic and probably curiosity sparking nature of this paragraph, I promise a detailed post on Beuys is coming soon…)

So, funny and alluring as Wurm's "fat series” is, it just might not the most original group of artworks ever, but don't worry, the “fat series” is not all that Wurm has produced. If you want to see some crazy, cutting edge Wurm work, check out his House Attack (2006), an instillation that he implanted on the facade of Vienna's Museum Moderner Kunst (MUMOK). Of the work, Edelbert Kob, curator of MUMOK, said “House Attack is… A symbol for conservative, small-minded longings, the single-family house collides into the museum as a temple to the muses, and the museum itself now also becomes part of the sculpture. House Attack confuses our perception of art and everyday reality…”

1. Erwin Wurm, Fat Convertible, 2005. Mixed media. Private Collection, Brussels.

2. Claes Oldenburg, Floor Cake, 1962. Synthetic polymer paint and latex on canvas filled with foam rubber and cardboard boxes. MoMA, New York.

3. Joseph Beuys, Fat Battery, 1963. Felt, fat, tin, wood and board. Tate, London.

4. Erwin Wurm, House Attack, 2006. Instillation at MUMOK, Vienna.

Roman Remains

This past weekend Naomi and I went to Rome! The weekend was a wonderful whirlwind of site seeing, art appreciating, eating, and spending time with old and new friends.

Naomi met me at the museum after work and we walked to S. Lucia train station where we embarked on our four hour journey, with nothing more than a change of clothes, a picnic of supermarket snacks, oh and a money belt, my prized possession on this trip! The train undoubtedly turned out to be the most relaxing segment of our 60-hour journey.

We arrived in Rome just before midnight and Shuki, another lifelong friend and member of the 900 West End Avenue clan, picked us up from the train station and brought us back to his apartment. (Shuki is currently studying abroad in Rome and spent a week here with me in Venice just before heading there.)

We dropped our bags at Shuki’s place and went out for late night drinks, however by the time we got to the bars everything was closing, so Shuki took us to the Pantheon, which was a surreal way to be welcomed to Rome.

Unfortunately, it ended up taking us about two hours to get back to Shuki’s place as there seemed to be a problem with the busses. After over an hour and a half of walking, putting us at about 3:30 AM, thankfully Naomi took it upon herself to hail us a cab, which we took back to Shuki’s.

Just after our return to Shuki’s, one of his belligerently drunk roommates arrived on the scene crying hysterically because he had been mugged while he was sitting outside of a club puking. We spent the following two hours comforting Shuki’s roommate who was naturally quite shaken.

At 5:00 AM, as we were getting into bed, another belligerent roommate gracelessly stumbled into the apartment after having been lost roaming the streets for nearly three hours. He proceeded to jolt everyone in the house as he yelled about having lost some 50-euro worth of marijuana he had just purchased; ultimately the drugs turned up in his pocket.

Just past 6:00 AM, the house quieted down, and in a state of extreme gratitude that I am no longer in college having to deal with these sorts of issues on a regular basis, I was finally able to go to sleep.

That brings us to Rome day #1. Despite the rain, (which persisted throughout our entire visit,) we visited the Coliseum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish steps, and every gelato spot along the way. (If you are ever in Rome you must go to a gelato place called San Crispino, where I had the most outrageously delicious fig & walnut gelato). While I’m generally not a sucker for architecture, I must say that I was in complete awe as we approached the Coliseum, so much so that I nearly burst into tears upon stepping into the site. It is utterly amazing to me that over 1,000 years ago people were able to build such a massive structure, and that the structure still exists for us to enjoy today!

After our day full of site seeing, Shuki went home to do some work and Naomi and I sat at a cheesy restaurant in front of the Pantheon and decompressed over some wine and then had dinner at a cute “mozzarella bar” called Obikia, (which apparently also exists in NYC).

