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Early Fall: A day late, many dollas short (sorry Vince)
By Scott Speh
OK, so it's been
awhile. I have a bunch of excuses but excuses and a dollar fitty might
get you a cup of coffee these days. I've been, like, busy, okay? First,
there's always the job, the dreaded job. Since we last spoke, I traveled
intensively through the great state of Iowa for two weeks, then Green
Bay for a week, an unconscionably boring week in South Bend and then two
weeks my home state of Ohio. Extra-curricular activities outside of the
job included many weddings, installing Pedro
Velez' show in my house, the
Stray Show in May, my last ever art show in the Twin
Cities, shortly thereafter, the gripping season finale of 24,
American Idol, my little sister's graduation, the Dan
Attoe show in a temporary Western Exhibitions loft space in Chicago's
near south side. Whew! Thought I wasn't going to list my excuses. Whatever.
And another thing...it's harder to write this column. In NYC, I could
see hundreds of shows in a week and be downright mean in my assesments.
Hell, I didn't know any of these artists or dealers personally. Here in
Chicago, I can see maybe a dozen shows a month and I know most of these
folks and it's hard, you know, to be mean to my friends. Call me a sell-out
and I'll agree. But I gotta live here. So this column probably isn't as
interesting as it was maybe 18 months ago. But whatever, it's free.
I've seen a lot shows
between January and now (editor's note -- "now" meaning then.
I wrote most of this in July, therefore late summer and early fall shows
are unfortunately NOT included. They might be soon. For now see my Top
Ten at the Other Group).
Don't know how in-depth I'll go into each of them, but we'll start with
a relatively lengthy examination of Sterling Ruby's show at 1R this spring
and devolve from there.
Free Association Always Ends Up With Pelvic Mirroring
West Loop, Chicago
So Sterling Ruby's
solo show at 1R Gallery in Chicago is best described as CHEEKY! I mean
this in all the best connotations. It's fresh (both that it looks new
and is kind of brash) and has kind of an F-you feel, yet avoiding direct
I'm not quite sure
what any of this work is really about but damn it looks good. The large
prints have a freshness and verve of imagery that transcends, for me anyway,
any specific didacticism. The press release and descriptions of Ruby's
work use a lot of theoretical sounding words and rhetoric, which is fine
if you're into that sort of thing. I found this on 1R's website - "Ruby
is expanding the domain of the readymade to the dimension of time, drawing
ties through temporal as well as spatial parameters." I don't want
to sound too anti-intellectual (sorry Lane Relyea, count me in with Saltz,
Schejdal etal, I respond to art from the gut. You can have your "rigor")
but I have no idea what that means.
So I'll avoid that
mumbo-jumbo in favor of the visceral visual pleasure that these prints
provide. They're collages, sometimes born out of photo documentation of
previous sculptures. These images, a crude plaster pelvis, a tree stump,
are juxtaposed with subtle icky texture, like the reticulated skin of
day-old soup and overlaid with evocative, semi-provocative text. The text
is scrawled in a style that splits the difference between crude spraypaint
and children's finger-paint. Yes, I'm aware is probably made with Photoshop's
spray can with, 75% transparency, but it looks so good I'll ignore the
relative simplicity of the technique.
My favorite might have been the color photo of tree trunks that looks
like a blown up snapshot, complete with the harshness of the flash. A
creepy texture, much like the reticulated soup skin mentioned above seeps
in from the top corner and the phrase "I SEE THROUGH YOU" is
scrawled across the image. The whole thing has this Blair Witch vibe and
I like that I can see through the text (remember the transparency) that
is announcing that it can see through me. Then there's this other photo
of what looks like ape or some animal form peering from behind a blurry
tree trunk. Some random ceiling or floor tile is collaged in the middle
of the image. The text here, scribbled on the right half of the image,
is a more antagonistic: "DISSEMINATE, YOU FUCK." Two prints
paired with one another have an iconic feel and could be appropriated
for a gay pride float: one is a rumpled bed positioned in the lower quarter
of the image atop circular rainbow bands of color, the other featured
similar circular rainbow, this time with a tree trunk sculpted into a
chair occupying the center of the rainbow target.
The title of the
show is "Free Association always ends up with pelvic mirroring."
Again, I have no idea what that means. Maybe it's some phrase I'm unfamiliar
with - if so, I apologize for my ignorance. I hope Ruby came up with himself.
