The Armory Show was Armored to Battle Basel

Why did I feel that my soul was not sucked out of my body at the Armory Show in NY as I did perusing the insanity that was Miami Basel?

Miamians ....errr... people from Miami, have an appreciation for being seen around art and culture. And because everything there is in excess, clearly being photographed around TONS of bad contemporary, wannabe ABEX paintings and Hirsts reveals "high culture."

To prove my point, Google "Miami art basel 2011" and you'll see mostly society pictures including P. Diddy in a zebra/leopard concoction. Google "Armory show ny 2012" and actual art will appear. Shocking.

The lack of fluidity in Miami Basel and the disconnected sequencing of art was more than disorienting... it was downright frustrating.

It takes the grid system of New York to clearly map out how an art fair should be run. The flow from Modern to Contemporary at the Armory Show made the art-viewing clear and logical.

I felt stifled and suffocated in the labyrinth of Miami... wading through layers and layers of mediocre art with a supremely high price tag was disheartening to say the least.

As a native NY'er, I am proud to say that in the battle between Armory and Miami Basel, the reigning champion was a fair that logistically made sense and did not overwhelm one's senses.

One of the many reasons I Art New York.

Channeling Gertrude in honor of the Steins Collect Exhibition

If you have not already seen the Steins Collect at the MET, go, go, go! It is laden with Matisses, Picassos, Cézannes galore, as well as a stunning pastel by one of my faves Odilon Redon. Also, "Four Saints in Three Acts, an opera written by Gertrude and set design by Florine Stettheimer, is featured. 


Please enjoy the prose that my lovely mother concocted in honor of Gertrude Stein's interesting linguistic abilities. 

The collection was one of looking and viewing and beholding at the Met Museum one to be and hold in the beholding of the joy in the enjoying of all that displaying.  Some were certainly following, commenting on this one and ones in the collection,  commenting and reading and looking and thinking  beholding in the walking in and out of the spaces in the rooms.  To be walking in and out one  beholding and viewing all the ones next ones  in the collection on the ones in the collecting. This one was one charming with charming meaning, certain with important meaning, historic meaning, meaning meaning that was coming out of and following importantly.  This one was one beholding and meaning always there was something coming out of and walking  viewing to other ones with meaning,  Some following the something coming out of this one  following the next one something completely charming!

Met in the Met

So it's been an insanely long time since I've blogged. Since then I've been spending an inordinate amount of time at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I've been to exhibitions featuring Indian art, Middle Eastern/Orientalism, and an American wing featuring the good, the bad, and the ugly of American artwork.. too bad there was so little of the former...

While I love the MET, there is still something daunting about the fact that when you leave one major exhibition, you still find yourself in a museum. The MET is a series of miniature (some not so miniature) exhibitions which can be constituted as museums. Essentially, the MET is a museum within a museum within a museum... ad nauseum.

The word labyrinth comes to mind, a maze of sorts.  And the moment I think of the word labyrinth, this also comes to mind... 

Which immediately leads me to think about something else...ummm... Dance magic dance...?

Tomorrow I'll be attending the preview of the Steins Collection. So excited to feast my eyes on Matisse and Cézanne and then feast on French cuisine in the Members Dining Room. Magnifique! 

Who Let the Dots Out?

As you all probably know how much I love, adore, and respect the work of Damien Hirst (pass the sick bucket), it is my pleasure to state that his entire spot painting collection(sssssssssssss) from 1986-2011 are being featured at the 11 Gagosian galleries around the world. (For 25 years the man has been spotting around).

To make the already interesting viewing even more exciting, if you make it to all 11 galleries within the span of Jan 12-Feb 18, you could be the proud owner of your very own completely unoriginal spot painting. Additionally, it will be signed by the artist who didn't even create the painting, but rather one of his assistants! (GASPING FOR AIR!)

So little time, soooooooooooo many dots! But don't worry... 3 out of the 11 galleries are in New York (two of which are 3 blocks apart... hmmm, someone didn't take urban planning courses!) Yet be prepared to fly out to Hong Kong, Athens, and Geneva, to name a few. It's so worth it though.... You could be in Rome looking at the artistic gems of Hirst whilst passing on Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. I mean, there's certainly a more religious, transcendental experience gazing into the hypnotic dots than anything the Renaissance masters had to offer.

Just a skinny man chillin' in the arms of some broad

I'll make you see the light via identical circles in different colors. I am a prophet. 

I'll leave you all with a thought. Which came first? The Gagosian or the Hirst? Whose brilliant idea was it to have the "Complete Spot Challenge?" The businessman or the businessman (aka artist)? Either way, being subjected to owning a spot painting after stalking the spots in 3 different continents is certainly no reward.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Resolutionizing: A Belated, Yet Relevant, Artsy Approach to the New Year.

R.I.P. 2011. 

2011-2011

1. Learn to see the beauty in the art that is Hirst. 

I like unicorns. I just don't like seeing them dead with a pathetically tragic expression. But at least it's a unicorn!

