Robert Boyd
So this thing is happening next week:
CounterCurrent14 from Mitchell Center for the Arts on Vimeo.
And you can see their schedule and featured performers on their website. It's weird that there would be two large scale performances festivals in Houston in a given year, much less within a month and a half of one another. But the Houston International Performance Biennale wrapped up in February (and was so packed with performances that this blog is still processing it--you can read about some of the performances here, here, here and here, and there are more posts to come).
The difference seems that HIPB was much more of a grassroots thing. While it had performers from out of town, a lot of it was all about the local performance art community. Also, there wasn't much in the way of social practice-oriented pieces at the HIPB.
CounterCurrent, on the other hand, is being run by the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Center for the Arts at the University of Houston. It appears to be much more professional and seems at first glance to be split more-or-less evenly between out-of-town artists and local artists, with a strong emphasis on artists associated with UH.
Which festival is the better festival? I guess it doesn't matter--having two festivals like these just gives us all more choices. (That said, part of me wants to see a performance art cage match between them.)
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Southern Fried
Robert Boyd
Jamal Cyrus, Texas Fried Tenor, November 29, 2012, performance
I saw Jamal Cyrus perform Texas Fried Tenor a couple of weeks ago at CAMH. I don't want to pretend that I "understood" it. For example, what did the pointing (above) have to do with the rest of it? But one part is clear--he deep-fried a saxophone and had the fryer miked so that we could hear the noise. It was, in a sense, a new way to play the sax. And the bizarreness of deep-frying a saxophone strikes me as a classically surreal juxtaposition. (You can go to the CAMH now and see the deep-fried saxophone on display.)
Jamal Cyrus, Texas Fried Tenor, November 29, 2012, performance
So that's all I was thinking when I left the performance. I didn't write about it until now because I wasn't sure what to write.
Last night, Jamal Cyrus was at the Art League talking about his mini-residency as part of Stacks, the multi-artist residency program curated by Robert Pruitt. Cyrus had created a variety of pieces, including this one:
Jamal Cyrus, piece made for Stacks, 2012, grits and plastic sheeting
The piece was made by splattering hot grits onto dark plastic sheet. Cyrus described the work as being inspired by the famous story of how in 1974 soul singer Al Green was attacked in his bathtub by a crazed ex-girlfriend. She threw a pot of boiling grits onto his back, went into a bedroom and shot herself dead. Green subsequently gave up the pop life and became a baptist minister.
What struck me about this new piece and Texas Fried Tenor is that that they both involve the combination of music and boiling hot food stuffs. It seems a little too specific to be coincidental, but then again, I don't see any other obvious connection between these two pieces., so maybe it is coincidental. But whether intentional or not, it's curious and makes me think on a Saturday morning, as I listen to Al Green croon a request to "dip me in the water" ("Take Me to the River," Al Green Explores Your Mind, 1974).
Jamal Cyrus, Texas Fried Tenor, November 29, 2012, performance
I saw Jamal Cyrus perform Texas Fried Tenor a couple of weeks ago at CAMH. I don't want to pretend that I "understood" it. For example, what did the pointing (above) have to do with the rest of it? But one part is clear--he deep-fried a saxophone and had the fryer miked so that we could hear the noise. It was, in a sense, a new way to play the sax. And the bizarreness of deep-frying a saxophone strikes me as a classically surreal juxtaposition. (You can go to the CAMH now and see the deep-fried saxophone on display.)
Jamal Cyrus, Texas Fried Tenor, November 29, 2012, performance
So that's all I was thinking when I left the performance. I didn't write about it until now because I wasn't sure what to write.
Last night, Jamal Cyrus was at the Art League talking about his mini-residency as part of Stacks, the multi-artist residency program curated by Robert Pruitt. Cyrus had created a variety of pieces, including this one:
Jamal Cyrus, piece made for Stacks, 2012, grits and plastic sheeting
The piece was made by splattering hot grits onto dark plastic sheet. Cyrus described the work as being inspired by the famous story of how in 1974 soul singer Al Green was attacked in his bathtub by a crazed ex-girlfriend. She threw a pot of boiling grits onto his back, went into a bedroom and shot herself dead. Green subsequently gave up the pop life and became a baptist minister.
What struck me about this new piece and Texas Fried Tenor is that that they both involve the combination of music and boiling hot food stuffs. It seems a little too specific to be coincidental, but then again, I don't see any other obvious connection between these two pieces., so maybe it is coincidental. But whether intentional or not, it's curious and makes me think on a Saturday morning, as I listen to Al Green croon a request to "dip me in the water" ("Take Me to the River," Al Green Explores Your Mind, 1974).
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Pan Video Parade
Robert Boyd
I took some video of The Stacks (at the Art League) opening performance, but it wasn't as good as this video.
