Mr. Holz inside his hotel room in City-A

Have you ever sat in a theater watching a film and wished it would go on forever? Eve Sussman and the Rufus Corporation have made a film which can do just that. "whiteonwhite:algorithmicnoir" is installed inside a Chelsea gallery, complete with several rows of theater-style seats, for just one more week. While the hours at Cristin Tierney are finite (10 am - 6 pm), the film can theoretically run forever, never repeating itself and never coming to an end.

Ideally it should be installed in a space accessible 24 hours a day, and it should be there permanently. But even in its current arrangement it was one of the most beautiful, spellbinding films I've ever seen, and I was there for less than an hour. As I could never expect to actually move in with it, just knowing that it was essentially "open" at either end of my own experience of it may be enough.

I still want to go back.

It's a gorgeous, ustopian-noir algorithmically-shuffled continuously-evolving work, with a stunning soundtrack equal to the its astonishing images.

Mr. Holz in Yuri's office

[images are stills, large details, captured from the installation]

I had wanted to do my own text for this reminder of the benefit for Issue Project Room being held in the West Village this Saturday, Octobber 1, but I think Barry has already said it all. We're both committed to this art and performance center - its a great program - and very excited about this event.

The only thing I'd like to add is to make it clear that the event is being held, not in either the group's temporary or future homes, but in the West Village, at Industria Superstudio, 775 Washington Street (between W 12th St and Jane).

This is Barry's announcement, except for edits switching my name to his (we're really not always so interchangeable):

Most people expect Barry and me to only be interested in the visual arts for some reason, but we're also fanatics about any "new" art, be it music, theater, dance, etc. Since 2003, one of the places to hear and see new things, especially multi-disciplinary work (why isn't there more of that?) has been Issue Project Room, founded by artist Suzanne Fiol.

They are now raising money to make capital improvements to their new home in an amazing space at 110 Livingston. Their benefit this weekend (Saturday, October 1, 2011) includes a special performances by Steve Roden and A^ction: Kim Gordon, Tony Conrad, and John Miller, plus an amazing art auction. Artists include: Peggy Ahwesh, Jo Andres, Paolo Arao, Kenseth Armstead, Assume Vivid Astro Focus, Donald Baechler, Paul Chan, Tony Conrad, Ethan Cook, Wayne Coyne, Peggy Cyphers, E.V. Day, Devon Dikeou, Daniella Dooling, Shawn Dulaney, Devin Elijah, Rochelle Feinstein, Suzanne Fiol, Neal Franc, Isa Freeling, Michelle Handelman, Joseph Holmes, Mi Ju, Art Kane, Robin Khan, Todd Knopke, Jutta Koether, Lauren Luloff, Christian Marclay, John Miller, Paul Miller (DJ Spooky), Stephen Moore, Ulrike Muller, James Nares, Yoko Ono, Tony Oursler, Carissa Pelleteri, Tristan Perich, Barbara Pollack, Lee Ranaldo, Brett Reichman, Steve Roden, Julia Rommel, Kevin Ryan, Cindy Sherman, James Siena, Gary Simmons, Jude Tallichet, Mickalene Thomas, Stephen Vitiello, Andy Warhol, Martynka Wawrzyniak, John Waters, Alyssa Taylor Wendt, Robert Wilson and Marina Zurkow.

Barry and I will be there, and hope you will join us in supporting this important organization. Tickets are only $125, or $50 if you are already a member. You can also bid online for the silent auction artworks. However, if you don't attend you will miss the performance and Ned Sublette as the live auctioneer!

the sculptures terrassed

Okay, I love Ai Weiwei, and all his creatures, perhaps more than anyone I know, but I'm going to be a little grumpy here. I left the apartment early today, much earlier than I am want to (or ever want to) in order to be a part of the unveiling of "Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads," the artist's installation at the Pulitzer Fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel. I'm an incorrigible activist, and I think of Ai as an activist as much as as an artist. I thought I would be joining a crowd of fellow enthusiasts dedicated to the artist and to what he has come to stand for all over the world (even before he was "disappeared," which is now more than a month ago).