2. Honor the late Elizabeth Taylor by purchasing massive jewels and baubles, perhaps a tiara too, by wearing them as everyday jewelry. 

Bling Blau

3. Finally hang 4 paintings, 2 African masks, 1 Central American mask, and a partridge in a pear tree on my walls. 

4. Stop cringing when people say the Mona Lisa is the most beautiful work of art. Rather keep quiet but silently think... 

I still don't think she has a hot ass though... 

5. Get married 9 times and beat Elizabeth Taylor's record. Hey, if I can't have her jewels, at least I can have the men (and the fun). 

Just need 4 more and let the good times roll. 

Regimented Art.

Last week I took my mom to the Neue Galerie by 86th st and 5th ave. The Neue Galerie, founded by Serge Sabarsky, businessman/philanthropist and Ronald S. Lauder, art collector (from the Estee Lauder family), is devoted to early 20th century German and Austrian art and design (taken directly from their website - www.neuegalerie.org). Some of my favorite works and artists were there including, Gustav Klimt, Egon Schiele, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, Vasily Kandinsky, Franz Marc, and even Degas, Picasso and some elusive Brancusi sculptures make appearances. Needless to say, we were both extremely excited to visit this museum.

It was a blustery, wintry day and we were expecting to be swiftly admitted (we were there by 11am on a Friday). However, when we approached there was already a queue of about ten people or so standing in the cold. The security guard was letting people in two by two, very diligently at that. Absolutely no liquids are allowed inside, including water, which is stricter than most museum/gallery policy. My mom even claimed she had Diabetes and needed the water... alas, it was to no avail. The stringent and strict museum policies allow for ABSOLUTELY NO LIQUIDS OF ANY SORT to be allowed in. I was surprised I didn't have to check my mini bottle of hand sanitizer at the door. My mom asked to leave the unopened bottle of (insert name brand) water at the front door. The security guard barely consented but warned her that it may be gone when she came out. We both thought, "Why would anyone throw out an unopened bottle of __________ water?"

Well, policy got even tighter as we walked through the museum. If you decide not to check your coat and/or scarf/hat/gloves etc, you must wear them for your entire visit at the museum. Apparently there have been "incidents" in which coats have destroyed priceless works of art? Or perhaps a scarf got out of hand and strangled a sculpture to death? And one must watch out for those gloves which run rampant down the halls tripping people so that they fall on top of priceless objects....

Out of principle, I refused to check my coat, gloves, and scarf, and walked through the overly heated museum sweating as much as I would have as doing Bikram yoga in a sauna.

Additionally, there was a woman who operated the elevator helping you get to either the second or third floor.  With all of those buttons, surely people panic from confusion...

The actual museum was formerly a mansion. The marble staircase inviting people upstairs to the wood paneled rooms, created a warm and cozy feeling. Truly, the building is beautiful and very well-maintained, perhaps due to the fact that children 12-16 must be accompanied by an adult, while children under 12 are not admitted at all. That'll teach those havoc wreaking, art loving kids to stay back...

There are about two guards in each (small) room, heightening the feeling of anxiety and "Big Brotherness." However, the collection is worth the overbearing security regime. Sabarsky and Lauder did a fantastic job of securing a phenomenal assortment of Austrian and German works, at all costs, really. Klimt's Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, completed in 1907, was bought by Ron Lauder for $135 million in June 2006. The Vienna Secessionist, Klimt created this 138 x 138 cm gold and oil on canvas in an overtly decorative style. The delicacy of the woman is juxtaposed with the lavish and almost gaudy background creating a swirl of gilded fantasy.

Clearly, this purchase was a newsworthy event that intrigued the public, which could be seen by the crowd of people who surrounded this painting as though they had never seen a more beautiful work of art. Jaws dropped, heads tilted, and a glazed look came over those who gazed at this painting. While I am a fan of Klimt, this certainly is not my favorite work of his. In fact, Klimt's "The Dancer," which is also at the Galerie, is a more striking image.

However, there was nobody surrounding this painting... how driven the public is by over-consumption... Well, I was able to "consume" this painting in a fulfilling way as there was no one breathing on me or looming over me.

Another one of my favorites came from Schiele, with his ugly-sexy and highly eroticized "Self Portrait with a Twisting Arm" (1910).

Something about this really turns me on... and I have no idea why... nor do I care...

