Brooklyn Museum's "reOrder"

After seeing photos of the Brooklyn Museum's new "reOrder" exhibit (March 4, 2011-January 15, 2012), I just had to go see it in person. The renderings online looked so massive, so larger-than-life, so...glow-y. And after visiting in person, the installation is far more stunning than the pictures even give it credit.

reOrder consists of huge fabric sculptures made of flat, round frames with heavy white fabric folded and stretched from one circular frame to another below it, at varying heights and diameters. Each fabric monolith appears lit from within with a slightly blue-toned light, so that they all give off a luminescent, mystical glow. They're set up in the 10,000-square-foot hall on the first floor, which is capped with a flat glass roof. The small, green-tinted panes of glass that checker the ceiling pair perfectly with the luminescence of the exhibit, and only add to the otherworldly environment.

Each structure is rooted to the floor with heavy-looking white bases, some of which have a bulbous protrusion encircling it at just the right height to use as a bench (which museum-goers were only too happy to do). The clunky bases coupled with the light umbrellas give the installation an overall feeling of being ethereal yet solid at the same time, an effect made all the more pronounced when standing in the center of the hall, craning one's neck upward at these floating, oversized sunshades surrounding you on all sides. It was like walking through a sparkling white forest, and felt, in a word, magical.

For you architects out there, the Museum is also displaying videos of the building process and the installation and assemblage of the exhibit within the hall, sped up into time-lapse clips. It's fascinating, to say the least (and can also be viewed on the Brooklyn Museum's website).

Whatever you do, do not miss this exhibit. (It'll be on display for 10 months, so you've got no excuse not to go!)

You can find more information on this and other exhibits at brooklynmuseum.org.

And here are some photos I took (which, due to my camera's increasing quasi-brokenness, don't really do the site justice):

Everybody go to the museum!

Thanks, crummy camera, for making this shot blurry.

This dad and his daughter were really sweet. Start 'em young (art lovers, that is)!

The right outer wall.

The left outer wall.

couture BLAH

Living in New York City, I see "fashion" everywhere I go. I used to be somewhat into it, because it is no doubt a form of art. However, since there's not exactly an abundance of nice magazine shops or newsstands in Syracuse (much less Binghamton), the most exposure I ever got prior to moving here was the pages of "Marie Claire," "InStyle," and their ilk.

Since moving to NYC, and since commencing my attempt to work in the field of magazines myself, I've read a lot more "serious" fashion rags. In addition, I see actual stores selling the stuff from the pages of those magazines, occasionally get to see pieces in action during NY Fashion Week, and probably see women wearing the stuff on the streets regularly without even realizing it. However, the dire seriousness with which these upscale magazines treat fashion really unnerves me. It's gotten to the point that I no longer pick up fashion magazines at all, not even the ones whose photography I really like, because I can't stand sludging through all the pretentious, snobby articles, especially the ones demanding that I buy the season's new "it" item--every damn season! How are these items "must-have" if I only must have them for three months??

The fashion industry is racist, sizeist, and elitist. How does clothing, of all things, command such respect? Why do people (allegedly) quake in their boots when Anna Wintour enters a room? How do designers justify charging hundreds of dollars for a plain white tee (and why do people pay it!)? How can any industry that considers Rachel Zoe a celebrity (much less an asset) be taken seriously?

Ok, enough with the ranting. The point is, some part of me still likes the idea of fashion as art, which is why the Metropolitan Museum of Art's fashion gallery is always the section I hit up first when I get there. Currently, the Met is exhibiting "Superheroes: Fashion And Fantasy." Now, being the comic-obsessed little nerd that I am, I thought, Comic books and fashion together? Awsome!

But man, was this exhibit disappointing. It's not the exhibit itself that disappointed me, though. On the contrary, I thought the setup was fantastic. They had costumes from the original Super Man movie (!), Batman Returns, Batman: The Dark Knight, the original Wonder Woman tv show (again, !), and others. Then there were couture pieces from the likes of Jean-Paul Gaultier, Gianni Versace, and John Galliano that were "influenced" by the superhero costumes.

