• A few weeks ago, my girlfriend and I went to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and watched Rottenberg’s new work entitled, Squeeze (2010). I titled part of my entry as ‘Interdependence’ because, coincidentially, I’ve been reading about interdepedence with others (and, even with inantimate objects) through a Buddhist lens and trying to incorporate that awareness within a meditative practice. Not only does Mika Rottenberg’s new work showcase the notion of interdependence, her entire body of work intermingles body image, use of the body, consumerism and labor. The women she incorporates into her film work (just to note, these women are not actresses) evoke gesture in such a way that is not only ritualistic but shows an end product in the ritualistic gestures and the women are, not only connected to each other, but to the viewer. Meticulsouly and brilliantly edited video installations create surreal manufacturing worlds for us to visually explore. In that viewing, the observer may see their connection to these women they watch. Hence, me bringing in the notion of interdependence because it is woven into her work seamlessly. She’s definitely an artist worth following. Even more noteworthy, she was a Whitney Biennele artist in 2008. I’m glad I found her sooner as opposed to later…

    You can learn more about Mika Rottenberg here

  • Although I haven’t seen Kathrine Worel’s piece, Rocking Horse Winner (2005) in some time, it’s unforgettable. In Fall 2008, I had the good fortune of spending one of the most lovely and enchanting evenings with the artist.

    Rocking Horse Winner (taxidermy horse, tack, wood and rug 6ft high, 14ft long and 3ft wide), 2005

    Worel’s assertion that the horse serves as a ‘simulacrum of memory’ is a perfect description of my experience with the work.  She provides the observer with a fondness for something they may have never experienced.  The piece itself is grand and majestic.  As you get closer, there is a growing sense of tension, an unnerving and unfolding of the past and all its imperfection.  This is captured in her deliberate attempt to keep the mottled spots of hair and apparent aged look of an already decrepid horse.  The saddle was once used by Worel when she was young. It is placed neatly on the horse as if it were waiting for a lucky rider.

    Of course, upon meeting any talented artist, it’s inevitable to ask what piqued their interest in creating a particular art work. She mentioned the short story, Rocking Horse Winner by D.H. Lawrence and I immediately went home, pulled up the story and read it. I read it twice. From my recollection, it sparked an interest in what people hold dear and how one can believe that their actions can determine an outcome. All this from a taxidermied horse? Yes, folks. Although an MFA piece, it gives me goosebumps and in the best way. One may see it as a bit abject yet a paradox of statements ensues with the viewer (like/don’t like, ugly/beautiful, strange/familiar, etc.). A mere picture won’t do it justice, this is certain. I would love to write something more extensively about Rocking Horse Winner since it is both intriguing and captures the essence of juvenile fascination with the imagination in an adult world.

    Original posting: 24 Aug 2010 / Revised: 11 March 2011

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

  • It’s been some time since Bourgeois’s passing.  As I sit here reflecting on the first time I saw her work, it’s rather difficult to imagine the contemporary art world without her.  She worked on such a grandiose scale but it couldn’t have been any other way.  With her mastery of the human body and a great command for creating organic forms, it’s as if she saw something inside the human body that had yet to be discovered and sculpted it as if she were the surgeon herself.

    There’s not much more to say other than Thank you, Ms. Bourgeois.  Thank you for your generosity, your genius and your vision.

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

  • A (recent) short paper I wrote on conceptual artist, Sophie Calle, for the course, Contemporary Art: History and Theory taken at UC Berkeley Extension (for Post-Baccalaureate Certificate in Visual Arts).

    ************************************

    There’s nothing overly theatrical about Sophie Calle’s work yet the response seems to illicit overwhelming feelings and emotions from the viewer.  From the documentation of sleepers to a man’s description of his life through the experiences of his colleagues, friends and family, Calle’s work emphasizes the absence of the artists to create portraits and capture universal ideas of contemporary life.  However, many people may beg to differ on her observations and speculation of peoples’ lives as a way to create something similar to what the paparazzi does with celebrity life.  Yet, she doesn’t glamorize and she is unapologetic in her creation of these individuals.  Strangely enough, she is mirroring back what is already there just not through the eyes of the subject.  They do that themselves.  Calle’s work, strangely, offers a therapeutic side effect as stated in an article in the UK newspaper, The Guardian:

    “Exquisite Pain (2003) was prompted by her then lover’s failure to meet her in New Delhi. On each day of her journey there, she had taken a photograph and written how she was looking forward to seeing him. This became a book, which also included other people’s worst memories – a woman who had given birth to a dead child, a boy hearing his father had died.  Their stories did have a side effect: they made my pain manageable”.

