SanArt

Alex Katz, Rain, 1989. Oil on canvas, 54 x 72 in. Photo by G. R. Christmas, courtesy the artist and PaceWildenstein, New York

Alex Katz has a new show at the Parrish Art Museum out in Southampton, New York. I recently interviewed him for Artinfo. Here is an excerpt:

Near the far end of Alex Katz’s current show at the Parrish Art Museum in Southampton, New York, is a 12-foot-wide canvas that shows yellow water lilies floating in a blue-gray pond. “It took me about 40 years to get up the nerve to paint those,” Katz admits, sitting on a couch in his fifth–floor studio in SoHo, on a weekday morning last month. “My studio in Maine is on a four-mile pond, and at the edge of it there are water lilies. People always suggested that I paint them.”

Installation view of Afruz Amighi, “Cages,” at Nicelle Beauchene Gallery. Photos: 16 Miles

Installation view of Afruz Amighi, “Cages,” at Nicelle Beauchene Gallery

Afruz Amighi, Totem [detail], 2009

Afruz Amighi, Totem [detail], 2009

Afruz Amighi, “Cages”
Nicelle Beauchene Gallery
21 Orchard Street
New York, New York
Through February 28

Installation view of “Elena Pankova & Anke Weyer” at Canada Gallery. Photos: 16 Miles

Hanging plants turned up at Claire Fontaine’s show at Reena Spaulings in December (being spun by a motor) and now they’re hanging in Canada Gallery.

Elena Pankova, Untitled face paintings R-Z, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, dimensions variable.

Anke Weyer, Deformation, 2009. Acrylic on canvas, 71 x 78 in.

Painting by Anke Weyer

Elena Pankova, Untitled face paintings W-Z, 2010. Acrylic on canvas, dimensions variable.

Installation view of “Elena Pankova & Anke Weyer” at Canada

Elena Pankova & Anke Weyer
Canada
55 Chrystie Street
New York, New York
Through March 21, 2010

Janaina Tschäpe, Sleep Walkers, 2009. Oil on canvas, 249 x 402 cm. Photos: 16 Miles

Installation view of Janaina Tschäpe, “New Works,” at Catherine Bastide, Brussels

The Janaina Tschäpe show at Catherine Bastide closed at the beginning of December, but when I visited late last month her paintings and photographs were still up. Sikkema Jenkins is bringing her work to the Armory Show next week, and she’s going to be in a show at the Guggenheim next month. The color in that top work is unreal.

Janaina Tschäpe, Water Bird Forest, 2009. Watercolor on paper, 135.9 x 274.3 cm.

Catherine Bastide Gallery also had this little, red Josh Smith hanging in its entryway.

Janaina Tschäpe, “New Works”
Catherine Bastide
62 Chaussée de Forest
Brussels
Through December 5, 2009, unofficially extended

Ken Okiishi, (Goodbye to) Manhattan lobby card (Ku’damm Karree and designer shoes), 2010. Framed inkjet print, 17 1?2 x 12 1?2 inches, edition of 5. Photos: 16 Miles [more]

The aestheticization of urban spaces that occurred in the nineties represents a sea change. The very notion of a lifestyle… is an aesthetic concept and testifies to the transformation of urban life itself. The nineties delivered entertainment as a culture mall in those zones that begin with a few art galleries and quickly morph into upscale, high-end real estate spaces, fashion boutiques, espresso bars, and slick restaurants.

Woody Allen’s classic, Manhattan, begins with the director trying to work out the opening lines of a story set in the city, as images of New York flash across the screen. “Chapter 1,” he begins. “He was too romantic about Manhattan, as he was about everything else. He thrived on the hustle bustle of the crowds and the traffic.” But then he stops. “No, no, corny, too corny for a man of my taste!” He starts again, “He adored New York City. To him, it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture…” But, again, he falters. “No, that’s a little bit too preachy.”

He’s writing in 1979, on the edge of the decade that would see New York’s professionals begin to embrace Morris’s consumption-based lifestyles en mass for the first time, in neighborhoods of unprecedented wealth and unbridled gentrification, which Morris bluntly declares “cultural ghettoes a step above the theme park.” Allen, playing a disillusioned TV writer meets a young Diane Keaton and then encounters her again at a political fundraiser at the Museum of Modern Art. They spend the night talking in a quiet, tranquil park along the East River.

