Oh My God! It's Oregon!

So! Yesterday I had to leave lovely lalaland and return to scenic Oregon (the bright spots in that picture are reflections of the interior lights.) Though I didn't get my much needed sun bathe while I was down south, I'd forgotten just how different rain is here, and even more specifically Eugene. There's a freshness to dryland rains- a kind of bright coldness. Here it's more of a moldy glisten. Anyway, I won't wax too long on the weather, even though it's all I think about.

I had my first mentor meeting with the lovely Lesli Larson. She made me coffee (notice the herringbone hourglass holder) and introduced me to her dog Chaz. And, no, those aren't all the bags she owns, though I love their archive system.

It was amazingly satisfying to talk to some one who is around garments all the time. She began to talk about my bikinis as documentable artifacts before I'd even gotten to that part of the explanation. And, golly gee, she's also a photographer who is more than willing to help me with the newly aquired photographic conundrums. So, presumably in March we will get together and shootshootshoot!

Because of that I will be solely focusing on creating the remaining 4 or 5 suits, as well as papers, for the next month. All photo related troubleshooting is to be put aside until further notice.

She's already supplied me with a great list of books I will have no time to read, and reaffirmed that I need to watch "The Wire" as well as several other series' and movies. Already looking forward to our meeting in February.

Non- Art day, L.A.

I really don't like doing the residency summaries. I just never know if I've written enough. I converted my scramble-scribble notes into some sort of coherent form, and I guess that's all I need to do? Now I just need to come up with 3 research topics...

While my procrastination juices were flowing (a useful visual metaphor I'm stealing from my friend here), I decided that much more important than writing up my notes was to fix and clean Daniel's 50's era stove. It had some broken handles (which still aren't attached in the picture as their J.B. weld is curing). So I trundled off to the hardware store and even lolly-gagged looking into plant foods for his hibiscus, picked out a couple of kinds of caulking... And eventually made it back to the house to start the scrub fest. I think I spent about 2 hours on the stove and maybe an hour and a half re-caulking part of his bath tub and the joists in his 1914-era ceiling. And things are gratifyingly better. Why can't this be art?

Well, maybe it can be, if I could just use my camera a little better and more consistently (so good about the after shots, so bad about the befores). After all, J.Morgan Puett gets written up in Food and Wine magazine for her installation fridge ideas...

Anyway, paper is done to the point of just needing page numbers. Pimm's cup is still not mastered as a cocktail choice. Looking forward to sushi, caulk under my fingernails.

Eames Day (waste 15 minutes with me!)

I'm absolutely amazed by how many good friends of mine have not seen the Powers of Ten short by Charles and Ray Eames. I was lucky enough to get to see it projected from those wonderful reel to reel projectors that they used to have in high schools in a very early morning physics class when I was about 16. The cinematography was wonderfully clear, and it makes me a little sad to watch it on You Tube, where it looks all pixellated and the stars are all fuzzed out. Before I ever connected the chairs to the film I was completely in love. I took the strip gently out of the reels to look at it frame by frame, and you could see hairs and finger prints on the print, which made the strip itself this fantastically real thing. You tube is a miraculous tool, but give that old fashioned flammable technology with a flickering bulb any day.

Yesterday I got to visit Case House #8, on a gloriously windy California day, right after a rain storm. I got Eames mud all over my shoes. You can see the house (and the lot)featured in the 2nd film, made by their grandson to celebrate their centennial. & I'm happy to say yesterday was a parade of elephants.

The house itself is half empty at present. All the living room furnishings have been temporarily moved to a life-sized reproduction at the LACMA, which I also got to visit yesterday. I love modern furniture, and find it welcoming and gentle. The Eames house, however, seemed boxy and at odds with it's environment. As much as I could enjoy it for it's utilitarian construction (up in 5 days, after all) and can imagine the wonders of its views (especially of the ocean before the trees all grew up), it didn't seem as organically welcoming as their furniture or as intellectually inspiring as their short films. The house seemed almost fortress-like. And I was sorry that the kitchen was so small. Interestingly there was a "pass through" from the kitchen to the communal area that was eliminated in the LACMA reproduction that made it seem even more disfunctional. Don't get me wrong- the house was funky and original, and certainly a playful structure. But I felt strangely as if they were building a box when they would have done much better to have built a parabola.

