Showing posts with label Matthew Barney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew Barney. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Cake Walk 2007

Winners of this year's Art Show Cake Walk (a.k.a. my personal favorite art sightings of 2007)


More Barney! The Cremaster Cycle in it's entirety. Because you can never have enough Barney! (I know he believes this too, else his works wouldn't be so Big and Long, yah?) Since I hadn't ever seen them all, this was a real treat. (Thank you Red Vic Theatre.) Revisiting the endless car-crashing/smashing was good—like old friends so indelibly rubbed and rammed into my head (Cremaster 4.) But the motorcycle race (Cremaster 3) around the island, the yellow and blue, oh that was the best. Crawling up the entrails of the land. Oh he has tap danced his way deep into my heart.

An honorable mention goes to Matthew Barney: No Restraint the film by Alison Chernick that revealed just what was happening to Matthew and Bjork below the waist, below the surface, in his film Drawing Restraint. It was almost like being back there on the big whaling ship extending the Barney love-fest into a second year following on his residence at SFMoMA in 2006. We miss you Barney—oh 'tis true. A gold star for The Red Vic Theatre for showing great films.


Kate Garner show (at Varnish Gallery) of large loud photographs of UK club stars knocked me out. The portraits of Identitists (ID - identity artists) Leigh Bowery and Booby Tuesday (see pic) were super—superhuman—bigger than life, breathtaking. Besides for the bold makeup-mask-total body transformations, there was a cut up of bits and parts of the very image making the images dance on the page. What's real, what's not? I loved it.


A Rose Has No Teeth —Bruce Nauman's early work from the 60s at the Berkeley Art Museum was a great show. There was latex sculptures, neon, plates of steel, and video, such as Walking in an Exaggerated Manner Around the Perimeter of a Square which was completely engaging. There was also his Performance Corridor a tight 20 inch wide, corridor constructed of plywood that you could walk down just like he did getting the experience of narrowness first not just second-hand.

And then, speaking of second-hand, there were old works reworked into new works: stills of his face-pulling videos now self-portraits, second-hand. (Infrared Outtakes: Neck Pull, Opened Eye, Cockeye Lips, Hands Only, (photographed by Jack Fulton), 1968/2006)
There's something so marvelous about these rough-and-ready works, so stripped down and direct. It's been how many years now, and still they leave bite marks.



Zidane: A Twentieth Century Portrait It was after the World Cup, so I actually knew who Zidane was before seeing this incredible film by Douglas Gorgon and Philippe Parreno made using multiple cameras located all around the field. I loved the slowed motion, the repetition, the use of film not as narration but revelation.




Speaking of revelation, getting to see a Marilyn Minter in person made me ecstatic. I missed her big show at SFMoMA in 2005 being out of the country (a good excuse if there is one), so I was happy to see the piece—Strut— the museum acquired. Her painting of a bejeweled high heeled slipper is just exquisite in a romantic Cinderella sort of way. This is the flipside of Zidane, painting that is sharp, cinematic and wryly narrative.




Berkeley Art Museum hosted new work by Abbas Kiarostami other than his incredible, moving, spare feature films. His still photos of trees and rain and hillsides are like the best of his filmmaking—the presence of the land, the elements, the living breathing non-human. Pacific Film Archive then took the cake by showing Five his sequence of five short films of a seaside: stationary camera, single shot, lean; a steady gaze on what happens in a space and within a time frame. There was nothing so thrilling as sitting in a theater watching a black screen listening to a frog sing. A black screen. Not for a few seconds, but for as long as it took. This man is a powerful visionary.

Best Of Lists are sort of boring mostly—things I've seen and liked, things you might not have seen, so what? But don't you like the way these pictures go together? The wild hair-headdress/face mutilation thing going on in the first two, the gritty men's faces, the leaning feet n trees, rain n mud-? I did it on purpose. Now it's not so boring.

Friday, June 8, 2007

Go See Richard Serra



Since returning to San Francisco I had it on my list to go see the Richard Serra at the Gap Headquarters building on the Embarcadero. But first the new Richard Serra at the new UCSF medical campus was unveiled. Quietly. Last time, it seems, there was an uproar about a Richard Serra being installed in a public space in San Francisco, so this time they just did it without a lot of fan fare. (Who are these people complaining?) Now there's Richard Serra on TV (with Charlie Rose last night), Richard Serra at MoMA (see above, by Fred Conrad for NYTimes).
Richard Serra Richard Serra Richard Serra. Well, if I were Matthew Barney I'd have Richard Serra in my movie too.

Richard Serra takes the cake.

Last night when Charlie Rose tried to impress as an insightful instigator of the profound, Richard Serra held his ground and firmly impressed. The man is articulate and sure, and for the first time I really saw how a person's work is an emmanation out of their character. This man is as large and profound as his works. He is virtuous.

"Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?" (Twelfth Night)

There's virtue and ... virtue. Morality (no, I don't mean that) and power (yes, that) and quality. Virtue is the Te of the Tao (as in Tao Te Ching which means The Book (Ching) of the Way (Tao) and its Virtue (Te).) Virtue is quality - and character. The more one is centered and grounded in the Tao, in the natural particular way of oneself, the more sure and clear ones virtue (essence) appears. Serra's work is a tangible material manifestation of the quality of the man. Serra's work is powerful.

Serra in San Francisco






This piece is tall. Two tall flat steel panels situated in a quad by a dormatory in the flat campus by the bay. The panels are slightly, whimsically tilted. They are massive. Standing next to them they are like redwoods. Up. And then there is that tilt. Tilt. 2 -3 inches thick. Stately. Tall. Very simple, and surprizing how two panels so can cut and shape the air that is in that vast space above the ground between big buildings. Amazing they don't fall over. Tilt and awe.




Charlie Brown is the piece inside the Gap Headquarters. (When it was being built, Charles Schultz died, so Serra named it after his character. Art trivia.) Four tall panels gently folded inward at the top leaning shoulder to shoulder creating a hollow space that sound travels up into an extended reverb out the top. (Yes, look, it's true: steel can be gently folded.) It stands inside a courtyard four stories high. Cozy.
(I took the first pic just before the guard ran over and told me No Photos! So I nabbed the top-down pic from www.scultura-italiana.com.)

Serra in Berlin




While I'm at it I might as well reminisce about finding a lonely Serra in Berlin - beside the golden Berliner Philharmonie, but now situated in a driveway - so it's aptly named Berlin Junction but looks somehow like a traffic obstruction. Two panels laid horizontally and curving into one another, the ends sweeping into the sky and echoing the lines of the concert hall.


(Pic from www.scultura-italiana.com.)

I like Richard Serras. If I were in NYC now, I'd go see the retrospective. Go rub up against a big piece of steel. Works for me.