Lizzy Lizzard Lips

Birthday fun

2006-07-23T03:36:00.000-04:00

I had a lot of fun at my birthday party. Despite one moderately painful day-after chastizing from my landlord (oh, I am so bad with the guilt, be still my perfectionist heart) the li'l party went swimmingly: probably because no one went swimming. I drank too much, stayed up too late, ate too much cake, and generally acted as though it was my birthday. Despite the L train's best efforts at ruining everything, fun was managed to be had.

Today brought (in approximately chronological order): exhausted hangover, brunch, mid-level stress about my personal life, previously mentioned chastizing, and stress relief in the form of a season 2 sex in the city episode in which Charlotte lies about her age and acts a carefree, drunk, irresponsible, and unabashedly YOUNG twenty-seven-year-old.

My Lady in the Interweb

2006-07-18T22:32:00.000-04:00

Check out Todd Gibson's DCM reference
While I am speaking of Dorothy Canning Miller (my thesis subject, for those of you who are wondering what the hell I am talking about) two incredibly small contributions to the literature that I plan to make soon:
1. David Hopkins's pseudo-textbook After Modern Art, which I bought in one of those Amazon "add-this-book-to-your-order-for-only-six-dollars" deals, not only misattributes curation of "The New American Painting," it misattributes it to "Alfred J. Barr," not Miller's mentor and friend Alfred H. Barr, Jr. I'm gonna write them and make them fix that shit in the next edition. The misattribution is somewhat understandable, given art historians' tendency to overlook Miller (which I address in my thesis, if anyone is interested) but getting the name of the most significant museum director (sorry, Mr. d'Harnoncourt) of the 20th century wrong? totally unacceptable.
2. DCM doesn't have an entry in Wikipedia. I think I will have to fix that.

No flags involved

2006-07-16T22:16:00.000-04:00

On Friday I took advantage of "summer hours" - summer hours are the best thing that has ever happend to me - and went to Long Island City to do some third borough art perusing. (in case there is any doubt about my numerical system: 1. Bklyn 2. the Mall 3. Qns 4. Bx 5. Shaolin.) Yes, I went to PS1 and saw the show of dirty pictures, ahem, "Into Me/Out of Me, a group exhibition about the imagined, descriptive, and performative act of the passing into, through, and out of the human body," and a boring but significant show of Ron Gorchov's boring but significant pictures. (Best thing at PS1 was a 1959 Stan Brackage film, "window water baby moving", and the most stupid-yet-I-can't-look-away (there were too many to pick a worst) was a RISD-project-looking video of a girl being fucked while boredly and clumsily putting on makeup, by who knows)
But Sculpture Center made my day. First of all, Sculpture center has by far the cutest front desk boy of all arts organizations in the tristate. Second of all, he gave me some free postcards 'cause I told him one of the projectors was broken. Third, the show - Grey Flags - was super. I didn't think I like the Atlas Group, because in the last year they have been a little overexposed and nothing ever resonated with me, and plus I don't really understand if they are telling the truth or not, but in the (scary) sculpture center basement, next to a lovely Tacita Dean film of a sunset, they had a really great little film about a Lebanese security-camera operator who went off his intended target to film the sunset every day, and got fired but was allowed to keep his sunset footage. So the film is his sunset footage. And it's super. And I hope they are telling the truth.
Kelley Walker's installation was also super, and did I mention the front desk boy?
On that note, the Public Theater's MacBeth last weekend was fine, a little on the mediocre side, except for Liev Scheiber in knee high boots. Yow. Worth every penny of the beer, ice cream, starbucks, and lawn chair the 'free' ticket cost. And the agony of yet another dry-ice filled boil, bubble, toil and trouble. Or whatever.

back to the 9 to 5 grind

2006-07-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

(actually, it's 10 to 6, but I don't want to make anyone jealous)

And I'm back to the blog, and the world, after June vanished into a crazy working-every-day vortex.

