Bicycle Chandelier

More Ai Weiwei.  Who knows something about blogs.

Chandelier sculpture from the 2015 exhibition at the Royal Academy in London.

 Constructed from beaded bicycle frames.

 Medium of mobility, not-quite-pedestrian, quotidian symbol of China, dripping with faux crystal.

Women to women

That night, we went to see the Sa Dance Company perform.  The house was full and performance was full to bursting with life – streaks of color and movement that simultaneously pulse with celestial abandon and the down-to-the-finger precision of Indian dance.  So who am I to talk about Indian dance tradition? Nobody.  But it was fab to see this group of mostly amateur but highly trained and experienced women cover ground from strict classicism to Bollywood exuberance.

Then on Sunday we went to the Kara Walker “A Subtlety” exhibition at the Domino Sugar Factory in Williamsburg. As much great stuff as we'd read about this, it was more amazing than we’d dared expect.

The full title was: "A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby an Homage to the unpaid and overworked Artisans who have refined our Sweet tastes from the cane fields to the Kitchens of the New World on the Occasion of the demolition of the Domino Sugar Refining Plant."

Sugar baby, tar baby, Sugar Mammie Sphinx - sugar and molasses sculptures standing, melting, decaying and laying in wait, accusing and celebrating and remembering the people who worked, lived, and died in the sugar harvesting & refining industries. 

A history that stretches from the triangle of trade in slave, cash, and cane cargo from Europe to Africa to the Americas and back finds one end in this defunct Domino plant in Williamsburg, up and running until less than a decade ago.

There's so much written out there that I feel I can't add a lot to the conversation, especially since it's scarcely my story to tell.

There was a performance artist there, in green and black tiger print spandex, with a 'hidden' videographer (I didn't see him until later) getting footage of people's reactions to her as she walked the space.

At one point after she'd been there I don't know how long she let out a piercing scream standing in front of the sphinx who dominated the space (and most of the coverage of the exhibition).

She had a partner (also in spandex, black and yellow I think), who gave a simultaneous scream - no words, just an outcry - from the other end of the sphinx sculpture.

I don't know who they are or anything about them.  It wasn't this guy, who seems to have done something along similar lines, but including verbal statement and follow-up. But they were there. They were there on that day, as this art work was there, as generations of factory work happened there, and the work that built this place - this culture, this nation, this economy - happened, in the physical universe, for better and/or for worse, for a few hundred years.

Weight of the World

Since the recent reports on Global Climate, and the not-coincidental Civilians show The Great Immensity at the Public, I've been thinking a lot about the Adrián Villar Rojas exhibition we caught at the Serpentine last year, Today, We Reboot the Planet.

The floor of the gallery consisted (for this exhibition) of bricks fabricated from native clay in the artist's home country of Argentina.  The bricks were laid without mortar, which meant that they clinked against the sub-floor and each other when people walked on them, creating a constant descant of sound, and conveying the shaky ground we all walk in this pivotal moment of high-stakes environmental poker.

Clay was his primary medium throughout, most prominently in the central image of an elephant bearing the weight of the building - and, as I read the sculpture, bearing up under the weight of development (another kind of 'building'), industry and imperialism with their interlocking versions of environmental effrontery.

A central studio with stained glass gable windows contained dozens of smaller sculptures, also mainly fired clay, with other media, including found objects, mixed in.

Maybe you'll forgive me if I admit that this one, even with its explicit connection to the earth in the form of farm and gardening implements, reminds me of Marvin the Martian.

Happy May Day.

The Sandcastle Metaphor

Beautiful, Brilliant, Brutal.

Chad Wright's Master Plan series.

The Sandcastle Metaphor gets the (Sub)Urban Planning treatment.

Development, speculation, sprawl, environmental shifts, child's play, the American Dream.

Thanks to Colossal, which also has a good piece about the Xu Bing exhibit at Mass MoCA.

As it happens, Cory and I had our Fancy Wilco Dinner at Solid Sound a couple weeks ago in that room under those giant Phoenix sculptures.  But that's another box of wine...

Winter into Spring

In Madison Square Park

Last from London

Well, for now anyway...

One last photo montage video from London.  It's a little longer than the others, but it's split into two parts, so that may help.  Think of it as an A Side and a B Side.

I had to resort to YouTube for this, but I was able improve the resolution a bit.  Enjoy.

A lot of this is pretty self explanatory - don't think you need me to say much about Big Ben, Westminster, the Houses of Parliament, or Richard the Lionheart.  I do want to mention, especially for the Rodin fans out there, the juxtaposition of the Burghers of Calais in the shadow of Parliament (as opposed to casts I've seen at the Rodin Museums in Paris and Philadelphia, and the Metropolitan Museum in New York, all of which I have since found were cast after this one in London).  The placement in Victoria Tower Gardens is poignant in that these French business leaders and legal authorities are shadowed by one of the most important legislative structures in the Western World; and it calls to mind their story - offered as a sacrifice to save the citizens of Calais from Edward III's siege of their city.  (Remember Edward III's hunting palace from an earlier post, and the last video?)

