Items by diana jih

artblog

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  Long Island City serves up art and some local charm

  Posted: 13-March-2012, 12:30pm CET by diana jih

  If you haven?t been to Long Island City (LIC), the mix of highrises and empty warehouses may appear less than welcoming. However, a few hours in the Queens neighborhood can quickly change the mind. Having only visited a handful of times, I find more to keep me on the other side of the Queensboro Bridge each trip I take. Saturday?s stop for a performance at SculptureCenter led me back to one of the best converted art spaces in New York?a trolley repair shop renovated by Maya Lin. SculptureCenter — with upstairs galleries and a dungeon-like basement exhibition space — continues the tradition of featuring ground-breaking contemporary sculpture.

  

  Yve Laris Cohen, performing in his installation in the basement of the Sculpture Center

  I?m squeezed into a basement back corridor the size of a rowhouse grocer?s alley to view Yve Laris Cohen?s site-specific performance. In a doorway viewing portal between two puffy-coated ladies with thick Queens accents?”I can?t see a thing. Can you? Oh wait, I think it?s starting! Shhhh. Sorry, I think it?s starting” — I see Cohen perform his janitorial ballet and infuse the space with the trauma of his spinning motions that fail to avoid the rough stone walls along the corridor.

  

  Takashi Horisaki work installed in one of the Center's basement alcoves

  At the end of his dance-concealed-as-labor, as he leans against the sweat-streaked wall, Cohen confesses the history of his installation through heaving breaths. Just as the narrow walls shape his movements, his installation has shaped the space, he says. Many artists effectively transform the basement’s dark caves into installation space or project their video work inside its tiny tunnels. The archway constraints limit the number of viewers who can enter a space at one time, providing the best vantage points for video of any gallery I?ve ever visited.

  I’d stumbled into SculptureCenter last summer looking for directions to nearby Five Pointz, a factory overrun by aerosol artists from all over the world. Partially visible from the G train but best appreciated on the ground, make sure to take in the ?graffiti Mecca? and support its cause the next time you?re in Queens. Uncertain if developers will destroy Five Pointz to provide more luxury condos for the encroaching Midtown crowd, artists nevertheless continue to update its tags and murals. This weekend I noticed a freshly completed Whitney Houston memorial, still wet on the concrete.

  

  Darren Bader's piece "cat made from crab meat" - Photo by Diana Jih

  Sunday’s visit to MOMA?s contemporary satellite, PS1 provided art both irreverent and moving, like Darren Bader?s solo exhibition Images, which includes living or edible sculptures. The first two rooms feature abandoned animals he offers for adoption. The ?cat who used to date Don Henley? (one of the whimsical titles given the cat pieces by the artist) is gone and will in a couple of weeks be replaced with another feline for visitors, who will experience its adorable sculptural tactility and purrs.

  

  Darren Bader, "iguana and croissant" - Photo by Diana Jih

  Next door, Bader’s ?very old cat? or ?iguana and croissant? await viewers under heat lamps, which keep both the lizard toasty and the croissant from going stale.

  

  Darren Bader, "Chicken Burrito, Beef Burrito" - Photo by Diana Jih

  Bob Dylan on loop lures you into a room that seems curiously bare until you look over your shoulder to read on the wall card ?chicken burrito beef burrito? and see the pair stacked by the far window. If you still haven?t fallen for Bader?s clever wit, care for some sculptural salad? The veggies on view in another room get chopped into a meal for viewers to consume along with the art twice a week. In his artist?s statement, Bader explicitly tells you he doesn?t ?want to sound so didactic? as he struggles to present art which he loves and to ?find a home for it.? He?s an effortless showman, whose lack of agenda allows his ideas and genuine style to delight all audiences.

  

  Surasi Kusolwong, "Golden Ghost" - Photo by Diana Jih

  After running around PS1?s halls and getting tangled up searching for gold necklaces in ?Golden Ghost (The Future Belongs to Ghosts),? a colorful pit of yarn designed by Surasi Kusolwong, I crossed the street to Court Square Diner, where I had dined once before. Its Kermit green décor and a mirrored-wall cityscape, including the local icon Silvercup Studios, line the leather booth I plop into. My favorite waitress, who insists her name is ?Waitress,? serves up my warm brownie sundae with a side of syrupy nuts that she spackles on top. Her scratchy voice and don?t-give-a-damn-demeanor melt away as she stuffs a handful of red and gold wrapped bon bons and soft mints into my hands for the two-hour bus ride home.

