Now That's Worth Crossing the Street For

When I was a kid my mom was a textile artist and a weaver. She made pieces that would hang on a wall or suspended in a space—or on your bed or your floor—by hand-dyeing fabrics, or with a gigantic loom using yarn and thread and other materials, or combinations of both. My brother and I would always give her shit when we were walking along and she would point out patterns in stuff—a tree or the sidewalk or a sand dollar or something—and she'd go on about how mind-blowing it was. Now we are pretty much the same way. Patterns, patterns everywhere. So anyway, she has a regular job these days, but she still thinks like an artist, and we were looking forward to visiting the galleries on her last day in New York.


We started the day with brunch at The Park. I love that place but the service has been kind of inconsistent the last few times we've gone—everyone seems spaced out all the time, things take way too long, you don't get exactly what you ordered, and they won't accommodate special requests such as, I don't know, extra anchovies on the side of your chicken caesar salad. Still, you can't beat the decor, which so perfectly expresses its aesthetic that the restaurant is a work of art in and of itself.After waiting out a pretty serious downpour with some bloodies and beers, we headed up to the galleries. As always, lots of interesting things to see on the way.


We saw a bunch of good shows. Here are some of my favorites.

Idaho-born artist Matthew Brannon at Friedrich Petzel Gallery. It's really tough to see the images online, because one of the biggest elements is the small letterpressed text below each image. One of them reads:

Of course you don't like carnations. That's half the reason we do. That's who we are. Those who like what you don't. And we know why. The paintings you buy, the films you attend, the books you read. All terrible. But what's actually great is...or...now that's worth crossing the street for.

Another one (actually from a previous show) reads

They had to pump her stomach - Amazing what they found - Among the arugula, watercress, blue-fin tuna, age-dried steak - There it is - Your Heart - And look...a bunch of razor blades - Little light bulbs - Cocaine - Little travel bottles - Anti-depressants - Your old untouched job application

I think I could have spent about another hour at that show.

David Shrigley at Anton Kern Gallery.

Wes Lang at Zieher Smith, which I talked about before.

Kerry James Marshall at Jack Shainman Gallery.

After the galleries we went to the Museum of Modern Art, which my mom had not seen since the remodel. The big show right now is Take Your Time: Olafur Eliasson, which you can view online here. The first piece you see is this fan suspended from five stories above, swinging itself around the big main room on the second floor.

My favorite part of the exhibit was this circular room with walls that slowly change colors.

There's also an exhibit up right now on books in art (and books as art). This is hanging outside it, where we took a much needed load off in some cushy leather chairs before going on.

Emily takes art history classes at MOMA one night a week (it's just across Sixth Avenue from her office) and it's great seeing the museum with her because she knows it so well, and points out things I would otherwise probably miss. One of them was this great film by Rodney Graham, of a beautiful old typewriter getting covered in snow.

It's an interesting comment on industry and technology becoming obsolete and/or reclaimed by nature. In the part shown at top left it looks like a landscape—it could just as easily be a factory in Pennsylvania.

The film is shown on this massive old projector.

After art appreciation day we settled in at The Modern, one of the nicest places in all of New York City. The service is impeccable, the drinks are interesting (I had a cilantro-infused Tanqueray with lime juice), you never know what kind of bar snacks they'll hand you (popcorn with truffle oil), and the menu is off the meter (we ordered the chicken liver paté and a big ol' cheese tart). Good, and good for you.

Through the Backyards

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One of the many benefits of having moms and or dads in the house is that they all love landscaping. While I've been closing the next issue of Wax Poetics all week, among other projects, my mom has spent some of her vacation time in the yard, mowing, edging, and raking. It's looking great.

Our yard has come a long way since we moved in over four years ago, and I hauled out several gigantic bags of trash—including several dead rats and a fully intact rat skeleton—plus chunks of concrete, fence remnants, and rotten lumber. More on the yard in a future post.

Au Revoir Simone Through the Backyards mp3

The Sun Comes Through

My good bud and fellow Northwest native Lily Raskind—proprietor of Sunshine & Shadow—got a great little write-up on style.com recently. I know it was a tough decision for her to take a step back and only do hats and scarves for Fall 2008, but it was definitely the right one.

