In 1986, I threw this bowl with lid specially for Elvera Sunlight Beaudoin, because she cured me of a severe carpel Tunnel incursion. Extended rest after scar tissue surgery could not be an option because of my MS (multiple sclerosis). Acupuncture was not helping yet, but Sunlight's deep muscle treatment ended months of pain and discomfort.
At the time, I was at a throwing peak, and firings were miraculous, so it was easy to produce intrinsic work. Over the years, we've become fast friends. It wasn't surprising to find out that besides the artful, sensitive body work, she's a highly gifted and talented vocalist.
The red is perfect though the 2300 degree firing took only 55 minutes. Frank Ross of Pittsburgh taught me this fast fire design in 1973. It's uncanny, but ever since this surprising discovery in 1985, this is still an unacknowledged kiln. The Museum of Arts and Design New York has the first 55 minute tall jar and a similar small red bowl (no lid) in their permanent collection. Two similar tall jars are in the Marer collection at Scripps college and others are in private collections.
Sincerely, Michael Frimkess
Read more here (South Willard).
I bought this chair in 1952 or 1953. Carel Visser and I went to Rietveld's office on the Oude Gracht in Utrecht together to ask if we could each buy a chair. Rietveld sent us to his furniture maker Van de Gronekan in De Bilt to have them made. The price then was 80 guilders (about $45 US). —Wim Crouwel, 2012
Gerrit Thomas Rietveld
Studio Job Gallery, Antwerp
Opens October 11
Through January 11, 2013
Previously: this poster
Above: Karel Martens, Maquette for Printed Matter, Letterpress monoprint on thin board, 1996.
Tomorrow, 4pm: Karel Martens will discuss a half-century of printed experimentation. The Classroom, NYABF, MoMA PS1.
After lunch I went over to the Whitney. For some reason I wanted to see the biennial. I'm not sure why. Before checking it out I went up to the fifth floor. That's where they hang work that's in the permanent collection. I'm glad I did. There was gorgeous late fifties Lee Krasner painting hanging in a room of it's own. After staring, I walked down to the fourth floor and it looked like people were exercising on a huge black rubber matt that took up the entire floor. There were maybe fifteen people following the commands of a woman who was talking into a microphone... telling the fifteen people what to do. I think the fifteen people following the commands were people who had walked off the street. They kind of just "joined in". I've heard this type of activity in the art world is called "relational aesthetics"... or something like that... It felt like I was interrupting the "relation". I quickly got out of there. I walked down to the third floor and in the back there was a room filled with an artist's junk. There seems to be a room filled with an aritst's junk in every biennial I've ever been to. I'm not sure why this artist's junk was there. I walked around the corner and there were fifty Dana Shultz paintings on the wall. At least I think they were Shultz's paintings. (I walked by pretty fast). I skipped the second floor and went down to the lobby. What happened to the bookstore? There was none. There were some catalogues thrown out on tables that looked "remaindered"... what was there looked like a bake sale. I walked out of the Whitney having spent less than twenty minutes... fifteen of those standing in front of the Krasner.
From Richard Prince's "blog" (links added).
Patrick Ewing
After Game 7 of the 1994 Eastern Conference Finals.
Paul Pfeiffer
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
2001 or 2004
digital duralex print
She is at her best, however, when exploring communities closer to home: staking out local bodegas, immortalizing Philly characters like the South Street clothing store proprietor Benny Krass, or putting a face to the urban tragedy of Camden, N.J., just across the Delaware River from Philadelphia... In these shots, and in the series as a whole, the highway is as much of a divider as it is a thoroughfare. It isolates neighborhoods or splits them in two, a condition emphasized by Ms. Strauss’s careful attention to seams, scars and lines of demarcation... It’s fair to say that Ms. Strauss has accomplished more in the past decade than many artists do in a lifetime. With more gumption than wherewithal, she spun a single idea into a magnum opus.
Review: Philadelphia Stories (NY Times)
Zoe Strauss: Ten Years opens on Saturday and continues through April 22 at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
More: Saul Leiter (This Long Century)
Motown was down the street and they called me up asked if I wanted to do album covers, so I said I’ll send you an example. So, I sent them that ball of noise just to show my kind of disdain. I didn’t even know what it was at that time. It wasn’t anything. It was just a little record company down the street in an old house that said Hitsville, USA and I was a big time Detroit automotive advertising designer. I was too snobby to actually want to do anything for them. So I just sent them that ball of noise as a joke, just to end the whole thing. At the time I didn’t know what it was, nor did I care. It was just kid’s music and I was more interested in Jazz. I didn’t want to bother with this little shitty neighborhood record company that was just down the street from the building I worked in. I was just a snobby artist, even in high school. I wouldn’t be caught dead listening to Elvis Presley or any of that kind of stuff. Beatniks didn’t listen to pop music. Beatniks listened to Shostakovich and Coltrane. When I was in high school the big thing was beatniks and so beatniks were high culture. They weren’t pop culture. If you were a beatnik, you were a bohemian artist type, so you would be into Classical and Be Bop Jazz and then finally folk music, but very authentic stuff. I listened to that Harry Smith Anthology of American Folk Music.
From an interview with Ed Fella.
