Archives for 2009

From Tobi Tobias on her blog, Seeing Things, a lovely, link-free essay on why she loves living in New York. It has no images either. Just the ones she evokes, all over town.

I could try (and probably fail) to match her with an essay on Seattle, but I’ll stick to a question in response: Tobi: Does your bar write you letters?

From The Hideout to its customers:

There are just things that I forget about.
Maybe it’s the booze and the pills. I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing old. I was at the grocery store the other day and bumped into a friend that I’ve know for years. And I open my mouth to say hi and I say “hi….” Fucking blanked out.

My eyes got big and I just smiled that dumb, unbelievable smile, the “I can’t believe this shit” smile. And then I bobbed my head and followed it up with a solid “whatcha been up to”, actually being serious, hoping that it connects some dot, triggers something in my brain, gives me a hint.

It’s like driving on empty up a hill- come on, come on, come on- you start talking to your brain like a cheerleader- come on, come on- you can do it. And you know all about them- you know the car that they drive and the name of their girlfriend and the funny looking bookshelf in their living room. Give it to me! Give me the name! Paul- yes, Paul- of course. “Paul it is great to see you.” And then I race for the produce section, repeating his name over and over again, hoping that repetition works. That if I say it enough my applesauce brain will capture it like a bug in amber.

The Dusty 45’s are back tonight – First Thursday. It is free and easy. It’s not a sales pitch, just a reminder of a good thing. So you don’t wake up on Friday morning and go – now I remember! Instead of playing Dig Dug on my iPhone for three hours, I could have been at the Hideout and watched Billy Joe play trumpet and guitar and sing all at once (what the hell, how can anyone do that?) or Jerry pick a guitar like a blue crab scuttling down a beach.

And that girl in the corner who you know but forget her first name, or you think you know but if you are wrong you’ll look like a total ass- just forget about it and ask her to dance or throw a shot back with you. It’s a special night and I want to remind you about it.

The 5 Cent Discrete Theatre Grant, remember that one? Drink all night at the Hideout for one lousy nickel. It is a sweet deal. All you have to do is propose some understated, not so obvious performance in the bar, and if we like your idea, you drink all during your “performance” for a nickel.

In a crummy economy everyone is looking for deals. So I am gently reminding you, that if you are coming up a little short, don’t stay at home reading junk mail, pitch us an idea and apply for a 5 cent Discrete Theatre Grant. You could meet your long lost father, be on a blind date, dress as a giant catapillar and drink Absinthe in the corner. I just wanted to remind you.

Was it something I said?

In suggesting that Culture Grrl’s begging for money might not be the best way to attract support for an art blog, I tiptoed through the topic, so as not to cause personal offense. In truth, it drives me crazy. My masterpiece of understatement here.

CG (Lee Rosenbaum) replied with a picture of a hatchet, which is probably a play on my last name. Good one. I haven’t heard it since grade school.

I understand it’s tough to make a living writing about art, and that until lately I’ve done so from the privileged position of a union job.

So, what do I know about it? I know what Odgen Nash would say.

In Bankers Are Just Like Anybody Else, Except Richer, he offered advice that any freelance arts blogger would do well to heed. To wit:

Most bankers dwell in marble halls,

Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits

and discourage withdrawals,

And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe

betides the banker who fails to heed it,

Which is you must never lend any money to anybody
unless
they don’t need it.

Nash died in 1971. He was thinking of pre-Bush administration, tightly regulated banks. Throw the old rules out, what happens? The rules are old, but they apply to writing about art, running a gallery or even trying to get a date.

Desperate for a date? Your phone will not ring.

Titus Kaphar wants to do the autopsy.

He opens at the Seattle Art Museum on Friday in an exhibit titled, History in the Making. Preview lecture on YouTube.

are changed upon a blue guitar.

1. From Charles Mudede via Pixdaus. 2. From Helmut Smits via Fred Muram. (Click to enlarge.)

Anything to keep consciousness at bay…

Lest we should see where we are,

Lost in a haunted wood,
…
Children afraid of the night

Who have never been happy or good.

