dirty doilies

I recently came by some second hand doilies, and their indelible tea stains are as dirty as those doilies are ever going to get. Artist Laura Mappin takes “dirty” in an entirely different direction. When Doilies Go Bad is an exhibition currently being held at San Francisco’s Soap Gallery in the Mission district. My dear friend Amaya and I made our way through the Mission , expecting to find glorious crocheted penises, vaginas and dirty words, and lo and behold, Laura Mappin did not disappoint. The artist even threw in a golden crocheted tampon.

At first glance the gallery space seems to have been transformed into a crochet mad grandma’s living room where doilies are hung from the ceiling, on the walls, and draped across inviting looking armchairs. It does not take long for the viewer to realize that these are no ordinary doilies. Instead of the quiet delicate designs of the traditional doily, these works scream dirty words and phrases, calling to our attention the most basic of bodily functions and desires. The artist asked “How pretty must something be before we can talk about it?” and she masterfully utilizes her crochet background to create these fiber art works that address some of the taboos our culture has about our bodies. By inundating the viewer with imagery of genitalia the artist succeeds in transforming the unspeakable into something that is simply a facet of every day existence, which it has been all along, it’s just that we’ve just been too caught up in our own insecurities to notice.







I truly enjoyed this show. Even though it was small, it packed a punch ; every piece was a true delight. I also happened to have the pleasure of speaking with the artist herself, who happened to be stationed at the gallery receiving the visitors. We had a wonderful conversation about what we both knew of the current goings on in the fiber arts community. She was charming, receptive, and genuinely interested. She even took notes. At the risk of sounding like a proper grandma, it was a delight to speak with her about her artistic practice and her works. She told me that she didn’t particularly consider herself to be an artist, she just did what she felt compelled to do with her medium and the works before us were the result which happens to be an amusing tongue in cheek visual that portrays a potent message about our bodies. Also, upon leaving the gallery, Mappin presented me and Amaya with "micro doilies", each a mini original work with a saucy message. Mine says "Thanks for the orgasm". This could make a lovely post-coitus present, since, let's face it, saying "thank you" afterwards is just downright awkward. Mappin told me that they should be available on her website soon.



AND even though it's not noted on the Soap Gallery website, the gallery is indeed running When Doilies Go Bad for one more week, so it will be there through this upcoming Saturday. Go see for yourself!

museum mondays [ ink eats & drinks ]

During a recent trip to Sacramento, Eric and I were invited to eat at Ink, a tattoo themed bar and restaurant. A tattoo themed eatery? I was intrigued. We arrived around one in the morning on a Saturday night and the place was packed. It was immediately obvious that we'd happened upon the "it" place to be that evening. The crowd itself didn't seem to be particularly alternative or even tattooed, so it would seem that the restaurant caters to those outside of the subculture, and is successfully cashing in on an art form that is currently fascinating and being appropriated by pop culture. It was almost like watching TLC's LA Ink and getting to eat it too. But I'll admit it, I'm a tattooed person who knows the image tattoo reality shows propagate of tattooing and tattooers is misleading, melodramatic or even silly, but when I had access to cable I still watched them anyway. And you know what? I still enjoyed eating at Ink.

The interior décor featured red walls with black trim, and upon the ceiling hung a series of tattoo themed paintings, done by various artists from Sacramento’s Forever Tattoo. The color scheme and the paintings invoke a sense of a traditional tattoo parlor with the red walls and covered in flash. The flash is found in the paintings that are all amalgams of traditional American and Japanese tattoo motifs appearing to have been thrown haphazardly onto the canvas together. Despite the compositional and thematic issues I had with some of them, the paintings themselves were nicely executed and I spent entirely too much time careening my head upward, mouth agape, being bumped into and having drinks spilled on me because of them.












I was pleasantly surprised by how Inks kitchy, trendy atmosphere managed to avoid engendering an elitist air about it. The wait staff was friendly, though oddly enough, not as tattooed as I had expected for a tattoo themed restaurant. And as for the food, Ink may be a tattoo themed restaurant, but thankfully it spares customers the trite tattoo themed food and drink names and just gives it to you straight. And when it gets to your table, damn is it good.I’d definitely recommend swinging by if you happened to be visiting Sacramento, or just happen to be a local who hasn’t frequented the fine establishment yet.

still stealing the show

For those of you that are lamenting Chihuly at the de Young’s sold out status, fear not! You can still see a Chihuly in person. Just visit the de Young’s sister museum, the Legion of Honor, instead. Or you could just read this blog, of course. After visiting Chihuly at the de Young, my mother and I made our way over to the Legion, as if you purchase tickets for one museum, you can attend both for no extra charge! I also had wanted to visit the Legion for some time, especially since my trip to the new Cal Academy; just trying to assuage my sense of loss by visiting a museum with more classical architecture, I suppose. I was surprised to see a Chihuly cohabitating courtyard with Rodin’s “Thinker”. There is just such a contrast in the sculptures mediums, color schemes and aesthetics that the juxtaposition of the two results in a true celebration of classic and contemporary art.





