Lessons in Peripatetics
Lessons in Peripatetics
orange you glad
bag-o-art, photographed just prior to being shipped to Memphis for my first solo show:
Wish you were here
June 6th at Material
featuring the curatorial stylings of Lauren Kennedy
ten things twenty one
1. The only thing that separates a mess of seemingly disparate
observations and a song is a moment of excessive confidence. As time
goes on words and ideas begin to catch and gather around the original
suspiciously arbitrary seeds of inspiration. There are times when I
must admit that all the verse has in common with the chorus is that
they both came out of my imagination, but isn’t that enough?
-Andrew bird uses coded language too talk about art, especially, i think, installation art.
2. "the wind is made of wolves"
-the crack-addled woman who lives in the park behind my house is fond of shouting this around dusk. i'm beginning to think she might know what she's ranting about.
3.
4. Excerpt: On climbing Table Mountain
-Andrew bird uses coded language too talk about art, especially, i think, installation art.
2. "the wind is made of wolves"
-the crack-addled woman who lives in the park behind my house is fond of shouting this around dusk. i'm beginning to think she might know what she's ranting about.
3.
i don't dust.
4. Excerpt: On climbing Table Mountain
“The view is worth the work” they said. “You’ll be so proud of yourself when you make it to the top and gaze down on the ocean with the city sprawled out below.” No one mentioned the cloud that would descend on the mountain just as we reached the torturous vertical switchbacks. No one mentioned the cloying moisture that would lick my cheeks and heavy my underwear, causing me to confuse cloud water with sweat - water that dehydrates; the ocean on top of a mountain. Did I wet myself? No one mentioned the cloud. I couldn’t even see anything. Just the cloud that no one mentioned. Then I stumbled over the peak, having ascended something close to a million feet somewhat against my will. Where was the theme from Rocky? Where was the cooler of neon-colored sports drink? Where were the adoring fans, the tickertape, that wide ribbon that they stretch across finish lines that attractive specimens burst in slow motion with their torsos, arms akimbo and faces gorgeously anguished? As I groped about in the everywhere whiteness, exhausted and panting, the cable car that stretches from the base of the mountain to the peak (accomplishing in four minutes what took me three hours) lurched up over the cliff. Then a fatty in a fanny pack rolled out of the cable car, wiped some ding dong crumbs from one of her chins, and exclaimed “That was exhilarating!”
5.
the greatest view in all of southern africa
6. - 10.
monument to Cecil J. Rhodes, architect of apartheid
"Your Hinterland is There"
national gallery, cape town: i think it's ok to laugh...
I highly recommend the Cape Town branch of the South African National Gallery. Not only does it smell like a nursing home cafeteria, but it houses such gems as these:
creepy disembodied baby head on a velvet pillow in an exhibition on 'Romantic Childhood'
great Tsonga beadwork drawings
these skirted beaded cylinders. i hope the label was correct, because it identified them only as 'children.'
this monument to SMUT(s) at the entrance, which was especially clever during the Marlene Dumas exhibition. those crazy curators! it's like an episode of Hee-Haw up in here! in the background is a scrolling marquee that might be mistaken for a Jenny Holzer installation. it's actually a completely functional informational tool that turns Holzer's work on it's head. daffy!
creepy disembodied baby head on a velvet pillow in an exhibition on 'Romantic Childhood'
great Tsonga beadwork drawings
these skirted beaded cylinders. i hope the label was correct, because it identified them only as 'children.'
this monument to SMUT(s) at the entrance, which was especially clever during the Marlene Dumas exhibition. those crazy curators! it's like an episode of Hee-Haw up in here! in the background is a scrolling marquee that might be mistaken for a Jenny Holzer installation. it's actually a completely functional informational tool that turns Holzer's work on it's head. daffy!
ten things twenty
1.
2. Tell me Pablo, how do you make love to a cube?
-Modigliani on Picasso (supposedly)
3. The locals in (name of locality to which tourists flock) think its really quite funny when a foreigner tries to eat/drink (name of objectively delicious, culturally specific local foodstuff/beverage). Hilarity ensues when the tourist attempts to prove his/her cosmopolitan attitude by partaking in (foodstuff/beverage) with the locals. The people of (name of locality) are known for their humor, so it’s not uncommon for the tourist not to receive a warning as to the extremely spicy/bitter/salty/alcoholic nature of (foodstuff/beverage). Oh, brother, let me tell you - it is a laugh a minute. But the people of (name of locality) are also known for their hospitality and their warm, kindhearted nature, so it’s all in good fun. All in all, a trip to (locality) is not complete without at least a sampling of (foodstuff/beverage).
