Gallery Stroll

I've been seeing a lot of art over the past few weeks. Look forward to some more regular postings about some of the shows I'm popping into these days.

The first was artist Helle Mardhal's first New York solo exhibition at one of my favorite galleries, La Viola Bank Gallery in Chinatown. The work is consuming, dark, and somewhat cute and humorous, something that one could argue is expected from a scandanavian artist. (Those swedes, fins, and danes are all so conflicted and adorable.) The event was hosted by my three favorite promoters in the city, the six six six girls. They have a fun DIY blog full of fashion and excitement here.



The Girls



The Artist




Next stop a week or so later was the open studios at The School of Visual Arts. I was going to see my friend Jessica's performance art piece. She's a downtown photographer who featured me in a series of polaroids she did for a portrait series. You can see the picture of me @ her site, Transgressica



Now I can't say that I fully understand or appreciate performance art most of the time. This performance featured a cellist who was playing beautifully with his back turned to the audience and performers. A blindfolded attractive tattooed fellow stood blindfolded while he masturbated in front of an audience full of people. Jessica took polaroids of him, sometimes from a distance, sometimes from very close up. Voyeuristic, but intriguing. I don't mind performance art when it features an attractive tattooed fellow.




Next stop was the Met. I've been itching to see the Francis Bacon retrospective since it opened last Friday, but wandered around the glorious museum for three hours before I went inside. And as someone remotely connected to the I hadn't yet explored the New American Wing, or really gotten to appreciate the Greek and Roman galleries. I've steadily been drawing and illustrating more men, learning the appreciation for the male body that I've had for the female one my entire life--so I was particularly intrigued by the marble busts and figures of men. The male body has its own softness and curvature that I'm starting to feel secure enough to explore in my own work.

Portraiture is always exciting. Marble busts had to be accurate in a way that an oil painting can avoid, so it can sometimes be very haunting to see some of these faces, looking at you over the span of hundreds of years.

The Francis Bacon exhibition was exhausting and beautiful. His distorted portraits of himself, his lovers, and his anguish were very eye opening and dark. I needed an ice cream after leaving, and had to think of My Little Ponies before I went to bed, for fear of bloody fanged baboons coming after me in the night. I managed to snap a few pictures before I was stopped by the guard.."No pictures of the Bacon!"


Marie Antoinette's Pillow!


This statue always freaks me out. I know they're supposed to be sleeping. But they totally look dead. Dead babies!


Work the hair.


Face face give me face


I need a me some Heracles!


Why the long face?


bacon is beautiful.