    Calle’s work serves as an example that post modern art involves the viewer within a much more voyeuristic perspective while eliminating herself from the artwork and examines the human condition, identity and intimacy.

    Throughout Calle’s work, there is a strong sense of detachment between the art and the artist.  Calle presents her work in such a way that there is a definite detachment between the art and the artist.  She depicts this best in her work entitled, The Sleepers (1979).  Detachment from the subject matter allows her work to take on the distance necessary to capture facts necessary for the viewer to form emotions and/or thoughts.  In the sciences, we see the necessity to detach the clinician from the patient, the subject to come to conclusions about disease states and reach some hypothesis that brings the researcher to some idea of standard of care.  To some degree, this is what Calle’s work tries to show the viewer.  That her experiments necessitate a distance for the observer to piece together the connections between the relationship of the artist to her subject in their minds.  To have the viewer engage in the way that Calle was unable to do so.  To show a rift of some sorts.  Weintraub states,

    Calle exposes the causes and symptoms of today’s soullessness by identifying various profes sions that serve as proxies for personal relationships.  For instance, psychologists plumb meticu lously preserving “professional distance”.  Memories, motives, passions, fears, and obsessions are ferretted out utilizing the dispassionate tools of science and cognition.  In her best-known work, Calle dramatizes how psychological research has replaced love and affection as the means to access intimate aspects of personality (Weintraub, 66).

    Aside from emotional detachment, Calle presents her observations as findings through the most minimal of aesthetics in this particular work.  It has been observed that the camera is her uncongenial tool that she uses to exploit its intrusive lens and accedes to its mechanistic anonymity.  Through it, she formalizes her role as an observer, not a friend or a lover, of her bedroom partners (Weintraub, 67).  As I viewed photographs of The Sleepers (1979), my first impression was a strange sense of intimacy even though the pictures were in black and white and followed one right after the other within columns and rows.  I wanted to know the stories of each person and to be included, somehow, in the room as well.  The minimalist look and feel of the photography provoked me to imagine the relationships Calle may have, inadvertently,  formed through this work.  Even though she separated herself and is showing and telling of the participants, the permanence created within the documentation achieves what Calle was wanting from the viewer – to show the effect of detachment and the ambivalence it creates.  The viewer is unintentionally drawn into an intimate moment that has been made public and to have the viewer create what they will.

    Detachment is crucial, Calle creates an unusual dynamic where voyeurism and scrutiny of the subject play an integral role in our desire to know what is unknown.  In the work, Suite Venitienne (1980), Calle follows a man to clandestinely capture a portrait based strictly on his daily activities in the hopes of an adventure or drama.  Classified work, espionage and intrigue pique our collective interest.  From film noir to horror films, individuals seem to seek that which thrills them and excites the senses.  Yet, it’s not common practice to follow people around to see if anything interesting comes to fruition.  Frankly, we leave this activity up to detectives or conceptual artists like Calle.  In Suite, Calle equips herself with the detective paraphernalia of a Grade-B movie and embarks on a thirteen-day escapade that mimicked a romantic melodrama but was devoid of its most essential ingredient-passion (Weintraub, 68).  Only every now and again does one stumble upon something on the street or walking through an empty corridor and serendipitously find something unique (i.e., a receipt, a movie stub, or a note) that we can fathom of a life other than our own.  That is what most of us do from childhood into adulthood.  We imagine when we’re young and as we age, we still imagine.  Yet, what we imagine is usually derived from our own neuroses and inclination to compare and contrast our lives.  Weintraub claims, “The narrative reverberates with the ache of a loveless life.  It is a reminder that the only romantic adventure in many people’s lives is contrived.  Suite Venitienne is an artistic fabrication, but it tells the true story of people whose erotic sensations depend on fantasy (Weintraub, 68).

