Consider this a temporary reprieve from another post about Hungarian art. For a change of pace and scenery, check out my belated video chronicaling my trip to the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, Georgia, its lukewarm exhibitions and its nice developing collection of contemporary art.
There’s more on Richard Misrach here.
And yes, exhibitions can be described as lukewarm…I just can’t think of another adjective right now…they’re all being used on this stupid attempt at a novel.
Stupid novel.
…huff…puff…sigh–repeat–huff…puff
Oh, is it time for Ravels in Review again? Great, well, in my disordered placement of life’s task I’ll put this on the top of the heap while simultaneously making coffee with one hand and juggling oranges with the other. Priorities are amazing things, no?
But to the ravels we’re reviewing:
Things were junking up the floor of MoMA’s atrium, ala Song Dong this time, and I started rethinking my Conceptual art prejudice.
Richard Misrach’s large-format photographs are either either calming or unsettling, and I rather think the latter.
Words straight from the art dealer Betty Parson‘s mouth.
Vanished poet Rosemary Tonks is one of the most exciting things I’ve come across in a while. She’s on my reading list for the weekend.
And then, of course, there was the beautifully-titled OUCH. My hand is fine, by the way. To sum up my thoughts on the newest film version of Easy Virtue–something went wrong when they tried to make it into a movie and Jessica Beil is only the obvious thing.
Stuff happened in other places, and yet no one had any suggestions for me about contemporary Hungarian art? Any links or vague, unformed thoughts?
I’ll get the ball rolling: these images are from Peter Forgacs multimedia installation Col Tempo at the Hungarian Pavilion at this year’s Venice Biennial.
I was trying to think of some calming art work, because somehow it’s only 10 am on a Wednesday and I’m stressed out.
I immediately thought back to the large-format photographs of Richard Misrach that I saw this past weekend at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. These large vistas of sea and surf take a god’s eye point of view that renders the undulations of the waves in perfect detail. His use of clear, glossy color behind reflective glass and imposing size lets you get swallowed up in a paradisical landscape. Initially I wished I was one of those tiny figures, like the speck on the left side of this detail of Untitled #586-04, floating in clear aqua waters.
Then I realized that the god’s eye point of view created an eiree sense of being alone and watched at the same time. I sensed Paradise could be ruptured at any moment. And then I decided I was much too much stressed for this early in the morning mid-week and went to make myself a cup of tea.
Untitled 642-02