It's worth mentioning are a couple of light art pieces from the Tate Modern that were as photogenic as they were engaging:

• Lis Rhodes' Light Music was the setting for the shots that come near the end of the first song.  It was part of the Tanks portion of the Tate Modern - which is amazeballs and you should definitely go there.  I think that Light Music has closed up and moved out of the space, but we were lucky to catch it while we were there.  The projectors practically dared you not to walk in and interact with the light.  Luminous and irresistible. 

• The sequence about halfway through featuring two light tables in the room with white walls is made up of shots of an Alfredo Jaar piece called Lament of the Images.  He's looking at the way people can be so saturated with media images (and words) that they can be blinded by the excess: so many images flood ones view that one stops seeing the content of what is actually being shown.  That blindness is revealed in that installation (as I interpret it) by the light that floods the room as the light tables spread apart (the tables become a light source, illuminating the people, objects, and walls themselves, but the light itself ceases to be an object of attention), and conversely by the darkness that pervades when the tables close in together (the beams of light become focal, but the darkness literally prevents one from seeing around it).  Beautiful, simple, this piece had a powerful, magnetic draw, and I also enjoyed the lucky arrival of a school group when I went back into the room to grab these shots.

Also part of the Tanks was Suzanne Lacy's The Crystal Quilt.  My photographs don't remotely do justice to the complex power of that brilliantly feminist activist piece [which had the added interest, to me, of having originated in Minneapolis, a city (and a landscape) dear to my heart, woven into this contemporary art exhibit in London].  The video embedded in that link does a better job, but if you come across an exhibition of The Crystal Quilt anywhere, you really owe it to yourself to check it out.

And I can't sign off without mentioning the shots from the Churchill War Rooms - including the color-coded phones, his cabinet meeting room, and the map room complete with a caricature of Hitler penciled into the middle of the Atlantic.  Fascinating. 

And then undercutting any sort of heightened thoughts or reflections on the living memory of War in London, and how vastly it differs from a sense of war in New York, we have shots of the Sherlock Holmes pub which I took for my Sherlock-fan nephew, Mols getting ready for her kayak final test in her wet suit, and shots of our time in Shoreditch/High Street.  All of which was fantastic!

As for the music: why can't Rudie fail?  Just because.

More Prague

Here is another set of Prague pix. Went with some funkier music this time around, partly because, irrespective of the fact that this city is wildly historical, jam-packed with churches and has beauty from every age anywhere you turn, it doesn't take itself terribly seriously and has a long and proud party tradition. (And an extremely powerful connection to rock and pop music. Seriously. Did you see Tom Stoppard's Rock and Roll? Were you aware that Vaclav Havel proposed Frank Zappa to be the official U.S. cultural envoy in the early '90s?)

But mostly I went with the funkitude because our hosts Kristin and Ondrej like the music. Take a look and listen if you have a spare 6 minutes.
Untitled from nycmick on Vimeo.

Heard from Kristin the other day, after the first slide show went up. As it happened, and very apropos my post earlier this month, she had been to a couple of events where the Dalai Lama was speaking that day. (She's a pretty amazing person and does some pretty amazing things on a regular basis. In case that wasn't already clear.) She shared what she found to be the most interesting thing he had to say: "Action is more important than prayer or wishful thinking."

Amen, sister.

The shots in this viddy are from our second day in Prague. The Eiffel Tower looking thing that starts you off is the Petrin tower, built two years after Eiffel did his thing in Paris and it's the same altitude - if you factor in the mountain it's standing on. Many of the opening shots are from the top of that tower, and there are also a bunch from a tour of the Prague Castle, including the Valdstein/Wallenstein Gardens, the Loretta and Capuchin Monestery (home of some truly astounding beer - in a world where excellent beer flows freely), more locations from the Amadeus shoot (look - there's the exterior for Wolfy and Stanzie's apartment!) and our own private wanderings. Enjoy.

His Goal in Life...

...is to be an Echo, of course. (It's well known to all the visitors of Solid Sound.)

Which is also the name of the Jaume Plensa sculpture that's been gracing Madison Square Park for the last few months.

As in Echo and Narcissus. As in from the Greek myth of the beautiful nymph who is cursed to be able only to repeat what others say. Whose last day of residence in the park is tomorrow.

It's been a great sort of up-from-the-ground, "what's that?!" addition to the area, in my opinion. Little bit of mystery, little bit of mythology. If you haven't seen it and you're around, maybe run by and pay a visit.

And it's one of the corollaries of public art that it doesn't always get to stick around forever. And this Echo's farewell may not be as heartbreaking as the one she gave Narcissus, but it does mean that we won't be able to have this scene any more.

Or this one:

And with that, I give you a lovely little viddy of the song that gave this post its title. Enjoy.

