November 10, 2012


Frank's Team, 1978, Ink on paper, 13.375 x 18.5 inches
Dutch Fisherman with Wife, 1980, ink on paper, 12 x 18 inches

Chemist with Mad Hatter, 1982, Pencil, colored pencil, ink, and collage on paper, 10.625 x 8.25 inches

Bad Smells, 1983, ink on paper, 9.5 x 13.375 inches

more information about Lucebert HERE

October 6, 2012

July 26, 2012

Linoleum (1966) / Robert Rauschenberg

Throughout his career, and particularly during the 1960s, Robert Rauschenberg became involved in several collaborative ventures that moved him outside the confines of his studio. Rauschenberg's approach to art as an inclusive form engaging all the senses led naturally to his work in performance. Between 1954 and 1964, he designed sets, costumes, and lighting for both the Merce Cunningham Company and the Paul Taylor Company.

His early stage designs included free-standing Combines such as Minutiae (1954) and The Tower (1957), as well as what he called "live decor," in which human action became "scenery." In the early 1960s Rauschenberg worked closely with the Judson Dance Theater, a collective comprising such dancers and visual artists as Trisha Brown, Robert Morris, Steve Paxton, Yvonne Rainer, and Carolee Schneemann. Its primary objective was to liberate movement from all formal conventions. 

Between 1963 and 1967, Rauschenberg choreographed and performed in at least eleven documented performance pieces. Eliminating the customary division between performer and scenic element in these works, which ranged from Pelican (1963) to Urban Round (1967), he emphasized the interaction with specially designed costumes and stage props. In his ensemble pieces, such as Spring Training (1965), Map Room II (1965), and Linoleum (1966), disparate actions - some intentionally dancerly, others entirely pedestrian - were performed simultaneously. The pieces were often accompanied by audio collages made from electronically amplified noises, compilations of prerecorded music, and found sounds.

HERE to watch Linoleum (1966)
this post excerpted from


July 25, 2012

101 Spring Street, NYC

Donal Judd bought the entire 1870′s industrial building at 101 Spring Street NYC (above) for $70,000 in 1968 and moved in with his family.

a photographic "cross-section" of all five floors at 101 Spring Street

Judd’s concept of “permanent installation” centered on the belief that the placement of a work of art was as critical to its understanding as the work itself. Judd’s first applications of this idea were realized in his installation of works throughout 101 Spring Street. His installations of artworks, furniture, and museum-quality decorative objects in this historic building strike an admirable balance between respect for the historic nature of this cast-iron landmark and Judd’s innovative approaches to interior design.

All works on view at 101 Spring Street remain as they were installed by Judd prior to his death. Throughout his writings, Judd identifies the installation of 101 Spring Street as the true source of permanent installation as a practice. In his essay “101 Spring Street,” he wrote, “I spent a great deal of time placing the art and a great deal designing the renovation in accordance. Everything from the first was intended to be thoroughly considered and to be permanent."

excerpted from the Judd here

July 11, 2012

ROBERT SMITHSON Incidents of Mirror-Travel in the Yucatan (1969)

"I'm using a mirror because the mirror in a sense is both the physical mirror and the reflection: the mirror as a concept and abstraction; then the mirror as a fact within the mirror of the concept. So that's a departure from the other kind of contained, scattering idea. But still the bi-polar unity between the two places is kept. Here the site/non-site becomes encompassed by mirror as a concept- mirroring, the mirror being a dialectic. 

The mirror is a displacement, as an abstraction absorbing, reflecting the site in a very physical way. It's an addition to the site. But I don't leave the mirrors there. I pick them up. It's slightly different from the site/non-site thing. Still in my mind it hasn't completely disclosed itself. There's still an implicit aspect to it. It's another level of process that I'm exploring. A different method of containment.

From Selected Interviews with Robert Smithson: 'Fragments of a Conversation,' edited by William C. Lipke.

The following is excerpted from Robert Smithson's Incident's of Mirror-Travel in the Yucatan (1969)

"...Looking down on the map (it was all there), a tangled network of horizon lines on paper called 'roads,' some red, some black.  Yucatan, Quintana Roo, Campeche, Tabasco, Chiapas and Guatemala congealed into a mass of gaps, in a neat row: archeological monuments (black), colonial monuments (black), historical site (black), bathing resort (blue), spa (red), hunting (green), fishing (blue), arts and crafts (green), aquatic sports (blue), national park (green), service station (yellow).  On the map of Mexico they were scattered like the droppings of some small animal.

