A friend and artist in Paris, Monte Laster, suggested we attend the opening of the FRAC collection (one of the largest collections of primarily French contemporary art) at the MAC/VAL Museum on the outskirts of Paris.  What luck!

Just a few days before that I had read a short blurb on this (fairly new) contemporary spot and made a mental note to go.  That's serendipity.

Further to this serendipitous (wait! I have to go look that up - yep it's a word) moment, my good friend in Rio emailed about the MAC//VAL, saying I should definitely get out to see it. 

Serendipity on top of serendipity.

According to Dictionary.com, "serendipity" means an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.  WOW!  This is something to be pondered - how does one gain this aptitude?

I had always considered serendipity, or the experience of coincidences, as a part of life beyond my control and simply a matter of LUCK.  Everyone had moments of serendipity - few and far between - and it was a glorious and fun thing when it happend. 

Now I find out that it is an aptitude, which implies improvement with practice, and I am rethinking my mistaken view of enchantment.  In fact, starting today, I am going to practice my serendipity aptitude.  As I go to the grocery store or take the metro to a rendez-vous, I am going to make a conscious effort to find such occurrences...discover them like land mines waiting to be tripped over...  I am adopting a new relationship to serendipity.  Perhaps, if you build it, the coincidences will come and all of that...

Back to the MAC/VAL:  Monte and  I met  up at the end of the Line 7 metro at Port d'Italie.  Then we took the Tram and a bus from there...MAC/VAl is not exactly in the center of town. 

The MAC/VAL is sleek, contempy and very large.  It hosts a huge permanent collection, temporary exhibitions, residencies, book store, restaurant, educational events, cinema...an outdoor expanse with sculpture and fountains..  It was built by Jacques Ripault and opened in November 2005.

I looked it up and found this article by SHIFT : 

In Japan you may imagine a quiet residential area when you hear the word "suburb." But in France, the suburban areas are where low-income groups and immigrants move to avoid high rent in the urban districts. And lately, it has been hard to keep the peace in the suburbs outside of Paris.

The museum, which was built by Jacques Ripault, opened in November 2005 in the suburban city of Vitry. After 20 years of deliberation, the prefectural assembly chose Vitry because the location is symbolic of its cultural policy to promote contemporary arts (see more)...

.The FRAC exhibit is presenting almost all of the collection - to be set up in stages.  The large warehouse-like room in which the work is being shown has racks at the back end filled with crates and boxes of work that is "to be shown" later.  It is a progressive exhibit, sort of like those progressive meals where you go from one house to the next for each course.  "High concept" one person said to me.  Naturally, I wanted to pull out my exacto knife and go tackle the boxes of yet-to-be's. 

Overall, the opening was like any other - milling, chatting, sipping, wondering who that man in the green shirt was...  There was a nice array of drinks, and I especially enjoyed the Badoit extra fizzy water in the brilliant red bottle.  There were little cups in which one could take a handful of peanuts or pretzels.  Very accomodating.  One could smoke outside in the sculpture garden, and you had to show your ticket to get back in to the opening.  We got chased out of the exhibition salon for taking our drinks inside, the usual, and I couldn't tell which pieces I could touch and got in trouble for that too.  The wonderful part of not speaking the language is that I can feign ignorance for everything....

While there I noted down my own  set of rules for art openings that go like this:  Don't touch; don't spill; don't expect to feel comfortable; don't stay long; don't stop moving (it won't be abvious that you don't know anyone); don't walk too quickly as you might crash into some art; and, if you really want to see the work, it's better to go early in the day when no one else is around. 

Looking at art takes some focus and some aptitude.

Just like serendipities.

- Georgia

(All images courtesy of ArtSlant)

 

on the go  with Thomas Regan

Thomas Regan lives between Maryland, USA and Paris, France.  He is an avid traveler and photographer.  His photo essays include many fascinating and beautiful images from great art spots of the world.  Tom is truly a man on the go...

(Image above: Tom Regan (middle) with friends, George & Dean, relaxing in West Hollywood, CA)

MUSEUM OF MODERN ART, LUXEMBOURG

The following images were taken by Regan on a trip to the Museum of Modern Art in Luxembourg (MUDAM). 