It's a strange phrase. I know what the words mean individually. Perhaps,
probably (or like, duh) it's about sex. Commingling of the species leads
to the joining of the hips, maybe. Or in Footloose terms, dancing
is the vertical expression of the desire to get horizontal. That phrase
ain't the only sexual reference. Both videos address sex, among other
things. Just to right upon gallery entrance is a beat-up red pedestal
with two holes in it. It's a replication of a wall in a storage area of
some mega-retail store, like the kind you worked at during high school
if you were a middle class suburbanite like me. Atop this shitty pedestal,
rests a monitor. The wall, which the pedestal replicates, is the protagonist
in the video. It plays surveillance of two employees stashing stolen product
through two holes in said wall. The tape is looped so we see a female
employee continually, in slow motion, jamming her arms through the holes.
If you're into fisting, you'll be into this video. And the soundtrack
is appropriately spooky.
The other video across
the gallery shows two hands trying to stuff a squeaky, phallic dog toy
into a crude, vaguely pelvic shaped ceramic sculpture. The toy keeps squeaking
and it only grudgingly, with a ton of effort, enters the orifices of the
sculpture. If you like unlubricated anal sex, here's the art video for
This is a creepy,
disturbing, handsome, professional and satisfying show, which if shown
in New York or L.A., might have propelled Ruby into stardom. But it was
shown in Chicago and nobody outside of Chicago cares what happens here.
And few who are here care as well. Good thing he's moving to L.A.
West Loop, Chicago
This show engendered a wealth of commentary on the Chicago art scene list
serve, The Other Group, concerning
a lot of hoo-hah about authorship and authenticity. I liked this show
because there was a lot to look at. That's it.
Ukranian Institute of Modern Art
Ukrainian Village, Chicago
There was also a lot to look at in this show of endless, modest drawings,
that were almost always unframed and thumbtacked to the wall. This seems
to be a major, major trend of younger and/or emerging artists these days
- the modest, funky, post-minimal drawing. This is fine. A lot of these
drawings were damn good - especially Paul Nudd's fecal, intestinal worms
and sexy nipples. But grouping all these drawings together does not necessarily
make for strength in numbers. It just makes them all look a little trendy
or faddish. I'm curious. Is this return to drawing a genuine, pure activity,
or a marketplace decision? I mean marketplace in two ways - 1) these modestly
scaled works are modestly priced and therefore easier to sell or 2) lots
of artists today can't afford big studios, or even studios at all (unless
they are trustafarians) nor can they afford expensive materials so they
are turning to more economical means of production. Not that I think this
is a bad thing. I'm just curious as to the whys of the surge in modest,
funky works on paper.
Julia Friedman Gallery
West Loop, Chicago
See, here's another drawing show. This one is a little different (not
for better or worse, just different) in that a majority of these artists
do drawings as their primary mode of expression and some these works were
ambitiously scaled and constructed. I love Jon Parot's mountains of cocaine.
His spiky white peaks on brightly hued construction paper, often peppered
with evocative song lyrics hearken back to those halcyon days of the late
seventies and early eighties, where everyone from Fleetwood Mac to your
mom were doing canyonloads of drugs. Oh, to romanticize those drug-addled
days. Not that I condone that or anything. I hate smoking but love, for
example, how David Lynch romanticizes, even eroticizes smoking in his
films, especially Wild at Heart. I just finished reading a biography
of Neil Young and it was shocking and just plain thrilling to read about
the copious amounts of drugs rockers did in the Seventies. They did all
the drugs so we don't have to. Sam Gordon also showed some wonderfully
trippy drawings that take stable geometric structures and mazes and then
freaks them with gold leaf, marbelizing and tie-dying. He fosters a powerful
tension between abstraction and representation, between straight-laced
Red Fever Green Fields
Franklin Arts Works
A recreation in cardboard, metal foil, styrofoam and vinyl of a scene
a farming village under attack from Apocalypse Now that reinforces
its artificiality (not that it needed much help seeming artificial considering
the materials) by constructing the element as if they were to be used
as props for a stage production. The whole artifice thing doesn't interest
me as much as, duh, the construction (frequent readers know I'm a sucker
for these materials) materials used along with one of my favorite movies.
Understated yet it commanded the space and though the artist used such
prosaic material and the source imagery is so violent, the installation
was exceedingly elegant.
