ArtSlant - Openings & events en-us 40 Ron Silliman, Robert Fitterman - Dia Art Foundation - March 4th, 2013 6:30 PM - 8:30 PM <h3 class="subtitle_4">Ron Silliman</h3> <div class="content_body dia-links">Ron Silliman was born in Pasco, Washington, in 1946. He has written and edited over 30 books, including, most recently, <i>Wharf Hypothesis</i> (Lines Press, 2011). His poetry and criticism have been translated into 12 languages. He was a Kelly Writers House Fellow at the University of Pennsylvania in 2012, and the recipient of the Levinson Prize from the Poetry Foundation in 2010. He has taught at the Graduate Writing Program at San Francisco State University, the University of California at San Diego, New College of California, Naropa University, and Brown University. <a href="">Silliman’s Blog</a> reached its tenth anniversary at the end of August and has had over three and a half million visitors during that time. He currently lives in Chester County, Pennsylvania.</div> <p><a class="anchortag" name="c1807"></a></p> <h3 class="subtitle_4">Robert Fitterman</h3> <div class="content_body dia-links">Robert Fitterman is the author of 12 books of poetry. Born in 1959 in a small suburb of St. Louis, Missouri, called Creve Coeur, he has lived in New York City since 1981. He is the author of the long poem <i>Metropolis</i>, which has been published in four volumes. Other titles include <i>Holocaust Museum</i> (Veer Books, 2011); <i>now we are friends </i> (Truck Books, 2010); <i>Rob the Plagiarist </i> (Roof Books, 2009); and <i>Notes on Conceptualisms</i>, coauthored with Vanessa Place (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2009). He teaches writing and poetry at New York University and at the Bard College, Milton Avery School of Graduate Studies. Reviews of his work can be found on his website: <a href="" target="_blank"></a>.</div> <p><a class="anchortag" name="c1854"></a></p> <h3 class="subtitle_4">BART by Ron Silliman</h3> <div class="content_body dia-links">Begin going down, Embarcadero, into the ground, earth’s surface, escalators down, a world of tile, fluorescent lights, is this the right ticket, labor day, day free of labor, trains, a man is asking is there anything to see, Glen Park, Daly City, I’m going south which in my head means down but I’m going forward, she says he should turn around, off at Powell, see Union Square, see Chinatown, last day of the season so they say, visualize tourists, worms in a salad, wife speaks no English, Czech perhaps, Soviet, Polish, is this the right ticket, carpet of the car is yellow, orange, green, red, blue woven in also, going faster now, lights flicker now out the windows, dark there, not flicker but we pass them so quickly, didn’t realize this station was underground, 11:30 Glen Park, we surface, cloudy day, these windows are dirty, should I get off here, should I wait, forget about Balboa Park, is it there, does it exist, does it exist for a reason, pen is blue for a change, a possible difference, a man about my age with razorcut hair, old women, I get off, Daly City, go down concrete stairs, into the interior again but not really, the ticket is wrong, means I’ll spend 75¢, okay, pay more attention, the vagueness of the landscape here, a large parkinglot and beyond it houses, nothing special, this is where they keep the families now, upstairs to the platform, this one to Concord, a man, his wife, two sons, one daughter, another man in a tweed hat, is that what you call a fedora, not really, Arthur Jackson please call the station agent, taking a long time to get underway, doors close, I feel the motion first in the small of my back, my butt, car hums as it moves, you can hear the air-conditioning, another world when you come out she sez, look at those houses, big dumpsters in supermarket parking lot, we’re above it all, but now going down again, Balboa Park, second time, car stops, nobody gets off or on, money’s available, we’ll prove it, says Wells Fargo, poster of a stage coach, this is an act, this is deliberate, parallel to the freeway, apartments very square here, you don’t think of it as the City but it is, go into the world and describe it, the farther talks with his youngest son, rest of the family is silent, more people get on, no one gets off, 11:59, moves quickly now, other conversations not loud enough for me to hear them, voice on the public address system sez 24th Street, no one is waiting but we stop, bought this notebook just for today, months ago, bought this pen just last Friday, today’s Monday, Kathy Tobin and Shelley have pens just like it, 49¢, stiletto point, man gets on with a racing form in hand, looks apprehensive, you always see stress in everyone’s face, it’s in their eyes, how they hold their mouths, as if it took an effort to keep their lips in control, from contorting, you don’t need to know them, any day, especially after work, Civic Center, 12:08, car’s half full now, a longer stop than usual, no one’s tried to sit next to me so far, Ev sez I wear my hair like a wild man, it puts the straights off, three older people stand and wait to get off, that man with the hat, carpet is mostly a yellow blend on this car too, fat woman with two boys, she shouts at them to sit down, I see my reflection in the window, an act of description, hand writing, good thing I don’t get car sick, back now at Embarcadero, more people on, this has a different rhythm than buses, Duncan writes on them, anthology of literature scribed on public transit, man sitting next to me now, had to put my book bag on my lap, move my Argus C-3, gray hair, balding, wears a green sweater, realize I’m under water now, the bay, we all are, you too, move at 80 mph, now that boy’s talking to his mother, America is beware of microwave ovens, I’m wearing my phony earth shoes, beginning to show their age, harder to write with the book bag in my lap, alters the angle, the surface, Oakland now, rail yards, Military Ocean Terminal, postal station for incoming foreign mail, where I’d be if I hadn’t quit, 8 years ago this month, every cell in body different now, that woman’s still ordering her children, just her form of conversation, boxcars, seatrains, above the ghetto, sunnier here, the symbol of Mack Truck is a bulldog, Tribune Tower on the left lost now amid office buildings, into the earth again, you can hear metal scraping, forget the air conditioning, this trend destined for Concord, man with the green sweater gets off, wanna ride backwards somebody sez, more young people on the car now, man in front of me seems to have gone to sleep, red tile at 12th Street, blue at 19th , Japanese tourist, this is the familiar part to me now, way to Berkeley, more scraping as the car turns, I anticipate the nature of future stops, Pill Hill to the right, cluster of hospitals, with the inevitable parasites, chem. labs, funeral homes, why call them parlors, remember waiting at MacArthur Station at twilight one night with Acker, sunset just before the rainfall, blacks in pith helmets are taking polaroids of one another, now a woman sits next to me, here probable husband next to the man in the yellow shirt who wakes and goes back to his Chronicle, sixth of September, Grove-Shafter Freeway to the right, now they move to sit together, can I find my mother’s place from here, no, take my jacket off, getting warm, Rockridge, 12:30, beautiful homes then below ground for a minute, how is a tunnel thru a hill the same or different from one underground or under water, suddenly remember nights of staying up high to scribble verbatim