After ending in a room filled with medieval armor (apparently one of Lauder's collecting fascinations), we wanted to try Cafe Sabarsky, which is meant to be designed in a traditional Viennese Cafe fashion. There was a queue leading to the cafe, of which the hostess told us it would be a 30 minute wait and we could try the "German" style cafe, Fledermaus, downstairs. The lesser known, yet equally well designed cafe downstairs also had the same menu. Yet for some reason we determined to eat at Cafe Sabarsky. After a 10 minute wait, we were seated. That's a hostess who sure knows time estimation! We were seated at a tiny table by the fireplace, which was unlit. After we sat and placed our order, we noticed a beautiful window table become vacant. My mom asked a waiter if we could switch seats, and the waiter went to ask the hostess. The hostess came back asking if we had already ordered, which we replied "Yes." She then said, "Well, that makes things more complicated. The waiter won't know where to serve the food." Mind you, the table by the window was probably five feet (literally) from where we were currently seated. "Please ask the waiter," my mom said, "I have hip problems (fabricated) and need to sit in a cushioned seat." The waiter came to our table and said it was fine to switch almost laughing to himself that we wouldn't be able to due to all the "confusion" that would ensue...

The new table was much to our liking as there was light that shone in and we had a beautiful view of Central Park. The food was also to our liking. The Bratwurst mit Sauerkraut & Rösterdäpfel was delicious. The roasted sausage skin was crackling and crisp whilst the inside was juicy and succulent. The riesling sauerkraut was the perfect blend of sweet from the wine that cut the acidity of the kraut. The dijon mustard to dip the sausage in was pungent yet worked well with the sausage. We also ordered a pretzel that came with a delicious Bavarian honey mustard. Again the sweet and savory combination was perfect. I was less enthused with the hot chocolate, that actually came with a water chaser due to its intensity. The dark chocolate was not very distinct in flavor and seemed watered down. The whipped cream floating atop was the best part. Not to be missed are the desserts, so of course we indulged. The Sachertorte, or dark chocolate cake with apricot confiture, was rich and decadent. We couldn't finish the small piece due to its intensity. I certainly would eat at Cafe Sabarsky again.

The experience at the Neue Galerie was overall quite positive, despite the fact that the unopened bottle of water was thrown out upon our leaving. Also, the excessive rules and regulation made me feel even more uncomfortable in the German/Austrian museum. I got the strange sensation that someone was going to pop out screaming "Achtung!" if I accidentally breathed irregularly. They run a tight ship there is an understatement. Mussolini, himself, couldn't have held it down tighter. Looking at the German artwork and feeling this sense of oppression was chilling to say the least. However, to view some of the most amazing German Expressionist and Austrian artists, I'll deal with the bureaucracy.

The Emperor's New Clothes

Once upon a time... there lived a miscreant who called himself the (scam) "artist." He would use chicanery to seduce snobs and elitists to purchase his "art." Some of his "art" would look like enlarged balloon animals ... or perhaps a massive jewel bauble ... or even a heart-shaped ornament ready for a giant-sized Christmas tree of 100 ft or more. What they all have in common is that they are bright, shiny, and highly commercialized objects.

This "artist" was clearly not creative enough to have come up with the idea of duping highfalutin art enthusiasts into appreciating and purchasing a "concept" rather than actual artwork. The story comes from Hans Christian Anderson's "The Emperor's New Clothes." Here is the summary of the plot according to Wikipedia:

An Emperor who cares for nothing but his appearance and attire hires two tailors who promise him the finest suit of clothes from a fabric invisible to anyone who is unfit for his position or “just hopelessly stupid”. The Emperor cannot see the cloth himself, but pretends that he can for fear of appearing unfit for his position; his ministers do the same. When the swindlers report that the suit is finished, they mime dressing him and the Emperor then marches in procession before his subjects, who play along with the pretense. Suddenly, a child in the crowd, too young to understand the desirability of keeping up the pretense, blurts out that the Emperor is wearing nothing at all and the cry is taken up by others. The Emperor cringes, suspecting the assertion is true, but holds himself up proudly and continues the procession.

Living in an art world that has become heavily commercialized, I find that pretense has the potential to run rampant among some of those who live in it. Those who think that Jeff Koons is a "visionary" by making a killing on nothing other than "pretty" objects, heavily underscores the pretense.

While I can respect Mr. Koons for attempting to "beat" the system and pulling the wool over the eyes of spectators, collectors, and art historians alike, there is still the idea that some are being left with egg on their faces.

At a "Contemporary Art Post 1970" lecture at the MoMA with a very scholarly art historian, the group was shown Koons' basketballs floating in a tank of water. Great time was spent on explaining this work and finally one of the visitors asked the lecturer, "What are your thoughts on Jeff Koons?" After a few moments of thought, the lecturer responded, "Well, I am fascinated by Koons. He knows how to work the system and has almost beat it. His work is not my favorite, but he certainly knows how to confuse and baffle, while intriguing the art world. For this reason I love him."

While I respect her answer, because honestly that's how I probably would have answered, there is still a big question in my mind. When did the artist's showmanship abilities come to be valued more than the actual artwork? J.A.M. Whistler was also a great showman, but his work was meaningful and filled with a transcendental presence. Koons' work has me grounded so deeply in a superficial reality that it makes my head spin.

Are patrons who buy his work walking around naked... or rather are they dressed  in sartorial elegance?