    Although entertaining to some degree, Calle also shows that identity is dichotomous because it is both private and public.  Personal information becomes public for specification and nominal purposes.  Yet, when is it permissible to utilize an identity for the sake of creating art?  Calle oversteps the boundaries and limitations of real world situations to create art work for the masses in such a way that is not too dissimilar to what celebrity writers and inquisitors have been doing for ages.  The only difference is that Calle asks the art world to examine through a different lens, universal ideas of social constructs through self-eradication (as Weintraub titles her essay on Calle’s work).  This dual nature of identity must be seen as a voyeur and she sets this up perfectly through The Notebook Man (1983).  She takes the liberty of creating an investigative report out of a found object – an address book.

    Interviewing and photographing the individuals listed in Pierre D.’s address book, Calle gathered information about his professional, social, and personal life.  The results comprise an artwork that took the form of thirty installments published in the Paris daily newspaper between August and September 1983.  The newspaper setting escalated the power of this intrusion.  Art may be a fic tion, but newspaper reports are assumed to be factual (Weintraub, 69).

    The use of a an address book and other people’s accounts of an individual to create a portrait and summation of an individual other than the individual themselves is what Calle tries to show may actually be the truth.  Maybe, her ability to investigate the notion of a self through others is meant to show how self-reflective others perceptions may truly be.  This is prevalent in most contemporary art.  The idea that the process and the actual searching and finding of the subject is much more interesting than a final product.  In showing us the personal and intimate moments of a stranger (even herself), Calle shows something universal, our ultimate solitary existence with the compulsion to be interconnected.  Yet, with all the trappings of modern technology, her older still remains relevant in our own examination of how we place ourselves within a community, a culture and within the global landscape.  As one reads in Weintraub’s conclusion of Sophie Calle’s work,

    Today’s workplace and home life often deprive people of opportunities for human interaction.  Surveys report that social disintegration is rampant.  Community bonds are rarely established because we move frequently.  Our network of acquaintances is dominated by work, not family.  Single-person households proliferate.  Home is often a refuge from danger and not a center of congenial social exchange.  Televisions supply mealtime conversation.  Hallmark cards express our intimate communications.  The computer, bureaucracy, and the media impersonalize life.  We can dial for shrinks, sex, jokes, and horoscopes.  These are some of the causes.  Sophie Calle documents their effects (Weintraub, 70).

    Works Cited

    Weintraub, Linda.  Art on the Edge and Over: Searching for Art’s Meaning in Contemporary Society 1970s-1990s.  Litchfield, CT: Art’s Insights, Inc., Publishers, 1996.

    Wikipedia entry for Sophie Calle

    UK Guardian Article, Sophie Calle: Stalker, Stripper, Sleeper, Spy

    Reference and brief description of The Sleepers on Art We Love

  • Mierle Laderman Ukeles produces environmentally sustainable art. The emergence of words such as green andeco-friendly in our contemporary lexicon is probably due in part to Ukeles’ manifesto on maintenance art in the 1970s. Her recent lecture at the San Francisco Art Institute on May 3, 2010, included a discussion of ideas such as gesture, viewer participation, and intentionality. Ukeles’ lecture established her as not only an artist, but an archaeologist, ethnographer, and excavator of culture.

    In her talk, Ukeles drew comparisons between sanitation workers, who occupy a very male-dominated field, and homemakers, who are generally female. This comparison was the beginning of her art practice, which she coined Maintenance Art. It also served as a marker for the evolution of feminist art at large. Ukeles’ Maintenance Art forces the viewer to broaden his or her scope of perception and understanding to a universal spectrum. The artworks Ukeles highlighted during her lecture provided the viewer with an intimate look into how she approached the granular notions of “self” and “other,” extending to the greater symbiotic relationships between the two on a universal scale.

    In her work Touch Sanitation (1979-1981), she shook the hands of thousands of sanitation workers and thanked them for their service to New York City. Documenting the workers’ initial animosity, then curiosity, and eventual acceptance of her work, she showed the progression from this particular piece to other more participatory works. Ceremonial Arch Honoring Service Workers in the New Service Economy (1988) consists of an archway fashioned from a collection of gloves and steel pillars donated by New York City agencies.

    Originally published to Art Practical for Shotgun Reviews May 2010

  • The virtually untraceable art collective HUSH has done an excellent job at creating work that is fugitive and fleeting. Contemporary art increasingly entails questioning aspects of consumerism, commoditization, and the prevailing system of values over creating something for our eyes to gaze upon. HUSH’s work—a hybrid of activism and criminal activity—provokes us to see all the aforementioned within a legal construct, yet through an artistic lens. Politics and law serve as their ready-mades. They command our intellect be involved when examining their work and to react with a critical eye.