I have am master’s degree, and therefore should be too smart to write about work on my blog. So I’ll do my best to avoid it. But, as some of you know, I have a new job to go with my new degree, new roommate, and still kind of shiny single status. I started full time on Wednesday, as the museum professionals from former Communist countries have gone home, and therefore I am (mostly) done with that project.

For the past month, I have been squeezing in a few days a week at the new gig, but it felt like I was temping for myself. Now I hope to get down to business and figure out what I am actually supposed to be doing. In the meantime, I am re-learning how to pass for a professional, refining my pre-walking on the subway, and researching lunch places uptown. (Best so far is Kitchenette, even if it is a little pricey for nonprofit everyday.)

But, most happily, I reinflated the tires on my bike, purchased a NOVEL (Apex Hides the Hurt, it's fantastic so far), drank a lot of beer at the World Cup (Viva France! I mean Italy! I mean, penalty kickoffs! Whatever! Woooo!) and got from ebay the remaining yarn for my niece's first present. Soon I will visit museums again, so look for a ramp up on exhibition reviews on this page.

Mother's Day

2006-05-14T23:06:00.000-04:00

Jose at Castro Food Center said, "Happy Mother's Day - I don't know if you a mother or not, but ..." Some mother I would be, since he only ever sees me buy Ballantine Ale, cafe con leche, and toilet paper.

I've been in a strange mood all day. In Josef Joffe's The Way We Live Now in the New York Times Magazine today, a phrase really affected me. "Between Vietnam and Iraq." Not as in, the similarities between the two, but as a chronological period: "Between Vietnam and Iraq, America's cultural presence has expanded into ubiquity, and so has the resentment of America's soft power."

I have never seen this phrase used this way in print before but it was instantly familiar. Four words that describe the time period of my life (our lives, most of us) thus far.

It made me really sad.

I (heart) 95

2006-05-07T00:44:00.001-04:00

Chatty valiantly agreed to drive down to Philly to see Zoe's show under I-95. And it was the greatest thing ever. As we all know, I am slightly prone to exaggeration, but I really mean it this time. I bought eight $5 pictures (a huge expense on my finishing-grad-school budget, but I did manage to snag two pretzels, about a dozen hugs, and three sticky pieces from the pillars at 3:05). Zoe is pure f**king genius, I say this because of her impeccable eye, her phenomenal cuteness, and her commitment to art in (and ABOUT) public spaces. But most importantly, Zoe is the rarest of fancy artists today: she appears genuinely, deeply in LOVE with what she is doing. She obsesses about the tiniest details of the hanging, freaks out about her cool new printer, does not appear to ever stop talking to random members of the public about her work, and best of all, smiles. Smiles! constantly! And I have never seen her wear black. Here, my friends, is the perfect example of the post-postmodern artist. Somebody who gives a shit and wants her work to actually say something.

By the way, I called the Bucksbaum! Congratulations Mark Bradford!!

Mark Bradford
Originally uploaded by markart.

New observations

2006-05-10T23:24:00.000-04:00

I didn't notice in the last post the parallels between getting a (master's) hood and leaving the (neighbor)hood. I guess no one else did either.

Other notes: Fortune 500 company apparently hates me. I hate them back (unless they change their mind). Looking for a job is worse than dating, seriously, in both situations you try to look pretty and sit across the table from someone and sound interesting, but no one even buys you a drink at a job interview. (If they do, please forward listings asap.)

And, finally, an observation during the research for my last paper of grad school: There is now one whole entire room on the fourth floor at MoMA devoted entirely to a single female artist. Ok, it's the smallest room in the place and it only has three pictures, but Bridget Riley wins this week's token prize. I honestly wasn't paying enough attention to the permanent collection galleries the last ten times I've been there, so I can't say if it's new or not. Heartening or disheartening, maybe both.

DONE

2006-05-07T23:03:00.000-04:00

I am finished with graduate school. Tomorrow I will put on my pretty dress, my shiny shoes, and my rented polyester robe. Then Dr. BA will "hood" me and I will go eat fancy mexican food with my family and drink with my pals.

