To be Exceptional

To be exceptional and view the exceptional has varied meanings:

1. to be considered exceptional is to be considered - someone else has to consider you, someone else has to be looking and gauging in the first place.
2. to be considered exceptional is to be placed within a hierarchy - towards the 'top' in this case -only because exceptional is a word with positive connotations.
3. to be considered exceptional is to be unique or different within a group of people - there has to be a norm for there to be an exception.
4. It has to be lonely. It is separated from everyone else at least to some degree
5. ego inflating - depending on the person
6. When someone is pointed out as exceptional, it is usually presented as if the exceptional person can't help it - their exceptional-ism is beyond their control.
7. It seems as if - because it is just the way the person is naturally - that to be exceptional is easy for this particular person and hard for everyone else in the group - whether this is true or not
My guess is that it is not because usually to be exceptional takes a large amount of extra work.
8. Being viewed as exceptional is being viewed from a skewed angle - it does not encompass all parts of a group of people or individual person...it is only looking at particular parts of a situation or person.
9. To view someone as exceptional is to be surprised - at least to some degree.

Polly Apfelbaum

I first learned of Polly Apfelbaum's work in grad. school. It was the floor piece with the bandaids... I can't find an image of it online right now...but someone had showed a slide of it during a class. Most of her work is bright, poppy colors like the images above, but the bandaid piece was that wonderfuly strange synthetic flesh color (Caucasian).

I remember liking the piece - the bandaids placed in perfect spacing-- circling, and building on each other similar to the spiral piece above (I believe I remember it that way).

Writing about it now conjures up the smell of bandaids out of the thin air.

At the time, I remember thinking how it would get on my nerves that it would be difficult to keep clean - think of how bandaids build up dirty gunk around the edges after one day of wearing one... I imagined this art piece collecting this gunk around its individual band aid edges and it made me really upset!

Other than the wall paintings above, her work does seem to have a temporary and fragile feel to it. I don't think people are allowed to walk on it - but it is a thin material on the ground where our dirty shoes roam.

Oh, and the pink reflection above is so delicious!

Kai Althoff at Gladstone Gallery "Punkt, Absatz, Bluemli"

Which means "period, paragraph, Bluemli"

He had shown at the ICA in Boston - but I didn't see it. Gigi said he had paid a homeless person to come in and sleep in the gallery - so she didn't like his work and felt tainted by his probably using the homeless guy for his own benefit - so she wasn't into this show (yellow images above).

I, on the other hand, was into the show. It took me a second because at first sight, I was seeing gestural aspects as sloppy - which only works for me in a particular context. If it seems too non-art, too trying to get away with something... I don't know. There is a lot of crap out there that gets put over in a maschismo, young guy, brash kind of way....and to me it is overdone and maybe too easy.

But this show came over me in a subtle way.... the choice of colors together, the textures and lines...and the smell. The smell definitely drew me in.

It was probably the yellow paint covering the floors...the smell made me think of playdoh though. The texture and hues of colors in the show remind me of playdoh too - now that I think back on it. I wouldn't be shocked to learn that every color chosen for the show was based on official playdoh colors.

There was a wall of mugs that could have actually been made of playdoh instead of clay. But the smell was powerful (not quite overwhelming but not subtle) so I'm guessing it was the paint that covered the floor. The paint job was sloppy - it showed the black floor underneath in areas where the paint was thin or was unevenly distributed. It was sinister and curious in the way it bled from underneath the red velvet curtains when you first walked into the gallery.

I was especially moved when I saw the sculpture of the woman with the bowtie around her neck. (2nd row above). The colors, textures, lines, flatness mixed with pattern were extraordinary! She was like a half blown up doll or a half deflated human or a cartoon morphing into a human...you can get some of this from the photographs above - but not as much as being in her presence. Yes, I definitely love her. There is something dirty and scary about her (maybe use of material with that yellow smudgy ground)...

Here is a little bit of the press release that really struck me:

"With sycophantic excitement they conduct every modern day sacrament - murder, construction, commerce and hygiene (among others). Yet their tangled wills act not in the name of altruism or holiness, but from their everlasting yearning for life's sweet spots and the age-old wish to dissociate from (or marry) all carnal cravings. "

Modern day sacraments all being grouped into one - putting hygiene and commerce and murder together into the same group - and then calling them sacraments! That is just delicious.

