A window installation made from bags of Utz potato chips, by Brent Birnbaum. Part of the artist’s solo exhibit …And Justice for Mall of America, on view at 2nd street Gallery, in Charlottesville, Va. Through December 21. (Image courtesy of the artist.)
- Sarasota: Paolo Veronese: The Master and His Workshop in Renaissance Venice, at the Ringling Museum of Art. Opens Friday.
- NYC: Matisse: In Search of True Painting, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Through March 17, on the Upper East Side.
- NYC: Cellblock I and Cellblock 2, at Andrea Rosen Gallery. Through February 2, at both of the gallery’s spaces in Chelsea.
- NYC: Speaking in Tongues, at Art in Flux Harlem. Opens today, in Harlem.
- NYC: Sicilian Sex Ghosts, a lecture by Paul Koudounaris. Next Tuesday, December 11, at 8pm, at the Observatory, in Gowanus.
- L.A.: New Bohemia Signs: East on Sunset, at Subliminal Projects. Opens Friday at 8pm, in Echo Park.
- Oh, and there’s some stuff going on in Miami…
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.
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