I am terrified of this. Today at the Sopranos bar I cried because of the whacking-Adrianna flashback sequence, but that wasn't really it. I cried because I don't have a permanent job or a significant other or a grandma.

I am done with the 'hood. I am moving next week. I haven't packed. I have reached the same level of education as my parents and my beautiful pregnant sister in law.

I am having seraration anxiety. I think I might get another Master's, this one in actual "art history." Maybe at Hunter. Maybe a pH.D. after all. I am a lifelong learner. I listen to the French PodClass.

I'm scared and excited and lonely.

Tomorrow I get my M.A.

Lizzy's picks for the Bucksbaum

2006-04-24T23:18:00.000-04:00

After several five-minute bursts of thinking, I have my picks for the Bucksbaum Award. Since I am (clearly) not a juror, these choices are of absolutely no consequence, which is why I am sharing them with y'all. These do not necessarily reflect my favorite artists in the Biennial - that award goes unequivocally to Zoe Strauss - but rather a completely arbitrary mix of whose work I like in and out of the show, who I think might have a chance of winning, who I think will be a fancy famous artist someday, and, most importantly, who I think could have a decent exhibition in the sort-of-crappy lobby gallery at the Whitney.
They are, in no order:
Mark Bradford
Otabenga Jones & Associates
Cameron Jamie
I hate to admit it, but they are all dudes! In fact, Otabenga is actually FOUR dudes.
Runners up included Trisha Donnelly (whose work until yesterday I wasn't even sure that I liked), Anthony Burdin (who I think is amazing but doubt will win), Marilyn Minter (like they're going to give to someone who actually paints nice pictures), Paul Chan, Ann Collier, Jutta Koether, Dorothy Iannone, and Billy Sullivan (he actually was not a runner up but I added him to the list just now because I actually stood through the whole slideshow yeaterday when I was giving a "tour" to Chris-n-Chris and it was just super, high-quality solid super, not trendy or achingly innovative or anything, but great juxtapositions of goregeous photos accompanied by reasonable music and the satisfying click of slide projectors. I was close to tears several times and I barely even recognized any celebrities [that's probably why I liked it so much, I just thought they were regular people])
I sort of have my heart set on Otabenga, maybe a little bit because of diversity but probably just because I think they ROCK and would like to see what they would make for a new show, and if it would involve any Nichiha. I don't think Mark will win because he already had a show at Altria and Cameron loves in Paris (loves was a typo but I'm keeping it) so I think they'll avoid all the post-America bullshit if they don't pick him.
If someone else wins, I am positive that I left them off the list accidentally because I am tired and stressed out 'cause my day just had surgery (he's okay, I hear, don't worry).

News From Lizzy

2006-04-18T20:08:00.000-04:00

(chronological)
1. I found a lovely apartment share in Billysburg with a nice painter girl named Tara, and am moving May 15.
2. I turned in my thesis. I think it might not suck.
3. I got called by a human resources department at a Fortune 500 corporation (#66). I called them back.
4. I went to the Russian and Turkish Baths. There were no Turks but a man from Turkmenistan beat Alliecat with some tree branches after asking her to take her bikini top off (she refused) and covering her head with a towel. Apparently one usually pays for this service but she got it free for being cute. I thought it was a little Abu Ghraib.
5. I got some yarn for a secret knitting project that I can tell you about as long as your name is not Chris or Ann.
6. Boys in the 'hood asked me how is my ex. I ran inside and closed the shutters.
7. I set my glasses on fire.