thots as poems, 1964, Ginsbergesque or so I thought, I didn’t think when that ordering mother got off, college age couple there now, arms about one another, description implies a relation, the dry hills of Orinda, at the end of a summer drought, John and Ann used to live at the top of that hill, house is still there, we used to visit often, my mother’s older sister, her husband almost as old as her father, my grandparents never approved, trees and low hills, suburbs to the east, country once, when we’re “out doors” above ground I can’t see myself in the window, that’s where the world is, condo-like office buildings, new life in Lafayette, a girl, age 10 at the most, in a bright pink jumpsuit is standing on the platform, waiting to go the other way, hot rods on the freeway beside us, 24 East, man in the yellow shirt is reading TV Log now, there’s a cemetery, I notice a ring on his left hand, for a long time we’ve been turning slightly to the left, in Walnut Creek you can see Mt. Diablo, it’s the mountain here as much as Tam, more parking lots, more condos, why didn’t someone just shoot old Henry Ford, is housing contingent on transportation or vice versa, only in our time have people begun to live away from their work, what it does to the psyche, how large is your turf, my triangle the City, Berkeley, Marin, plus of course parts of Sacramento, Pleasant Hill now farther than I’ve ever gone before, nearing end of line, 12:47, streets without sidewalks, with trees, affect the rural, swimming pools, patterns of colored gravel, a power mower for every home, tanned fat men in shorts, so here’s where they keep all the trains, dozens of them, grey sluglike things, flat brown countryside, I get off at Concord, no place to sit down, clock says my watch is slow, lots of motorcycles in the parkinglot, voice on the speaker system says don’t ride bike on the platform, crowd begins to think out, I find a bench, old men still wear puka shells out here, women in pastel pantsuits, that’s a shopping mall a block away, the parkinglots merge, four state college type jocks sit down on a nearby bench, woman walks by with three children, one in her arms, says of the car as she passes, it looks pretty full, it does, same one I got off of waiting to go back, do I want to drink that Fresca now, perfect summer weather here, so often I’ve noticed that people who grew up in the country work in the suburbs, service the people who work each day in the city, train pulls out and suddenly I see the whole west side of the balley, train engineers wear blue jumpsuits, slight breeze, woman comes by saying Steven, Steven, someone walks by with a transistor radio playing Spanish, scowls at us, couple with a baby talks to me, how often do they run, this one’s crowded, standing room only, I get a spot but I’ll have to ride backwards, woman in dark glasses tells her daughter to sit in her lap, she doesn’t but takes a seat to herself, sobbing softly, blond girl, 4 maybe, leans over her seat, watches me write this, guy sits next to me almost lands on top of my camera, has an “army” haircut and a brown paperbag, what is described forms a place, all words aim at that, I’m more cramped now, jacket, bookbag, Argus in my lap, my left hand rests on the case of the Argus, holds the notebook, red cover, white pages, my wrist beginning to ache from the controlled act of writing, these aren’t tourists, they’re locals riding around as if they were, travel plans of the working class, now we’re down to standing room only, 1:19, going backwards exerts a pull, San Angel Road, you could type towns by the kind of street signs they use, color, how much information they put on them, etc., housing tract, ranchstyle school grounds, an orchard, someone says he’s a native of San Francisco, Pleasant Hill and lots of people want to board, the couples in the next seats have introduced themselves to each other, he designs restaurant décor, we pass Palmer School, lots of vans, campers, minibuses out here, condos in the distance, a few eucalyptus, yesterday at this time I was basking in the centerfield bleachers at Candlestick Park, Montefusco halfway to a four-nothing shutout, man came up to us wearing bones in his ears, wanted to look at our fieldglasses, cameras, offered us a hit of coke, smack, grass if we wanted, we didn’t even if we did, he showed us the coke, it was yellow, that was yesterday, it doesn’t exist anymore, Lafayette and still more people get on, it’s an event, ride BART for a day for a quarter, labor day is a day of rest, of description, is a relationship of words to place, nearing Orinda, voice sez her name is Jennifer too, Upper Happy Valley Road, Acalanes, Mt Diablo Blvd, I’m growing older in small units, by the minute now, new information modifies my history, losing weight too, 30 lbs since June, should these things have seatbelts, air bags, one of the women standing is overweight, beside her is a beautiful daughter, she too looked like that once, assumption, my ears pop, we’re back in Oakland, in the Montclair section, then Rockridge, train on the far platform on its way to Concord, money’s available, we’ll prove it, sez Wells Fargo, older houses now, this town is black, run by whites, I get off at MacArthur, decide to sit in the sun awhile, drink my Fresca, have to shove thru mob of boarders to do it, not as hot here, my whole body is feeling the motion, it puts a stress, a pull on every organ, wobble a bit or stagger, sit cross-legged at end of platform, realize I haven’t had a cigarette today, trying to quit again, Camels left on my desk at home, man in a yellow shirt on the platform looks like my idea of a Navajo, has that broad face and crewcut particular to my image of that, wearing cowboy boots as well, Fremont train pulls in, I’ll let it pass, want to finish my Fresca, take a few photos, get the motion out of my body, one way to see the bay, even see the City from here, 1:59, I’m only half done, is that it, an act, something done deliberately, of description, which means place, but of travel, meaning place shifts, alters, speech chain Moebius Strip, had not expected the crowd, but that’s alright, this blue ink is lovely, a pleasure to watch, jotting, is what I do, wander around the platform, take photos, speaker system sez slight delay on the Richmond-bound line, which is exact opposite of one I’m waiting for which arrives as I write this, jammed it seems as I wait to board, but not really, just people waiting to get off, an act of writing without let up, downtown Oakland now, can’t even find the Tribune Tower, then underground again, all these cars have identical rugs, realize that I was wrong before, it was a five-nothing shutout, I forgot Gary Alexander’s homer, his very first, in the eighth, up into the rightfield bleachers, 12th Street, more people get on, have to stand now, kids getting on one train, get off, get on another, repeat the performance, an act of endurance, calling each other names, you’re stupid, etc., should we get off at Fremont, a long way from there yet, they run down the aisle onto the next car, another group follows, a small girls is eating a saltine, the woman I’m sitting next to is her mother, in front of me a woman with gray hair, a permanent, in a red jacket, man standing in the aisle holding onto the handrails pulls himself up off the floor on the car, feet swing forward and back, Lake Merritt, woman next to me, across the aisle, wearing a pale green suit, above ground again, pass Richmond-bound train, quick gray flash and it’s gone, East Oakland, Polymir, a