    The surreptitious nature of their art heightens its value without much effort on their part. Based on the economic model of supply and demand, HUSH’s work is priceless. Not only is it unfeasible to sell the output of what they produce, the group takes it a step further and manages to catapult any documentation of their work. It becomes irretrievable and irreproducible.

    In reminding us that art does not have to become a commodity, HUSH also calls into question the necessity for a maker. Is identification necessary? Should the public or HUSH followers know these renegade, almost vigilante, artists? I say no. The only individuals who should be privy to their identities are the collaborators themselves. This enigmatic nature makes their work all the more potent and proves a serious challenge to the art world. In some ways, their effective anonymity could herald the demise of the concept of the artist. Yet, I’m sure with their continued efforts to create incendiary work that provokes and thrusts its way into our visual landscapes, they must continue to stay apparitions.

    Paradoxically, there is safety for these artists living and working outside the boundaries of the art world. Their activities seem to show us that we are not as free as we would like to think. I’d like to imagine that this clever art collective sits and connives atop some constructed Bentham panopticon, keeping watch.

    Originally published to Art Practical for Shotgun Reviews April 2010

  • With the artist’s reception in a large Budget rental truck, accompanied by a performance piece involving libations and black lights, “Proliferations Part 2” was both provocative and engaging. Viewing the show itself meant being escorted by minivan through a security gate to a roll-up-door storage unit, which was brought down once participants had entered. Viewing works in close proximity not only invoked a strong sense of anticipation, but a participatory aspect to the actual exhibition. “Proliferations Part 2” comes from the curatorial collective OFF Space, which is composed of artist-curators Kathrine Worel, Elyse Hochstadt, and Emmanuelle Namont Kouznetsov. The exhibition included works by Alexis Arnold, Alicia Escott, Michael J. Ryan, and Erica Gagsei. The pieces exhibited were constructed from man-made objects, transformed into organic shapes and forms that were then deliberately set against a wooden backdrop.

    With their technologically based pieces, artists David Stein and Peter Foucault utilized this confined location to illustrate the dichotomous nature of excess and lack within a space. Michael Kerbow’s Meat Map simulated a pull-down wall map, thus creating a simulacra of memory based on grammar school geography classes.

    In comparison, a viewing of “Proliferations Part 1” at Rhodes & Fletcher Wealth Management offices congruently emphasized the various ways in which environment plays a role in our perception and reading of art. Although no special code was needed, “Part 1” required permission in the form of an appointment to view the works. In “Part 1,” there was a clear distinction between art and venue, whereas “Part 2” drew heavily from the environment to provide the viewer context. Artists from “Part 2” palpably incorporated the environment to have each piece function and become experiential. Although extremely different settings, both sites obligated the viewer to engage in a process of perception and valuation. This engaging was as much a part of the exhibition as the work itself, though that might not have been the original intention. Overall, it would be difficult for a viewer to ignore the environment in these exhibitions, as they are so different from the typical gallery setting we have become so accustomed to.

    Originally published to Art Practical for Shotgun Reviews March 2010

    Photos from Proliferations-Part 2

    This slideshow requires JavaScript.

  • As I stood in the middle of the gallery floor watching the real-time projection of a performance in the ‘hole’, I heard someone say, “Only in San Francisco”.   I thought to myself, “Really”?  There must be other places with similar takes on conceptual and performative art in all parts of the world but I did find the observation rather interesting in that San Francisco does seems to nurture all types of conceptual art as evidenced by the 100 Performances.

    The way in which people react to art, especially, conceptual art is a mixed bag.  It’s not the run-of-the-mill eye candy art you see when you go to a museum or a gallery.  It’s also created with various media people may be unfamiliar with or never really known.  Seriously, I thought to myself, as I stood there watching and listening, “You can use a speaker to produce sound and that’s art?”.  The quick after thought of, “Yes, folks.  That’s art”.  The sheer beauty of experimental art is that it doesn’t care if it’s disliked, liked, or loved.  It’s a way of combining all the senses to challenge the viewer.  You are not only seeing but experiencing as well.  There is a strong sense of engagement and that’s one of the rare gifts this exhibition gave its viewers.