Inside the actual museum, there are two Chihuly “Chandeliers”, both hung in galleries that housed sculptures from the Legion’s permanent collections. Both of these galleries have paned glass ceilings, which provided a beautiful backdrop for both of the hanging sculptures. The sculptures didn't even appear to be hung. They just hovered in the gallery, silently suspended above us all. The lighting in the gallery was dedicated to the objects from the permanent collection, not to the "Chandeliers". Instead of being lit spectacularly as the other Chihulys as the de Young were, the "Chandeliers" at the Legion were left to their own devices, illuminated only by the natural light from the ceiling, the lighting in the gallery only gleaning off the glass. This did not make them less beautiful by any means.





Quite the contrary, seeing them this way made the "Chandeliers" seem even more beautiful. Instead of submerging you in a sea of color as the installations at the de Young did, these pieces as they were presented individually at the Legion offered a splash of color in otherwise entirely gray galleries. Contextualizing them in such a classic setting gave these works an opportunity to reveal their true caliber and beauty, as they were still able to contribute to the aesthetics atmosphere of the galleries despite the fact that they were so very out of context artistically. Some art works fail miserably when their physical setting that is antithetical to their medium, purpose or period. Chihuly's "Chandeliers" still managed to steal the show despite the fact that the gallery space was not specifically curtailed to their display. If that's not a significant & strong work of art, I don't know what is.









Post Script : I would absolutely recommend seeing these Chihuly works in this setting, especially if you're a Bay Area resident. Better make your way out there this weekend, as Chihuly at the de Young closes then and, it's safe to assume that these sculptures will leave when the rest of his works do. Who knows when he'll be back in the Bay?

chihuly at the de Young

Recently I visited the Chihuly at the deYoung exhibit. While I was intrigued by Chihuly's glass sculptures (and his rather magnificent eyepatch), I was hesitant to attend this exhibit. Many of the people I know who live or lived in the Seattle//Tacoma area in Washington had few positive things to say about the artist. Some had contentions with how commercial Chihuly was, making comments to me like "Even the McDonalds in Tacoma has a Chihuly." The only prior experience with the artist I had was his Glass Bridge in Tacoma, which I remembered enjoying. So after escaping Convocation ceremonies, my mother and I fled to the deYoung, where Chihuly's first major exhibition in San Francisco was being held.

As a blockbuster show, it was intensely crowded. So we passed the time until our show slot in the sculpture garden eating lunch. When it came our time to see the show, there was still a line. My mother whispered to me "I feel like we're at Disney Land." The doors opened, and we were ushered into the dark.

The gallery walls were painted black, and the first work on display in the retrospective was the "Glass Forest #3", tucked behind a corner, hidden from any last vestiges of sunlight. Displayed on a reflective floor, the work flickered and glowed in the dark, and we were drawn to it like fireflies. From what I could see initially behind a wall of eager observers, the "Glass Forest" reminded me very much of Dan Flavin's body of work. However, upon a closer look I discovered that it was much more than a series of vertical florescent light tubes. They were incredibly organic structures, and Chihuly just made it look so effortless. Like he culled them up and out of the Earth.






I love how many of the pieces photographed in the dark with my little point and click. While there is certainly something to be said for crisp, well done photography, I liked the blurriness of some of my photos. It felt like the true ethereal nature of the pieces was simply making itself known.

The next gallery featured "The Venetians", which was a series of vase like vessels displayed on their own shelves on the gallery wall.I thought this was a rather poor exhibiting desicion, as it visually transformed the museum gallery into a commercial gallery. It felt as if you could pick one of the "Venetians" off the wall and carry it home with you if you could only pay what they would ask of you for it. Though in a way, this method of display is understandable due to space constraints and the expected number of viewers for such a blockbuster show. The gallery space was also shared by several pieces from Chihuly's "Ikebana" series. The notions behind the series were very insightful, but the aesthetics of the pieces were not. Though unlike the "Glass Forest #3", it would utterly obvious that these works were not made effortlessly.

The next gallery held something far more spectacular in store for the viewer. "The Persians".
Intended to invoke the sense of awe that Western explorers experienced upon coming into contact with "the orient" for the first time, the pieces did just that. The beautiful alien flowers seemed to float upon the air. Pulsating with life and light, even though they stood absolutely still. They way they were displayed was wonderful, as if they were flowers upon a trellis. One of the benefits of this was that viewers could view them from every angle, lingering in the warm colorful shadows they cast across dark gallery walls. They were my mother's favorites.