big Monkey Wards store, Melrose Ford, church spires, Fruitvale, people get off, not on, for once, hear a voice say “I’m sorry,” Jimmy Carter for President ’76, blue sign painted (crudely) on side of apartment building, oomaloom, Michael, thinking of you, down below the carbarn for the AC Transit buses, Oakland Coliseum across the parking lot, CSB Construction, Sunshine Biscuits, Fun Games Inc., PACO, water tower, Standard Brands, homes build just before the war, green, pink, light blue, yellow, another train to Richmond, just the facts, m’am, just the facts, San Leandro, more people get off, woman in a red wheelchair sits in the aisle, a field of greenhouses, homes, now more affluent-looking (not very), now less, Bay Fair shopping center, crowd is thinning means either people are tiring or they don’t want to go to Fremont, less wealthy and intriguing, than Concord, homes not that poor, tho, small boats in the driveways, Hayward, large blocks of apartments, a school in the blue and green, Grand Auto, apple trees, willows, 2:46, never was this far before, a golf course, dry fields, another BART carbarn, I change seats, rooms to sit by a window, hawk in the sky, hills to the left grow higher, still dryer, a large playground, Union City, grain mills, auto wrecking yards, Pacific States Steel, this isn’t so far from San Jose, a small lake with water, I’m the only white left on this car, tourism is different to different peoples, train stops before we get to the station, people stand, stretch, kids dash up and down aisles, whooping, parents not caring to stop it, Japanese man asks me if this is Fremont, people get on, I see that the woman in the wheel chair is Indian or Pakistani, children are crying or whimpering in español, sign on a hillside says Niles, where they used to make silent movies, westerns, my grandfather would ride his motorcycle out from Berkeley to watch them, fingerprints on these windows, black smudges like a grease pencil, black man in a turban wanders about the platform, a little girl comes up and makes a face at me, friendly, my right lens is scratched, a slight blur, need a new pair of shades, also new trousers, new jacket, we move again, pass a stable, kids shout caballos, a lake, then homes, this world is foreign to me, an act of description, old rail cars, I-beams, a school or hospital off in the distance, we stop, a woman gets on chewing blue gum, a yardful of transformers, PG&amp;E, old homes, weathered, wooden, no lawns, just dirt, these tracks constantly bordered with cyclone fence topped with barbed wire (and I only just noticed), girl in a pink dress cries, a vacant lot, full of refrigerators and stoves, South Hayward, 3:13, woman with the gum gets off, others get on, I’ve seen hundreds, thousands of people, only one I’ve recognized, an old man in the CP, we merely nodded, a helicopter going in the other direction, this will be the longest stretch of riding yet, to Richmond, or maybe not, grove of apple trees, in Hayward I can see Mt. Diablo from another angle, nobody gets on or off, the sign for no smoking is a burning cigarette behind a red barred circle, the sign for no trespassing is the outline of a hand, in which the thing described is constantly moving, I can never hope to know all these lives, Honda Civics, bugs, Fiats, my brother and I would go with our grandparents each Sunday for a “ride in the country,” which meant Grizzly Peak Boulevard, or out the Arlington or down to Lake Merritt, Golden Grain Spaghetti plant, more greenhouses, where people work takes up nearly as much space as where they live, but you forget about it, those become empty spaces, an old man with bright blue socks runs along the platform to get on, San Leandro, I flex my writing hand to ease the pain, see a young man is watching me intently, trying to figure this out, AJB Linoleum, nothing but blacks on the streets below, then more plants, one for yeast, billboard in Spanish, Longview Fibre, sky a very light blue, two teenage boys in identical white baseball shirts with greensleeves walk by, going by the carbarn I realize all those buses have numbers painted on their roves, I see in the distant hills the Greek Orthodox Church and the Oakland Mormon Temple, getting closer, lumberyard, chopped Harley, what I describe is what comes to me in words as I look out the window, miss all the rest, can’t even write it all, Fruitvale, the big Chicano family gets off, Texaco, Shell, patio furniture says a sign, distributors of Hartz Mountain, into the earth again, an act of endurance, hand writing, hours without letting up, to see if one can, man in front of me has a shirt the orange of sherbet, his wife, I make these assumptions, a blouse of light purple, only he gets off, 12th Street, she doesn’t still more people get on, standing room again or almost, third time I’m at 19th Street today and not the last, woman over there has a pair of crutches, man sitting beside me wears an off-white leisure suit, Pill Hill, a collection of overpasses is often beautiful, curving masses of concrete, MacArthur Station, a crowd mobs in, people complain of the heat, this station the key to the system, many people standing, now an older woman in a heavy sweater sits by me, how can you describe people when you can only see surface features, Grove Street, I see the Berkeley Campanile, the Clairmont Hotel, the old portable classrooms of Merritt College on wheels now, the campus to be torn down, Ashby, into Berkeley for the first time today, I hear somebody ask someone else her name, people get off at the downtown station, I’ve only talked once all afternoon, more people get off, few tourists left, there are only three more stops to Richmond, above ground on Gilman Street, neighborhood where I grew up, houses I’ve lived in, Solano Street, a game of baseball in Feeney Field, the bar in the circle of the no-smoking sign goes from upper left to lower right, an act, homage to you Jack, oomaloom, one word after another, tennis courts, a man and a boy walk thru an empty parkinglot, gulls sleep on a football field at a highschool, another carbarn for AC Transit, I get off at Richmond, it’s windy, I put on my jacket, 4:04, I can see Mt. Tam, Point Richmond in the distance, somebody’s taking my photograph, two older couples are sneaking cigarettes behind a sign, younger people just do it, who cares, teenagers run up and down the platform, slap the car windows, board and get off, giggles and shouts the quality of light is just beginning to change, late afternoon means earlier now, mid- September, I try to figure how many stations I’ll go by today, 71, couple in front of me is just starting their trip, they decide to go to Concord, she takes a Dramamine, a family gets on, all the kids have chartreuse turtlenecks with their names on it, we go by an old trailer park, another lumber yards, new condos on the west slope of Albany Hill, on my left my old high school, thru a thin haze barely see the outline of the City, no Golden Gate, a dozen kids dark down the car, others follow, cooler now, they got off daddy a kid sez to another, kids now running in opposite direction, still find tourists in Berkeley, the car crowds in a hurry, I’m feeling weary now, wish my ears would pop, a small woman with a thick accent sits beside me, two young people, a couple, are with her, they seem to really like her, she wears a yellow dress, a copper bracelet, there’s a motorcycle parked on the freeway, the City more visible from Oakland, but not very, I get off at MacArthur to transfer, my hand hurts, I wobble walking, a woman comes up, asks me what Im doing, we discuss writing, she wants to try it “sometime,” asks me as I writing things, I shrug, I don’t ask her name, the Daly City train comes, I get on , it’s so crowded I have to stand, I keep writing, I’m much more conspicuous now, people are staring, I can’t hold on and write at the same time, I nearly fall, I’m going to have to stand all the way back, we’ll be back under the bay in a second, 80 mph, a man watches me write this, I remember what Einstein said when asked to explain the theory of relativity in 25 words or less, what time does the station get to the train, it’s coming, Embarcadero, my writing is a scrawl, an act of description, I’m describing these people who watch me, Madras shirt, curly gray hair, here’s the station, I get out, sit down, I can still feel the pulling forces, I am about to board the slow upward path of the escalator, thru the ticket gate with the wrong ticket, then back up to the street level, earth’s surface, then home, 4:51, 9.6.76.