Push.

I posted this photo back in May more as a joke and less as an "omen" about the market, but sometimes forecasting accidents will happen. To be honest, I don't think it's going to be as bad as some are predicting, I think it's the high end of the market that'll get hit which will make it an issue for the really rich so I don't care so much. Oooooh . . . John Currin's great-grandchildren might have to get a job. Whoop-dee-doo. I don't usually write about stuff like this here, and now I remember why: I'm at the end of the first paragraph and I'm already bored out of my bloody mind. Plus, I don't know what I'm talking about.

Fuck it. Thursday night is on its way. Go forth. Drink beer. See art. Get your hands dirty. Push.

How's Your House?

Kyle Bravo

Second Line, the group show at Ad Hoc Art in Bushwick, is a reponse to the second anniversary of Katrina. Yeah, I know. Second. It seems like just yesterday when Hell visited the Delta. It probably seems like that because it's still the fuck in residence. They might have badly rebuilt the levees, but the Stygian flow keeps on rolling.


Gerald Cannon

Jump on the L, and you won't be disappointed. Highlights . . . Kyle Bravo's houses in the wind carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. Will they ever land? Brilliant and horrible. Gerald Cannon's gentle drawings mine the twin veins of strength and vulnerability. Dodgy name and all, Sean Star Wars takes the glove off and appropriately throws a few blows below the belt. Last but not least, Deborah Fisher understands that decay can be just another word for growth. Her corrosive (literally) Garden District Meets The Mississippi moves forward, slowly, with an unstable future. Sound familiar?


Deborah Fisher


Sean Star Wars


Raina Benoit


Jenny LeBlanc


Annie Yalon

Mr. Kennedy.

Photo: Fred R. Conrad/The New York Times

I was happy to see Mike and Doug Starn on the front page of the Times online edition today. Randy Kennedy paid their studio a visit. Don't miss the slideshow either. Here's some pics from Creative Time's studio visit with the Starns the other month.

If you've been visiting Heart As Arena for any length of time you know that I've a real affection for their work. I think that people mistakenly try to dismiss them almost as payback for being hot in the late 80's. It's about the work, and the work kicks ass. The Starn brothers constantly find new ways to address impermenance. Plus it's jaw-droppingly beautiful. Smart and beautiful. (Hey! It's like the Geena Davis of the art world.) What's not to like?

I came to their work late (Par for the course.) through knowing Mike's wife. Luckily, I came to it just in time for their show of old and new work at Castelli a couple years ago. Now there's some irony. Their work: it's always new. Something might have been taken away from the object by decay, but that only means that something has been added to the art. It's always becoming more complete as it fades forward. Oh, I like that.

And this, and this from their excellent show at Wood Street in Pittsburgh last summer.

Tubeway Army.

God Sends The Meat, And The Devil Cooks.

In the land of mythology and fairy tales there's always somebody getting recruited to Hell to help tend the fire. When their tenure is over the Devil sends them back to the world with their reward, a big bundle of the straw they'd been using to stoke the flames. They always feel cheated until they reach home and the bundle turns into gold. Unfortunately, that's not always the way it works. In Nina Berman's devastating show at Jen Bekman, the recruits have been sent home with the straw, but it's still aflame. As far as the gold goes, they're on their own.

Split.

Last night I went to an off-the-map metal show and a boy band broke out. No shit. Noosebomb and Unearthly Trance, meet Diddy. For real. I don't know how to categorize Noosebomb, but if Geezer Butler and Lemmy had a baby this is what it would sound like after missing a couple dozen feedings. Unearthly Trance, as I've mentioned here before, is one of the most killer bands on the planet right now. As tight and as loose and open as Crimson circa '73-'74. Seriously mighty. And in an intimate rehearsal studio with punch-drunk sound? Glorious.


So, rehearsal studio . . . Diddy . . . the boys in the hall. When I went outside for a breather it was hard not to notice the entourage. Walking back the hall I heard some of that heinous Justin wannabe singing going on. Turns out that Diddy was in one of the other studios for a taping of Making the Bland. Sorry, but shit doesn't get any weirder than this. I love this town.

And Lovingly So.

I mentioned Drawn and Quartered, at Like The Spice a little while ago, but never commented on the show. (That's been going on a lot lately here. Sorry. Mountains of freelance.) There's some really wonderful work in this show. Some of it, amazing even.

Kathleen Vance


Tadashi Moriyama's work more than lived up to my expectations. Such lovely details. It reminded me of the feel of the model cityscapes used in Shortbus. The artist that really knocked it out of the park and into the water for me though was Kathleen Vance. Well, HELLO THERE. Her drawings have a great sense of space and line, and they kept drawing me back for a peek 5 or 6 times during the opening. I'm a sucker for work that exploits shadows. Especially when it does it as well as Allie Rex's Arrows (not pictured below). Nothing but Yum. Liz Brown? Totally! Shit yeah! There's quite the horde of artists in this show, and these are only a few of them. Seriously. Go.

Tadashi Moriyama


And a note to new collectors. Why get escorted around Chelsea like poor old Jay-Z by someone who's more a financial consultant than an art lover when you can go to shows like this one, find something you love, and buy it. Don't be a Dusty.

Liz Brown



Allie Rex


Abby Goodman


Amy Hill

Still Waiting.