The next stop on our journey was Giulia’s house! Giulia is a native Roman who has lived in NYC for nearly 15 years, however her father and his girlfriend still live in Rome, and her mother and step-father, (who she lives with in New York,) still own an apartment in Rome as her mother, Fiamma, is a arts correspondent for a Roman daily paper, and her step-father, Sandro, the owner of a fabulous contemporary art gallery called Il Gabbiano, (meaning the seagull, which is an allusion to Sandro’s hometown by the sea, as well as his favorite Chekov play). You can check out Il Gabbiano’s website at www.galleriailgabbiano.com . It was worth going to Rome simply to be hosted by Giulia, Fiamma, and Sandro, three of the kindest, most hospitable, generous, and interesting people I have ever met.

A buffet of homemade snacks, including tarallucci, apple cake, quiche, and fresh fruit, awaited us upon our arrival at Giulia’s, however Naomi and I were so worn out that we literally passed out within minutes of arriving.

When we woke up the following day, Fiamma drove us all over Rome, to every museum, with the intention of giving us a grand tour of Rome’s art scene, however it turned out that nearly everything with exception to MACRO, one of Rome’s contemporary art museums, was closed. We had difficulties getting into MACRO’s galleries as there was a dancing woman blocking up the halls. Nonetheless we managed to enter one interesting gallery containing an exhibition called “Rome: We Were the Avant-Garde,” created by Graziella Lonardi Buontempo, an Italian cultural figurehead of the 70’s. Given that all of the show’s information was in Italian, I didn’t really understand much, however what I liked about the show was that much of the art was in drawers that the visitors had to open, making engaging with the art an physically interactive experience, adding a playful tone to the typically formal nature of museums.

After MACRO, Fiamma drove us to Il Gabbiano, which Sandro opened to us for a private tour and a picnic lunch from a delicious local spot that a tourist like myself would have never found without the help of tour guide Giulia. Sandro shared stories of how he got involved in the art dealing business – as a product of his father’s interest in art, Sandro has been interested in art from a young age; he never formally studied art, rather he happened upon the business in his early twenties and has pursued it since. Additionally, Sandro taught us about some of the artists he represents, such as Norman Bluhm and Emerson Woellffer, who are considered second-generation abstract expressionist artists. (Sandro also represents some huge names like Bochner, Motherwell, Rauschenberg, Rosenquist, Ruscha, Francis, Tapies, etc). Oh and Sandro represents Manolo Valdes, an artist whose work I fell in love with when it was exhibited in Bryant Park a few years ago – check out his bronze sculptures based on Velazquez’ Las Meninas, on the right.

From Il Gabbiano, Naomi and I went to the Vatican to see the Sistine Chapel, the reason we decided to take our trip to Rome in the first place. Unfortunately, in typical Italian style, the Sistine Chapel closes at 2:00 PM, meaning that Naomi and I missed our opportunity, perhaps a cosmic sign that we’ll have to venture back to Rome one day. So, Naomi and I went to see the Vatican, which was really the most ornate, elaborate, dare I say ostentatious, place I have ever seen.

After the Vatican we strolled the streets of Rome, stopping for snacks here and there, until about 9:00 PM when we returned to Giulia’s to pack up our backs for our overnight train home.

Giulia and her parents had dinner plans, but her mother cooked us a beautiful dinner, as a send off gift – talk about the most gracious hosts ever! Thinking that our train was at 11:00 PM, we requested that Giulia reserve a cab for us at 10:15 PM, but at about 9:50 we realized our train was actually at 10:30 and we needed to hustle to the train station. Luckily the cab was able to come early and we made it to the station on time, with a warning from the driver that Tiburtina, (the smaller train station in Rome,) is one of the most dangerous parts of the city.

Perhaps the driver was right, or perhaps Naomi and I were simply scared out of our wits and overreacting to our surroundings, however this is what we saw at the train station: drugs, crazies, homeless people, crying dogs, ill behaved men, no security or persons to ask which platform our train was arriving at, smokers, and gloom.

