A graduated 4 week/4 fork program
Week 1: the four tine introduces a new fork to the user to think of the purpose of the program
Weeks 2, 3, 4: step down efficiency of the fork - smaller bites, smaller meals.
Meals that take longer to eat help with the digestion and promote conversation.
Here is my project for the Bring it to the table exhibition. I have had a lot of fun playing with sugar in all it's forms! See below for the outcome. Hope to see you on Sunday at the opening – spring, 126a Front Street, Brooklyn, New York, 11am-2pm.
Sugar is a food product that teeters somewhere between good and bad. Like salt, it is a product that is used by most of the world, regardless of development, infrastructure or GNP. However, its production has led to exploitation and clearing of forests to make way for planting more sugar cane in developing countries and its growth in popularity has led to the onslaught of obesity in both children and adults in developed countries. Conversely, sugar cane has also been developed as a feasible alternative energy source, making its very existence something we may depend upon more heavily in the future.
Considering the many faces that sugar takes, Natasha Chetiyawardana has explored sugar in its many forms for Spring gallery’s Bring it to the table project. Taking sugar in its original form, a pen was whittled from a piece of sugar cane, ready to chew on in that moment of thought and contemplation, hopefully there to provoke thought itself. Secondly, a sugar bowl was made from the by-product of sugar production, bagasse, the fibre that is left when the juice is extracted from the cane. The fibers were mixed with soy resin to create a new life for a waste product that is usually just burned. The third exploration was looking at sugar in its usually-consumed form, the sugar cube. As a nod to the ships that haul sugar across rivers and over oceans, a small boat made of sugar floats momentarily on the foam seas of a cappuccino and eventually sinks. A sugar man sits on the precipice that is the edge of a cup, dipping his feet into the drink to test the waters. A little poke from a sugar-hungry finger pushes him over the edge.
The first of a few of the pieces we are exhibiting on Sunday at spring that I thought you foodies would be interested in.
CHOW CHART by Brett Snyder, Designer, Visiting Assistant Professor, Pratt School of Architecture and The University of the Arts, www.chengsnyder.com
The food we eat is part of a vast network of global production and consumption. On Chow Chart, a placemat, adjacent maps trace the path, from farm to table, of the ingredients in a typical home-cooked dinner. Total mileage that ingredients have travelled are represented by the color coded ‘spokes.’ These distances comprise only a portion of the whole story. Once food is consumed, the by-products continue on various trajectories, from the network of sewage pipes, to water treatment facilities, to landfills, and to recycling centers where discarded food packaging material is transformed once again. Chow-Chart suggests that in addition to measuring food by cost and calories, we may also begin to think about food in terms of its global impact.
spring is a gallery in DUMBO, Brooklyn whose next show stems from the table as a place where we sit, eat, discuss. The need to readjust and focus towards a more enjoyable, clean and responsible way of living is best represented by the philosophy behind projects as such as slow food and how it reflects a collective, contemporary thinking that can be applied to other disciplines; the slow revolution! Through curation, Anna Cosentino and Steve Butcher of spring would like to 'bring to the table' results of successful collaborations, examples of design that gives back, show the importance of artisanal skills and their application in design and art; and ultimately the new interpretation of luxury. Featured in this selling exhibition are the brilliant paintings by Justin Richel (see images above) and the much-lauded Sorapot (images below) by Joey Roth.
Alongside this show is an exhibition co-curated by Michael and I with spring. Reserving a space at the table for a group of designers, artists, art directors and thinkers we have asked them to bring something to the table to provoke thought/discussion/action. We are very lucky to have the following people participating (and more may be added to this list): Ralph Ball; Davide Cantoni; Will Carey; Peter Cole; Heather Cox; Otis Kriegel; Michael McGinn; Maxine Naylor; Stijn Ossevoort; Brett Snyder; Cecilie F. Egeberg; Jessica Peterson; Rob Price; Douglas Riccardi; Charlie W. D. Marshall; Rich Brilliant Willing; Zoe Sheehan Saldana. This exhibition explores creative thinkers' approaches to the table environment and their work will be exhibited along a dining table. I'll post some of the pieces involved tomorrow. If you are in the new York area, come and join us this Sunday, May 18th from 11am-2pm for some bloody marys and see what we have at our table!