  

  Perfectly warmed brownie sundae - Photo by Diana Jih

  Though Long Island City is a long way from Philly there are points of comparison. Between snarky ?Waitress? and the fresh, unpretentious art found in alternative spaces, wudder never tasted so much like buttah.

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  Office Hours ? Zoe Strauss at the PMA

  Posted: 8-February-2012, 1:04pm CET by diana jih

  ?What the hell?? sums up Zoe Strauss?s rationale for choosing one of three paintings from the archives of the Philadelphia Museum of Art to hang in her temporary office at the museum. This could easily also be the reaction of unsuspecting passers by to one of Strauss’s billboard photos. Countless people must by now have stumbled on the citywide series of  billboard prints while dozing off on SEPTA, crossing Gray?s Ferry Ave., or looking up from their iPhones. As the familiar city landscape reveals a less familiar face or empty storefront pictured where an advertisement once was, viewers have been intrigued, delighted, and even challenged to make sense of the phenomenon. It’s all part of Strauss’s show Zoe Strauss: 10 Years Retrospective, an exhibit that extends from inside the PMA to the streets of the city.

  

  "Woman Laughing In Indiana," Ridge Avenue and Tenth Street. Photo from artmostfierce.blogspot.com.

  Rewind 10 years: Zoe Strauss is given a Canon Rebel, the tool to finally start creating the beast of an installation she has been envisioning for years. Hoping to transform the space under I-95?which has itself transformed Strauss?s South Philly neighborhood?and to capture the changes over time that this community has undergone, Strauss set up ten annual exhibitions under the highway, with prints for sale of the many Philadelphians she?s taken portraits of, and prints of the many places in the city and elsewhere she has found inspiration.

  Fast forward to January 14th, 2012: Questlove is performing at the 10 Years opening to a crowd that can?t quite believe they?re at a PMA reception. Waiting in line to get your photos taken at the party booth, you only wish your prom had been this cool, complete with fabulous Conestoga Angels drum line performances.

  

  Zoe Strauss in office.

  Fast forward about ten days: I?m sitting on the floor with Strauss during her office hours eating chips and asking about the three paintings around us. Back to that ?what the hell? portrait behind Strauss of a young man with dark hair and a wine colored scarf who glances backwards at the viewer. She forgets on the spot who it?s by and admits she doesn?t even necessarily like the painting that much. She simply embraced the chance to keep looking at it in her office and perhaps figure out its intrigue. This small painting exudes a mystery that I pick up from Strauss?s more abstract work, in addition to her shots of empty storefronts and faded signage and graffiti. Trying to understand any messages behind these images, I ask Strauss if they?re piecing together a mixed-up urban poetry to match the social landscape she?s imagined for us. She tells me the messages are ?open and available for repurposing.? Just as Strauss converted expanses under I-95?not unlike the FDR skate park and Boat People guerrilla farmers? markets continue to do in similar expanses?she?s moved on to repurpose commercial billboard space. These works on the billboards tell ?an epic narrative about the beauty and struggle of everyday life??Strauss?s words.

  

  While the billboards evoke the Love Letter series of murals by Steve Powers, which Strauss was a champion and documentarian of, the billboards’ likely fate in a few months is to turn into a new string of tasteless ads for Delilah’s. Their inevitable evolution mimics the mutability?intrinsic to Strauss?s work?of signifiers, community, and individuals. One empowering adoption of a mutable image, “We Will Win,” represents a very specific and deeply personal sentiment of AIDS advocates over the past 30 years. Strauss confirmed that the repurposing of her visual message in the Witness exhibition that long-time friend David Acosta did at the Asian Arts Initiative perfectly represents her willingness to let her photos? messages reincarnate many times over. Not enough can be written about the impact of Strauss?s work, which resonates with Philadelphians today, but which has the power to reach communities other artists and institutions can?t and won?t.

  

  Zoe with Alice Neel's "Last Sickness"

  Turn around: The Alice Neel painting behind me features the face of the elderly woman in a patchwork bathrobe which must read differently by everyone from the public who has visited Strauss in her office (PMA Director Timothy Rub’s satellite office, which he gave to Strauss for the duration of her exhibition). She takes a moment as we?re talking to admire the complexity of emotions expressed by the woman in ?Last Sickness,? which, not unlike her work, is up to the viewer?s interpretation, subject to multiple reads, and void of pedantic descriptions.