Here's the thing that bugged me: The couture pieces less "referenced" the superheroes, and more blatantly ripped them off! To be truthful, some weren't that bad. The couture pieces related to the X-Men were not obvious homages. The superhero used as example was the movie version of Mystique (Rebecca Romijn's blue, scaly character), while the designer pieces included feathers, metal, and rubber. The centerpiece was a technicolor feathered mermaid dress with a gold metal plate over the stomach. Likewise, the costumes that were related to Ghost Rider and The Punisher included dark, almost violent imagery, such as this cheeky motorcycle-themed ensemble:


The Superman, Batman, Catwoman, and Wonder Woman costumes, however, were not the least bit original. Check this out:


This is a piece from Rossella Jardini for Moschino. Changing Superman's S into an M does not make this an original idea! I see the parallels between Superman and branding, but this is a too-obvious way of pointing it out. How much thought really went into this? It's exactly the same as Superman, right down the the Clark Kent eyeglasses and the little spitcurl in the center of his forehead.

Here are Wonder Woman and Batman/Catwoman:



The Batman and Catwoman "references" bothered me the most. They were the least original pieces of clothing there. Add ears to the costume above and it would be Batman. Some of the couture pieces actually included bat-shaped harlequin masks. Catwoman was just as bad. Take Michelle Pfeiffer's "Batman Returns" costume, erase the white stitches, and you'll have the couture pieces. This all seems very lazy. And practically illegal. What about copyright? Why is it acceptable for high-end designers to rip off pop culture icons, but shops in Chinatown get raided for selling counterfeit handbags and Forver 21 gets sued for making cheap knock-offs?

Now I can add "hypocritical" and "unoriginal" to my list of angry adjectives above. The more of the fashion world I'm exposed to, the more I disdain it.

new article at zingmagazine.com

http://www.zingmagazine.com/drupal/node/447 or you can read it below


Censorship Exhibit at the Brecht Forum
By Leah Hansen

Thursday, November 8 saw the opening of “Censorship: An Exhibition Benefiting Artists in Distress” at the Brecht Forum. The reception featured plenty of food and drinks, live performances, and a raucous crowd the filled every inch of the relatively small gallery space. The featured artists hail from countries around the world and utilize an array of mediums, including drawing, painting, photography, video, and performance. The only thing missing was context.

No artist’s statement or biography appeared; no overall explanation of the show’s goal was on view. The press release for the exhibition, which can be found at freedimensional.org, explains that a few of the artists have faced political repercussions as a result of their controversial work, but nowhere at the actual show can one read which artists were censored and which are simply responding to the idea of censorship.

This creates a modicum of confusion. Though quite striking, Melissa Murray’s “Bag,” a four-foot graphite drawing of a nude woman in profile, sitting on the ground wearing a plastic grocery bag like a hat, doesn’t necessarily address censorship. Yes, nudity is frequently under attack by censors, but in this case, the woman’s arms and legs obscure any “offensive” parts. Moving on, one arrives at Sarah Valeri’s stunning painting, “Bright”. The 30-inch canvas features a lithe, androgynous child curled in a fetal position on a swamp bank. In the foreground, a dog with a frog riding on its back swims by; lily pads float around them. The painting’s sea of blue, green, lavender, and cream swirl gently together, and, coupled with the child’s morose expression, evokes serenity and sadness. But, again, one wonders how it relates to the show’s theme.

The pieces with clear ties to censorship cover emotions ranging from rage to hope to humor. Particularly humorous are the pieces by photographer “BKLYN Paul,” who attended the opening naked. In “Spring Street,” the artist appears naked and smirking in front of graffiti-covered wall that creates a stark contrast to his unclothed body. On the left, an amateur photographer is caught snapping Paul’s photo with a little digital camera and a woman on the right turns toward us with a big grin. Paul’s “Subway Series” consists of three photos of a friend riding the subway naked. Only one other rider watches with a scowl, while everyone else is clearly laughing. The laughter captured in these photos emphasizes the ridiculousness of the attempts by the FCC and conservatives to fine and jail people for even accidental flashes nudity. Meanwhile, no one in these photos appears harmed or scarred by seeing a naked man on the streets of New York.

