If in an idle moment you've ever wondered what domestic life must be like for me and MY, here's a hint. I leave it to commenters to determine who plays whom. It must be said that I'm exceedingly drunk just now and that serious stuff is forthcoming. Happy weekend, all!
Howdy, WaPo readers. If you're looking for the Rioult post, click here. For more art stuff, scroll down or click here. For published art stuff, click here and search for "capps". To disconnect, press 0, or simply hang up.
MORE: Hilariously, the online Style section offers a link to the Reliable Source column about Rioult—that's almost like actual Style reporting on local art news! Or maybe the RS is featured online wherever it's relevant, in which case . . . the Style section still sucks.
People keep asking, so I'll give the people what they want to hear: Walking home from Tom and Charles's place on Saturday night, someone fired a gun from a Volvo about a block from where I was standing. I know, I know, I've told these true tales of crime too often to believe them myself. But there I was, dropping toward the pavement and reaching for my phone and sort of awkwardly falling around to look at the car (which blew through a stop and hightailed out of Shaw), thinking to myself that it was anything but a gun, but I'm pretty sure that it was a gun, and the other guy down the block was also freaking out. Then I called Charles, who was nice enough to talk to me about continuity in the DC Comics universe until I had walked home. And then I called the police, who could give a shit, that is until they realized they'd already sent a car to the cross (Rhode Island and 10th or so), a gesture that they seemed to think was in itself like closing the case.
No more crime stories! If thugs want another post out of G.p, they're going to have to shoot me.
Recently Sommer and Yglesias publicly cast aspersions on my allergy to bananas, or more specifically, on the banana allergy phenomenon. Tragically, their ignorance speaks volumes. Dating back to the first botanical studies by Theophrastus in 400 BC, the scientific literature on bananas is extensive—as you would expect, given that banana production exceeds that of apples and citrus fruits combined—though the antigenicity of bananas was first described only 80 years ago. Nevertheless, recent studies show that bananas are, in fact, a frequent cause of food allergy.
As it happens, bananallergic individuals often often share an allergy to latex, avocados, melons, and kiwis (all of which share a similar group of proteins that provoke the IgE antibody). I'm not allergic to latex, but eating avocado causes my mouth and throat to itch (never enough to prevent me from eating delicious, delicious guacamole). Melons cause a lesser reaction. Kiwis are, of course, disgusting, and my allergy to them is purely moral.
Sharp words from Alexandra Silverthorne for Brian Knight's show at Studio One Eight:
Knight's photographs are not the DC that I know. A quick re-cap: 7 photographs of monuments, 2 store fronts (one in NW and one in NE), 2 photographs from the Metro, 2 photographs depicting other modes of transportation (a cab and a locked-up bike), 1 protest shot, and 1 "illusion of safety" photograph depicting the signage outside a lock store. Yeah, they would be great in a tourist's photo albumb, but an "insightful portrayal of our nation's capital"? Where's the culture? the people?Dunno about the culture or the people, but I'm certain Silverthorne could make her first million off this tourist package concept: promising the visiting photographer seven monument glimpses, two contrasting gentrification snapshots, two escalator views, two composition-y urban traffic pattern images, one protest look, and one ironic comment on our crime emergenc(ies). The preferred tour transportation: naturally.
Anyway, I don't know anything about that show. But Studio One Eight: This gallery is nearly never open, yet it's parked in Adams Morgan, where one pays the high rents to enjoy the foot traffic. To be in the stream, to be a destination on the promenade. I wouldn't argue with the DCAC–Studio One Eight––Asylum–falafal place Saturday afternoon crawl, if that were an option. Meh. (Since it's not, I'm perfectly content to stay in with my roommate and watch affirmative programming for young, sassy women.
(Speaking of the culture and the people and the District, has anyone else noticed that the city has made leaps and bounds toward becoming . . . a city? Cap Fringe shows run for another week; soon we're even getting a DC Roller Girl league. Gotta say, they're looking a little soft in some of these pictures. It's going to be some time before DC can take on the ladies from Bodymore, Murdaland—much less the original skaters. Unless the District starts does some smart recruiting in the off-season.)