  Cello music sounds faintly down the hall, and I ask Strauss about the fate of the Megawords room where I waited before entering her office, and where Philadelphia Orchestra?s Hai-Ye Ni, propping her cello against plush pillows on the ground, is practicing for the afternoon show.

  

  Hai-Ye Ni in Megawords

  The Megawords installation runs kitty-corner to her retrospective, and like the artist?s office hours, serves as a new programming model for the PMA. Visitors from 10 Years and Van Gogh mill in and out of the installation wondering ?what the hell? happened to the ?scary,? old ATM/phone booth dug-outs. Megawords, ?an experimental media project,? raises eyebrows with an explosion of photos, zines, chalkboard, and publications for sale in the tiny alcoves. Megawords also seeks to document the ?ongoing narrative? of urban life with their installations and concurrent events.

  

  Hai-Ye Ni in Megawords

  Fast forward ten more years? Strauss makes no predictions for what will become of the new spaces?possibly now with chip crumbs in the carpets!?created for her exhibition inside the PMA and all over the city. My hope is that this wonderful experiment (please, include more dance parties!) produces many more experiments in its wake. Philly deserves thought-provoking and purely awesome ?what the hell? moments for many more than ten years to come.

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  We the People at the Fabric Workshop

  Posted: 18-November-2011, 10:29pm CET by diana jih

  Reclaiming American themes in art is a tall order, since Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness is locked in the popular imagination in a space both vast and nebulous. Nari Ward offers instead to reinvigorate the experience of that space.

  

  Photo credit: Carlos Avendaño

  During his artist?s talk (video clip here) at The Fabric Workshop and Museum (FWM), we gathered around his pieces to hear about the materials and themes illuminated by his personal attitudes towards technology, immigration, and geopolitical signs and signifiers.  We the People unites us all regardless of identity, and allows us to impose our own subjective experience on the work.

  

  ?Glory,? 2004 - oil barrel, fluorescent & ultraviolet tubes, computer parts, plexiglass, fan, camera casing elements, paint cans, cement, towels and rubber roofing membrane - dimensions variable - Photo credit: Will Brown

  When introducing his 2006 Whitney Biennial piece, “Glory,? Ward traces back the origins of the American flag tanning pattern inside the bed of recycled oil barrels. Hailing from St Andrews, Jamaica, Ward moved to New York as a teenager. His work challenges beliefs about Jamaican culture as well as post 9/11 American culture.

  We approach ?Glory? from Ward?s transnational points of view as well as our individual perspectives. Faced with my own set of commercial appropriations and cultural misinterpretations as an immigrant, I ruminated on the UV rays behind stars and stripes encased in oil barrels, while fellow audience members further developed Ward?s ideas on national identity amidst the violence of American foreign policy.

  Before moving on, we?re given insight into the video playing in the main room, where much of the reception is held. We walk by ?Father and Sons? only to arrive at it after the talk with a richer sense of the themes this piece involves. Upon regrouping upstairs in front of ?We the People? – the Constitution preamble script made of hundreds of used shoelaces – Ward reveals the topical fact that he recently passed his citizenship test.

  

  ?We the People,? 2011 - In collaboration with The Fabric Workshop and Museum, Philadelphia - used and hand-dyed shoelaces - dimensions variable - Courtesy of the artist, Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York, and Galleria Continua, San Gimignano Photo credit: Carlos Avendaño

  His own words and story underscore the ?new presence? these oft-read words take on through use of the materials and the large span of the piece. Opposite this work, a wall of black TV backs named ?Airplane Tears,? also on a similarly grand scale, re-examines the materiality of salvaged objects?in this case, ?technology on its way out.? Elsewhere in the show, multiple meanings exist in the repurposed shoes, fences, and pews, as well as newly-created commercial logos. For viewers with media images from Seattle WTO and Iraq War protests seared into their memories, logos like ?Third World Bank? perhaps appear dated. However, Ward?s prescient ?Charging Bull? on Wall Street reminds us how often his ideas spanning the last couple decades hit the mark.

  While artists talks can occasionally over explain works to their detriment, Ward?s words in regards to his recent citizenship helped me return to ?Father and Sons? with a deeper resonance in regard to the recorded ?incantation.? On screen, teenage sons of an African American police officer recite muffled Miranda rights while sharing a podium with their uniformed father.

