Dollar Note

First it was the Barbican exhibit of zebra finches playing guitars, and then the antique pistols that mechanical birds come out of and dance around. I don't know why birds used in technology always make me happy, but they do. The latest is better to me than pistols or guitars –



It's called Dollar Note, by Robert Gligorov. Apparently there are two white uprights standing back-to-back, and the perches in the birdcage attached to the top touch random keys on the pianos. When the birds jump from perch to perch, the respective notes are played.

I'd love to see and hear the thing IRL, it's beautiful. (via today and tomorrow.)

Global English

This beautiful piece of art showed up at our office this week:



It is called Global English, by James Clar. In his words:

This piece is a reaction to countries such as the UAE where younger generations are exposed more to English language though work, school, and pop culture, and now favour English over their native Arabic.

Every language has rules that allow us to formulate thought and transfer that thought to other people. However, the structure and rules of each language makes certain ideas easier to express in one language as opposed to another. While a global communication medium is necessary, we need to explore what we gain from the use of English and what we lose from it. In this piece, the words 'global english' are phonetically spelled out in Arabic, forcing an Arabic speaker to speak in English.

I didn't know that Clar himself was the one installing it in our office until Josh sent an email around about the piece. I instantly hit the ceiling, starstruck; I've been a fan of his for a while. Most notably: The Rat Race and the New York Times 'T' Style Magazine logo. 

Sing For Hope's Pop-Up Pianos 2011: A Preview

I got a text message from my friend Marc yesterday morning, saying he was painting an upright piano downtown and that I should visit him. He was working in a huge corporate building, so I was prepared to see him painting a piano all by himself in a cavernous lobby. When he led me through the door to his work space, I was standing in a room filled with pianos – uprights, baby grands, and grands – all hand painted.









If you live in New York, you might remember that there were 60 pianos placed all over the city for a couple of weeks last summer. Well, it's happening again this year, brought to us by Sing for Hope – an organization that brings artists together to volunteer their time for the benefit of the local community (schools, hospitals, etc.). This particular initiative is called Pop-Up Pianos, and will run from June 18th until July 2nd. Their vision is "that all New Yorkers – from Rockaway to Riverdale, Stapleton to Sunset Park – have access to the arts." Watch this trailer of sorts --



Here are shots of Marc's --







Fucking beautiful, no? Also stunning: Here are two of Chris's (one of Marc's best friends, and a friend of mine as well) --









(See the rest here.)

First of all, I've never been in the midst of so many pianos before (there are 88 this year).* This – along with (1) Knowing exactly what these pianos in various stages of transformation were planned for; and (2) That I've been playing for 24 years/pianos have great significance to me – made yesterday afternoon the most overwhelming thing that has happened to me all year.

Be on the lookout come June 18th; on that day you'll be able to see which artist's piano is where on the map on the site (Marc is hoping his goes to Coney Island). You can also follow them on Twitter for news. Man, I haven't felt this strongly about a local nonprofit in ages. Sing For Hope, this is going to be awesome.

-

For more (all over the place) perusing:
A piano-related video I made a while ago
A crazy discussion on major & minor key on AskMeFi
Antiquated Giant, a mural Chris painted a couple of years ago
Beyoncé's new Run The World (Girls) video – Marc painted a bunch of the posters in the background

* Coincidence that there are 88 keys on a piano, and 88 pianos this year? I don't think so ;)

Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen

I took the day off today, and set out for the MoMA bright and early for some much-needed inspiration. I didn't know what I would find, really, as I haven't been great at reading my member emails. The most delightful surprise was an exhibit that's been around for around 4 months, called Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen.



In their words:

Over the course of the past century no other room has been the focus of such intensive aesthetic and technological innovation, or as loaded with cultural significance. Kitchen design has been both a central concern of modernism and fundamental to our concept of modern life. Drawn entirely from MoMA’s collection, this exhibition explores the twentieth-century transformation of the kitchen as a barometer of changing technologies, aesthetics, and ideologies.

I read this description after walking around for a bit, and found that I'm definitely not alone in my fascination with kitchens. I don't do a ton of cooking, though I love the idea of it and always plan to do more. I always love kitchen-related gifts the most (you should have seen me when I opened a wine foil cutter at Christmas), love kitchen-related photography, and always daydream when I apartment-hunt that I'll find one with a window to filter Saturday morning sunlight in as I make tea. Not sure why, the way I frame kitchens in my head... it's almost like peering into a dollhouse.

