Where High Gets Low.
I’m takin’ a break from the Digest and affiliated art B.S. The next coupla weeks are gonna be about getting in a little R&R and going on what promises to be a pretty badass roadtrip. Naturally, I’ll have updates of weird/cool stuff I see and eat. In the meantime, check out my new movie. I think it’s got Golden Globe written all over it.
See ya on the dark side.
xox,
C.
A video by Alexandre Arrechea on the NASDAQ building in Times Square, playing through March 8. (Photo by C-M.)
…this is fucking hilarious: Hitler finds out Jeffrey Deitch is named director at MoCA.
Thank you thank you Marshall Astor.
In Tortuguero, on the country’s northeast coast – a network of lowland, rainforest canals (no roads) – with our 10-year-old boat captain, Toñito. I spent all day being hauled around by this incredible kid, who learned how to pilot a boat when he was four.
I’m on an industrial-strength deadline for a Lonely Planet guidebook right now – and am in the process of reliving my November trip to Costa Rica, where transport is always entertaining. I’ve put together a short video diary of a few memorable episodes. Sadly, I did not get any film of the one-armed taxi driver who took me – full speed – on a winding mountain road while talking on his cell phone and driving stick.
Catching a ride on the back of an ATV with Jason, on our way to the Green Gold lodge in Parismina, on the Atlantic Coast.
Making our way to Bajos del Toro in the Central Valley, with a little Janis cranking on the radio.
My filmed reflection in Daniel Rozin’s Rust Mirror (top) and Mirrors Mirror (bottom). Part of the exhibit: Daniel Rozin: X by Y at Bitforms Gallery in Chelsea, through March 20. (Videos by C-M.)
To the Extreme: Artist Brent Birnbaum channels his inner Ice during his poster signing/performance at Never Can Say Goodbye. (Photos by C-M.)
As any old school New York City hoodrat can tell you, back in the days when the hair was big and the Internerdz didn’t exist, the Tower Records space on lower Broadway was a place of pilgrimage for all things music. In addition to being the spot where you could find plaid-shirted rock nerds deconstructing the various minor schools of punk, it was the only store in the city where you could also get Lowrider Magazine.
The store closed four years ago. But last Friday night, the non-profit group No Longer Empty resurrected its spirit for a night of music-related artsy goodness in a group show called Never Can Say Goodbye. The space, which has been sitting empty since Tower shut down, was filled with music-inspired art, featuring everything from a mock record shop to an in-store poster signing/performance by Ice Ice Maybe (the Vanilla Ice-esque alter-ego of artist Brent Birnbaum). There was also vodka, red wine and plenty of rock and roll hedonism — so much so that I decided to get my boob signed. Later I hurled on a cop car and trashed a hotel room. And all I gotta say is: Sharpie is a bitch to wash out.
Click on images to supersize. Continue reading ‘Never Can Say Goodbye at the Former Tower Records Space in NYC.’
I never understood Matthew Barney…
…until I watched this.
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On a totally unrelated note: The New York Observer has a story about Jerry Saltz’s Facebook page. I gotta admit, that as much as I relish El Saltzino’s ranting in the same trashy way I love domestic beer and a good diving elbow drop, it’s kinda weird that this story didn’t include a single critical reaction — or reactions from people mentioned in the story (um, like Klaus Biesenbach or Tyler Green). And it doesn’t even mention John Yau. A real missed opportunity for some interesting reading.