The Tourist Guide and Directory of Yucatan-Campeche rested on the car seat.  On its cover was a crude drawing depicting the Spaniards meeting the Mayans, in the background was the temple of Chichen Itza.  On the top left-hand corner was printed 'UY U TAN A KIN PECH' (listen how they talk) - EXCLAIMED THE MAYANS ON HEARING THE SPANISH LANGUAGE,' and in the bottom left-hand corner 'YUCATAN CAMPECHE' - REPEATED THE SPANIARDS WHEN THEY HEARD THESE WORDS.  A caption under all this said 'Mayan and Spanish First Meeting 1517.'  In the 'Official Guide' to Uxmal, Fig. 28 shows 27 little drawings of 'Pottery Found at Uxmal.'  The shading on each pot consists of countless dots.  Interest in such pots began to wane.

The steady hiss of the air-conditioner in the rented Dodge Dart might have been the voice of Eecath - the god of thought and wind.  Wayward thoughts blew around the car, wind blew over the scrub bushes outside.  On the cover of Victor W.Von Hagan's paperback World of the Maya it said, 'A history of the Mayas and their resplendent civilization that grew out of the jungles and wastelands of Central America.

'In the rear-view mirror appeared Tezcatipoca - demiurge of the 'smoking-mirror.'  'All those guide books are of no use,' said Tezcatipoca.  'You must travel at random, like the first Mayans; you risk getting lost in the thickets, but that is the only way to make art.'"

"...While in Mexico, Robert Smithson created the Yucatan Mirror Displacements (1–9) by installing 12-inch-square mirrors on dispersed sites. The resulting series of nine color photographs was published in Artforum to accompany Smithson’s essay “Incidents of Mirror-Travel in the Yucatan” (1969). The mirrors reflected and refracted the surrounding environs, displacing the solidity of the landscape and shattering its forms. Part Earthwork and part image, the displacements contemplate temporality; while the mirror records the passage of time, its photograph suspends time."     
Nancy Spector

May 22, 2012

Rachel Harrison, The Help

Greene Naftali, NYC
May 3 - June 16, 2012

"The exhibition shares its title with Harrison's photograph of the back door maintenance entrance to Duchamp's Etant donnes, which is visible in the exhibition galleries of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, and alludes to the entangled roles of the Artist, the Muse, and the Help."

Rachel Harrison, The Help, 2012, Archival Pigment Print

"The twelve sculptures on view in the exhibition combine formalist inspiration and tragicomic epiphany and are imbued with Harrison's signature sense of slapstick timing."

from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
"The Help also introduces a group of drawings in which Harrison explores the passion and pathology of the tortured artist, a figure suspended between the pressures of ambitious creative vision and the public hunger for performance." from the Greene Naftali press release.

from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.
from The Help by Rachel Harrison at Greene Naftali, 2012.

April 21, 2012

anemic cinema (1926)

Anemic Cinema or Anémic Cinéma (1926) is a Dadaist, surrealist, or experimental film make by Marcel Duchamp. The film depicts whirling animated drawing -- which Duchamp called Rotoreliefs -- alternated with puns in French. 

Duchamp signed the film with his alter egp name of Rrose Selavy.

Rotoreliefs were a phase of Duchamp's spinning works. To make the optical "play toys" he painted designs on flat cardboard circles and spun them on a phonograph turntable that when spinning the flat disks appeared 3-dimensional. He had a printer run off 500 sets of six of the designs and set up a booth at a 1935 Paris inventors' show to sell them. The venture was a financial disaster, but some optical scientists thought they might be of use in restoring 3-dimensional sight to people with one eye.

In collaboration with Man Ray and Marc Allegret, Duchamp filmed early versions of the Rotoreliefs and they named the first film version Anémic Cinéma.

The Rotoreliefs are alternated with revolving disks with spinning phrases of French puns. 
In order they are:

"Bains de gros thé pour grains de beauté sans trop de bengué." ("Baths in course tea for beauty marks without too much Ben-Gay.")

"L'enfant qui tète est un souffleur de chair chaude et n'aime pas le chou-fleur de serre-chaude." ("The child who suckles is a hot-flesh blower and doesn't like hot-house cauliflower.")