You are probably going to ask yourself, what kind of person would not post about a friend's new show at Hirschl & Adler Modern until 16 days after it opened, and 15 days before it closes? My answer to you is an idiot like myself who can't seem to find the time of day to get a post or two into a foolhardy weekly schedule filled with travel, teaching, clients and excuses. But enough about me.
I met Marc Dennis through friends Richard and Penny down at DUMBO's General Store last spring. With Marc's long time association with the area, sharing studio space with an old college soccer mate of mine (that's you Manny), and a mutual admiration for a pint or two, I don't know how it was possible that we hadn't met years ago. Regardless, when we did meet, we bonded like two old sailors stuck in Kansas.
Unlike his paintings, when Marc is observed from a typical viewing distance, he appears unrefined, a rough around the edges blue collar type armed with an unforgiving Massachusetts accent. From this perspective there is no romance in his style, flair to his dress or an apparent necessity for social niceties. For those unwilling to look further or engage (if Marc so chooses) they will miss the beauty, intelligence, knowledge, cutting humor and quick wit of this man who has slashed a distinct pathway to considered vision and creative passion.
As with Marc, his paintings are there for those who spend the time to engage. Taken at face value, his work seems simple and easy to understand as interesting subjects of nature's beauty deftly executed in a photorealistic manner. Both his large and small canvasses feature a rich pallete, powerful compositions and a depth that calls for the viewer to reach out and touch. BFD, right? No, not right. As with the person who sticks around to to discover the value and essence of Marc's words and character, so will the viewer who stays long enough to find the message and reward in his paintings.
For example, at the opening there was an older couple hovering around Diptych of Earthly Delights, an 2007 oil on canvas that measures 30 x 60 in, depicting an arial view of poppy flowers and buds. As the couple moved back and forth observing the buttock-like buds, the woman was overheard by Marc to say, "Are those anuses"? To which Marc replied in passing, "Yes, they are". Moving beyond gimmickry to deliver a dose of reality and humanity as evident in his Melodius Merrius Giganticus which transforms beautifully-rendered buds into a gaggle of curious pink characters with green snouts with the simple application of dots, or Venus Giganticus where mehndi/henna (Lawsonia inermis) styled stems lurk behind a foreground of gloriously patterned and detailed flowers.
I would be going out on a limb to state that to know Marc is to know his paintings or visa versa. However, I would say that in viewing these recent pieces that Marc has come to the conclusion that with all of his skill and artistry it would be a fruitless folly to try and fully capture the evolutionary beauty and intelligence of nature by applying pigment to canvas. By studying nature day in and day out he has found something most of us have missed. By dissecting and recreating nature he has discovered and connected his individual human nature and traits to his subject to create an intimate and knowledgeable relationship where the humor is an insider's joke between Marc and his subjects.
Anyway, my dad Bio Bob thinks Marc it the greatest thing since saprophytes and I don't think he is bad either. Marc, I owe you a few beers.
Shown above: Melodius Merrius Giganticus, 2007, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 in. Venus Giganticus, 2008, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 in.
Hirschl & Adler Modern, 21 East 70th Street, through March 15, 2008
There would be relatively few reasons for me to leave the comfort of my apartment or the warmth of my bog-standard builders tea on this miserable Friday afternoon. However, reason and rational have little traction when one is called by an unnamed force to act, and act I did.
Poorly armed with a $3 street umbrella and red-laced low-top trainers I fought my way through fitful winds and pulsing streams water falling from the Manhattan bridge on my way to Klompching Gallery here in DUMBO. And what did I find at the end of my soggy vision quest? Snow.
Unexpectedly, I found myself swept up and enveloped by Lisa M Robinson's "Snowbound", a five year undertaking to photograph ice and snow. Having been raised in Binghamton, New York, I know something about snow as I know something about winter. And in my expert opinion, so does Lisa M Robinson. You don't see winter, and capture images of snow like she does unless you do.
