A tale of two timed tickets.

This post is about three months late.  But both of these art world events are worth remembering.

Art museums are on a quest to surprise and delight visitors with blockbuster shows by some of the art world’s best stars.  But they’re also delivering on this quest with art that is experiential.  In particular, sculpture is often given over to interactions with viewers.  It makes for extra fun and inspiring trips to museums, but it also creates some problems.  Busy museums like the crowd appeal of interactive sculptures and installations. But with the massive crowds, it can be difficult for museums to give attendees a safe and meaningful experience  That’s where the timed ticket comes in.  These tickets are usually free with museum admission, but they limit the number of people who can participate in the artwork, making the experience more inspiring.

On my last trip to New York, I experienced two timed-ticket events: The first was Tomas Saraceno’s Cloud City on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art; the second was Yayoi Kusama’s Fireflies on the Water at the Whitney Museum of Art.  Normally I’d write a separate post for art events this big.  But even though these two projects are wildly different, I felt they explored similar themes and ideas.  I thought it might be interesting to look at the two works in a single post.

Let’s start with Saraceno’s Cloud City.  For several years now I’ve seen photos of Saraceno’s amazing works with their giant clear bubbles that people climb onto and into and I dreamed of experiencing one of his installations.  So when I learned that Saraceno was chosen as the artist to appear on the roof of the Met this summer I was very excited.  Part of my enthusiasm stemmed from the fact that this is the Argentinian artist’s first major commission in the United States.

Cloud City is the largest and most ambitious structure in a series of works called Cloud Cities/Airport City. The work on the roof of the Met is a "constellation of sixteen interconnected multipolygonal modules linked in a nonlinear configuration.”  That’s a description that probably suits an artist who was originally trained as an architect.  It certainly doesn't accurately represent the art.  Cloud City is a three dimensional, human-sized bee hive of Plexiglas and mirror-finished steel. From the outside it forces you to see your environment even as it asks you to focus solely on the work of art. Each time you try to focus on the sculpture, you’re given reflected views and vistas of the world that surrounds you.  From the inside it’s a world of fun-house mirrors that force you to confront images of yourself, almost to infinity; a surprisingly contemplative work.  The curators at the Met suggest this work is an “investigation of how to expand the ways in which we inhabit and experience our environment.”  I loved it.  Here are a few photos. (By the way, no cameras are allowed inside the structure.  It helps to have a friend on the ground taking picture while you're inside.)

At the Whitney, Yayoi Kusama's Fireflies on the Water was a much different experience.  For this work, you wait patiently in a white gallery for 10 to 15 minutes.  When your turn arrives, a gallery attendant opens a door in the wall of the gallery, let's you into the sculpture, and starts a stopwatch, giving you 60 seconds inside.   During that minute, you're enclosed in a dark, mirrored room.  You walk out on a small gangplank to stand on a tiny platform in the middle of the room.  You're surrounded by still water.  Tiny LED lights are suspended from the ceiling.  The mirrored walls of the room (including the ceiling) create an infinite space that expands the perception of not just space, but also time.  It's a call to contemplation; a moment to ponder not just our place in the present, but our place in the universe.  

No photos were allowed inside Fireflies on the Water.  So instead, I offer a portrait of Kusama inside the work of art. And just for fun, I'm also posting a photo I took of a Louis Vuitton window display in Tokyo.  Louis Vuitton created a line of products designed by Kusama at about the same time her show debuted at the Whitney.  I saw several window displays for the products, but only at this Tokyo store did the strange visage of Kusama that is seen in the portrait make another appearance.

Book ten: Penguin Lost by Andrey Kurkov

I liked Andrey Kurkov's Death of a Penguin so much that I immediately purchased the sequel, Penguin Lost.  And I'm glad I did.  Because these two short books might just be better as a single volume.  Penguin Lost opens with the same melancholy feel that ended the first book.  Viktor Zolotaryov seems intent on remedying the melancholy so has decided to find his penguin (Misha) and bring him home.  The wisdom of this decision is suspect, since Viktor believes Misha has fallen into the hands of a criminal mob.  And that mob may be looking for Viktor.

Viktor works his way through a number of mob members, only to discover that Misha may actually be in the possession of a Chechen warlord.  Finally he embarks on a dangerous and precarious trip where he encounters many strange characters and engages in equally strange activities.  It's at this point in my review I should probably issue a spoiler alert.  Viktor succeeds at finding Misha.  I won't tell you much more than that.  But this end to the story is the reason why I think the two books work better as a single volume.  It completes the story arch.  The first book starts with quirky, interesting characters that are offbeat, downtrodden, and yet somehow lovable.  It sadly ends without letting you know what has happened to Misha, the best character in the books.  The second book starts with that same feeling of sadness.  But by the time the book ends, you've returned to the offbeat likability of the beginning of the entire tale.  

Art class for grown ups.

AIGA Salt Lake City and the Mandate Press hosted Jim Sherraden for a printmaking workshop.  Sherraden is the current caretaker of Hatch Show Print, one of America's oldest show poster and design shops located in Nashville. For the workshop, we used many of Hatch's linoleum cuts, woodblocks, and etched magnesium blocks. It was a surprisingly relaxing way to spend a morning.  And there's something extra fun about making a mess with a bunch of ink and paper.

This activity also reminded me that it's my job to be creative.  Lately it seems that I've become overwhelmed by the business of advertising.  My focus on creativity may have suffered.  Spending four hours making visuals with blocks and ink was a great way to re-invigorate creativity.

I have to give a big shout out to the Mandate Press.  It's a fantastic space with all kinds of cool, printy stuff everywhere.  I may have a letterpress project or two that the Mandate Press could help me with.