  

  ?Father and Sons,? 2010 - single channel video projection - 3 min, 52 sec - Image courtesy of Lehmann Maupin, New York

  The camera focuses on the sons? hands moving over the police badge and catches the father advising the sons. Ward intricately layers the anxiety, tension, and paradoxes these figures represent in American society. Along with these uncertain external expectations, the muffled voices express the uncertainty of Miranda rights post-Patriot Act in America. Not only did this piece blur authority of the state with familial dynamics, but for me it also blended with Ward?s personal citizenship experience. Though pre-dating his citizenship test which ends with the Pledge of Allegiance, the recitation of sacred rights invokes all concerns about eroding rights of American citizens. Lastly, the artist talk served to unify the multi-storied FWM space that, like Ward?s work, presents a shared but mutable experience.

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  Miss Rockaway Armada ? experience the dream at the Art Alliance

  Posted: 6-November-2011, 1:30pm CET by diana jih

  Miss Rockaway Armada shines once more upon a shipwrecked shore. On view at The Art Alliance, her rambling installation takes over the Wetherill Rittenhouse mansion until December 30. The original videos for the two magical flotilla nights along the Schuylkill greet you in the foyer. Look down to notice you are stepping on a blue and green bubble wrap river of dreams, which sails into the first room to the left. The converted armada brings you to your knees this time to completely transform the experience of the fruit crate cave?formerly the flotilla?s walk through wave.

  

  Miss Rockaway Armada installation at the Philadelphia Art Alliance - once a wave, now a cave. Photo by Tod Seelie.

  My old favorite sculpture seems to have sunk into the plastic wrap waters. I crawl inside and look out once more. Instead of swinging lanterns, a stream of chandelier light diffused through a waterfall of multi-colored glass bottles drips into the cave through the slats.

  The first stop in the new Miss Rockaway experience at the PAA delivers on the collective?s commitment to work ?within the material reality of a specific urban landscape,? says Melissa Caldwell, Director of Exhibitions. Springing out of the plastic water like geysers or horns from a monster beneath the deep, a ?tornado? forest of repurposed Philly electric pole signs surrounds the cave. Reading ?We Buy HoCash For CarVerFresh? further roots the Philly audience?s personal experience of a transformed dream or fantasy of our specific material reality.

  Let me tell you about a dream I had steals our hearts once more before skipping town to trade them for playing cards and whiskey somewhere down the Schuylkill that doesn?t quite exist.

  As we move into the familiar ?Amfibitheater? room, look up at the billowing silk parachute and around the corner for the familiar fish no worse for wear out of water.

  

  Amfibitheater photo by Tod Seelie

  Spilling down from above a grand staircase, multicolored nautical ropes pool at your feet like the still connected pieces of a broken chandelier. Music cranks out ?songs for people slipping into the sea? as the lights and sounds and smells pull you in a million directions.

  Various beautifully arranged piles of refuse seem to break through the walls and fireplaces of the old Wetherill mansion like the house in Jumanji, except nothing is trying to kill you. The building takes on a new life, breathing and belching Miss Rockaway?s sea shanties and allowing her pieces to sink and rise like in the water. The mounds and varying heights of installations create a sea-sunk quality, fitting into the Armada narrative.

  

  ?amplified interactive sound sculpture made from the guts of a piano and an organ? photo by Tod Seelie

  The installation is seamless and avoids the ?see what I made? tradition of artistic display, a tradition Caldwell said the group was concerned about. Their mission is to interact directly with viewers and they succeeded. Miss Rockaway?s romantic vision of trash as treasure and freedom through art asks viewers not to “see what I made” but instead be a part of what the group made. The participatory flotilla, parades, and shows in Kensington, Clark Park, and Rittenhouse are ?communal events…unmediated by the art world or institutional influence…[that] reinforced Miss Rockaway?s continual interest in a non-hierarchical exchange of information,? the group stated.

  Down on the Schuylkill last month, children?s shrieks from the bicycle Ferris wheel, among other exclamations?some less delightful when (Spoiler Alert!) dangling crabs surprise you with sight and smell inches from your face?attest to Miss Rockaway?s adherence to her playful, anti-intellectual mission.