</div> <p><a class="anchortag" name="c1810"></a></p> <h3 class="subtitle_4">ROB'S WORD SHOP by Robert Fitterman</h3> <div class="content_body dia-links"><b>Introduction</b><br /><br /> On Wednesday, May 5th, 2010, I opened Rob's Word Shop for the month of May. Rob's Word Shop was a storefront shop where individual letters and words were sold. The words and letters were either chosen by the individual customers or arrived at with my assistance. I would then hand-write or print the letter, word, or words. Single letters were sold for 50 cents and single words for one dollar. My shop location was 308 Bowery (the south window at the Bowery Poetry Club), and my hours of operation were Tuesday through Thursday 11:00AM—2:00PM, from May 5 through May 27. As the sole proprietor of the store, I invited people to stop by for a chat and buy a letter or word or a phrase of words. All of these chats were recorded as videos (and can be viewed on You tube—robswordshop). Each of these video conversations was then transcribed for a forthcoming book. <br /><br /><br /> <b>from Customer 14</b><br /><br /> Customer 14: there's no censorship of content of words?<br /> Rob: absolutely not<br /> Customer 14: and you know how to spell the words?<br /> Rob: well if I don't we look ‘em up<br /> Customer 14: Ok, diarrhea <br /> Rob: that's the word?... good one... um, let's see, and we're talking about the sharpie or the pen?<br /> Customer 14: um... maybe... maybe the sharpie... it makes more of a... well... let's do a comparison... it seems like a bolder way, you know, I think there's two r's... r-r-h-e-a r-h-e-a<br /> Rob: oh, hey... this is my records manager, Lawrence <br /> Customer 14: hey what's up Lawrence?<br /> Rob: This is Andy... Andy did some of the films at Poetry Project last week... that last Friday night thing there were some films...<br /> Customer 14: yeah, it was fun... so where were we... so... <br /> Rob: you just missed Steve... he was here about...<br /> Lawrence: he was?... aw, that's too bad, I must have walked past him<br /> Rob: in fact, we're gonna have lunch right after at two o'clock if you're...<br /> Lawrence: I have to go back around then, but maybe... I'll... maybe I'll walk over with you<br /> Customer 14: maybe we'll go sharpie on this?<br /> Rob: ok<br /> Customer 14: and, uh, and then, uh, after you're doing that I'm, um, I'm gonna buy a, uh, separate letter<br /> Rob: mm-hmm beautiful... now we gotta think about whether we want it horizontal or vertical, landscape or more...<br /> Customer 14: no I... I think landscape<br /> Rob: um... we have to think about, um, any caps, initial caps, all caps, no caps?<br /> Customer 14: um all caps, I think it's kinda... may... may... maybe like where just a litt... like down here a little bit<br /> Rob: mm-hmm... business is jumping today gentlemen...<br /> <br /> —Robert Fitterman</div> Sun, 03 Feb 2013 21:06:11 +0000 - IPCNY International Print Center New York - March 4th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p><b>International Print Center New York</b> announces the presentation of <i>Pop-Up! The Magical World of Movable Books — Selections from the Collection of Bernard S. Shapiro</i>, an exhibition of children’s pop-up books. <i>Pop-Up! </i>will be on view from January 18 - March 9, 2013 in IPCNY’s gallery at 508 West 26th Street, 5th floor.  </p> <p class="p2"><b>Bernard S. Shapiro </b>(1917-2009) was a Boston-based entrepreneur with many interests who formed the collection over a period of some twenty years.  The collection numbers over 250 books, of which thirty-five were originally shown at the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA in the winter of 2012.  IPCNY has selected seventeen from the children’ book portion of the collection for presentation here. </p> <p class="p2"> Mr. Shapiro’s first acquisition was Lothar Meggendorfer’s <i>International Circus:  A Reproduction of the Antique Pop-Up Book,</i> purchased at a neighborhood bookshop in Brookline, MA.  It remained a centerpiece of his collection, inspiring the many acquisitions that followed, discovered in antique shops and bookstores in Boston, New York, Canada, and overseas during travels. </p> <p class="p2">An illustrated brochure with a curatorial essay by <b>Leonard S. Marcus </b>will accompany the Exhibition.  Mr. Marcus is one of the world’s leading authorities on children’s books and illustrations.  The author of more than twenty books, Mr. Marcus is a frequent contributor to the New York Times Book Review and is a founding trustee of the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, Massachusetts. He is currently curating the New York Public Library’s major exhibition for 2013, which will open on June 7 and will remain on view through March 2014.</p> <p class="p2"><i>Pop-Up!</i> will be presented in the <i>Viewing Room</i> adjacent to IPCNY’s main gallery, where<i> New Prints 2013/Winter</i> will be on view. Exhibition design is by Artist and facilitator, Grayson Cox. IPCNY is grateful to Barbara Stern Shapiro for generously lending the selections from Mr. Shapiro’s collection of pop-up books for the exhibition, and to the Norman Rockwell Museum for its assistance with the project. The exhibition is made possible thanks to the generous contributions of two anonymous individuals.  A grant from the PECO Foundation supports IPCNY’s Exhibitions Program this season.</p> Mon, 04 Mar 2013 22:56:06 +0000 Sylvie Fleury - Salon 94 Bowery - March 4th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p>Salon 94 Bowery is pleased to present Swiss artist Sylvie Fleury’s first exhibition with the gallery entitled It Might As Well Rain Until September. The show is Fleury’s first major solo show in New York in over ten years, and will present a survey of the artist’s work made over the past two decades, alongside new site-specific pieces.<br />Fleury is known for work that considers luxury objects, consumer identity, status symbols, and the fetishized cultures of fashion and beauty. The investigation into the virtues of consumer society and media messages is a trademark of the artist’s best-known pieces. To foreground her first exhibition at Salon 94, Fleury will install a group of new paintings called Go Bust that, like her best known pieces, often directly quote and re-contextualize the celebrated signature works of white male artists. Sylvie’s new pieces riff on both the Op-Art icon Victor Vasarely’s Gordes series, which famously uses geometric distortion to create the illusion of bulbous forms on a flat surface, as well as Damien Hirst’s colorful Spot paintings. The imagery in Fleury’s paintings takes the single and flat masculine forms and doubles them to be read as breasts, rotund female forms posited as the archetypal “dot.”