I didn't expect a huge throng, and since it was raining, I told myself I wasn't going to be too disappointed if the numbers were modest. But I didn't expect to be disappointed, as I very much was, both by the installation and by the event. When I arrived I saw that the subject of numbers had become irrelevant; I was able to enter the establishment precinct surrounded by steel barricades only by identifying myself as a member of the press. I didn't know I would otherwise have had to have an invitation.

Zodiac Heads and talking heads

It was described several times during the ceremony as Ai Weiwei's first public art installation, but the public was not permitted to be a part of the event (apparently only "dignitaries" and the press were allowed in).

The occasion was supposed to be a celebration of a youthful, bold and courageous artist, but there were only suits and a few older pros in the temporary shelter with the Mayor (twelve of them had been asked to recite short excerpts from Ai's writings).

The work means nothing outside of its conceptual element, but there was no mention of that. The public talk was only about its eye-appeal and importance, whatever that may have actually meant to the speakers during the ceremony and in the Q&A after.

The title of the piece is "Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads," but oddly there was no circle.

The artist was absent from the event, hosted by the city which he loved and which we shared with him for over ten years, only because of his magnificent activism, but there was no room today for activism, aside from that of Susan Henoch, who was holding two hand-written signs ("where is weiwei!" and "free weiwei") just outside the police barricades.

the demonstration, outside the barricades

Ai Weiwei's work was there, but the artist was not. Of course this was not the fault of the organizers or of the well-meaning folks who took part in the event, but I missed any sense of loss, or urgency, in the conventional procedures to which we were witness. It felt like a ribbon-cutting ceremony on some dull, secure site not accessible to ordinary people. It wasn't only uninspiring; it was lifeless.

Actually, maybe Ai Weiwei's work wasn't really there. I know I didn't feel it. For an event intended to celebrate an artist and his art, maybe the most damning verdict I could hand over was, for me, the surprising absence of art in the scene on Grand Army Plaza today, and only part of that was the fault of the gracelessness in the placement of the 12 zodiac heads*. I have to believe Weiwei would have had it all very much otherwise.

*
They are supposed to be installed in a circle, and ideally, I think, around a fountain, but their arrangement here, in an arc stepping up and across the lower terraces of the Pulitzer Fountain, seemed a bit like my childhood memories of church, when the florist would arrange huge flower baskets in front of the altar on the occasion of some important wedding (or funeral).

just like those in the Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc Cave, maybe these walls belong to the ages (detail of 1998 mural done by Chris Benfield to which other artists later made additions - customary practice in the ABC No Rio space - but those elements are not shown here)

Barry and I are going to be at the ABC No Rio benefit on May 3rd at Allegra LaViola on the Lower East Side. We're both really looking forward to it, for the interesting company, the beer and the food, a great silent art auction, and guest DJs including Anna Kustera, Doug McClemont, and Kembra Pfahler.

But the occasion is also about the opportunity to help out, in at least a very modest way, one of the most interesting arts institutions in the city, an activist (and tenatious) DIY art, performance and community space on the Lower East Side (156 Rivington Street), a "collective of collectives," with an awesome past, a dynamic present, and an exciting future.

The current building is a monument, but it's pretty distressed structurally, and in a serious state of disrepair. Restoration would cost nearly as much as a creative new design offering more space and significantly-enhanced facilities, and it could be constructed on sustainable design principles. The decision was made: Start from scratch.

While I love a snappy new building as much as the next guy, it's going to be tough watching the old ABC No Rio go down. I think there will be an effort to salvage some of the bold murals created - in layers - over the last three decades: The image at the top of this post is just one of a number I captured last month on a tour of the old tenement on Rivington Street.

The institution is now well on its way toward realizing a handsome new Green home, designed by Paul Castrucci, to be built on the same site. Anyone can help it along by attending the party next Tuesday, or if unable to do so, by making a donation of any size.

Full disclosure: Barry and I are on the benefit committee. Details here. Tickets start at $50.

real sunflower seeds waiting for fertile soil

There are all kinds of artists, millions of ways to create art, and all of them must be respected, but Ai Weiwei is The Compleat Artist, as much as anyone else now on earth, particularly because he is a social activist as well. I call him a saint.