Humboldt Park, Chicago
Julia Friedman Gallery
West Loop, Chicago
Fischer explores a most benign subject matter - curbs, highways, streetscapes
- the grassy knolls in median strips, the green space articulated by roadways
that now passes for most of landscape we urbanites actually see days.
She redeems this humble imagery with obsessively delicate ball-point pen,
graphite and silverpoint mark-making and exact, perfectly abstract compositions.
Gahlberg Gallery, College of DuPage
Glen Ellyn, IL
Scott elegantly transformed an awkward gallery space in the lobby of the
College of Dupage art building for an installation of trippy video work.
The first video, speeded up real time documentation of a rotting banana,
was exceedingly sad seeing this once ripe and vital banana succumbing
to the ravages of time. In the kaliedescopic office aerobics projection,
Wolniak sits at a desk in an unremarkable cubicle and performs simple
stretches and exercises. At the end of the set of exercises, the piece
loops and splits into four and then it repeats again, with the screen
splitting another 4 fold, so that eventually the image is increasingly
smaller and the video becomes a pulsating grid-like abstraction.
At MN, he built a
small, shoddily constructed rectangular pool in the center of the gallery.
Atop of two fairly pathetic fountains Wolniak placed plastic picnic drinking
cups, cut and splayed to look like flowers. They spun around haphzardly
and mined a territory somewhere between everyday epiphany and simple trash.
His video in this show was mind-bending. He placed a video camera on the
back of his bike, rode around Division and Western Streets and played
the video in reverse. It took a long time for my beer-addled brain to
figure it out. And I'm really not sure if I have.
THE NEW YORK SCHOOL
Thomas McCormick Gallery
West Loop, Chicago
OK, contemporary this was not. Neither was it cutting edge. And the work
by some of these modern masters was decidedly minor. But the work was
handsome and serious and I'm a bit of a sucker for AbEx. The Olitsky was
pretty hot, as was the Morris Louis. Jim Dine's work sucked, but what's
BUCHANAN, BUCHANAN, ROCKWELL, JOHNSON, NELSON, BESCH, BARTLEY, &
The funny is back
in UW's printmaking department. Despite UW's reactionary graduate school
printmaking curriculum, current grads are still continuing the Wisconsin
tradition of the ha-ha in printmedia. There were some hilarious and poignant
prints in this show but since I neglected to take notes, I forget who
made what and even what they looked like. But the best part of the show
was the card, which features a key to the show.
Little icons dressed up the title labels and this card helps you decipher
the code. The symbols helped the viewer more fully understand each work.
Here's some of symbols found on the card: irrational fear of the outside
world; found text used in a mocking way; done entirely in front of the
TV; artist hiding from professors; obsessive mark-making; imagined animal
pals; and long, lonely nights spent in the Humanities Building.
TBA Exhibition Space
River North, Chicago
materials - will I ever get tired of this stuff. Sauter's show was a subtle
riot. He carved out chunks of the drywall to create sculptures in the
gallery. I love the brashness of this act -"ok, wanna give me show?
Then let me tear up your walls."
Wicker Park, Chicago
Leave it to Law Office
to provide the best experience during the exhausting Art Chicago/ Stray
Show weekend. They turned their modest apartment in Wicker Park into a
swanky café. The Law Officers dressed as professional waiters -
black pants, crisp white shirt and tie tucked into their shirt four buttins
down, plus aprons. Vince looked esepcially hot. The joint looked classy
down to white linen tablecloths adorning each table and Davis/Langlois
paintings of pancakes on the wall. To remind you this was a Law Office
event, they served the maple syrup of out whiskey bottles. And the food
rocked - banana walnut pancakes, fruit salad, turkey sausage and mimosas.
Should they tire of this art thing, perhaps they'll opt for a breakfast
/ THE FLAMING LIPS
Suitable Gallery / the Riviera
Humboldt Park / Uptown
The first jarring
thing about Vince's show is its title: You're Still Under 30. What?!
No I'm not. Who is this addressed to? Me? Any and every viewer? Vince?