4. There was a time when I shut, locked, then double checked all the windows before going to bed. Although I live on the third floor of a security patrolled apartment building, I have seen a couple of muggings from my balcony and I have learned to never underestimate the resourcefulness and resolve of the hungry or the drug addled. Back then I strained for sleep in the still heat of my fortress, imagining a flock of bums clad in sophisticated climbing gear, repelling down my building and silently swinging through my bathroom window. Now I can smell the ocean when I lay in bed. I don’t know what made the difference. I’d like to think it’s linked to some sort of innate refusal to live in fear in my own community, but i think the shift might have happened for the same reason that I leave socks lying around the living room and loose my keys once a week.
5. a recent exchange with The Elderly, Whom I Love:
6.
Each of Checkers Cheese World's over 400 varieties of cheeses are carefully selected by our panel of experts. They attend cheese shows and seminars, research trends and visit countless local and international cheese makers to ensure that you have the best range of fine cheeses to choose from. And if you’re looking for a specific cheese but cannot find it, we’ll source it for you. With Checkers Cheese World, any time is cheese time!
8. Some of you might think that cage diving is glamorous, but it's not. Those of you who think this are probably actually thinking of cage dancing, which is completely different and, really, the fact that you would mingle the two in your mind says something shameful about you and where your mind is.
Cage diving is different. First of all, it hurts your neck, having to stay so close to the top of the cage like that in order to breathe. I should, actually, say that I did not cage dive, per se, but rather cage snorkeled since I am not dive certified. But, aside from being all mashed up at the top of the cage in order to suck air through a plastic tube, it's basically the same thing. Second of all, it's scary as all hell, and the sharks actually look much better from the boat. That's about it.
9.
2. Tell me Pablo, how do you make love to a cube?
-Modigliani on Picasso (supposedly)
3. The locals in (name of locality to which tourists flock) think its really quite funny when a foreigner tries to eat/drink (name of objectively delicious, culturally specific local foodstuff/beverage). Hilarity ensues when the tourist attempts to prove his/her cosmopolitan attitude by partaking in (foodstuff/beverage) with the locals. The people of (name of locality) are known for their humor, so it’s not uncommon for the tourist not to receive a warning as to the extremely spicy/bitter/salty/alcoholic nature of (foodstuff/beverage). Oh, brother, let me tell you - it is a laugh a minute. But the people of (name of locality) are also known for their hospitality and their warm, kindhearted nature, so it’s all in good fun. All in all, a trip to (locality) is not complete without at least a sampling of (foodstuff/beverage).
4. There was a time when I shut, locked, then double checked all the windows before going to bed. Although I live on the third floor of a security patrolled apartment building, I have seen a couple of muggings from my balcony and I have learned to never underestimate the resourcefulness and resolve of the hungry or the drug addled. Back then I strained for sleep in the still heat of my fortress, imagining a flock of bums clad in sophisticated climbing gear, repelling down my building and silently swinging through my bathroom window. Now I can smell the ocean when I lay in bed. I don’t know what made the difference. I’d like to think it’s linked to some sort of innate refusal to live in fear in my own community, but i think the shift might have happened for the same reason that I leave socks lying around the living room and loose my keys once a week.
5. a recent exchange with The Elderly, Whom I Love:
-Do you see lots of giraffes and things?
-I haven’t been out into the country yet, I’ve pretty much just been in the city so far.
-But have you seen any? Aren’t they just sort of walking around?
-Well it’s a pretty big city, so there aren’t many animals around...
-How do they keep them out? Did they build a fence or something?
-(sigh) Yes.
-(laughs) Must be a pretty big fence! I’d like to see that fence someday. You know, actually I was watching this thing on Oprah and she said they all just have the AIDS over there. Do they all just have the AIDS? The people, not the giraffes, I mean.
-Well, not everyone, but it is a prob...
-Is it because they’re all gay? Are they all just gay over there or what?
-Um, well. No. It’s more complicated than that.
-Well you stay away from them. You so much as hear a sneeze and you run the other way. Don’t even look them in the eye. The AIDS is the last thing you need right now.
-Yes, you’re probably right.
6.