New in the City Paper this week: A short item on E3, the painting symposium currently showing at Transformer, and a longer piece on the DC Free Recording Project. Excerpt:
"I'm not doing it to say, 'Hey, look at what a bunch of great fucking guys we are,'" [Ian] MacKaye says. "It's more like the Diggers," the late-'60s San Francisco guerrilla-theater group that operated a bread line. "It's just free because it's free."I managed to piss off MacKaye and the conversation quickly descended into Deadwood-ian levels of profanity. Guy could use a drink or something.
I should have some stuff on Cap Fringe this week, too, but I haven't seen the issue yet.
The Corcoran Gallery of Art
There's not much new news in Jacqueline Trescott's WaPo profile on the Corcoran's new helmsman, Paul Greenhalgh, the former president of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design. Dispatches from the front lines at New York & 17th have been few and far between—but no news doesn't always mean no news.
Recently, Greenhalgh hired Sarah Newman, formerly an intern with the National Gallery of Art, to fill the vacancy left by Stacey Schmidt. Schmidt, the associate curator of contemporary art, left the museum in March—just days after Greenhalgh made like Sherman for the Atlantic through the Corc's curatorial department.
But as of now, the status of Newman's position is "transitional." She will serve as assistant curator on a temporary basis through the end of August (at least). Newman isn't listed on the curators site (yet?).
Something else missing from the Corcoran's Web site: a future exhibition schedule. The "Joan of Arc" show is the only exhibition listed, running from November 2006 for some unknown duration. Someone recently pointed out to me that the High Museum's Morris Louis retrospective heads to San Diego from January to May 2007; this would be a perfect show for the Corc to pick up.
There is one exhibition we all know the Corcoran is planning to run: the 49th Corcoran Biennial. There's no news about that one, either—and by this time, 2004, the museum was spamming everyone with an inbox with news about Corc 48. Why the radio silence? The Corcoran has (tentatively) scheduled its next biennial for late 2008. The museum is skipping a year.
Now, obviously, the gallery is rebuilding its programming from the ground up, taking its time to develop an overall strategy. But the Biennial is Jonathan Binstock's bag, and how much tweaking does his operation need? Given that Greenhalgh has signaled his hopes to overhaul the Corc has a sort of experimental "think tank," the Corc 49th could be a critical division in that effort.
Consider also that the DC Office of the Deputy Mayor for Planning and Economic Development allocated $8 million in its fiscal year 2007 budget for improvements to the Corcoran's roof, with another $10 million proposed for fiscal year 2008. This falls short of the $40 million tax increment finance deal that DC promised the museum, contingent on the (failed) Gehry deal. Nevertheless, the Corc is now making up that shortfall.
The debriefing, in brief: temp labor, monies for repairs, no exhibition schedule. Is the Corc pulling out of 2007?
UPDATE: Greenhalgh's bringing "Modernism" from his former V&A digs to the Corc early in 2007. And I forgot to mention that Margaret Bergen has left the Corc, though her voicemail's still active. Rebecca Gentry's directing communications now.
But you see, Ryan, I do want to read about the "consumption decisions of 19th century textile workers." If their consumption decisions are anything like my breakfast decisions, then 19th-century textile workers just ate two Whole Foods turkey sausage links. Sausage link–eating workers of the world, unite and take over!
As former DCist editor, Ryan needs no introduction to local readers, but I hope to one day play a bit role in his ocean-spanning anglo empire, so I'll welcome him. His blog stays with us in the District while he moves to London—wish him the best with both.
I just checked the official rankings, and PIFF is now the most popular Web site in the world. The Governess and I couldn't have done it without Tom and our parents/aunts/grandfathers/coworkers. Three cheers for PIFF!
Last week I forgot to mention two items in the City Paper that you're now too late to see: the Exotic Fever Festival at various clubs and Axelle Rioult's "Non Sans Emoi (As I Lay Myself . . .)" at the Gallery at Flashpoint. The Fever has passed, and unfortunately, so has the Flashpoint show—prematurely.
At the opening of Rioult's show two weeks ago, curator Xavier Courouble spoke with trepidation about a private group that planned to rent the space for an upcoming party (taking place during the run of the show). His concern was that the party didn't appreciate that the gallery floor would be taken up by a fragile, site-specific installation of bande velpo (like long rolls of gauze), apples, and a milkbath. Apparently, the group did not appreciate the fact. Flashpoint took precautions to host the party of 20 and navigate the installation space: the party's event manager was on hand, along with a Flashpoint staff member. More importantly, Flashpoint gave the party free use of the theater lab so that they wouldn't need to traipse through the installation.
