After the Flood

I received a copy of this gorgeous, 10 pound Steidl (of course) produced book this week. Containing more than 500 pictures taken by Robert Polidori between September 2005 and April 2006 in the aftermath of Katrina, the book is a haunting record of the lives washed away in New Orleans. Does total destruction become art? Eerie and powerful. Some sample images below.

Book/Shelf

Can't wait to check out this exhibit at MoMA. For the book nerd in all of us. Now through July 7th.

Featuring works that transform books through a variety of mediums, Book/Shelf stresses an expanded notion of the illustrated book. The exhibition begins with a documentation of Marcel Duchamp's Unhappy Readymade (1919)—a work created when the artist, while traveling, asked his sister back home to hang a geometry book on his balcony in order to let the wind flip and tear the pages. It continues with works in which artists appropriate books by others, such as a sculpture by Martin Kippenberger made partly of books, and a copy of Duchamp's catalogue raisonné rebound by David Hammons under the title Holy Bible. Artists who tackle the idea of books in film (William Wegman), sound works (On Kawara), prints (Edward Ruscha), and drawings (Steve Wolfe) are represented as well. Finally, the exhibition surveys a number of artists who have created installations that display books in public contexts, including Brian Belott, Allen Ruppersberg, Josh Smith, and Lawrence Weiner.

It's a Mad World

Meant to post this link last week - a wonderful article from the Sunday Times about Al Jaffee, the 87-year-old artist who has been drawing the Mad magazine back cover fold-in by hand since 1964.

Some of his more recent covers can be found here, and the Times has a great interactive folding cover feature here.

Flickr

Check out my Flickr page via the link at right for Hong Kong photos, and others.

The Pop-Up Guy

Here's a link to an article in the Cincinnati Enquirer (oddly enough) about my friend Bruce in Houston. He's the paper engineer we are working with in creating Vis 54, a collection of pop-up spreads by 12 different artists.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

•I realized that Madrid has changed in the past nine years from a cosmopolitan-yet-still-very Spanish city into more of a generic, European Union one. Globalization strikes again. Walking and eating in Madrid continues to be great fun, especially on the narrow streets of the Malasena district, and doing a tapas bar crawl to start your evenings before dinner is always good. I was able to see some of my favorite art again at the Prado via Francisco Goya's series of 14 creepy images called "The Black Paintings." Another highlight was spending a morning working (discussing Jason's unfortunate departure via phone with my bosses, damn) at Chocolateria San Gines while having churros con chocolate.

•I went to a bullfight at Las Ventas in Madrid that Helen, Julia and I all found disturbing. First of all, there's no "fight." The bull is going to die, and he's definitely going to lose. Six bulls are on the card each night, but we could only stomach two. The first one was pretty horrible, as the bull was not given a quick, clean death. He simply wouldn't go down and bled and bled and bled. The second one made a little more sense, as we watched the intricate interplay between bull, three matadors, the cape and the crowd. While I'll go to any type of spectacle or sporting event in an effort to understand a culture better, this event is a little tough to handle. BUT: Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon is in hand because the whole thing is definitely intriguing. (But I hate Hemingway.)

•I ate horse meat (the dreaded cavallo) not once but TWICE, including cavallo carpaccio with greens. It really IS on about half the menus in Verona. Julia and I only made it part way through that plate, for the more we talked about it, the closer we both got to needing to go outside to vomit. My take: leaner, saltier, with not as much flavor as beef. And I probably don't need to go there again.

•I had a few-day affair with a very funny, blue eyed trombone-playing Italian named Diego from the Verona Opera orchestra...because ten days in Verona means you have enough time to have dates, and enough time to see two operas in the 2,000-year-old Roman Arena. (Plus, go "backstage" to visit. Too funny. And familiar.) Seeing these operas in the arena on a clear warm Italian night is something I am not going to forget for a long time (even with all the mean Germans around us who refused to smile). Magical, and although I have no appreciation or clue about opera, I caught myself tearing up a little bit in one part. Who knew?

•I spent five days in Production Geek Summer Camp at the always charming Hotel Elefante in Verona (home of 20 pet peacocks wandering about!) About 8 other people from various publishers were there doing press OKs at the same time I was, along with my friend/sales rep and her family, so there were loads of people to talk shop with while drinking wine at random hours in the garden. While these work trips usually stress me out at some point when things go horribly south, this one was the best one yet, and the next issue of Vis (called Private with a Louis Vuitton case) will be out in October. I realized I am very fond of Verona, and will miss it until I go back again (maybe next spring?), but having visiting cohorts in Julia and Jason certainly made it all the better.

•My Spanish and Italian improves the more I ghetto-talk my way through things. And I learned some seriously dirty words in Italian.

Revenge is Immature

Draining, and yet often strangely satisfying. Just ask a cunty ex-friend of mine who, four years later, still carries her anger around and irrelevantly writes in her sex advice column about the end of our friendship (three days before my dad died, nice.) The ax-grinding is due to the fact that a crush of hers dared to decide he dug me, instead of her victimized ass. We had seriously bad chemistry as friends, but on the off-chance I read her column (she is smart and I did miss her voice), finding a mention for the umpteenth time only reinforces a "good riddance" to the best thing to ever leave my life. I am fortunate I escaped only a couple years in.

Anyhoo, I digress. Summary of the link: When a boyfriend dumped her by email, French artist Sophie Calle asked 100 women to read it - and became the star of the Venice Biennale.

Here's an much-discussed post in a similar vein. After reading about Calle's project, I think I let him off easy, and shoulda made a billboard calling it art. Against my instincts, I took crazy's name off that original post, after he repeatedly Googled himself, found his emails online in all their glory, REALLY flipped out, and wrote me threatening emails. He continued to Google himself every day thereafter for, oh, about 3 months, promising to sue me for libel. Again, I only breathe a sigh of relief that I didn't get in any deeper.

What I Do for Work

I know people think I spend ALL DAY on line at work, which is partially true, but I also get to produce cool projects like this one. Visionaire 47: Taste was released last week with much acclaim and TONS of sales at Art Basel in Miami. John, my co-worker, is mortified that the AP picked up his Willy Wonka quote, and reprinted it in many locations, including Al-Jazeera. Not exactly what the Visionaire art asthetic demands...He is officially banned from talking to all reporters from here on out.

Close to Home:An American Album

I read this week about a exhibit that showed over the winter at the Getty Museums in LA of found photographs - you know, discarded old family photos found in thrift stores, on the street, tucked inside of a library book or whathaveyou. I've had to sift long and always impatiently through boxes of photos to find the elusive Grails of family photos. But when you get a good one -- man, what stories you can concoct in your brain about the people in the photo, and this one moment in their lives that was so important as to be recorded on film.

Here's links to the book and the exhibit (now closed)