My best friend from high school, Dan Forster, is amazing at drawing. He can look at something and represent it perfectly on paper. When we were sixteen we went on holiday to the South of France. At the beach he started to draw the view. ------- There is a very memorable scene in an Indiana Jones film. A skilled warrior wielding two huge gleaming swords swings them around in elaborate circles, threatening to kill Indiana. After this public display, Jones simply draws his gun, shoots him, and runs. ------ I could never compete with my friend at drawing, so I had to invent new rules. My solution (this was many years before I discovered Yoko Ono’s work): I drew two straight lines across the page, dividing it into thirds. I wrote ‘sky’ in the top part, ‘sea’ in the middle part and ‘sand’ in the bottom part: I realized in that instance that craft and skill can be overcome with an idea.7. Why would there be so many different cheeses if we weren’t supposed to eat them whenever we choose to? It was obviously meant for us to enjoy cheese from early in the morning until deep into the night. But where can you find all these cheeses in one place? Well, at Checkers and Checkers Hyper of course!
-Daniel Eatock
Each of Checkers Cheese World's over 400 varieties of cheeses are carefully selected by our panel of experts. They attend cheese shows and seminars, research trends and visit countless local and international cheese makers to ensure that you have the best range of fine cheeses to choose from. And if you’re looking for a specific cheese but cannot find it, we’ll source it for you. With Checkers Cheese World, any time is cheese time!
8. Some of you might think that cage diving is glamorous, but it's not. Those of you who think this are probably actually thinking of cage dancing, which is completely different and, really, the fact that you would mingle the two in your mind says something shameful about you and where your mind is.
Cage diving is different. First of all, it hurts your neck, having to stay so close to the top of the cage like that in order to breathe. I should, actually, say that I did not cage dive, per se, but rather cage snorkeled since I am not dive certified. But, aside from being all mashed up at the top of the cage in order to suck air through a plastic tube, it's basically the same thing. Second of all, it's scary as all hell, and the sharks actually look much better from the boat. That's about it.
9.
10. (thank you E.K.)
Scent Map: my apartment on long street to the ocean
bananas
metal
ravioli / the dusty smell of the very elderly
roses
grass
hot asphalt
vinegar
soil
leather
exhaust
yeast
air conditioning
asphalt
fried chicken
urine
grapes
concrete
salt water
metal
ravioli / the dusty smell of the very elderly
roses
grass
hot asphalt
vinegar
soil
leather
exhaust
yeast
air conditioning
asphalt
fried chicken
urine
grapes
concrete
salt water
one of these things...
is not like the others.
Review: Versace Eau de Parfum by Versace
by Chandler Burr
from Scent Notes in the NYTimes "The Moment" blog
I saw Donatella Versace on Italian television once when she was asked about her vision. With extravagant gestures, she cried, “Lusso, lusso, lusso!” (“luxury, luxury, luxury”), throwing her hands in the air as if seeding a catwalk with bits of cubic zirconia. Versace’s perfume licensee, EuroItalia, has faultlessly translated her taste into scent...
Review: Rodeny McMillian's Untitled (elipses) II
by James Scarborough
from artcritical.com
Rodney McMillian's work limns absence as an unmitigated presence. His take on absence is more sensuous than cerebral. He doesn't deconstruct the idea of absence and then rebuild it as a dialectical opposition, positing that what's not seen, felt, experienced is as significant, perhaps more so, as that which is. He waxes nostalgic..."chair" 2003, has a plain, lopsided, threadbare chair, sitting in a corner. It's not much to look at, yet it has a particular sanctity of place...As a repository and sum of former posteriors that have dented its cushions, of previous elbows that have grazed the armrests, the chair offers not a weedy patina of desuetude but an apotheosis of its former occupant.
Review: Bagel Bites
by Dave Allen
from McSweeney's Reviews of New Food
Only two things in this world deserve fist pumps: Arsenio Hall and Bagel Bites.
Bagel Bites are so good-sounding that sometimes I sing their name in a high-pitched voice like a singer in an '80s hair band. It gets me amped up to wait 20 minutes for them to cook because I don't have a microwave...Bagel Bites are so deceptively tiny that you can fit all nine of them on one of the small plates in the cupboard. So handy when you are watching Extra or Live With Regis and Kelly. No big heavy dinner plate to fumble with. And because it fits on the smaller plate, it's technically a snack, not dinner. That thought helps relieve some of the guilt of knowing that you are slowly poisoning yourself with bad afternoon TV and cancer-causing Frankenfoods. All in all, I'm mostly ashamed I ever purchase them, but I love the wild ride they take me on.
I'll give you a hint - one might take itself a bit too seriously .
Review: Versace Eau de Parfum by Versace
by Chandler Burr
from Scent Notes in the NYTimes "The Moment" blog
I saw Donatella Versace on Italian television once when she was asked about her vision. With extravagant gestures, she cried, “Lusso, lusso, lusso!” (“luxury, luxury, luxury”), throwing her hands in the air as if seeding a catwalk with bits of cubic zirconia. Versace’s perfume licensee, EuroItalia, has faultlessly translated her taste into scent...