<br />Fleury’s installations hinge on the relationship between seduction and superficiality, art and advertising, conceptualism and consumerism. Fleury’s oeuvre is a decidedly feminist one, often subverting the traditional male modernist art practices with her own use of cast bronze sculpture and abstract painting. In a Daniel Buren-like gesture, Fleury paints the space with floor-to-ceiling vertical stripes that periodically contain oval-shaped blanks—or feminine openings. The stripes fit into Fleury’s “girlie” pink-purple palette, a strategy she uses to provocatively mark major art historical movements such as minimalism and conceptualism with the slight sparkle of a fashion trend.<br />Also featured are neon signs that appropriate messages from the beauty industry. Commercial slogans like “Be Amazing” and “Moisturizing is the Answer” cast a rosy hue on the gallery. Fleury re-uses retail mottos targeted to women as ready-mades that radiate ultimate philosophies for viewing in a visual culture. An oversized and super shiny razor-blade leans against the wall like a reflective John McCracken plank, a minimalist object of material fetish and surface sheen, in this case with a potentially fatal edge. A vertical wall piece of metal boxes parrots the Untitled stacks of Donald Judd, though Fleury’s indelicate version includes saggy, drippy, brightly colored turds that ooze out of and over each part. Marking these recognizable objects with ambiguous traces of commerce and art historical content, she uses the work like a body, susceptible to styles, desires, and surface projections.<br />Sylvie Fleury was born in Geneva in 1961, where she currently lives and works. She has been exhibiting her work regularly since 1991. Recently, she has been the subject of one-person shows at Centre de Arte Contemporaneo in Malaga, Spain in 2011; Musée d’Art Contemporain de Genéve in Geneva, Switzerland in 2008; and Kunsthalle Wien in Vienna in 2006.</p> Wed, 27 Feb 2013 22:54:23 +0000 Group Show - Society of Illustrators - March 4th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p>“Eastward I go only by force; but westward I go free.”—Henry David Thoreau</p> <p>As the American frontier passed into history, the myths of the West in fiction and film took firm hold in the imagination of Americans and foreigners alike. “No other nation,” says author David Murdoch, “has taken a time and place from its past and produced a construct of the imagination equal to America’s creation of the West.”</p> <p>The cowboy was the quintessential symbol of the American frontier and his image was recreated by master illustrators like James Montgomery Flagg and Charles Hargens. As two sons of an Ohio harness maker, the brothers Matt and Benton Clark painted authoritative works that jumped from the pages of Hearst, Argosy and the American Weekly magazines.</p> <p>Some heroes came right off the silver screen and were featured in daily comic strips. Bernard Thompson and Till Goodan made Gene Autry and his companions come alive in those terrific Sunday panels.<br /><br />Many of us grew up watching our favorite Western characters on television. Those iconic series: <em>Gunsmoke, Bonanza, The Adventures of Daniel Boone</em> or <em>Little House on the Prairie</em> were inspired by literature and brought to life with the fine illustrations that accompanied them.<br /><br />The old <em>Collier’s Weekly</em> published dramatic western-themed illustrations by John Gannam, Harry Edwards, Frank Street and Thomas Fogarty. Warren Baumgartner and Bruce Bomberger applied their early training as pulp artists and packed their illustrations with authentic details of shootouts, homesteading, buffalo hunting, and conflicts with the noble tribes of the Great Plains.<br /><br />Modern illustrators like Walt Spitzmiller, Manuel Sanjulian and John McDermott captured the western landscape populated with rugged broncobusters, saloonkeepers and rodeo cowpokes for articles in contemporary publications.</p> <p>On display in the Third Floor Hall of Fame Gallery. </p> Sun, 31 Mar 2013 23:53:45 +0000 Aaron J. Hauck, Iñigo Sesma, Vladimir Ginzburg, Kristen Liu-Wong - TNC Gallery - March 4th, 2013 6:00 PM - 9:00 PM <p>Large scale drawings and paintings as well as well smaller works and one sculpture. All are about cities, dreams or nightmares and combinations thereof. From the realistic to the surreal. Four artists: two academically trained, one a senior at Pratt, and one a self-taught outsider. TNC Gallery, on First Avenue in the East Village between 9th and 10th. Opening Party March 4th, 2013.  6-9 P.M.</p> Mon, 25 Feb 2013 19:07:02 +0000 - Zürcher Studio - March 4th, 2013 5:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p>OUT OF TOWN will be the 5th Edition of SALON ZÜRCHER and will take place March 4-10, 2013 at ZÜRCHER STUDIO, NY. OUT OF TOWN seeks to represent an emerging art world outside of New York City. Zürcher has hosted 4 mini art fairs, which have been major successes and garnered very positive media attention. Zürcher Studio is located in the East Village, in walking distance from the lower east-side art scene and the New Museum. The salon will function as an accessible yet impressive, small but representative art fair, this year showcasing 6 galleries from across the United States. Salon Zürcher offers visitors an intimate alternative to the large-scale, superstore style fairs during the Armory week in New York.. Opening : Monday, March 4th / 5-8pm Hours : Tuesday, March 5th – Saturday, March 9th / 12-8pm Sunday, March 10th / 12-5pm Closing : Sunday, March 10th 5pm</p> Mon, 25 Feb 2013 01:55:44 +0000 Group Show - Gagosian Gallery - 980 Madison Ave. - March 5th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p><em>I want to be the Henry Ford of book making.</em><br />—Ed Ruscha</p> <p>Gagosian Gallery is pleased to present an exhibition of Ed Ruscha’s legendary artist books together with books and works of art by more than 100 contemporary artists that respond directly and diversely to Ruscha’s original project. Organized by Bob Monk, “Ed Ruscha Books &amp; Co.” has been drawn from private collections, including Ruscha’s own. Most of the books are installed so that viewers can interact with them and browse their pages.</p> <p>Inspired by the unassuming books that he found on street stalls during a trip to Europe, in 1962 Ruscha published his first artist book, <em>Twentysix Gasoline Stations</em> under his own imprint, National Excelsior Press. A slim, cheaply produced volume, then priced at $3.50, <em>Twentysix Gasoline Stations</em> did exactly what its title suggests, reproducing twenty-six photographs of gasoline stations next to captions indicating their brand and location. All of the stations were on Route 66, the road mythologized by the eponymous TV series and in John Steinbeck’s <em>The Grapes of Wrath</em>. Ruscha’s book traveled more or less west to east, from the first service station in Los Angeles, where he moved as a young man, back to Oklahoma City, where he grew up. </p> <p>Initially, the book received a poor reception, rejected by the Library of Congress for its “unorthodox form and supposed lack of information.” However, during the sixties it acquired cult status, and by the eighties it was hailed as one of the first truly modern artist's books. Ruscha followed up <em>Twentysix Gasoline Stations</em>(1962) with a succession of kindred publications, including <em>Some Los Angeles Apartments</em> (1965), <em>Nine Swimming Pools and a Broken Glass</em> (1968), and <em>Real Estate Opportunities</em> (1970), all of which combined the literalness of early California pop art with a deadpan photographic aesthetic informed by minimalist sequence and seriality.