Yesterday Jennifer and I went and looked at art down at the Bemis Building. I saw only a few things that I liked. On the third floor a woman had made painting-type things using paint and thread and yarn. Her composition was nice and they were pretty. She wins the cult of beauty prize. Then upstairs was Jennifer McNeely’s pretty sculptures. On a large platform were hundreds of little sculptures that looked like shriveled penises just packed in plastic tubes. It’s hard to explain, but they moved me and made a deep impression. She wins the prize for creativity. Besides that there were a few paintings that were nice and some photos that were pretty. Jennifer declared that pretty photographs of nature were dead. At the back of the third floor was a group show of crap that connected photos of teenagers playing guitar with stencils surrounded by mirrors. Nothing caught my eye and it was all one-liner art that just states it’s image and lets it sit there like poo that really should have been flushed two days ago, but instead is just sitting there because the pooper wanted to show everyone how long of a poo they can poo. As we were walking out the artists made a snide comment pointing out that we hadn’t stayed very long in their studio. I though about launching into a lecture on poo, but instead I shrugged and moved on to find better stuff that would be pretty, find a way inside my armor, or incite a meaningful inquisition. Luckily we went upstairs and saw Jennifer something’s art and I felt relieved to see that all art is not dead.
We went to the G. Gibson Gallery and saw the Randy Hayes show. I love the G. Gibson Gallery? Gail Gibson puts up good shows, there is a nice atmosphere and I like it there. Randy’s work is fantastic. He makes big compositions out of small compositions and then paints on them with transparent paints to make another composition. I want one. One of the ways that I measure art is I ask myself, “could I live with this for many years and still explore it?” With Randy’s work, the answer is yes. There are many layers of color and composition. One of the things Randy’s work made me think about was my vision. I reckon that I am really only focused on a spot that is about the same size as my thumbnail if I hold it out at arms length. I move this focus spot around to look at things. A good art piece has room for my eye to move around it and explore it. Randy’s work has multiple layers that I can focus and let my eye wander around on. Then I can switch to another layer and wander more.
At 1506 projects we saw Diane’s work. It’s good. Diane takes snapshots and then elevates them to iconic status by making superbly detailed paintings from them. I’m not obsessed with realist art, but the two opposing paintings of a grassy hill and a man’s hairy chest merit appreciation for two pieces of art that should be a dyptic. If I could own them, I would, but I would have to own both. Neal, who was hanging the paintings and told us that “I used to hang art professionally and the company I worked for would bill my time at $65 and hour and they would pay us $11.” Neal expressed an interest in the Billy Name show and I didn’t do a very good job at hiding my distaste. Neal recommended I see some Andy Warhol films just to see how they had influenced film production. I’ll rent them and I hope I don’t barf at the sense of vague megalomania involved.
I talked with David about Andy Warhol and he said that he respected Warhol for removing the artist from actually making his own artwork.
The day actually started at Saigon Deli and ended at the Schezuan Noodle Bowl. Mmmm.
