Category: Art

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Leglifters, Organic Peaches, Skits, Tony’s

So BC’s nieces are here, and we’ve been channeling the teen beat all weekend. Friday we went to see the Giants actually win a game, after a brief stop to see Connie’s stellar show at LIMN. We sat way out in left field–where else?–and listened to the two chicks and one guy behind us get progressively louder, more intoxicated, and quite friendlier with each other. The left field seats are situated where social interaction and eavesdropping easily command more attention than what’s happening in the diamond. But still, I tend to obsessively watch for “leglifters,” the guys who lift their legs when batting. I haven’t formulated an hypothesis yet on the difference between the leglifters, the legtwisters, or the kneeknockers, but I know there’s some relation to something significant beyond batting average.

On Saturday morning, Big Chrissy wasn’t content with just us taking the nieces to the farmer’s market, he decided to make it extra special for them by enlisting the aid of the Mayor of the Farmer’s Market, Philip, to lead the tour and provide the appropriate level of pomp to the stroll through Vegetalia. Afterwards, I whispered to the girls, “Now, did Chris tell you who Philip is…?” Thank you Philip for making their day.

The next evening, after a Thai excursion to Osha on Valencia, we moseyed on over to Mission to take in the latest skits from Uphill Both Ways, led by our very own Dave. The trio performed various new comedy skits that had us giggling quite profusely, but the cellphone piece, in particular, had us hyperventilating. Dave has this amazing big outdoor voice that seems totally ready for prime time, or Broadway, and that completely fills the Dark Room Theater with booming hysterics. I’d love to ride a roller coaster with him.

This morning we drove up the coast to Marshall for oysters at Tony’s. I don’t know why I told you all that we were going to Scott’s, or why you all nodded your heads like, “Oh, Scott’s, great.” It’s Tony’s.

I’m pretty bushed from Nate’s funeral tonight on HBO. The show continually astounds me, the only show with dialogue taken from real life, my life, and real therapy sessions, my therapy sessions, and not abstracted theatrical representation of them. I’m hoping that something equally dramatic and accurate will takes its place so that I don’t have to create my own mini-series. I’m into watching these days.

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Whew

Well, I just spent the entire week updating my website–getting rid of popups, increasing brightness for the Windows gamma, making it hopefully easier to navigate, and adding a new installation. It was kind of thrilling to re-visit my little creations, and to see how dang productive I was from 1999-2002. My experimentation with film was helpful, and fun, but I feel ready to get back to being a photographer. An exciting development is that there are a few archival ink-jet printers on the market that have pretty impressive picture quality (2800 x 1440 dpi), print 17″ wide (the component images of my grids are 15″ square), and rival C-prints in longevity. And get this, I’d cover my costs within two grids in the money I’d save in lab printing costs. This sounds almost too good to be true, and I haven’t done my research yet, but if it is possible for me to print at home, and get the quality and control that has eluded me at even the finest lab, I can not imagine how productive and happy I’d be. Plus I could ditch gelatin silver for a while for color and wouldn’t have to stand for 8 hours at a time breathing noxious fumes! Does anyone have any experience with these kinds of printers or inks?

Happy weekend…

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From the Editing Room

So I’ve tentatively titled my video Nude: D Ascending My Staircase, and added a prelude and an air by Purcell. Yesterday’s editing resulted in a bizarre baroque-noir-sci-fi mini epic. Nothing earth-shattering, but a really good exercise for me in playing with a new medium. Who knows where it will go today. If interested in viewing and giving me some feedback during its creation, I’d be happy to arrange a director’s cut screening for you at Coco’s Monoplex.

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Ascension and Contempt

Tonight I watched Godard’s Contempt with Davide. It’s the kind of film that benefits from repeat viewings, there are so many ideas and references. Davide seemed a bit overwhelmed by them all, sensitive fellow that he is. Earlier today I worked on editing my video, and after seeing that extraordinary first nude scene with Brigitte Bardot and Michel Piccoli, am eager to get back into the editing room. The project I’ve been working on is not yet titled, but it’s of D walking up my stairs. Not just abstract D, but big hairy identifiably human D. Part of my challenge is balancing his prominent bulkiness with the lovely abstract shots of his hairy expansiveness heaving gently as he breathes. I filmed him walking towards the camera, a step at a time, as we both moved up the stairs, and am cross-fading these shots into each other. A second group of images is of the previously mentioned closeups of his moving hair, and a third from the camera panning across and around his body, also very abstract. There’s a fourth group of the stairs and front door, but I’ll use them only if I veer towards narrative. The abstractions are just lovely–seductive and other-worldly landscapes, but the figurative imagery, in contrast, is almost frightening in its legibility. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m going to keep the recognizable footage, as I’m concerned that the piece may become too much about the tension between how this body is perceived and how I want it to be experienced, rather than just about how I want it to be perceived.

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Kids News and Sunday Brunch Chez Coco

So Reese attended a summer theater camp over the past few weeks, culminating in a performance Friday afternoon of various improv pieces, a few musical numbers, and “Kids’ News.” For Kids’ News, the kids wrote and delivered various snippets of news pertinent and appealing to the average 12 year old. The show began with Reese singing the theme song, which he, of course, wrote and composed. The little dude belted out his little ditty like it was a Broadway show tune, as if the news should always be preceded by a histrionic Sam Harris/Star Search jingle. For his bit of news, Reese played Karl Lagerfeld, announcing that Victoria (“call me Vicky”)’s Secret was out: bras lined with gummy bears. Reese clings gleefully and stubbornly to his pre-pubescence, but the developing Liza Minelli can not be suppressed.