The best news ever

2006-03-12T13:11:00.000-05:00

Found this out by accident, apparently they were going to tell me at a reasonable date after doctor's appointments and whatnot, but through a miracle of procrastination I happened to read Ann's blog. What I mean to say is - MY BROTHER AND SISTER IN LAW ARE HAVING A BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, a BABY!!!!!! A little adorable Gwinn-Zawistoski nerdlet!!!!!!!!!!! Gramma Gwinn is so happy right now, and so am I!!!!!!!! (as you may be able to tell by the plethora of exclamation points).
I don't want to jinx anything, or put any unreasonable expectations on this child-to-be, but its so hard not to make Aunt Liz plans!
Like a baby membership at the Walker (or I guess a family membership, so C & A can go too) and our first trip to Europe together and our matching tattoos when it turns eighteen and ... (i'd better stop before I get in trouble)
and, oh, the kntting projects. The knitting projects. Did I mention the knitting projects? Like Anouk if it's a girl and cargo pants if it's a boy and trellis and baby jeans either way and maybe a little something for the parents-to-be in the meantime. And that's just from knitty.
YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
On a less cool note, this is what you get if you google "Gwinn Baby." "Zawistoski Baby" is a little more satisfying.
Did I say yay? Ok.

'night!

2006-03-02T21:19:00.000-05:00

I haven't got anything to say except that it was really, really fun. Read the nasty reviews:
Michael Kimmelman!
Jerry Saltz!
Linda Yablonsky!
Blake Gopnik
Reuters on the Peace Tower
stupid artnet thing about labels (I hung 'em! well, except for the fake one)
AP
NY Sun
also
from the floor
& The stupid toni burlap website
ok? ok.

Shopping!

2006-02-20T21:35:00.000-05:00

My mother (the second of three readers of this blog) would be so proud of me. Today I went with my hip-sorority-girl (hsg) and downtown-lipstick-lesbian (dll) pals/co-workers to Lord & Taylor and bought a pretty new dress for the "Oscars of the art world" - the Biennial opening. hsg was rooting for something purple and taffeta from the designer sale rack but I was a little too reminded of the dress I wore to my brother's wedding and then wore only once to another wedding where the highlight of my evening was my now-ex attempting to take a nap on the couch at the Harvard Club. Needless to say, I was terrified away from the shiny purple dress and instead bought a cute strapless blue eyelet number- kind of punk-cowboy- that dll approved of. Now all I have to do is bedazzle some cowboy boots and confront my potential date. Sorry y'all don't get to see the dress - I looked for a pic online but no luck, and I think I spent the money I was saving for the digicam on the dress itself. As my scary frosh roomate used to say, "Fashion not function darling!"

I get to call it art. Eventually.

2006-02-07T22:21:00.000-05:00

Just realized that it is the 1-year anniversary of this here blog. Good thing I decided to pay attention again.
Today, after a very exciting six hours at thesis central I decided to do a little recreational research by seeing the new documentary "Who Gets to Call it Art?", about former Met curator of contemporary art Henry Geldzahler. It was fine. And apparently the answer to the title question is, independently wealthy gay white guys. I mean, I think Geldzaher is cool and stuff, I even liked his book, but two mentions of Helen Frankenthaler in the whole movie pissed my feminist ass off. Plus flick was a little ADD, with Calvin Tomkins and Ivan Karp talking over an abstract-expressionist blooper reel and "edgy" music going in the background the whole damn time. And David Hockney, well, the film could have been sixty, not eighty minutes long. Whatever, I guess it was worth ten bucks to hear Frank Stella talk about how Geldzahler's exhibitions placed contemporary art in historical context. Or at least see him wave around the same cup of coffee for eighty minutes. Aargh. Anyway, Film Forum has good popcorn.

Geekin' on the subway!

2006-02-09T22:54:00.000-05:00

I stole this picture from gleek.net, hope (s)he doesn't mind, but it was the most amazing thing that came up by googling "subway knitting."
The point being, I have achieved total knitgeek subway bliss through the discovery of KNITTING POD CASTS. I listened to my first one today, the adorable Annie Modesitt on KnitCast. So I am working away at my modified v-neck-not-cardigan Lucky, plugged into the Nano, when Ms. Modesitt started talking about how when she was in her twenties and living in New York, she decided to begin working professionally as a knitwear designer. So every day, she would go to a different museum and spend all day in the museum knitting. I about died at this vision of paradise. So check it out. There's another one called Cast On that I just subscribed to, another update after tomorrow's commute!

it doesn't really have much to do with this posting, but for the cutest ipod cozy ever check this out. Not sure if I'd pay five bucks, but M**k C***k will.