From Wikipedia:

A sacrament, as defined in Hexam's Concise Dictionary of Religion, is what Roman Catholics believe to be "a rite in which God is uniquely active."

In taking these words and applying it to his work - I am enthralled but also don't know what to say beyond this...

I took the other (non-yellow) images from around the web - they weren't part of this show. I wanted to show some of his line and color in his paintings...

Jerry Saltz , in a review he wrote of Kai's work in 2001, stated his obvious influence of Egon Schiele. Also from Saltz's article 'History Painting' in the Village Voice:

"Althoff has a lyrical gift for depicting what Hans-Jurgen Syberberg, director of the 1980 epic Our Hitler, speaking of Germanness, called "the monstrousness from which we are made." Dealing in the cultish and something very male, Althoff uses nostalgia, fairy tale, irony, and sentimentality as levers to update the past. Foregoing the clean, urban, German cosmopolitanism of Gursky & Co., Althoff depicts a mysterious, demonic past."

Charles LeDray at Whitney: workworkworkwork

I love the title of his show! workworkworkworkwork

There are no spaces between the words, leaving no room for rest. I am pretty sure I saw the title in all lower case at some point and with a capitalized 'W' as well... I like the lower case version: it makes the work less important and, therefore, feel more redundant.

It was a fantastic and charming show. I use the word charming probably because of the smallness of all the objects.... All the objects were well made and smaller in scale than their human counterparts. All clothing was made by the artist and many of the clothes were probably in a scale slightly smaller than that of a little girl's baby doll or as small as a Barbie or Ken doll. Other objects were delicately carved of human bone - doll house scale. The tiny pottery that was thrown on a wheel (made traditionally somehow) was also in doll house scale.

Thoughts on the show:

1. (Well made) small objects create a feeling of tenderness in the viewer - just me? I don't think so... I think there is something human about being moved by small clothing. Its like a child's clothing and speaks to a vulnerability of sorts...it also makes the viewer aware of their own size as they lord over the small clothing...

2. While viewing the show, it occurred to me that LeDray was talking about humans and society through clothing and iconography (patches sewn onto handsewn denim pieces).

3. I wondered why he only went small. Wanting to change the size of the sculptures simply to make them obviously handmade is one thing --- but I am wondering about his choice to only go smaller...and how did he choose his particular chosen sizes?

4. I liked the purposeful, well-crafted wear and tear on the carpets, clothes, and drop ceilings in the sculptures ...including dust(!) that was obviously purposeful (based on its size and perfect placement) as it was balled into corners of the top of the drop ceiling. Carpet was worn down in a recognizable way - i've seen shoddy carpet like that before in some second hand shop in some small town!

5. Multiplicity: There are many, many little clothes...each hand made, each well made, with different patterns, colors, cuts. He would make an entire rack of men's clothing in miniature size - perfectly and exactly as it would be seen on Main street. If he only made one or a few....that is one thing....but there is an obsession here(?) - which many admire and marvel at - just for that.

From Wikipedia:

"LeDray has been described as “the best-kept secret of the contemporary art world, labouring away for years before completing a sculpture.”^[3] He does not often discuss the meaning of his work, leaving pieces open to interpretation. According to Alan Artner of the Chicago Tribune, “at a time when contemporary art is often wholly dependent on words, the silent, apparently simple but persistently elusive work of LeDray is akin to a blessing.”^[4] LeDray is perhaps best known for his small, though correctly proportioned sculptures of everyday objects, which "refrain from feeling precious or adorable.” ^[5]"

My thoughts:
It's funny. I used to be so cool with words...with describing my own work. I do get into theory and the conceptual end of work at times - I am not uncomfortable with it. Yet the wiki words above give me a feeling of relief. I think that maybe that is because I am having a hard time feeling out the conceptual side of my work and trajectory right now... plus there are things that i don't really want to say in words --- maybe some things are unspeakable and can only be 'heard' in other languages.

From wbur.org "The Power of Tiny" for ICA version of the same show as at Whitney:

"....“Mens Suits” is a pint-sized second-hand clothing shop in a human-sized art gallery. The little store’s three rooms are only about about shin-high. The colorful, textured garments — little button down shirts and jackets suspended from minute hangers — might fit a Ken doll, or maybe G.I. Joe.