I could have uploaded my video, but why not go straight to the source? That's Douglas Kearny speaking the eulogies, and the whole thing was put together by Robert Pruitt. This video is from a blog, Not That This. (I don't know who took the footage--if you are the videographer, let me know.) Not That This is a pretty cool blog. As a fellow blogger, I have two small suggestions. First, that the authors of Not That This try to post every day--it gives people something to look forward to. Second, they should always include tags with the blog posts--what WordPress calls categories--and the tags should be specific. This will help the posts show up when someone is searching for something that the blog has.
Aside from that, just keep on blogging!
I wrote about Trenton Doyle Hancock's new show at James Cohan Gallery in New York, and here is the man himself talking about it to ArtInfo.
I took some video of The Stacks (at the Art League) opening performance, but it wasn't as good as this video.
I could have uploaded my video, but why not go straight to the source? That's Douglas Kearny speaking the eulogies, and the whole thing was put together by Robert Pruitt. This video is from a blog, Not That This. (I don't know who took the footage--if you are the videographer, let me know.) Not That This is a pretty cool blog. As a fellow blogger, I have two small suggestions. First, that the authors of Not That This try to post every day--it gives people something to look forward to. Second, they should always include tags with the blog posts--what WordPress calls categories--and the tags should be specific. This will help the posts show up when someone is searching for something that the blog has.
Aside from that, just keep on blogging!
I wrote about Trenton Doyle Hancock's new show at James Cohan Gallery in New York, and here is the man himself talking about it to ArtInfo.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Like an artist in a punch bowl
Dean Liscum
When I went to Emily Sloan's Baby Ruth in a Swimming Pool at Darke Gallery, I expected a literal re-enactment of the Caddyshack movie's eponymous gag, which became a cultural meme long before a meme was anything but an esoteric term in evolutionary biology.
some of the many Darke Gallery diehards
When I arrived in the middle of the sweltering summer Saturday, I was impressed by the attendance. The crowd maintained a consistent size of about ten as people rotated in and out viewing, drinking a beer or a glass of chardonnay, eating a mini-Baby Ruth or two, and putting the two valets through their paces. And of course, there was Emily in the pool, which was not what I expected but what I should have expected.
Life-size floating dummy, Emily Sloan, or Both?
At first glance, I thought she'd constructed a life-size, human float. But upon closer inspection I realized...
...that the floating dummy was Emily, serene and silent, floating in the pool like a Baby Ruth in a swimming pool or a turd in a punch bowl.
Having attended other performance pieces of Sloan's such as the Nap Convention or Carrie Nation, I'd expected more interaction. I waited. There wasn't. After I thought about it, drinking beer and gnoshing on mini-Baby Ruths, I realized that she wasn't even the star of the performance. Fellow artist David McClain pointed out a Baby Ruth (or a shit that looked like one) that had sunk near the pool steps. I felt justified for now I had my literal interpretation/re-enactment. But then in light of the brown log, her roll became even less clear. Was she the protector of the Baby Ruth? Its doppelganger? Was she keeping it company? Was she communing with it? Was she saving it for later?
Sloan with mini-Baby Ruth balanced on her bosom by some asshole, a.k.a. me.
Another anomaly for a Sloan show was the role of the audience. Usually in her performances, the audience has a clearly defined participatory role. In Wash, we were washed. In Nap, we slept. In Carrie Nation, we were scolded for the degenerates that we were assumed to be (and probably were, it was after all at Notsuoh). In this performance, nada. Disoriented and without direction, I decided to define my own role and placed a mini-Baby Ruth on Sloan's chest.
Now, lying in the water, Sloan not only looked tranquil and cool, but she attained an art historical reference. Her position, costume, my prop, and the blue of the water resembled Matisse's cutouts, specifically Matisse's Icarus from his 1943 Jazz book.
Henri Matisse, Icarus, 1943
After I initiated interacting with Sloan, another attendee put pink sunglasses on her. Perhaps this was an act of charity. (It was sunny.) Perhaps, it was an act of gamesmanship (to one up me). Perhaps, it was an act of fashion. (The pink glasses did "pop" against the black outfit). Regardless, that only upped the ante. I couldn't leave well enough alone. I removed the wrapper from the candy bar. When I left, Sloan was in the following state.
On my mini-Baby Ruth-fueled drive home, I wondered about the purpose of the performance. Unlike most performances that I've seen/read about involving water, this one didn't equate water with life or rejuvenation. Rather, the water seemed to be a fluid in which a solid substance (one Baby Ruth candy bar or one female artist or both) was temporarily dispersed via agitation to create a suspension.
And so, I'm still waiting for the purpose of the piece to settle to the bottom of my mind.