Mr. San-Man, bring me a dream ...

2006-02-07T21:34:00.000-05:00

Ok, after so many (well, two) requests, I'm back!
Upon the sad day of my resignation of the weirdest job ever, I made my beloved boss the weirdest/sweetest knitted item ever, for her 6-month-old grandson. (we snapped pix in the lunchroom and photoshopped till it was perfect.)

yes, its a baby sweater-uniform for the city's youngest san-man. You're right, it's amazing.

Still no digicam, but I'm weighing two options for the 5 seconds I get to splurge when I get my loan check: ultra-fancy jeans or a camera. Feedback welcome... the blog, or looking cute on all my upcoming single-girl dates? Decisions, decisons.

Gentrification

2005-11-29T18:59:00.000-05:00

I have to say, I am loving gentrification a little bit, as today is the first day ever that I am sitting in my comfy armchair here on Madison Street borrowing someone else's Wi-Fi. What's next, Larry's Liquid Love changing to Larry's Luscious Latte? Don't hate me because I love espresso ...

If I have any readers left, I apologize for the lack of posts recently. I blame my broken digicam (hmm, a gift idea?) but for the um, two, of you who might be interested in a knitting update, I finished JK's sweater, so now I can get down to the very serious business of ChrismaHannuKwaanzakuh knitting. It's really gorgeous. It's this pattern in lovely blue Vermont homespun yarn with a natural color stripe. And extremely long arms. And a nonsensical yellow square at the back neck, because it's for JK. Ok, now, use your imagination. Or FedEx me a camera ...

Again

2005-10-06T20:45:00.000-04:00

My digital camera, after a prolonged illness, is finally toast, and the repair estimate is $168. So I am not able to share my latest baby knitting accomplishment, for a new child whose relationship to me is far too complicated to explain, but is nevertheless deserving of a cardie. See the link above to knitty and the pix in my March 05 archive, and imagine lovely slate blue yarn from a yard sale in Somerville, Mass. But no hood. No baby is as cool as Aviva Berry, and therefore no baby gets a sweater as cool as hers. We gotta draw the line somewhere, people, I'm sure you understand.

Last Time Hot Cha Went Away...

2005-09-18T22:16:00.000-04:00

A floating island was his home. Then the phone rang off the hook and Hot Cha had to ... change his name to Robert Smithson?
My camera was dead at the opening of "Floating Island to Travel around Manhattan Island", so pardon the pilfered Times image. To really apprecitate it, though, it helps to see Smithson's drawing at the Whitney exhibition, and then marvel at how the Whitney, Minetta Brook, Nancy Holt and a team of landscapers that include my neighbor enacted the quirky, silly, cute, and profound floating sculpture concieved by Smithson in the 1970's.
The opening lacked wine or breathing room but still had a carnival atmosphere created by a bunch of jaded New York art people overcoming their skepticism and experiencing true surprise and glee to see something unique and actually, ahem, fun.
I still want a ride on it, though.