Fondation Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean
10, avenue Guillaume
L-1650 Luxembourg
Tel:     +352 45 37 85-33    
Fax: +352 45 37 85-30
www.mudam.lu

Luxembourg's new Museum of Modern Art has opened its doors to the public for the first time on July 1, 2006

The "Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean" -to quote its full name- has been designed by the famous sino-american architect I.M.Pei.

Built at a cost of 90 million euros and offering 6000 sq. metres of exhibition space, the new museum is without doubt one of the country's most ambitious architectural and cultural projects to date. The museum will progressively unveil its collection of more then 230 works by more than 100 artists of international renown, while presenting themed exhibitions open to all domains of contemporary creation: photography, painting, multimedia, fashion, design and graphic arts.

(All images courtesy of Thomas Regan.)

Have you ever found yourself caught between two choices?

The photo sort of says it all - don't you think? 

Things can get twisted in those moments.  Should I or shouldn't I? Go or stay?  This one or that one? 

Indecision can be so painful, especially when it goes on for a long time.  I have definitely had my troubles with indecision.   

In exploring my inability to make decisions, I found out that it was my basic outlook that was getting in the way.  I simply put too much stock in the result of the decision.  Rather than focusing on the act of deciding, I hemmed and hawed over the potential results.  This naturally involved quite a bit of mind reading and fortune telling. 

Finally, after years of being hopelessly indecisive, I found out that you Just Decide.  Poof.

Before I came to this new-found ability, I had often thought there should be decision-making classes like 3-hour workshops, or maybe a weekend retreat, in which you practice being a decider. 

It could start each morning with a series of rapid decisions - put the pressure on to force the novice into the waters:  Banana or orange? Coffee or Tea?  Shirt or sweater? High heels or flats?  Then it could move into a mid-morning workshop - say Favorites:  Favorite color, movie, song, book.  Fast-paced, blurt it out kind of decision making...then maybe move into more important areas like large-goods purchasing or pet adoption...

Hey this is beginning to sound like LIFE. 

In fact, as I write this I am coming to the realization that life is one, long, decision-making workshop.  And now that I consider this further, I am beginning to get a little freaked out by the sheer volume of decisions one has to make every single day simply to get by...No wonder I felt inadequate.

WHAT ABOUT ARTSLANT?

So where was I and how does this relate to ArtSlant?  Oh Yes - the photo.  That's where this all started. 

I found these pictures in my file of photos from Art Basel 2007.  I didn't go this year and was feeling a little left out.    While looking through them I thought of how many interesting photos people must take as they are travelling on art-related matters.  People really can take some nice photos. 

I decided (in one of those rapid-paced moments of decision-making supremacy) that I wanted to have a summer showcase on ArtSlant of art adventure photos.

IT WILL BE CALLED ART ABROAD

I am starting it off with the above photos from Art Basel - they really aren't much, but I like them.  And, more than that, I like the concept of "abroad" because it is a non-distance - it could be right next door to someone who lives in Iceland.  One's starting point is the determinant.

So, that's the decision du jour.  We are looking for submissions for Art Abroad - send your choicest pics from your art travels.   And that means deciding which one to send...now that can get complicated.

- georgia

Robert Rauschenberg, American Artist, Dies at 82, Michael Kimmelman, New York Times, May 08

Memories of Rauschenberg: 'A giant among artists, Diane Hathman, Los Angeles Times May 08

Pop artist Robert Rauschenberg dies in Fla. at 82, Mitch Stacy, SF Gate, May 08

Hetero-normalizing Robert Rauschenberg, Tyler Green, Modern Art Notes, May 08

...But Will His Market Hold Up?, Daniel Grant, The Wall Street Journal May 2008

Robert Rauschenberg: Obituary, Ed Schad, I call it ORANGES

Robert Rauschenberg Has Died, Will, on NY Turf, May 08

Robert Rauschenberg: Man at Work, Ovation TV, You Tube

Robert Rauschenberg - Erased De Kooning, You Tube

(Images: Robert Rauschenberg, Retroactive I, 1964, oil and silkscreen ink on canvas, 84x60 in, Wadsworth Athenuem, Hartford, Connecticut; Erased de Kooning Drawing, 1953, traces of ink and crayon on paper, 25.25x21.75x0.5 in, Retroactive I, 1964, oil and silkscreen ink on canvas, 84x60 in; SF MOMA @ Robert Rauschenberg/Licensed by VAGA, NY)

San Francisco was called the Queen City of the West, and the Palace Hotel near Union Square was called the Palace of the West. 