She understands that winter is a suspension of life and a point of no return between the memory of fall and the hope of spring. Within her photographs you hear the ghostly whispers of summer's glory as winter winds carry them across a thinly veiled landscapes that attempt to hide the presence of those who make it their home. Multiple colorful huts and a single figure become an abstract vision painted with life's frozen elixir in Robinson's "Invisible City" as shown above. While "Solo", as seen below, teeters between a brutality of fact and the romanticism of fiction.
I found comfort in being alone with this show's 16 pieces as I often found myself comforted by walking through the winter nether-world of my youth. Their familiarity brought my senses to life, and life to memory. Here's to you Lisa M Robinson.
The show runs through February 29th.
I have been off painting and sculpture of late and now find myself drawn to big photos much in the same way I am drawn to tapioca pudding. In both cases I am fascinated by mankind's vision and technology to create such wonders, but disappointed that each has the tendency to leave me with a sugary taste in my mouth and empty feeling in my stomach considering such a high calorific intake.
I really didn't put this new pursuit into perspective until yesterday afternoon when I stumbled upon a meaningful show, Motherland by Simon Roberts, at the Klompching Gallery here in DUMBO. As you can imagine, it was a giant relief to see a photo show, specifically a large format photo show where the size of the prints was in direct relation to the quality, impact and meaning of the subject and story. And as one can imagine, this is something that doesn't happen much in this age of large format Digital Type C Prints. You know what I mean, we have all walked into a gallery or even a museum and said to ourselves, "Wow, those are big, they must have cost a lot to print". No matter what those spam emails tell me on a daily basis, bigger is not always going to impress the ladies. In fact, I have been downright miffed by some the big photography I have seen at ground level, big name, Chelsea galleries the season. Although it's not worth the time and effort to name the galleries or photos that suck (or to answer the hate comments left on the Nova Clutch blog), I will go with the spirit of the season and share the stuff I really loved. How's that?
1. Edward Burtynsky: Quarries at Charles Cowles Gallery (Closed)
Know him, love him, can't live without one of his prints, but I will have to for now. Initially I didn't know how to look at these photos. I walked around quickly to take them all in and then made a second and third round to move beyond the size of the prints and the vastness of the space captured within to bring me to a place where I could enjoy the composition, color, details and story. Talk about the will to move mountains, the ingenuity, the technology and the brute strength compared to the smallness of the cars, trucks and buildings. Now this is modern sculpture on a massive scale, not just the palace where the stone actually went. Art capturing life creating art, yes.
2. Amir Zaki: ? at Perry Rubenstein Gallery (Closed)
As my dearly departed friend George once told me at the age of 80, "I think I really started to see last month when I saw beauty in an ugly town that I never really looked at before". I think this may be what Amir Zaki has thankfully discovered at a much earlier age. I was immediately struck by the monumental format and presence of this photographer's urban landscapes. Like ruins of an ancient civilization, these images, anonymous residue of urban sprawl and strip mall culture, are singled out and made worthy of their existence. Adorned with hypothetical logo marks and signage, the buildings are taken further from their original and forgotten purpose and transformed into a relic of some parallel universe. Although some of the logo marks can come off as a bit too Stargate ( http://stargate.mgm.com/ ) for may taste, his accompanying digitally informed "scribble" sculptures are intriguing on their own accord.
3. Simon Roberts: Motherland at the Klompching Gallery (Closes December 23)
For me the Motherland was the mother load. Here the large format captured the vastness, simplicity and complexity, hope, struggle and heart of the Russian territories, peoples and cultures. It would have been easy for this talented young Briton to take exceptional yet expected shots, however, even when he takes a picture of the ubiquitous Brutalalist Soviet apartment blocks he captures something different; a serene acknowledgment of deterioration without sentimentality or apology. Each and every photo created connection between this viewer and the subject because the Roberts has engaged the land and its inhabitants over the course of a 365 days, 75,000 kilometers and 11 time zones.
Can these men help save the world of large format photographic prints? Da, pravda.
All photos are from the photographer's respective websites.
We mentioned earlier that we were taking part in a new project set by Spring Gallery in DUMBO, with judging by those from Treehugger, Core 77, Apartment Therapy and Good Magazine.
Pictured is our outcome for the brief – create a clock conscious of recycling that incorporates a green element. Our thought with these pieces was that we didn't want to make a clock out of recycled materials for the sake of it. Because that would just be a clock made out of garbage, wouldn't it?