I really haven't been able to completely stop thinking about this man since I first became aware of his art. I was almost immediately astonished by the signs of his courage and the size of his heart, and my admiration for the artist and the man has only grown with each report of his comings and goings. Six days ago the reports stopped. We know that the artist has been "disappeared," and that the man has been silenced, but ironically the frightened regime responsible has ensured by its cruelty and stupidity that an important part of the artist-activist's work continues, and his voice might actually now be louder than ever, thanks to his friends, millions of admiring strangers everywhere, and the power of the modern connectivity on which he doted - and thrived.

I cannot imagine a China, indeed a modern world, without his presence, his conscience and his art. If we deserve the art we get, the government we get, we will have to do everything in our power to see Ai Weiwei return to the people of China, and the world.

[image by An Xiao from anxiaostudio flickr]

show sidewalk shingle

I wanted to get this post published before it was too late to send anyone to see this wonderful short-run (only ten-days) group show of sculpture in Williamsburg. Barry and I stopped in at Vaudeville Park last Sunday to see "Anomalistic Urge." intrigued by the siren of a new space and a new curator. Some of the artists were very familiar to us; some of them were not (although maybe we should be embarrassed to admit that).

Courtney Tramposh, whose work we had not encountered before, gathered together gorgeous and exciting pieces by some 30 sculptors for this show. Tramposh is a sculptor herself and for this show she created the room environment as well as the unconventional but aesthetically sympathetic platforms on which the works are displayed. She describes the installation as "a tabletop sculpture show." For a large group sculpture show, it's contained within a fairly small space, but it all works. "Anomalistic Urge" is her first outing as a curator, and it's a doozy.

Courtney was anxious to point out all of the other artists's work, but never mentioned she had a piece of her own in the show. I thought we had already stayed past closing time, so unfortunately we didn't quite see everything, and I didn't snap an image of her own work (outside of its supporting roles).

The complete list of artists includes Justin Adian, Michael Berryhill, Shawn Bluechel, Strauss Borque-LaFrance, Sung Jin Choi, Tania Cross, Ben Dowell, Stacy Fisher, Jashin Friedrich, Joachim "YoYo" Friedrich, Gerald Giamportone, Susana Gaudencio, Hiroshi Tachibana, Rachel Higgins, James Hyde, Kristen Jensen, Michael Johnson, Tom Kotik, Denise, Kupferschmidt, Emily Noelle Lambert, Colin O'Con, Jonathan Peck, Courtney Puckett, Nathan See, Emma Spertus, Madeleine Stern, Jennifer Sullivan, Raphael Taylor, Courtney Tramposh, and Austin Willis.

Vaudeville Park is as much a (very interesting) music and performance space as anything else, and so we're not surprised to hear that there will be a closing party and "sound performance" this Sunday, April 10, from 6 to 9 (not to mention some quirky contemporary classical music tonight, and "feral chamber music" on Saturday).

James Hyde OR 2008 Parex on wood 24" x 12" x 12"

Jennifer Sullivan Borrowed Confidence 2008 gouache, ink, collage on cardboard 10" x 16"

Nathan See The Triumph of Logic 2011 clay figurine, wood, cardboard, paint, paper

Joachim "YoYo" Friedrich Untitled 1976 oil on wood 2' x 4'

Emily Noelle Lambert Flock 2010 paint on wood

Denise Kupferschmidt Vase, Bowl, Block 2011 cement, plaster, paint, string, plexiglass, wood

Hiroshi Tachibana untitled 2009 hand-cut plywood, latex paint and oil pastel 16" x 24" x 6"

Courtney Puckett Bug 2010 wood, wire, string 5' x 1' x 1' [with detail of Raphael Taylor's "Designer 737 02/21/11 13:11, #1"]

John Blee Jewel Return 1982 acrylic on canvas 48" x 33"

I met our friend John Blee soon after I had moved to New York in 1985. I knew him first as a brilliant mind and an engaging conversationalist. I quickly found out that he was a painter and was relieved, and delighted, to learn that I really liked his work. It might not be too much of a stretch to attribute much of my ensuing engagement with the New York art world to our friendship in the 80s. John moved to D.C. years ago, much to my sorrow, but we never lost touch.