When I went to Emily Sloan's Baby Ruth in a Swimming Pool at Darke Gallery, I expected a literal re-enactment of the Caddyshack movie's eponymous gag, which became a cultural meme long before a meme was anything but an esoteric term in evolutionary biology.
some of the many Darke Gallery diehards
When I arrived in the middle of the sweltering summer Saturday, I was impressed by the attendance. The crowd maintained a consistent size of about ten as people rotated in and out viewing, drinking a beer or a glass of chardonnay, eating a mini-Baby Ruth or two, and putting the two valets through their paces. And of course, there was Emily in the pool, which was not what I expected but what I should have expected.
Life-size floating dummy, Emily Sloan, or Both?
At first glance, I thought she'd constructed a life-size, human float. But upon closer inspection I realized...
...that the floating dummy was Emily, serene and silent, floating in the pool like a Baby Ruth in a swimming pool or a turd in a punch bowl.
Having attended other performance pieces of Sloan's such as the Nap Convention or Carrie Nation, I'd expected more interaction. I waited. There wasn't. After I thought about it, drinking beer and gnoshing on mini-Baby Ruths, I realized that she wasn't even the star of the performance. Fellow artist David McClain pointed out a Baby Ruth (or a shit that looked like one) that had sunk near the pool steps. I felt justified for now I had my literal interpretation/re-enactment. But then in light of the brown log, her roll became even less clear. Was she the protector of the Baby Ruth? Its doppelganger? Was she keeping it company? Was she communing with it? Was she saving it for later?
Sloan with mini-Baby Ruth balanced on her bosom by some asshole, a.k.a. me.
Another anomaly for a Sloan show was the role of the audience. Usually in her performances, the audience has a clearly defined participatory role. In Wash, we were washed. In Nap, we slept. In Carrie Nation, we were scolded for the degenerates that we were assumed to be (and probably were, it was after all at Notsuoh). In this performance, nada. Disoriented and without direction, I decided to define my own role and placed a mini-Baby Ruth on Sloan's chest.
Now, lying in the water, Sloan not only looked tranquil and cool, but she attained an art historical reference. Her position, costume, my prop, and the blue of the water resembled Matisse's cutouts, specifically Matisse's Icarus from his 1943 Jazz book.
Henri Matisse, Icarus, 1943
After I initiated interacting with Sloan, another attendee put pink sunglasses on her. Perhaps this was an act of charity. (It was sunny.) Perhaps, it was an act of gamesmanship (to one up me). Perhaps, it was an act of fashion. (The pink glasses did "pop" against the black outfit). Regardless, that only upped the ante. I couldn't leave well enough alone. I removed the wrapper from the candy bar. When I left, Sloan was in the following state.
On my mini-Baby Ruth-fueled drive home, I wondered about the purpose of the performance. Unlike most performances that I've seen/read about involving water, this one didn't equate water with life or rejuvenation. Rather, the water seemed to be a fluid in which a solid substance (one Baby Ruth candy bar or one female artist or both) was temporarily dispersed via agitation to create a suspension.
And so, I'm still waiting for the purpose of the piece to settle to the bottom of my mind.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Green Blob saves Cello Fury from Naked Tutus (NSFW)
Dean Liscum
In the dead center of summer in Houston, Tuesday's are dead. Monday's are even more livelier because it's industry night and you can buy drinks for you favorite bartender and s/he can remind you what a lousy tipper you are and how lame your game looks to the rest of the bar.
In the art world, they're even deader. So, when one of the members of Continuum forwarded a FB invite to Southmorehouse's event Naked Tu-Tu Tuesday #27. I glanced over the invite (excerpted below), reviewed my desolate social calendar, and clicked Join.
I also discounted the theme spelled out in the title due to three facts:
Members of Continuum re-enacting "Imponderabilia"
This performance greeted everyone who showed up to the audience participation training. I was perplexed by the choice before. I was also fully aware of the political-social-sexual implications that I was forced to ponder. So rather than make a decision, I made multiple decisions and passed between the performers sometimes facing the male, sometimes facing the female until, like a over indulgent child at a free carnival ride, I was asked to let someone else take a turn.
I was mostly worried about stepping on their toes with my boots.
I could have ridden that ride all night but someone threatened to get out the staple gun.
On the second floor, it was a pretty sparse crowd. Maybe 20 people, half of them naked Southmorehouse regulars wearing more smiles than tutus.
The remnants of the first performance was being cleaned up. It featured Christine Cook fully experiencing her cake and ending in what any foodie (or your id) would enviously label a "foodgasm."
Have your cake and wear it too (photo copied from southmorehouse FaceBook page)
photo by Hilary Scullane
Next on the agenda, Continuum members, Sway Youngston and Jonatan Lopez re-enacted another Abramovic\Ulay performance piece, Light/Dark. This work started with the two artists sitting cross-legged across from each other staring into each other's eyes.
boy sees girl Abramovic-style
They then took turns slapping each other, tit-for-tat or rather whap! for wham! as the blows resonated in the space.
slap and ...
