A little bit of history.
As a teenager, when life begins, I hung out with the high school druggies. During that time you could be mod and goth at the same time, which is what I was. I wasn't a punk but had plenty of friends who were. I was nihilistic though.
From ages 18-25 I had gone crazy. I was, literally, a Hare Krishna with a messiah complex. I spent those years of no responsibility to get unlost.
I did end up hanging out with Shelter some and a bunch of cool kids from that scene.
When I finally left, I got a job as a beertender (lost my edge) near Wrigley Field. I was just weird at this point. One Amway slinging patron offered me a job on the CBOE (Chicago Board of Options Exchange) in exchange for joining Amway. With a lie that I had gone to college, I kicked off a career as a grunt in the finance industry.
This was during a historic moment in both the markets (Yahoo and Netscape went public when I was there) and in options specifically (The Black-Scholes Option pricing model had also just started becoming recognized as a tool- hence the options market exploded). Of course at the time I didn't recognize the historic nature of these events.
I milled around, discovered that geekiness was a good thing - but not without a degree, got married to a failed ballerina, bought property and experienced the straightest lifestyle I had ever known. More straight than my upbringing even.
Still I felt like a somnambulist and fightclub-style I destroyed everything. I tore everything down with a zeal for starting from the ground up. I got out of the industry, divorced, sold my property and moved out to SF, looking for what? Freedom? A chance to be true to myself? or experience a life of choices instead of desperate acts and compromises? A fugue state? Or looking for the bottom of the abyss?
For the part of the answer I have been investigating the art scene lately. I just picked up a book "Collecting Contemporary" from Taschen.
It is full of accounts of every type of player in the art market , except the artist. And the word is the art market has split open.
C and I are both on this track of increasing interest. Still as a pragmatist I don't yet see how I can get art to wed survival. I am still looking.
Allow me to be your eyes and ears then, and now recount the scene at last night's dual art shows, Joshua Petker and Chris Yormick, opening at the neighboring and connected galleries, The Shooting Gallery and White Walls, respectively.
We arrived unfashionably early and began with Yormick's work. There was only a couple of people there and the curator was friendly and approached us right away.
Yormick's largest piece was this one, called "Oh Snap"
In this installation there was also a Cubs baseball cap covering the electrical outlet. Later that evening after 3 beers at Ha-Ra and a shot of Tequila with "Carl", we returned to both galleries which were not crowded and, like the asshole, I put the hat on. Then I put it back and asked the curator if it was part of the piece (I thought it was crackhead litter, honest). He said it was and pointed out how the artist used baseball caps in a lot of his work. Like here:
or here:
Then he looked over my shoulder and said, "Oh it looks askew. Let me go fix it."
The other artist we looked at was Joshua Petker. His work was a lot sexier and was flying off the wall. With the portraits of attractive women framed within gold baroque frames, the work gave the gallery a feeling of a haunted bordello in a ghost town.
There was virtually only old folks there when we arrived, presumably doing the buying. Now I had been reading that book and supposedly the market for contemporary art has become gigantor sized. What I was now seeing seemed to solidify this. These august men and women were buying this artist and had to undoubtedly be speculating on his future career.
Link: The image alone is clipboard/link protected
Link: The image alone is clipboard/link protected
One thing that C mentioned was some of the work made her think of Catrina. I was, like "ok hmmm" but then there was this piece and it was more like "ok click!".
Link: The image alone is clipboard/link protected
Get it? Catrina, which is the feminine spanish word for "Dandy" is a Mexican symbol representing the knowledge that no matter your status you will die like everybody in the classes below you. Only the modern version shows an example of Derrida's Zombie, and a more challenging mixture of death and life, and a symbol I am hot for.
He had a series of portraits pieces which are best seen together:Link
Does this one look like Alabama to you? Link
Like I said, when we returned it was a lot more crowded and the thing was... 39% of them were carrying 40 oz'ers.
No bottom of the abyss in sight yet.