And is that supposed to be a good thing. Like, well, at least you're still
under 30 dude. I used to bemoan my age. Ok, I still like to whine about
being on the wrong side of 30. But it ain't so bad. You get needed perspective
and self-awareness as you get older. You learn to care less about fads
and trends. You start to figure out what's important. Although Vince may
still be under 30, this shows seems to say he's starting to figure out
what's important. This is a profound and moving show, tinged, no, not
tinged, immersed in sadness and death but it's hopeful and full of love.
The Flaming Lips
are full of love. They practically bursted with good vibes at the Riviera.
Their current direction is perhaps the opposite of Vince's. They start
with love and hope but tinge it with sadness. Actually they use a self-awareness
of one's own mortality as a motivator, to do good things, to tell people
you love them, to defend your honor and family. This was the most transcendant
experience I've ever had at a rock show. Full of low-fi FX and good cheer,
the Lips took the stage backed up by dozens of dancers, dressed in bunny
costumes or as Santa Claus, even Jesus Christ. Two separate gaggles of
plushies populated the sides of the stage and manned high powered flashlight
which they beamed into the rafter in pulstaing motions. Lead singer Wayne
Coyne every so often tossed handfuls of glitter into the audience. The
backing videos either featured half-naked women performing karate or clips
of late-night talk show hosts introducing the band. My favorite clip was
from the classic episode of Beverly Hills 90210 when the Lips played
at the Brandon and Kelly and Dylan and Steve and Brenda and Donna's prom.
Yay! Wayne Coyne's feel-good schtick could get tired and cheesy real fast
if he wasn't so damn committed to it. He celebrated Flaming Lips fans
as being the happiest crowd in rock, praising us for actually dancing
and smiling during the music. And the smiling was infectious. You'd have
to have a hard heart to not enjoy this show.
At Suitable, Vince
presented two objects: a headstone and a 1978 El Camino. (I apologize
-- this is unfinished, as of 9/19/03. I hope to finish it, someday)............
Dog Height / Nirvana Paintings
Gallery X, SAIC
So there's these brightly colored sculptures of cartoony dogs, made of
papier-mâché, standing in the gallery looking at paintings
that are hung at, yes, dog height. So there's where one half of the title
of the show comes from. These small paintings are portraits of cartoony
dogs, wearing t-shirts emblazoned with lyrics from Nirvana songs. The
walls are painted a play-doh-y brown and Nirvana music blares out of a
ratty jukebox. The paintings are pretty much cartoons themselves. The
sides are painted yellow and thick black lines replicate woodgrain. It's
a hilarious mish-mash, the strained, angst ridden, pissed off lyrics of
Mr. Cobain, with the deadpan cartoon dog portraits, viewed by silly cardboard
dog sculptures. Judging from Wenzels shittly drawn comics in SAIC's student
newspaper, one wouldn't be out of line wondering if he could pull of this
kind of bull-jive. But he does and he does it with craftsmanship, heaven
fucking forbid. I mean, it looks good, it looks right. All the elements
in this alternate dog-universe come together in perfect, unsettling, hilarious
Kill Yr Idols
West Loop, Chicago
Totally sweet (as in, this weed is sweeeet, dude!) show full of heroin
chic and icy-hot rock star and icons. Big drawings, stacked on top of
one another, dominated the right corner of the space. They start with
a black and white laser print of imagery that might be a video capture
from a rock and roll video and are then scribbled on with black ink, tempera
and erased with bleach. Images of the Velvet Underground, Joy Division
and the Cult mingled with cars, motorcycles and song lyrics and icons
like Val Kilmer and Twin Peak's Laura Palmer. A little like Jon Parot's
work, these drawings might be nostalgic for the sex-drugs-and-rock-and-roll
days this Gen X-er could've only read about. Jay also has this great video
that works on a ton of different levels. Level one is straightforward
- it's one long, yellow candle aflame, set just right of middle on a brown
ground. Could be setting a romantic mood, or a memento mori or a harbinger
of a hippie dream. Level two is if you are a contemporary art aficionado
as you should instantly recognize this as a video re-representation of
a Gerhard Richter painting. Level three is for rock and roll fans that
recognize this image as the album cover for Sonic Youth's iconic album,
Daydream Nation (also the title of the piece). I love that this
work can function as an in-joke with a number of constituencies while
also retaining power of the image itself.