    The fundamental commonality seems to be the reaction of the viewer.  The reaction itself is art.  An artist is an artist if there’s someone around to view the art.  Right?  I guess that’s a slippery slope because art is art is art.  Yet, conceptual art seems to rely on a viewer and, in some cases, a participant.  In any case, I found myself hankering for some experimental art and glad I got my fill at 100 Performances.  Sure hope this becomes an annual gig.  We shall see.

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

  • I’ve been promising myself that I would keep to my art writings and dedicate time to those artist heroes I’ve stored in the large unorganized art bin in my mind.  For the longest time, I’ve been out of commission for reasons not even known to me.  In any case, I digress, as always…

    One of the Filipina artists I’ve discovered over the years is Stepanie Syjuco.  Her work, seriously, had a profound effect on the way I view highly conceptual and communal based art.  Syjuco definitely has a way of injecting a healthful dose sociological and cultural issues within her work to make the viewer question the way in which one consumes and perceives ‘other’.  For the scope of this entry, I’ve chosen to focus on one of her Counterfeit Crochet Project, which started in 2006 is an ongoing endeavor.

    The characteristics and themes most prominent in her work are ideas of the Black Market and the “Hello Kitty” effect, which a term Syjuco coined whilst working on her master’s thesis in Art Practice from Stanford Univeristy.  For the most part, the consumer is sold, provided a product for consumption, for use, yet the process in which this very product is produced goes through the hands of an individual that may not have the income or even pragmatic use for it (i.e., a handbag, piece of clothing, etc.).  It’s been a wild ride of adventures of Syjuco as she teaches and exhibits across the country.  This amazing artist will definitely have you pondering the goods you purchase but also, much more importantly, contemplating your role on a much more global scale…

    Originally Posted: March 15, 2008

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

  • Opening night – Thursday, February 7, 2008

    The minute I walked into Matt Borruso’s show, Full Spectrum Aura, at the Steve Wolf Gallery, I became surprisingly nostalgic.  I was reminded of two former classmates who resembled the subjects of Magenta and Turtleneck.  At first glance, one may be struck by the vibrant and elaborate color palette as I was.  It certainly takes deftness and a breadth of experience to use shrill and arresting colors to capture flesh tones and highlights of the face (i.e., the glimmer captured in a pair of sad eyes) the way Borruso has done with his portraits.

    As I studied the relationship between colors, I was impressed with Borruso’s desire to utilize and experiment with Josef Albers’s theory on color (as he mentioned in his artist statement).  The heavily bagged eyes, the overly pouty lips that look as though they’ve been licked to avoid dryness, and the shine of an oily bulbous nose are the details that make his paintings oddly captivating.  His interpretation of portraiture provokes the viewer to take into account how one understands ideas of beauty and ugliness.  Although the colors may seem a bit garish at first glance, this is what draws you in.  The blank stare of these clear blue, sleepy eyes had me thinking past the grotesque features Burruso insists we hide or vanquish through various types of cosmetic procedures or measures.  All which we can correct is what we’ve been conditioned to accept as unsightly and unacceptable (i.e., Turtleneck girl’s 5 o’clock shadow or Young Man Fancy’s gargantuan buck teeth).  The colors serve as an unusual disguise to cover up what repulses and opposes our sense of beauty.  Yet this is exactly how Borruso’s paintings and drawings succeed.  They are remnants of our past experiences with something, someone, maybe even ourselves that we have found hideous but in some strange way, you like staring and leering at what you’re not.  Or, perhaps, there’s a bit discomfort because you may be looking at your own imperfections.  If you are anything like me, you start feeling guilty for staring and desire to stop but are unable to do so.  Burruso’s graphite drawings are just as, if not equally, engaging.  You are first attracted to the intricate rendering but within a split-second, you focus on some of the more uncommon facial characteristics of these young subjects and wonder if you should be looking at all.  No pun intended but that’s the beauty behind Burruso’s work.  In looking at more of his work via his blogspot, you will find other portrait oddities.

    You will want to check out the threads on the boy in Purple Suede Lederhosen, which serves as yet another testament to Burroso’s expertise and skill in color and use of light perfectly in all the right places.

    Originally Posted: February 08, 2008

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶

    ¶¶¶¶¶