Where: Otto’s Shrunken Head
538 E 14th St, New York, NY 10009
When: Tuesday March 15, 6-10 PM
Honoring: Carol Cole Levin
Benefit Chair: Marsha Owett
Tickets: Basic Beaches: Artist tickets: $75, General admission: $150, Ticket for an artist: $75 Private Islands (get your own table!): Individual tickets: $600, 2 tickets: $1000, 4 tickets: $1800. Pick them up here!
Where: Otto’s Shrunken Head
It’s currently 21 degrees in New York and will drop to -3 tonight—cold as hell. On the horizon, our March 15th Spring Break-themed benefit acts as a beacon—a reprieve from the cold and bleak days that winter brings. This year we honor feminist artist and collector Carol Cole. Buy these tickets today—space is limited.
This Joey Ramone GIF just about how we feel at the end of this Friday. It’s the weekend—let’s have some fun.
Last weekend I attended a pop-up group show from Public Art Projects on a quiet industrial block of Juarez just south of the Material Art Fair on its last day. The group launched a pop-up exhibition that mischievously embraced site-specificity in a venue that is by nature the most mutable of non-places: a television studio.
“The career of the American filmmaker Charles Atlas has been a steady but slow-burning fire for more than 40 years,” wrote Holland Cotter just last year. Despite pioneering the media-dance art form, and collaborating with dancers and performers like Michael Clark, Marina Abramović and Leigh Bowery, Atlas didn’t have his first solo until 1995 at the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía in Madrid. That’s a big name institution to land a solo with, but it’s only been within the past decade that he’s had a steady stream of solo presentations at institutions and galleries. Those include the Tate Modern, London’s Vilma Gold, and Luhring Augustine in Chelsea.
Why the CV gap? This question naturally came up in the context of Atlas’s recent screening of his early works in Toronto. Organized by Pleasuredome, the event was a cross-section of motion movies, narratives and video featurettes accompanied by a book launch of his first monograph at Art Metropole.
Confession: for two years of my time at art school, I was a fibers major and I never learned exactly how sewing machines work. Now that I’m seeing this, it totally explains things like incorrect thread tension fucking up your bobbin. H/T BoingBoing for sharing this Wikimedia Commons entry by Russian contributor NikolayS. Nikolay, you’ve made at least one person much less ignorant of the world’s arcane machinations.
Last week, I visited Mexico City’s Zona MACO (México Arte Contemporaneo), Latin America’s largest art fair. This was on the heels of our visit to Material, a satellite fair that impressed Paddy and me beyond our expectations. Walking into MACO felt just like visiting the most art fair-y of art fairs by comparison—which is to say, the immediate experience was predictable. There were long convention center lines, groups of “fresas” queuing up to take selfies in reflective sculptures, and familiar overexposed blue-chip names such as Alex Katz and Richard Prince. (“Fresas” is Mexican slang for “yuppies”, literally translating to “strawberries”.) MACO devoted a good chunk of floor space to design wares—from furniture to high-end sunglasses. I wasn’t immediately inspired to lend the event much thought beyond snapping some photos. With a few days of reflection, I realize Zona MACO is noteworthy for its extremes. And that’s not just the quality or quantity of blatantly commercial crap. For all the lackluster blue chip staples on the floor, I also saw an impressive amount of well-curated project booths that smartly positioned emerging artists and galleries in dialogue with the establishment. These two poles served a useful purpose: they lay bare how contemporary art fairs function. Zona MACO is the best model I can think of to demonstrate how for-profit fairs must work to remain both commercially viable and discursively relevant. For better or for worse, MACO excels at both.