Our solution was to make three clocks, all made out of the packaging that a clock came in, illustrating that the packaging itself is enough to perform the function of the product inside. Luckily for us, we won a prize for the polystyrene clock and the paper bag clock sold for a nice sum, with proceeds going to benefit Trees of the Future. We won the very unusual prize of playing ping pong with Ron Gilad, and will certainly post photos of our game!
To make the present better, we need to learn from the past. Obvious statement, right? Knowing what's come before means that you can learn from the mistakes of others, from the things in history that were good and the things that were bad.
However, the resurgence of a nod to the past, to an era where objects were made properly by craftsmen and artisans, has been rife in the design world. Chandeliers abound, and the details of the old-fashioned have taken on not an artistry but have been relegated to merely a wink, a detail for the sake of detail.
Someone breaking out of the swampy territory of trend is Rob Price and his design for our local, Spring. Rob's piece is not merely a nod to the past, but quite literally a chunk of it. Taking the impracticality of having a huge grandfather clock in one's tiny New York studio, Rob has created a slice of one, complete with walnut and glass, the hands breaking free of their traditional home. The outcome is a poetic and beautiful piece, steeped in history yet relevant today.
Rob's piece has led to a green clock project set by Spring and Core 77 to a number of artists and designers, of which Michael and I are two of. The opening is this Friday at Spring Gallery on Front Street in DUMBO. Hope you can make it!
Photograph by Spring
Last Thursday evening, thanks to my good friend Walter at Paris Ceramics, I had the opportunity to feast my eyes and palate on some of the finest foods that New York has to offer. Hosted by 25 showrooms at the Architects & Designers Building and sponsored by the New York Times Style Magazine, I spent the evening moving from showroom to showroom, and floor to floor to sampling post Halloween treats from the likes of Michael Anthony of Gramercy Tavern, Dan Barber from Blue Hill at Stone Barns and Marcus Samuelsson of Aquavit.
However, being the simple, yet complex upstate boy that I am, I found myself starting and ending the evening with the Four Ms; Mahon, Majorero, Manchego and Max. As you can guess, the Mahon, Majorero, Manchego are the cheeses, and the Max is Artisanal's very own, Max McCalman. Surprisingly and refreshingly, this world-renowned legend of curd humbly called himself the "Cheese Guy" when introduced. And although his appearance was set to help support his new book "Cheese: A Connoisseur's Guide to the World's Best", he seemed more comfortable talking about the salty seaside grasses eaten by the Menorca cows to create the sharp, tangy and salty Mahon. Or point out that the Majoreo Pimenton goat cheese was originally coated in a spicy paprika-like spice to keep the flies away (bacteria, etc.). His down-to-earth approach even took the ubiquitous Manchego to new levels by calling out the details that made this El Toboso-sourced offering special and noteworthy.
Max made me look at cheese differently that night, and therefore when I went to shoot the mother load of cheese that I brought home to Natasha, I shot it differently. In the details I found simplicity, architectural structure and shape that captured the multi-leveled intensity of the Mahon, the tangy angles of the Manchego and the monolithic strength of the Majoreo Pimenton.
After speaking at length with Max I started to understand that one doesn't learn about cheese while studying or tasting it, one learns about life. Like cheese, human kind is basically made up of the same stuff, but it is the details that make us unique and wonderful (even when runny and stinky). Our land or region of origin, be it near an ocean, plain or a mountain. The process by which we interact with our surroundings to grow and mature. The tradition and process that make up culture and community that make us who we are, the form in which we are seen by the world. Traveling, seeking out and discovering "new" cheeses not only gives us insight and perspective into other people's lives, it stays with us as we come back home to better appreciate our own homes and whey of life. Sorry, that was a bit cheesy. I hope Max will still allow us to take the Cheese & Wine 101.
There is nothing like a New York fashion/lifestyle magazine party. Especially at a fancy pants photo studio like Splashlight . Long lines of wannabes or assistants to those that "are somebody" standing outside striking their best devil-may-care pose as they wait to have their name checked off a list for the privilege of standing in even longer line where incompetent bar tenders throw together drinks made with the sponsor's very special vodka. By grace of God (not the same God that is currently backing the Colorado Rockies), we were special enough to bypass the crowds outside and go straight to waiting 30 minutes for a Mojito that contained no alcohol and tasted like a citrus counter cleaner.
