Mother and Child.

When I was at the Warhol Museum last Saturday I kept returning to the large room with The Last Supper painting in it. The curators turned out a "mother and child" theme on one wall that included drawings, watercolors, and photographs. I found these two especially touching. The way the child looks out at the viewer is such a great Renaissance trick. All these not-Renaissance years later it still works. It's so very "I'm on it, motherfuckers!" It also invites the viewer into the work in such an intimate way. That rules.


This room in the museum happens to illustrate one of my favorite things about the Warhol. The collection is so deep that it's practically a different museum every 2-3 weeks. Other than a few standbys that stay in the same spot for months or years at a time (Specifically in this room, The Last Supper and one of the larger piss paintings), everything else is constantly in flux. Always moving.

Also . . .



Two words. One airline. Jet Blue.

Bundles.

Andy Saves.

Yeah, I've been busy for the last month but let's face it: I've also been a little uninspired. Inspiration returned though with my annual visit to The Warhol in Pittsburgh. I love that place so much I could cry. Oh, my God. I totally just did.

At any rate, this was an especially good visit and I'll occasionally be bothering you with it in the next few weeks. This little light of mine . . .

Maria Bartiromo Holiday.

The holidays and a cold have slowed me down a bit in regards to the posting this month. Love me anyway. It's Chistmastime! Not to worry. Things'll be ramping back up after New Years. If my cold cooperates I'll be bringing back some goodies from my annual pilgrimage to The Land of Andy, The Iron City, The Home of Primanti Bros. In the meantime enjoy the special Christmas edition of Unbreak My Heart. Happy Holidays!!!

Artis.

Mika Rottenberg, 5 Second Party, 2006

A relatively new arts organization came across my radar recently: Artis. They support contemporary art in Israel and the Israeli artists who make it, wherever they are. The other night I went to a presentation of the work of Israeli artists who are attending or have graduated from Columbia. I was surprised at how much of the work I was familiar with. Just the other week I had come across Mika Rottenberg's 5 Second Party (above) in the back room at Stonefox in the collection of one of the gallerists. And of course, the mighty Tamy Ben-Tor (below). I'm pretty sure that everybody and their mother likes her work. Others whose work I've seen here and there were Guy Ben-Ner, Yoav Horesh, and Daniel Bauer. Check them out, both the artists and the org.


Tamy Ben-Tor, still from The Hitler Sisters, 2005

Both Sides Now.

I've bought thousands of used CDs over the years. I never know what I'm going to find when I go into a place like Academy on West 18th. I might walk out with one disc by Nurse With Wound and another by Robyn Hitchcock. The other day though, I nabbed the mother of all juxtaposed purchases. I was quite proud of myself. Obviously.

Greenville.

Y'all know I'm a huge fan of the painting of Jenny Dubnau, so I was more than a little thrilled to learn that she has a show up in one of my favorite Southern cities, Greenville, South Carolina. The exhibit is up through the end of January at the Greenville Museum. I've always thought that the city--home to Furman University, the mighty SC Governor's School for the Arts, and my Aunt Sally--had good taste. Now I'm sure of it.

Love. Death. Radio.

If you thought Hospital mainman Dominick Fernow was hardcore, wait until you meet his mom, Jean Feraca. Tonight at Borders in Midtown the poet/writer/npr radio host will be reading from her new memoir. Heavy rain returns, indeed.

Frisk.

The other day I came across one of the best lines I've read this year. From Dennis Cooper's Frisk:

"His history had been reduced to a simplistic blur, like the trails in the air left by people on fire."

Seriously. On the count of 3, everybody just put down their pens and go home.

As a sidenote, I've also been re-reading Cooper's amazing collection of essays, All Ears. It's worth the price of admission for his profile of UCLA's Fine Arts program in 1997.

Don't Call Me.

Not between 10 and 10:30, at least. I'll be watching the center of the moral universe, Lauren Conrad (left), crush all the dishonest hellheads of the world. Audrina (right) will undoubtedly begin to date another dopey fool, even though she deserves somebody nicer. Heidi will die. Clueless as a goldfish, she will choke to death on her own breath. Spencer, freed from his never-really-meant-it-in-the-first-place commitment, will begin his political career, and in 20 years will be running for president in a close race. A small percentage of the country will vote for Mark Green to "shake things up" and "send a message". You know the rest.

It starts tonight.

PS: Here it is . . . THE moment of the season. I love how this transfer gives the clip the visual texture of a soap opera from the 70's.

PPS: OMG. They're even letting Elodie walk the red carpet. This is the best pre-finale show EVER.

Off The Grid.

Don't even hesitate . . . like I did, when I first walked into the Zach Feur Gallery last Saturday. Tom McGrath's new show is a stunner, but I wasn't even close to being ready for it because I hadn't seen any of the transitional paintings between this show and his last one in 2005. The style shifts and his palette explodes with this series of paintings. This one reminded me of Howard Hodgkin. Not an easy thing to do. Not an easy thing to do at all, from any angle. Off the grid, baby.

Best Email Solicitation of the Day.

hello
my name is eddie alfaro
i would like to show you my artwork
maybe you can help me get it seen
i make it with sharpie markers, i am color blind
thank you
eddie

This Is Why.

This letter-to-the-editor was written to the Times-Picayune regarding Paul Chan's Waiting for Godot in New Orleans. During this frenzied moment that is Art Basel Miasma, I thought I'd post this reminder of what art also is. Not how much it costs, or how well it sells, or how goddamn good you look in front of it, but what it can mean.* Just a little breather. That's all.


*I know it doesn't sound like it, but this is not a slam against art fairs. I LOVE the damn things for my own selfish reasons. Any place where I can see boatloads of art is fine by me. Everything else is everybody else's problem.

"Laugh now, but one day we'll be in charge."

Maria and Banksy . . . An utterly appropriate duet. I came across this magical juxtaposition on the Upper West Side last night. Thank GOD I was on my way to therapy. I had a lot to work out after seeing this.

Time In A Bottle.

Another buncha new posts over on my Creative Time blog, including the story behind this bottle of A Psychic Vacuum that I found on my desk at work last week.

Play.

My review of the deliciously overwhelming Ensemble, a show of sound art curated by Christian Marclay at the ICA in Philadelphia, is up now at ArtCal's Zine. It's a thriller.

The photo above is a close-up of Angela White's three turntables and michael jackson. I love this artist's work. Well-plotted structures lead to random acts of visual and aural beauty. This is the stuff, kids. Spin.

I'll post an installation shot of the work tonight when I get home, so check back if you're interested. Trust me. You should be interested. (Bonus: Here's a link to her work at Greg Kucera Gallery in Seattle.)

On The Waterfront.

My visit to Steve Flanagan's studio might have been colored by whiskey- and cold medicine, but I was clear-eyed by the time I wrote about it back in June. He has a couple gems in this group show in SoHo that opens tonight.

All Apologies.

Sorry about the lax posting lately. Still recovering from Thanksgiving, I think. I'm on my way back though with a couple things in the pipeline here, at my Creative Time blog, and at ArtCal's The Zine. I saw a bunch of goodnesses in Chelsea this Saturday. Not least of which was Tom McGrath's stunning new show at Zach Feur. For real.