Collages by Issa Nyaphaga and Bara Diokhane evoke potent anger at the lack of artistic freedom in their homelands, Cameroon and Senegal. Mel Smothers’ two Mao portraits (of the Andy Warhol variety), painted over with ethereal birds in flight, impart a sense of hope for the future.

While the exhibition is successful as a showcase of eclectic art, it fails to maintain a cohesive message about censorship. Background information on the art and artists is especially important in this context, as artists face the FCC crackdown on “obscene” television and radio programming, and the current administration’s attempts to repeal basic rights in the name of “combating terrorism.” Without an explanation tying this work together, it’s just a mish-mash of art—impressive art, but a mish-mash nonetheless.

“Censorship: An Exhibition Benefiting Artists in Distress” will be on display at the Brecht Forum, located at 451 West Street between Bank and Bethune Streets, through December 6. There will also be a closing celebration held on Friday, November 30 from 7 to 10 p.m., featuring live music and dance. For more information, visit brechtforum.org or call 212-242-4201.

mini review

One of the people I met at the Haystack Arts Camp alerted me to an exhibit currently displayed at SUNY Stonybrook called “No se sabe más: No more is know: Anonymity and the murders of women in Ciudad Juárez.” The show features work influenced by and in reaction to the hundreds of serial mutilations, murders, and disappearances of women and girls that have been going on for the last 15 years in Cuidad Juarez, a Mexican city near El Paso, Texas. I stumble upon an article about these murders once every couple years or so, and it just keeps getting worse. The Mexican government does almost nothing to solve or prevent these crimes, and the few suspects they do catch are tortured until they confess (or die), leaving serious doubt as to whether they’re actually guilty. (Confessions given under torture are almost always false, since the person being tortured will usually do anything to make it stop.) I won’t be able to get over to Stonybrook in person, but the exhibit’s website has a photograph of each piece in it, as well as a deeper explanation of this situation, so here’s a little mini-review. I hope this exhibit will teach some new people about this horrible phenomenon. The longer it goes ignored, the longer it’s going to go on.



The 13 female artists of this show each have one piece pictured on the website. Some are also accompanied by an artist’s statement or explanation of the item. Unfortunately, some have neither, and some have a more general artist’s statement, rather than an explanation of how the piece ties into the theme. The general statements almost take away from the idea behind the exhibition, as they seem self-indulgent in comparison to the heartfelt words written on the murderous situation in Mexico.

There’s also quite a wide variation in skill level. Some of the art just looks amateurish compared to the better pieces. Marisa Cornejo Kasterine’s watercolor drawing features a roughly hewn girl diving head first out the backseat door of a moving van, with five male figures seated inside the vehicle. The background consists of brown and yellow scribbles for the road, and flat red with a layer of yellow forked trees for the space behind the van. The artist’s explanation is a short treatise on the artist’s nightly dreams, which this piece is presumably based on, though it doesn’t outright say so. How, then, does this fit in with the theme? A personal statement unrelated to the exhibition’s inspiration just seems out of place. In addition, the drawing itself is unimpressive in its child-like quality. It’s a purely two dimensional drawing: no depth, no shadow, and simple line rendering of the figures and vehicle, right down to the horizontal lines trailing the van to indicate motion.

Kasterine’s drawing fits in neither with the exhibit’s theme, nor with the skill level in the more accomplished pieces, such as Jain Hutzell’s sinewy carved wooden sculpture. Her upright log has subtle flows that vaguely resemble a human body and a stretching hand near its top, as if it’s reaching out for help.