I sat in the Garden Court at the Palace Hotel.  When it opened in 1875, it was the carriage entrance and thousands flocked to see it.  And the crowd came to see the hydraulic elevators which were called "rising rooms."  This hotel has history.

I was entranced by the glass ceiling and the sheer elegance of that giant palm-filled room, sharing thoughts and musings on the San Francisco art scene with a number of people.  The evening before several family members and I had been in the Pied Piper Bar talking about the history of this hotel, studying Maxfield Parrish's mural, The Pied Piper of Hamelin, hanging prominently behind the bar.  It all seemed wildly romantic, without the Sturm and Earthquake...

Maxfield Parrish (1877-1966).  He was big in the late 60's when the rock culture took up the illustrative genre for the posters announcing the Filmore or Avalon. 

And of course when he was alive he was a household must - everyone had their Parrish print hanging somewhere in their home. They (whoever that is) named a color "Parrish blue," a luminous neon kind of blue.  Above all Parris was a colorist achieving his luminous surfaces by means of glazing - layerings of oil and varnish. 

In Art in America (March 1996), Ken Johnson said of him "Kitsch meets the sublime - illustrator Maxfield Parrish."

 

One of the quotes from Parrish is:

  "I'm done with girls on rocks!..."  

After painting them for thirteen years, he quit.  I wonder if there was a detox involved.  Imagine how many girls, how many rocks.

The Golden Age of Illustration, of which Parrish was a prominent force, continues today.  Look at deviantART.  Sure, we've gone from the bright side of the moon to the dark side of the moon.  The girls are more than likely emaciated and world-weary rather than aglow with virginal purity.  But it's 100 years later and a long walk through the woods.

And what's this got to do with ArtSlant? 

Nothing really.  It was just that the Joshua Petker interview was published in the San Francisco slant yesterday and he mentions Parrish in his interview.  I was reflecting on how post-romanticism seems to vie with post-modernism in capturing our attentions, and wanting to think about that a little more.  I don't really even like Maxfield but that's not to say thinking about him hasn't been satisfying. 

Then I was reminded of that weekend at the Palace Hotel last November sitting in the Garden Court when the weather was crystal, the bridge was gleaming, and I was running around the Queen of the West interviewing writers for ArtSlant...and it seemed, well, wildly romantic.

As I was writing this I read the legend of the pied piper (Robert Browning's take) which is about a man with a magical pipe who, after saving the town of Hamelin, Germany from rats, was betrayed by the townsmen and not paid for his services.  In revenge the pied piper lured all but two of the village's children with his magical pipe into a cave never to be seen again...now that's Sturm and Dragnet.  Guess Parris had his dark moons as well.

-georgia

Statistics can get under your skin.  If you had asked me a while ago "Do you like statistics?" I would have responded with an emphatic "No."  How wrong I would have been.

ArtSlant.com is a stat-machine.  We are continuously gathering, cataloguing, cross-referencing and cross-polinating statistical information on the art world.  In fact, we are in the midst of making this architecture much more accessible on the ArtSlant site - take note of our newly designed Profile, Venue and Exhibition pages.  These now pull in all kinds of stat-tidbits.  It's a who-did-what-with-whom without the gossip.

So to celebrate our first-year anniversary (which just zipped by almost without our having noticed it) we've developed a few interesting little charts to share with the community.  It's a kind of stat-extravaganza.

We hope you enjoy this bird's eye view, and remember we're always Counting on Art...

- georgia

 

These stats cover the following timeframe:

Los Angeles:  February 8, 2007 - December 31, 2007

New York:  April 1, 2007 - December 31, 2007

Venues by Type	Los Angeles	New York
Gallery	277	388
Museum	36	17
Alternative	85	69
TOTAL	582	474

Exhibitions by Venue Type	Los Angeles	New York
Gallery	2174	2204
Museum	313	132
Alternative	124	317
TOTAL	2611	2653

Events Types Other Than Exhibitions	Los Angeles	New York
Artist Talk	56	39
Closing	30	6
Lecture	94	67
Opening	1841	1513
Performance	193	58
Reading	9	11
Screening	104	47
Tour	29	26
Workshop	21	10
Other Event	124	50
TOTAL	2501	1827

Profiles by Type	Number
Artist	8397
Curator	900
Arts Professional	57
Writer	47
Arts Org	189
Art Lover	10
TOTAL	9600

 

 

 

 

It poured Thursday for the gala opening of ART LA, the New Los Angeles International Contemporary Art Fair at the Civic Auditorium in Santa Monica (that’s a mouth full…).  Truly a downpour.  So it was puddle jumping in high heels and running for cover from the torrent that marked the start of the fair.

