“Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry” was award the US Documentary Special Jury Prize for Spirit of Defiance at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival and the audience flipped the filmmaker off.
The other day, at a small cocktail party, a literary agent told me that he liked writers who knew and wrote for their audience. Our conversation soon sputtered out because I didn’t see any value in disagreeing with him. A few minutes later, a writer confided that he would keep working on a manuscript only if he could morally, ethically and esthetically justify what he was doing. For each of them the work itself could never be justification enough. It had to appeal to a larger power.
As I sometimes — or quite a lot of the time — find myself disposed to avoid the demands of work and household, my favorite dodge is perusing much read books for those “juicy” parts that I’ve doted over for years. Samuel Beckett’s Murphy is just the right book for this kind of time wasting: It’s a novel about an indolent, hapless, emotionally paralyzed man. He’s a loner, out of step with the world, torn between desire for his mistress and the wish to sink further in a self-involved fantasy world. The eponymous un-hero Murphy (he really can’t be called an anti-hero as his chief aspiration — a catatonic state achieved by rocking in his rocking chair — barely qualifies as anti-anything) is securely held by what Blake called “mind forg’d manacles.”
This week, Christian Marclay’s unoriginal(?) “The Clock,” art in post-revolution Egypt, power of Renaissance portraiture, GIF trends, Gagosian troubles, Adolph Gottlieb’s words in 1966 and more.
I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the extraordinary June Leaf show before it closes at the Edward Thorp Gallery on February 4, 2012.
I set out with the intention of seeing these shows, so I wouldn’t call it synchronicity, but the simultaneous exhibitions of David Goerk and Martha Clippinger in the same building, just one floor apart, did get me thinking about art making that is concerned with the realm between painting and sculpture — from della Robbia’s bas reliefs to early modernism (Hans Arp) to contemporary art (Stuart Arends, Ellsworth Kelly, Jim Lee, and Richard Tuttle).
Somehow I missed the 16,400 internet posts reporting that the ill-fated luxury liner, Costa Concordia — presumably still on its side in the waters off Tuscany’s Isola del Giglio — was the setting for the first act of Jean-Luc Godard’s latest feature, Film Socialisme (2010).
Tomorrow, the doors of 319 Scholes open for the public unveiling of the 48-hour projects that were given birth to during Art Hack Day at the East Williamsburg art/tech space.
Yesterday, Twitter announced that it will start censoring tweets in certain countries as a concession to governments as the service expands globally. Some, including Ai Weiwei, are not happy.
Today is my last day at Hyperallergic, and as much as I hate saying goodbyes, I can’t leave without reflecting on the amazing journey this has been.
LOS ANGELES — Standing atop buildings in skyscraper-bound cities like New York and Hong Kong, we’re bound to look out. And across. And somewhat downward. But never down, like straight down. Detroit-based photographer Dennis Maitland took a different approach.
Creative Time jumps on the band wagon and puts their slave labor, we mean interns to work doing their part for the meme.