Erica Arce’s ceramic sculpture, however, is by far the standout piece of the show. It’s a ceramic, mutant human torso painted cream with dusty gray in the corners and cracks. The gray corners and allover scratchy texture make it look dirty and beat-up. The figure’s head, back of the neck, and back of the shoulders are jaggedly broken off, and its arms clutch its belly at the base of the elongated torso. A split down the figure’s center, and a bloody red stain at the broken edge of the shoulders, make it all the more disturbing. I only wish the online photo were bigger, so I could get a better look at the details and the shreds of clay scattered at its base (I can’t tell what they are from the photo). Overall, the figure evokes pain, sadness, and serious abuse. It sympathizes with the mutilated and murdered women of Cuidad Juarez. Taken in a broader context, the figure can be seen as representing the women across the globe who are maltreated and killed every day while their government and society do nothing to stop it and the rest of the world remains ignorant or apathetic.

I wish the website included bigger and more photos, and it’d be nice if media were listed with each piece. At the very least, they ought to list the titles of the pieces pictured online. But I guess the website really isn’t the focus; the idea is to GO to the show.

For those who ARE able to go to Stonybrook, the exhibit is located in the Student Acitivity Center Gallery, which is open Tuesday through Friday 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., and will be on display through November 2. Website is http://studentaffairs.stonybrook.edu/sacgallery.

back in business

I have been a very, very bad little blogger lately. Actually, I've been an absent blogger, really. Working on the thesis and being out of town took serious priority. But grad school is officially over, I'm back in NYC, and it's time to return to this poor, neglected blog.

First, a short recap of my time spent at the Haystack Arts Camp in Deer Isle, ME. I was there for two weeks, met some really nice people, and got to do lots of art. Also, the food was shockingly good. I expected it to be gross vegan tofu nonsense every day, but there was a huge variety, and LOTS of yummy baked goods for dessert at lunch and dinner. I learned lithography, and made three sets of prints during the first week. I pretty much just took it easy and hung out during the second week, instead of doing more lithos. I needed a vacation. Plus there was only one printing press and eight students, and everybody snatched up the time slots before I could sign up for any, unless I wanted to do it at 3 in the morning (no thanks).

Lithography, by the way, is done by taking a flat limestone, and drawing on it with grease-based pencils or ink. Then you coat the whole thing in gum arabic and do some stuff with caustic chemicals (like lithotine, acetone, and my personal favorite, nitric acid!). You eventually roll grease-based ink onto the stone. The places you drew absorb the ink, and the rest of it absorbs water. So you coat the stone with a thin film of water when you're ready to print, and roll grease-based ink over the entire stone's surface. The drawing absorbs the ink, and the naked parts repel the ink ('cuz it's oil and water--get it?), then you run it through the press and the image goes onto a piece of paper. FUN!!

Here are the three lithos I made and the photos they're based on:

This photo was taken in the print studio at Haystack,
using my Mac's built-in camera set to "comic book effect."

Here is the actual print. I painted the eyes blue
with watercolor and acrylic paint.


This one was printed on this sheer cream paper called
chin colle, which is then affixed to the white paper.


This is Joe's cat, Clark. The photo was taken by a friend of his
who I do not know, but is a super talented photographer.


This paper is dark tan in real life, but my scanner didn't really do it justice.


This is a photo of Joe from a year ago, of which I fiddled with the contrast.



This one was printed on really lovely light blue paper, but again, the scanner didn't pick it up so well. Also, the margins are way bigger in real life, but my scanner can only do eight and a half by 11 inch-size paper.

Since getting back, I've been attending my usual galleries and art activities. I saw Pirates of the Caribbean 3, which was surprisingly good. It got pretty bad reviews as I recall, but I thought it was way better than number two. It was a bit confusing, what with all the new characters who were only in it for a few minutes, and three hours was too long, but in general it was still really enjoyable. Johnny Depp was as fantastic as always, and Keith Richards was a nice addition.

