Contemporaneous Extension


Cinematic Photography or Photographic Film?

Despite being somewhat stagnant on the freelance writing front for the last month (I blame moving out of my Brooklyn apartment, a lack of inspiration, and a general desire to be anywhere but New York in the dog-days), I have a recent piece that went up on Whitehot Magazine that I am incredibly proud of. I was introduced to Vanessa Albury, a daring new media artist working in the mediums of 16/35mm film and photography of all breeds, at Peter Clough’s One and Three Quarters of an Inch show at St. Cecilia’s last year (it was brilliant!). Her piece was an exotic thrill, an incredibly overwhelming display of tropical foliage that wrapped up the central, spiral staircase in the convent. Poignant scents ascended the stairwell and several lights illuminated the lush vegetation for dramatic emphasis. The piece was inspired by her grandfather’s Miami greenhouse and maintains Albury’s emphasis on triggering collective and public memory, milking and challenging time, and astutely hypnotizing the viewer. The profile recently published analyzes her oeuvre of photographic and cinematic work spanning approximately ten years and links it to new, even unfinished, works.

Below is a small passage, but check out the full review here.

Photography has been regarded as an indicator of passing time and death since the turn of the 20th century. Theoretically, the snapshot was an inexplicable moment: impossible to recreate and a betrayal to the truth of the moment in its lack of breath, of movement. ‘Funeral (Projection)’ (2005-08) cleverly mocks photography’s mythological magnitude. The piece was realized at Albury’s grandmother’s funeral in 2004. The wide-angle, 35mm shot of a cleared out funeral hall situates the deceased, resting in her coffin, at the center of the image. A chandelier and several table lamps within the frame beam triumphantly, almost on the verge of bursting from augmented amplification at the time of death. A subterranean perspective bellies vulnerability. The photograph is presented as an installation: it occupies an entire wall as the hum of a projector contributes a drone to the collective viewing experience. The viewer slips into reverie amid the murmur of machinery and the weight of the relentless moment. Albury asserts this photograph as an uninterrupted, persistent memorial. It is an emotional scene identifiable to the subconscious of the viewer. Albury provides ‘Funeral (Memory)’ (2005-08) as a keepsake reflecting upon the installation. The highly pixelated Xerox copy of the projection challenges the subject’s timelessness in memory. The Xerox is a synopsis, degrading the poignant image into a muddled scene of black and white diamonds. Photography parallels memory in this case, reflecting the instability of emotional documentation and the nuances of time. Repetition, as was the case in learning cursive or multiplication tables, can solidify memory while numbing one to the particulars of the present. “

Vanessa Albury, 'Funeral (Memory),' 2005-08, Xerox copy

Vanessa Albury, 'Funeral (Memory),' 2005-08, Xerox copy

Vanessa Albury, 'Funeral (Projection),' 2005-2008, 35mm projection

Vanessa Albury, 'Funeral (Projection),' 2005-2008, 35mm projection



The Fence between Language and Meaning…is Neon?

After taking a month off from Whitehot I’m coming back with a review of Joseph Kosuth’s show at Sean Kelly Gallery that closed at the end of April. The show was deliciously cerebral. I found myself revisiting each of the three pieces several times, squandering between the seemingly meaningless strings of text. I almost fell into Kosuth’s literary trap and gave up, foraging through the intellectual allusions I couldn’t place. This is exactly his point, however. Words and even images assume a certain degree of responsibility to their message, but what if we could extract something entirely new yet significant and relatable in itself? So it goes, the ceaseless battle between word and meaning. Here’s a small excerpt from the review:

“Kosuth calls upon the words of Samuel Beckett in the exhibition’s title work, Texts (Waiting for –) for Nothing (2011). Kosuth identifies with Becket’s incessant, Kafkaesque search for meaning. Waiting for Godot and the lesser known Texts for Nothing meld in a continuous stream of white light along the upper echelon of an ebony room. Kosuth exposes the waiting game of Vladamir and Estragon in Godot and their inability to break from the suspense. Uniformity, specifically the grey skies and “dim omnipresent light” in the text, summons a fear of plateauing and its subsequent mediocrity. Kosuth battles this paranoia aesthetically by denying the ability to see all the words in the installation simultaneously. He enforces an interaction with the room rather than a stationary viewing experience. The obligatory stroll also surrenders the body to Kosuth’s singular search for meaning. The audience looks up as if in praise or veneration to ennui. The concentric saunter attaches the viewer to the space. Repetitive reads allow memory to inject meaning into the words and inform the work through individual experience.”

FULL REVIEW HERE.

Joseph Kosuth, 'Ulysses, 18 Titles and Hours', 1998. neon, transformers

Joseph Kosuth, 'Ulysses, 18 Titles and Hours', 1998. neon, transformers

Joseph Kosuth, ''Texts (Waiting for-) for Nothing', Samuel Beckett, in play,' 2011. neon, transformers

Joseph Kosuth, ''Texts (Waiting for-) for Nothing', Samuel Beckett, in play,' 2011. neon, transformers

Joseph Kosuth, 'Titled (Art as Idea as Idea)', 1968. 10 mounted photographs each: 48 x 48 inches (121.9 x 121.9 cm)

Joseph Kosuth, 'Titled (Art as Idea as Idea)', 1968. 10 mounted photographs each: 48 x 48 inches (121.9 x 121.9 cm)



Fortress of Solitude

After the madness of the Armory Week, I almost forgot my most recent Whitehot Magazine article is hot off the..interweb?