The suits evoke the memories and associations we have with the beloved, well-worn fabrics we wear day in, day out, close against our skin. But again, they’re so small, displayed on racks right up against the miniature used clothing of imagined strangers.

Seeing the work from above creates a curious response in the viewer, as curator Hopkins explained it. “Suddenly towering over things gives a strange new position in relation to them, so that we can scrutinize them and imagine exerting a new kind of control over them,” Hopkins said....

And that’s the fun of it reflecting on the “power of tiny,” as Hopkins puts it. “(Little things) seemingly harmless in scale activate our imagination in an immediate way we know from childhood, drawing us in,” Hopkins said.

But it should be pointed out that artist LeDray’s vast body of work is too rich with humanity to be viewed as simply adorable. It conjures the passing of time, and even our own identities.

Also, there’s a touch of the macabre in LeDray’s aesthetic that perhaps might temper viewers from gushing too wistfully over his lovely little works. Some of his miniature sculptures are made of hand-carved human bone. A ladder, a chair, a door — and even that little model of the solar system."

Keith Tyson

I bought a Keith Tyson deck of cards at Pace the other week. I originally got it for my husband because it had one NASA card inside the deck and he loves NASA. But that was stupid - I later realized - because I'm sure NASA has a whole deck of their own cards in some gift shop and having Nasa as a part of his deck was clearly not that important to Tyson -- it was one of many cultural symbols mixed with patterned cards that were reminiscent of the patterns on the back of cards without matching exactly.

The deck of cards went with the exhibition that was up which included large (30x40?) 'paintings' of cards. They were very well done (almost sleek but still not quite machine???? or maybe still machine but not too shiny??) They obviously referenced playing cards and were displayed on a dark green wall that helped reinforce this idea of a card playing table. They lined the walls and contained different images that ranged from a girl with a ball gag in her mouth to a kitschy kitten to the NASA symbol. They had a presence about them - esp. with the green wall drawing you in from outside in the street. I liked them.

In looking Tyson up, I found other images like the ones above of a previous Pace show. I wish I would have seen that one! It has a similar feel of a collector or maker of multiples that are the similar yet different.

from Haunch of Venison:

"Keith Tyson (b 1969, England) has an interest in the way the world works, our place in it as individual human beings and the interconnected-ness of every aspect of the universe....In the late '90s, after years of working with machines and methods based on randomness..."

from Wikipedia:

"His work is concerned with an interest in generative systems, and an embrace of the complexity and interconnectedness of existence. Philosophical problems such as the nature of causality, the roles of probability and design in human experience, and the limits and possibilities of human knowledge, animate much of his work. Tyson works in a wide range of media, including painting, drawing and installation."

Wow. Wikipedia! ...interesting ...

Petah Coyne

Years ago a few art friends gave me a Petah Coyne book. They gave it to me thinking that I had a similar aesthetic. Although mine is not as developed, I agree. I was going through the book today and also looking for further reading and images on Coyne online. As you can see, there was a plethera of images I was drawn to -- and really each of them I wanted to put up here. No one represented her work to an extent that satisfied me. I didn't feel repetitious in showing multiple images... I think it is because I'm really into her work.

The book shows the bottom images here + the third row down (white) images. They contain waxed flowers, taxidermy, ribbon, tassles, curly branches, feathers etc. The information in the book covered Coyne's fascination with Japanese culture and mentions the color vermilion at the very beginning. Vermilion is a color used in Japanese buddhist temples. I thought it was a purplish hue - given much of the work in the book - but it is actually a red - A vivid red to reddish orange. It is the color on the first page of the book...

That means nothing really - to my inquiry into Coyne's work - well, maybe it affects the mood. Even though parts of her work are white, I am drawn to the darkness felt in these pieces...and a purplish black embodies that mood. Vermilion - not directly about death, but with the right mix of colors... it is a passionate color. It is red and that can mean life and death.

The book also states that there are literary references and cinema references in her subtitles...that reminds me of how I have been considering bring storyline/narrative references into my work as a guiding point - maybe a story will help me to put my work together in a more cohesive manner.