I saw the Simpsons movie on its opening night as well, which was awsome. Honestly, I was really expecting it to be lame. The show itself is nowhere near as good as it was a decade ago. A couple peple I know complained that it was just an hour and a half long episode, but to that I say, then it's the best episode they've made in years. Seriously. The whole theatre was laughing out loud through the whole thing. It had just the right amount of classic Simpsons silliness and jabs at pop culture and politics.

I also went to the Rubin Museum Friday night, which I'd never even heard of before Joe pointed it out to me. It focuses on Himalayan art. It's got six floors of art and a swanky bar on the first floor. On Fridays it's free after 7 p.m. and open until 10. And if you buy a drink (of any price), you can see their Friday night movie for free. It currently houses three exhibits: "What is it?" on the second floor (through Oct. 28), "Wutaishan: Pilgrimage to Five Peak Mountain" on the third (through Oct. 16), and "The Missing Peace: Artists Consider the Dalai Lama" on the fourth and fifth (through Sept. 3).

"What is it?" was separated into four sections covering "Where is it made?", "Why is it made?", "How is it made?", and "What is going on?". The art on display was all kinds of stuff--sculpture, paintings, embroidery--that mostly consisted of large scenes and/or minute detail. Then all the pieces had long explanations that answered the question of whichever section it was in. I got kind of tired of reading so much text after a while because it was making me pay less attention to the art itself. So I eventually just stopped reading and spent my time staring up close at each piece. Everything was stunningly beautiful. The colors in the paintings on fabric were shockingly bright and the statues and sculptures had some of the most impressively minute detail I've ever seen. And of the text that I did read (which was a lot), it was really fascinating. It explained the roles of the deities pictured, and the symbolism of repeated imagery, and the process that goes into some of the common mediums and processes.

"Wutaishan: Pilgrimage to Five Peak Mountain" wasn't nearly as interesting. It focused on Manjushri, the Bodhisattva of wisdom, who lives on Mount Wutaishan. Joe and I kind of breezed through this part to get to "The Missing Peace," which was fantastic! It consisted of art inspired by or featuring the Dalai Lama, created by people all over the world. It covered pretty much every genre of art: photography, painting, video, installation, ceramics, sculpture... And there was a really wide variation in genders and nationalities among the artists, which is unusual (but much-welcomed) for contemporary art in a museum setting. One of my favorite pieces was this small participatory installation of a shelf holding a number of spools of golden thread. Museum-goers are instructed to stand in front of the shelf and pull the thread out to arm's length, then let it drop to the floor. One and a half spools were empty and there was a big pile of the thread clustered in one spot. I wish I'd written down the piece's explanation (and its title and author for that matter) because I'm gong to bastardize it really horribly here, but the idea is that the many arms' lengths of thread represent, like, joining hands all across the world. I think I'm inadvertently trivializing it with my crummy explanation, but I assure you, it was moving.

As for the overall feel, The Rubin is one of the best organized museums I've ever been to. The pieces on the walls are sufficiently spread out that you never feel overwhelmed, but close enough that the place hardly feels empty. Floating columns and display cases are placed so that they don't obstruct your walking path. The whole place was really clean and displays looked consistent throughout. The lighting was perfect, the air-conditioning was comfortable, the crowds were minimal (it is in a pretty off-the-beaten-path location), I could go on for a while here. Plus--hello!--open till 10 on Fridays with free admission and a free movie? I will definitely be going back in the near future.

it's about damn time

Readers may have noticed an usually large gap in time between the last entry and this one. It's not because I'm not going to lots of galleries and events (au contraire! I've done more in two months of NYC life than I did all last semester in The 'Cuse.), it's not because I'm too busy, it's not even because I'm too lazy... It's because my wireless internet simply refused to work in my apartment (though my room mates have no trouble connecting and I have no trouble connecting everywhere else other than my own home). So I've gone without a regular internet diet for nearly two months now. Marta (the Hungarian room mate) allows me the use of her computer anytime I want, but I try not to take advantage of her kindness, so all computer activity has been reduced to the bare minimum. Today it occured to me that the semester is nearly half over and I'm nowhere near halfway done with the research and work required of the numerous papers that must be finished within mere months. So I sucked it up and called 1-800-geek-squad. It took five hours to figure out the problem and fix it. And that's at a rate of $98 an hour. So let me say this:

