"With a ruling by a federal judge on Tuesday that Detroit is eligible to enter bankruptcy, the fate of the city’s art collection — one of the finest in the country — now moves front and center in the legal battle over the city’s future."
When Lydia Cambron was tasked with interpreting the word ‘ruffle’ for a group show at Portland’s White Box Gallery this summer, she started thinking about daily disruptions. Outside of the tech world, disruptions usually have negative connotations—a flat tire, a stain on a white shirt, a smashed iPhone case. But Cambron, a Portland-based industrial designer, prefers to think of these disruptive ruffles as beneficial. She believes that being aggravated, pained even, can force us to address our more deep-seated anxieties and insecurities. Once you can wrap your head around accepting, and even appreciating, discomfort, imagine three products that facilitate it. That’s the idea behind Twice Daily, Cambron’s three-pronged [...]
The 113th Congress: do they blog? They do, a little! And here we review their blogs. Hey here is the Tumblr of Alan Grayson, the Democrat in the House of Representatives from a crazy central stretch of Florida.
Who: Alan Grayson (Rep-D, Florida) — Alan Grayson’s Emails
What: A Sorkinesque salad of high, low, and high-handedness through diatribes, transcripts, remembrances, and Don McLean references.
Design: 4.812/10 The blog is basically basic; its basicness announces itself with every post, every one set against and surrounded by a white background. But the function of design is functionality, and the lack of design pairs potently with the lull of the [...]
I am a dumb writer, perhaps one of the dumbest that's ever lived. Whenever I have an idea, I question myself whether it is sufficiently dumb. I ask myself, is it possible that this, in any way, could be considered smart? If the answer is no, I proceed. I don't write anything new or original. I copy pre-existing texts and move information from one place to another. A child could do what I do, but wouldn't dare to for fear of being called stupid.Tonight Kenneth Goldsmith will appear on The Colbert Report. This year he has been the Museum of Modern Art's first poet laureate, [...]
Kanye West has spent the weeks leading up to the release of "Yeezus" demanding the world consider and respond to his new material and also insisting he doesn't care what any of us thinks of it. We might be surprised by this seemingly paradoxical position, if it wasn't such a familiar stance.
One notable antecedent for this conflict is Franz Kafka, for whom the relationship between artist and audience was a particularly knotty issue—and who memorably explored the relationship in his short story "Ein Hungerkünstler" ("A Hunger Artist"). Although Kafka stipulated that almost his entire body of work be destroyed upon his death, this short story was one of [...]
There’s a strange, wonderful short story by Donald Barthelme about a balloon that appears one day on Fourteenth Street and grows, like a low-hanging blimp, until it covers a good deal of Manhattan. It becomes an object of widespread puzzlement and fascination. Children leap across its surface. Art critics analyze its colors. City officers conduct secret nighttime tests to better understand it.
For the past couple of weeks, Fort Greene has been living out its own strange version of "The Balloon." On a handful of corners, seemingly overnight, bike racks have appeared. And not just any bike racks, but city bike racks. Or is it citibike racks? These, in [...]
"A gorilla sculpture has been painted by a nine-year-old Western lowland gorilla at Paignton Zoo. The zoo said [the gorilla painter] chose to use fingers – and occasionally lips – rather than brushes to apply the child-friendly paint and had been 'inspired by the promise of grapes'."
"I kept noticing instances where internet memes – planking, old me, new me, etc – and collaborative online video projects were really not so dissimilar from early conceptual art and its contemporary predecessors. There are numerous examples in art history of artists giving themselves or others instructions as a form of art-making. I saw this overlap as a possible way of exposing the internet generations to contemporary art, and as a way of legitimizing and celebrating the enormous creative output that the internet and social media has made possible. Also, I've been working in a museum field that is increasingly worried about its relevance and its ability to attract new [...]
Oh my word, Marina Abramovic is totally gonna get her $600,000 on Kickstarter to like put a roof on the bare wrecked shell of a building that she bought in Hudson for almost a million dollars. That thing is a disaster! But soon it will be a beacon, a pillar, a dark crystal of longform time-based performance art. (That's like taking a train ride up the river, but with intentionality.) The performance artist who put the fun back in fundraising is up against a deadline of this weekend, but surely she'll get there. After all, this happened?
I would need a Kickstarter to raise money to pay someone [...]
Happy birthday to Tracey Karima Emin. She may have just turned 50, but she's still outrageous! I mean, probably. It's not like that's the kind of thing you turn on and off for effect, right? (Whatever, she's great. Remember this? No one will ever be able to be that normal again. Or want to.)