<br /><br />As the prolific and playful examples in the exhibition attest, Ruscha’s artist books have proved to be deeply influential, beginning with Bruce Nauman’s <em>Burning Small Fires</em> (1968), for which Nauman burned Ruscha's <em>Various Small Fires and Milk</em>(1964) and photographed the process. More than forty years later, photographer Charles Johnstone relocated Ruscha's <em>Twentysix Gasoline Stations</em> in Cuba, producing the portfolio <em>Twentysix Havana Gasoline Stations</em> (2008). The most recent homage is <em>One Swimming Pool</em> (2013) by Dutch artist Elisabeth Tonnard, who re-photographed one of the photographs from Ruscha's <em>Nine Swimming Pools and a Broken Glass</em> (1968) and enlarged it to the size of a small swimming pool, consisting of 3164 pages the same size as the pages in Ruscha's original book. The pages of this ‘pool on a shelf’ can be detached to create the life-size installation. Between these early and recent examples are a wealth of responses to Ruscha's ideas by artists from all over the world, gathered here in this celebratory exhibition:</p> <p>ABC Artists’ Books Cooperative, Noriko Ambe, Edgar Arceneaux, Eric Baskauskas, Luke Batten / Jonathan Sadler (New Catalogue), Erik Benjamins, Victoria Bianchetti, Doro Boehme, Jeff Brouws, Denise Scott Brown, Wendy Burton, Stephen Bush, Corinne Carlson, Dan Colen, Julie Cook, Jennifer Dalton, Bill Daniel, Claudia de la Torre, Joshua Deaner, Jen DeNike, Eric Doeringer, Stan Douglas, Harlan Erskine, Frank Eye, Kota Ezawa, Robbert Flick, Jan Freuchen, Jochen Friedrich, Thomas Galler, Anne-Valérie Gasc, Steve Giasson, Simon Goode, Oliver Griffin, Daniel S. Guy, Dejan Habicht, Marcella Hackbardt, Sebastian Hackenschmidt, Karen Henderson, Mishka Henner, Kai-Olaf Hesse, Taro Hirano, Marla Hlady, Dominik Hruza, Steven Izenour, Sveinn Fannar Jóhannsson, Taly and Russ Johnson, Charles Johnstone, Rinata Kajumova, Henning Kappenberg, Jean Keller, Shohachi Kimura, Julia Kjelgaard, Joachim Koester, Sowon Kwon, Tanja Lažetic, Gabriel Lester, Jonathan Lewis, Jochen Manz, Michael Maranda, Scott McCarney, Mark McEvoy, Jerry McMillan, Daniel Mellis, Martin Möll, Dan Monick, Jonathan Monk, Simon Morris, Audun Mortensen, Brian Murphy, Toby Mussman, Maurizio Nannucci, Bruce Nauman, John O'Brian, Stefan Oláh, Performance Re-Enactment Society, Michalis Pichler, Tadej Pogačar, Susan Porteous, James Prez, Clara Prioux, Robert Pufleb, Joseph Putrock, Jon Rafman, Achim Riechers, David John Russ, Mark Ruwedel, Tom Sachs, Joachim Schmid, Andreas Schmidt, Jean-Frédéric Schnyder, David Schoerner, Yann Sérandour, Travis Shaffer, Gordon Simpson, Paul Soulellis, Tom Sowden, Kim Stringfellow, Derek Stroup, Derek Sullivan, Yoshikazu Suzuki, Chris Svensson, Eric Tabuchi, Elisabeth Tonnard, John Tremblay, Marc Valesella, Wil Van Iersel, Louisa Van Leer, Robert Venturi, Reinhard Voigt, Alex Von Bergen, Emily Wasserman, John Waters, Henry Wessel, Keith Wilson, Charles Woodard, Theo Wujcik, Mark Wyse, Hermann Zschiegner</p> <p>“Ed Ruscha Books &amp; Co.” will coincide with the publication of MIT Press's <em>Various Small Books: Referencing Small Books</em> by Ed Ruscha (2013), which documents ninety-one of the books inspired by Ruscha’s own, reproducing covers and sample layouts from each, along with a detailed description. V<em>arious Small Books</em>… also includes selections from Ruscha’s books and an appendix listing most of the known Ruscha book tributes.</p> <p><a href="" rel="nofollow">On March 6, Ed Ruscha will appear in conversation with Paul Holdengräber at the New York Public Library.</a></p> <p><strong>Ed Ruscha</strong> was born in Omaha, Nebraska in 1937 and studied painting, photography, and graphic design at the Chouinard Art Institute (now CalArts). His work is collected by museums worldwide. Major museum exhibitions include the drawing retrospective “Cotton Puffs, Q-Tips®, Smoke and Mirrors,” which toured U.S. museums in 2004–05; “Ed Ruscha: Photographer,” Whitney Museum of American Art and the Musée National Jeu de Paume, Paris (2006); and, “Ed Ruscha: Fifty Years of Painting,” Hayward Gallery, London (2009, traveling to Haus der Kunst, Munich and Moderna Museet, Stockholm in 2010); “Ed Ruscha: Road Tested,” Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth, Texas (2011); “On the Road,” Hammer Museum, Los Angeles (2011); and "Reading Ed Ruscha" Kunsthaus Bregenz, Austria (2012). In 2012 Ruscha curated “The Ancients Stole All Our Great Ideas" at the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, working from the art and natural history collections.</p> <p>For further information please contact the gallery at<a href="" rel="nofollow"></a> or at <a href="tel:+1.212.744.2313" rel="nofollow">+1.212.744.2313</a>.</p> Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:07:01 +0000 Rita Ackermann - Hauser & Wirth 69th Street New York - March 5th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p>In Rita Ackermann's art, the systematic and the accidental are kept in a state of constant dialogue and debate. Balance and the effort to achieve it have become the main focus of her process, and a kind of magical flux has become both the subject and condition of her art. Nowhere is the alchemy of Ackermann's work more vivid than in the group of seventeen paintings made between the years of 2010 and 2013 and presented in <strong>Negative Muscle</strong>, the artist's first exhibition with Hauser &amp; Wirth in New York, opening 5 March 2013.</p> <p><strong>Negative Muscle </strong>will remain on view at the gallery through 20 April 2013.</p> <p>The exhibition takes its title from the very first painting Ackermann made following an intensive collaboration with filmmaker Harmony Korine on 'Shadow Fux', their 2010 exhibition of jointly-made collages at the Swiss Institute of Contemporary Art, New York NY. After 'Shadow Fux', Ackermann has said, 'I felt a new kind of restless optimism about returning to my own artistic problems. 'I wanted to explore all the experience I collected while giving up an individual perspective. When I made 'Negative Muscle', I painted it freely without the confines of using photo elements or anything given to me to work with. It is a touchstone. I always think of it'.</p> <p>Unfolding from 'Negative Muscle', the exhibition at Hauser &amp; Wirth reveals Ackermann's evolution over the past three years. Works on view include such 2010 paintings as 'Without a Body' and 'Electro-Chemical Impulse', achieved with the help of media ranging from oil paint and charcoal to rabbit skin glue, and a group of paintings on paper made in 2012. The centrepiece of <strong>Negative Muscle</strong> is a group of six new paintings from 'Fire by Days', a major ongoing series Ackermann initiated in late 2010. Heralding a merger of the non-representational and the figurative in her art, the 'Fire by Days Blues' canvases map Ackermann's progression towards a highly personal and poetic form of abstraction.