Where High Gets Low.
More like “Democracy is scary.” (Photo by C-M.)
I am going to be so tricked out for Indecision ’08 now that I’ve got the Walker Art Center’s political art buttons (complete with obtuse slogans by Donald Judd and Joseph Beuys) in my hot little hands. Many thank to John Hoffoss in Minneapolis for taking the time and expense to send me the set. I will wear them pride. And a mild sense of hipster irony.
Also: I’m buried under deadlines. No Digest today.
xox, C.
But what does the backside look like? (Photo by San Suzie.)
Just off the Piazza Venezia, where the biggest, blingiest monument in all of Italy — the memorial to Vittorio Emanuele II, the first king of unified Italy — looms over a traffic circle that puts any L.A. freeway to shame, I was halted in my tracks by this admirable piece of local art merch: men’s boxer shorts featuring the salsiccia belonging to none other than Michelangelo’s David. There is a raging debate among local art historians as to whether this fine dong truly belongs to David or is simply a knockoff from some other statue. (I’ll be investigating as soon as I get to Florence.) In the meantime, we report, you decide.
When you need a little death and destruction to go with the morning latte. (Photos by C-M.)
The Museu Picasso in Barcelona is one of those places where if you so much as shift your camera strap on your shoulder, you instantly find yourself surrounded by 17 bruisers in blue shirts who bellow, “Nooo pictures!” The super strict no-photo policy is presumably intended to protect the integrity of Picasso’s sometimes overused imagery . . . so that the museum can overuse it on mouse pads and key chains. Lord knows that nothing respects the dignity of those who died in the Nazi bombing of Guernica quite like slapping an image of their suffering on a mug.
Click on images to supersize. More after the jump.
It gets even better once you go in. (Photos by C-M.)
Oh. My. God. Where do I start? I have seen some crazy museum stores, but this one is in a category of its own. S.F. MoMA has a temporary gift shop for their Frida Kahlo retrospective that has all the charm of an airport curio stand. Down to the ceramic tile coasters and Frida aprons. It was an orgy of folklore, set amid lots of brightly-painted everything. Seriously, the only thing this place needed to become a full-on Mexi-Disney was to have the cashiers wearing huipiles and braids. And why no mariachis? Or a taco bar? After standing in line to see the show, I sure coulda used a snack.
The show is up through September 28th.
Step inside, after the jump. Click on images to supersize.
Continue reading ‘See Frida. Buy Frida. Be Frida.: S.F. MoMA’s Kahlo gift store.’
Oh yes they did.
This morning, in my usual A.M. haze, I sat down with a cup of coffee and decided to tend to the growing stack of unread New Yorkers that I’ve been using as a door stop. And lo and behold… What do I find in the venerable magazine’s pages? A long-winded Talk of the Town report about the hijinks of white people renaming their condo buildings? Yes. An incisive anthropological report by Jared Diamond on vengeance? Yes. An absolutely hilarious Mastercard advert featuring a contest in which the winner can have their portrait painted by pajama’d ’80s artiste and film director Julian Schnabel? Yes yes yes yes…yes!
According to the fine print, the winner is entitled to a:
4-day trip for (2) to New York before 10/13/08 for Julian Schnabel (“Artist”) (30) minute consultation regarding commissioned Portrait by Artist (framed, original oil on canvas Portrait developed per consultation & delivered to winner on or about: 12/31/08) & $175,000 check for tax burden offset (Prize ARV=$530,000/Estimated Odds 1: 3,588,229).
Thirty minutes? That’s all the winner gets? Julian Schnabel paints your portrait after a “(30) minute consultation” – and that’s worth $530,000? C’mon, people. If it’s valued at a cool half mil, it should at least include dinner with “Artist” at Mr. Chow or the opportunity to party with “Artist” at Cannes. Though, I have to say, if he does as much cosmetic editing on the winner’s portrait as he did on his own (here‘s what he really looks like), it might not be such a bad deal.
Get the money shots after the jump.
Continue reading ‘Julian Schnabel and Mastercard. Priceless.’