TUNE IN TURN ON
GET OUT AND STAY OUT
Chuck Jones, Renee Gory, E.C. Brown
This is a killer of a grungy little show. And it's not really all that
little. Chuck's work dominated the upper gallery. Tons of multi-sized
paintings, mostly circular in shape on wooden panels that were priced
by size. Reasonable prices too! I bought a medium sized one for $60. Most
paintings are fairly described as amateurish, but it's a delightful, spiteful
and sometimes frightful degree of amateur. Cheap house paint, puff paint,
and glitter dominated - some works featured a strange horned blobby creature
that could be the Devil's slug, others were purely decorative abstraction,
mostly patterns and grids in glitter paint. Most paintings featured text
that was alternately conversational, stupid and/or antagonistic. And only
a few were as defiantly political as Chuck's signature work. Sure, he
had a grid of presidential posters with that Devil's slug graffitied over
their faces but the few overtly political text works were actually kind
a funny, like the one that said " Say Nuh to Wahr." They mostly
concerned themselves with rock and roll of the classic variant with phrases
like "For those about to rock, Thanks!" and the one I bought
"Hey, remember that song by Bad Company, "Feel like Makin' Love"
I love that song! It's super fucking awesome." Hey I DO remember
that and it IS super fucking awesome. I feel like making love too!
New York City
I went to the big apple in March and saw some stuff. This isn't really
a report because I didn't take any notes. Oh well. But here are some shows
that caught my eye and maybe some observations.
Dave Mueller at Murray Guy: Big funny blown-up re-representations
of email correspondence with Matthew Higgs, plus his signature re-creations
of exhibition cards.
Doug Wada at Elizabeth Dee: Photo-real depictions of dumpster,
vents and grates on bright white backgrounds. Straightforward and straight-laced
but pretty damn funny subject matter.
Maureen Gallace at 303: She's a painter's painter. Super-lush little
landscapes that easily and sexily slip into abstraction. The palate is
perhaps a tad too tasteful but I'd still be ecstatic to own one.
Donald Moffet at Marianne Boesky: A great idea poorly executed
- there's been a lot of talk about video replicating painting and Moffets
idea is to project video directly onto canvas. The shots are mostly still
- sections of Central Park that are prime cruising hotspots. But he painted
the canvas with shimmery golds or silvers that seriously diluted the visibilty
of the projected video. And the slightly chunky surface didn't do much
to conjoin both painting and video concerns.
Peter Rudolph at Derek Eller: Weird scratchings in india ink covered
canvases of alien figues, tetrahedronic figures, evil clowns, forests
The Armory Show highlights: the dramatic return of cocks and vaginas
in Sue William's paintings, James Hyde's return to funky deconstructed
abstractions, the Stars Wars scroll drawing at some Japanese gallery that
I was too stupid to write down either the artist or the gallery name,
Royal Art Lodge kids at Richard Heller, otherwise I was uninspired and
frankly, a little rushed so you don't get the exhaustive report that I
did last year.
BEVERAGE REPORT THREE
You like drinks, yes? I've tried two with surprising results. I'm giving
both Bacardi's O3 and Sprite's Remix the thumbs up. In fact they taste
quite similar - slightly fizzy carbonating with subtle fruit hints. Remix
has more berry accents and is quite refreshing. I wish they made a diet
version. Too much full-strength Sprite make me queasy and my teeth chattery.
O3 is much like Remix except that it's orangier and has booze in it. So
it'll get you where you want to be going. Maybe in February these drinks
won't taste so sweet but on a hot summer day, maybe down by the lake,
these two quaffs should do down easy.
SEE MORE ART
Log onto Chicagoart.net. Most
all of galleries use this service to announce their opening and events
and viewers like yourself can sign up for FREE to learn what's going on
in Chi-town's art scene. You can get messages from all member galleries
or you can tailor your account to get notices from just the spaces you
dig. On Thursday, you'll receive a digest of all the events of the upcoming
weekend. It's quite a deal and keeps you in the loop. Thus you'll have
even less excuses to miss shows. They aren't friendliest folks, at least
to me anyway. But hey, they run quite a nice and helpful service.