"Si je te donne un sou, me donneras-tu une paire de ciseaux?" ("If I give you a penny will you give me a pair of scissors?")

"On demande des moustiques domestiques (demi-stock) pour la cure d'azote sur la côte d'azur." ("One demands domestic mosquitos (half-stock) for the nitrogen cure on the Azur.")
"Inceste ou passion de famille, à coups trop tirés." ("Incest or family passion, with too many drawn blows.")

"Esquivons les ecchymoses des Esquimaux aux mots exquis." ("Let us dodge the bruises of Eskimos in exquisite words.")

"Avez-vous déjà mis la moëlle de l'épée dans le poêle de l'aimée?" ("Have you already put the marrow of the sword in the stove of the beloved?")

The video edits out the sequence with the line: "Parmi nos articles de quincaillerie par essence, nous recommandons le robinet qui s'arrête de couler quand on ne l'écoute pas." ("Among our articles of lazy hardware, we recommend the faucet which stops dripping when no one is listening to it.")

"L'aspirant habite Javel et moi j'avais l'habite en spirale." ("The aspirant lives in Javel and me I lived in a spiral-shaped abode.")

    March 18, 2012

    Tamara Gonzales @ Norte Maar (+ BONUS TRACKS).

    Tamara Gonzales: Untitled.
    On view at Jason Andrews' beautiful; Norte Maar, located in Bushwick, Brooklyn.
    March 10 - April 29, 2012

    “totter,” 2011, spray paint on canvas, 62 x 50 inches.
    "totter" installed at Norte Maar - wall painting by Tamara Gonzales.

    Tamara Gonzales was born in Madera, CA and has been living and working in Brooklyn since 1994. Her new paintings spring to the optical extreme through her unique process of spray painting through found lace tablecloths, doilies, and curtains. Vibrant and witty, layered and textured, the artist combines large gesture with tight pattern to create compositions that at once mimic the grand heroic gestures of the postwar painters, while capturing all-over free spirit found in the graffiti that appears daily on the streets near her Bushwick studio. Inspirations are drawn from eclectic sources: Baroque churches, pagan rituals of the Day of the Dead, rose windows, textiles from an open market in India. Her work is not without subtlety, as there are moments where the artist stops time, opens the frame, expands space and makes room for a meditative practice.  (excerpted from the Norte Maar press release)

    Untitled, 2011, spray paint on canvas, 48 x 36 inches

    “inked seraph,” 2011, spray paint on canvas, 36 x 30 inches

    “my window last nite,” 2011, spray paint on canvas, 36 x 30 inches

    “drifting at sea,” 2011, spray paint on canvas, 62 x 50 inches

    from Tamara Gonzales' studio this afternoon....mixing up the old and the new....and Bear.

    studio table 
    I want this one.

    mixing it up....old and new.

    March 14, 2012

    Benjamin Butler - SOME TREES

    Some Trees by Benjamin Butler
    On view at Klaus von Nichtssagend Gallery  from March 8 - April 22, 2012.
    Photos from the opening below...

    Benjamin Butler, Untitled Forest, 2012, 14 x 11 inches, oil on canvas

    Benjamin Butler, Untitled Forest, 2012, 14 x 11 inches, oil on canvas

    The title of the show is borrowed from the John Ashbery poem, 'Some Trees', and points to Butler's specific meditation on painting. For most of the past decade, 'trees' and 'forests', have served for Butler as a pictorial stand-in and a point of departure for making abstract paintings. In these recent works, Butler is seen approaching his paintings more directly as objects, considering not only the front surface of the canvas, but the sides as well. By doing so, Butler delineates the area between painting as a window and as a plane, while his image treads between a signified 'tree' and a series of shapes, colors, and lines. With the intention of extending the visual boundaries of his motif, Butler incorporates the languages of modernism, minimalism, and post-pop representation, while keeping an eye towards the modesty of folk art and the ubiquity of popular culture. The varied results hint at a connection to the trees of Ashbery’s poem; “That their merely being there / Means something.”

