god's a gonna trouble the water
Where would we be without JP?
On Jerry's suggestion, I spent my lunch hour yesterday in search of Printed Matter, a fascinating little shop for artists' books that's tucked away in Chelsea's cooler-than-thou gallery district.
I say "in search of" because I apparently wrote the address down wrong when I left the apartment. I ended up at Matthew Marks instead, which turned out to be a happy little surprise. The space's current exhibition is a mind-bending installation by sculptor Robert Gober.
The bf and I had recently spotted another Gober work during our recent visit to MoMA. Creepy stuff. I liked it but wasn't knocked off my feet. No pun intended.
Anyway, this exhibition is a response to 9/11 (because really, what isn't?) that includes several panels reproducing the front page of The New York Times from Sept. 12. Only the pages are in reverse, creating an ominous, everything's wrong kind of vertigo.
Better still was the piece de la resistance (which is French for "money shot"), a towering, headless Christ upon the crucifix with twin streams of water squirting from His nipples. The water pours out in an arc and then vanishes into a hole in the cement floor. I'm thinking, "Jesus, this guy must be important. They tore up the floor for him."
I finally left the lactating savior and continued my original quest. Printed Matters was actually just across the street, and I got there just in time for their annual warehouse sale. (I'm sure there's something very Po-Mo and witty to be said about a place that sells only artists' books having a warehouse sale, but I'm not quite that smart.)
After fingering dozens of hand-made oddities, German texts and photos of semi-erect penises (apparently THE thing to feature in your artist book), I sheepishly left without buying anything. As much as I love the thought of artists books, I usually don't really get them. It's like cruising chicken at the bar: They're fun to look at, but do I really want to bring one home with me? It's sort of the same with the Gober works. That Christ fountain sure was cool, but I'd hate to have to rip up the floor in our apartment to install it.
And on a completely unrelated note, I'm happy to report that a certain grad student I know has started blogging. Class, say hello to Michael.
On Jerry's suggestion, I spent my lunch hour yesterday in search of Printed Matter, a fascinating little shop for artists' books that's tucked away in Chelsea's cooler-than-thou gallery district.
I say "in search of" because I apparently wrote the address down wrong when I left the apartment. I ended up at Matthew Marks instead, which turned out to be a happy little surprise. The space's current exhibition is a mind-bending installation by sculptor Robert Gober.
The bf and I had recently spotted another Gober work during our recent visit to MoMA. Creepy stuff. I liked it but wasn't knocked off my feet. No pun intended.Anyway, this exhibition is a response to 9/11 (because really, what isn't?) that includes several panels reproducing the front page of The New York Times from Sept. 12. Only the pages are in reverse, creating an ominous, everything's wrong kind of vertigo.
Better still was the piece de la resistance (which is French for "money shot"), a towering, headless Christ upon the crucifix with twin streams of water squirting from His nipples. The water pours out in an arc and then vanishes into a hole in the cement floor. I'm thinking, "Jesus, this guy must be important. They tore up the floor for him."
I finally left the lactating savior and continued my original quest. Printed Matters was actually just across the street, and I got there just in time for their annual warehouse sale. (I'm sure there's something very Po-Mo and witty to be said about a place that sells only artists' books having a warehouse sale, but I'm not quite that smart.)
After fingering dozens of hand-made oddities, German texts and photos of semi-erect penises (apparently THE thing to feature in your artist book), I sheepishly left without buying anything. As much as I love the thought of artists books, I usually don't really get them. It's like cruising chicken at the bar: They're fun to look at, but do I really want to bring one home with me? It's sort of the same with the Gober works. That Christ fountain sure was cool, but I'd hate to have to rip up the floor in our apartment to install it.
And on a completely unrelated note, I'm happy to report that a certain grad student I know has started blogging. Class, say hello to Michael.
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