  So much celebrated interactive art currently involves digital components?the common modes many of us interact through. Miss Rockaway smashes your iphone and re-invokes the carnival. She reminds us how art also interacts with audiences through sensory modes of escape and transportation. Her artists express the freedom of escape from material possessions and modern society with their shrine in loving memory of real life Huck Finn counterpart Poppa Neutrino. On the second floor of the mansion, Miss Rockaway honors the lovable wanderer whose generous acts read like those of a vagabond Santa Claus. Close by, the dark mystery room filled with Kensington crabs stink up the place and are ready to pinch you in the face as you stumble in. Just as Poppa Neutrino?s life inspired these artists, Momma Rockaway?s recycled art palace shows us what art and the urban experience could be.

  

  Debris and refuse at Miss Rockaway Armada

  ?Miss Rockaway Armada doesn?t actually exist,? Caldwell states. With recent attention in the media to movements, the art community in Philadelphia has paid attention not only to Occupy Philly but also, in lending their spaces and members to Miss Rockaway. Space 1026 and FLUX space, among others, have, according to Caldwell, thought more about what is involved when organizing around an idea and event than to a location. The anonymity of Miss Rockaway (the members are not named; all the credit goes to the group) also speaks to their politics and hints at some of the reasons they were hesitant to bring their work inside an institution. Miss Rockaway, after all, is no Rittenhouse dinner party kinda gal (did I mention the crabs?). However, through the interactive techniques employed and use of salvaged materials from RAIR and The Resource Exchange, she sticks to her guns.

  The Art Alliance?s new direction as Philadelphia?s site for Art, Craft, and Design harkens back to the Arts and Craft movement?s push for craft economies and social reform and serves as the perfect site to display the ?radical potential of the DIY movement.? Caldwell aims to expand upon ?the idea of ?craft? as a verb,? as process and experience, unafraid to admit that it works toward a utopian ideal.

  

  ?reflective light sculpture made of discarded wood and clear glass bottles? photo by Tod Seelie

  Though the exhibition operates as ?partial remnant? to the Miss Rockaway event, the installation experience and accompanying programming serve as rich events in and of themselves. Thanks, Miss Rockaway, for allowing us to linger on your shores admiring your flotsam and jetsam, the touch of driftwood, and the smell of bonfire smoke and moonshine.

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  ReVolving Spaces takes over the Italian market ? Fringe review

  Posted: 25-September-2011, 12:07pm CEST by diana jih

  Answering the summertime call of Martha and the Vandellas, Frances Gremillion and Colleen Hooper delivered laughin? and singin’ and music swingin? in the streets of South Philadelphia.  Beginning in Bardascino Park and dancing through the residential alleys and curbside stalls of the Italian Market, ReVolving Spaces incorporated the spirit of the Fringe as well as the long tradition of site specific art. On an almost cool summer night?still wet from the storm but warmly lit?Bella Vista never looked better than when Gremillion, Hooper, and their effortlessly-talented company of dancers and musicians snake-charmed the audience through her streets. My first Philly Fringe commenced with the unstoppable Miss Martha Graham Cracker and as the festival continued, it showed off many of Philadelphia’s best acts.

  

  Company chosen by Colleen Hooper and Frances Gremillion in "ReVolving Spaces."

  Bella Vista and the Italian Market — with its low, low produce prices and unique smell of ham hock and bloody feathers —  have inspired many, including the Mural Arts Program.  The richness of the atmosphere?molto autentico?gave Gremillion and Hooper a lot to work with. Relative newcomers to South Philly, the two choreographer/dancers took many steps to settle into the neighborhood. After a disappointing bocce ball season?both women joined the league upon moving here?Gremillion and Hooper looked to dance and poetry to pay further homage to local culture.

  

  Company chosen by Colleen Hooper and Frances Gremillion in "ReVolving Spaces."

   

  With olive-skinned grandpas looking on from the nearby cafe, the company whirled around Bardascino Park, while the band competed to be heard with angry Asian women down the street who seemed to be reprimanding their children. Using tables, stumps, and each others? backs, the dancers leapt into the air and off the walls as a light wind picked up leaves that mimicked the dancers? moves.

  A second act of songs and poems brought our attention to the beauty of Christ Presbyterian Church and the surrounding architecture. Lilting harmonies then lured us to the nearby alley as the dancers continued to use the environment to amplify the grace of both the red brick structures and their movements. The soft-yet-athletic motions rendered the everyday stone buildings vibrant and beautiful. The choreography gestured to the changes in the community over time, about which the neighbors often told the young women in passing. The walkabout sparked curiosity in most audience members and onlookers. We re-examined our long held perspectives on the neighborhood; and the residents, in turn, examined this strange procession. As the dancers began to mix with the audience, the show glided over the cobbled alleys and drew your eye in every direction.