That aside, our intentions for attending last night's Surface Magazine's 10th Annual Avant Guardian Photography Project were of a higher calling, art. Or was that commerce?
Natasha and I were very excited about seeing this year's winners as chosen by all-star lineup of judges such as photographer Rankin and GQ design director Fred Woodward. And as Surface warned us "Brace yourself: you're about to travel through time". But where in time? It wasn't the distant past were style, originality, emotion, provocation, connection and artistry defined the day. Was it back to yesterday? I hope it wasn't the future, gracious no.
Regardless, we did find some gems amongst the uninspired, competent and effect-driven photography that seemed to drive the show. Breaking from the the humdrum and haven't-I-seen-this-all-before, still life offerings by Massimo Gammacurta were not only technically superior, their composition and simple story line were refreshing step away from the meaningless fashion staging of Luke Duval and GL Wood. This can also be said for the still life compositions by Jamie Chung whose "better mouse trap" styling and exquisite lighting defy gravity and create a rich, dark scientific stage.
Where was the sense of style, originality, emotion, provocation, connection or artistry? Or the imagination and "impish" inclinations that I was promised by Surface? The closest thing I found was Jing Quek's uneasy Andreas Gursky-like montages whose flatness, staging, forced composition and silly posturing made me look time and time again to find something that I had missed before. The only other photos that even attempted to take a chance was Reed + Rader's submissions, although I fail to understand the point of the story.
Although all of these young photographers have captured images, only a few have captured my imagination, or found a place in my memory. From what I have seen, I don't think I like the future.
The only reason we went to the Bedat & Co./Tourneau party last night was because Gilles was playing. And I think the only reason he was playing was because he was in town for the Cielo gig the previous night.
We walked into the large building on 57th Street, a large ominous ticking sound surrounded us. No, we weren't dying, this is Tourneau's go at sound branding, because the ticking reminds you that they are a timepiece behemoth. Or something like that.
Walking into a massive corporate atrium with 40+ feet ceilings, I noticed that the tiny sound coming from the corner of the space was none other than Gilles Peterson "spinning". A thin crowd (any crowd would seem thin in this kind of space) resplendent with jewels and cocktail wear ignored him as we tried to devise ways of introducing ourselves.
Soon a little speech was made and the entertainment started, none other than the brilliant Raven O Master of Ceremonies from The Box. I didn't know that Raven O and his gang ventured out of their lair, but apparently they do for a price. The burlesque and cabaret so brilliant at The Box was out of place and strange in this large atrium and low stage, and the suited crowd looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes and shifted uncomfortably in their shiny shoes. Peep shows, stripping and expletives were apparently not what they were expecting. Where as the vaudeville delights have the perfect milieu in the one hundred year old theater on Chrystie Street, in this situation it was just inappropriate and embarassing. You can take all that is cool but reappropriating it for your brand takes some thought and consideration. And sometimes, that reappropriation just doesn't work. Tourneau should consider hiring these guys next time.
The first sign that a design opening is not bowling the crowd over is when you find 95% of the guests huddling around the free drinks table. This was the case a few weeks ago at the introduction of Ingo Maurer's new work at his SoHo gallery. However, seeing that the room was cleared to one side I had the perfect opportunity to investigate what was seemingly less interesting than the acidic warm white wine being poured.
And what I found on the gallery's two floors was an answer, no, actually a question. What the hell happened to the prince of lightness?
As I walked with Natasha, a twinge of sadness hit me. It was that same sinking feeling you get when you see your favorite footballer loses a step he will never gain back, or the day you realize Eddie Murphy can't squeeze another joke out of a fat suit.
Ah, that might be it. Maybe the wittiest man in illumination has lost his delivery, his timing, the punch line. After all, he is 75 and German. Seriously now, how many Germans have made you laugh? How long did you think he could keep us smiling and dreaming?