When looking online, I noticed she does photography as well. Her b/w photo at the top of monks is GORGEOUS. I will have to think further on how her photography and sculpture work go together, yet are so different... I need to find more of her photography work.

I was just reading a Bomb Magazine interview of hers - in addition to Japanese and Chinese culture - she also speaks of Catholicism which I'm assuming she grew up with. Now I see where our paths may cross!

From the Bomb interview with Lynn Tillman :

"LT You’re often referred to as a lapsed Catholic.

PC Very much so.

LT I wonder what lapsed means. It’s one thing not to be a practicing Catholic, but to lapse is something else, to disconnect, not be involved.

PC You can’t disconnect.

LT Bataille writes sex scenes on altars; only someone still connected would care.

PC But that is what Catholicism is about. You’re kneeling in front of this naked man up on a crucifix."

WHOA! YES! 1. that you can't disconnect. 2. sexuality in catholicism. She doesn't say so, but I suddenly wonder about the connection between ornate decoration and sexuality!! Oh my- why have I not thought of that before?! How interesting! I do think of femininity and decoration - in luring someone in...and there is also a luring into a cathedral - into a place of worship. I will never forget the inside decor of the church I was raised in. It is a major part of ME. I spent so many hours gazing at the kalaidescope of colors, patterns and statuary within the church. I always knew it was special to me - always thought it was so beautiful and unique.

In grad school, i was just beginning to figure out my aesthetic with my sculptures. It was a time of experimentation - I knew I was working on embryos - that I hadn't even begun to get into the meat of it - I still don't fully KNOW it - I am working on it but it is still embryonic, I'd say. I remember in grad. school having a hard time fully acknowledging what I was and was not attracted to aesthetically. I am attracted to the clean, white spaces of a modern room - for instance. But, damn, I love decoration and admire many antiques and ornateness. I am probably still not resolved in what it is my specific aesthetic is - I do like art decor for the way it sat between the two: modern line and form with decor and intricacy still playing a role -- I like that a negotiation was going on between the two. TO DO: look more at art deco in order to flesh some more of that out.

From Bomb article:

"PC: But I could tell who would and who wouldn’t. Often I could do it by smell. It’s so animal in a way. You could usually know two days before. The physician said that at that point, a patient’s system begins to break down, so I was probably sensing that. At times the odor was so sweet, like when you smell babies’ heads. My brother, before he died, smelled glorious. When he died, he turned bright yellow because of all the toxins."

The article states that she worked with people that were dying - as a job - for awhile. There is so much death in her work - in the darkness, the taxidermy, the falling 'blobs', the sculptures writhing on the ground - yet there is so much beauty as well. The book states that showing the beauty in death is a japanese idea - it definitely isn't American! But I am sure that other cultures have looked at death with beauty as well - I will have to look at that further.

From Bomb article again:

"PC I think it’s about pretense, all the work is pretense. They’re hanging from the ceiling, seemingly very delicate and easily breakable. Instead, what they really are is a threat. They’re extremely heavy, and if they fell on you, they’d crush you. So the work has all these dimensions. I’m interested in the bride who is really the bride past. I’m so far from a bride at this point that my white hair could be the bridal gown. I love Charles Dickens’s Miss Havisham, who was left at the altar. Time stopped for her, everything in the house stopped, nothing changed. The wedding cake stayed on the table for 30 years, uneaten. She lived in that bridal dress, withered like grave clothing.

LT Maybe that’s incorporated into the bride. She’s an image representing time standing still. The bride’s always new, always loved, always true. Fifty percent of marriages break up; but the bride is permanence, love, being forever young. She’s almost like the cross, having withstood reality. Reality tells us being the bride isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. We know there’s an emptiness.

PC There’s the beauty of not knowing. Brides have that. I just photographed all these debutantes and brides; they were beautiful, even when they were at their most self-conscious and showing signs of awkwardness. I’m really not interested in the fresh, new bride. From my vantage point, I’m much more interested in being past your prime. All these wax pieces are the parties afterward, the residue that’s left. It’s not about fresh, new. It’s about a type of beauty that’s long after, which is more beautiful than what’s promised to the bride. But it’s not a beauty we’re accustomed to looking at.

LT But how do we see that in the brides, that it’s afterward, say, in the wax sculptures?

