Kyle DeWoody
Monday
I began the week with a trip to an area of the city one rarely visits as a resident. The Zabludowicz collection was hosting a show in a beautifully raw space on the top floor of a Times Square office building. The views, which included the old Paramount building, the Chrysler building, and a collage of office windows from nearby, were out of Blade Runner. The first piece that caught my eye was by Nick van Woert, a fence covered with what looked like wax stalactites. In fact it was polyurethane adhesive, a material van Woert used in all his pieces on display. I loved the way it looked like an inactive, dripping material.
There was an active dripping material at the next show. Set up in a beautiful wood-planked room at The Standard was a living sculpture by artist Amelia Newton Whitelaw. It involved a large mass of dough suspended from the ceiling within a white net. As time went by the dough protruded through the holes in the net, creating a hive-like structure. That is, until the dough plopped through the hole of a parachute suspended cup-like below. When the first bit hit the floor, it felt like New Years, and the audience cheered. With a chunk gone, strings of dough hung with potential energy similar to the polyurethane of van Woert’s pieces.
At both shows there were, of course, other pieces of note. Olympia Scarry’s installation at The Standard made you weave through a series of punching bags in order to enter the gallery. I was tempted to give them a jab or two but decided that might not be prudent. At the Zabludowicz a friend, Ethan Breckenridge, had vitrines filled with cross-sections of banal office space – a section of standard cubicle wall, a boring plastic plant, a genius concept. Embarrassingly I didn’t realize they were Ethan’s until I ran into him on my way out. “Oh hey, what are you doing here? Oh right, of course…”
Other friends I ran into were video artist Michel Auder, gallerist Liz Kabler, creative real estate developer Alf Naman, and artist and film-maker Mary Jordan. Mary is developing a program to put art on water towers and in the process raise awareness of the massive water problems we have today, a subject I’m currently consumed by. Check it out at www.wordabovethestreet.org. Her chic alternative to buying bottled water: the flask.
Tuesday
Tuesday was another slow art day, as all the galleries I planned on visiting are not open on Tuesdays. I had a leisurely lunch with my friend Eric Adolfsen at Peels. Besides being an amazing graphic designer and illustrator, Eric is The Wooly’s creator. Located in the Woolworth building, The Wooly is a private bar (as some call it), which I helped design. We discussed future projects and enjoyed a tasty meal before heading around the corner to Salon Zurcher, Zurcher Studio’s independent fair hosting six other small, mostly Brooklyn-based galleries. There were some interesting pieces here and there, including Matt Bollinger’s drawings. We then headed down to The Wooly to take care of some business.
But that night it was back to art. I scurried uptown to the opening of The Art Show at the Park Avenue Armory. There I ran into friendly faces, including family, and saw some amazing pieces. My highlights: Mel Bochner’s Blah Blah Blah one-of-a-kind pieces at Lawrence Markey’s booth, Tom Friedman’s Small World, which was like a solar system of tiny items, and a cluster of great Fred Tomaselli’s at James Cohen’s booth. There was an amazing Cindy Sherman from 1990 at Skarstedt Gallery along with a very cool Richard Prince series and a beautiful George Condo.
Last were the amazing Rachel Whiteread sculptures at Luhring Augustine. Otherwise there was a bunch of blue chip work that passed quickly by. One catch-up of note was with gallery owner and children’s writer Jan Greenberg, who I have a special connection with, as she and her husband live in St. Louis, where I went to school. While I was there I had some lovely lunches at her beautiful house with an amazing collection. I also heard her speak about one of her books at the Contemporary Art Museum. She does the coolest thing of using children’s narratives to teach kids about artists. Her latest is Ballet for Martha: Making Appalachian Spring, which tells the story of how the ballet was created through the artistic collaboration of Martha Graham, Aaron Copland and Isamu Noguchi. It’s suggested for ages 7-10, but that won’t stop me from picking one up right away.
Next Joe Sheftel, art advisor and friend extraordinaire, and I headed to the fordproject opening a few blocks away to catch the tail end of what seemed to be a hot happening. It was. When we arrived I almost grabbed Chloe Sevigny as she looked liked a friend of mine from the back. Sorry, Chloe. Joe and I swerved our way through the hip crowd to catch a glimpse of the show before being shuffled back out the door. I had no time to take any snapshots but grabbed the show guide, from which I learned that the two haunting images of faces barely contrasting with their white background were by Miranda Lichtenstein, and that I somehow missed the work by my friend Liz Magic Laser. It was definitely a show where really seeing the art is not part of the opening experience.
Joe and I ended our night together back downtown at the lovely loft of artist and beautiful spirit Rob Wynne. Every year he hosts a dinner for his Parisian gallerist, Jean-Gabriel Mitterand, who I also adore. We ate a delicious meal prepared by Rob and his partner Charles while sitting among Rob’s beautiful pieces, including several of his striking glass texts. From Jean-Gabriel I learned not to miss Victoria Miro, White, and Lehmann Maupin at the Armory today, and that the young art student taking our coats at the door was the great-grandson of Henri Matisse, or maybe it was great, great grandson, but regardless from an important lineage of artists. Not bad.