(tongue) tickle
The exchange evolved or devolved into a wrestling embrace. Both performers remained seated, but managed to lock arms and hold-grapple-pull-twist each other climaxing in an embrace-kiss. For the denouement, they then re-established the separation and the slapping until the piece simply ended.
Continuum members varying interpretations of the naked tutu
After pondering that painful performance (a metaphor for relationships? romantic love? the life of an artist? Continuum dues?), the audience drank beer, took photos, and lamented the fact that Texas has 367 miles of coastline and one clothing optional beach, which is Hippie Hollow in Austin. (At this gathering, I observed that naked people talk about being naked and nakedness issues as opposed to the geopolitics such as the war in Syria or the economic crisis in Spain.)
Rosario and Rosalinda plead with artistically inept
Around 9 p.m. instructions for BalletSutra began. I was excited. After all, this piece inspired me to show. Not because it was entirely new (Lopez had previously performed YogaSutra), but because it aspired to make the inartistic (namely the inartistic me), artistic. I figured if they could turn me into a performance artist, who knows what other transformative powers their art might possess.
The piece began with an introduction of our teachers, Rosario and Rosalinda, who apparently hailed from some undisclosed latin american country or a Jorge Luis Borge short story. Rosario explained that we would perform this sutra in front of the band Cello Fury as they played one of their sets. Rosalinda explained that the philosophy of BalletSutra involves a "dominate" and a "submissive," which seemed a more accurate description than just having a lead and a whatever that other person is.
The R's then walked the participants through the 5 movements of BalletSutra. There was twirling, flapping, kneeling, and something like a pirouette. It felt like a cross between tango, two-step, and ballet, but mainly it was slow and deliberate and the intentionality gave it gravitas. We performed the 5 movements until it appeared that either we had mastered it or that if nothing else we were more likely to injury ourselves on an out-of-control spin than a member of Cello Fury.
Beware: BalletSutra in progress
Our instructors congratulated and dismissed us. Then we waited for the band and their fans to arrive. Neither of whom knew that a group of naked tutu-ists, newly schooled in the art of BalletSutra and eager to show off our mad skills, was awaiting them.
They arrived and their presence inspired some to frolic frenetically on stage and ...
all around it. The roadies looked a little flustered. Cello Fury's fans did some jaw dropping, but the stayed and everyone settled in. The opening act started playing and everyone relaxed...or at least relaxed as much as they could if you were at a family gathering and uncle Leo refused to put his pants on.
Then Cello Fury took the stage and began to play. BalletSutra did not commence. Turns out that Notsuoh's upstairs stage is not quite as big as the members of Continuum thought. So out of safety concerns and\or in deference to Cello Fury (who wasn't warned of\invited to\ approved of, or collaborate in the whole BalletSutra thang), Continuum called off the performance leaving several of its supporters dressed in tutus, primed for dominance and/or submission, and without an expressive or creative outlet for their 5 new dance moves.
So Cello Fury jammed on (in a similar fashion to the video but this is not the performance), encouraging audience members to dance, and some did. But, no one BalletSutra'd as they boogied.
Meanwhile, 4 members of Continuum regrouped in a space next to the crowd and performed the "Green Blob." This performance consisted of a constantly moving, changing amorphous mass of green humanity.
Faces, feet, hands, and haunches protruded and then receded from the giant green organism as it slithered, shivered, and undulated across the floor. I was mesmerized as my mind tried to identify the creative anatomies that were limned in green. How could a thumb-nose-hip be in that configuration? And before I could puzzle out the pose another emerged.
The piece lasted for several minutes until the exhausted members emerged to applause. The consensus among those who'd seen it performed at the Texas Contemporary Art Fair and Bar Boheme during Continuum's turn at Cultured Cocktails was that this performance was a 'great' Green Blob.
Continuum members and their supporters. What you looking at Willis?
I left the evening tutu'd, artistically un-transformed, but better for the experience.
In the dead center of summer in Houston, Tuesday's are dead. Monday's are even more livelier because it's industry night and you can buy drinks for you favorite bartender and s/he can remind you what a lousy tipper you are and how lame your game looks to the rest of the bar.
In the art world, they're even deader. So, when one of the members of Continuum forwarded a FB invite to Southmorehouse's event Naked Tu-Tu Tuesday #27. I glanced over the invite (excerpted below), reviewed my desolate social calendar, and clicked Join.
The phrase that caught my attention (and inspired my attendance) was "audience participatory performance art featuring Cello Fury." What the hell, I thought. I like Cello Fury's music, and even though I've never participated in a performance art piece before, I figured that I could undulate to the rhythm in a way that would make my white boy ancestors proud or at least play the equivalent of a performance art landscape prop.This is a ballet themed NT so bring your naked self and your Tutus to Notsuoh on Tuesday July 31st for an evening of ballet, music, and audience participatory performance art featuring Cello Fury from Pittsburg, PA (that does not mean "Prince Albert", folks) and Continuum, a local Houston performance art troupe (who will also lead a movement workshop).To get such a sweet spot we have already volunteered to do an exhibitionist improv and definitely goofy dance routine while they play. Just kidding - maybe...