In my experience, both with myself and with people I'm close to, there are times when you have a lot of momentum built up but your gut tells you to take a step back—and it almost always works out for the best if you do. I can't wait to see what Lily does next.

Check out the article at style.com
Visit sunshineandshadow.com to see Lily's spring/summer line, in stores now.

Sunshine & Shadow Fall/Winter 2008 posters, pictured above: Photography by Exu, Graphics by me

Miniature Birds

About six projects have converged into a cyclone of deadlines bearing down on me this week. Unfortunately this means the blog will have to suffer a little. Just to let'cha know I'm still around, here's my favorite find from the flea market last Sunday—a little tin of old phonograph needles, for a whopping $3.

The record selection has been a little shoddy lately but I got some really cool books that I'll have to post later, when stuff settles down.

My mom is in town and went to the market with us, which was pretty fun, considering she is partially responsible for my interest in digging through other people's trash.

Now is the time for you to stride

Today is my mom's birthday and she's with us in Brooklyn for a week. Last year at this time she and I were driving across the country, celebrating her 60th. She was going to go alone but since I am pretty much able to work from anywhere, I flew out to Seattle with my laptop and we hit the road. Here are some of the photos (you can see the rest in sequence on my Flickr page).

We figured we should start at the Pacific, so we drove to Cape Disappointment.
We spent her birthday in Missoula, MT, at the Missoula Club and the Oxford, which has an impressive display of firearms above the bar, and the sweetest bartender and kitchen staff on the planet.

We did a little camping along the way. At Yellowstone it was sunny during the day but got down to the teens at night. One morning we woke up with a quarter-inch of ice coating the tent.

The Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota was one of the highlights of the trip. This looked like a major road on the map but turned out to be 40+ miles of dirt, and a great way to see some parts of the res that we would normally have missed. Having read so much about Pine Ridge I was happy to be there and see it first-hand.

I'm leaving a lot out here, you should really check out the whole thing on Flickr if you care one little bit about me. This is in the Ozark National Riverways, in Missouri.

Emily met us in Pittsburgh and we hit up a bunch of thrift and record stores—and of course we couldn't miss Primanti Bros., home of the sandwich with fries inside. Emily and I loved Pittsburgh and thought we could happily live there. The thing is, you can't just move around all the time—there's a hundred cities I would like to live in for awhile but it's just not realistic. I feel lucky to have been able to try out both coasts.

The next day we went down to Fallingwater, and then on to Gettysburg, and back to Brooklyn the following day.

We ended the trip at the Atlantic (well, sort of: New York Harbor) on the dock at Red Hook.

I have been to Europe a few times, and it's great—I've had a lot of fun over there. But there is nothing better than a roadtrip through the United States. I don't mean there's not a better vacation—I mean that I don't know of an activity of any kind that is more fun than a roadtrip. That's especially true when you go coast to coast. You feel like you're in the middle of American history—you feel like what you're doing is epic, even though the minute-by-minute action of it is not always riveting. That's how life is anyway—all the little moments add up to something pretty fucking epic.

Junior Mama Used to Say MP3

Feel Your Love Tonight

Tonight I'll be playing records and my brother Sky will be tending bar at Arrow, aka The Rook, in the East Village. There is no format except for me playing my favorite songs, both of all time and of right this second—so you can expect to hear Gang Starr next to The Emotions, Cortex after Kevin Drew, Beat Happening and The United States of America and Don Pierce. Maybe even some Sillhouettes and Chips. A gigantic jukebox that is yours truly.

Please stop by for some drinks and good-time feelings.

Arrow aka The Rook
85 Avenue A (between 5th and 6th)
Friday, May 23, 9pm—

Surely You're Happy

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Today is Morrissey's 49th birthday. Happy birthday, Morrissey.

The Smiths are not my favorite band of all time or anything, but I am a huge fan, and they are one of the few bands I will happily listen to over and over. Still, I am regularly surprised at the level of obsession grown people are capable of when it comes to this person—it has really gotten out of control. The cult of Morrissey in New York seemed to hit a frenzied peak maybe four years ago when Sway was in full swing, and has waned since. But when you least expect it, freakish obsession still rears its head from time to time.

