Marina

I have been a rubbish blog updater. My apologies if you still actually read this.
I guess I have learned there is a time to be quiet. The past two months
have been that time. There have been ideas and things to share, but they have
been more personal and things that simply need a bit of muddling over.

I have found that posting less yields producing more.
Something in that is private and personal. I've started to log and keep my
thoughts in different ways and it has been more beneficial to me. I'm not sure
if I am going to be continuing this but I'm not going to decide that this moment.
It comes with time and peace.

Since March, I have been attending the Marina Abramovic retrospective at MOMA.
Tomorrow is the final day of Marina's performance.
If you have yet to see this incredible show, do yourself a huge favor and postpone
your bbq for a couple hours and head over to MOMA.
I'll certainly be there basking in the light of Marina's glow.

love,
a.

without them

A couple weeks ago I wrote about the Iranian artist, Shirin Neshat.
Her debut feature film, Women Without Men, will be playing next week.
From the preview and if her previous body of work is any indication, I am
confident it will be visually stunning and emotionally striking. The trailer
honestly brought me to tears.

Women Without Men
March 30. 615pm@MOMA
March 31. 915pm@Film Society/Lincoln Center

a dance like clockwork honey

It is an interesting experience to watch a performance

and be continually flooded throughout the viewing with other

images and thoughts it conjures in ones mind. I felt that way

this evening, watching the Mark Morris Dance Group at BAM.

Accompanied by a few stragglers running from the train though

the slush coming out of the sky, I was temporarily seated in the

back of the orchestra for the first piece, Behemoth. Being level

with the dancers for this part was ideal, to see the patterns, the

repeats, the prints in the space made with their bodies and

limbs. On all of their costumes, marigold and kelly greens,

each one had a little piece of mirror on their chest and they

would twist and one would hit the light and make little shadows

and sparks all over the room. It was clever and at first you think,

is that someone’s watch reflecting, what is going on? But, when

you realize it is the dancers and its part of their movements, it

brings a quiet smile.

I was thinking about Atomic City, a beautiful, thoughtful show with

acrobats that my brilliantly talented previous roommate, Aidan

performed in. It reminded me of the movements in that show. I

loved that about Behemoth, the repetitions of their playful, silly

movements, flopping feet like fish, the zigzag twisting with fingers

and to witness the reverb of these motions. The silence and space

in between become motions in another thought, in itself.

A scene started with five bodies, lying slightly to the side, feet facing

us. I immediately thought of one of my favourite passages in Albert

Camus' A Happy Death, where Patrice and his companions are at

the house on the top of the world in Algiers, sunning themselves until

they melt with pleasure. The cats are mentioned in this section of the

book, being lazy, carnal creatures and then some of the dancers were

stretching long and crawling across the stage, seemingly worshiping

the warmth of something and slowly scampering to reach it.

I started to think about those old wristwatches where you can see all

the springs and gears and everything is turning and it has its place but

there does appear to be a randomness about it. The dance felt like this,

but as if there was honey between the gears, making some motions in

between a flux.

I loved the tenderness when one of the male dancers picked up his lady

counterpart and held her up, displayed to the world and then laid her

back down, sliding her on to his back. It was quiet. I liked that.

The second piece ‘Looky’ was hilarious and fun. The backdrop was

like a Rothko painting and a Bill Viola art video to start and then the

dancers were running around in what I deemed to be Dolce and

Gabbana pajamas (but there was one star printed Miu Miu bodysuit,

I swear!) and making a tableau vivant turned barnyard hoe down.

But, don’t get me wrong, it felt so entirely Italian. This transformed

into a drippy gossip heavy formal ball a la Jane Austen. From there,

we turn to the jazz age, straight out of the chapter in The Great Gatsby

where Fitzgerald is writing about the citrus fruit for the lawn party.

It was drunken and erratic, with saltwater taffy melting soft Bob Fosse
struts and then wrapped with a slight resemblance to a Greek tragedy,

which is not too far off because the final dance was exactly that,

the death of Socrates.

I got all referential in this entry and that is not my intention, but I wanted

to stay true to everything that passed my mind and all the scribbles in

my notebook. Nonetheless, see this show at BAM if you can. Its worth it

for all your own set of inspirations and images.

Mark Morris Dance Group

@ BAM

February 26, 27 7:30pm

the lady artist of allah

It has been a couple years since I have held such fascination
with a video artist. Bill Viola, being my introduction to the medium
and really a founding father. I recently discovered Shirin Neshat,
an Iranian artist working today in New York. I have yet to see any
of her work in person, but was struck by the still from the piece,
'Games of Desire'. A meditation on oral histories and courtship
rituals in Laos.