Anyway, the exhibit. What a delight. There were rotating models of 70s modular kitchens, movie stills from the 50s, a plastic food collection from Japan, old appliances, historical photographs and ads (I noticed one on loan from DDB's archive, how cool is that), kitchen efficiency books, and a ton of stuff about the "Frankfurt Kitchen," which was part of a movement in 20s Germany relating to egalitarianism. Here are some pictures I took with my phone (why I didn't bring my camera today, I have no idea) --


This is an Irving Penn photo. I recently found out that he shot the first Clinique print ads, in the 1960s. Cool, no?


I have worked with GE for quite some time, so this was far out and awesome to see.


This was the first thing I saw when I walked in. Looking closely revealed old egg shells in the egg cups and cigarettes in the ashtray.

I also saw this thing – and I'm really annoyed that I didn't take a picture of it – that looked like a small bicycle wheel. I knew was it was before I even read the plaque: it was a cake slicer. My head blew up a little, because I've throughout my life always remembered this Betty Boop cartoon that features her inventor-friend, Grampy, opening an umbrella skeleton and pushing it down onto a cake to slice it instantly. I always thought that was so cool, and I can't believe it's actually a thing that existed once. Why don't I ever see those now? It seems like the most efficient way to do things, ever.



Anyway. I recommend paying this exhibit a visit if you're in the area and this sounds remotely interesting to you. Here is the exhibit site (there is a blog, too!). Also a few more pictures with commentary in this Flickr set.

Takashi Murakami x Versailles

When I see something covered over and over on different platforms and Twitter feeds, my typical reaction is to ignore it forever. This is why I didn't see the Arcade Fire video until a week after it launched; I guess the buzz just annoys me and I don't even want to bother. But this instance was too weird, and well, it appealed to two loves of mine: fine art and contemporary art.

Within 3 minutes, I saw this tweet:


This blog post:


And received this email:


It's almost like my noticeably fast adoration of the new Blonde Redhead album, except it's the Internet with Takashi Murakami having 22 pieces displayed all over Versailles.

TAKASHI MURAKAMI// Exposition Versailles from OFIVE.TV on Vimeo.

This is kind of AWESOME. I can't even imagine how this could have happened; I don't know a lot about the recent history of art being on display at Versailles (or even who is in charge of something like that), but over time I've noticed a sometimes-prickly divide between lovers of fine art and lovers of contemporary art. Especially since even though Takashi Murakami is most widely known for his happy, psychedelically-colored flowers (did you know he also created six little mascots for the Tokyo district Roppongi?), he has also made some pretty controversial stuff (maybe don't click on that link if your entire office has full view of your monitor, just saying. It's art, but it's definitely leaning more toward NSFW).


[from Flavorwire]

It's very disarming and delightful to see the imagery of bubbly creatures juxtaposed in front of Rigaud and Bernini works. If in the past you could only imagine these two guys hanging out…



…now you can see it for real. If you get over there by 12 December (or before the angry French protesters kill it, whichever comes first), that is.

Mr. Brainwash presents ICONS

Last night Ana and I checked out the Mr. Brainwash ICONS show in the Meatpacking District. I remember being drawn to it because of the huge can of pink paint (I've been wanting to paint my closets this color for months); noticing a few other blogs cynically and aggressively hating it made me want to go more. It opened a month ago to lines around the block, but last night at 8pm it was practically ours.





As the name suggests, the show is about cultural icons. The style is similar to Banksy's, and some people even think that Banksy is Mr. Brainwash. Banksy made a movie called Exit Through The Gift Shop that screened at Sundance and apparently features him. The trailer reminds me of A Cross The Universe in a way, and I want to get my hands on it.



Anyway, about the show. There were lots of screen prints of people's faces - an art wall featuring guys like Basquiat, Damien Hirst, and Roy Lichtenstein; two fashion walls facing each other, one with models and the other featuring designers; lots of Madonna. There were also musician portraits made from pieces of broken up LPs, replicas of famous paintings with bits of contemporary culture snuck in, and installations of familiar brands & symbols. Two of my favorites were the Michelin man constructed out of tires, and a full-sized NYC taxi in Matchbox Car packaging. Brand names ranging from Campbell's Soup to Louis Vuitton were displayed on big spray paint cans. And there was a HUGE boom box downstairs.







ICONS is open until 31st March and has super convenient hours; free signed posters too. See some more pictures in this Flickr set.