Images from Allen’s Manhattan form the background in a new series of prints by Ken Okiishi at the Alex Zachary gallery. He has overlaid photographs of abandoned retail shops on Manhattan’s Upper East Side: a Jil Sander, a Sonia Rykiel Enfant, and an unmarked storefront on the corner of 86th Street and Madison Avenue, all empty. At least in some areas of the city, a lot has changed in the decade Morris’s condemnation of New York’s aestheticization, and Zachary’s gallery is an example of those shifts, slipping into an exhibition space deserted by its previous gallery owner. However, this is something of an exception: a sign in one window photographed by Okiishi reveals a much more common story: “Citibank Coming Soon.”

Okiishi’s photographs of Manhattan island hover next to others that show Ku’damm Karree, an office and shopping center in Berlin, that fabled land of low rents, countless galleries, and an unrivalled art scene. As Karen Rosenberg puts it in her review of Okiishi’s show in the Times, “A few years ago it seemed as though the entire New York art world might move to Berlin.” Okiishi, though, seems to be equating the two cities, highlighting the idealized allure that each holds for residents of the other. A film playing in the gallery’s main room cuts back and forth between footage from present-day Berlin and Manhattan, a jump between a humbled present and a trilling, albeit naïve, past.

“Thirty-five years ago one could be comfortable and marginal in New York, survive on a part-time job, and have plenty of leisure for intellectual or aesthetic pursuits,” Morris writes. (Allen quits his job to write a book, and though he worries endlessly, it is clear he will survive the experiment intact.) “Today there is no margin in big-city life.” There was a notion for a while that that margin may exist in Berlin, and there is now a sense in the air that it could return to New York again. One hopes that Okiishi’s auspicious debut at what appears to be an ambitious new gallery on the Upper East Side is a first hint of that.

Allen, of course, finally gets it right. “He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat. I love this! New York was his town, and it always would be.”

Ken Okiishi, (Goodbye to) Manhattan lobby card (Sonia Rykiel Enfant), 2010. Framed inkjet print, 17 1?2 x 12 1?2 inches, edition of 5.

Ken Okiishi, (Goodbye to) Manhattan [still], 2010. DVD, color/sound, 72 min., edition of 5.

Ken Okiishi, (Goodbye to) Manhattan lobby card (Ku’damm Karree / Jil Sander Coming Soon Citibank), 2010. Framed inkjet print, 17 1?2 x 12 1?2 inches, edition of 5.

Ken Okiishi, (Goodbye to) Manhattan [still], 2010. DVD, color/sound, 72 min., edition of 5.

Ken Okiishi, “(Goodbye to) Manhattan”
Alex Zachary
16 East 77th Street
New York, New York

Rob Pruitt, Mark Rothko, 2008, in “The Living and the Dead,” at Gavin Brown’s enterprise, July 1 through August 7, 2009. Photo: 16 Miles [more]

When one of the chief criticisms levied against an artist is that his success is a result of relentless, soulless networking, it’s somewhat refreshing to see him unashamedly create a book reviewing his entire career that is comprised almost entirely of quotations culled from influential friends, acquaintances, hangers–on, and famous names. And that appears to be what Rob Pruitt has done for his new book, Pop Touched Me.

The quality of these testimonies vary from the pleasantly kind (Jeff Koons: “I’ve always loved Rob’s work.”) to the somewhat lackluster (Sofia Coppola: “I like his pandas, and he seems like a cool guy.”), but it amounts to a fairly comprehensive history of the last two decades of a certain group of artists working in New York. Jerry Saltz and Jeffrey Deitch present some of the book’s more entertaining moments:

The last time I ever did cocaine was when Rob laid his fifty-foot long line of coke on mirrors on the floor of that loft on 14th street.

Zoe Crosher, Obfuscated Island Nights (Hot & Muggy), 2009. Archival inkjet print, ed. of 5 + 2 AP, 17 x 11 in. on 24 x 20 in. paper. Photos: 16 Miles [more]

Zoe Crosher, top to bottom: Mirrored Autoportrait 3; Mirrored Autoportrait 2; and Mirrored Autoportrait 1. All works: 2009. Archival inkjet prints, editions of 10 + 2 AP, 24 x 32 in.

Installation view of Zoe Crosher, “The Unraveling of Michelle duBois,” at DCKT Contemporary

Installation view of Zoe Crosher, “The Unraveling of Michelle duBois,” at DCKT Contemporary

Zoe Crosher, Acting Like a Tiger, 2009. Archival inkjet print, ed. of 5 + 2 AP, 12 x 9 in.