I leave you with a few photos from the day including images of many of the prints I made.  Although I can't take credit for the circus t-shirt, but I had to share it because it made me giggle.

The art of the Christmas stocking: part three

The stats for Art Lobster show that previous posts about my custom made Christmas stockings are getting plenty of traffic this time of year.  (You can read those posts here and here.)  The increased views served as a reminder that it's time to post images of the 2011 stocking which I call Hello Christmas.

2011 saw me vacationing in Japan so it seemed only appropriate to concoct a stocking that would pay tribute to one of Japan's greatest ambassadors, Hello Kitty. So here she is looking as "kawaii" as ever.  And yes, the black kanji characters at the top spell "Jeff."  

The 2012 stocking is already under production but as always it's top secret until Christmas.  Expect a post next year.

Taking it to the Brazilian streets.

First, I need to make it clear I have no tolerance for cheap graffiti; those meaningless tags that lack any concept, style, or design sensibility. That kind of stuff just messes up a lot of really great buildings and views. That said, I'm an enthusiastic devotee of street art, starting with the masters from the 80s like Keith Haring and Kenny Scharf.  In today's modern world, street has gained at least a little more respect.  And I think that's largely due to a pack of talented individuals who've made it clear that global corporate brands aren't the only entities that should be allowed to express themselves in public places.

With artists like Nunca and the global sensation, identical twins Os Gemeos, Brazil is a hot bed for the latest street art.  Rio has even gone so far as to make street art legal.  And if you're in São Paulo, you can visit an amazing neighborhood that has embraced street art in a way like no other place I've visited.  Beco do Batman is a series of side streets and alleys that are a mecca for fans of street art.  This constantly changing gallery is a tribute to the urban art movement. And it's a surprisingly inspiring place.  So enough with the talking, here are a few photographs.

Book nine: Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov

Dear NPR Books Podcast; Thank you for some of your more obscure book recommendations. They regularly make my literary life more enjoyable. A perfect example is Death and the Penguin by Andrey Kurkov.  This strange little novel is delightful if you can use such a word to describe a Russian novel.  And it is a Russian novel with its bleak scenes and freezing cold winters.

The delight is largely provided by Misha the penguin.  Yes an actual penguin is a central character in the book.  During the fall of the Soviet Union, as zoos could no longer maintain operations, many just gave away their animals to anyone who would take them.  Such is the case with Misha who was adopted by Viktor, a struggling writer living in Kiev.

Viktor takes a job preparing advance obituaries for a local paper.  But as time goes by, Viktor realizes that something isn’t right.  Most of the people for whom he’s written obituaries end up getting murdered. If that’s not strange enough, Viktor is left taking care of Sonya, a friend’s young daughter who instantly befriends Misha.

As the plot progresses, it becomes clear that Viktor’s life might be in danger.  His best hope may be the fact that a shady character has taken to requesting Misha’s presence at events and funerals.  As the depressed penguin’s health declines, the book twists to a melancholy end filled with events that get stranger and stranger.

With a dark sense of humor, Death and the Penguin is one of the strangest, most rewarding books I’ve read in a long time. And the images of Misha enjoying a cold bath or sadly plip-plopping through the kitchen are delightful.  This book easily qualifies for four Jeffies. And if it weren’t for a few outlandish moments at the end, it probably would have gotten five.

Book eight: Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane by Andrew Graham-Dixon.

Maybe I’m stuck in a rut reading books about troubled historical figures who struggled with (or at least may have struggled with) homosexuality.  Because immediately after reading about Alan Turing’s troubled gay life, I moved on to Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane by Andrew Graham-Dixon.

Let me start by saying this is an epic biography of an artist that has always intrigued me.  Graham-Dixon’s attention to historical detail and careful annotation is mind blowing.  It’s obvious this is an author who is intent on getting it right. And while my knowledge of art is far superior to my knowledge of mathematics (which made reading the book about Turing a challenge), it's still easy to feel uninformed up against Graham-Dixon's brilliance.

Even with the immense effort taken to document the details of Caravaggio’s life, this book just wasn’t all that interesting. But it may not be Graham-Dixon’s fault.  It might be that no one knows that much about Caravaggio.  Sure we know he got into a lot of trouble brawling with other cantankerous artists.  Yes we know he probably killed a man.  Of course we know he wasn’t the best at managing his business affairs.  We even know that his relationship with the Catholic Church was something akin to bipolar.  But generally, I pretty much knew most of what is covered in this book, certainly not to the detail provided here, but nonetheless I didn’t feel like the book really introduced me to anything new.  And that’s OK, except Graham-Dixon seems to make up for this fact by adding lots of filler.

Most of the book features the lives of people who lived at the same time and in the same places as Caravaggio.  And a lot of their lives aren’t as interesting as I’d like them to be.  Graham-Dixon suggests that many of these relationships are the reason Caravaggio may have acted the way he did later in life.  I frequently found those assertions to be a stretch.

Which brings me to the one assertion that other art historians have suggested, but that Graham-Dixon suggests is a stretch; Caravaggio was gay (or at least had meaningful homosexual relationships).   Graham-Dixon strikes me as an old white guy who probably is a little uncomfortable with the whole gay thing.  He goes out of his way to confirm that while we have historical documents that confirm Caravaggio had sex with women, there are no historical documents confirming Caravaggio had sex with men.  But in a book that jumps to several historical conclusions (or at least theories), Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane chooses to gloss over a fair amount of circumstantial evidence that the artist and his assistant may have been one of art history’s great gay couples.  And wouldn’t that make a great book.