Creative Time is going to present Paul Chan and The Classical Theatre of Harlem's Waiting For Godot in New Orleans on November 2, 3 (Lower 9th), and 9, 10 (Gentilly). Yep. I know. I thought the same fucking thing. Utterly, horrifically, and absurdly right. And people wonder why I listen to Death Metal and Doom to cheer myself up.

Rent.

One common way for artists to make money outside of the gallery is to work in publishing . . . design, production, even accounting. I thought it would be fun to list some of the ass-kicking artists I've worked with during my so-called career. I've got nothing but gratitude for all the excellent schoolin' they've provided over the years while we should have been working.

Michael Ashkin


Monica Bernier


Jennifer Bolande


Andrea Champlin


Jennifer Dubnau


Steve Flanagan


Fariba Hajamadi


Adam Hurwitz


Robert Schatz


Not a visual artist, but . . . Patricia Kennealy-Morrison. The lady is hardcore. Read the first three books in the Keltiad series. Thank me later.

Zoe, Bob, and Me.

Robert Schatz

My review of Robert Schatz's excellent show at The Phatory this winter is in the latest NYArts. You can read the unedited version here. Also in the same issue, you won't wanna miss Zoe Strauss writing about her work and process. We are now officially tree-killin' neighbors. Word.


Zoe Strauss

. . . Tells A Story, Don't It?

While everybody's been going appropriately apeshit over Marilyn Minter's Parkett ride and Tom Ford ad, here's something that slid under the radar . . . her Guest Designer turn at All-Story magazine. Hell, yeah! Excluding a small number of advertisements, all the images used are Minter's. That purity of focus makes the experience of paging through the images utterly engrossing. There are words there, but I didn't really notice them.

Burn It Fucking Down.

Why you wouldn't want this is beyond me. A Thousand Colors Blaze is a 6Xc60 set with six hours of destroyed destruction to celebrate the hundredth release from Gods of Tundra, the label run by Wolf Eyes' Mike Connelly. The pace of releases from this loose gaggle of lone wolves and spinning clusters can be dizzying to say the least. There's almost always quality involved but here the goods stand even a nasty cut above that. All involved here bring their A-game and then some. Failing Lights, Prurient, Burning Star Core, Birth Ritual, Sick Llama, Hatred, Spine Scavenger, Three Legged Race, Gate To Gate, Walter Carson, and Hair Police . . . a thousand colors blaze, indeed! How many words are there in the English language for "essential?" Trust me. Not enough.

Stay free, fuckers.


Word to the wise. Over the weekend Hospital had just a couple sets left. Buy or die.

Trojan Horse.

Last night Creative Time did a studio visit with Tom Otterness. This guy has it figured out.

Hicks and Baltic.

Blue Monday.

Tony Wilson, 1950-2007.

Shit I Read On The Plane.

There's an interesting article in the latest Art + Auction about APT, a kind of mutual fund for artists and their art. Nice to see someone thinking outside the box. Although, I don't know how happy it makes some of the people who own the boxes.

Unfortunately, in the same issue, I also came across the the tidbit that the crap writer, Richard Polsky, is going to unleash a follow-up crap book to his other crap book I Bought Andy Warhol. Oh, lucky us. IBAW was a perfect bad storm of self-importance and self-loathing channeled through really bad writing and bad taste. Definitely one of the top five worst books I've ever read. It easily replaced Amanda Filipacchi's Nude Men as the MOST ANNOYING book I'd ever come across. Ugh.


Ever since Modern Painters switched from their quarterly publishing schedule it's just felt, well, less special. I probably feel that way just because of the stock they've used since they went bimonthly. Seriously. The quality of the writing, the attitude, and ingenuity has remained the same. The July/August issue is a good example of that.

Karen Kilimnik's fake interview with Brigitte Bardot is as confusing, wonderful, and warm as Kilimnik's art is to me. If you didn't get a chance to see the artist's retrospective at the ICA in Philadelphia I am bummed for you.

Speaking of warm, the previously unpublished Sol LeWitt interview by Sara Kent is just one more record of the artist's generosity. Conducted in 1971, the interview is a total treat from beginning to end. A must-read.

Two reviews are instant classics. Richard Prince's review of, um, Richard Prince is hilarious and full of piss. He thinks his show at Neuberger Museum of Art SUCKS. First line: "This was a complete show of crap." Brilliant. Chicks On Speed kill it when they review Dian Hanson's Vanessa Del Rio: Fifty Years of Slightly Slutty Behavior. A porny review for a porn star. Totally unruly. Like, not ruly at all.

I just reviewed two magazines. It is soooooo summer.

Libby Libby Libby On The Label Label Label.

Brian LaRossa

When I was away I got an email from Libby at Artblog about a group show, Drawn and Quartered, at Like The Spice. It was a forward from one of the participants, Tadashi Moriyama. Seriously, kids. Libby (or Roberta for that matter) has ever done me wrong with any of her suggestions. And she's right, Moriyama's work looks pretty wondrous and stuff. Color me all kinds of curious.


screen grab by me, art by Tadashi Moriyama

Nosting Potice.

I'm taking a long weekend. In the meantime, go check out what Liz Rywelski is up to. It's always something, and it's always something good. And look! Now she has a myspace page. It's been too long.

This Is Why Events Unnerve Me.

Over on the Creative Time blog I've posted an appreciation of Jeremy Blake, the artist. My experience with his art was so wrapped up with Creative Time that I thought it appropriate. Blake was one of my faves, and the people at Creative Time were among the first to introduce me to his work.