It's a Sickness

Robert Boyd

Collecting, that is. C.K. Chesterton once wrote that there is little that separates a collector from a miser. Collectors are not nice people. But I can't stop! Here are a few recent acquisitions.



Ron Regé, Jr. drawing, 2 1/2 x 3 inches

I already have several drawings and comics pages by Ron Regé, Jr., so this just deepens the collection a little. As some of you know, Regé designed the logo for The Great God Pan Is Dead.


Ron Regé, Jr., Skibber Bee Bye page 4, 2000, 12 x 9 inches

Skibber Bee Bye is Regé's early masterpiece, a strange and at times disturbing graphic novel.


Cary Reeder, Storybook, 2013, 9 x 7 inches

Ever since I first saw Cary Reeder's house paintings in 2011, I've loved them. This tiny gouache was part of the Diverse Work's annual Luck of the Draw event.


Nic Nicosia, DW #2, 2013, 7 x 9 inches

This is the second Nic Nicosia I have gotten at the Luck of the Draw. It is a creepy and inexplicable image, which is why I like it.


Lisa Tan, The Temptation of St. Anthony by Hieronymus Bosch Drawn From Memory, 2013, 7 x 9 inches

I had no idea who Lisa Tan was when I got this piece at Luck of the Draw. I still don't, really, but this isn't the first piece she has made about good old Bosch. 


Raymond Pettibon, The Means to an End, 2000 , lithograph, hand colored by the artist, 24 in x 18 inches, edition of 20

This piece by one of my favorite artists was purchased at a Paddle 8 auction.

Anne J. Regan's Magical Music Art

by Robert Boyd

Anne J. Regan, Black Flag (Silent Painting Series), 2011, Guilford of Maine acoustic speaker fabric and wood

In 1978, Raymond Pettibon designed the logo for his brother Greg Ginn's band, Black Flag. The four dislocated black stripes were easy to reproduce and made for excellent graffiti tags. In 1980, Anne J. Regan was born. In 1982, Black Flag played at the U.H. Lawndale Art Annex. And in 2011, Regan replicated Pettibon's graphic using speaker fabric. And in 2012, she displayed the work at Lawndale Art Center as part of "Prospectors," a show consisting of work by the three artists in the Lawndale Artist Studio Program. Thus art and rock are intertwined over 34 years.

Black Flag show flyer

Regan's part in the "Prospectors" show is a music nerd's dream exhibit. I relate very strongly to this work. I'm the kind of person who doesn't just listen to a lot of music, but reads books about the bands and artists. What could be more nerdy? (Current music reading-- Tammy Wynette: Tragic Country Queen.) Anne Regan takes things even further. As she showed in her MFA exhibit, she is very willing to take pilgrimages to key sites in the history of American pop/folk music.She continues those pilgrimages for the pieces in this show.

Anne J. Regan, (clockwise from the left) Boll Weevil Blues, 2011-2012, cotton gathered in Mississippi along HWY 61 and beeswax encaustic on panel; Tumblin' Tumbleweed, 2012, tumbleweed and beeswax encaustic on panel; John and June Carter Cash, 2011-2012, grass and rocks gathered at Johnny and June Carter Cash's grave in Hendersonville, Tennessee, and beeswax encaustic on panel

Taking a pilgrimage is an act of magic. It suggests there is something magic about a particular place, and that the act of traveling to this particular place is by itself a significant, if not holy, act. And I think magic is a major theme in the work in this exhibit. There is a variety of ritual and magic here--some cargo-cult-like actions, some hoodoo, some good old table-raping seance stuff. And all of these actions strike me as symbolic of the immense power music has on us--which is kind of magic.

Anne J. Regan, Lightnin' Wand, 2011, oak and mahogany conductor's wand buried at Lightnin' Hopkins grave for seven days and seven nights

Lightnin' Wand resonates because of the furtive ritual that created it. Lightnin' Hopkins, a giant of blues music, is buried here in Houston at Forest Park cemetery (ironically located on Lawndale--just a few blocks from the original UH Lawndale Art Annex).