Ye Olde Prospective Employers

2005-08-11T19:00:00.000-04:00

JK and I spent a long weekend in scenic Western Massachusetts. While our friends' adorable two-month-old baby was by far the highlight of the trip, I will deign to report a few other highlights. In Northampton, I discovered my new favorite museum, "Ye Olde Watering Hole and Beer Can Museum." Featuring a world-class collection of nearly 5,000 (mostly empty) cans, helpful interpretive staff, and an excellent beverage selection at the popcorn-themed museum cafe, YOWaHO-BeCaM is destined to become an extremely popular cultural destination.
Just a short drive* away in North Adams is a slightly less compelling museum nevertheless worth a visit, the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art. There I saw what I might call the best thing I have seen in 2005, stage one of Cai Guo-Qiang's "Inopportune."(See Grace Glueck's spot-on review in the Times here and Artforum's vapid one here.)
I know I am a sucker, and I live in the most paranoid city in America, but I had to sit down against the cool wall and compose myself against whatever Mr. Cai was sending out from the ends of those blinky lights. I was close to tears, and accosted a kindly woman in a shawl to tell her that all I could think of was car bombs, even though the power of the piece was that I was actually thinking of a lot more than car bombs, but I was such a wreck I couldn't put it into words.
Despite having seen numerous pictures of the installation, I was still surprised and deeply relieved/moved/calmed to see that the last car (I think it is the same model as a NYC taxi -is this significant?!) landed undamaged. The following room, however, with its bombed-out fireworks car and a scene of Times Square swiftly reversed any calm I was feeling.
The tigers were super, too, but didn't affect me nearly as much. Perhaps if I had paid more attention during "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon..."
Anyway, if you visit MassMoCA, do save this for last if you can help it. The thing is, it's so good you can't bear to look at anything else afterward. Even Dave Cole's knitting thing (gasp!) looks a little contrived. (And, for the record, they don't have the 20-foot-long knitting needles on display, as advertised; furthermore, they do not grant free admission to AAM members without institutional ID.)

*It is divine to have a car at one's disposal every once in a while, though it pains me to admit it. (And a chauffeur -- thanks JK!)

Friedlander

2005-07-13T21:38:00.000-04:00

My old friend DaBella and I met up at MoMA on Sunday with the vague intention of going to the Cezanne-Pissarro show (or was it Matisse-Picasso?). However, the exhibition was so crowded that we ran away screaming and accidentally ended up in the Lee Friedlander retrospective. An excellent turn of events. While our first impression of the show was a nice-but-slightly-creepy security guard telling us that "Nothing in here is as lovely as you two," we got down to the business of being completly blown away by tiny little photos of unimportant things.
Like many others, I knew Mr. Friedlander as "that guy who made the weird reflection pictures in the 60's." After seeing about 10,000 other pictures (the show was rather extensive), I now know him as "that guy who made a whole bunch of really, really cool pictures including those weird reflection pictures from the 60's and 70's, excellent nudes, some pretty but un-cheesy landscapes, and the best goddamn photograph of a fire hydrant ever; also, that guy whose life's work can provide a endless sources of creative and silly storytelling by schoolchildren not to mention 25-year-old arts professionals." Worth a visit, but you'll need a cocktail when you're done. And golly ... now comes the glowing recommendation of Terrace 5 (don't google it or you'll be scared by Dante). After considering the "abstract expressionism" I ordered a "cubism" from our handsome young waiter in an adorable uniform of penguin polo shirt and black pants. The bus girl (in the same sexy uniform) brought me a glass full of concord grape juice ice cubes and poured some delightful mixture of lemony vodka over the top from a shaker. The cubes instantly turned the drink a delightful rosy purple -- although, honestly, the color I associate most with cubism is tan -- and the only thing that could have made it more delightful was if Danny Meyer had invented some kind of grown-up peanut butter sandwich to accompany it. Kicked the old cafe's stodgy old butt even if I do miss the droog design lights.

VENICE

2005-07-08T18:30:00.000-04:00

Venice was great. The greatest thing about it was spending time with my nifty Dad, but the second best thing about it was Olafur Eliasson's installation "Your Black Horizon" on the island San Lazzaro in Venice's lagoon. True to Dan Flavin's philosophy that religious-pilgrimage-type trips, or at least working a bit, enhance the viewer's perceptivity and openness to the art (or whatever it is that Dan Flavin's philosophy was), the almost-solitary vaporetto ride from busy San Marco to the wee island (which otherwise is home only to an [abandoned?] Armenian monastery) had me contemplating the horizon, and the marvelous color of light in the lagoon. After this the experience of horizon-inversion (a dark room with a line of light where the horizon should be instead of a horizon line in a bright field) was really neat. Not so easy to describe, so I'll just say it was even better than grappa, and just as consciousness-altering. For slightly more literate info see the Thyssen-Bornemisza Art Contemporary Foundation, who funded the project. Thanks guys!

