Thursday, May 5, 2016
When I was younger (in high school) we smoked a lot of pot and played a lot of board games. If the pot was strong, we would skip Risk for something light, like Masterpiece, which bills itself as "The Art Auction Game."
The Gallerist is a new art-themed board game that uses a number of different "actions" to accumulate points. As such, it has more in common with Risk than it does with Masterpiece.
Here is a "rules overview" of The Gallerist that concludes with the line "The player with the most money is declared the winner."
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Will I ever visit an art museum again and not hear someone suggest to someone else that Art and the Art World are synonymous, or are those days over? Is Contemporary Art now an atmosphere that exists independent of what we think of when we think of space and time? A Strictly Ballroom land mass, a Devil's Island of the mind?
"Again and again the same situation…"
During a recent walk through a large art museum I overheard a fifty-something woman tell her adult daughter that the Art World that administers Art -- that is Art -- is "sick. It's gross. It's just like high school."
Yes, the history of Art is full of cliques, movements and isms -- popular people and invisible people -- but divisions like these are endemic to any gathering, be it in politics or in economics, in churches or in moques.
But what if the Art World is high school, at least as middle-aged people remember high school? Are there equivalencies? Is it worth our while to go down that road?
In the high school that is the Art World, then, would the artists be the jocks?
Would thecurators be the cheerleaders?
And would the critics be the yearbook committee?
As for the gallerists, would they be the teachers?
And the collectors -- would they be the substitute teachers?
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Monday, May 2, 2016
Sunday, May 1, 2016
In the film version of John Fowles's novel The Magus (1965), "Conchis" (Anthony Quinn) recites a poem for "Urfe" (Michael Caine) that he claims is from the T'ang Dynasty:
Here at the frontier there are falling leaves.
Although my neighbours are all barbarians, and you,
You are a thousand miles away,
There are always two cups on my table.
But no such poem exists -- at least not from that era. What does exist are a couple of poems that, when combined, might supply it.
Saturday, April 30, 2016
The Instant Coffee list serve has posted the Rennie Collection at Wing Sang's call for a "Fine Art Technician". There are a number of requirements, but this one stood out:
ability to stoop, bend, kneel and to stand for up to eight (8) hours per day
Friday, April 29, 2016
I am only just now getting around to reading the articles in the 2015 Harris's Farmer's Almanac. One of these articles is on front porches and their importance to Americans, particularly those in the South.
The image up top appears near the end of the article, and as you can see it features a drawing of a farmhouse, rendered in some detail. This in contrast to the footpath leading to it, which, despite its foregrounded presence, has forsaken any pretence at realism lest it detract from the subject at hand.