Apparently there IS a light that never goes out!

(Admittedly lame, couldn't help it, the exclamation point tells you I know it's lame... !)

With all of that in mind, this week Wonting asked friends to name their favorite Morrissey songs. I never got that into his solo stuff much, so all of mine are Smiths songs, and here they are.

1. What Difference Does It Make?
There was a period of time working at Visionaire when we literally listened to The Smiths all day every day, and by the end this was the only song I still wasn't tired of.

2. Half a Person
The first time I came to New York, I stayed in the YMCA, so for whatever reason I retroactively feel some kind of connection with this song, though I never engaged in back-scrubbery.

3. How Soon Is Now
I borrowed this record from my friend Michelle and never gave it back. Is that stealing? How can you say? (! -ed.)

4. William, It Was Really Nothing
Being from Seattle I feel a weird kind of angsty pride when he sings "the rain falls hard in a hum-drum town/this town has dragged you down."

5. (3-way tie!)
Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before
That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore
What She Said
I think I like these songs for the same reason I enjoyed reading Less Than Zero six times in a row in high school. "I've seen this happen in other people's lives, and now it's happening in mine." There's a sort of salty detachment there that I identify with for whatever reason. I think a lot of my feelings about Smiths songs would best be described using sentences that end with "for whatever reason."

This image is from Irregular Regulars (Team Gallery, 2007), Ryan McGinley's series of crowd photographs from Morrissey shows. (More images and an interview at vmagazine.com.)

In Deep Concentration

No time for a gigantic original post today, so here's an interesting excerpt from a 2004 interview with DJ Premier I ran across while working on a book for Wax Poetics:

Andrew Mason: How important is it when you’re making hip-hop music to be well rounded in the culture?

DJ Premier: To me, it’s very important. That’s why I keep it funky like I always do. I don’t care if people criticize and say my stuff sounds similar to this or this, it don’t bother me none. I’m a true DJ and I know a good record when I hear it. Everybody doesn’t have the ear for this. I have an ear that’s beyond most human beings’ ears when it comes to music. My library, all hip-hop put aside, what I listen to at the crib, you can’t front on it. I play nothing but raw shit. I like rock music, all that. AC/DC, Rush, Pat Benetar, Joan Jett, Simple Minds, Yes, Led Zeppelin, the Cars, I know my shit! Blue Oyster Cult, I can go any direction!

I used to be one of the only people in my high school who would wear the punk rock gear, with the double belts, the boots and all that! I wasn’t afraid of that at all. At that time, that was the rebel style. That went into hip-hop culture too, because I remember how Flash and them was dressed, with the leather and spikes and all. That punk rock and New Wave era was dope. You can’t even compare it to the “punk” that’s out now, you gotta know about groups like Fad Gadget, Tones on Tail, Bauhaus, old Depeche Mode, the Smiths. Morrissey is gay and I understood his lyrics for what they were saying, but at the same time I liked his music. It was dope and you can’t front on it. I respected him with an open mind. Most people who are homophobic have some problems that way anyway, so I wasn’t really afraid of it. They’re just human beings and that’s their preference. But I was into the Smiths, I was into Souxsie and the Banshees, Devo, the B-52s, Talk Talk, I went to all those concerts. As a matter of fact, I found my memory book from high school and I got mad concert tickets of all kinds of shows I went to. I’ve been to see AC/DC millions of times, Iron Maiden, Van Halen, Genesis, all that.

And here are some of my favorite Premier-produced tracks:
Jeru the Damaja Invasion MP3
Krumbsnatcha Gettin' Closer to God MP3
Chubb Rock, OC, and Jeru Crooklyn MP3
Notorious BIG Machine Gun Funk (unreleased Remix) MP3

Hedz Ain't Ready

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Wes Lang, Tits and Flags..., 2008, mixed media on antique paper, 22 x 27 inches

Are You Ready for the Country?, the third show at ZieherSmith gallery by Brooklyn artist Wes Lang, opens this Thursday. Again, not to get all repetitive, but ZieherSmith is kind of killing it right now, in my humble opinion.