  

  Company chosen by Colleen Hooper and Frances Gremillion in "ReVolving Spaces."

   

  Adopting a more in-your-face South Philly attitude with each act, the audience, myself included, shamelessly snooped into every street-level window of the row homes we passed expecting to see drooling babies and late night dinner parties suddenly start perform, too. A gibbous moon served as a spotlight. Though the regulars at Mark Anthony?s barber shop cared not what the crowd formed for, puppies and youngsters yapped around our heels. Then the after-hours smell hit our noses like a big garbage pizza pie telling us we goddago.

  The band picked up and before you knew it, we formed a New Orleans style Second Line back to the park. This impromptu parade felt like a fitting farewell to Bella Vista, like a goodnight kiss signaling the end of summer. Additionally, the Second Line let Gremillion, a native Louisianan, sing and dance praises to other local cultures which have influenced her. For the audience, the entire performance acted like a liberating exercise as we transformed from timid onlookers to untrained voyeurs, and finally to amateur performers. In fact, it?s Gremillion and Hooper?s shared hope that their site-specific piece encourages more than just Mummers to engage and interact with the streets of Philadelphia. All we need is more dancin’ and music, sweet music.

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  Miss Rockaway Armada dreams on the muddy, mighty Schuylkill

  Posted: 8-September-2011, 1:11pm CEST by diana jih

  ?Oh that the sky is just an ocean. Won?t you float away with me?? sang the satyr to the children, while sweet accordion music gently rocked the crowd of onlookers along the banks of the mighty Schuylkill. It was the Miss Rockaway Armada, presenting a spectacle of performance — and sculptural boats and other objects created entirely of recycled and salvaged materials. A motley crew manned the flotilla: they were three parts gypsy, two parts sexy pirate, two parts circus freak, one part flotsam, half part jetsam, three quarters fish and one quarter goat. The flotilla, produced by The Philadelphia Art Alliance and christened Let Me Tell You About A Dream I Had, successfully stole every child?s imagination and left some in the crowd wishing they would be kidnapped by this band of circus-pirate-gypsies.

  

  Miss Rockaway Armada, at Schuylkill Banks Park. Photo by Todd Seelie

  The fleet followed a monstrously large fish, whose tea-service-tray fins and layered-carpet gills elicited many smiles. After waiting in line and signing so many forms it seemed you were signing away your first born, we boarded the flotilla and were pleasantly surprised by the innovative uses for table legs, fruit crates, and all assortment of trash and treasure. Indeed, the contraptions, ornaments, and objects each told the tale of sunken treasure, revived and reworked, to create the whimsical ?Amfibitheater,? ?Hoodraft,? and other settings for the rotating group of performers including aerialists, accordion players, and shadow puppeteers.

  

  Inside the raft. Photo courtesy of Nichon Glerum.

  The most impressive sculpture allowed visitors to creep inside a wooden wave made of contorting crate slats, which from the inside twinkled with light coming through the slats from lanterns outside — like visual Morse code. The dancing lights, carnival music, and one-seat bicycle Ferris wheel attracted onlookers far above on the Walnut Street Bridge.

  

  Raft construction at Bartram's Garden.

  Different rafts took on natural shapes like waves, or in some cases geometric arrangements. They all had embedded, cut-out shapes throughout. I could easily imagine each wonderfully seasick vessel scuttling to the depths of the river. Most of the salvaged and distressed surfaces appeared sea-stressed and worn, adding to the armada?s charm.

  Instead of sailing much farther, this armada will come apart at The Art Alliance building. You can catch one more Miss Rockaway procession and performance before she reaches her final resting place at The Art Alliance building (September 30-December 30, reception, Sept. 30, 6-8pm):  Kensington, Saturday September 10 beginning at York and Front at 5pm and ending at FLUX Space at 630.

  

  Aerial view of Armada at Walnut Street. Photo courtesy of Nichon Glerum.

  Braving storms, the crew of local artists, whose labors are chronicled on Miss Rockaway?s blog , assembled pieces built at the building site on South Broad St. and at Bartram?s Garden, which provided the perfect backdrops for recycled-material art projects.