PC Because the wax pieces are half-melted, the images don’t read sharply anymore. The big floor pieces shown in the middle of Galerie Lelong were two “virgins” sharing one arm. Most people thought that arm was just a lump of wax, they didn’t see that the two brides were each holding a baby; actually, it’s my sister holding the perfect baby, I’m holding a headless one. Everything was melted into what looked like the floor. If I had made them fresh and new, you would read everything as softer."

I like what both women are saying about brides...what Lynn is saying about the NEW FOREVER YOUNG and what Petah is saying about it aging and the half-melted image that doesn't read sharply anymore -- It's funny but I'd also say that at the beginning things are also not sharp. Dreams aren't sharp - they are hazy themselves. The truth of the dream is sharper and more fine tuned.

From Bomb again:

'Petah Coyne It’s all the associations that I make with the work. I don’t know if it’s important that the general audience see it, but many of my associations come from Japanese literature and culture. You wouldn’t recognize those associations unless you had read a tremendous amount about Japanese culture or were familiar with it. Recently, Martha Schwendener mentioned that my last exhibition was about obscuring objects by continually adding layer upon layer of white wax. Although the work was made before September 11, she felt it was quite reminiscent of the chalky dust and ash that blanketed the buildings and occupants of lower Manhattan with a premature “snow.” Her description reminded me of Butoh, the sixties Japanese dance movement, which was drawn from both the energy of death or a life consumed in both sorrow and joy. Butoh is also referred to as the dance of the dark soul. I was dealing with Hiroshima, catastrophes and almost panic.

LT Almost panic?

PC The way in which people panic afterward and then are filled with rage. Right after Hiroshima is when Japanese artists started doing Gutai.

LT What is Gutai?

PC It’s a post—World War II art movement. It isn’t exhibited much, because the ideas are more captivating than the work. It seems the conceptual intentions were to purge all formal painting of its traditionally rigid scope. It was about making work and destroying it. They’d hang large sheets of paper from trees and drive motorcycles through them. My impression was that everything was about rage.'

Rage, panic - I see that in her work. The motorcycle/paper work sounds fascinating and beautiful.

Damn. I know there was a quote in this piece about catholicism sitting on your head. Now I can't find it for the life of me... I could have sworn I read that. And I love it.

Luc Tuymans - who the hell knew i'd become a fan in one afternoon?

I am basically going to take everything seen and written about Luc Tuyman's work from saatchi-gallery.com. It is a direct steal of part of this blog section and then comment and muse on it kind of thing...

My words: At first I was looking at images of Tuyman's work, remembering having seen them before and recognizing their muted color palette. I wasn't very interested in what I was seeing - which is the same way that I felt the first time I glanced at his work - emphasis on glance. I had never paid attention to his work for several reasons: He is very much a painter - many painter friend's of mine had referenced or at least better knew his work. Also, his subject matter didn't draw me in, his painting style/brush didn't draw me in, his muted color didn't draw me in.
Then I read on saatchi what his work was about, where it came from, and what was really going on. I then became interested. And in reference to what is said on the saatchi site - I can now see that in his work. I don't know if I didn't take the time to see more in his work or if his work requires one to know more of the background.

From Saatchi:

'Exposing the gap between represented image and historical event, Luc Tuymans's paintings delve into the inner workings of how mythology is created. The reality of Luc Tuymans's work is almost 'twee', pleasing images of a lampshade or leopard-skin rug pass quite comfortably as aesthetic totems; it's only their cognitive association with the Holocaust, or atrocities of the Belgian Congo, that encapsulates the true banality of evil - the unspeakable horror in a teacup, the monstrous potential of an empty bath. Luc Tuymans's paintings consciously fall desperately short of the iconic, becoming vestiges posed as counterfeit emblems for that which cannot be conveyed.'

My words:

Uh, wow. I see it. (Elsewhere I read that a relative of his was a nazi soldier that died and he had a mentally challenged aunt who was in the camps. ) The banality of evil is definitely something i've found myself preoccupied with at various times in my life (and to varying degrees) - I grew up wondering how in the hell such a thing as the holocaust could have happened (like the rest of the world). This is quite silly, but I remember feeling guilty or at least "my direct relatives weren't there" kind of feeling while growing up in a small Texas German Catholic community. I read, my namesake, Hannah Arendt's Banality of Evil and understood what she was searching for. It (evil) is still mysterious. One still can't put your finger on it...I like that Tuyman's work deals with this elusive and very human subject matter--and he deals with the elusiveness at that.