I highly, highly recommend 1-800-geek-squad. The guy was very professional, really nice, and extremely polite (he asked permission to use the bathroom like three times). I didn't feel at all skeeved out by letting this stranger into my home. He explained what he was doing periodically, so I know he wasn't just fooling around to charge me more. And then he only charged me for two and a half hours' worth of work. I was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown, because I was thinking I would have to pay $500 just to get my internet working. That amount of money could pay for half a new computer! But no, I only had to pay $250. Plus he fixed my spyware detector and ended up cleaning up the whole computer, so now it runs faster too. $250 is a whole lotta money for me, but compared to the potential $500, I feel like it was totally worth it. I feel so much less stressed out now that I have internet. I can finally really get serious with my schoolwork. There's also a 100% guarantee, so if the internet somehow craps out again, Geek Squad will come right back and re-do it for free.

On to the art! I've been attending so much stuff lately that I don't even remember it all. But here are some highlights:

Kai Kuhne show during fashion week. Hugely fat fur mini-dresses, a knit one-piece bodysuit with jodhpurs, and a fat feathered mini-dress that made the model look like a slutty Big Bird. Scary.

Many, many art galleries in SoHo and Chelsea, including free brunch at Max Protetch last weekend. I was actually less than impressed by the gallery space itself (or even the current artwork), but far be it for me to complain about free food and art. I also followed it up with a trip to the Chelsea Art Museum, whose "The Food Show: The Hungry Eye" and "Dangerous Beauty" were deliciously clever (a floor made of scales in front of a CGI video of a scary-skinny runway model strutting her stuff, par example; or the bulimic family of dollhouse toys all vomiting into little toilets with the baby barfing into a training potty). P.S. They carried zingmagazine in their gift shop!

The Fountain Art Fair. A two dollar donation got you free drinks, a decent DJ, and a one-inch button featuring an illustration of-what else?-Duchamp's groundbreaking piece, "The Fountain." I fell in love with these pictures that were harsh black outlines of a mushroom cloud over top of a delicate pencil drawing of a big old rose. The flowers were so subtle that you didn't even notice it's a rose until you took a really good look. But they were so skillfully drawn that at first I thought it was a very light black and white photo. And the nuclear bomb over a rose? I know it's a bit of a cliche, but the mushroom cloud was very graphic and cool looking and that image is totally appropriate for the current political climate.

The zingmagazine release party! So much fun! To read about all the specific preparations I took part in, you'll have to mosy on over to the anonymous intern blog, but the party itself was fantastic. Trendy people + musical chairs + pinatas filled with condoms featuring photos of art on their wrappers + more pinatas filled with artist-related candy (paintbrushes, crayons, and cigarettes-so cute, no?) = a rolicking good time. Hopefully photos of the event will be up on the website soon. I can't wait for the new issue to finally get to the U.S. (it's being printed in Singapore currently). I love my internship.

Assuming my computer feels like behaving itself from now on, many more entries are on their way!

P.S. Ireland in a week!!

Last review of the trip

Here is the official review I wrote about the Museum of Sex's exhibit on Japanese comics:

Working Title:
When Worlds Collide: Porn in the museum

A dark room with black walls, small windows cut into each at varying heights so that one must stand on toe or crouch down, face pressed to the hole, to see inside. A peep show? Not quite, though a look within does reveal nudity, prostitution, and all manner of graphic sexual behavior. Set a few inches into the windows of the walls are Japanese prints and drawings detailing sexual escapades dating from the Edo Period (1603-1867) all the way up to modern day’s pornographic manga (comics).

On display through March 6 at New York’s Museum of Sex, Peeping, Probing & Porn: Four Centuries of Graphic Sex in Japan provides an intimate glimpse into the evolution of sex trade and gender roles in Japan, and chronicles the country’s relationship with the western world and its own rapid modernization.