  

  Miss Rockaway Armada, near Bartram's Garden. Photo by Todd Seelie

  When I visited the site at Bartram’s, which is adjacent to a Waste Management plant, a train rattled by over the nearby bridge, which stirred the murky waters of the Schuylkill. There could not be a more natural birthplace for Miss Rockaway to emerge, as oily river bubbles belched a ballad to her faded glory?a sea shanty that could easily go something like this:

  Here rolls Miss Rockaway looking mighty fine
  Here rocks Miss Rockaway, oh if she were mine
  Lift your petticoats above the Shoe Kill wudder
  Dancing with the lights. I sigh, I shudder
  Gales of August refuse to let go
  Fire from the sky, fire down below
  Here rolls Miss Rockaway looking mighty fine
  Here rocks Miss Rockaway, oh if she were mine
  Asleep in the deep. Some may still ask
  ?Does she float?? Oh, I reply, ?She can sing.?

  

  Photo of accordion player courtesy of Nichon Glerum.

  The original Miss Rockaway sailed from the head of the Mississippi in Minneapolis to its mouth in New Orleans. Another collective of dreamers and artists, including Swoon, Tod Seelie, and Space 1026, challenged their own craftsmanship and commitment to sustainability by building these salvaged eco-vessels. The Philadelphia version carries this tradition onward while re-imagining the 19th Century Arts and Crafts movement?s ultimate goal of thriving communities of designers and builders?ships of fools, friends, and craftsmen.

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  NYC Pride ? Really happy together

  Posted: 5-August-2011, 12:00pm CEST by diana jih

  Over a month ago, trophy brides and husbands, gold diggers, friends and family celebrated marriage equality in New York state at NYC Pride. I danced and cheered down 5th Avenue for most of the parade with my friend, who worked to organize her section. I felt as proud of my friend’s rallying actions as her mom, who accompanied her at the rally this year for the first time. My friend Margo also joined to blast them beats and blow them bubbles alongside one of the tamer and possibly straightest contingents of the parade: the high-school-aged Young Democrat interns, who blushed each time someone wanted to billboard one of their campaign stickers on a round or mound of flesh.

  

  Photo by Diana Jih

   

  We took our place on 35th Street behind what looked like a group of drum corps members several months too early for Lunar New Year parade. The Gay-sian group, however, quickly distinguished themselves with sign slogans a bit too raw to repeat though completely appropriate for the day. Chutney Pride and other Asian groups looked great under streams of rice and ribbons strewn from floats and the crowd.

  

  Photo by Diana Jih

  I wondered if one sign, ?Queer Asians Happy Together,? alluded to the Wong Kar-wai film, Happy Together , though I hope the sign is about a happy ending and not a reference to the acrimonious end of that film?s love-affair between two men, who more often than not were miserable together. Kar-wai?s thoughts on what it means to be ?happy together? extend to a personal acceptance of one?s past and agreement to live happily with that past in order to move forward.

  

  Photo by Diana Jih

  With Kar-wai?s ideas framing my thoughts, I find that the equivocations on federal marriage equality by politicians including President Obama ring hollow for many reasons especially those surrounding a state?s right to make its own marriage laws. The history of segregation, discrimination, and many of our nation?s ugliest offenses lived under the banner or behind the ?code? words ?states? rights.? Lawmakers must remember and accept the legacy they reaffirm through states? rights rhetoric, which keeps them from moving forward on federal legislation.

  

  Photo by Diana Jih

  If you wish our nation and its body of laws to enjoy stability like an old oak tree, you must envision it to include gnarled roots and many scars. Its boughs may need paring, but it cannot stop growing and occasionally flowering. At NYC Pride, I felt lucky to share with New York citizens in their state?s most recent successful blossoming.

  Happier, gayer, sweatier, hoarser together, by the time we reached 15th street, the crowd looked like an ocean on every side. To my right, a gorgeous drag queen?s golden heels wore out before her heart did. Broken heels in hand, she ran to catch up to Chutney Pride?s float, her red feathers streaming in the air behind her plume.

  For more information on marriage equality laws and issues see these sites:
  New York Times article on NY state law’s passage
  FiveThirtyEight.com

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  Ryan Trecartin?s Any Ever at P.S.1

  Posted: 29-July-2011, 12:38pm CEST by diana jih

  I finished viewing Ryan Trecartin?s Any Ever and left bloated with images, memes, and satires. The exhibition, which runs at P.S.1 through September 3, is composed of seven independent but interrelated videos. Trecartin?s work relies heavily on references to reality television and leaves viewers rattled by the ever-blurry distinction between his video world and our own. Any Ever carries a lot of virtual hype, but invites you and your emotional reaction to roll around on a real world couch made of walkers and hospital mattresses.