BROOKLYN

2005-07-07T20:53:00.000-04:00

Today while I was riding my bike home from work, passing through MetroTech Plaza, some guy turned to look at me and said, "Hey, get a job." I might have been humming a Beatles tune, but still! I was riding home from work!

Coney Island - JK Shoots a Freak!

2005-06-18T22:06:00.000-04:00

So this is M**k C***k guest blogging here. We just returned from a trip to Coney Island, JK and Lizzy rode, while I took the painfully slow F train! Highlights: Art signs, mural, the Cyclone, free beer, and, well, JK shot a freak. Too bad we don't have any pictures of that. But a nice paintball shot to the head, leaving a nice orange splatter across the 'freak's' forehead. Don't worry he was wearing eye protection. The cyclone kicked ass, if you are in the area get your butt on the cyclone, and spend the time waiting to get front row seats. JK and I got front seats on our second ride, and it is freak'n scary. You not only feel like you are opposing gravity, but you also feel that the ride will come crashing down bellow you. The 4G turns stick you against the person next to you, and the ride always does a nice little jolt, making one feel like it wants to come loose of its moorings. Thanks JK on the second ride, I didn't think I could have done it, but was happy I did!

Oh I almost forgot the infamous FREAK SHOW. We entered as Eek the Geek (that is chicken head eating type for all you) was lighting a flaming torch off of his tongue, because he was strapped into an electric chair and was giving off sparks! Then the amazing sword swallower swallowed a 2 foot sword followed by a 4 foot sword. I am not going to remark on the obvious fellatio jokes here, or else everyone will think that I am being a sexist bastard, but I was definitely thinking those thoughts. The fire eater was less than impressive, but had some great tattoos. The Block head put a ice pick, nail, and a SPOON into his naval cavity. Unlike me putting a corkscrew through my septum. The snake charmer who was dancing with the fat and lazy snake. The most impressive part of this was she tried to eat the snake, and it didn't look to fazed, I think they doped up the snake, and the amazing plastic woman (who was also the sword swallower), JK and I paid US$1.00 to see how she fit in the box, and if you want to know you will have to check it out for yourself and paid the US$1.00. It kicked ass! I'm now at Lizzy's place and we are having icecream for dinner.

Don't forget to check out the grammar Police record of Coney Island !

The Nomadic Exhibition Space

2005-06-05T10:50:00.000-04:00

JK and I finally went to see "The Nomadic Museum" and its exhibition of Gregory Colbert's photographs called Ashes and Snow. The NM, designed by Shigeru Ban -- one of the horde of celebrity architects prancing recently through the pages of the liberal press -- was beautiful but it wasn't a museum. (After an exhausting year of redefining museums, I have decided that anybody who will let me in for free with my AAM card is a museum; the NM cashier was pleasant and efficient but demanded my six dollars [twelve for real grownups].)

Roberta Smith already wrote, more eloquently than I can, almost everything I thought. In summary, the shipping-crate building is cool but the photgraphs suck. If you are anywhere near a bus shelter or a copy of the New Yorker, you've already seen them. They are almost unbearably sentimental, tinged with a semi-offensive and VERY tired portrayal of "primitive" or "other" people as at one with nature and animals, serving as an inspiration for us harried, modern, sucessful city-dwellers. Or whatever. Cute kids in faraway places hugging elephants.
JK's irritation at the hourlong wait for a 15-minute visit was made only slightly better by the stunning interior and some delightful ice cream we ate while waiting on the line. I guess I'm glad that I went but it did make me kind of depressed. The place was packed, and while I am always happy to see lines for an art exhibition, my populism was strained. Are all these people here only because Rolex bought a lot of ads? Am I so out of touch that I am nauseated by something the "general public" finds deeply touching? Is museum architecture more important that what's inside? Sigh.
Anyway, the cathedral-like space formed by cardboard tubing was amazing (photo blurry due to stealth). And then we had a nice bike ride.