Tag Archives: gallery

Under a certain set of circumstances…

Let’s just say that you’ve arrived as planned at your internship and have met with your supervisor only to find out that the whole office has been unpluged and relocated. Under this particular set of circumstances you can’t say that you’re very surprised. This gallery is a mess and the communication is bad. So while you’re disappointed when you’re supervisor says she’s going back to work from home and you can go back home if you like – you’re especially disappointed because you called to say you were running late when leaving the house and she didn’t tell you stay home then and now you’ve spent 1 hour of time and $2 on the metro getting there.

Now, lets add to this visualization by saying that you were running late because you stopped to get an umbrella at CVS because you woke up and checked the weather. The weather said that it would rain by 3 pm, having discovered the last time it rained as you were about to go to a formal party that your umbrella was busted, you decided you’d get an umbrella before it rained. This is what bright people due. You think candidly and fondly of your sister whose life goal at one point was to sell umbrellas at Renaissance faires to people who didn’t check the weather. Did I mention, sell them at exurbanite prices?

Now as you’re leaving this box of an internship, it begins to rain. Its 11 am and the online weather system was wrong.  You don’t want to stay and do manual labor, so you leave. You’re soaking wet already when it starts to pour cats and dogs or since you were in china town, smelly wet liquid that can’t be called actual rain. You have to stop so you go get hot chocolate. Lucky you! Not only did you pick the place where hot chocolate is $4 a glass but you forgot the book you were going to read back at the gallery. And while you have homework to read the waitresses are so loud talking about their relatives dying in hospitals that you couldn’t read anyway. So she makes some phone calls but no answer. She’s undecided, she’s defeated and so you can understand when she thinks to herself:

What is a girl to do?

This girl goes back to the gallery where she had passively flirted with a decent looking tech boy and gets her book. She proceeds to walk past all of those people taking shelter in the rain or standing in the middle of the intersection trying to get a taxi. She is grateful that she wore shoes today rather than the flip flops that fell off in the middle of the road last time it rained. So she makes her way to the NYU library – where her phone rings and she talks in sentences incomprehensible to the human mind – hers included – but her friend doesn’t mind.

In a last attempt to slaughter the next three hours of her day in some means of free entertainment, she makes a visit to the NYU film collection – a collection of excellent films foreign and non which are fated to remain in the library until they deteriorate. Some probably already have. So for the next two hours she dries her socks on top of a tv which doesn’t get warm enough to dry them and props her feet up in a rather unbecoming way, getting comfortable to make the best of her circumstances.

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nyc (h)arts shit.

okay so that title line is suppose to be read as “nyc hearts shit” but this is as close as I could get it. I’ll explain the shit part later. Promise.

Today and yesterday have been fun filled art days. And thats a sign that I’m finally getting into the grove of things. Yesterday I was offered an internship at White Box. Which is itself a rather out of the box gallery. For instance, they’re preparing for a show by an Iraqi photographer for which they are converting the gallery into a travel agency. They will show his photographs and sell plane tickets to Baghdad. I am tempted to buy one. Taking the internship means turning down the internship with the artist studio and I hate writing those letters but I wrote one and I’ll see the reply tomorrow. I can’t feel too bad though. I have to do whats best for me.

Speaking of which… I admit rather openly that the best way for me to find out where I am is to go get lost and see some artwork. I’ve done both now.

Yesterday I made the small step of detouring my route home and stopping by a gallery opening on the lower east side. Don’t worry, if your not sure what lower east side is suppose to indicate, I don’t either really. It was a pretty lame show. Most of the artwork was a foam rubber substance hot glued together to make sculptures of rather ridiculous things. While I appreciate the ridiculous more than many people, this just didn’t have the funny edge it takes to be successful.

Today, I made a larger step. Again using http://www.artcal.net which I think was the best Internet find ever… and I do mean ever… I’ve been able to find out what’s opening each night of the week through this website. My initial plan in this was to find an alternative to paying for dinner. I had hoped and expected really that there would be munchies and alcohol at gallery openings and that that would eliminate the necessity of me purchasing dinner between Wednesdays and Saturdays. This was a mistake. An over-estimation if you will. No gallery is going to feed the amount of people who show up at their openings!

Picture this if you will. if you can. I really couldn’t believe it. Armory square, 2-3 am, bar crowd scene. The streets are packed they’ve closed them off. People are rowdy and crowd density is sky rocketing. Now picture that on each block of a 10 block long strip. Okay, so this sounds like Vegas or NYC or Miami. But can you imagine that those 10 blocks of crazy amounts of people are all coming out for the art? I write that in a hopeful tone.  Because I believe most of the people were there for the alcohol or the socializing, but not for the art. It was so crowded that the art was hard to see. That may have been a good thing because I didn’t like a lot of the artwork that I saw. This was slightly disappointing.

(The Ohio senator who is supporting the republican party’s convention is asking the crowd to join him in prayer. I am moaning. Separation of Church and state people. Separation….)

The best show that I saw – and I described this to my brother – was an exhibition of large 5×5′ photos, beautifully and simply framed and spaced, with brightly colored sunset-esqe backgrounds with fashion photo styled close up pictures of shit. Yes. Shit. The advertisements were just as good. Bumper stickers slapped on defaced buildings of the street reading “Shit is coming.” Yes it is. Here’s the link because I have to share, even if no one reads this but me: http://www.yvon-lambert.com/index_ny.php

The other gallery which I found enjoyable was also related to shit, oddly. I am not on a shit kick, I promise and this is no where near like my obsession with transvestite films. This is just the way it is at the moment. The link to the other gallery is here: http://www.zachfeuer.com/ Their show “Tickle the Shitstem” was just excellent if not unexplainable. But I’ll try. A large wooden boat like structure. With seating on the edge and covered with aquariums containing glow in the dark plant substances. Not shit. Not glow in the dark shit. No way. Other plant material. And then there were golf balls and they were selling pencils saying “This is not a Pencil” and while I found that funny, I also though it was such a rip-off.

So that’s the scoop on the art scene of NYC. I hope that in the future this blog becomes more of a art review base rather than a art related journal. However, I’m simply not accustomed to the scale of people – and I don’t mean in height, thank you – that visit these gallery openings. Its simply astounding to me. It has also ruined my dream of becoming what Swatt-Swatt would call a gallery whore. I had hoped to go around galleries, look at the artwork, and meet someone because they would be doing the same thing. I doubt that anyone would a. notice me looking at artwork and b. actually be looking at artwork too. Oh well. New fantasy necessary. Tune in next time for the newest art scene revelation and an update on my disillusionment of men, art and nyc.