Frankly I was disappointed with many of the recent undergraduate-like concepts and executions of his new pieces, however, it is not time for this man to hang up his thinking cap. Although men and mice in stacked metal cages and exploded porcelain doll head chandeliers did not have had the succinct voice or impact of his past work, he continues to joyfully experiment with new technology by making it human and approachable, and he keeps on breaking the perceived rules of functional lighting, sometimes literally.
Beyond that ratty ponytail, the man is looking good, healthy and strong. Ingo has no off switch. In fact, he and his team are currently showing at the Cooper-Hewitt that features numerous site-specific installations for the museum's daunting and serious spaces.
So raise your glasses and toast Ingo, just don't do it with a plastic cup, he deserves better than that.
Ingo Maurer is now showing at the Cooper-Hewitt, National Design Museum with his show "Provoking Magic: Lighting". It will run through January 27, 2008. I'm not going to miss it.
Thankfully we're not the only ones doing street art around DUMBO, Brooklyn. We're always on the look out for new street art, and one of our favorites popped up during the Art Festival the other week.
Ellis is an undercover shadow artist; he traces the shadows of objects on the street such as a bicycle propped against a fence, a tree, a lamp post. The next morning the shadow has moved, but the trace is still there, a reminder of the shadow that once was. If you're lucky enough, you'll pass by at the right time, and see the shadow fit perfectly into the tracing.
We've taken a few pictures of the work around DUMBO, which unfortunately is no longer, my favorite being the writing captured outside Bo Concept, mirrored and shadowed, non-sensical both in its reality and its shadow.
Amongst the open studios and performances, some small white stickers garnered a little attention plastered onto the sides of walls around DUMBO this week. And the people responsible were Nova Clutch's own Michael and our friend Otis, the Illegal Art duo.
The stickers simply said on them "I spy with my little eye" left blank and unassuming to be filled out by passers by. Here are some of the results.
I have to be honest and say that although I love DUMBO, open studios around the neighborhood can mean that finding art gems is a bit of the old needle in a haystack. But when you find some it's certainly very gratifying. Walking around DUMBO, slightly disgruntled because the few food establishments are inundated and overwhelmed and because you have to spend long stints of uncomfortable silences in elevators with other people searching for good artwork, you can get, well, a little moody. Well I can anyway.
Then I found two fantastic painters in one space. A nook of a studio in 55 Washington is where Clifford Shikler, part owner of the local organic food market Foragers, paints and draws. His work is technically good, mainly portraiture, with uncanny observations of people's quirks and personalities. Not pictured here, but on his website, Shikler's beach paintings have a stange nostalgia about them. With the language of family snapshots, mostly with a vacational feel, the pieces give your a voyeuristic sense of unease, as you are witness to at once familiar but private moment. I for one am looking forward to looking in on more of those moments in the future.
Friday night signalled the opening of of this year's DUMBO Art Under the Bridge Festival . We began it with the opening of Jane's Carousel on Water Street. Dating back to 1922, Jane Walentas purchased the carousel in 1984 and has had it painstakingly restored and brought it up to an amazing condition.
Although I have seen the carousel spinning slowly and quietly within the old and stuningly beautiful old Smack Mellon site, this was the first time I have ever seen anyone ride it. The effect of such a huge, beautiful carousel spinning in such a magnificent building, with old merry-go-round music playing is quite stunning. It made even me hop on it for a spin.
Jane's Carousel is located at 65 Water Street, yes, right near Jacques Torres.
For those of you that don't know it's London Design Week this week, you know, in London. Unfortunately I'm not there, I'm on a little island in Massachusetts called Nantucket. The one from the limerick. Anyway, if I were in London I would be visiting our good friends Designersblock and our stand at Tent London. We were kindly invited by the nice people at Tent to exhibit some pieces that we have recently redeveloped and we took them up on the offer.
The second generation of Still Life (pictured above) is a series of blank canvasses that hang on a wall unadorned until someone walks by. When you walk past, lights spring up from behind the canvas and follow your movement, disappearing when you move away. When you're gone, they're blank again, but you wouldn't know it because you're not there.
The second is Reading Light. It's a functional, intuitive bedside light. You know when you're reading a book in bed and you get all sleepy and have to fumble around for a light switch when you've finished reading? Well, not here! You simply put the book down on the Reading Light's platform and the light slowly dims off. Picking up the book again turns the light back on. It's a simple and functional product that is entirely based on bedtime ritual and movement. Of course, if you don't read, it's not very helpful.