At the time we first knew each other he shared an incredibly vast unfinished loft with several truly tonic friends in what was just beginning to be referred to as "DUMBO" It faced Manhattan, and its windows overlooking what I used to call the "electricity factory," where a transformer would occasionally act up, lighting the night sky. Of course it made me think of the paintings.

John is still in Washington, but he's having a show this weekend in DUMBO, in the gorgeous apartment (with incredible views) of Norma Jean Markus. It's a return of sorts to the neighborhood which gave birth to so many beautiful canvases, even if the neighborhood itself has changed dramatically. For one thing, a visitor from Manhattan will no longer be the only one on the street after the end of the day shift.

Event Details:

Reception: Sat., March 12, 4 - 7 pm and Sun., March 13, 1 - 4 pm

Location: 70 Washington Street #12G, DUMBO, Brooklyn

To visit by appointment: Contact Norma Jean Markus at 917.446.7234

As Barry writes on Bloggy, many visitors to our apartment have admired the two paintings we have of John's. The larger one was actually one of the first works of art I had bought for the apartment. In Brooklyn this weekend you can see a range of his work from the 1980s to the present.

Related blog post: Art Wrap.

Below is an essay by writer and art critic David Matlock on John's work.

John Blee in DUMBO

As the 100th anniversary of Kandinsky' s breakthrough approaches, it is fair to ask: what
has been achieved? Are abstract paintings today repeating what has already been said--
and with each repetition, fading in strength? Or do they have something new to say, both
from a technical standpoint and in terms of meaning?

At the beginning, abstraction exploded. Kandinsky himself tried to consolidate a more
controlled language and connoisseurs still argue about his degree of success. When the
Abstract Expressionists adopted the language on a larger scale, canvases exploded again
in shamanic frenzy. Success was hit or miss, all too dependent on possession.

John Blee' s first mature paintings, dating from the early 1970s, were also shamanic,
painted on the floor, and dependent on force and a possessed dancing. In a career of 40
years, the man has achieved total control over paint and, more importantly, now owns
his meditative inscape. He owns the land that earlier painters had to burst into by force.
His paintings are deliberate acts of self-intoxication. (It is worth noting, that although he
came of age in the 1960s, he has always disdained the use of recreational drugs.) The
Hindu and Buddhist art he experienced as a child and adolescent in India were formative;
as was the medieval sculpture in the caves of Ajanta and Ellora; and the work of Indian
modernists in the National Museum. Blee responds to Asian art as an insider--someone
who was shaped by the culture before he received his American inheritance.

The paintings on display are easy to enjoy but difficult to understand. From a technical
standpoint, the rendering of space is unique. There is nothing arbitrary or " atmospheric"
about the backgrounds--they are architectonic--that is, they create a definite space in
which " painterly event" unfolds. It is easy to take pleasure in the paint--casual admirers
often remark, " What a painterly painter! What a colorist!" without suspecting the hidden
narrative. I strongly suspect the hieratic " Sphinx" (2009) is one of Blee' s dogs, posing
nobly on the grass--the humorous title a reference to the difficulty of knowing what the
animal is really thinking. These paintings are truthful because they begin from within
and encompass the outside world in an ecstatic veil of paint. Earlier abstract painters
discovered a new continent; John Blee is traveling inland and is providing a faithful
record of what he finds.

John Blee studied with Helen Frankenthaler, Robert Moskowitz, and Robert Motherwell.
His paintings have been shown in Paris, Moscow, Boston, Washington DC, and New
York City (including the Andre Emmerich Gallery). His work is in the Museum of
Modern Art and the Los Angeles County Museum.
He currently living in Washington DC.

- David Matlock

Reproducing the subtleties of a painting is always a challenge, one which can never be met fully, but I hope John won't be too unhappy with shot at this wonderful painting. I photographed it with an available (overhead) light while it was hanging on the wall of the Brooklyn apartment where it can be seen this weekend. It also appears here on the artist's own site, more evenly lit, but on a smaller scale.