Ai Weiwei

You've been following the Ai Weiwei story, right? Artist and dissident in China, detained under conditions somewhere between house arrest and imprisonment this spring, recently released (well, sort of; he's still under surveillance and under indictment and can't leave the country without permission) but under a gag order.

The news today is that Ai has accepted a lecturing post in Berlin. He'll go there if he can, but it depends on the Chinese officials permitting him to, unless he goes the full-on refugee/expat route and defects under cover of darkness or something. Which would be pretty out of character, I think.

Meanwhile here are some shots of Ai's beautiful sculpture series of the Chinese Zodiac figures that is by the fountain at the Plaza.

Here's to bold artists everywhere.

Long Weekend

Beautiful day in New York today: hot, sunny, mimosa-worthy; kind of perfect for what is treated as the unmeteorological-yet-quite-official First Weekend of Summer.

Relaxing morning followed by a nice walk to brunch followed by a lingering and even nicer walk to run some errands and now we're back in Chelsea listening to Django Reinhardt and about to get ready for a Sweet 17 birthday party for one of Cory's clan.

Very sad to read about Gil Scott-Heron last night. He had a hard life in a lot of ways, but did some very good, very important work. Very happy to have shared some time on this earth with him.

For him and for the day, here are a couple shots of a sculpture in a park in San Francisco - called Ecstasy in its current incarnation, it's a repurposed and reclaimed piece that Karen Cusolito and Dan Das Mann originally did for a huge Burning Man project. Fortunate to have crossed paths with this beautiful work while it was out in public.

SF MoMA

Heaven is in the Details

Well, you knew this day was coming. This was a pretty churchy trip, and eventually we made it to the most famous Church of them all. (Well, other than that one in Rome.)

Notre Dame de Paris. Nearly 200 years in the making, many hundreds more as a gothic inspiration.

They say that heaven is in the details. Lately, I've taken that to mean that if you want to get to the crux of the thing, anything, look closer. See the big picture, sure, but keep looking until you see the things that go into it.

I would say that that approach works particularly well at a place like this cathedral. It has survived the Hugenots, the Revolution(s), Napoleon, the Commune, the Nazis and, well, just hundreds and hundreds of years. And it is Massive.

And awe-inspiring.

And ornate.

And see, just in these few images so far - the details start to emerge and tell a story that has more impact than what happens if you just go and get overwhelmed by this Big Huge Obligation of a Church. You notice the way the vast Rose window works from the outside, and you see the light pouring through it from the inside. You take in the Holy Mother ("Notre Dame" refers to her, after all) with her baby, flanked by angels in the front window. You might take a look at some of the other 36 (!) representations of her in and around the Cathedral. You look at the other figures sculpted into and onto the edifice.

And then you climb up to the top.

The way that happens is that you climb a bunch of stairs and then they make you wait in a holding area (which also serves as a gift shop, of course! They wouldn't want you to miss a chance to buy stuff.) until enough time has passed that some of the people already up there have gone back down, then you climb a whole BIG bunch of more stairs. We positioned ourselves so that we were at the front of the line when they opened up the door, so we wouldn't get caught behind any slowpokes, and Cory took the opportunity to charge up those steps. She seriously was on a mission. By the time we were about halfway up, it was she and I and one other guy who decided to keep up with us, and the rest of our group was way back behind.

And of course once we made it, Paris was there to greet us.

Sacre Coeur through the fog.

And the gargoyles were, if anything, even more amazing than I'd imagined.

Those of you who know your Gothic architecture (I, of course, am now an expert on Gothic architecture, having read at least two online articles and a few tourbook entries) realize that most of these guys are actually chimeras, rather than gargoyles (which are only properly so called when they function as water spouts) and that they were added as part of a 19th Century renovation.

What's incredible to me is how many individual treatments there are - each with its own character and, again, its depth of detail. This one may be the most famous, situated to greet you as you emerge from the stairs, and having been so often referenced in other art works. (Including, my nephew was quick to point out, The Simpsons.)

So many characters, each one unique. These are all full color photos, by the way (though that teaser from the earlier post was a B&W)

Now that you're fully involved in attending to details, you're surely wondering something along the lines of "Hey... wait a minute! If this was such a gray day, what's up with that blue sky and those cottony nuages in the establishing shot for this entry?"
Well, you caught me. We did stop by the Cathedral on two separate days. on Saturday, when it was bright and sunny, we took in the outside, and strolled through the sanctuary (that's also why the colors in the stained glass are so vibrant.) On the day we went to the top, Paris was muted by clouds.

Here are a few 'true gargoyles' from both days, with their functions as drain spouts still active.

One other thing before I go. Compare this last shot with the other two images of the most iconic chimera in this series (we'll call him "Moe") See how he changes depending on the light, on the juxtaposition with the other figures, or with the horizon and Sacre Coeur.

It's a pretty nifty world. Look closer.