</p> <p>Emphasizing the color blue in clouds and marks reminiscent of her ballpoint pen drawings, the 'Fire by Days Blues' paintings expand and intensify Ackermann's longstanding motifs: As always, the artist creates compositional whirlpools, but the figurative quality of her earlier works has been liberated here by an unmistakable velocity. In the words of critic József Meyli, 'Bodies move in and out of<br /> the picture plane, constantly morphing, disintegrating and achieving an almost magical duality of weightless grace and monstrous heaviness'. </p> <p>Once explicit in her art, the human form plays an erotic hide-and-seek in the new paintings by emerging from and disappearing into the picture. Lines of spray paint and patches of color on the surface challenge depth of space and crack open the underlying systems Ackermann has created within each painting. The effect suggests that Ackermann's figures are born from deep within the complex internal order of her paintings and, in the words of József Meyli, 'creasing her canvases and piercing the psychological plane like geological extrusions'. At the same time, the artist points to a parallel dimension beyond what we can see: by intertwining abstraction and representation, bringing bodies and gestures to the forefront and then obscuring them, Ackermann hints at rooms beyond those of the gallery where space, objects and ideas are absorbed into a realm of her own design.</p> <p>Taking its title from French poet Roger Gilbert- Lecomte's 'Vacancy in Glass', Ackermann's 'Fire by Days' series began as an accidental spill of paint on her studio floor. Ackermann mopped up the spill with a Hungarian fire safety poster. 'I wanted to then duplicate the pure power of the accident through this image,' she has said. 'I wanted to multiply its freedom. By repeating the elements of the raw creation of a 'disaster' and failing to keep it from unintentional learned gestures, I arrived at something that violently pushed itself between figuration and abstraction, pushing through to make itself completely free. This type of freedom in painting only arrives for mere seconds, or rather for an immeasurable amount of time, but it reveals infinite perspective'. </p> <p><strong>About the Artist </strong></p> <p>Rita Ackermann was born in 1968 in Budapest, Hungary. She currently lives and works in New York NY. Ackermann's recent exhibitions include a solo show at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Miami FL (2012); 'Bakos', Ludwig Museum, Budapest, Hungary (2011); and 'Rita Ackermann and Harmony Korine: Shadow Fux', Swiss Institute, New York NY (2010). Her work has also featured in numerous group presentations including 'Looking at Music: 3.0', Museum of Modern Art, New York NY (2011); 'Inaugural Exhibition', New Jersey Museum of Contemporary Art, New York NY (2010); 'Street and Studio', Kunsthalle Wien, Vienna, Austria (2010); 'Whitney Biennial', Whitney Museum of American Art, New York NY (2008) and 'Between Two Deaths', Zentrum fur Kunst und Medientechnologie, Karlsruhe, Germany (2007).</p> Wed, 27 Feb 2013 07:00:42 +0000 Christian Philipp Müller, Kevin Beasley - International Studio & Curatorial Program (ISCP) - March 5th, 2013 6:30 PM - 8:00 PM <p>Seating is limited so please arrive early. </p> <p>Brooklyn Commons, a discussion series this winter and spring at ISCP, presents intellectual and artistic pairings between the established Brooklyn-based artist community and ISCP residents. This series puts artists in conversation who have not shared a dialogue in the past and focuses on the vibrant and diverse cultural practitioners living and working in Brooklyn, both long- and short-term.</p> <p><strong>Christian Philipp Müller</strong> and<strong> Kevin Beasley </strong>will discuss<strong> </strong>site-specificity and institutional critique that is rooted in expanded sculpture and the everyday. Both artists interrogate the relationship between material and meaning through the use of socially and historically significant objects.</p> <p>Christian Philipp Müller has been Dean at the School of Art and Design, Kassel since 2011. His solo exhibitions include Kunstmuseum Basel, Museum für Gegenwartskunst (2007) and the Kunstverein München, Munich (1992). Müller has participated in Documenta 13 (2012), Manifesta 7 (2008), and documenta 10 (1997) and was Austrian representative at the Biennale di Venezia (1993).</p> <p>Kevin Beasley received his BFA from the College for Creative Studies, Detroit and his MFA in Sculpture from Yale University in 2012. He has exhibited nationally with The Butcher's Daughter, Detroit and in group shows in Los Angeles, throughout Michigan, and New York. Beasley’s performances were featured during <em>Some Sweet Day </em>at the Museum of Modern Art, New York and Danspace Projects, New York. Currently, Beasley’s work is featured in <em>Fore</em> at the Studio Museum in Harlem.</p> Mon, 04 Mar 2013 22:40:55 +0000 Luigi Ghirri - Matthew Marks Gallery - 526 W. 22nd St. - March 5th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p>Matthew Marks is pleased to announce <b>Luigi Ghirri: <i>Kodachrome</i></b>, the next exhibition in his gallery at 526 West 22nd Street. The exhibition consists of 53 vintage color photographs included in Ghirri’s seminal 1978 publication and exhibition of the same title. This is the first time these important works will be exhibited in the United States. It is also the first one-person Luigi Ghirri exhibition at Matthew Marks Gallery.<br /> <br /> In 1978 Luigi Ghirri self-published his first book, <i><b>Kodachrome</b></i>, an avant-garde manifesto for the medium of photography and a landmark in his own remarkable oeuvre. Ghirri presents his surroundings in the book in tightly cropped images, making photographs of photographs and recording the Italian landscape through its advertisements, postcards, potted plants, walls, windows, and people. His work is deadpan, reflecting a dry wit, and continuously engages with the subject of reality and of landscape as a snapshot of our interaction with the world.<br /> <br /> <i>‘The daily encounter with reality, the fictions, the surrogates, the ambiguous, poetic or alienating aspects, all seem to preclude any way out of the labyrinth, the walls of which are ever more illusory… to the point at which we might merge with them… The meaning that I am trying to render through my work is a verification of how it is still possible to desire and face a path of knowledge, to be able finally to distinguish the precise identity of man, things, life, from the image of man, things, and life.’</i> Luigi Ghirri<br /> <br /> Born in 1942, Luigi Ghirri spent his working life in the Emilia Romagna region of Italy, where he produced one of the most open and layered bodies of work in the history of photography. Although he exhibited extensively during his lifetime, and was at the height of his powers when he died in 1992, it has only been after his untimely death that his true achievement has begun to be appreciated.<br /> <br /> In 2008, the Aperture Foundation published the first book on Ghirri in the United States, and in 2010, Thomas Demand organized the acclaimed exhibition <i>La Carte d’Après Nature</i> around Ghirri’s photographs. His work was featured in the 2011 Venice Biennale, and last year the exhibition <i>Luigi Ghirri – Project Prints</i> was held at the Castello di Rivoli, in Turin. The largest exhibition of Ghirri’s oeuvre opens in April 2013 at the MAXXI Museum in Rome. Ghirri’s photographs will also be included in this summer’s Venice Biennale. <br /> <br /> </p> Tue, 12 Feb 2013 05:26:15 +0000 - New York Historical Society - March 5th, 2013 10:00 AM - 6:00 PM <div id="about"> <div class="field field-type-text field-field-teaser"> <div class="field-items"> <div class="field-item odd"> <p>In honor of its 125th anniversary, the continuing story of Teachers College at Columbia University—covering not only its work in teacher education but also its many ground-breaking contributions in health, psychology, nutrition and other fields—will be the focus of a new exhibit at the New-York Historical Society. <em>Teachers College: Pioneering Education, Celebrating 125 Years of Innovation in Learning</em> is an exhibit of photographs, documents, and artifacts illustrating the history of the nation’s oldest and largest graduate school of education.