Readers who were alarmed by the copious amounts of TV that I consume should
be allayed that I'm hardly watching anything this summer. Yes, even despite
the clarion calls of "America's Top Model" and "For Love
or Money" I can hardly bear to turn it on to watch anything besides
the Daily Show, Insomniac (really, just about all of Comedy Central's
original programming is worth watching), Sex & the City (Rob
Livingston is a nice addition) and Letterman. I do want to complain, though,
about one tiny thing from this spring. I caught an episode of Friends
where Rachel Green, snooty, WASPy, princessy Rachel Green, was wearing
an MC5 shirt. There's no way. Sure, Jennifer Aniston would recognize the
street cred and cool quotient of a shirt from the White Panther loving,
bitch slappin' Motor City Five, but there's no way Rachel Green even knows
who in the hell they are. Rachel Green has John Mayer and Norah Jones
in her record collection. If she wants to rock out, maybe she has one
AC/DC disc that an old boyfriend gave her or if she needs to get her groove
on she could have some Missy or Jay-Z. She does live in New York after
2003 Mid-year singles report
Here's a list of hot songs that will duke it out for a place on my oh-so-hotly
anticipated year-end top ten list:
In da Club - 50 Cent
Hey Ya -- Outkast
Reignition (remix) - R. Kelly
Just Because - Jane's Addiction
Still Waiting - Sum 41
Honestly - Zwan
Take it off - the Donnas
Beautiful - Snoop Dogg
The Leaving Song Pt. 1 - AFI
The Seed 2.0 - the Roots with Cody Chestnutt
Where have all the rude boys gone - Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
Ride of a Black Swan - ZWAN
The Hardest Button to Button - the White Stripes
The Scientist - Coldplay
Going Under - Evanescence
Like a stone - Audioslave
Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers
Danger! High Voltage - Electric Six
Stacy's Mom - Fountains of Wayne
I Can - Nas
Where's the Love - Black Eyed Peas
Any one of Justin Timberlake singles
Beautiful -- Christina Aguilera
Move Your Feet -- Junior Senior
Me and Giuliani Down By the Schoolyard -- !!!
Amsterdam -- Guster
You gotta look
at these events in rock and roll history as shit, okay? Woodstock was
a big piece of shit, and there have been several pieces of shit all the
way down the line since the beginning of rock and roll.
The event is nothing.
It's what made the event happen - which is no longer where the event it.
The event is the leftovers. It happens so that the entity, the spirit,
or what made the shit happen can move on.
So all these events,
no matter what the hell they are, are nothing. What is meaningful is what
is left and gone beyond that. So all we have is people standing around
a pit of shit, looking at it. You wouldn't expect that shit to go back
and sit in the shit, would you?
Neil Young, from
Shakey, by Jimmy Donohugh
I wish that for
just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment
I could be you
Yes, I wish that
for just one time
You could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is
To see you
to this blather
2002 Year end lists, plus more malternatives, Chicago and NYC art
Premium malt beverages, rock and roll, movies, Chicago art, art criticism
A last gasp of art in NYC: grab a beer, this column is long --
My big move to the city of Big Shoulders, Jack Featherly, Su-en Wong,
Andrew WK, Lists, ShitBeGone and tons more....
Early Spring 2002
Lots o'Art: Richter, the Armory Show + tons o' gallery shows: Neo-Grunge
art, Paul Henry Ramirez, Type A and more on J-HOVA.
Valentine's Day 2002
Way too much info on my TV watching habits, plus Danielle Tegeder, Brad
Tucker and art in Boston and much, much more...
Best of 2001
Moulin Rouge, Mulholland Drive, Missy Elliot, Jay-Z, James Ensor, Wayne
Thiebaud, Radiohead, System of a Down redux
Thanksgiving from Hawaii
Serra, Pardo, Katz, Coen Brothers all suck. Grabner, Sienna, Prekop, Jay-Z
Early Fall 2001
The Onion, Rodney Graham, Jim Lambie, Larry King, Music Movie Sundays,
sucking up to Jerry Saltz and stuff...
Early Fall 2001
Skinny actresses, Fall Previews, Hair metal (again), and some other crap...
Chicago Art, Radiohead, Tony Kornheiser, another David E. Kelley rip and
Wane Thiebaud, Printmaking, movies, more summer shows and more...
Summer Shows, Paul McCarthy, Me, My Sister and more...
James Ensor, Ennui, Journey, New Art Examiner and more...
Late Winter 2001
Dawson's Creek, Jessica Stockholder, David Salle, Albums of the Year and
Early Winter 2000
riffs on rock-Roll Singles, the West Wing, Bernard Frieze and more...
The dirt on Damien Hirst, Jibangus, Cable TV and more...