But here comes the two to the three to the four: As the night wore on, the group eventually trampled the installation. At the end of the evening, they tore it down—like so much "avant décor for the evening," in the words Rebecca Lowery, Flashpoint gallery manager.
Tsk. No word yet from Courouble about what, if anything, remains of Rioult's work. (Rioult lives and works in France.) Venus, the site-specific gauze installation, served as the screen for several projected films; there were patches in which the artist had embroidered words and phrases. There was also one stand-alone nylon floor piece called 2%. (I might not hear back from Courouble—I can't imagine he's happy with my review.) Whatever I find out about Rioult's work, I'll pass along.
UPDATE: Courouble and Rioult sound pretty fucking upset.
I have a question for the Internets. My vitamins contain 1,433% of the recommended daily dosage of vitamin E. How does this work? Why don't the vitamins just pack in, say, all the nutrients I need, to the extent the federal government thinks I need them, and no more? Does Safeway cut its vitamin pills with bonus E? I understand that vitamin E protects the skin from the harmful rays of the bright yellow sun, but at 1,433% of the daily dosage, I'm starting to think that I'm being inoculated against the Parallax Fear Anomaly.
Renee Butler, Movement in B Flat, 2005–2006.
Tonight I'll (grudgingly) cross the river for the opening of "Conversions" at the Ellipse Arts Center in Arlington. It's juried by the Podestas, Sam Gilliam, and Dennis O'Neil—none names you need to Google. "Conversions" is "[a]n Exhibition exploring spatial interpretation juries from three distinct points of view." Putting that through my reverse-reverse-Babelfish filter, it's heavy on the sculpture and installation, with site-specific insties to boot. Haven't seen new works by Michele Kong in the area in a while (since "Empire of Sighs", I think). Amy Martin Wilbur doesn't even have a Web site, so it's always a surprise to me when her work pops up.
Works by Renee Butler, Kathryn Cornelius, Susan Eder and Craig Dennis, Tai Hwa Goh, M. Sedestrom Guthrie, Lisa M. Kellner, Michele Kong, Tomas Rivas, Joan Sarah Wexler, Ami Martin Wilbur, Amy Glengary Yang.
I know too many cogs in the Chris Bell machine back home, and many more tinkerers here who are monitoring Bell's progress, to not feel guilty about the yelp of satisfaction I gave when I heard Kinky made the gubernatorial ballot. Give 'em hell, Kinky! But then loose narrowly to the Democratic candidate!
Marc Fisher brings the latest on 84-y-o Maryland comptroller Schaefer. You remember him, right? He told an assistant that her milkshake brought all the elderly to the supervised play area? Even asked her to turn around and "walk again"? Now he's back to business: he's giving it to North Korea by needling Marylander Korean Americans taking ESL courses.
Jorg Sasse, 8246, 2000.
So the DC Art Fair is scheduled for April of next year, and the organizers behind the Miami brouhaha hope to exhibit anywhere from 60 to 85 galleries drawn from the international pool. (That number of galleries depends on the optimism of the person you ask.) No word yet whether (or which) District galleries will be participating; none of the 1515 14th St. galleries is committed, and neither are the handful of Dupont galleries with whom I've spoken.
If gallerists are skeptical, they have reason to be. Take what I say with a grain of salt (rule number one around these parts), and know up front that my hesitation stems in small part from my feeling down on the District lately and in larger part from my feeling extremely skeptical about the market's ability to sustain year-round art fairs wherever there is a city to host them, but I don't think I'd bite on this.
The DC Art Fair is sandwiched between Scope and the Affordable Art Fair, for one thing—and I know that the gallerist who alone represented the District at Scope isn't planning on going back. On the other (higher, more expensive) end of the spectrum (near which the DC fair probably isn't situated), Art Basel is only a month later. I don't know what collectors or galleries the organizers intend to attract, but their reasoning for holding a fair has a lot more to say about tourism than the market. At least, that's their public reasoning. But the tourists who come here are the wrong sort for an art fair—not the hot young things or the wealthy elite—so, let me just say that I have my doubts, and I especially think it would be premature to say that the city's "arrived" or think that this is otherwise any kind of signpost for the city.
Also, art fair at home? No traveling? At the convention center? And their community involvement plan? Not nearly as exciting as this city's. Sure, we live in stuffy DC—but I've heard of more exciting G8 summits.