</p> </div> </div> </div> <div class="body"> <p><em>Teachers College: Pioneering Education, Celebrating 125 Years of Innovation in Learning</em> recaps the College’s humble beginnings as Grace Dodge’s Kitchen Garden Association, through which “lady volunteer” instructors taught cooking, sewing, and other fundamental domestic skills to immigrant women and their children. It traces the Association’s change in focus to educating teachers as the world faced new challenges, and looks at some of the innovations and luminaries that have come from both faculty and graduates. The exhibit concludes with a look at the College’s current-day efforts to shape a new “Century of the Learner” that harnesses new findings from cognitive and neuroscience about how people learn and how teaching can be tailored to meet individual strengths and weaknesses.</p> </div> </div> Mon, 04 Mar 2013 00:33:52 +0000 - THE (UN)FAIR - March 5th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <h1>EXHIBITION SCHEDULE</h1> <p>VIP Reception 3/5, 6-8pm<br />Public Hours 3/6 - 3/10, 11am-8pm</p> Fri, 01 Mar 2013 09:00:48 +0000 James Nares - The Metropolitan Museum of Art - March 5th, 2013 9:30 AM - 5:30 PM <p>My intention was to give the dreamlike impression of floating through a city full of people frozen in time, caught Pompeii-like, at a particular moment of thought, expression, or activity…a film to be viewed 100 years from now.</p> <p>—James Nares</p> <p><em>Street</em>, a new video by the British-born artist James Nares, forms the centerpiece of this exhibition. Over the course of a week in September 2011, Nares—a New Yorker since 1974—recorded sixteen hours of footage of people on the streets of Manhattan from a moving car using a high-definition camera usually used to record fast-moving subjects such as speeding bullets and hummingbirds. He then greatly slowed his source material, editing down the results to one hour of steady, continuous motion and scoring it with music for twelve-string guitar composed and performed by his friend Thurston Moore, co-founder of Sonic Youth.</p> <p>Accompanying <em>Street</em> in its New York premiere are two galleries of objects from the Museum's permanent collection, chosen by Nares to provide different points of entry into aspects of his work. The artist's selection spans 3000 B.C. to A.D. 1987—from the first urban places to contemporary cities—though not every object has a one-to-one correspondence with the video. A few, for example, are meant to evoke the dynamism and abstract energy of the metropolis or to show early attempts at capturing motion in photography and film. Both video and installation are meant to suggest that looking at people in the city—their irreducible gaits and gestures, how they leave traces like signatures across the page of public spaces before vanishing—is one of the eternal wellsprings of the creative impulse.</p> Sun, 03 Mar 2013 00:43:50 +0000 - Asia Society Museum - March 6th, 2013 11:00 AM - 6:00 PM <p>This is the first exhibition to explore the theme of reclusion in Chinese painting and calligraphy within the broader context of political and social changes during the seventeenth century, a time of rich cultural expression and dramatic political change. The rise of major schools of regional painting as well as the trauma of the Ming dynasty’s collapse in 1644 and the Manchu Qing conquest provided an extraordinary context for the creation of historically conscious, often emotionally charged and deeply personal paintings and works of calligraphy. These images, however varied, share an overarching theme of reclusion, a concept of withdrawal and disengagement that has deep and significant roots in China, and which remains relevant in contemporary Chinese art and culture. The exhibition comprises works from public and private collections in the United States and Asia.</p> <p>Organized by the Santa Barbara Museum of Art.</p> Sun, 03 Feb 2013 20:26:11 +0000 Leo Gabin - Elizabeth Dee Gallery - March 6th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Leo Gabin is a dynamic collaborative entity that samples, edits and augments American culture, inspired by the contradictions and creative potential of the Internet as a medium. The gallery is pleased to present the first US solo show of Leo Gabin videos and paintings, which will open on March 5th, 2013 with a reception for the artist from 6-8PM.  Leo Gabin will be featured at Independent, which takes place from March 7th through the 10th.</span></p> Mon, 01 Apr 2013 22:41:56 +0000 Christa Parravani - Foley Gallery - March 6th, 2013 6:00 PM - 8:00 PM <p style="text-align: left;" align="center">FOLEY is extremely pleased to present our first solo photography exhibition of Christa Parravani, entitled <em>Kindred</em>. Parravani's portraits of herself and identical twin sister, Cara play with the dichotomy of formal portraiture and emotional candidness. This haunting and surreal portrait series allowed Cara to regain a sense of lost power after a brutal sexual assault and for Christa, to complete her MFA thesis at Columbia University.<br /> <br /> Each photograph wrestles with her most intimate subject as well as the existential theme and experience being documented. Many inspired questions guide the selection and juxtaposition of these images. Clad in matching cloaks-a costume born out of necessity because Cara was too depressed to get out of her pajamas-Christa chose breathtaking backdrops to showcase their intimate relationship. <br /> <br /> Through images of herself and her sister standing hand-in-hand, kissing, or even positioned at different ends of the frame, Christa conveyed their intertwining souls and unbreakable bond. After Cara's untimely death from a drug overdose, Parrvani's photographs act as a meditation on the nature of identity and a means of catharsis- the account of being left, one half of a whole, and of her desperate, ultimately triumphant struggle for survival. </p> <p style="text-align: left;"><em>        "Kindred was never intended to eulogize my sister, but the bond between us that felt to me as if it were crumbling. At first after she'd died, I couldn't help but view the images as her last testament, and ours. Now I see that the meaning of the work exists somewhere between my young intent and the veracity of life.</em>"</p> <p style="text-align: left;"><em>Her: A Memoir </em>will be published by MacMillian:Henry Holt and Company on March 5th, 2013 to coincide with the exhibition of <em>Kindred. Her: A Memoir</em> will be available at the gallery.  </p> <p style="text-align: left;">Christa Parravani earned her MFA in Visual Art from Columbia University and an MFA in Creative Writing from Rutgers University. Her photographs have been exhibited internationally, and is represented by FOLEY in New York City and the Kopeikin Gallery in Los Angeles.</p> Fri, 08 Feb 2013 05:18:29 +0000