I'll Sail My Ship Alone..., 2008, mixed media on antique paper, 13 5/8 x 11 5/16 inches

The Taste Of Life's Sweet Wine..., 2008, mixed media on antique paper, 22 x 27 inches

Buy US Bongs..., 2008, mixed media on antique paper, 22 x 26 7/8 inches

ZieherSmith is at 533 West 25th Street in Chelsea, NYC.
More images from the show at ziehersmith.com.
Wes Lang's CV and past exhibitions here.

Streets of Glory, 2004, acrylic on canvas, 30 x 22 inches (from Home at Last, 2004)

Blue Turning Gray

Mount St. Helens erupted 28 years ago yesterday. I was nine at the time so I guess I didn't totally understand the magnitude of it, but I remember we got sent home from school early, and I remember hearing from my cousins that Aberdeen was covered in ash. My grandpa's cattle were also dusted over in Ellensburg—the ash blowing everywhere affected the entire Northwest. I saved a little vial of the stuff, I'm sure it's around here somewhere.

These black and white photos are by Frank Gohlke, and are collected in his excellent book Mount St. Helens, published by the Museum of Modern Art on the occasion of his exhibition at the museum in 2005.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Blue Turning Gray MP3

Not long after Mount St. Helens erupted we got two kittens. Our first cat, Mama Kitty, had just died at the age of 19. To this day she still shares the title of Best Cat Ever with Betty Whiskers and Mr. Littlejeans. She was much older than us—my mom had gotten her some time in the sixties—and it always seemed like she was taking care of us. In this picture, taken a few years earlier, my brother returns the favor:

And here are the kittens. My brother and I named the gray one Toutle—after the color of the Toutle River, which they kept showing on the news, filled with ash from Mount St. Helens.

Raise the Roof

Mini burgers, beers, green jell-o and good times for all on a mostly sunny Saturday at Anna's house for Janice and Lisa's Birthdays.
More pictures on my Flickr page

The Sporting Life, part two

At the Preakness, Big Brown pulls off another impressive victory—one more to go for the triple crown. On to Belmont!

The Sporting Life, part one

Bright and early Saturday morning at Floyd for the FA Cup finals (Portsmouth-1 Cardiff-0), and then next door at Chipshop for full English.

The Great Curve

David Byrne has a good piece on The New York Times op-ed page today—a remembrance of his friend Robert Rauschenberg, who died this week at age 82: "His openness and way of seeing was contagious and inspired others in their own work — not to imitate and make pseudo-Rauschenbergs, but to see the whole world as a work of art." Musically I'm a David Byrne fan more in theory than in practice, but I have a lot of respect for his overall aesthetic and way of thinking about design and the world. It probably comes as no surprise that I am a huge fan of Rauschenberg, and this is a nice send-off. Read the rest at nytimes.com and check out David Byrne's website here.

CAMERA OBSCURA.

I'm so bummed, it seems the flash on our camera is broken again. I just had it fixed in January. This proves again that digital technology totally blows. Richard Avedon dragged his Leica through the mud and paddies of Nam but if you so much as poke a digital camera in the wrong place, it just shuts down. Anyway it's going back in the shop asap and the ol' Pacific Standard will be new-photo-free for God knows how long. Here's the last picture I took, of our good buddies Jason and Aoife, at the Cherry Tavern for Jason's birthday party. Happy birthday lil' buddy.

Curiouser and Curiouser

It wasn't even very long ago that I posted about The Stranger's In/Visible podcasts, and now I'm doing it again. Still, this one is really good: art critic Jen Graves talks to artist Dario Robleto about his exhibition at Seattle's Charles and Emma Frye Free Public Art Museum, symbolically re-constructing the interesting but seemingly pretty sad life of Emma Frye. The show sounds amazing but Robleto's various digressions (sampling, The Smiths, fandom, the magic of realism), though they take a little patience, are what make the the podcast worthwhile.

Click here to check it out.