From Saatchi:

"Still Life is a monument to this inadequacy of language. Made initially for the 2002 Documenta, Luc Tuymans was expected to present paintings of images relating to 9/11 to coincide with the exhibition's theme of political and social engagement. What he decided to show was a giant still life. The sheer scale makes the contemplation of this painting almost impossible: a vast canvas representing an absolute nothingness. Luc Tuymans chose the subject of still life precisely because it was utterly unremarkable; a generic 'brand' of 'object' rendered to immense scale; it is banality expanded to the extreme. The simplicity of Luc Tuymans's composition alludes to a pure and uninterrupted world order; the ephemeral light, with which the canvas seems to glow, places it as an epic masterpiece of metaphysical and spiritual contemplation. In response to unimaginable horror, Luc Tuymans offers the sublime. A gaping magnitude of impotency, which neither words nor paintings could ever express."

My Words:

Oh my god, I am in love with the words above. I am in love with what Luc is doing....I'm still not attracted to his work visually....although i haven't seen it in person (that i remember) -- but it is purposely unremarkable and i respect that. With the above words of "In response to unimaginable horror, Luc Tuymans offers the sublime." -- I wonder if the sublime is the aesthetic way to deal with the unimaginable - the result or the tactic? I am thinking of my previous post about Eve Sussman and my video piece, Ave maria. I couldn't talk about something directly, or thought i couldn't, and the work ended up being sublime. I don't even know if it was purposeful or not... But it does make sense that those things that are unimaginable can only be spoken of in terms of something else unimaginable (or only imaginable to a degree) and that would be that definition of sublime I had mentioned before via Gina: the moment of peacefulness when confronting death - that split second...

Saatchi:

If media images inadequately depict the horrors of reality, then Luc Tuymans's paintings are even more disturbingly detached. Often taking his imagery from published photos (of war, violence, subjugation), the paintings are the antithesis of this historic iconography: dull tones, vague, nondescript scenes, stripped of emotional propaganda.

"Maypole suggests only the mistiest remnants of a memory: men in lederhosen raising a mast (Cross?), with flags waving in the distance, they could be scouts, pioneers, morris dancers or Hitler Youth. Though it's painted with the faded language of nostalgia, Maypole is strangely empty: void of sympathy or moral, Luc Tuymans renders a scene twice-removed, making it impulsively human. Without context of history or source, the viewer is left to engage with the painting on a purely instinctive level; being drawn into the evils of history, he adopts his own role as a silent and willing observer."

My Words:

oh my god again. The comparison of his work to that of propaganda and media's depiction of war (horror)!!!!! Yes! I am excited about this! It is so pertinent. Once again, an image and even words cannot - CANNOT - depict what it really is - the horror, the humanness-- (only touch it slightly here and there in a partial and removed way in good art). I like that Tuyman's is talking about that impossibility - that failure of ours to not be able to fully express something from our lives.

From Saatchi:

Luc Tuymans paints the indescribable. His dark muted scenes seem vaguely familiar, distant, like haunting memories. Drawing his inspiration from grand themes, Luc Tuymans taps into a universal social guilt: from the Holocaust, or imperialism, to child abuse. By minimalizing his images, he creates a raw emotion through paint; each painting linking spiritually, somehow instinctively, to the rest.

Within is a tranquil vermin metaphor for contamination and disease. A close-up detail of a birdcage, this painting more than conveys feelings of hopelessness and isolation: through its sheer size and potency, it literally traps the viewer, swallowing him into a prison of collective consciousness.

My words:
I am going to have to go see his work in person - i think there is something up in Chelsea right now... I wonder if i'll be as moved by viewing his work as I have been about the IDEA behind his work. I may not.... It is difficult since his work is purposely about the failure to express something...it makes it purposely 'unappealing' in some kind of way 0--- i mean it isn't going to grab me, is it? Maybe i can still be a fan of his work and not be attracted to it aesthetically... We'll see.