You can see both these pieces at Tent London from this Thursday September 20th to Sunday September 23rd at the Truman Brewery in East London.
Yeah, I know, you all have the Cities I've Visited application on your Facebook profile, so you can boast show how well-traveled and worldly you are. But this window installation is different! Firstly, it doesn't let you brag that you've been to Uruguay, but asks where you were born and where you live now. Unfortunately for me the line from London to New York is one well-pencilled. If you have a more interesting trajectory, head over to The Apartment on Crosby Street and make it public.
When I first arrived in New York, enthusiastic, scared, green and extremely English, no one could understand a word I said. My first day at Karim's was pretty scary and I really didn't know anyone in the city.
Luckily Roger Arquer was there. He befriended me (or vice versa, I'm not sure) and made me laugh. He came to Karim Rashid's office karaoke outing that I initiated because I knew no one and thought that seeing a very tall Egyptian-Canadian designer in a pink suit singing in Chinatown would be funny (it was). He came round for dinner and instead of bringing the usual bottle of wine, he brought a pineapple. I liked him. He became my friend and helped me acclimatize to a difficult new city.
Hopefully I did the same for him when he moved to London two years later. And now, finished with his Masters at the best college in the world, and a bit of press later, Roger is
launching his new project, Fish Bowls at London Design Week. He'll be joined by other Spanish greats like El Ultimo Grito and Marti Guixe.
As a creative professional, I often come up against the notion that a client knows someone who can do the job cheaper. It may be a different agency, but sometimes it is someone's aunt or cousin that just got Photoshop. And they can always do it cheaper. Because they aren't as good. There is a huge disparity between good and bad design, and in this industry you get what you pay for.
Cue Paula Scher's design templates. The idea is that you download a design template and hey presto! you have a brand identity. To me, what she is saying is that you don't need a design professional to create an identity – you just need a template and a computer. Yes, perhaps some designers aren't very good, and what you end up with is something like the templates shown. But a good designer does custom, crafted work. A logotype is not about the typeface, it's about what is appropriate and right for the client. If you slap a typeface on a page, that is not a logo. It doesn't replace a designer. Yes, you can choose a letterhead like a card at Hallmark but it isn't going to brand you like a considered and proprietary logo. If you're the same as everyone else, get a template. If you have something particular to offer, get a professional.
(via dwell)
My friend O.K. often tells me he is going off to "look at art", an activity that reeks of duty and time-filling passivity. But isn't that what most of us do when we shuffle stiff-legged through galleries and museums for a post-brunch cultural digestif? We crane our necks and bodies around a few rooms while talking to ourselves, or our friends in hushed, knowing tones of tension and negative space while singing the preconditioned praise of twisted shapes, moist luminosity and the power of the line. We'll gaze from a safe distance at a Close, or feel inclined to comment on the gravity of abstract human expression of a Klein. Pardon my saying so, but they leave me flat. Even a Calder doesn't move me, and Brancusi doesn't choose me to be part of his experience.
I suppose that is why the art gods and now the MoMA have given us Sculpture: Forty Years of Richard Serra to right these wrongs. Serra has pushed himself and his materials to help bring us to our senses and experience his creations beyond that of a detached viewer. Sure, there are others that have included us in one way or another, but for me, it is Serra's work that is the most inclusive and engaging to date.
Truth be told, I loved this show so much that I am not going to bore you, or myself, with a feeble attempt at explaining how this man seemingly willed massive sheets of 2" (5.1 cm) thick steel into velvety ribbons and corridors within which the imagination and body run effortlessly between technical wonder and absolute joy. However, I will implore you to make the trip to the MoMA and wrap yourself in this this master's life and work in person. But then again, only do it if you are willing to look past your stoic art face and flash a toothy grin.
As if to prove my old saying, "If you want to understand something about the United States, just ask a Romanian to draw you a picture", the Museum of Modern Art commissioned Bucharest-based visual artist Dan Perjovschi to examine the contradictions and hypocrisy of the US and world's current social and political state through man's highest art form, cartoon graffiti.