Several galleries later, I discovered my own favorite. "The Reeds". This was another piece of Chihuly's that just appeared so beautiful and effortless. Though this tentacular glass sculpture was intended to invoke connotations of forms in nature, to me, it seemed more like ectoplasm rising from the dead logs, grasping for heights that it would never quite reach. Never to be free from its dead prison.





"The Boats" aside, the next items of interest were Chihuly's hanging sculptures, which he just collectively referred to as "The Chandeliers". They hung suspended not only in space, but in time. It was if Chihuly captured a moment frozen in time with these sculptures. They were ice crystals waiting to explode and impale you. They were tentacular horrors of the abyss, on the precipice of ripping out of their glass prisons, eager to hold our feeble world in the vices of their cruel grip. I'm surprised Miss Gauger, a Seattle native and artist herself, didn't have more of an appreciation for Chihuly. You'd think one of the editors of Ectomo, a blog with recurrent posts concerning cephalopods,tentacled horrors and Cthulu, would at least be slightly intrigued by such sculptures as these.









After taking you through a hall with a ceiling filled with Chihuly's pieces (which was very reminiscent of the "Glass Bridge" in Tacoma, WA), the viewer's ride ended with
the garden landscape sculpture "Mille Fiori". It was a parade of Chihuly's sculpture stretched down the long hall, illuminating the space with its opulence. It was the perfect way to end the show. Of course, afterwards you were funneled into the gift shop where quelle suprise, you could buy your very own original Chihuly. They were of course, smaller scale pieces, no where near the grandeur of "Mille Fiori", but still, it served as a reminder of the true commercial nature of Chihuly's work. But to be fair, even artists have to eat. I should know, I live with one.

I enjoyed the show. Most of the pieces included were beautiful, and not to "commercial" in nature or display. The lighting was amazing, pieces that were lit externally appeared to be lit from within, and how they did glow. They layout made sense for the shows expected turn out, but like my mother, I heard another woman whispering "I feel like I'm at Disney Land." It was as if the whole show was just enough to keep you entertained as you waited in line, waiting for the real ride, which in this case, was the gift shop. This was unfortunate, but so many of the pieces and installations were so beautiful and had such forceful visual and physical presences that it made it entirely possible for me to enjoy myself. There was so much I didn't cover in terms of the objects on display, this post largely ignored the pieces that so closely resembled what you could purchase in the gift shop. I would suggest that you go and visit for yourself, but unfortunately tickets for the show are sold out for Friday, Saturday and Sunday of its closing weekend. But if you just can't get enough, there is in fact a group on flickr dedicated to the show, featuring a cornucopia of beautiful photographs of the pieces included in the exhibition.

museum mondays [the baer essentials]

Today, as I was waiting for some print outs of out blank accession sheets at the Mills College Art Museum, my sweet supervisor introduced my to the Baer Faxt. The Baer Faxt is more or less art world gossip that one receives via e-mail; if you're willing to pay for it, of course. Though if tabloids have taught us anything, it's that the best gossip ain't free. Just cheap. But I digress.




From September 19, 2008, Issue # 674 :

"- de Pury & Luxembourg have sold what they call the “first human work of art “ by Wim Delvoye for 150,000 euros to Rik Reinking, a Hamburg collector. The work is a tattoo on the back of a man."

Cheers to you Mister Reinking, for investing in a type specimen of an art form that has been important both anthropologically and art historically for the past 5,000 years! I can only hope that the number of like minded individuals who consider tattoo to be an important as well as fine art continues to increase.

questionable content

Few video game visuals have held sway outside of the context of their individual programs or networks of subcultures. However, the Question Mark Block introduced in the video game Super Mario over twenty years ago has become an icon that even extends its influence into the realm of street art. My first encounter with this was when Eric kindly pointed these works out to me some time ago. This piece is on the sidewalk at the corner of College and Broadway, across the street from California College of Arts. There are a few others in our neighborhood.

This piece is just about a block away, on Broadway by 52nd street (there's one other that I know of on Martin Luther King). Though it's a sticker, not actually painted on the side of the building. I love the juxtaposition of the 8-bit graphic and the organic forms of the flowers. The advertisement serves as a constant reminder of the urban environment.

Apparently, this artist isn't the first to utilize the iconic Question Mark Block. Street artist Posterchild originally used the image in his works to comment on the use of public spaces for advertisements but not for art. The blocks were intended to have a positive effect on their viewers, "to bring a smile to people's faces, to get them to connect with their neighbours, to bring colour into an otherwise gray urban landscape." Posterchild inadvertently started an informal international art project where he encouraged others to follow his example and construct 3-D question mark blocks and post them in their own neighborhoods. The project is chronicled here, which has a number of great photos as well as a tutorial for making your own question blocks.

