Not sure why... just my mood, maybe. Maybe also because I know there's a lot to write about and I don't want to present you, my reader, with a book.
Apologies for the slightly hysterical tone of the last post.
I was feeling upset.
Ironically, that post got a lot of response, more than usual.
So, on one hand I’m inclined to apologize for it because it’s unseemly and uncouth to show that sort of emotion. On the other hand perhaps it is good to admit that I’m human, and certain readers seemed to respond sympathetically to that admission.
In any case, it’s all looking like it's probably a healthy turn of events, a cloud with a silver lining.
In a rather inspiring conversation with my pal Michael Lujan...
we talked about the benefits of lightening up and working more freely.
A point made by certain responders to my last post was that I did not need to look at it as a permanent break from building the big stuff, just a stepping back. And not only do I think that this is an appropriate response to the situation, I think it might be just exactly what is needed. You see, when you are in that sort of rut, you become alienated from the self-motivated, autonomous mode of art production which is really special, really at the core of art-making, which we know because it is basically the only mode of art-making at the beginning of most artist’s careers. Making things because you want to. Because you believe in the idea. Because YOU believe in the idea. And… making things faster, on a lighter footing. Letting ideas fall out of you and evolve faster. This is one of the reasons I am attracted to the idea of painting. Not only would I like to become a good painter, ideally I’d like to become a good and fast painter. So that I could get the ideas out, and make room for new ones.
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I just got back from a week in NYC.
The week started with an opening of my old friend Rachel Feinstein at the Jewish Museum...
And ended with the baptism of my brother's son, Beowulf. (I am now a godfather!)
Between those bookends, there were *museums*, *galleries*, *book- and magazine stores*, and *thrift shopping*. I spent hours and hours looking at books and trying on clothes, but ended up buying nothing. Still, that's a lot of 'visual input,' of the kind that I love and I can't get in Taos.
*Museums*
I visited the MoMA and the Frick. I've never been a huge fan of the MoMA because I think that abstract and conceptual art is a bit of a scam (more on that later). There were a few things I liked, however, including this painting...
by Faith Ringgold, and this bizarre piece...
by Hans Bellmer. But then, everything Hans Bellmer did was pretty bizarre.
The Frick was small by comparison, but full of impressive work. My favorite pieces were...
... this beautiful portrait of Julia, Lady Peel by Sir Thomas Lawrence, and...
...this amazing portrait of the Comtesse d'Haussonville by one of my favorites, Ingres.
*Galleries*
I wasn't truly blown away by very much that I saw in the galleries, but...
Rebecca Morgan's show 'Town and Country' (detail above) was quite funny, and...
the work of Kinki Texas was also funny and good.
I saw this painting....
in a gallery which is dedicated to photo-realistic painting and observed that, even in these virtuoso canvases, if you get close enough...
... at some point the detail breaks down just a little bit. Still, it's pretty amazing.
But... photorealism. What is the point of it, really? We have cameras now, and large-format printing. I personally feel that painting should push reality... just a little... in some way. I'll probably expound on this idea later, at some point.
*Book and Magazine Stores*
I spent a hell of a lot of time at The Strand, trying to discover new art and artists that I like. My favorites were...
Ridley Howard, and...
Matthew Cerletti.
These are publications with names like Ligature, Faune, Black, and Hunger, all priced between $20 and $40. I find these publications fascinating; they are as thick as books and combine fashion with art with celebrity with nudity.
The bizarre and often questionable content of these magazines suggests an industry that is running out of ideas and debasing itself, just to find something 'new.'
*Thrift Stores*
As I said, I went into a bunch of thrift stores but didn't buy anything. I did, however, fall madly and deeply in love with this jacket...
... and tried to convince myself to buy it, but at the end of the day it was too expensive and also the large amount of fur presented me with a mild moral conundrum. I may at some point make a replica, with either fake fur or vintage fur.
I did a hell of a lot of walking in New York, and... New York is spectacular. Long walks reward with unexpected delights, such as...
beautiful urban vistas, and...
fashion shoots.
Something I noticed that I thought was funny... big cities these days are full of people talking into little barely visible microphones attached to their phones, so a lot of times it just looks like people talking to themselves. But then, you've also got genuinely crazy people who really are talking to themselves. And then there are those that you can't quite figure out... they look a little crazy... but maybe they're just on a phone call? Do the really crazy ones get annoyed that they no longer have the monopoly on talking to themselves in public? Or are they confused by it?
I found myself having a conversation all week about abstract and conceptual art, both with myself and with others. My theory is this: the progression of art is like a long conversation taking place among artists, museum curators, gallerists, and art critics in which new and different ideas constantly float in and out. The general public isn't a meaningful participant in this conversation. Sometimes ideas will be introduced whose only real virtue is that they are new and different. These new ideas then give rise to even more ideas and so on and so on, but before you know it the art that's being made out of these ideas has become so esoteric and self-referential that it only makes sense to those people involved in the conversation; it becomes meaningless to anyone other than the cognoscenti who birthed it. This, in a nutshell, is how I feel about abstract and conceptual art. Similar to those fashion magazines above, it's the product of an in-crowd which has run out of ideas and is trying anything as long as it's new. It's hard not to see it also as a kind of in-joke among the in-crowd, a kind of trick they are playing on everyone. If enough of them say that "It's Amazing!" the rest of us are supposed to believe it too. If we don't 'get it,' we're allegedly just not cool enough.
This is in an extremely high-end gallery, the top of the top. The pretentiousness is staggering, in my opinion, and the work... meaningless.
And this is in the MoMA. Are you moved by this piece? These people apparently are (or maybe they're just dumbfounded, like me.)
If you've been reading this blog, you know I'm trying to paint. If you've really been paying attention you know that I've been talking about it more than I've been actually doing it. I have mental blocks. I think I have some good old-fashioned fear of failure. I've established that I can basically paint, but now I'm vaguely paralyzed about choosing my subject matter. I don't want to waste my time painting 'exercises.' Life is short. I want to choose wisely; I want to use my time wisely. To make matters worse, you can't just paint whatever you find on the internet, even though it's full of great subject matter. Most of it is copyrighted.
But... today I settled on an image and started a painting. Thank the Lord Baby Jesus.
OK, everybody... back to work.