Review: Rodeny McMillian's Untitled (elipses) II
by James Scarborough
from artcritical.com
Rodney McMillian's work limns absence as an unmitigated presence. His take on absence is more sensuous than cerebral. He doesn't deconstruct the idea of absence and then rebuild it as a dialectical opposition, positing that what's not seen, felt, experienced is as significant, perhaps more so, as that which is. He waxes nostalgic..."chair" 2003, has a plain, lopsided, threadbare chair, sitting in a corner. It's not much to look at, yet it has a particular sanctity of place...As a repository and sum of former posteriors that have dented its cushions, of previous elbows that have grazed the armrests, the chair offers not a weedy patina of desuetude but an apotheosis of its former occupant.
Review: Bagel Bites
by Dave Allen
from McSweeney's Reviews of New Food
Only two things in this world deserve fist pumps: Arsenio Hall and Bagel Bites.
Bagel Bites are so good-sounding that sometimes I sing their name in a high-pitched voice like a singer in an '80s hair band. It gets me amped up to wait 20 minutes for them to cook because I don't have a microwave...Bagel Bites are so deceptively tiny that you can fit all nine of them on one of the small plates in the cupboard. So handy when you are watching Extra or Live With Regis and Kelly. No big heavy dinner plate to fumble with. And because it fits on the smaller plate, it's technically a snack, not dinner. That thought helps relieve some of the guilt of knowing that you are slowly poisoning yourself with bad afternoon TV and cancer-causing Frankenfoods. All in all, I'm mostly ashamed I ever purchase them, but I love the wild ride they take me on.
I'll give you a hint - one might take itself a bit too seriously .
studio view: day i stopped counting
drawings for an installation:
thinking about Darger and Mark Pilgrim, the villagers I lived with in India, Stockholm Syndrome, and that preteen girl who sits in her room listening to “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely” on repeat while drawing hearts around pictures of Howie that she tore out of Tiger Beat.
ten things nineteen
1. overheard:
2.
3. i have never felt more athletic than i did when ice skating with my south african friends. they were falling all over the place, trying to keep their balance on the slick "devil water" and i was just laughing and laughing. then i did a triple sou cow. and made a field goal. Heart of Darkness, what?!
4. head-bare, un-locked even. shorn on a whim.
5. big shout out to all my peeps in the financial aid department of Indiana University. go Hoosiers.
6. my local grocery store, which is a total scene. people really get checked out, if you catch my drift. but no one really eyeballs other people. they size each other up based on the contents of their carts. twelve TV dinners and a can of kidney beans? walk on by. herb-infused olive oil, organic strawberries, and dental floss? ooh can i get your number, baby? meanwhile Freemasons Beyonce remixes bump from the massive speakers in the bakery, the disco balls in the wine aisle spin and spin, and i hide the beef jerky i just put in my cart under a wedge of camembert and bag of baby carrots.
7. i can't hear the ocean from my flat and i can only see a sliver of it between the skyscrapers. but at night if i open all the windows and turn out the lights i can smell it loud and clear.
8. working at the gallery, which sounds so glamorous. i love it when i have too say things like sorry, i can't make it to lunch. i'm at the gallery on thursday. some days it is all studio visits and long brunches with artists and Ziggy Stardust and gold foil screen print tees and Brie, but more often than not it's more like four hours of hot gluing plastic tubing to a sheet of newspaper followed by a few hours of sitting and staring and waiting for the phone to ring.
9.
10. The Collector (and the Art Mob), Terry Allen
-...and then they were all like 'what is your concept?'
and I was like 'um, I want to make paintings and sell them to tourists
for lots of money' and then they just looked at me and I was all 'what,
do you want me to say something about Foucault or some shit like that?'
-god, I'm sick of art talk. let's talk about something else.
-yeah. ok.
(pause)
-have you ever really been in love?
-yeah. ok.
(pause)
-have you ever really been in love?
2.
4. head-bare, un-locked even. shorn on a whim.
5. big shout out to all my peeps in the financial aid department of Indiana University. go Hoosiers.
6. my local grocery store, which is a total scene. people really get checked out, if you catch my drift. but no one really eyeballs other people. they size each other up based on the contents of their carts. twelve TV dinners and a can of kidney beans? walk on by. herb-infused olive oil, organic strawberries, and dental floss? ooh can i get your number, baby? meanwhile Freemasons Beyonce remixes bump from the massive speakers in the bakery, the disco balls in the wine aisle spin and spin, and i hide the beef jerky i just put in my cart under a wedge of camembert and bag of baby carrots.