Lightnin' Hopkins' grave marker

I imagine Regan visiting the cemetery (which is huge) and glancing around to see if anyone was watching, then poking the wand into the dirt by Hopkins' grave marker. Then a week later, coming back, hoping and praying that no one has discovered the wand. She pulls it up and the ritual is complete. Does the wand now have magic powers? Can it bring down thunder and lightning like Thor's hammer? I doubt it, but it feels like a quite significant object now.

Anne J. Regan, Wall of Sound (Silent Painting Series), 2010-2012, beeswax encaustic on MDF exposed at concerts to soak up the energy. (Left to right, top to bottom) Chuck Berry, Neil Young, Daniel Johnston, Beach House, The Raveonettes, Wu-Tang Clan, Dan Sartain, Bun B, Frank Fairfield, PJ Harvey, The Magnetic Fields, Girls, Bob Dylan, Clipse, Best Coast, Leonard Cohen, Jack White, Bleached, Iggy Pop and the Stooges, Peaches

Likewise bringing rectangles of wax to a concert in order to "soak up the energy" seems like ritual magic--transmuting the sound into encaustic. Hence the title, the Silent Painting series. It's amusing that each painting looks identical, but each is distinguished by the knowledge that it was at a particular concert. And the fact that the earliest music recordings were made on wax cylinders connects this work to the very beginning of recorded popular music.

Anne J. Regan, I'll Meet You On the Other Shore, 2012, letters written to various musicians, photographs

In I'll Meet You On the Other Shore, Regan attempts to become a medium, communicating with the dead. Her method doesn't involve darkened rooms, holding hands, or trances. She employs the U.S. mail.

Anne J. Regan, I'll Meet You On the Other Shore (detail), 2012, letters written to various musicians, photographs

Each of her letters was sent to a dead musical figure. The way I interpret this piece is that the letters marked "RETURN TO SENDER" were not received by their ghostly addressees. But the ones she photographed that were not returned made it to that other shore. But the real power of the piece is the idea of writing down something you wanted to say but never could because the person you wanted to say it to was dead. Of course, the title comes from an old folk hymn. (The piece reminds me of a song--"Dancing With Joey Ramone" by Amy Rigby.)

Anne J. Regan, Mourning Sleeves, 2011, to sleeve titles in your record collection when a beloved musician passes

Regan understands how the death of a musician you love can affect you. The delicate black lace that symbolizes mourning strongly recalls work by Dario Robleto. Indeed, Regan's entire oeuvre seems very similar to Robleto's. (She's obviously less obsessive than Robleto, but who is?) This is not a criticism--I think there is room for more than one person to be working in this vein, and being first is no particular virtue outside of track and field and motor sports. What matters is the work. And the work has a lot of power.

Anne J. Regan, Billie's Fridge, everything from Billie Holiday's grocery list at the Alexander Hamilton Hotel in San Francisco, 1946, refrigerator, groceries

To a certain extent, we imitate our musical idols. But Regan takes this to a new level, buying everything on Billie Holiday's shopping list. This is what Lady Day was eating in 1946, near the peak of her career. This is imitation at the most intimate and banal. She isn't trying to look like Billie Holiday--she's trying to eat like Billie Holliday. But this could be magic too--the most powerful kind. "He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him."

I was simultaneously amused and moved by Regan's music-based art. I think it's hard for art to deal with music without becoming merely fannish. Jon Langford's portraits of his musical idols, for example,  are great, but they don't communicate much more than his own love of these musicians. I think Regan takes it a step further and suggests the strange power that music has over us with her objects full of ritual.


