Tuesday we went up to the “L”, crossed to an uptown Lex and slogged sorefootedly Metwards…
…to immerse ourselves, somewhat randomly, in Middle Period Egypt,
…Meso-American architectural models
…and finish up spooked as usual by the abundance of their South Pacific demons;
After all that sped downtown for a long, late and enjoyable meal at the corner of Spring and Lafayette [Spring Street Natural] before our tour of Donald Judd’s Spring Street studio, which sometime in the seventies he reconstituted as a total artwork [each of its five floors dedicated to a different specific purpose, meticulously arranged] before emigrating to West Texas and buying up much of Marfa, thus escaping the influx of artists [soon succeeded by much much worse] overrunning his old neighborhood. Or so we were told, and also told no photography on the meticulously choreographed upper floors, alas.
…so none taken but the fact that he died without a C of O was charmingly appropriate, I thought. Building inspectors never made it through the door until the Foundation began the extremely expensive posthumous restorations, one example being the replacement of all the old watery cast glass [and two sides of the building are pretty much huge double hung windows] with watery cast insulated glass]…probably costing way more than the whole place did originally.
Ya gotta love it.
Wednesday it rained, for sure;
With Arlene we walked wetly to the river to inspect the Whitney and insert ourselves into a members’ preview of Frank Stella’s retrospective. I’d kinda parted company with the work early on, like say just after “Post Painterly Abstraction”, but this dayglo-and-yellow puppy screamed “1964” to me…in a good way;
After that, to our jaded eyes, it all devolved into Shameless Irrational Exuberance, lurid lures for the idiotically ostentatious among the one percent of the one percent, although these two, still totally out of control, were a little more subdued. Really;
Arlene, more open-minded, was willing to give it all the eye-bending benefit of a doubt and devote much more time and energy to the spectacle, which we found endearing…the “New Yorker” was less kind, saying “his ambition rolls on, unalloyed with self-questioning or humor”, which pretty much says it for me as well.
While she lingered we wandered the other available floors, assessing the famous new building and its famous riparian views. Though the elevators were hopeless and weather precluded enjoyment of the touted terraces the stairs worked fine…
Reconnecting with A and finding the museum’s eateries oversubscribed we dashed across the street for lunch, parting company after a nice rainy day repast. Soup, fries, a burger…lots of good hot coffee at a joint called Bubby’s.
The downpours somewhat abating L. and I made our way relatively undrenched up the misting High Line as far as 19th…
…and then descended on David Zwirner for an as ever curious Isa Genzken exhibit, the appropriately figurative complement to all those overindulgent Stellas;
Across the street lurked a more quixotic show of paintings by our friend Squeak Carnwath;
…some of which even came with their own rocking soundtracks; I was jealous.
Another block up Gladstone Gallery presented Richard Prince’s “Cowboy”, just that, and at Paula Cooper across the street Historically Important Conceptualism [not shown] ;
Further along we found a nicely spare room of Tony Smiths with some strange lumps of painted cast glass by Philip Taafe down the block;
…more weirdness and an intriguingly curated show by Lily Wei along the way;
Made it north as far as 23rd, then fortuitously scored a taxi home to Bleecker…
Come evening we crossed to Brooklyn Heights to meet our dear friend Lydia at the restaurant of her choice, River Deli, for superb Sardinian food and her firsthand news of Greek Islands’ responses to refugees and the beleaguered eastern Mediterranean generally as the New York rain rained on…
…then to Bleecker by Uber to witness the wrap-up of the Reppuppetlican buffoons’ ridiculous “debate” and another night of bartender’s dog’s TV…
Next up; a New Museum…
How did you make that hot dog vendor look so beautiful? I was there last week and they looked great, but not… like that.
Would have been amazing to run into you there! As for the vendor, well, it’s all in cropping the pic, I’d say.
Probably shouldn’t ask this of a contemporary artist, but what are your true feelings about galleries and museums? About the separation and isolation of art from the rest of the world, putting it on a pedestal of sorts and bowing down in supplication to what is more often than not moronic self-indulgent ego prancing? Well-paid prancing, to be sure, but that only makes it more repugnant.
Ahhh, this ought to be dug into over a bottle or two by Floating Island’s woodstove as the snow flies in Cedarville, I’d say, but there’s the good ones and the bad ones and plenty of ego prancing throughout…just comes with the terror-tory. And well above my pay grade at present…
An excellent rendering of your NYC tour de force! Love the pics and commentary. Nice taxi timing with the yellow tabletop. Wish I’d been there when you were there; my harshly-lit skyscrapers from the circle line boat cruise lack the more tasty feel you got in the rain…and it would be terrific to have you (and L) lead a private art tour of Manhattan. But your blog definitely suffices as a virtual experience…thanks!
Looking forward to the New Museum tour, but gotta dash to SFO today. Au revoir.
I love this vicarious inundation in the NY art scene via your lens. All that great art makes me feel lazy in comparison! I enjoy Squeak’s work.
I enjoyed all the above comments and your ‘tour’ of NYC. You all really got around! That Whitney staircase looked a lot like the staircase at the old (but I believe soon to be re-opened) Dia museum only theirs had a Flavin light show. The Stella looks exhausting. I enjoy the High Line and try to overlook its trendiness!