7. i can't hear the ocean from my flat and i can only see a sliver of it between the skyscrapers. but at night if i open all the windows and turn out the lights i can smell it loud and clear.
8. working at the gallery, which sounds so glamorous. i love it when i have too say things like sorry, i can't make it to lunch. i'm at the gallery on thursday. some days it is all studio visits and long brunches with artists and Ziggy Stardust and gold foil screen print tees and Brie, but more often than not it's more like four hours of hot gluing plastic tubing to a sheet of newspaper followed by a few hours of sitting and staring and waiting for the phone to ring.
9.
boss: I know you didn't ask for pork on your sandwich, but I got it for you anyway. Did you eat it?
me: yeah
boss: I really just wanted to see if you were Jewish. Turns out, you're not.
me: yeah
boss: I really just wanted to see if you were Jewish. Turns out, you're not.
10. The Collector (and the Art Mob), Terry Allen
His lonely
is only
A blank space
in the hallway
On the wallway
Between the hanging
Of paintings
Of lonely
that ain't lonely
At all...
Well...the Art Mob's out tonight
Yeah...the Art Mob's out tonight
Ahhh...you better look good
Yeah...you better act right
'Cause,
the Art Mob's out tonight
(repeat)
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
is only
A blank space
in the hallway
On the wallway
Between the hanging
Of paintings
Of lonely
that ain't lonely
At all...
Well...the Art Mob's out tonight
Yeah...the Art Mob's out tonight
Ahhh...you better look good
Yeah...you better act right
'Cause,
the Art Mob's out tonight
(repeat)
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
How To: Mzoli's Meat
Come correct. You probably just left church, so hike your skirt up a few inches. Undo a couple of buttons. Trade the penny loafs for the gold patent leather kicks with neon laces. Your sunglasses should have brightly colored plastic frames and dark, dark lenses. At least a few things on your body should be shiny. Your earrings might involve feathers.
Cover your tracks. As in, if you haven't got your hair did in a while, wear a hat.
Don't bring your camera. This is the townships and you are probably white and a little bit scared.
Also, starting on Wednesday, if you hear a good song on the radio you should bite your lip and do a little two step and say something like "Oh, they're gonna be dancing to this at Mzoli's on Sunday."
Provisions can be bought from cars-cum-convenience-stores parked on the street: hot pap (which is similar to mashed potatoes, but made of cornmeal), a loaf of white bread (not for eating), paper folding fans. Cooldrinks can be purchased from the fridge in the house next to the braai(Black Label if you're one of the people, Vindhoek if you have something to prove).
If there isn't an empty table under the patio (there won't be) you need to find one and set it up by the street. You must cover it with faded vinyl SoCo tablecloths. Forget that chairs ever existed. You might be able to rustle up an umbrella.
First you buy your Meat from the butcher. Then you give it to the guys working the braai. Then you wait. They will call your number when the meat is ready, but there is no way you'll ever hear them. In the meantime, there will be music and dancing. The DJ will play popular American rap music so that while you dance you can talk about selling out and cultural imperialism and how, like, every single white person likes Mos Def. There will be an impromptu car show on the street. There will be a buckie backed up to the patio on which local hip-hop acts will perform and peddle their cd's. They will be pretty good, but you will be hungry.
A few hours later your ankles will hurt and your Meat will be ready. It will be loaded onto a large platter, steaks in the middle, chicken wings around the outside, and big vulgar spiral of sausages on top. You will carry it from the braai to your table, fending off grabby stranger hands on the way.
Everyone will dig in.
Absolutely NO SILVERWARE is to be used. You will rip and tear with wild abandon. Eat like an animal. Ravage the Meat. When the stress makes your teeth jostle loosely in their sockets take a big hunk of pap in your fingers, dip it in the Meat juice, and suck on it for a hot minute. Don't take your canines for granted. You will feel like a savage, but certainly not in a way that exoticizes or essentializes the locals. Your liberal arts education would not allow that.
After the Meat happens (which will take about three minutes) you will fall into a daze. Let the cruising lowriders hypnotize you as they creep past. You will be happy and tired and still a little sticky, even though you have wiped your face and fingers with slices of white bread. You will not stop the dusty children from snatching scraps from your empty platter. You will not kick at them as they sit under your table, sucking on chicken bones and tapping their shoeless feet on yours to the rhythm of the music. You will leave happy, and still full, three hours later.
also, I stole all these photos (see paragraph three). Thank you, The Internet.
the anxieties of influence
self portrait after Gericault's Raft of the Medusa
self portrait after Felix Gonzalez-Torres' Untitled (Placebo)