Our train pulled up to the station with hoards of men hanging out of the cloudy windows yelling and throwing beer cans! Everyone stampeded onto the train, leaving Naomi and I utterly confused, until we finally found our “bedroom,” which was guarded by a middle aged Russian lady who stood in the doorway in a prostitute like pose greeting us by shouting that both of the bottom bunk-beds were hers and if we didn’t understand that she would not let us into the room. Scared shitless we agreed to sleep on the top beds only to be further frightened by the fact that the woman touched, grabbed, fondled, and slapped Naomi’s butt several times, to demonstrate that she has a “Russian ass.”

Naomi and I figured we could either laugh or cry, so for about an hour we laughed until we finally feel asleep with contacts still in, teeth unbrushed, face unwashed, and pajamas not on, for fear of catching a disease in the abysmal train bathroom.

In the middle of the night we were awoken by the screeching halt of the train, which had hit something and smelled as if it was on fire. For an hour the train did not move, the conductors ran up and down in search of the cause, the men yelled, our roommate prayed aloud to saints of all sorts, and Naomi and I laughed some more…

At 6:00 AM, we finally arrived in Venice, and could not have been happier to be greeted by a beautiful sunrise, silence, and the ultimate sense of serenity and peace that is characteristic of this quaint 1,000 year old, utterly gorgeous city. I never thought I’d say this about a place besides NYC, but I felt so happy to be home.

1. Rome!

2. Naomi on the train.

3. Pantheon at night.

4. Naomi, Shuki, and me at the Coliseum.

5. Naomi and me in front of the Pantheon.

6. Giulia at MACRO.

7. Manolo Valdes' interpretation of Las Maninas, installing in front at Bryant Park.

8. Beautiful detail from the Vatican.

9. Venice!

Bringing Music to the People

My friend Jess knows about the coolest projects! British artist Luke Jerram (www.lukejerram.com) created a traveling instillation called "Play Me I'm Yours" in which he put pianos on the streets in various neighborhoods to give people from all different backgrounds and walks of life the opportunity to make music! Check out the project's website to learn more and to find out about the locations of Jerram's street pianos: www.streetpianos.com .

The Big Draw

Last night at dinner Jess told me about a program that began in the U.K. in 2000 called "The Big Draw." The goal of the program is to utilize the month of October to bring people together through the act of drawing, and to foster human creativity through worldwide art projects and a rejection of the term "I can't draw."

In an art class I took during my freshmen year of college I learned that our artistic skills remain at the level of the time we stop producing art. In other words, as little kids we all draw, but by the end of grade school when mandatory art classes are dropped from our curriculums, many of us stop utilizing our artistic powers leaving them stagnate, and perhaps even causing them to regress. Not that we all need to be master artists, and by no means is that the goal of "The Big Draw," but as Malcolm Gladwell, (referencing scientific studies by neurologist Daniel Levitin,) explains in his book Outliers, 10,000 hours are required to become a master, or expert in anything.

Anyway, the initiative sounds amazing and has received international acclaim. I believe that The Drawing Center of NYC participated in 2009, does anyone else know of other NY institutions that took part? If you are interested in learning more about "The Big Draw," or in registering your organization / institution, visit the website of the Campaign For Drawing at www.campainfordrawing.org .

Hands

Arshile Gorky, The Artist and His Mother, c. 1926–36, Oil on canvas, Whitney Museum of American Art.

A lot has happened since I last updated! Naomi Telushkin, one of my lifelong best friends from NYC visited, we went to Rome, (details to follow,) old interns left and new interns arrived, my roommates and I hosted the first full blown Peggy Guggenheim Collection intern house party of 2010, and I got a terrible infection in the ring finger of my right hand.