(Music listened to while writing this review: Traffic, Slowdrive, The Ramones, The Violent Femmes, Air, Ernest Tubb, Ian Gomm, John Doe, Alberto Iglesias, Orkestar Zirkonium, Jethro Tull, Legião Urbana, Elf Power, Shelagh McDonald, The Judy's, David Bowie, Bach, Badfinger, Titãs, Focus, Johnny Cash, Kurt Wagner and Amy Rigby)

Frieze New York part 2

by Robert Boyd

(Continued from Frieze New York part 1)

One thing that also spoke to the elitist, anti-democratic feel of Frieze was the lack of union workers. There were mixed reactions to this--after all, many art writers are outraged by Sotheby's lock-out of its unionized art handlers. It seems patently unfair for entities like Sotheby's that are so rich and profitable to reduce benefits for its workers. But at the same time, unions at convention centers and display halls are just one more monopoly (like Aramark or Freeman), and as such a total pain in the ass to deal with.

The snaking tent is a triumph of design, affording a blessing rare enough alas in museums and almost unheard-of in North American fairs: natural, diffuse, overhead light.  (This was perhaps a tad over-augmented the Sunday of my last visit with harsh artificial light to compensate for an overcast start to the day.)  The curved layout  avoids the oppressions of the grid so that as the viewer moves through the space there is a sense of progress, of arriving at a new bend in the curve.  Spaces are neat but individualized and sight lines nicely varied.  According to David Nolan of David Nolan Gallery, the organizers managed to “get rid of the politics” that is the art fair norm.  The management told him “not one gallery complained about placement.”  There is ample space between sections, booths are big, the floor is strictly a uniform, gray wood paneling – rather than the oppressive concrete, cheap carpeting and pretentious cacophony of individual booth flooring solutions that mar the fair going experience at convention centers and armories. And because they had struck out with their own temporary structure at Randall’s Island, Frieze didn’t have to work with the catering contracts and intransigent unions of these venues.  This meant invitations to top-notch eateries like The Fat Radish and the late Leo Castelli’s watering hole, Saint Ambrœus, and it meant relaxed, friendly staff.  The perceived remoteness of the location and the steep entrance fee of $40 meant an absence of crowds.  Exhibitors I spoke to do not regret the selected volume of attendees as it meant a more committed (read “likely to spend”) kind of viewer had a better time of it. ["On an Island in the River – Sunday in Randall’s Park with Frieze" by David Cohen, Artcritical, May 6, 2012]

David Cohen doesn't seem to have too much problem with the lack of union workers. Paddy Johnson is less accepting.

While we heard the few dealers who had in-booth lighting were pleased they didn’t have to wait four hours for a union guy to come screw in their lightbulbs, the fair’s ongoing labor dispute with the Carpenters Union stands out. While interviewed for an industry documentary, a press person hovered over me, ready to shut down any conversation that might include the labor dispute. Frieze should be ashamed. ["The Lowdown on Frieze New York" by Paddy Johnson, Art Fag City, May 4, 2012]

And Geraldine Visco suggested the location was chosen specifically to avoid unions.

I boarded the M35 bus at 125th Street and Lexington Avenue and arrived at the entrance to Frieze 10 minutes later. I was immediately assaulted by the vision of a giant rat and an assortment of union men standing around protesting the fact that Frieze wasn’t using union labor. In fact, I was told that by a staff member that Frieze specifically chose Randall’s Island so they wouldn’t have to hire union employees. ["Frieze Frame on Randall's Island" by Geraldine Visco, Hyperallergic,May 7, 2012]

But I have heard a slightly different story. First of all, apparently Frieze in London is in a tent like this in Regents Park. The number of locations in New York City where one can erect a mile-long tent must necessarily be limited. Also, the problem with having the show in an established convention venue is that you end up dealing with mediocre monopolists who have exclusive contracts with the venue. The union labor at a convention center is just one more crappy monopoly that you are forced to deal with. As someone who has gone to a lot of conventions and dealt with these companies, I can relate.As far as I'm concerned, at a trade show (or an art fair), the union is the same as Aramark which is the same as Freeman--a provider of mediocre service that you are forced as an exhibitor to use. I don't blame Frieze for working around that.