This exhibit is up in Madrid at the La Fábrica Galería through March.

if love was like this, it would be better

animal collective continues to amaze me, shatter my heart and make
it melt like glossy wax. i prefer the EP version of this but it still retains
its lush charms. they have this unparalleled ability to make music
that when you hear it and close your eyes it somehow becomes an
all consuming experience. i want to dress in candy floss and float on
lurex carpets and kiss fishes and dance like i'm upside down and eat
luscious leaves like how this song sounds. there is sense in that to me.

ethnic girls are cooler than you

a painting to make you cry and feel still

i had been at the MOMA for more than two hours without realizing it today-
strange how when you are on an inspired trip, time is of no essence.
my last stop was the room dedicated to the return, well until april
of some of Monet's water lillies.
they stunned me into stillness on another countless occasion.
if you have yet to see these works in their basking light, please go.
they will break your heart. as they should.
MOMA
Monet's Water Lillies
through april 12, 2010
oh and i'm a member, so hit me up, you get a discount when you go with me.
water lillies 1914-1926

kindred soul spirit sister

fashion is always on about the past. and constantly edie, andy, bianca,
jane, jim, bobb, neil, stevie, etc etc. please, i love them all just like the next
one but sometimes its refreshing to get another in there...

with that said, grace slick slays me.
the lead singer from jefferson airplane (+the great society+jefferson starship)
(thanks for that jude, i never would have known them without you.)
not only was she stunning, belted out with a killer voice but also totally crazy.
she attempted to lace president nixons cup of tea with lsd.
i highly appreciate the evident weirdness and sarcasm.
maybe in my next life, i'll find myself in my kindred 1960s.

chelsea girl

it has taken me about two months to finally start to love my
chelsea neighbourhood. when i returned, i was really overwhelmed
with the idea of being back and not in a place as i remembered it.
a number of my favourite haunts prior to my trip had closed up shop
and i was dwelling on this idea of new york not being what i wanted.
and honestly contemplating the idea of getting right back on the jet plane.
but, alas, the gems have been found, or they found me...
+a knowledgeable photographer told me that jeff koons has his massive
studio a block away from me. b barr and i are planning to go dumpster
diving there soon.
+just found out there was a cafe grumpy on 20th street
+le bergamonte is the utmost amazing french cafe, so much so its dangerous
and i am attempting to avoid the place, but that didn't work today, i had to go
order a pecan pie for tomorrow and i could help but get a croissant, which are unreal.
+i'm really fascinated by this spot, bombay talkie and i'm hoping to try it shortly
grumpy cafe
224 west 20th street, between 7th/8th
le bergamonte
169 ninth ave at 20th street
bombay talkie
189 ninth ave

colours flood my mind and seep through my eyes

t and i volunteered all day for the Armenia Fund USA, making nonstop
phone calls in hopes of donations for karabagh. (check it out, link above.)
so, after hours of this, we were mildly exhausted. we happened upon this
show at deitch projects and its colours forced new found energy right
through my veins!
splitting twilight, kristen baker
at first, i was mildly unimpressed, but after a few minutes of standing in the
stark white gallery room with these slices of radiant light and stunning colour
stories, i was totally seduced. you really must see this work in person,
it has so much depth and is produced in such a raw way, that you can almost
dissect it, the longer you observe it. i love it. and its so inspiring to see a young
and totally strong female painter.
deitch projects
18 wooster street
tuesday-sunday, 12-6
on view til december 19
'splitting twilight', 2009
'stilly tempest', 2009
'oculatie der boomen', 2009

see your shoes and spirits rise

this is long overdue, i wanted to post this over summer holiday...
i just want to gush about my dear letter writing friend, erika pahk
and the unbelievable and creative work she has been doing as of late.
i so, intensely love these wearable art pieces she has developed.
the chatelaine pieces are so ideal for a nomadic traveling lady-
on my trip i found myself taking little things with me, so i could have
a reminder of all my loves back home, like jewelry and feathers and
they became so essential to me.
this device is a perfect means for their travel.

1. nesting, photo by rush jagoe
2. nesting, 2009
3. scarlet, 2009
4. chatelaine for worrier, 2009
5. chatelaine for a vagabond, 2009
all from erikapahk.com

as she talks, her lips breath spring roses

during my trip, i became fascinated with religious painting.
from madrid to armenia to italy and my last days in barcelona,
i was seeking them out in museums.
i finally made it to the Uffizi gallery in Florence with my lovely guide,
Caterina, my favourite Fiorentina and among the gems on the walls
we viewed that day, this painting, Primavera by Botticelli really struck me.
i especially loved this detail, where Zephyrus, the god of winds, is in
pursuit of the nymph Chloris and she has vines and flowers coming out
of her mouth toward her Roman counterpart, Flora, the goddess of spring.
i remembered this Jean Paul Gaultier Spring 2007 Couture show and
pulled a few images to get me thinking about halloween.
jean paul gaultier spring 2007 couture
botticelli, primavera

shoot my feathers oh so high. break that sky.

fredricks and mae is a design and creative collective based
in brooklyn and they are doing some great work with all
natural materials like creating these feather hair pieces,
pins and arrows
i spotted some of their pieces at maryam nassir zadeh
over the winter when i was selling my valentines
i recovered the memory of their work the other day
when i found some old arrows in a garbage bin in williamsburg