...more recent posts
Here's one I think goes here, or it could go into that thread about the bomber guy who Jim was wondering about. I think I saw him today and the reason I say that is because I think I remember a picture of that abortion bomber guy or I could be thinking about a guy from Florida (who is maybe in jail or just not hiding in NC?). I'm not sure but the thing is this guy I saw today was a masterpiece of malevolent geekiness, right out of central casting, even down to the tape on the bridge of his black rimmed glasses. Its Mardi Gras here in New Orleans so there's a lot of freaks in town.
Quiet Sunday morning on Rocheblave. I'm unloading tools. A block and a half a way scavengers are searching the Canal Blvd. neutral ground for lost treasures ( drugs, money, beads, and aluminum). Last night was the big Endymion parade. Frankie Muniz (?) was Grand Marshall. A half block the other way, on Bienville, The Baptist church is serenading the neighborhood with electronic hymns, nothing too inspiring but it lets you know you are in a God fearing vicinity, which can be a helpful reference point.
Across the street Muddy is tidying up in front of his very small sagging house. His mom is back in the hospital. The house is reminiscent of those "cribs" that were to be found in the neighborhoods surrounding the infamous Storyville district a hundred years ago. Muddy is pulling weeds from the small flower bed which is occupied by one large bush, and the diminishing weeds. He and I are working leisurely at similar, what could be called Sunday morning, speed.
The first time the late model panel truck with California plates passed, Muddy and I just shook our heads and went on working. After the fourth time, and without conferring, we are both pretty much done with this character, and find ourselves meeting in the middle of the street for his fifth pass. "What's up with this guy," I wondered out loud, and Muddy said, "I know, I was gonna stop him this time."
So we do, we stop him, we the protesters against protest. I asked him for some of his literature so I could refer to the correct group when I wrote George Bush to thank him for unleashing this version of conservatism on America. The man was fronting for a right to life organization that was making its point of how awful is abortion by showing on the side of this panel van a six by eight foot photograph of a red bloody late term aborted fetus. See how awful this is?, this is what your tax dollars pay for was the basic message of the pamphlets he retrieved from the back of the van, inside which he appeared to be camping.
Also in the back of the van were these three foot square canvasses stacked side by side, six or eight deep, each, if it is fair to judge from the one that was visible, being representations of aborted babies. The canvasses had an aged patina, and I came to think of them as art while standing there behind this guy's van, telling him in effect not to pass this way again. And then there came to me the conflict which perhaps is required of "good" art and I thought what would someone like NY's Guilliani make of these pictures. Would they be good things, or bad things? If there was a seminar I would attend so that I could move away from this nonplussed state from which I suffer and into that glare of enlightenment. The seminar would be called "When Conservatives become too Liberal." There would be free food.
"Afghanistan's ancient and imposing Buddhist relics are seen as 'idols.' "
.....now out of favor with the Taliban rulers, their destruction has been ordered.
My friend has really been talking up this show at P.S. 1 featuring the illustrated manuscript of Henry Darger. There's quite a few references to Darger on the web. This one is quite informative. He died in 1972 at the age of 80 (or so.) But it wasn't until some time later that his "secret" manuscript was found by his landlord.
"His landlord was cleaning out his room after his death and came across a startling discovery: alone in his room, Darger had created a beautiful and violent fantasy world, primarily embodied in a 15,000 page epic narrative, 'The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion.' Illustrated by several hundred large watercolors paintings as well as smaller drawings and collages, the Vivian Girls are seven preadolescent sisters, princesses, sometimes depicted as hermaphrodites, who fight against and ultimately prevail over evil deeds prepetrated by sadistic adults. They are aided in their battles by various Christian armies and also by Blengins, dragon-like animals, both fearsome and gentle, that are absolute protectors of children. The illustrations range from calm and pastoral to brutally violent."Looks interesting. I love the idea that someone would create a 15,000 page illustrated manuscript and then never show anyone. That's some dedication to your craft. Any of you art folks ever hear of this guy? Do you think it might be worth the trip?
jesus says --
Can You Say ? (You Can See) :
'Poetry Plastique'
Marianne Boesky
535 West 22nd Street, Chelsea
Through March 10
"Art and poetry: made for each other. So it has always been. Poets write about art; artists turn
to poetry for ideas. Sometimes the two disciplines meet in collaboration; occasionally that
collaboration is forged in the work of a single person. All these variables are aired in "Poetry
Plastique," in which image and word are flexibly intertwined.
Organized by Jay Sanders, who is on the staff at Boesky, and the poet Charles Bernstein, the
selection covers a stretch of recent historical ground. At the early end are scribbly,
word-peppered Blakean pages by Robert Smithson from 1962 and a labyrinthine written
piece by the arch-Fluxian Jackson Mac Low from 1975. The 1970's are well represented
here, with work by Carl Andre, Wallace Berman and text- and-image collaborations by
Arakawa and Madeline Gins.
Other work is new. Mr. Bernstein collaborates with Richard Tuttle on a witty sculpture made
of plump, strung together 3-D letters, and with Susan Bee on a noirish painting in which
Emily Dickinson and Mickey Spillane face off. Dickinson's attenuated handwriting finds an
echo in Mira Schor's word paintings. The show enters the digital realm in a rich
text-and-image work by Johanna Drucker and Brad Freeman, and in Tan Lin's
computer-generated poetry pulsing away on three monitors.
The day after the show opened, the gallery was host to a series of related panel discussions
and readings. Poets and artists participated. A big audience turned up. It was great. The buzz
of voices and ideas made the art in the room — and Chelsea itself, for that matter — feel alive
and interactive. Some of the pieces really need that charge; they look staid and hermetic
without it. But others do fine on their own, and the cross-disciplinary concept behind the
show is ripe for further exploration.
Perhaps Mr. Sanders and Mr. Bernstein already have further plans along these lines.
Meanwhile, art and texts mutually ignite elsewhere in the city these days: in Cy Twombly's
not-to-be-missed "Coronation of Sesostris" paintings, based on a poem by Patricia Waters, at
Gagosian Gallery (980 Madison Avenue, at 76th Street, through tomorrow); in a
collaboration between the painter Max Gimblett and the poet John Yau at Ethan Cohen Fine
Art (37 Walker Street, SoHo, through March 10); in a series of collaborative prints by
contemporary Puerto Rican artists and poets at El Taller Boricua (Lexington Avenue at 106th
Street, through tomorrow); in an exhibition of contemporary text-based works, "A Way with
Words," at the Whitney at Philip Morris (120 Park Avenue, at 42nd Street, through March
30); and in a jewel of an exhibition of artists' diaries, with bold little drawings and
sonnet-size personal jottings, at the Archives of American Art (1285 Avenue of the Americas,
at 51st Street, through May 31)."
- HOLLAND COTTER for NYT