Mr. Brainwash presents ICONS
415 W. 13th Street
www.mrbrainwash.com

Zebra finches playing guitars

As you may know by now, sometimes wildly awesome things that have been around for a long time fly completely over my head for months (sometimes years) before I discover them. Barbican Centre might be one of those things. It's an arts complex in London that features visual art, music, dance, theatre, film, and education events. One part of the complex is called The Curve, for very apparent reasons:


The Curve is home to Curve Art, which is "A series of new site-specific commissions created for The Curve by contemporary artists." The one up right now looks awesome. It's by a French artist named Céleste Boursier-Mougenot, and features a bunch of musical instruments arranged throughout the space (mostly electric guitars, it seems). Also in the space: a bunch of little zebra finches!

Boursier-Mougenot’s installation for The Curve, his first solo exhibition in the UK, takes the form of a walk-though aviary for a flock of zebra finches, furnished with electric guitars and other musical instruments. As the birds go about their routine activities, perching on or feeding from the various pieces of equipment, they create a random and captivating soundscape.

If that sounds a little confusing, this video should help:


I love that! I like the concept alone, but the way that bright green and flecks of orange are brought together amongst muted grays and butter creams – with distortion and tiny tweets as a background – makes me smile throughout the entire thing.

[img via the exhibition page]
If you're in London before the 23rd of May and end up catching it, let me know! Special thanks to Roxy for sharing this with me.

Audrey Kawasaki @ Jonathan LeVine

I was fortunate enough to catch the final day of Audrey Kawasaki's NY exhibit today with The Retrospective's Gitamba, who was in NY for a few wonderful days. It's called Hajimari–a prelude, and was at Jonathan LeVine Gallery on W 20th Street.



For those who are unfamiliar with her work, Kawasaki does illustration and painting on wood. They are nearly all of beautiful girls with pouts and flowy hair, oftentimes featuring underwater themes, skeletons, and creepy little creatures.

The show title Hajimari means beginning in Japanese, and is a word often used in the introduction of a story. Although it is a theme she does not typically explore artistically, Audrey has always felt strongly rooted in two distinct cultures. Born and raised in America, with parents from Japan, she has been immersed in Japanese culture her entire life. Deeply connected to each of the two, she feels both cultures are very much a part of her personal identity.

I haven't gone through my mental list yet, but I can say with a huge degree of confidence that she is my favorite living artist (and has been for a number of years). And there were so many pieces at the show, much to my delight! Here are a few:







You can see a few more in my Flickr set, and the exhibit's page has images of all pieces + a description of the show. Hopefully it stays up for a while. Beautiful beautiful beautiful.

Spiral Jetty and Time

Almost all of the photography projects I'm ever involved with deal with time in some way. This, paired with my desire to visit Spiral Jetty in Utah by myself one day, made How to Conserve Art That Lives in a Lake? a pretty great find last week.

I had a dream about a year ago in which I found Spiral Jetty leading off of a beach on a tropical island, and walked to the end of it in a vast silence. It took me a few hours of creative Googling the next day to figure out whether or not this place actually existed, or if I had quite literally dreamed it up. It turns out that I learned about it in my AP Art History class in 2000, and it chose eight years later to show up in my subconscious. Ever since, I've wanted to buy a plane ticket to Utah and walk out to the middle of it by myself. Bud almost gave me a heart attack when I half told him this story a couple of months ago and he responded with, "I don't think that actually exists anymore."

Well, he was half right, it turns out. Apparently it was submerged for decades, and droughts caused it to resurface recently. Robert Smithson (the artist) was always into what the passage of time did to his works, and it's too bad he didn't live to see it come back out of the water. It looks a lot different now; salt and silt have whitened it considerably, and over the years people have also taken pieces of it with them as souvenirs.

The photography part of it comes in with Dia, the art foundation that owns the piece. They wanted to find a way to photograph Spiral Jetty longitudinally to see how the passage of time's effect on it could influence conservation efforts in the future. Because it's so huge, it was hard to figure out a way to do this without blowing through thousands (millions?) of dollars. They finally got there with a latex weather balloon, helium, fishing line, assorted tools, and a point-and-shoot. Pretty awesome, no? Anyway, I was happy that the article brought it back into my consciousness. I still want to go, too. Does anybody know if people are even allowed to walk to the end of it?

Fall 2009 Art in Chelsea

I went to Chelsea today intending to visit one gallery, and ended up going to more than ten. It's a really, really good time to make the trip there, and I stumbled upon a few things that delighted me so much I was hopping in place.