It took me a while to get this one together due to the unexpected challenge of looking into Hopper’s oeuvre. I was interested in his reflection of life at the point, media-wise, when newspapers were really flying off the stands and truly incorporating both illustration and photography. The intersection of documentation in his work has been a point of fascination for journalists I know, seeing as he managed to combine the taut emotions of the urban environment with its constantly accelerating pace. I have a newfound respect for his work. Here’s a small excerpt:

“New York’s economic growth and architectural exuberance in the 1920′s allowed for an expanded palate of extracurricular social opportunities. Hopper was unenthusiastic about the modular evolution of the Machine Age but acknowledged the flurry of activity. Untitled (Two Trawlers) (1923-24) depicts a pair of industrial fishing boats, slightly zoomed to fill the canvas. Hopper’s subject matter and his animated line hint at the sparks of industry and commerce. He implies movement, allowing the viewer to engage with the vessel’s construction and flow. The boats obstruct the landscape and emphasize Hopper’s distrust of industrial evolution. In conjunction with reflections upon industry, Hopper’s neutral investigation of architecture differs from his contemporaries, the Precisionists. The Precisionists embraced blossoming razor silhouettes through compositional order and  flattened color. Charles Demuth and Louis Lozowick suspend diagonals amid their cityscapes in praise of New York, the burgeoning land of lines. Pristine color and clean compositions reflect skyscraper grids, roads, subways, and progress. Despite his discontent with the tidal wave of modernity, Hopper’s observations distance the viewer from sprouting urban scenery. He pulls himself out of the blizzard, allowing an observation of the fervor. Anticipation of the future had chained the individual to capitalist gains, accelerating past the point of Hopper’s ideally tranquil livelihood. “

Check out the FULL ARTICLE.

Edward Hopper, 'New York Interior,' ca. 1921. Oil on canvas, Overall: 24 1/4 × 29 1/4in.

Edward Hopper, 'New York Interior,' ca. 1921. Oil on canvas, Overall: 24 1/4 × 29 1/4in.

Edward Hopper, 'The Barber Shop,' 1931, oil on canvas

Edward Hopper, 'The Barber Shop,' 1931, oil on canvas



Belated
December 29, 2010, 9:28 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

In the sprightly holiday season i nearly forgot to put up my most recent article on Whitehot about GutBox, a 9-person collective based in New York but scouting/accepting contributors from around the world. They had a brief 2-week show at YGALLERY in the beginning of December. I continue to be infatuated with their work, never ceasing to find new passages of interest or sheer energy in their collaborations.  Kudos, GutBox!!

 

GutBox, 'Red Window Hyacinth,' 2010, mixed media

GutBox, 'Red Window Hyacinth,' 2010, mixed media, 12" x 12"

GutBox, 'Scramble,' 2010, mixed media, 12" x 12"

GutBox, 'Scramble,' 2010, mixed media, 12" x 12"

GutBox, 'Holiday in a Japanese Prison,' 2010, mixed media, 12" x 12"

GutBox, 'Holiday in a Japanese Prison,' 2010, mixed media, 12" x 12"



Have newspapers become probiotic?
November 20, 2010, 2:41 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

I wrote up a review for Whitehot on the New Museum’s recent exhibition ‘The Last Newspaper.’ Its open through the end of the year, and I encourage those invest in  print as well as intrigued by the elasticity of the media to go check it out. I tried not to be too scathing, but it felt a little wrought with repetition to me. The news addresses the collective, which is what can be so simultaneously engrossing and nauseating about it. Check it out, judge for yourselves. Here’s my review!



Greenpoint Potentcy

My review is up on Whitehot of Peter Clough’s 1 3/4 of an Inch, a week-long show that took place in the middle of September. It was completely sprung in the former St. Cecilia’s Convent in almost complete darkness. Quite the experience, check out the wordsssss

Tyler Rico, 'Untitled,' 2010, illegally tinted Cadillac windshield

Tyler Rico, 'Untitled,' 2010, illegally tinted Cadillac windshield

Jeremy Olson, 'Anathema,' 2010, Acrylic, styrene, LEDs, paint, lens. Dimensions variable.

Jeremy Olson, 'Anathema,' 2010, Acrylic, styrene, LEDs, paint, lens. Dimensions variable.



What’s your spirit animal?

Spirituality is a tart meyer lemon, sweet and sour simultaneously. I’ve always had a fascination with how people manage to explain, verify, justify, and motivate themselves through promises of a higher being or even just a neutralizing, balancing light at the end of the tunnel. I was flabbergasted at the powerful work at Cinders Gallery when i was walking around my neighborhood in south williamsburg, and upon checking into the show the artists involved had such vibrantly unique outlooks. Also, i’ve never been able to turn away from a) intricate collage and b) deranged ink renderings of nature. Check out the full article here.

Jessie Rose Vala, Our nature part 2, graphite on paper, 12 x 11"

Jessie Rose Vala, Our nature part 2, graphite on paper, 12 x 11"

Hisham Bharoocha, 'The Elements', 8" x 11", collage on paper

Hisham Bharoocha, 'The Elements', 8" x 11", collage on paper




New Photography @ Winkleman

The summer has arrived, and with it the splendor of heat and the downfall of distractions. I’m trekking, working through a new interview series for BOMB Magazine’s Blog that should have its first installment of mine up by the end of this week. I’ve interviewed Aaron Wexler, a wonderful collage artist working with a variety of media, for my first post. Jenny Morgan and Rachel Beach (both artists represented by Like the Spice Gallery in Brooklyn) are the next two on the burner. It’s shaping up to be a hectic summer!!

My most recent review on Whitehot was just published earlier this week. Check it out!
((Feedback always welcome))




Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 46 other followers