I also discounted the theme spelled out in the title due to three facts:
- The invitation included the following disclaimer: "...There will be lots of people wearing clothes. Please, no pressure on them. The idea of NT is to make everyone comfortable with whatever their choice of attire."
- Although we're not technically in the Bible Belt, we are below it. Even though the dirty south may be on the down low, we don't admit those kind of things or show them in public.
- And finally, I took the line "PA (that does not mean 'Prince Albert'...), as an implicit guarantee that come what may, I wouldn't have my frenulum staple-gunned to my thigh. (At a place like Notsuoh, it's a good guarantee to have.)
Members of Continuum re-enacting "Imponderabilia"
This performance greeted everyone who showed up to the audience participation training. I was perplexed by the choice before. I was also fully aware of the political-social-sexual implications that I was forced to ponder. So rather than make a decision, I made multiple decisions and passed between the performers sometimes facing the male, sometimes facing the female until, like a over indulgent child at a free carnival ride, I was asked to let someone else take a turn.
I was mostly worried about stepping on their toes with my boots.
I could have ridden that ride all night but someone threatened to get out the staple gun.
On the second floor, it was a pretty sparse crowd. Maybe 20 people, half of them naked Southmorehouse regulars wearing more smiles than tutus.
The remnants of the first performance was being cleaned up. It featured Christine Cook fully experiencing her cake and ending in what any foodie (or your id) would enviously label a "foodgasm."
Have your cake and wear it too (photo copied from southmorehouse FaceBook page)
photo by Hilary Scullane
Next on the agenda, Continuum members, Sway Youngston and Jonatan Lopez re-enacted another Abramovic\Ulay performance piece, Light/Dark. This work started with the two artists sitting cross-legged across from each other staring into each other's eyes.
boy sees girl Abramovic-style
They then took turns slapping each other, tit-for-tat or rather whap! for wham! as the blows resonated in the space.
slap and ...
(tongue) tickle
The exchange evolved or devolved into a wrestling embrace. Both performers remained seated, but managed to lock arms and hold-grapple-pull-twist each other climaxing in an embrace-kiss. For the denouement, they then re-established the separation and the slapping until the piece simply ended.
Continuum members varying interpretations of the naked tutu
After pondering that painful performance (a metaphor for relationships? romantic love? the life of an artist? Continuum dues?), the audience drank beer, took photos, and lamented the fact that Texas has 367 miles of coastline and one clothing optional beach, which is Hippie Hollow in Austin. (At this gathering, I observed that naked people talk about being naked and nakedness issues as opposed to the geopolitics such as the war in Syria or the economic crisis in Spain.)
Rosario and Rosalinda plead with artistically inept
Around 9 p.m. instructions for BalletSutra began. I was excited. After all, this piece inspired me to show. Not because it was entirely new (Lopez had previously performed YogaSutra), but because it aspired to make the inartistic (namely the inartistic me), artistic. I figured if they could turn me into a performance artist, who knows what other transformative powers their art might possess.
The piece began with an introduction of our teachers, Rosario and Rosalinda, who apparently hailed from some undisclosed latin american country or a Jorge Luis Borge short story. Rosario explained that we would perform this sutra in front of the band Cello Fury as they played one of their sets. Rosalinda explained that the philosophy of BalletSutra involves a "dominate" and a "submissive," which seemed a more accurate description than just having a lead and a whatever that other person is.
The R's then walked the participants through the 5 movements of BalletSutra. There was twirling, flapping, kneeling, and something like a pirouette. It felt like a cross between tango, two-step, and ballet, but mainly it was slow and deliberate and the intentionality gave it gravitas. We performed the 5 movements until it appeared that either we had mastered it or that if nothing else we were more likely to injury ourselves on an out-of-control spin than a member of Cello Fury.
Beware: BalletSutra in progress
Our instructors congratulated and dismissed us. Then we waited for the band and their fans to arrive. Neither of whom knew that a group of naked tutu-ists, newly schooled in the art of BalletSutra and eager to show off our mad skills, was awaiting them.
They arrived and their presence inspired some to frolic frenetically on stage and ...
all around it. The roadies looked a little flustered. Cello Fury's fans did some jaw dropping, but the stayed and everyone settled in. The opening act started playing and everyone relaxed...or at least relaxed as much as they could if you were at a family gathering and uncle Leo refused to put his pants on.