Zoe Crosher, “The Unraveling of Michelle duBois”
DCKT Contemporary
195 Bowery
New York, New York
Through February 14, 2010

Jeff Koons’s Studio, February 2, 2010. Photos: 16 Miles [more]

It’s a little surprising that it took until 2010 for BMW to commission Jeff Koons to participate in its ‘art car’ series. The company picked Warhol to make the 1979 edition, 17 years after his high-art debut in New York. Koons, in contrast, has been producing inflatable sculptures for 31 years. (By the way, Warhol, the great assembly–line artist, made the charmingly perverse decision to paint his contribution by hand.)

Nevertheless, BMW has finally asked Koons to participate, and the artist opened his studio last week for a party to make the official announcement. Some of his assistants stayed after work to paint a bit and explain the studio process for the assembled masses. Discoveries: lunch-time soccer games (sans Koons) are frequent, more than 100 work there every day, and the starting wage is $19 an hour. Multiplying that number over a year for the full staff and then adding in other costs of running the workshop, his profit margin would seem to be less than one would expect.

The quality of the cars in BMW’s series varies considerably, but the project at least invites a fun thought-experiment about how other artists might handle the commission. Robert Barry? All the doors would be locked. Damien Hirst? Formaldehyde–covered animals boxed in the trunk like massive subwoofers. James Turrell? One giant moon-roof. Yayoi Kusama? A giant, mobile, polka-dot-covered mushroom.

There are more photos and an article.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (America) [installation view], 1994/1995. Photos: 16 Miles [more]

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (America) [installation view], 1994/1995.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (America) [installation view], 1994/1995.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (Fortune Cookie Corner), 1990

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (for Stockholm) [installation view], 1992

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled, 1988

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (Throat), 1991

Installation view of “Felix Gonzalez-Torres: Specific Objects without Specific Form” at WIELS, Brussels, Belgium

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (Golden) [detail], 1995

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled (Golden) [detail], 1995

WIELS, Brussels, Belgium

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, “Specific Objects without Specific Form”
WIELS
Av. Van Volxemlaan 354
Brussels, Belgium
Through April 25, 2010

Gelitin, Blind Sculpture [in progress], January 30, 2010. Mixed media, dimensions variable. Photos: 16 Miles [more]

Gelitin — the art collective best known for producing art works that looks like they were made out of Play-Doh and organizing performances that often involve remarkable obscenity (peeing on each other) — has arrived in New York. Through February 6, the group is working in Greene Naftali on a Blind Sculpture. The men appear each day sporting high heels, lingerie, and blindfolds; sometimes they forgo the cross-dressing for more traditional, naked exhibitionism. They have recruited artists ranging from Cecily Brown to Liam Gillick to Urs Fischer to guide them as they attempt to produce the sculpture without the use of sight. (There is a full schedule of guest artists available.)

January 30, 2010

Both times I’ve visited there have been some worrisome moments: the blindfolded artists bravely climb ladders and confidently wield power drills and hacksaws as they complete the project. No one seemed to be injured so far. In the span from the first to the third day (this past Thursday and Saturday), they had added quite a bit of material. After they unveil the work (to themselves), it will stay on display through February 26. Until then, there are far worse ways to spend a gallery tour or Chelsea coffee break. Benches have been constructed around the sculpture area, letting viewers relax and watch, as if the makeshift studio was a gladiatorial area.

Of course, not much happens in that arena. Greg Allen pretty much nails it on Art Fag City:

As for the art stars, it’s basically like weekly episodes of Love Boat. Even though it’s incredibly formulaic, the special guest stars add enough novelty to keep people interested week after week. And so it’s the formula–and the main characters, Gopher et al/Gelitin–who come out ahead.

It’s a funny conceit — “let’s make a sculpture while blindfolded” — stretched to a silly extreme. The life of an artist is slow, mundane, and monotonous, viewers learn.

But while it’s not a thrilling spectacle, as the piano player provides a running score to the show, the gallery becomes a nice place to hang out and chat; a warm safe-house above Chelsea’s frigid streets with a good view.

January 28, 2010

January 28, 2010

January 28, 2010

On the first evening, a puppy was present, gnawing here on a piece of carrot.

January 28, 2010

The supplies available to the artists filled one side of the installation area on the first evening of construction.

Gelitin, Blind Sculpture
Greene Naftali Gallery
508 West 26th Street, 8th Floor
New York, New York
Through February 26, 2010
Construction through February 6, 2010