  

  Ryan Trecartin, Any Ever (2009-10). Photo courtesy of LA Times.

  Resist the temptation to simply watch Trecartin?s work online, despite how fitting that medium seems. The P.S.1 show captures the ride-like experience Christopher Knight portrayed in his column after he saw Any Ever at LA MoCA. You walk into the first room and the first of seven videos, each around forty minutes long, is already playing, though you don?t hear anything yet. Part of the Trecartin experience involves strapping yourself in — not with a seat belt but with large headphones tethered to the installation, which provide the audio for the video.

  Delightful surprises await you in each room?s unique set-up. The room’s theatrical viewing arrangements range from the previously-mentioned walker-beds to futuristic conference rooms coated in sterile white to whimsical seating on ladders. Some of the installations include objects referenced in the videos, which either immediately tickle you or act like Chekhov?s gun, something you wonder about as you sit and watch, trying to figure out how the real world things factor into the videotaped action.

  

  Ryan Trecartin, Any Ever (2009-10). Photo courtesy of PS1.

  Once admitted into his post-race, post-gender, new media world, you see how Trecartin?s Disneyworld and Disney Channel influences start to melt together along with the milieu of media and culture he has encountered in various studio settings from Rhode Island to New Orleans, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and Florida. The first four movies involve characters played by Trecartin and friends, who encounter career and safety pitfalls and a parade of schemers and dreamers. The characters’ smacking blood-red lips spew coherent-enough dribble in one disjointed scene after another so a semblance of narrative is conveyed. Although the narrative comes through also simply from the overused montage editing and mood music from bad movies and commercials.

  Despite the absurdities in speech and costume and the break-neck speed of the editing and dialogue, these nonlinear movies make a frightening amount of sense for anyone who has watched enough melodramas or YouTube celebrity videos, or experienced, even second-hand, the reach of viral marketing.

  I agree with Massimiliano Gioni , the director of special exhibitions for the New Museum, who applied critic James Woods’ term ?hysterical realism? to Trecartin?s work when the artist showed at that museum. I further defend ?hysterical realism? as not necessarily comparable to other contemporary art, but a form that nonetheless illuminates the modern condition. James Wood critiques ?hysterical realism? as a literary genre whose elaborate absurdism fails to convey how a character feels but instead reproduces social theories on how the world works. Many viewers and art critics have welcomed Trecartin?s constructions of social reality. But an entire reality, encompassing the multitude of themes he employs, sometimes feels better suited for a novel. Trecartin?s videos honestly overstimulate and confuse you.

  

  Ryan Trecartin, Any Ever (2009-10). Photo courtesy of Ryan Trecartin and Elizabeth Dee (via artinfo.com).

  The blue-toothed and tan characters swim fluidly through multiple ages, races, nationalities, and genders.  A young girl with a Visa card tattooed to her forehead encapsulates the underlying conceit for many of the films — market research. But, jump cuts to Telenuevas and music videos make no sense but fail to throw you for a loop.  And the threat of violence from the destructive behavior becomes, finally, an aesthetic. With nothing to fear and no one to fear for, I nevertheless could not help but start to feel a bit afraid towards the end of how plugged in to this mediated world I must be in everyday life.

  It took me less and less time in each room to suddenly sink into each world?s explosion of different themes. Two minutes into ?Temp Stop,? I felt like I knew the character of a busy busy Blackberry boss-bitch dressed in black. One minute and without needing to put on headphones in the absurdly-constructed gym-machine room, I recognized the play on fitness culture and threw on headphones to enjoy the seemingly-pregnant instructor on film rhyming ?stretch? and ?vetch? with oomph. The last and least absurd room for me, ?The Re?Search,? involves tween tweet-texting pop-stars gossiping viciously about each other and commenting on language in self-referential phrases, confessing their inability to spell or support ?language diversity.?

  

  Ryan Trecartin, Any Ever (2009-10). Photo courtesy of Ryan Trecartin and Elizabeth Dee (via artinfo.com).

  Not surprisingly, Trecartin has noted that a target audience for his video art is this tween age group, which has never lived in a world without Internet and which communicates through new technology, while speaking an increasingly dissimilar language to our own. ?The Re?Search?s? youthfully exuberant pace and language and ?Temp Stop?s? eerily ordinary speeches haunt you as you walk away from Trecartin?s world not sure the ride you are on is over. It?s a small and histrionic world after all.