Anyway, let's look at some more art:



Adam McEwen, Water Cooler, 2012, graphite at art:concept

Adam McEwen's Water Cooler could be used as a giant pencil in a pinch.


Angela Bulloch, Casa Diablo, 2012 at Esther Schipper

My friend Paul was amused by this piece by Angela Bulloch because, as he put it, he likes it when the politically correct is combined with the politically incorrect. And he added that it would have been even funnier if bicycles were somehow involved. (Vegan strippers who commute via fixed-gear bikes?)


Jennifer Rubell, Lysa I, mixed media, 2012 at Breeder Gallery



Jennifer Rubell, Lysa I, mixed media, 2012 at Breeder Gallery

Speaking of politically incorrect, this sex-mannequin nutcracker by Jennifer Rubell was astonishingly crass. It belonged at Pulse, which seemed to be full of work like this. This strikes me as one of your "have your cake and eat it" pieces. It is a degrading image of a woman, but that's OK because it's also about sexism and objectification! I'm sorry, but I ain't buying it. It seemed much less a comment about anything than a decadent object for rich people. Plenty of visitors were willing to use the nutcracker--you can see the shells beneath the crotch. I was a little too creeped out to use it, personally.



Amanda Ross, Time Waits for No One, 2011 at Sfeir-Semler

The perfect artwork for all needlepoint/Rolling Stones fans.


Walead Beshty, Fedex Tube c2005 FEDEX 139752 REV 10/05 SSCC shipping TBD. Los Angeles-city TBD trek# TBD. date TBD. 2011, 2009-, at Regen Projects

If you have ever had to ship posters, you probably used this weird-shaped Fedex box. It's their mailing tube box. What Walead Beshty did was to ship laminated glass designed to fit exactly in the box. The random breakages caused by the handling creates the unique prism-shaped sculpture at the end of the shipping process. But my question is, do you display the box as well, or just the glass? The glass by itself is an intriguing, pretty sculpture. But displayed with the box, it becomes a documentation of a process.


Tom Sachs, Saturn V (painted version), 2011, bronze, plywood base at Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac

Tom Sachs is apparently really into space travel.


Thomas Struth at Galerie Rüdiger Schöttle


Steven Shearer, Poems, charcoal on rag paper at Modern Art

It seems that Steven Shearer has some stuff to work out.


Sophie Calle, "Des journées entières sous le signe du B, du C, du W. BB", 1998 at Galerie Perrotin


Ryan McLaughlin at Lüttgenmeijer

My photo doesn't do it justice, but I thought the paintings of food by Ryan McLaughlin had a real joie de vivre.


Raymond Pettibon at Regen Projects


Raymond Pettibon at Regen Projects

Along with Sean Landers, Raymond Pettibon held down the "scary clown art" position at the fair.

(Continued in Frieze New York part 3)

Mark Flood at Cardoza Gallery

by Robert Boyd

Mark Flood, Another Painting, fluorescent paint

Mark Flood dares you approach his art the same way you approach other art. I have to refrain from being sarcastic and nasty, and I have to treat his lifetime of games as an artistic strategy rather than a big "fuck you" to art and everything else. And that's not easy.

Just constructing a biography of Flood is a challenge. Any of the following statements may or may not be true. Mark Flood was born in Houston in 1957. He went to Rice University. I suspect "Mark Flood" is his real name because there is a Mark Flood in the Rice alumni directory as a member of the class of 1980. The directory says he has "no degree." In 1980, he formed the quasi-industrial punk band Culturcide. At this time, he went by the name Perry Webb. Their first single was called "Consider Museums as Concentration Camps." That kind of sets the tone for Flood's entire career. You can buy their albums on iTunes--except the notorious Tacky Souvenirs of Pre-Revolutionary America--and album that had Flood singing over various pop songs like "Billie Jean" and "We Are the World" with nasty new lyrics. Instead of sampling bits of the songs, they just used the whole song, layering vocals and industrial sounds on top.