Drawing upon black humor with a big fat black magic marker, Perjovchi's crudely drawn lines capture the complexity and stupidity of our American and media driven world on a white 40' x 20' (just a guess) wall within the The Donald B. and Catherine C. Marron Atrium.
The piece, aptly titled, "What happened to us?, captured my attention and sucked me in to experience the artist's imagination while he addressed stereotypes, clichés, the general B.S. that is our human condition.
As I walked away from the wall, I wasn't quite sure if the pain in my stomach was caused by the uncontrollable fits of laughter or the gut wrenching pain of Perjovchi's stealthy delivery. Not since Nadia Comăneci has a Romanian made me look at the world with such wonder and discomfort.
Sadly, the installation ends August 27, 2007.
You have just over 2 weeks left to visit Blind Light, an exhibition of work by Antony Gormley in London. The main piece is a huge glass box filled wiht dry ice and is intended to make you think about disorientation and space. And scare claustrophobes. Walking around the box is fine. Losing track of the door isn't so fine. Also newsworthy are the life-size bronze figures that he's put on the roofs around the gallery, which apparently cause 2-3 people a day to call the police and report would-be suicide jumpers (see the photos below, stolen from Natasha.)
The exhibition is on at the Hayward Gallery in London until August 19th (do anythingto avoid peak times). The main picture above is courtesy of the Hayward Gallery.
A common complaint by people I know that don't live in the city is the lack of a sense of community in big cities. The absence of saying hello to people in the street, no borrowing a cup of sugar from your neighbors, the lack of things for their children to do.
My experience of living and working in DUMBO, New York has been entirely different from this supposed view. People say hello on the street, everyone knows their neighbor and luckily for us, the neighborhood remains creative.
One of those artists that keeps the neighborhood creative is Nova Clutch's own Michael, who is also part of the public art collaborative Illegal Art. Illegal Art may be most famed for their book, Suggestion a tireless effort to collect random yet meaningful suggestions from New Yorkers, but their projects continue to grow and evolve.
To Do has culminated in a few installations, namely on the window of The Good People at The Apartment, at Clark University, at the weekend in the East Village at 1st Avenue and 6th Street and today, on Front Street in DUMBO< Brooklyn. Having just stumbled off a plane from Europe, I helped Illegal Art and a number of gratefully received volunteers put up 5376 pink and yellow post its on the window, which was kindly donated by Two Trees Management and the Walentas family.
As is there signature, Illegal Art always seeks to create interactive public art to inspire thought and encourage participation by anyone and everyone. To Do was created so that people could share their own "to do" lists, making something normally very trivial and private very public. As they often do, Illegal Art gives us a chink to look through at the microcosm of someone's personal thoughts, while also maintaining the macrocosm of the impact of the project as a whole.
There are so many things going on in our beloved neighborhood, it's quite tiring to 1) keep up with it all and 2) get any work done. Oh well, play in DUMBO it is.
So admist our Bastille Day celebrations on Saturday, we fitted in heading down to the park to see Australia's Strange Fruit production of Swoon.
The production is apparently inspired by swaying wheat in the wind, which is exactly what it feels like. The background for this show was amazing, framed by both the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. It was a stunning day, and the vibrant colors of the costumes were beautiful against the bright blue sky. The women's costumes were particularly good because of the hoops in the skirts, making them really seem like they were floating in the air. I almost wish that we had seen their "field" production with eight not four players, as I think this would have been more in tune with the dramatic backdrop. Either way, it was really enjoyable and quite a spectacle to see.
There's only one real reason to have a rooftop terrace in Brooklyn and that's to see the magnificent fireworks from here on July 4th. Well, that and the growing vegetables, drinking cocktails and general revelry that comes with it. And although we didn't have our usual blowout party this year, we did watch the fireworks and make all the noises that one is compelled to make when you see controlled pyrotechnics. I have to say, they were bloody good this year with some fancy ones in the inventory; smiley faces, pretzels, the big apple and some stars. Luckily for us we see the two shows at once from our vantage point – one looking over New York City and the Empire State and Chrysler buildings and one over the iconic Brooklyn water tanks. I have to say, I think I prefer the Brooklyn side...
