H8

One more reason to love Shepard Fairey. As if we didn't already have enough.

Artists I like: Alexander Calder

Whenever I look at an Alexander Calder mobile, I think of balance. I think that's why I like him so much: his work makes plain this very precise exchange between parts of a whole. His mobiles feel delicate, almost temporal (even though they're not), that even my presence in the room is affecting the way the wires are moving, the way the pieces slowly turn. Participation.

On a recent trip to Washington DC (in my opinion, the land of art, art everywhere) I was fortunate enough to spend two full days museum hopping and I was able to see Calder's work a few different times. The first was a delightful surprise in the Hirshorn. I hadn't done any research to see what the museums were showing or what their permanent collections were like. I'd never been to DC before. I simply went and decided to see what I would see. When I stumbled into a room with a few of his mobiles, I'm pretty sure I made an audible squeal of job. And then I sat there with a huge grin on my face, looking like an idiot. Mobiles will do that to me.

And then again I stumbled upon him again, this time in the National Gallery's sculpture garden.
Calder is maybe known even better for his non-mobile sculptures, which are often red, white, or black and look very much like the one picture below, installed in the sculpture garden at the National Gallery. These pieces are a very different experience for me than his mobiles. This is not temporal or delicate--I do not feel as though I have any influence on the piece. Although, I can't quite pin this one down. The sculpture is entitled "Red Horse" and while it certainly appears red, there is not much horse-like about it. But then again, maybe there is. The legs taper down into--well, if nothing else, perhaps hoofs. And the neck(s)? reaching up tall and strong. These pieces I find appealing for different reasons. They're ambiguous, resisting definition and classification. What is it, my mind wants to know right away. Into what category can I file this thing? And there is no easy file in which to store it.







Check out a slideshow of his work at the Whitney.

headlines

I'm sure that by now you've seen what I think to be a brilliant invention that should've come to be much sooner. If you haven't experienced this moment of bliss yet, check it out here.

A fake newspaper's a fake newspaper (I'm pretty sure I made one in 5th grade), but this one not only made me laugh, but gave me hope. That people in this country care enough to put together a comprehensive, in-depth commentary on our country's current situation (grammar nitpicking aside) and then stood on the streets of New York to diseminate it makes me proud. In the way that John Stewart makes me proud. Amid this Proposition 8 madness, I've found it hard to be proud of my country.

What struck me even more than this, though, were today's headlines in the real New York Times (yeah, remember that paper?). Here are the highlights:

Gay Marriage Begins in Connecticut

The Return of the Interview Suit (!!!)*

AIDS Patient is Reported Cured (I'm not kidding).


* exclamation marks are my addition

Don't get me wrong: there are a lot of headlines you'd rather not see. There are more headlines about kids shooting people and civilians dying in Afghanistan and there not being any money (for anyone), but good things are happening in the world. Good things are happening all the time.

Americans are talking back, a historic election right behind us, and now peaceful protests will happen simultaneously on Saturday in over 80 cities in all 50 states to show the country (and mostly the Mormons) that discrimination is not ok.

I don't know where I was going with any of this. I even neglected to make any pretense of connecting this post to the topic of my blog (making a fake newspaper is art, right?). Whatever. I'll write about Andy Goldsworthy soon and you'll all forgive me. I promise.

a poem for today

who are you,little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window;at the gold


of november sunset

(and feeling :that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)


-e.e. cummings