This morning BC, Philip, Dean & Doug, and the charming new(to me)comer Davey stopped by for brunch in the garden. Happily, the heat of yesterday gave way to typical cooling San Francisco summer breezes, the fog caressing the slopes of Twin Peaks but never wandering over our part of the sky. Philip brought over some scones–ginger and almond–designed as vehicles for my 2005 Proprietor’s Reserve Italian Prune Plum Jam, but totally upstaging it with their light and buttery deliciousness. If only Philip belonged to me and not the rest of Culinaria… Anyway, I made a virtually fat-free fritatta to balance Philip’s butter-rich baked goods, and served some salad, bacon, and watermelon to round out our taste bud stimulation. I think I forgot the umami bud, but came close by oversalting the fritatta. I had such a swell time, and really enjoyed meeting our new friend.

The videotaping this week has gone really well. My project is veering into completely different terrain, different from what I had planned and expected, but I’m going with the flow, and feeling excited following the currents. I hope to wrap up shooting this week and get to editing next week, but who knows which way I’ll drift this week, so don’t count on seeing or hearing anything concrete just yet.

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Fireworks

Alex and I went to see the Giants play and barely beat Atlanta last night. With Barry out for the season, their winning record has been slim, so it was nice to feel the elation in the crowd when they won. Every time someone hit a ball, the crowd would go wild, startling the seagulls and sending them up into the air in a sparkling flutter of white. There were fireworks after the game, shot into the low-hanging fog. They played Journey’s song about the lights going down in the city, and turned off the main spotlights just at that crucial point in the song before it gets all pumped up, and then the fireworks began. The fog would suddenly turn bright red and a few glittering streams would escape from the fog and into view below. We sat way up high, behind home plate in the nose-bleed section, to be closer to the fireworks. It was so cool. Seeing glittery colorful explosions in the sky is always breathtaking. I’m the one who goes “Ooooh,” and “Ahhhhh,” and “Ohhhhhh.”

Tomorrow I continue shooting my new piece… stay tuned for more details.

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Tuttle, Emily and Amanda

Did anyone else see the Richard Tuttle show at SFMoMA? I’m sure it’ll be over before you know it and we can all get on with ourselves as if it never happened. If anyone was moved by it, please engage me in some dialogue. I am open to being enlightened. On second thought, there were plenty of artists who pushed boundaries–Giotto, Masaccio, Duchamp, etc…—whose works continue to appeal beyond their context. But Tuttle’s work, which I’ve only experienced in little pieces here and there and have liked at times for its relation to its time, here in its entirety, left me numb, feeling like there’s nothing beyond its relation to its time, nothing intrinsically appealing aesthetically or conceptually. The guy’s a little clever, but really… I don’t think I’ve ever been to a museum show before and felt so, just, bereft. If I can convince myself that it’s really about that, I’ll be okay.

But you don’t have to leave town, my friends, not even your comfy chairs, to be aesthetically and conceptually challenged tonight. If you really want to see some exciting new work, just click this way people, to the extraordinary collaboration between observatrix Emily Wilson and fabulist Amanda Davidson, now on view through eternity, at the Marjorie Wood Gallery: Chlorine.

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Rut-less

Well, that was quick. I appear, momentarily, to have stumbled into a project that I’m quite excited about. Shooting is scheduled for Monday. I’m reluctant to describe it yet, as this period is supposed to be characterized by playful exploration. More as, if, or when it develops…

Sigh of relief, sound of creative juices flowing.

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Ruth at Meridian

Friday night I went to an opening at Meridian. Ruth Eckland is showing there, a new video work. The sumptuous single-channel piece consists of layered images of stars reflected on water, people in VR headsets who resemble 18th century divers, video static, and faces, projected onto scrims that are placed at different distances from the projector–a kind-of cubist video space. Showing in a room down the hall is David Avery. His tiny etchings of imagery from the Brothers Grimm are framed and hung on burgundy-colored walls, creating the feel of an old museum. The pairing of Ruth and David’s work is just dynamite. His ideas are so contained by the frame, and require such intimate contact, while Ruth’s work bursts out of the frame and surrounds the viewer. Aside from the physical dynamism, the content of the two bodies of work feed the readings of each other, as well, with their different takes on past and present, science fiction and spirituality. I had a great talk with Anne, the director, and was very excited by her energy and intelligence. Check out the show, now at Meridian…

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Little Bits of This and That

Remember my movie? I was supposed to start shooting this month. I really need to stop making these big announcements about what I’m going to do, and tell you instead about what I actually did. Well anyway, I’ve put off making my movie because of this New York show, so never mind about my being a filmmaker for now.

Boring but exciting photo news: Hasselblad has finally embraced digital technology, merging with Imacon, one of the main producers of digital backs for medium-format cameras. They’re producing new cameras with digital integration, and digital backs for older cameras. Now we don’t have to ditch our old equipment. The cost seems to be coming down, too, from $20,000 last year to $9,800 for a 16-megapixel digital back. Being able to work directly with digital imagery will take out an expensive and quality-reducing step currently necessary to make prints from my chromes. The cost still remains the only barrier between me and digital freedom, but I’m hanging in there, remembering the $150 price tag on my dad’s 1972 8-inch calculator.

Dean and Doug came over for dinner last night. Linguine with clams, a salad of arugula and orange, and chocolate cake for dessert. They didn’t seem to get my Limoncello. No one likes it, except me, The Cough Syrup for Boozers and Losers. But I know it’s good! What’s wrong with everybody? We talked more about politics than usual and then I had a weird dream about D, falling out of the window and bouncing down Collingwood Street. I’m sure it has to do with my fears of his leaving the nest, even though he seems to be getting along so well these days, being much more sociable and engaging. So back to Dean, he and Doug invited me and BC to their place in the country this weekend, so never mind about them, more about them later…

Here’s the groovy mid-century Light-o-Lier lamp that I just got for my hallway! Vintage lighting is my new blankie.