 

ART LA has been slow to peak; in fact, the Los Angeles art community has been pushing it up the mountain for a while.  And yet – by all accounts – this year is a breakthrough.  Light can be seen and kudos should go to Director, Tim Fleming, this year’s advisory committee, the Hammer, and lots of others as well as…

 

Last evening, Friday night, was the Chinatown float.  Parties and openings and performances and red paper lanterns holding sway.  A night of art buzz and art looking.  Despite the broil of the campaigners, and the roil of the market, the art crowd was out in the crisp night – seeing and seen.

 

- georgia

---

At The Happy Lion, the dark fantasies of Christof Mascher caught a lot of attention.  Coming from Hannover, Germany, this is Mascher's first show in the US.  From his exquisite small drawings to the large fantastical night scapes of mountains and mayhem, Mascher brings a Wagnerian touch to the Chinatown scene (with Tristan und Isolde and The Ring coming to LA's opera, Wagner seems to be setting the tone for at least part of our cultural experience.)

 

A few doors down at Peres Projects, Amie Dicke's installation, "Infinitely suffering thing," had a big crowd.  Where Mascher's work suggests, Dicke's forces.  I found myself wanting to turn away from the pig's legs and bagged woman but the impulse was overidden by the force of Dicke's imagery.  Tthe empty chair with the trailing sugar cubes and the just-stepped-out-of black heels was with me this morning - haunting. 

I moved with the crowd down the alley to Chung King Project.  François Ghebaly's new space is corner-perfect,  and the Dan Bayles work that has been on view since December 1 has been well recevied.

Across the way at Mary Goldman Gallery, I ran into Amir Fallah, whose camo-fort of Love and Prickly Tenderness, radiates against the back wall of the gallery.  Welcome to the love healing center  - we can all use a little of that.

And speaking of love, I experienced a strange mechanical kind of love (or at least a groping towards connection) with Meridith Pingree's sculptures at Fringe Exhibitions.  Comprised of many motion sensors, these objects clumsily but delicately shift and reform in reaction to motion around them.  A subtle kind of "you move me..."

 

From there, I wandered to Fifth Floor (a new gallery-boutique next to Fringe that was swamped on its first night ever...good luck to Robert!)  Then I stopped in at Bonelli Contemporary, which has taken up new digs on Hill, took the tour of the Urquhart show at Jack Hanley, and gazed in at Mountain Bar.  Last stop was David Salow Gallery, where I got this lovely pic of David's gallery glowing in the Chinatown float.

(Photos from top to bottom: The Happy Lion gallery through the windows; François Ghebaly in his office at Chung King Project; Amir Fallah at Mary GoldmanGallery; Meridith Pingree at Fringe Exhibitions; David Salow Gallery.)

 

A good café is a dream factory.  I've found café dreams often come true.

 

It was two years ago at exactly this time.  Art Basel Miami was cranking up the bass beat and I was in Verona on a cold sunny morning with that clear sharp light of late fall covering everything and my hands wrapped around a hot cappuccino.  Veneto-style with foam that never dies.

 

The ArtSlant team had been at an Italian spa in the Dolomites regrouping after a hectic summer.  Taking the seaweed treatments, so to speak.  Actually it was more of a once-in-a-lifetime extravaganza than a necessary experience.  Yoga in Italian – now that’s relaxing.

 

Having been without caffeine for a week, we raced down the mountains to Verona and landed in front of Borsalino to remedy the pounding headaches.  The piazza was filled with the murmurs of morning musings and we spent the next few hours dreaming about the ArtSlant website and re-acquainting with the jolt of a good Italian roast.  (Of course, at that time the ArtSlant name was still unknown).

 

Here it is two years later and the Miami is up again – how many fairs?  24? Something like that.  That clear sharp light of late fall is covering everything in Los Angeles and ArtSlant is a reality, a thriving reality. 