As a teenager, when life begins, I hung out with the high school druggies. During that time you could be mod and goth at the same time, which is what I was. I wasn't a punk but had plenty of friends who were. I was nihilistic though.
From ages 18-25 I had gone crazy. I was, literally, a Hare Krishna with a messiah complex. I spent those years of no responsibility to get unlost.
I did end up hanging out with Shelter some and a bunch of cool kids from that scene.
When I finally left, I got a job as a beertender (lost my edge) near Wrigley Field. I was just weird at this point. One Amway slinging patron offered me a job on the CBOE (Chicago Board of Options Exchange) in exchange for joining Amway. With a lie that I had gone to college, I kicked off a career as a grunt in the finance industry.
This was during a historic moment in both the markets (Yahoo and Netscape went public when I was there) and in options specifically (The Black-Scholes Option pricing model had also just started becoming recognized as a tool- hence the options market exploded). Of course at the time I didn't recognize the historic nature of these events.
I milled around, discovered that geekiness was a good thing - but not without a degree, got married to a failed ballerina, bought property and experienced the straightest lifestyle I had ever known. More straight than my upbringing even.
Still I felt like a somnambulist and fightclub-style I destroyed everything. I tore everything down with a zeal for starting from the ground up. I got out of the industry, divorced, sold my property and moved out to SF, looking for what? Freedom? A chance to be true to myself? or experience a life of choices instead of desperate acts and compromises? A fugue state? Or looking for the bottom of the abyss?
For the part of the answer I have been investigating the art scene lately. I just picked up a book "Collecting Contemporary" from Taschen.
It is full of accounts of every type of player in the art market , except the artist. And the word is the art market has split open.
C and I are both on this track of increasing interest. Still as a pragmatist I don't yet see how I can get art to wed survival. I am still looking.
Allow me to be your eyes and ears then, and now recount the scene at last night's dual art shows, Joshua Petker and Chris Yormick, opening at the neighboring and connected galleries, The Shooting Gallery and White Walls, respectively.
We arrived unfashionably early and began with Yormick's work. There was only a couple of people there and the curator was friendly and approached us right away.
Yormick's largest piece was this one, called "Oh Snap"
In this installation there was also a Cubs baseball cap covering the electrical outlet. Later that evening after 3 beers at Ha-Ra and a shot of Tequila with "Carl", we returned to both galleries which were not crowded and, like the asshole, I put the hat on. Then I put it back and asked the curator if it was part of the piece (I thought it was crackhead litter, honest). He said it was and pointed out how the artist used baseball caps in a lot of his work. Like here:
or here:
Then he looked over my shoulder and said, "Oh it looks askew. Let me go fix it."
The other artist we looked at was Joshua Petker. His work was a lot sexier and was flying off the wall. With the portraits of attractive women framed within gold baroque frames, the work gave the gallery a feeling of a haunted bordello in a ghost town.
There was virtually only old folks there when we arrived, presumably doing the buying. Now I had been reading that book and supposedly the market for contemporary art has become gigantor sized. What I was now seeing seemed to solidify this. These august men and women were buying this artist and had to undoubtedly be speculating on his future career.
Link: The image alone is clipboard/link protected
Link: The image alone is clipboard/link protected
One thing that C mentioned was some of the work made her think of Catrina. I was, like "ok hmmm" but then there was this piece and it was more like "ok click!".
Link: The image alone is clipboard/link protected
Get it? Catrina, which is the feminine spanish word for "Dandy" is a Mexican symbol representing the knowledge that no matter your status you will die like everybody in the classes below you. Only the modern version shows an example of Derrida's Zombie, and a more challenging mixture of death and life, and a symbol I am hot for.
He had a series of portraits pieces which are best seen together:Link
Does this one look like Alabama to you? Link
Like I said, when we returned it was a lot more crowded and the thing was... 39% of them were carrying 40 oz'ers.
No bottom of the abyss in sight yet.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
adelina:
I dunno, the painting looks more like Robin and Stormy to me. 
kestrel:
I try. 