Auden, September 1, 1939, here.

Click to enlarge images. 1.Joe Biel 2.Dan Webb 3. Joseph Mills 4. Pat DeCaro

Caution advised for theater companies tempted to send an April Fool’s press release. If at all subtle, it could wind up in the press with your name on it.

No such caution is needed in Seattle, because there are no theater critics to receive it. Almost none. There’s the great Brendan Kiley at the Stranger, but press releases are beneath his dignity. And there’s workhorse Misha Berson of the Seattle Times, but she’s so committed to print and averse to online that April 1 will be over before she can respond, so she won’t.

That leaves, I suppose by default, an art critic. From Stephanie Coen of Intiman Theatre:

SEATTLE– On Wednesday, April 1, the Hammering Man, one of Seattle’s most beloved icons, shocked onlookers when he committed a double murder, with an axe. Inspector Porfiry of the St. Petersburg police, currently on a sight-seeing tour of Seattle, managed to take the attached photo moments after the event, which is being investigated as “a murder with a psychological explanation.”
The story behind the Hammering Man’s crime and punishment will be revealed at Intiman Theatre, where a 90-minute version of Dostoyevsky’s psycho-thriller — ironically titled Crime and Punishment — opens on Friday, April 3 and plays through May 3.
The Hammering Man — who is also known in certain circles as #3277164 — has never before exhibited any signs of violence, nor has he expressed the idea that he is an “extraordinary man” who has the right to kill.
Inspector Porfiry is consulting on the investigation, and will help the Seattle police determine whether the Hammering Man should be sent to Siberia.

To make sure I – the single, solitary member of the press who might think Hammering Man is involved in the production – understand it’s a joke, Coen went on:

In other news, Intiman is responding to the current economic crisis in innovative ways. Its 2006 Tony Award for Outstanding Regional Theatre is now for sale on eBay.

And:

Despite the economy, however, Intiman will not make across-the-board cuts: Joan Didion’s solo show The Year of Magical Thinking will be performed by both Penn and Teller.

Well done, Ms. Coen. Her email here. Intiman’s killer You Tube advance below:

Of course, Hammering Man might be involved. That’s the thing about jokes. Within one, a kidding-on-the-square sometimes lies coiled.

* Fine obit of Nicolas Hughes, son of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Path, who was a fisheries biologist who took his life in Alaska, here. I love one line from a friend of his, who said  he would often “seek out a larch tree in a forest of spruce.”

* Tyler Green’s two-part report on an interview with Robert Frank at the National Gallery of Art, here and here.

* Sharon Butler’s illuminating discussion on Two Coats of Paint of oil paint application, that “full strength oil colors with high absorption, especially lamp and ivory black, should never be overpainted with pigments of lower oil content.” Noted.

* Wooster Collective on the latest Dan Witz, here.

* D. K. Row on William Jamison’s beautiful men, here.

* Emily Pothast on Mandy Greer, here.

*  And Joey Veltkamp on high points of exhibits opening in Seattle on Thursday. Good list. Wish I’d written it.

While not an expert in seeking remuneration, I instinctively feel that begging is not the best strategy for arts writers.

Culture Grrl disagrees here, here, here and most recently here, the last having the distinction of being not only plaintive  (“Did no one miss me while I was gone?”) but threatening ( “See you tomorrow (maybe).”)

Culture Grrl (Lee Rosenbaum) is an industrious reporter, especially on museum administration news. But if she’s that intent on raising a bit of what Bernie Bertie Wooster calls the necessary, she should consult an expert.

Or hook up with Rob Brezsny. Their needs appear to be in sync.

(Click images to enlarge.)

The hill and dale of Thomas Hart Benton, detail from Susanna and the Elders, the de Young Museum in S.F. (Photo, C-Monster.)

Benton swings again: John Currin, The Gimp (Gagosian Gallery)