Then Cello Fury took the stage and began to play. BalletSutra did not commence. Turns out that Notsuoh's upstairs stage is not quite as big as the members of Continuum thought. So out of safety concerns and\or in deference to Cello Fury (who wasn't warned of\invited to\ approved of, or collaborate in the whole BalletSutra thang), Continuum called off the performance leaving several of its supporters dressed in tutus, primed for dominance and/or submission, and without an expressive or creative outlet for their 5 new dance moves.
So Cello Fury jammed on (in a similar fashion to the video but this is not the performance), encouraging audience members to dance, and some did. But, no one BalletSutra'd as they boogied.
Meanwhile, 4 members of Continuum regrouped in a space next to the crowd and performed the "Green Blob." This performance consisted of a constantly moving, changing amorphous mass of green humanity.
Faces, feet, hands, and haunches protruded and then receded from the giant green organism as it slithered, shivered, and undulated across the floor. I was mesmerized as my mind tried to identify the creative anatomies that were limned in green. How could a thumb-nose-hip be in that configuration? And before I could puzzle out the pose another emerged.
The piece lasted for several minutes until the exhausted members emerged to applause. The consensus among those who'd seen it performed at the Texas Contemporary Art Fair and Bar Boheme during Continuum's turn at Cultured Cocktails was that this performance was a 'great' Green Blob.
Continuum members and their supporters. What you looking at Willis?
I left the evening tutu'd, artistically un-transformed, but better for the experience.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Slow Time with The Bridge Club
Robert Boyd
The Bridge Club made their second appearance in Houston at Art Palace on August 4 with a performance called Medium. Each member of the collective (Annie Strader, Christine Owen, Emily Bivens and Julie Wills) was sitting on a chair mounted eight feet above the floor. There they sat for two hours, doing very little or nothing at all. Quiet trancey music played in the background. Every voice or footstep of the audience members, who wandered in and out of the performance, seemed amplified. The Bridge Club never acknowledged the audience. Like Natural Resources, which they performed at Lawndale last year, Medium seemed to exist in a different, slower time stream than the one the rest of us are in. It made me think the reason they don't acknowledge us is they can't see us. We are so quick-moving compared to the glacial time-scale they inhabit that we seem like blurs to them. It seems like as good an explanation as any.
The Bridge Club made their second appearance in Houston at Art Palace on August 4 with a performance called Medium. Each member of the collective (Annie Strader, Christine Owen, Emily Bivens and Julie Wills) was sitting on a chair mounted eight feet above the floor. There they sat for two hours, doing very little or nothing at all. Quiet trancey music played in the background. Every voice or footstep of the audience members, who wandered in and out of the performance, seemed amplified. The Bridge Club never acknowledged the audience. Like Natural Resources, which they performed at Lawndale last year, Medium seemed to exist in a different, slower time stream than the one the rest of us are in. It made me think the reason they don't acknowledge us is they can't see us. We are so quick-moving compared to the glacial time-scale they inhabit that we seem like blurs to them. It seems like as good an explanation as any.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Drinking Tea, Petting Bunnies, and Stroking Unicorns
Dean Liscum
I've never been to either a transitional art opening or an afternoon tea. Having attended Afternoon Tea with Lisa Chow and Y.E. Torres at the Fresh Arts Gallery, I can now check both off my list along with petting an evil bunny, stroking a unicorn, and having impure thoughts about a pink Care Bear.
The premise of the tea was to serve as a second (or perhaps re-) opening of Chow and Torres' show "Once There Was, Once There Wasn't." It served to not merely introduce Y.E. Torres work into the two person show, but actually added them into the space. On July 14, 2012, Chow installed her work and decorated the space like she owned it--all fairy tale princess and pastel streamers. Her aesthetic reigned supreme. Two weeks later, Torres invaded her space. Rearranging the streamers, inserting her Bad Unicorn self among Chow's serenely fantastical works, and shifting the asethetic from the sublime to the sensual.
Both artist work in fantasy. Where Chow's works are archetypal fairy tale scenes of children and animals, Torres works are dank and earthy.
Lisa Chow's work getting f'd up by unicorns
Chow's figures are literally outlines of childhood. If I'm feeling analytic, I'd characterize them as idyllic and abstract. If I'm just feeling, I'd label them as faceless or anonymously menacing. Chow's explicit intent seems to be to invoke nostalgia about childhood through fantasy. However, the anonymous nature of the works gives them an unsettling, disquieting tone that informs nightmares of the same setting. Everything is idealized, but not in a good way. It lends itself to "pretty bunny, ouch that's not my bunny" experiences. Chow's works sweetness doesn't satisfy but unsettles because their world view is both perfectly rendered but lacking.