Unfortunately, the project was not well received in the small town of Ravenna, Ohio, where the fire department and bomb squad were called to inspect a series of blocks that a group of young women had produced. More on that can be found here, and here. Aside from this incident, the project seems to be generally well received. The ability to convert a simple graphic into a symbol for rallying public awareness and engendering positivity is undeniably admirable. Though I do not know if the question mark blocks in my neighborhood were inspired by or affiliated with Posterchild's project, the splash of color in my dull gray urban world certainly made me smile. Posterchild has even inspired me to make my own block. Stay tuned for its debut! But in the meantime, check out these other elements of interest :





Throw an actual Mario party!

& More Mario art on Kotaku.

examining the inevitable

This is a more "formal" (by formal, I mean excerpts of a short evaluation I have turned in for grading) review of an exhibit I visited recently. This exhibit is Christine Wetheim's collaborative project, the Plastic Exploding Inevitable, currently being viewed at the Right Window Gallery in San Francisco. The Right Window is an unusual gallery in that it intends for visitors to view the art through the window off the street instead of inviting them into a traditional gallery space that might permit the viewer to have more personal interactions with the art. However, despite the points of contention created b the small space, and the separation imposed upon the viewer and the art by the nature of the gallery, Wetheim’s little installation makes a big impression.

The Plastic Exploding Inevitable (PEI),is a sub-reef of the larger Institute for Figuring's Crochet Coral Reef project. PEI is a daughter of the Toxic Reef, also known as Bikini Atoll. Many of the reefs that Crochet Reef is composed of feature forms that have been constructed out of yarn, but PEI is constructed primarily out of garbage such as plastic bags, bottles, and other recycled materials. While this allows the contributing artists to make a potent statement concerning the destruction of the reefs due to our thoughtless and unsustainable methods of waste disposal, in the context of the Right Window it seriously hindered the potential impact of the piece.

PEI is an interesting, eye catching work that is capable of immediately drawing the viewer's attention to it just with its vibrant color scheme. However, at a glance through the glass at the Right Window, the art could easily be mistaken for a pile of garbage. This is not because of the art itself, but because of its presentation in the gallery space. All of the pieces of PEI that are not hung from the ceiling or the gallery wall are presented upon a flat and narrow surface, resulting in the majority of the pieces occupying the same plane. This arrangement unfortunately results in PEI appearing to be nothing more than the materials it is composed of, trash seemingly strewn behind the window. This is a double-edged sword in a way, as this colorful rubbish is capable of simultaneously attracting and repelling the viewer.

One only has to stop in and examine the work a little closer to discover that it is so much more than packing peanuts, plastic bottles and traffic cones. The question is, how many would stop to examine what initially appears to be a slough of garbage? As the Right Window intends viewers to examine the works directly from the window, they must first succeed at capturing and retaining the viewer, whom in many cases is simply the layperson passing by with no prior knowledge of the Crochet Coral Reef and the statements it endeavors to make. For this reason, initial presentation is imperative, if Wetheim wishes to attract and inform others of the Crochet Coral Reef and the messages it carries.

The Crochet Coral Reef is an ambitious project in all of its manifestations, especially PEI as it is presented at the Right Window. Due to the limited space allocated to PEI at this location, the art piece must convey its message of environmentalism with its feminist undercurrent with concise visual language that packs a punch. If the viewer is able and willing to look past initial appearances, PEI does just that. Wetheim succeeds admirably in illustrating the purpose of a grandiose project with only a small space and but a piece of the puzzle. For while the Plastic Exploding Inevitable is a small part of the Crochet Coral Reef project, it is able to stand alone and make a strong statement concerning humanity’s negative impact on the natural wonder of coral reefs. It communicates with the viewer with its strong aesthetic, and is aided by the edifying didactics included by Wetheim.

Despite the challenges that result from installation requirements at the unique gallery space at the Right Window, the Plastic Exploding Inevitable succeeds in providing the viewer with art that is both intriguing and informative. The Wetheim sisters and all of the contributing artists involved in the Crochet Coral Reef expose us to the consequences of our actions in all of the manifestations of the project, and encourage each and every one of us to be aware, and to take action to preserve all that we have to lose.

Post Script : I am immensely intrigued by the Crochet Coral Reef project. Their website is incredibly informative, and invites any textile artists with an interest in their endeavor to join them and submit their own crocheted corals. Also, somehow or other, I discovered this blog through them, which features a wonderful tutorial on how to make your own yarn out of plastic! I look forward to delving more into textile art and craft as "high art" in the future.