One of my closest PGC friends, Giulia Thoedoli had her lovely stepfather, Sandro, take a look at my extremely inflamed finger when we were in Rome. Thankfully Sandro advised me to go to the pharmacy to seek immediate care, because his advice probably saved my finger from amputation, (okay maybe that’s extreme)… Regardless, after a week of constantly applying topical antibiotics to my hands, my finger is now almost fully healed.

As you can imagine, I have spent a lot of time over the past week or two caring for, and analyzing, my fingers, and I came to the conclusion that hands are extremely important not only for the obvious reason that they make us capable of nearly everything we do, but also for their sentimental attributes. Hands are evocative of emotions and memories, and they are telling of certain characteristics such as age, gender, and career. I know exactly what the hands of each person I am close to look like, even the hands of people I love but haven’t seen in years, like my grandpa who passed away more than 27 months ago. Grandpa Julie bit his nails extremely low and always had rough cuticles as a product of that habit. He had large, thick, strong, man-hands. He was a gardener. He was a great tickler and always won our thumb-wars.

One Pre-Abstract Expressionist artist I admire, Arshile Gorky created a painting titled The Artist and His Mother (1926-36). The painting is about memories, loss, and a search for home, themes that are prevalent in many of Gorky’s works, as when Gorky was young, his family was exiled from Armenia and sought refuge in the U.S., where his mother died of starvation in his arms. The Artist and His Mother specifically serves to capture Gorky’s longing for his mother. The emotional nature of the subject matter caused Gorky to take nearly ten years to complete this painting.

The composition of the work is based on a photo of Gorky, as a child, standing beside his mother. To me, the most interesting aspect of the work is the fact that despite having spent a decade on the creation of this painting, the hands of the artist’s mother are merely white circles. There are two popular interpretations regarding this detail: 1) Gorky used a loose, painterly style that was conducive to leaving parts of the work unfinished because his memories of his mother and her tragic death were patchy. 2) Gorky’s mother’s hands are meant to appear covered / wrapped up, (as apposed to incomplete,) to highlight her absence by alluding to her inability to touch.

However, I believe that Gorky left his mother’s hands unfinished because it was too painful for him to recreate this extremely nostalgic part of her body. He missed holding her hands, he missed watching her use her hands to create, his missed his mother’s loving material touch, he missed having a mother… After all, there is no image more clear or easily accessible to a child than his mother’s hands.

A Happy Space

I'm sorry for my lack of updates recently, I've been busy moving into my new apartment! So, I haven't quite expressed just how terrible my last place was, but as Talia put is best, "this place is like living in camp!" Which, for those of you who don't know, means shoes in the shower, mold growing everywhere, floors so dirty they simply can't be cleaned, no way of washing clothing, virtually no kitchen, and absolutely no closets... you get the picture. But enough of the negativity because this new place is amazing and I'd rather focus on that! And the best part!?! Naomi Telushkin, my best friend from NYC, has just arrived to enjoy my new place with me, and infuse it with positive energy!

Actually, my living situation since arriving in Venice reminds me of a Jewish folk tale that I will share with you:

A poor man lived with his wife and six children in a very small home. They were always getting in each other's way and there was so little space they could hardly breathe! The man went to the rabbi to ask for advice regarding the overcrowding. The rabbi told the man to bring all of his cows and chickens into his home to live with him and his family. The poor man was astonished to hear this advice from the rabbi, but did as the rabbi said. The next day the poor man ran back to see the rabbi and said, "What have you done to me, Rabbi? My life is absolutely terrible now!" The rabbi responded, "Go home now and take the animals out of your house." The poor man did as the Rabbi said and the next day he came running back to the rabbi and with a big smile on his face he said, "Thank you rabbi, our house is so quiet and spacious now, we are so grateful!"

Check out this short tour of my new apartment, which I made using the FLIP my Abbagave me for Hanukkah!

*Oops, the video file is too large for me to upload with my dinky internet - I will upload it as soon as I make to to an internet cafe. Thanks for your patience!*