Torres dwells in a different, more sensual subdivision in fantasyland. Her conceits of the Evil Bunny and Bad Unicorn veer into the real, the sensual. Here creatures have toes and nipples and funk.
collage by Y. E. Torres
This bunny bites. This unicorn pokes. In Torres' world, not only women bleed. Beloved animals, the subjects of Chow's fairy tales, get fucked up. Their horns get broken off, and then their cute little heads get mounted on the wall.
Trophies or remains?
Nevertheless, the two artists aren't that different. Torres shouts what Chow whispers. We can allude to all things the passions and humors (sex drive, sensuality, fertility, etc.) through symbols such as bunnies, but we won't directly speak of them. In polite society, one puts on white gloves, drinks tea from cups of bone china, and giggles and snickers at each other's clever bunny banter. The less polite get a little more gritty but with similar symbols and euphemisms. Torres echoes Chow's sentiments, she just does it more stridently. She's peddling the same products as Chow: pets as symbols of intimacy, security, emotional fulfillment. With Torres' work, the fantasy becomes more adult-themed and the pets serve as stand-ins for pussies and penises, but these are nothing more than anthropomorphic symbols (and simplifications) of the same desires of Chow's characters. The urges, wants, needs, and cravings are categorically similar but their superficial targets change. The contrast in styles emphasizes the similarities between the two artists.
They can't even agree on the font for their signage
The Tea Party theme is a clever way to mash-up the two aesthetics. Chow's approach covered the High Tea\Little Girl Tea party. Torres brought in the Alice in Wonderland crowd. If you weren't sure which trope to take, there weren't any pills or cake to make you small or tall, but Texas Tea was provided to aid the decision making process.
Texas Tea, decision makers drink
Not knowing what to expect, I stepped out of the midday heat and into a menagerie: unicorns, bunnies, bears, women in tea dresses, and old-school freak flag fliers. A bowl by the bar containing packages of confetti and masks implored guests to "please wear a mask" as if to encourage "safe" fantasy\role playing. So, of course I did.
Crowd scene complete with Evil Bunny getting her drink on with blinged-out Care Bear
Unicorn horns
I got a drink and attempted to circumnavigate the exhibit, viewing the art and gawking at the guests.
Unframed works by Lisa Chow and grab bags by Y. E. Torres
I worried that this could be as flat as a Lone Star beer left out in the sun. My fear was unfounded. Chow and Torres and the folks at Fresh Arts\SpaceTaker did not fizzle out. Both artists dressed according to their aesthetic.
Y. E. Torres, scratch the bunny, and Evil Lisa Chow
Lisa Chow in a lovely tea dress
Friends of the artists and members of the performance arts group Continuum dressed up in costumes and got into character, so much so that I couldn't interview them because I don't speak unicorn or bunny. Journalistically frustrated, I did the next best thing. I stroked the unicorn and petted the bunny and categorized it as an artistic communion. (Law enforcement officials and the performance artists' loved ones may not have the same interpretation.)
A unicorn making a move on a pink Care Bear in high heels
Evil Bunny with bunny burgers (future tense)
The artists also convinced a local rabbit rancher to bring two of its hares. The rancher proudly proclaimed that he ate all the meat that he raised and that rabbit pellets made excellent fertilizer. Then, when Torres tried to hold one of the rabbits, it scratched her on the chest. Once it realized that she wasn't going to eat it, at least not right then, it chilled out.
photo boothin'
The party included a digital photo booth, which similar to the other accoutrements, blended the two aesthetics and their aficionados. Suits (or their summer time equivalents) flirted with fantastical creatures. Patrons posed with artists, and strangers took their Texas-Tea inspired turn at the photobooth.
Inner-species foreplay: Bad unicorn. Good horsey.
One too many rainbow treats
Evil Bunny ready to pounce.
The tea party concluded with Jo Bird of Two Star Symphony playing a piece on the toy piano and then two pieces on the viola. Her final piece was about a rabbit. At it's conclusion, she invited us to determine whether the rabbit lived or died.
Jo Bird Fiddin'
I couldn't tell for sure, but whatever happened to it in the end, it had a fun time getting there.
I've never been to either a transitional art opening or an afternoon tea. Having attended Afternoon Tea with Lisa Chow and Y.E. Torres at the Fresh Arts Gallery, I can now check both off my list along with petting an evil bunny, stroking a unicorn, and having impure thoughts about a pink Care Bear.
The premise of the tea was to serve as a second (or perhaps re-) opening of Chow and Torres' show "Once There Was, Once There Wasn't." It served to not merely introduce Y.E. Torres work into the two person show, but actually added them into the space. On July 14, 2012, Chow installed her work and decorated the space like she owned it--all fairy tale princess and pastel streamers. Her aesthetic reigned supreme. Two weeks later, Torres invaded her space. Rearranging the streamers, inserting her Bad Unicorn self among Chow's serenely fantastical works, and shifting the asethetic from the sublime to the sensual.
Both artist work in fantasy. Where Chow's works are archetypal fairy tale scenes of children and animals, Torres works are dank and earthy.