I'm thinking of writing one of my papers on hosting, and the Eames in particular were great hosts. I'm also going to look into Gertrude Stein and her brother. Maybe I can work MFK Fischer in there as well...

Anyway, it's late now, and all I can really think of is crawling into bed. I have seen, on average, 1.5 museum or gallery shows the last 10 days. When I sleep my head is spinning, and new neurons are getting made so fast that I wake up ravenous. I often forget just how hard it is to look at things.

Hard Edge (bringing sexy back?)

Today was Getty/Hammer day here in smoggy/sunny (&sorta cold) Los Angeles. I ventured forth and paid for parking to go see the first of many "PST- Pacific Standard Time" shows. In particular "Crosscurrents in L.A. painting and sculpture, 1950-1970." And after the MET, the ICA, the MFA and the MOMA, this was the first show I was honestly gobsmacked at. I've always had the love for L.A. and the west coast art scene, but suddenly, after 4 collections of the great and the well-known/loved art anchors, I got to see 1 show of virtually unknown and completely lust-worthy art objects. These were the kind of art objects that remind a weary artist why they want to make things with a capital "T". I wanted to lick the glass pieces that were elegantly suspended, or set on the ground so precariously. Things were fragile, things were crafted. Sure, there were baby heads and house shapes and big, ugly ceramic eyesores (what mid-century California-based show could claim its cred without something huge and ugly, made out of clay?), but for everything predictable there was something gracefully sublime. I even appreciated Judy Chicago's car hood. When Diebenkorn's look sloppy by comparison to everything else in a room, I suddenly feel at home. The only thing that would've made me happier was if they had included some printmakers and a Wayne Thiebaud or 3.

But by far my favorite was this incredible Helen Lundeberg, which no reproduction could ever do justice. The quality of the exceptionally flat, perfectly mixed and muted acrylic made it feel as luminous as glass, and yet there was positively no reflective quality to the paint whatsoever. It had all the magic of a glass marble,all the grace of the ocean. According to Wikipedia, Hard Edge painting, a style original to California in the 50's (which I had never heard of) was a direct correspondent to the flingy AbEx crap happening on the east coast. Several other painters of this genre were also featured in the room, but this image (is it an island? A cave?)took my breath right away. I could have been with it for hours. Each time I got close to it (and I came back to it, over and over) there was a new layer of color that I hadn't discerned before, and completely lost myself in. So incredibly sexy.
I set the postcard in amoungst the mineolas and tree-ripened grapefruits on my friend's counter in his sea blue kitchen, and loved it all the more for it being a memory, now, of this beautiful house, set back in a beautiful hill. So content. Smelling citrus, listening to Willie Nelsen.

Relational Aesthetics, what the what?

Does anyone explain it better?










So, in the last couple days, as I've been mulling over "when is performance not a performance?" I've been forced to admit that I really don't understand relational aesthetics and my place in them, not to mention how to differentiate them for just the regular wonderfully surreal life that I lead. I mean, I had Alexandro trying to scientificfy my process and got to watch impromptu hiphop art-jamming. Was that where the art was?

So, in an attempt to get a better grasp on such things I am restarting an old Portland tradition- Tuna Tuesday! Actually, I had already planned to host this dinner party long before the residency- the residency just reminded me that it had the potential to be art. So, here are some stills (my movie camera will be used in the future installments)for the 1st of the Traveling Tuna Tuesdays. Last night's took place at 200 8th Ave in absolutely lovely Brooklyn. Not sure if it's art, but heaven's it's tasty.

MOMA Dust Bunnies, Subway Stalagtites, Well-Hung Deer.

Happy After Residency!


