Art Vent

Letting the Fresh Air In

2007

September 14, 2007
Okay, so I don’t wear glasses. Although my whole family has worn them, I never have, except intermittently, when doctors tried to pressure me into it because of an astigmatism, or told me I was at that age. I can already hear my friends groaning, because they’ve heard this from me so many times before, but I believe that glasses are much more widely prescribed than necessary—yet another stupid industry that uses too much plastic—and if you’d just look up from your computer or book and focus afar every few minutes and do yoga eye exercises every day, you won't need reading glasses (I do the exercises before getting out of bed in the morning or, as readers know, when I inadvertently find myself in the same room with performance art). I’ve discovered, however, that this is waaay too much trouble for most people, the ones who are groaning right this minute, but I’m going to plunge ahead regardless. Sometimes, when tired or under a lot of stress, I might not see so well, maybe even for a week or two, but then it normalizes. Sometimes, early in the morning or late at night, things are fuzzy, so I just don’t bother to read, or I use a magnifying glass. But most of the time—with plenty of light—I can read the names in a phonebook or the ingredients on a vitamin bottle. And I’m doing very exacting work with painting right now (unless of course, I put on a pair of glasses and discover that I’ve been an expressionist all along). So because my friends won’t take it from me, I’ve asked Paul McCartney to do a little yoga eye exercise demo and put it on YouTube. Here it is:



To read: Jacob Lieberman, Take Off Your Glasses and See
September 12, 2007
This is part of an email yesterday from Graham White, who did such a great job of revamping my Web site, http://caroldiehl.com/:

Hi Carol!

...I made a second visit to the Serra show and this time is was not as crowded, which was nice. I couldn't believe the Plexiglas fence they put around his work on the top gallery. My experience of Minimalist sculpture has always been that it works in large part by interacting with and empathizing the planes and volume of the containing space, so what could demonstrate a less sensitive appreciation to the art than to cage it in like an animal at the zoo? I guess the inverse is more likely accurate, the animals behind the cage are the viewers.

I've also noticed that for a striking number of museum goers, photographing the art has entirely replaced looking at the art. I have been spending some time in the museums this summer, and constantly see people walk up to a painting, camera in hand, snap the image and then the wall text, and move right along, all not more than 5 seconds duration, if that. Or first check the label to see if it is an artist worth capturing. One painting I gave up on seeing one day had two rows of photographers, about 12 or 15 people, with cameras going, and the second row with one hand raised above the heads of the first for the grab. I can't imagine most will ever be bothered to look at the photos if they wouldn't look at the painting. Like
counting coup.

Well, that's my art vent for today,

Graham


I've noticed the same phenom at rock concerts: people talking, texting, holding their cell phones up for others to listen, walking in and out to get drinks or whatever, as if the music were incidental, just an excuse to get together--surprisingly better in Philadelphia, Northampton, and Boston, where people actually dance, worst in New York. When I saw the last Sigur Ros tour in Philadelphia there was, as part of the piece, a 10-second moment of silence, which was duly observed and experienced by the audience--a powerful moment. When I saw them in New York it was "Whoo-hoo!"

Is there a way to configure the context for art so that it's more conducive to contemplation? Or are we just fogeys complaining that the world is going to hell?
September 11, 2007
I made a second visit to the Serra show and this time it was not as crowded, which was nice. I couldn't believe the Plexiglas fence they put around his work on the top gallery. My experience of Minimalist sculpture has always been that it works in large part by interacting with and emphasizing the planes and volume of the containing space, so what could demonstrate a less sensitive appreciation to the art than to cage it in like an animal at the zoo? I guess the inverse is more likely accurate, the animals behind the cage are the viewers.

I've also noticed that for a striking number of museum goers, photographing the art has entirely replaced looking at the art. I have been spending some time in the museums this summer, and constantly see people walk up to a painting, camera in hand, snap the image and then the wall text, and move right along, all not more than 5 seconds duration, if that. Or first check the label to see if it is an artist worth capturing. One painting I gave up on seeing one day had two rows of photographers, about 12 or 15 people, with cameras going, and the second row with one hand raised above the heads of the first for the grab. I can't imagine most will ever be bothered to look at the photos if they wouldn't look at the painting. Like counting coup.

Well, that's my art vent for today.
September 11, 2007
All I did was ask a simple question about the railings he’s making for my house, and I get back an email with this attached from John Umphlett—sculptor, teacher, shop tech and all-round wizard—who is a friend from when I taught at Bennington. Clearly the project is driving him buggy.

September 9, 2007

You know how teenagers are always tipping back in their chairs? And how their elders are always yelling at them for it? Alvo Aalto observed this tendency and instead of fighting it, designed this chair for Baker House at M.I.T. so that students could tip with impunity. Accommodations in the dorm, which Aalto designed in 1949, are still the most sought after at the university. If he’d built it in 2007, I’m guessing he might have added a skateboard ramp.

This is me. Dava Newman took the photo.
September 2, 2007

My review of Robert Irwin’s PaceWildenstein show is in the September issue of Art in America with a photo that will tell you very little about what it was like to experience that installation. Irwin used to refuse to have his work photographed, and with this piece especially, it’s easy to understand why. A photograph can only reproduce what’s concretely there, and what was so palpable about this piece was what was not concrete—the sense of energy that resonated in the space between the panels on the floor and ceiling. In a conversation with Irwin at the time I was writing the review he described his intuitive process: “You don’t plan it,” he said, “you court it.”


Robert Irwin
Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue
³
PaceWildenstein, 545 West 22nd Street, New York City
December 9, 2006 through January 27, 2007
Photo by: Genevieve Hanson / Courtesy PaceWildenstein, New York
August 28, 2007
Quoting an artist friend on resuming her teaching duties: "At least on a superficial level my attitude is excellent."
August 26, 2007
The heat last night, even in the Berkshires, blotted out all rational thought, so I forgot to take my camera to Ken and Ritch’s ninth anniversary celebration, the theme of which was “Bondage.” Therefore I can’t treat you to a shot of Nathan in red Jockey shorts, his bare torso artfully draped with an orange extension cord. You just have to believe me that he pulled it off. A red motorcycle helmet, round and bright as a lollipop, was the topper. Nathan is moving to London next Saturday and the Berkshires will be less lively—and more dressed—without him. And should extension cords become all the rage in London, you’ll know what happened.

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