The Edo-era woodblock prints that begin the exhibit feature prostitutes in action within the brothel district. Most include startlingly detailed depictions of colorful engorged genitalia, the artists not shying away from bodily fluids and closeups of penetration. By the time Commodore Perry arrived to force the opening of Japan’s ports in 1854, scenes of rape and sex with demons and animals appeared, a reflection of the West’s invasion. Then western-style clothing shows up and women’s roles appear less victimized, the notes accompanying the pictures pointing out joyful facial expressions and consensual relationships.

Manga exploded after a WWII ban was lifted. Hentai (pornographic manga) now depicts every type of sexual activity and relationship imaginable, signaling a less repressive society in which women are no longer submissive slaves. Wide age gaps, bestiality, and gay relationships are common themes.

The exhibit’s dark walls and bright red floor, small viewing windows, and fabric screens hanging from the ceiling to divide the room into chronological sections all add up to a sense that visitors are participants in a peep show. The copious number of written explanations, however, also provide ample historical context. This mix of sexuality and intellectualism almost desexualizes the pornography, yet the graphic nature of the images keeps it firmly entrenched in masturbatory fodder, making for a uniquely paradoxical museum show.

Working title: Life in Progress: Kimsooja’s fleeting photos.

Becoming a star of the art world is no easy task. One must have the right style at the right moment, and even then, fame is most often a fleeting fad. How appropriate, then, that Korean artist Kimsooja’s current photography exhibition, at the Peter Blum Gallery in Chelsea, discusses the passage of time.

A Wind Woman, on display through Jan. 13, consists of a group of large-scale color photographs (roughly three feet wide by two feet high) that are stills from her 2003 video of the same name. Kimsooja shot the video while driving in Hawaii, with the camera shutter open at length so as to capture the movement of the landscape as she passed by.

Most of the photographs have placid clouds in the background, while glimpses of what are presumably foliage and contours of the land blur horizontally in the foreground. Dark lines trespass across each photo, exposing the photographer’s movement.

While standing in front of the photos, there is a distinctive sense that the scene is passing you by, not that you’re moving past it. The pictures urge the viewer to hurry, as though time is running by. Since the movement is already captured on film, however, forever sealing it in constant motion, attempts to catch up are a waste of time.

The very first photo in the array is nearly all white, with only very pale grey blobs. The last one is all black. The white evokes birth, with the following photographs life, and the stark black presumably death. It’s a seemingly heartless way of looking at the world. You’re born, life passes you by in an instant, and then it’s over. But within each fast-paced photo, the clouds in the background remain still. The static clouds are the moments that matter enough to stick with you.

Human existence is comparative to a drop in the ocean of time. Kimsooja’s photographs resonate with this short history, and the even shorter life span of each individual. Yet they’re also optimistic, reminding us that to cherish and remember something is to keep it still despite time’s attempts to steal it away.

i heart art

Yesterday I went to the art park for something like the fifth time in the past two weeks. Jon and Raquel joined me at artist Al Zaruba's discussion. He showed slides of his work and some videos of his dancing in these massive costumes he makes that look like dumpy, mutated Big Birds. It was pretty impressive. A lot of the time when I listen to artists speak, their explanations seem kind of like bs. But Al seemed pretty genuine. Or maybe I'm just getting better at understanding art through this program. I'm going back to the park again tomorrow for music and then a mini film fest. The last film night I attended there was amazing. The films were all fantastic.

The most fun thing about yesterday's trip, though, wasn't actually the artist's talk. When we were leaving, Raquel, Jon and I noticed a cornfield on the side of the driveway. So I go "Do you want to pick some??" And we pulled over and actually tried to pick corn. Then not only was the corn not ripe yet, but there were mosquitoes everywhere. So we pretty much just waved our arms around for a while trying to avoid them and then got back in the car. It was pretty ridiculous.