In the meantime, he started showing his art, initially around Houston (including several times at Diverse Works in the 80s) and by 1991 in New York. By the 2000s, most of his exhibits were in commercial galleries outside Houston. In 2006, "Clark Flood" started writing a column for Glasstire. His scabrous attacks on every art institution in Houston (including Diverse Works) and Houston's art scene displayed a real bitterness toward his hometown. As far as I can tell, his column made some sensitive, humorless, thin-skinned people pretty angry. I thought they were funny. I see them as an extended flipping of the bird to Houston, which was nothing new for Flood--check out "Houston Lawman" by Culturcide.

This is not to say he loves the rest of the art world. Many of his works have been highly critical of that world, including "Landscape with Parasite" from this show.

Mark Flood, Landscape With Parasite, mixed media, 2011

Here is a detail (excuse the fuzziness):

Mark Flood, Landscape With Parasite (detail), mixed media, 2011

The message is thuddingly obvious. "Artists" who take workshops on how to make it in the New York art world are fucking phonies, while Henry Darger is authentic. Flood reiterates his idea of what it takes to make it in the New York art world in his song "Bitch Moves," which includes lines like "Tried to buy a copy of the rule book/Wandering through Chelsea looking for the right dick to suck/Working on an art career without any clues/Workin' on my Bitch Moves..." The thing is, compared to the average artist, Flood has been stunningly successful--galleries in New York, San Francisco, Berlin, etc.

Mark Flood, Visit the Whitney Biennial

This success is startling, especially given that lots of his paintings are just stenciled words, done as quickly and easily as possible. Sometimes the phrases are clever or ironic, but a lot of the time they are just banal or stupid. They look like the least amount of effort possible was put into them. They could be read as subverting the idea of what can be displayed as art, except that got subverted a long time ago. In any case, commercial galleries wouldn't continue showing Flood's work if there wasn't a market for at least some of it.

Mark Flood, large lace painting

This explains it. These paintings which use lace as part of their composition, are gorgeous. It seems like he paints a smooth flat gradient on the canvas, then puts a lacy stencil of some kind. The effect is psychedelic and hypnotizing. And I suspect that they are popular. Between 2001 and 2006, he did eight exhibits called "Lace Paintings."

Mark Flood, small lace painting

But no one gets away with making an abstract painting that is what it is and nothing else. Or to put it another way, I can't look at torn lace without thinking that it looks kind of rapey. There is a feminine association with lace and a masculine association with ripping stuff up. The psychedelic color schemes recall old rock posters from the 1960s--particularly those by Victor Moscoso. The combination of torn lace and 60s psychedelia could be read as an expression of betrayal--that the idealistic hopeful aspects of the 60s were a big fib and if you believed that peace and love bullshit, you were just setting yourself up to be raped by the powers that be. This brings us back around to Flood's roots. Think about what his contemporaries were doing while Culturecide was getting started--you had Hüsker Dü deconstructing "Eight Miles High" and Raymond Pettibon making movies like Weathermen 69 and The Book of Manson. As beautiful as the lace paintings are (and as far as I am concerned, that is the only justification needed for their existence), they seem like a dead end, rehashing a stance that seemed old already by the 90s.

Mark Flood, Learn More at Starbucks.com

So if you have read this far, it sounds like I'm pretty down on Mark Flood's art. The thing is, my gut reaction says just the opposite. I loved seeing this show. I was totally energized by it. In a way, it defies analysis. If you were an artist and you wanted to say "fuck you" to critics (and Flood wants to say "fuck you" to everyone), this is the best way to do it--make them love the work despite themselves. So just ignore everything I wrote above and see it.

Mark Flood, Like