Hello ... all 4 or 5 of you.
Now that I am back at school, I fear that it is time I snap myself out of my summer travel nostalgia (although this week's Mad Men certainly did not help) and focus my attention on all things academic (shyeah, right). However, when my fun-times & my study-times collide, it truly is a cause for celebration...or better, blogging.
Being a gallery guide at the Frye Art Museum has its perks. One being the opportunity to experience the radiance of Chief Curator Robin Held. Think, Grecian goddess meets Trinity of the Matrix...of foxes. Second, being able to see the exhibitions and hear from curators before you. It makes me feel busy and important even though I haven't actually given a tour and am scared shitless of interacting with mean gradeschool children.
Which brings us to le point: The Old, Weird America: Folk Themes in Contemporary Art.
The Stranger put it on their cover (Greta Pratt's
Nine Lincolns, Hodgenville, Kentucky), so, yeah, check it out.
The exhibition, which opened last Friday night, borrows its name and foundation from the music and cultural critic Greil Marcus' 1997 book of the same title which looks at the influence of folk music on Bob Dylan and The Band's album, The Basement Tapes. So it's got that going for it.
Not to mention just...rad shit, like this:
Good Luck Assholes: Thomas Jefferson's Vision of Death by Eric Beltz, 2007
Charlie White's
1957, 2006.
Cynthia Norton's
Dancing Squared, 2004.
Deborah Grant's
Where Good Darkies Go. This is one of my favorites. I like the confidence of silhouettes and the solidity of acrylic on the birch panels. It looks like a giant, snarky comic book.
Then there's another shadow-puppet video by Kara Walker entitled
8 Possible Beginnings or: The Creation of African-America, a Moving Picture (2005). If you'll harken back to her work in The Puppet Show, again, this isn't for the faint of heart. Which is nice:)
There is Jeremy Blake's digital video
Winchester (2002). An intriguing representation of America-specific madness. Which is interesting given the artist's recent suicide and the rumors surrounding it (Scientology, guys).
When we were walking through the exhibition, I kept thinking about two books, specifically, but also the graphic novel genre in general. The pieces in this show are studies of American myth and the hasty sewing-together of our history. They reflect on the superhero-statuses of presidents, pilgrims, and cowboys. In essence, comic books. David Rathman's 2001 ink drawings in one of the small, back rooms show this well. Again, he uses silhouettes and text to create very specific scenes. In traditional painting, I was always told that text is a no-no, but this is intriguing and
fun. Think, Art Spiegelman or Dan Clowes.
One of the books that came to mind initially was Michael Chabon's
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. I just finished reading this about two weeks ago. It's all about the origin and development of the superhero during a very iconic period in American history...WWII.
The other book was Neil Gaiman's
American Gods. I read this my freshman year and Lauren just finished it, so I recently started thinking about it again. In a nutshell (I guess), it asks questions about the displacement of old-world gods in new-world America. And just, general badassery.
See the show, read the books. You won't regret it.
Love, sem.
P.S. Can I just give a big thanks so everyone who helped out with Siena-funding. Very much appreciated.
She has entire strips about being poor and making toast.
And then others devoted to living happily ever after with her boobs.
They're both snarky and tender and well, that's exactly what I'm looking for.
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