We are living in our own reality shows. Those of us who are spending more and more time on social media, or on blogs, regularly updating our “friends” about our daily activities know the feeling. And, since these new media companies are owned and controlled by corporations, these reality shows of ours are ultimately as problematic as any on the Bravo TV network.
This is an artist’s essay that explores some of the ideas put forward in Powers’ three-part essay, “Art, Not Suicide,” published earlier this week. -Ed. Note
Lost and hungry is not a good combination. Imagine driving in an unfamiliar place, stomach growling … many miles ago you’ve dropped all your pretenses about needing to eat all-organic food … the urgency of hunger is upon you … suddenly you see it, a huge billboard with the words: MCDONALD’S NEXT EXIT. At that moment, you’re probably not thinking about the fact that it’s typeset in Arial, has no consideration for negative space, lacks attractive colors or that it’s just not a very nice-looking billboard. No, all you see, blazing from atop the trees and urban wasteland, is a glorious sign from God telling you all you need to know at that very moment.
Sometimes I have strange feelings for my computer. In the 13 years since I set up an email account, I have had a wide ranging series of emotional experiences while facing a screen. In the early days of email, I wrote long letters to friends, like the ones I used to write by hand and send through the mail. I received long letters too: messages of friendship and love and the occasional breakup, though these missives have become increasingly more brief and less frequent since Facebook …
It started in Paris during the second week of March. When New York-based artist and famed fashion photographer Terry Richardson ran into the Danish model Rie Rasmussen at a fashion event, he found himself confronted by the latter. According to Rasmussen, she accused him of abusing his power to exploit young models for his overtly sexual images, upon which Richardson fled the scene and later called her agency to complain. This in turn prompted Rasmussen to vent more publicly.
I’m trying to sleep at the Whitney. I rest on a white pillow, a white bath towel covering me. On my head I wear a plastic grocery store bag, the handles tied under my chin, two rubber bands on either side of my head cinching the plastic into a pair of ears. I’m supposed to be a mouse.
Song Zhuang is basically a dusty main road. The village’s one bus stop straddles the big street with a rusty orange awning on either side; one sides goes back to the city, the other runs still farther out to smaller villages. On either side of the road stretch art galleries, studio complexes and art supply stores, complete with figures stretching enormous canvases outside on the sidewalk, ready for sale inside. If you thought Chelsea was something along the lines of an art mass production machine, think again.
Perhaps the most frustrating thing about being an art historian is being asked, “Who is your favorite artist?” or “What is your favorite kind of art?” These questions are always difficult for me to answer honestly in less than few sentences. Perhaps because I am a talker, or because on any given day or even hour, my answer may be different. My frustration heightens with the questioner’s following claim, “Impressionism is my favorite.” Honestly, this statement just pisses me off more than anything else about being an art historian.
The age of celebrity art has dawned and no one is a better example of that high-end marriage between the haves and the haves than pop singer Lady Gaga. It has been a long time coming for the maven of the dancefloor, whose every move feels like a tribute to 1990s club kid culture. Yet, her recent collaborations with Francesco Vezzoli and Terence Koh raises the question, does she desperately need an art teacher?
Arts institutions often tell us to expect great things from their inhabitants. Take the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for (an extreme) example. As you approach it on Fifth Ave, the first thing you see is a monumental stair case leading up to huge doorways flanked by towering columns.
If you make it up the two dozen steps, past the columns, doors, and security, you enter a vast breathtaking atrium. This is your pre-launch prep station.
Get the blog sent to your Inbox
Hyperallergic LABS
Lyra: I didn’t expect to love the Baldessari (now on view at LACMA) but it’s definitely worth seeing. I’d never seen a...
Stephanie Gokhman: Love these recommendations! Makes me want to stop working and start watching Fallen Angels immediately!
Jeremy Sapienza: Oh I just have a thing for old buildings. I like them saved if at all possible or useful, but I know you can’t...
An Xiao: This is a great list, Dylan! Adding to my Netflix queue.
Jeffrey: Haha, excellent! Weekend plans: set. Plus, the vodka might get me through the “scenario where he is playing himself...
About
Advertise
Contact
Newsletter
Podcast
Feed
|
Facebook
Twitter
Tumblr
Original material is licensed under a Creative Commons License permitting non-commercial sharing with attribution.
Subscribe to our 
Subscribe to our 
Follow us on 
Follow us on 