Lisa Chow's work getting f'd up by unicorns
Chow's figures are literally outlines of childhood. If I'm feeling analytic, I'd characterize them as idyllic and abstract. If I'm just feeling, I'd label them as faceless or anonymously menacing. Chow's explicit intent seems to be to invoke nostalgia about childhood through fantasy. However, the anonymous nature of the works gives them an unsettling, disquieting tone that informs nightmares of the same setting. Everything is idealized, but not in a good way. It lends itself to "pretty bunny, ouch that's not my bunny" experiences. Chow's works sweetness doesn't satisfy but unsettles because their world view is both perfectly rendered but lacking.
Torres dwells in a different, more sensual subdivision in fantasyland. Her conceits of the Evil Bunny and Bad Unicorn veer into the real, the sensual. Here creatures have toes and nipples and funk.
collage by Y. E. Torres
This bunny bites. This unicorn pokes. In Torres' world, not only women bleed. Beloved animals, the subjects of Chow's fairy tales, get fucked up. Their horns get broken off, and then their cute little heads get mounted on the wall.
Trophies or remains?
Nevertheless, the two artists aren't that different. Torres shouts what Chow whispers. We can allude to all things the passions and humors (sex drive, sensuality, fertility, etc.) through symbols such as bunnies, but we won't directly speak of them. In polite society, one puts on white gloves, drinks tea from cups of bone china, and giggles and snickers at each other's clever bunny banter. The less polite get a little more gritty but with similar symbols and euphemisms. Torres echoes Chow's sentiments, she just does it more stridently. She's peddling the same products as Chow: pets as symbols of intimacy, security, emotional fulfillment. With Torres' work, the fantasy becomes more adult-themed and the pets serve as stand-ins for pussies and penises, but these are nothing more than anthropomorphic symbols (and simplifications) of the same desires of Chow's characters. The urges, wants, needs, and cravings are categorically similar but their superficial targets change. The contrast in styles emphasizes the similarities between the two artists.
They can't even agree on the font for their signage
The Tea Party theme is a clever way to mash-up the two aesthetics. Chow's approach covered the High Tea\Little Girl Tea party. Torres brought in the Alice in Wonderland crowd. If you weren't sure which trope to take, there weren't any pills or cake to make you small or tall, but Texas Tea was provided to aid the decision making process.
Texas Tea, decision makers drink
Not knowing what to expect, I stepped out of the midday heat and into a menagerie: unicorns, bunnies, bears, women in tea dresses, and old-school freak flag fliers. A bowl by the bar containing packages of confetti and masks implored guests to "please wear a mask" as if to encourage "safe" fantasy\role playing. So, of course I did.
Crowd scene complete with Evil Bunny getting her drink on with blinged-out Care Bear
Unicorn horns
I got a drink and attempted to circumnavigate the exhibit, viewing the art and gawking at the guests.
Unframed works by Lisa Chow and grab bags by Y. E. Torres
I worried that this could be as flat as a Lone Star beer left out in the sun. My fear was unfounded. Chow and Torres and the folks at Fresh Arts\SpaceTaker did not fizzle out. Both artists dressed according to their aesthetic.
Y. E. Torres, scratch the bunny, and Evil Lisa Chow
Lisa Chow in a lovely tea dress
Friends of the artists and members of the performance arts group Continuum dressed up in costumes and got into character, so much so that I couldn't interview them because I don't speak unicorn or bunny. Journalistically frustrated, I did the next best thing. I stroked the unicorn and petted the bunny and categorized it as an artistic communion. (Law enforcement officials and the performance artists' loved ones may not have the same interpretation.)
A unicorn making a move on a pink Care Bear in high heels
Evil Bunny with bunny burgers (future tense)
The artists also convinced a local rabbit rancher to bring two of its hares. The rancher proudly proclaimed that he ate all the meat that he raised and that rabbit pellets made excellent fertilizer. Then, when Torres tried to hold one of the rabbits, it scratched her on the chest. Once it realized that she wasn't going to eat it, at least not right then, it chilled out.
photo boothin'
The party included a digital photo booth, which similar to the other accoutrements, blended the two aesthetics and their aficionados. Suits (or their summer time equivalents) flirted with fantastical creatures. Patrons posed with artists, and strangers took their Texas-Tea inspired turn at the photobooth.
Inner-species foreplay: Bad unicorn. Good horsey.
One too many rainbow treats
Evil Bunny ready to pounce.
The tea party concluded with Jo Bird of Two Star Symphony playing a piece on the toy piano and then two pieces on the viola. Her final piece was about a rabbit. At it's conclusion, she invited us to determine whether the rabbit lived or died.
Jo Bird Fiddin'
I couldn't tell for sure, but whatever happened to it in the end, it had a fun time getting there.
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