Some Stuff in Chelsea
Okay, first thing I saw was Phil Collins-- supposedly not that Phil Collins-- at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery. He made a video of "disaffected" Turkish youths singing karaoke versions of Smiths songs.
Now, I can barely listen to the Smiths sing Smiths songs for more than 5 seconds without screaming, so I'm not really sure why anyone would think getting some young Turks to sing them would be any better. And they didn't look all that disaffected to me! They seemed pretty well put together, well dressed, if maybe a bit faggy.
Next up was Tracey Moffatt at Steven Kasher Gallery. She's Australian. Her show has some photographs, and then there was a video with clips of old Hollywood movies, people slapping each other and stuff. Oh, and there were cucumber sandwiches. Don't know if this was actually part of the exhibition or not, but some woman kept walking around with a three-tiered tray with chocolates and sandwiches. I really appreciated that because I hadn't eaten anything all day. I don't quite see how splicing up old movies and handing out snacks is art, but then again, I am not an expert.
Now I'm going to shock you-- believe me, I shocked myself. The Outsider art critic liked the Matthew Barney show at Barbara Gladstone. It could just be that I like cooking with lard, and there looked to be a lot of that all over the gallery. I hope their air conditioner doesn't break. I don't know how they'll describe this stuff in the fancypants publications like Artforum and the like, but here's how I see it:
There was a really nice relationship between pure, defined plastic forms and globby, chunky, messes. And everything's this translucent white color. So you've got hard plastics and fatty mush, and you just want to put your cheek to the cool, clean surfaces and jump in and grab a handful of the thick, buttery ones. At least I did. But this is Art, so you're not allowed to do that.
Okay, now I'm not an expert, but if I were Rachel Whiteread, I'd be looking for a thank-you note in my mailbox right about now.
It's mmm-mmm good!
Now, I can barely listen to the Smiths sing Smiths songs for more than 5 seconds without screaming, so I'm not really sure why anyone would think getting some young Turks to sing them would be any better. And they didn't look all that disaffected to me! They seemed pretty well put together, well dressed, if maybe a bit faggy.
Next up was Tracey Moffatt at Steven Kasher Gallery. She's Australian. Her show has some photographs, and then there was a video with clips of old Hollywood movies, people slapping each other and stuff. Oh, and there were cucumber sandwiches. Don't know if this was actually part of the exhibition or not, but some woman kept walking around with a three-tiered tray with chocolates and sandwiches. I really appreciated that because I hadn't eaten anything all day. I don't quite see how splicing up old movies and handing out snacks is art, but then again, I am not an expert.Now I'm going to shock you-- believe me, I shocked myself. The Outsider art critic liked the Matthew Barney show at Barbara Gladstone. It could just be that I like cooking with lard, and there looked to be a lot of that all over the gallery. I hope their air conditioner doesn't break. I don't know how they'll describe this stuff in the fancypants publications like Artforum and the like, but here's how I see it:
There was a really nice relationship between pure, defined plastic forms and globby, chunky, messes. And everything's this translucent white color. So you've got hard plastics and fatty mush, and you just want to put your cheek to the cool, clean surfaces and jump in and grab a handful of the thick, buttery ones. At least I did. But this is Art, so you're not allowed to do that.
Okay, now I'm not an expert, but if I were Rachel Whiteread, I'd be looking for a thank-you note in my mailbox right about now.
It's mmm-mmm good!
posted by Editor at 4/12/2006
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