    Benjamin Butler, Untitled Forest, 2012, 14 x 11 inches, oil on canvas

    Benjamin Butler, Untitled Forest, 2012, 14 x 11 inches, oil on canvas
    Benjamin Butler, Grey Tree, 2012, 11 x 14 inches, oil on canvas

    Benjamin Butler, Grey Tree, 2012, 11 x 14 inches, oil on canvas

    Autumn Forest (Sixty-Three Trees), 2012, 60 x 96 inches, oil on canvas

    Benjamin Butler, Yellow Tree, 2011-2012, 30 x 24 inches, oil on canvas
    more on Benjamin Butler HERE

    March 6, 2012

    Memory of Fragrance / Marsden Hartley

    Marsden Hartley, Cleophas, Master of the Gilda Gray, 1938-39, oil on board, 28 x 22 inches

    Memory of Fragrance

    Cleophas is the fisherman's name; he is seventy and like a great actor who has set aside his roles.  His diction is flawless and might have set a Booth to praising.  We were speaking of hummingbirds, and of their amazing flight to Mexico each season's end, from no matter what north -- I remaking of the recent skillful photography of the hummingbird's wing movement -- sixty beats to the second.

    We talked of honey, the pronunciation of the word lichen as he noticed I had used the lich form instead of the other or 'liken' use -- all this because I had been describing the incredible workmanship in the nest of the hummingbird, and then we turned to the pot of honey on the table and it came to me then to tell him of all the kinds of honey in the Alpine country each with its own Alpine flavor.  You may find these in the [freight?] shops just as you find so many cheeses in some.

    "What does it smell like" said Cleophas pointing to the honey-pot in front of us.

    "O Cleophas," I said, "it smells like all the flowers rolled into one," and the conversation placed itself on other things.

    With a kind of sharp poignancy which is the essence of some degrees of memory, my mind dwelt upon the word fragrance, and as I was lying in bed, from the union of the words fragrance & memory I was suddenly perched up on a high cliff on the valley of the Car in the medieval town of Gattieres -- this in the Alpes Maritimes of course.

    It was harvest time & the harvest was the most precious I have ever encountered for the harvest was of orange flowers.

    On every slope in these regions you see tailor-made orchards, terraces really of button like orange tress, set in rows as on a faded military uniform of past wars, and the fruit is not of the edible sort -- it is converted if allowed to develop, for use in the making of liqueurs, but the real harvest is of the flowers.

    It is evening there in the harvest time of the orange flowers, and as you walk along the high road above the river bed of the Var quite dry but for a trickle at the side, and in the distance the snowcapped peaks of the mountains of Italy.

    You have had your supper and you must have a walk before night comes down.

    In harvest time a heavy fragrance overtakes you and gives you the imagined sense that it doesn't matter where you are, and you may call it if you like the Vale of Cashmere or the groves behind the Taj Mahal.

    Wagons come into view at the turn of the road and they are piled high with sacks and the peasants are piled upon them.

    The sun is down, the snow peaks have gone into an ultra violet condition, the river bed is in the blues of shadow -- the little ancient hill towns perched on rocks seem to melt back into their original rock state -- all the world is enveloped in fragrance and the end of the evening.

    You follow the wagons of course into the central plaza of the town where the cooperative takes charge -- bags weighed in, credit slips given & the the ghostly streams of fragrant white from out of the bags upon the plaza floor.

    The moon is up over the hills now and it begins to make traceries everywhere.  The balconies above the plaza begin to be peopled with dark figures, and the staircases that lead down to it are studded with hypnotized figures.

    No one says anything above a whisper, everyone is looking down without a word at the singular white carpet below, a foot thick surely of orange flowers & from them an almost stifling fragrance arises.  You think of nothing that does not partake of dream - nature -- worlds forgot & the ways of men.

    The moon is high and the blanket of flowers consequently whiter and still more ghost - like in its appearance; no one seems to want to do anything -- the leaners out of windows and the standers on the staircase -- lean over the respective balustrades in a state of hypnosis.  The now peaks have gone to bed for the night, a cloud clings here & there as if to have its sleep as well.  The night grows older -- older people meander to their beds and new young lovers cling to each other as if the scene were the unimagined epitome of the plain emotions...

    It was Cleophus of the north that set me on the trail of this memory of fragrance, asking as he did what the pot of northern honey smelled like.  "Like all the flowers of the world" could be the only answer.

    excerpted from Marsden Hartley's Journal Entries, Nova Scotia, 1936.