Although no one currently on staff at The Paris Review ever worked directly with George Plimpton, the legacy of the editor of 50 years obviously looms large over the publication. Coincident with the 60th anniversary of the magazine is the release of the documentary Plimpton!: Starring George Plimpton As Himself. The cover of the Spring 2013 issue of The Paris Review was a photograph of a poster made by the French artist JR—Unframed: George Plimpton, 1967, from a photograph by Henry Grossman—designed to look like a cover (the Spring 2013 cover, in fact) of The Paris Review pasted on a wall in Paris.
There are as many layers in [...]
"Beauty is a responsibility like anything else, beautiful women have special lives like prime ministers but I don't want that."
The writer and painter Leonora Carrington was 33 and a very beautiful woman when she wrote that line in The Hearing Trumpet, a book that is, among many other topics—alchemy, the Holy Grail, the perversities of nuns, the difficulties of getting goats and wolves to live together—also about being very, very old. This was in 1950; her best friend was a Spanish painter named Remedios Varo.
In the book, Carrington appears under the alias Marian Leatherby, who is 92 and has a beard. She has no [...]
This weekend is The Armory Art Fair in New York City. It is not currently held in one of New York City's fine dilapidated armories—these days, we've used some of those to house the large numbers of people made homeless by Hurricane Sandy! Oh and also the one on Park Avenue serves in part as a shelter for mentally ill women, did you know?!—but over on piers 92 and 94, which is basically where West 53rd Street runs into the Hudson. Yes, brr.
In this art fair, a couple of hundred galleries have wedged wares into little booths. People walk around and look at these things. And run into [...]
If you've ever wanted to know how a nice Jewish girl like Merrill Nisker became Peaches, the new feature film slash documentary "Peaches Does Herself" won't exactly connect the dots for you.
If you'd like to see Peaches and her Fatherfucker Dancers reenact her rise to fame—complete with a giant bed that looks like a vulva, dancers in pink zentai that are orgiastically unzipped, and a surgery gone awry, then Peaches Does Herself offers all of that and more. Besides Peaches and her dancers, "Peaches Does Herself" stars Sandy Kane, of New York City public access fame—she's a former stripper in her sixties who wields a dildo [...]
Now more than ever, giving a follow to the New York Review of Bots might be handy to your lifestyle:
Welcome to the New York Review of Bots, a professional journal of automated-agent studies. We aspire to the highest standards of rigorous analysis, but will often just post things we liked that a computer made.
I was trying to cross 3rd Street yesterday when some jackass transportation neophyte nearly ran me over due to the fact that he was paying more attention to the way he was pedaling and trying to adjust his seat while riding than to what was in front of his face. In the end we were both fine and the collision was barely worth remarking upon except it got me to thinking, how long before we stop seeing the CitiBikes? I mean, of course the CitiBikes will be with us forever now, but at a certain point—and we won't even know when it happens, because not knowing when it happens [...]
Hello, would you like to buy something weird? Hammer Time is our guide to things that are for sale at auction: fantastic, consequential and freakishly grotesque archival treasures that appear in public for just a brief moment, most likely never to be seen again.
"Stephen went down Bedford row, the handle of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. In Clohissey’s window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proprosed gently each other his bulbous fists. And they are throbbing: heroes’ hearts." —James Joyce, Ulysses, Episode 10, The Wandering Rocks
In 2012, Hanksy was a street artist gaining a degree of notoriety for his street art depicting Tom Hanks as a Banksy rat. Since then, he has sold out multiple New York gallery shows, created a large and loyal band of internet supporters, energetic detractors, and is about to open his first show in Los Angeles, at Gallery 1988. Since my first interview with Hanksy, we have become good friends. I do not believe this infringes on my ability to ask questions about pun-based street art.
How to sum up a Surrealist's autobiography? I haven’t the slightest idea. Luis Buñuel's just-republished My Last Sigh contains, as you might expect, few concrete explanations of anything, but countless provisional manifestoes, an index of cinematic inspirations of bewildering range, more anecdotes than any human has a right to own (he narrowly missed that orgy organized by Charlie Chaplin, but did dismantle a Christmas tree at another party attended by Chaplin—other guests were not amused), and a surprisingly elegiac tone of melancholy. This provides a partial overview, but what else? There’s the family’s pet, an "enormous rat" that accompanied them on trips in a birdcage. This was presumably toted [...]