The Dependent, where boundaries blurred (here the New York Fine Arts room)

I've found my art fair. "Armory Arts Week" worked this year: Institutions often don't age any better than people, and maybe the secret of life for old art shows is in the spawning of the new.

The Armory Show itself was, well, armorial, although there were pockets of real humanity.

Independent, which was such a hit last year on its first outing, was definitely more cerebral than both the Armory itself and even its own first manifestation. But there was little eye candy or energy, and it felt surprisingly stiff and corporate. I'm certain many individual conceptual projects would open up if only I could hang around some more, but on a frustratingly-short weekend of compelling attractions there's almost never enough time.

Speaking of candy, Daniel Reich hosted a modest, slightly roguish party inside his gallery on Friday afternoon. A salute to the 60s and the current gallery installation, Jack Early's Ear Candy Machine, it included continuous live music performances. it will probably remain one of my personal highlights of the week, and only partly for its odd folksy character (and Daniel's inimitable conversation).

The Dependent was the event I had most anticipated since I first heard about it, and I wasn't disappointed. Last night the Gramercy Fair (The Gramercy International Contemporary Art Fair), the 1994 progenitor of the modern Armory Show, was resurrected for a few hours. This was no sterile reproduction however, but a brilliant, exciting original. On the basis of the magic created last night, may have already created its own legend. It was "let's put on a show," and the results were pretty compelling, beginning with the contagious enthusiasm of the crowds on both sides of the "proscenium," and continuing through the marvelous blur of boundaries between art, environment, artists, viewers and listeners. The dozen or so exhibitors were given one hour to arrange their installations inside an equivalent number of smallish rooms (inside the Sheraton Hotel on West 25th Street) before the doors were opened at 4 pm. The show was supposed to end five hours later, but the crowds were still lined up outside when we left at nine o'clock.

I tried resisting the lure, and I almost didn't go to The Armory Show this year. So I think I was feeling a little grumpy in the first hour or so at the preview last night (it didn't help that Barry had once again refused to make the trek with me).

My personal best experiences with the West Side piers will almost certainly remain history, as they involved embarking and debarking from great ocean liners - or just "cruising," while today the most they can offer are trade shows.

I hate the getting to and the coming from when it comes to the the Armory Shows on these piers, and even being there is a strain. It's a desert over there: Nowhere else in New York do I feel I have to bring supplies with along me or I might starve or die of thirst. It's worse than the Chelsea gallery "neighborhood," and that's saying something. Because of the lines and the logistics, those piers are always barren of refreshments, even when the organizers claim to have made food and drink available. I couldn't even find a water fountain last night. Four hours in I was saved, just in time, by Pommery, thanks to a friendly dealer.

My enthusiasm for some of the art which hundreds of handlers had arrayed on the far West Side above the Hudson gradually picked up after the first hour or so. I ended up seeing some good work, and I had a great time, but the big reward, for me, came when I arrived at the CANADA stall. I always look forward to visiting the gallery - and visiting with the art keepers themselves - but last night, in the midst of so much intensive marketing up and down those long aisles, their space felt more than ever like an oasis of sweetness and light.

Of course Katherine Bernhardt's gorgeous thick Moroccan carpets helped, but they probably wouldn't actually have been necessary to establish the ambience that was drawing visitors so easily. I think I was there for almost an hour.

The image at the top includes, from the left, lower portions of paintings by Michael Williams, Xylor Jane, and Katherine Bernhardt. The work hanging on those warm umber walls can be expected to change throughout the show.

Stephen, Jessica, and friends

When I first saw this terrific image by Kristianna Smith I thought, "the only thing missing here is the cute puppy." In fact however both the photo and this post are all about the books. IDIOM, which we describe as our online magazine of artistic and cultural practice, has just launched a book section, IDIOMbooks.

We're very excited about it, not least because of our confidence in the folks you see conferring above. Stephen Squibb is the overall editor of IDIOM and Jessica Loudis will be editing IDIOMbooks.

We're also announcing the appointment of Kristianna as Staff Photographer (Yay!), the redesign of IDIOM itself, and a lot of goodies in the form of new articles in both sections of the site.

[image by Kristianna Smith]