 

We're covering Los Angeles and New York, getting ready to open San Francisco and Chicago, and having lots more dreams in lots more cafes.  The ArtSlant community of artists and art professionals grows everyday and our writing teams keep the words flowing.  All in all, Mr. Toad, a glorious ride.

 

I spent yesterday dropping into a few shows.  Everything was so  nice and quiet.  Kristin Dickson, ArtSlant's director in LA, came with.

 

We saw the beautiful new Honor Fraser space on La Cienega and toured the Gardar Eide Einarsson exhibit.  We had a fun-filled visit with Kim Light before she left for Miami, and stopped by Cardwell Jimmerson and Susanne Vielmetter.  And for a perfect end, we watched Slater Bradley singing in the rain at Blum and Poe while the sun held forth outside.  It was all wrapped up with a strong café con leche, Cuban-style with a bass beat that just won't quit.  (photo: Slater Bradley, installation view, courtesy the artist and Blum & Poe, Los Angeles; @ Joshua White)

 

Tip for the Week:  Using Your Blog

 

For those of us who decided not to do the Miami, we need those blog reports to make us feel a part of!  Isn’t the world a better place with all the bloggers typing away?

 

If you haven’t done so already, take advantage of your personal blog attached to your ArtSlant Profile.  Simply go into Edit and enter your blog title in the required field down at the bottom of the ad form.  A Blog Title distinguishes you and makes your blog public on ArtSlant.

 

Then go into Add a Blog Article in your Profile Actions Box and start blogging.  Please be sure to leave the date in the date box.  Apparently, there could problems if you remove the date.  Blogs are time-based.

 

Thanks for all the good art you bring to us!

 

- georgia

What’s better than a heated argument over a piece of art! 

 

It’s passionate, it’s challenging but no one’s going hungry, well except perhaps the artist.

 

When was the first art argument?  The very first time someone said: “That’s not art!”  And someone else said “It is so!”   Was it in the cave?

 

I was just party to one of these exchanges. 

 

I was back in London last week to visit with friends and we went to the Tate Modern to see the Doris Salcedo installation entitled Shibboleth.  I had already been but wanted to see it again.  Salcedo’s installation is a huge crack that runs through the Tate’s Turbine Hall (the ground floor.) 

 

While we walked along the length of the piece, one of the people in my group relayed a short tale of a couple who had come to the exhibition and were very upset with it.  They had made sarcastic and condescending jokes about the technical qualities of the piece and the absurdity of the concept.  “That’s not art!” might have actually been uttered.  Clearly, Salcedo’s crack had elicited some strong reactions.

 

“But why do people get so offended?” asked one of us as we looked at the crack.  That’s when I started thinking about art and its capacity to elicit these strong divisions – the art argument.

 

I’ve had and seen a bunch of these art arguments - at parties or dinners or right in the middle of a gallery.  People arguing about art.

 

These arguments seem to center around three areas: meaning, value, technique.  Either the art is too hard to understand and that infuriates people.  Or its value seems outrageous in comparison with the function.  Or my 5-year old/my monkey could have made it.  All of these conditions can make people mad as hell.

 

And when you get down to site-specific installation, like Salcedo’s piece, where the “art” is not only challenging conceptually but it is transient as well, then watch out.

 

Our conversation veered from people’s fears of not being in the know, to the ways in which taste and class intersect, to, as Craig Owens suggests in his article “The Allegorical Impulse: Towards a Theory of Postmodernism,” the memento mori (remember you will die) quality of site-specific installation.

 

Throughout, we talked about the meaning of Shibboleth – an “in-crowd” figure of speech or cultural practice that serves to distinguish one group of people from those outside the group.  It’s a secret code handshake, or an open-sesame that puts me in or out.  Talking about the sorts of lines that divide us becomes a very big discussion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then we stopped and realized what was happening around us.  Everywhere people were engaging with this piece – playing with it in creative and fanciful ways.  Here’s a few of the things I saw:

 

People skipping across the crack

People kissing over the crack

People crawling over the crack

People sticking their hand, foot, arm.. into the crack

People sticking their cell phone into the crack

People bending and peering into the crack

People photographing the crack

People walking along the crack

People jumping over the crack

People sitting beside the crack

People laughing at the crack

People talking about the crack

And yes, people making cracks about the crack.

 

All of this in just a few minutes.  Now that’s art!

