a friend of a friend is opening a new gallery here in portland. the gallery will specialize in 20th century self-taught American artists and contemporary artists whose practices reflect an intuitive influence.
he lived in my town growing up and his daughter was in my class but i never knew anything about him until today though my parents must have mentioned he was in show business. i didnt even know she was jewish.
in todays lesson in lesser homes and gardens, we are taught that removing the gunk around the base of the toilet may impact the structural integrity of a 100 year old tenement building. at the very least it will ruin a paint job and very likely cave in a bathroom ceiling on the floor below. as it turns out, i am the floor below and not the degunker, the bruntee, not the brunter. and somehow assurances that caulking will commence any time now are not filling me with confidence that the problem will be resolved by the thoroughly amateur home improver in either great haste or satisfactorily.
i should add the thought of explaining this to the landlord in order to extract the funds for a handyman to fix the ceiling does not fill me with glee. i have already explained that this is one brunt that the brunter will have to bear. i dont know if she will shoulder that burden with any more aplomb than she will the task of filling the breach between our two worlds.
meanwhile i just lanced the boil that is my ceiling. only time will tell if it can be saved. suddenly the battle hymn of the republic makes perfect sense to me. somewhere a four part ken burns documentary is in pre-production.
Jessica Jackson Hutchins is one of few Portland artists with an international profile (She currently lives in Berlin with her partner, Pavement's Stephen Malmus). Here, Hutchins exhibits a pair of her rough-hewn, domesticity-focused assemblages as part of Fourteen30 Contemporary's 2 Weeks/2 Works series.
The gallery will host a closing reception on February 3 from 12 pm to 2 pm
Everyone talks about how globalization "McDonalds-izes" the world, but the funny thing about a place like New York is that you can get basically every kind of food *except* whatever they serve at the foreign outposts of our proud American chains.