After leaving Boston with the WONDERFUL MISS RITA, I've arrived in New York City. Well, I guess Brooklyn to be precise. I'm crashing on the couch of some wonderful wine associated geographers, who took me to a local waterhole where I came across the resplendent represenative of the Cervidae variety. Certainly was a lot more festive than the Beuys Bunny attached to sticks at the MOMA which I had the pleasure of examining the next day.

What a tremendously crowded place! Hot and hard to concentrate in! Maybe I have a case of the overstimulies, but I actually enjoyed the Fluxus room the most,generally because no one was crowding me. Also, those guys just crack me up. I don't know how they ever got anywhere, but Ben Vaultier now has pencil cases in the gift shop and his own wine, so he must be doing all right.

I have to say, I liked the MFA's modern and "contemporary" rooms much more, maybe because they weren't so full of people. However, I have to agree with Liz Deschenes- seeing just one example of, for example, a Raushembourg when you've had the pleasure of seeing whole rooms of them really seems a lonely experience. Personally, I always have this feeling about Donald Judd's work. Curators always seem to have them off in corners looking ominous and imposing, like the uncle no one wants to talk to at a thanksgiving party. (The MFA's Judd piece certainly kicks the MOMA's ass, having just seen them a few days apart. Actually, the MFA's Judd might be my favorite in a mixed bag setting). Seeing Doris Salcedo's shoes in the wall in 2 different locations really changes the meanings of the work, however. Suddenly they became like a commodity everyone could collect instead of the precious portraits they are (I believe) intended to be. And the museums aren't just content with 1 pair, they needs must have at least 4 to get the point across... Anyway!

One thing that was truly amazing to me was the prevalence of sizable dust bunnies. I don't know if the installation of the DeKooning show upstairs had just set the little guys free, but they were EVERYWHERE. Especially on the dias' that kept the sculptures aloft from the masses. You'd think they never dusted in there!

I was sad to see that the Wyeth was hanging, hidden, by the elevator. I must not have seen every floor, because I never caught sight of a Warhol. I couldn't get near Demoiselles. And so I was glad to get back in the subway, admire the strange mineral deposits and head back to Brooklyn, pizza and good friends.

Speaking of whom- my hosts are remarkably intelligent people, have MOMA memberships and cultural awareness, and yet, over dinner Kate asked me "What exactly IS performance art?" Ah, that is a blog post for another time...

I heart my go pro!

The first video, if all this works, was taken last weekend in my driveway. The 2nd was made by my friend Lesli Larson (http://www.archivalclothing.com/) who I hope will be my mentor next semester. This was back in December 2006, when the ball was only about a mile long.

So, I bought a Go Pro Surf Hero back in October, and I'm finally getting the hang of how to use it, now that I've bought a chest mount, supplemental cards, backs, and cases. You'd think a camera designed to be used on a surf board wouldn't be too finicky, but you'd be wrong. Anyway, the purpose of getting the camera, besides for the obvious reason that it could be fun, was to document the attempt to break the worlds record for fingerknitting. Which I did not break, but the footage is fun anyway. I uploaded a short out-take here, but I should have something looped in time for the residency.

I made 2 attempts at measuring, and documenting measuring, the new, big ball. The first was on a dirt road and was aided by Matt Causey, and used 3 different cameras. The 2nd, more accurate was shot exclusively by me and used just my Canon and the Go Pro, and was taken at the local softball championship field park. And, after 2 attempts I am now sure I 'm about a kilometer short of breaking the record. I can fingerknit about 5 meters an hour, so... about 200 hours of fingerknitting to go! Residency should be great for this! Hopefully these videos will help me with my goal of applying for a Kickstarter project granty type thing.

Every time I have to re-roll the ball, since all together it can't fit through doors, I roll it into about 5 pound balls that then have to be re-knotted into the big ball for measuring purposes. They are currently residing in the back of my pick-up since I have nowhere for them to go! The ball, when rolled up, is too heavy and awkward to load into the truck by myself. Rolling it out takes upwards of 3 hours, and rolling it back up takes even longer. I used to have a kid that I babysat who loved to unroll the ball all over the house.

Unfortunately this does mean I won't have the record by Christmas. As usual, everything takes twice as long and costs twice as much as what I anticipated...