 

- georgia

 

 

It’s good to dream about art.  It feels like something special happened. 

 

I am constantly in search of that feeling.  That something special feeling.  Once you’ve had it, it’s hard to go back to just getting by. 

 

It’s Thursday morning and I am feeling that way right now.  I’m back in Paris, it feels special, and yes I did dream about art (well a bunch of paintings actually) a few nights ago.  It is probably because I have seen so much art lately.

 

I spent last Sunday at FIAC 2007 at the Grand Palais in Paris.  It’s the big French art fair in the big, glass-roofed palace.  The Grand Palais was built for a World Expo in 1900, and according to Wikipedia there is a whole Police force housed downstairs to watch over the art.

 

Leaving the Jardin des Plantes (where Catherine and I were staying), you can take the 63 bus down the left side of the Seine,  get off at Invalides, and walk across the Pont Alexandre III bridge.  It’s a great trip.

 

The weather was autumnal, or as my friend Alison says, authentic.  Shiny bright and crispy cold.  The crowds were swarming, literally, and everyone was in a good mood.  At least everyone I could see.  Perhaps there were stressed-out gallerists around but I didn’t see them. 

 

(I forgot my camera so could only take snaps with my Razr.)

 

While wandering through the Grand Palais, trying to pull my gaze off the ceiling and back to the art at hand, I found myself thinking about how great I felt.  It’s these art fairs.  I’ve been to a few lately. 

 

I know they are considered crass displays of commercialism – in fact, you almost expect a barker to pop out of a gallery booth and yell “Get your Rothko’s right here.”   I’d like to shout: “I’ll take 5!  And could you have them delivered?”

 

And I know there is this notion that Art is supposed to be somehow free from the sales pitch (although a few carefully crafted anecdotes go nicely).  (photo: Afga Rose by Michael Blazy at Art:Concept) 

 

But still… despite all of that, I realized there in the middle of the Grand Palais that I like being in a large crowd of people who love art.  There is some sort of ecstatic communion that takes place as we all sigh over this painting, or take photos of that sculpture, or huddle around a darkened cubicle to watch the latest in high video.  And when you notice that the man with the white sign outside is really a performance artist, or that the noises you are hearing are coming from a sound installation and not some car backfiring, there is this sense of being IN – capitalized.

 

I guess some people get this experience with sports teams (and Paris has been awash with rugby enthusiasts walking around in white and red costumes.)  Or they get it from other things like hot rod clubs or religious stuff or square dancing.  I get it from art.  Especially when it is in another language, like French for instance. 

 

So at Fiac I was yelling go-team-go deep inside of me.

 

And the question of what sticks?  Here are the things I most remember from my visit:

 

1.  The sound created by a huge sculptural machine by Jean Tinguely (Untitled, 1986, at Hans Meyer Gallery).  It was made of wood and all sorts of things turned and rotated.  Creaks and moans and pops and shudders emanated from the piece.  Listening to it, I felt like I was on some Spanish galleon bound for the New World.  I can still hear it.

 

2.  The elfin sculptures of Kiki Smith.  Small, white women, part fish or sprite of some kind, almost real but deep down magical.

 

3.  Photos of water by Roni Horn, from the series, From Some Thames (Hauser & Wirth).  Absolutely exquisite.  Greens and dark blues with bands of waves moving underneath the surface.  Actually I was reading The Waves by Virginia Woolf, and it begins with this beautiful passage of the morning rising over the ocean.  These photos brought that back.

 

4.  Fiona Rae’s painting, Don’t Let the Sky Fall Down, 2007 at Galerie Nathalie Obadia.  While I was staring at it, trying to memorize every curl and teddy bear, I was vaguely aware of a conversation between the gallery owner (?) and a prospective buyer.  I so wanted to be him.

 

5.  Christo’s sculpture, Packed Supermarket Cart, 1963, at Annely Juda.  How many pictures have I seen of this?  I don’t even know if this was the one I’ve seen so many times – did he make more than one of these wrapped shopping carts?  But I will say that this one was small and endearing.  The cart was so little, the wrapping so clumsy, the whole thing was nostalgic.  And for an interesting read, check out the Common Errors section of Christo and Jean-Claude’s website.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then there was the frightening piece by Ed Kienholz,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 and the Julian Opie's again and again at Lisson Gallery.

 

- georgia