Tyler Green mentions that the Hirshhorn will be showing film from their permanent collection next year (and will host the U.S. debut of a piece by Isaac Julien). This sounds like the perfect show for a museum that plans to renovate its loading dock next year.
(And how extensive are those renovation plans, anyway?)
Zidane proves that even soccer can be made exciting with a dash of UFC—and now you can relive the excitement on your personal computer. The French televised commentary of the game (via these hooligans) is the saddest stuff ever. Mais pourquoi, mais pourquoi, mais pourquoi?
(Meanwhile, I'm writing something about a French artist and I'm trying my best to include the word "headbutt" in a noninterruptive way, but I'm fairly certain I'm looking forward to a red card from my editor if I do.) Pretty busy today and tonight—see you internets tomorrow.
Kristen Morgin, Piano Forte, 2004. Clay, wood, wire. (Not on view at the artist's Detroit solo show, so you know.)
Today in the CP: a profile of Margaret Boozer, and items on two shows: one at Project 4, the first solo show by Laurel Lukaszewski, and the other at Addison-Ripley, a show curated by Philip Barlow.
This week's art coverage was apparently brought to you by the substance clay. I wrote about Boozer, it worked out that I wrote about Lukaszewski (a stoneware/ceramics artist who shares a space in Boozer's Red Dirt studios) for the same week, and everyone else wrote about Kristen Morgin, another handmade/earth-based materials artist.
Check out the Times's text:
As the congregation of the World Overcomers Outreach Ministries Church looked on and its pastor, Apostle Alton R. Williams, presided, a brown shroud much like a burqa was pulled away to reveal a giant statue of the Lady, but with the Ten Commandments under one arm and "Jehovah" inscribed on her crown. [emphasis added]Irritating though these may be as political artworks, you have to admit, the Memphis piece belongs in a folk art collection, posthaste. Forget What's the Matter With Kansas?—here's a crisp snapshot of that American fringe whose silent-majority status is systematically overstated as, well, you read What's the Matter With Kansas?, didn't you? You can fill in the blanks. Runs a cold chill through my secular heart.
Here people are going to find the AES+F piece more inflammatory than irritating, but it's worth noting that the series predated 9/11 (and anyway was made in a country in which 9/11 refers to Turgenev's birthday). New Liberty is billed as a response to Samuel Huntington's "Clash of Civilizations," which probably sells out its print run after every terrorist attack. But I say this one can still be irritating! It's that gotcha! quality from which most political art suffers. Fuck, I'm shocked I didn't see it at the Whitney Biennial.
Now that I think of it, none of the series was originally presented as photographs, because it had some sort fuzzy commercial contextualization of experience angle. This piece in particular was a t-shirt, and I considered buying one for the novelty, but no one was working at the Sakharov Museum the entire time I was there; and furthermore it seemed to me that buying one would be an endorsement of sorts of a view that (most likely) originally stemmed from the war in Chechnya, about which I couldn't write a very long post. It's not quite the same thing, but ultimately, I'd be irritated to see a Ukrainian strutting around in an ironic shirt that said "I HAVE OPINIONS ABOUT THE WRONGNESS OF THE CONFEDERACY." Not exactly analogous since Chechnya isn't the text but the likely subtext of the t-shirt, but anyway, I didn't buy it. Where exactly could you wear it in the States, anyway?
Certainly not to the World Overcomers Outreach Ministries Church (Apostle Alton R. Williams, presiding) in Memphis, Tennessee. Their Li'l Lady Liberty'll put a boot up yer ass.
The management would like to express its regret for misspelling Kelly Towles's name here.
Presented for your patriotic consideration: George Washington. (Via Unfogged.) Happy Fourth.
UPDATE: One of the two old hippie guys sitting next to me at Bus Boys & Poets just put on the video and made the other one watch it. It's viral whatever and I'm witnessing it! And I knew from the look on his face he was going to play that video. Also, Cindy Sheehan was here for most of the day with a very large protest group, and I thought about writing something about how I'm happy to be living in the capital today, how I sometimes love this town so much despite itself, but I really need to finish this article for tomorrow.
Next week I'll have some news about an artist with whom you're all familiar and that artist's plans for a new permanent installation in the District. I mean, I have the news now, but I can't tell you yet. For now, note that CP's Show & Tell column is back. Nell Boeschenstein has the goods on the Source Theater, which has stood empty for as long as I've lived here.
