AFC attended the Matthew Day Jackson opening Fortunate Son, at Perry Rubenstein Gallery Saturday night, a show which is a special treat to Thanksgiving Day enthusiasts every where. The material of colonialism was a common thread in this exhibition, and judging by the variety of medium alone, it has to be said that at the very least, the man is focused. Jackson is a master of culling disparate materials together, and unifying them often through obsessive processes (pattern making, needlework, drawing etc). It is tempting to call this approach formulaic, but since the results are so varied, it is difficult to see that criticism holding water. Also, it is nice to at least pretend that this blog gives enough room for artistic practice to occur, without us having something snide to say about it.
To mark the official opening of the show and the arrival of AFC, (the latter admittedly being coincidental), a touching rendition of “Revelry” was blown through a giagantoid conch sculpture footed by a tree root. The only thing this performance lacked was a release of hunting dogs, much to the chagrin, I’m sure of Perry Rubenstein. From this point on, the conversation shifted from conch blowing to “How do I get my hands on a drink?”, because although beer seemed to be everywhere, getting the stuff was like trying to score smack. Perry Rubenstein’s bio, should well be followed with a semi colon and the phrase Always know your dealer, because that’s what it took to get a beer at that opening. Nearly everyone I spoke to was hatching a scheme suss out the drinks from the back office, one woman even admitting, that she had flashed the card of a well known art critic given to her earlier just to scam a glass of wine. When AFC spoke to the director about the galleries beer policy, she explained, that the drinks provided were not for public consumption, though she graciously allowed me to have one anyway. Unfortunately, AFC isn’t opening any office back doors for me since I write anonymously, but as luck would have it, the Internet is not my only connection to the art world. In addition to this, I also own my own copy of The Art Diary. Which means the doors may never stop opening…in fact, it’s like they are revolving.
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