Luke Smalley @ Clampart

It started with Luke Smalley. He passed away this past May, and Clampart is hosting a memorial exhibit of his Sunday Drive series. I haven't been this impressed with photography since I discovered Jeff Wall's light boxes by accident. The pictures are pretty big, and the colors and lighting are beautiful. The story is that three girls are taking a road trip to a prison where their boyfriends are incarcerated, and the boys are killing time until they arrive.

[images from clampart.com]

Chiharu Shiota @ Goff + Rosenthal

I think I was in disbelief when my friend Joe and I walked by Goff + Rosenthal and I saw the tangle of black threading through the door. I just found out about Chiharu Shiota two or three months ago, and have thought about her every few days since then. Her work has a lot of thread tangles (black and red), windows, pianos, and long dresses in it. This exhibit featured some sprawling black corners and boxed-in tangled objects (my favorite was a hardcover pocket book) suspended in black tangles. This was the most pleasant surprise of the day.

[images from chiharu-shiota.com]

Dan Flavin @ David Zwirner

I visited this one a couple of weeks ago with my friend Dan because I love light installations and I love Dan Flavin. I loved it so much that I had to go back today. I might make a fake one of these for my apartment one of these days. There's a huge room with pink and gold lights, and another part of David Zwirner with multiple rooms (each for a different color or color combination). My favorite might be the white room, even though the blue one is probably the most striking.

[white and pink & gold from davidzwirner.com]

Basquiat @ Stellan Holm Gallery

Wow! Walking by Stellan Holm and seeing this made me gasp like a complete creep. It's a small exhibit of some large Basquiat drawings. Made me smile and want to pour syrup all over a tabletop.

[image screen capped from stellanholm.com]

Andy Warhol @ Danzinger Projects

Double wow! This one at Danzinger Projects is called Greatness, and is a collection of Polaroids Warhol shot of famous athletes in the 1970s and 1980s. Think Muhammad Ali, Dorothy Hamill, and (yikes) OJ Simpson. Here's a good slideshow on The Moment.

Other highlights of the day included Kim Cogan @ Gallery Henoch (really pretty oil paintings of NYC scenes); Hockney @ PaceWildenstein; and John Wesley @ Fredericks & Freiser (Googling John Wesley only to find that there was an Anglican cleric by the same name is the most hilariously ironic thing in the universe. Click through only if you dare. NSFW.)

Basquiat

A few weeks ago, I watched Basquiat for the first time.


I know that I'm, what, thirteen years behind on this one. But, well. It kind of started when I moved to New York in 2006. There were ads in the subway about a Basquiat exhibit that was only around for about 4 more days. I was very taken by the imagery, and later read rave reviews all over the Internet and in local magazines.

Over the next two years, I periodically found myself thinking about him here and there, making notes to myself to find out more. I read some stuff, talked to some people, and here is something I still don't get: why I never learned about him before. I took Art History AP in high school, which covered everything from the Venus of Willendorf all the way to Christo, Duane Hansen and Chuck Close. Basquiat never appeared in my eight-pound book. I was one or two classes away from an Art History minor in college, and more of the same. No Basquiat.



It's really, really strange to me. He had the type of story, acquaintances, friends, problems, fame, and death that I can't imagine ever being left out of a 1200-page history book. Better late than never, though. I hadn't been that inspired and excited about art in a movie since I saw How to Draw a Bunny.


I kind of loved all of the cameos, too. There were so many. Benicio del Toro, Willem Dafoe, Christopher Walken (who was so wonderfully awkward), Dennis Hopper, Gary Oldman, Courtney Love, I even saw Vincent Gallo for a split second at a dinner table. And who could forget this one:


I don't really know what else to say about this that will explain why I keep thinking about it (both him and the movie). Something about the way he absentmindedly poured syrup all over a tabletop just so he could sketch into it; the way he painted all over his girlfriend's dress while she was sleeping; the way he slapped white on stacks of tires. It's the kind of thing that could sound eye-roll-ish and make people balk at what the big deal is. I'm not sure either; maybe it's because I've had similar compulsions.

It's frustrating to not be able to articulate why I love the story so much. It's also frustrating to not understand why it's not more widely told, since it seems so huge now that I know a little bit about it. Is it like street smarts, which you only learn by living in the world and participating in culture first-hand, and getting away from a text book?


In any case, I know I'm light years behind on this artist, but Jean Michel Basquiat has been simultaneously my biggest oversight and my favorite discovery of the year.