The Accidental Aesthetic: Walead Beshty

His photgraphs are interesting, as is his resume: Yale MFA grad. Surprise, Surprise. Well, I suppose if ou are on of the lucky six per cent that make it through the ivy gate then you should be able to make a broken cubes of glass interesting. The reason, however, I have these three Whitney artists together is becasue they are all working with the idea of the cube. Now, to me, the irony is asstounding: in a show the tkae the "tempeture" of new art, which usually incudes the exclution of painting (here as defined by the use of a two dementional frame) we now are presented with a CUBE ad noseum.

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Dogma and Celebration

While the aims of Dogma 95 may be multiple, an all important ambition is to unsettle an increasingly dominant film-making reality characterized by (mostly America’s) astronomical budgets and marketing and distribution strategy’s, among other things, stardom and technological special effects. The Celebration is a film made under the Dogma manifesto that presented ten strict aesthetic commandments by which Dogma directors swore to abide. The rules are similar to that of Cinema Virte movement in the 1960’s, the use of a handheld camera, the search for truth, and authenticity through a character driven plot, an almost documentary style of filmmaking.
What is interesting in The Celebration is the direct parallel between the idea of the Dogma movement in response to extravagant cinema and the story of Helge’s sixtieth birthday party. Where there was a set order of speeches of praise speeches over dinner, reenactments of family traditions, and so on. The rules are those of an overtly well-heeled family, rules designed to keep in place a happy, extended family. The eldest son, Christian, administers a project throughout the movie in which to expose the buried reality. It is not an anarchic rule revolt: rather he employs each occasion for the following of a family rule to substitute his own rule, in effect to bring out the truth. As the eldest son, his is the first speech over dinner, and he uses it to drop almost casually the revelation of his father’s sexual abuse of him and his sister, as children. His mother later requests that he makes a speech in the form of an apology: Again, he follows the rule, the rule of reply- and accuses her of having known about the sexual abuse., and willfully ignored it.
The manifesto is a call to overturn the bourgeois cinema; the family in the celebration is clearly upper-class, they live in a house fit to be a hotel, they are dressed in black-tie, but apparently not affluent enough: the women are still subservient to the men, an the there is a fair amount of racism that amounts in song. The result is a class revolt by the servants, who help Christian out at every turn, for instance the maids hide the guest keys so that everyone is force to listen to Christian. And just as the manifesto attacks the individual in film, thus demoting the director from his position, so does the celebration topple Helge from his autocratic command of the family, and exile him. The collective replaces the individual in manifesto and in film.

*424

"Whatever" drug commerial parody

LINK to original commercial

I smoke pot and some of my friends don't
It's whatever
they drive Hummer's and I just walk to be Green
It's whatever
I eat locally grown produce and they get Beef from Iowa and grapes from Cali
Its whatever

I tell them when we're heading out to a Libertarian rally
And at the party haven,
I'm the one talking to Bill Maher, and my girls just sit there until all the pot is gone
its time to go, he shouts:
"Hey, get back in your SUV and work on your carbon footprint"

they don't have to worry about living life, I live it for them, until I go off to college
They aren't just my problem, they are everyones problem
we are everyones problem
its whatever.

Fiona Rae : Night Vision (1998)

(2440 x 2135 x 51 mm) oil and acrylic on canvas.

Night Vision, is a work about the juxtaposition of geometric and painterly language. The scale of the painting alone is necessarily confrontational to human scale. When viewed at a close range it has the ability to consume our field of vision, which is not uncommon in this type of work. However, unlike most, Night Vision quietly (discreetly!) commands our attention from across the room, it promises secrets and begs you to step close enough to wait for a whisper. (Note: this is in the Tate, so you may get the odd eye from the badge-clad crew.)

Rae's work presents a humming flat grey, which acts as a field of reference when dealing with the spatial elements of the work. Long rectangles, equally flat, pleasingly disrupt the movement of the controlled drags of paint that were pulled over them. After a brief conversation with the work, I believe these elements are to be seen as three distinct, separate, layers of space and language, united by tone. Rae's attempt is to highlight the similarity with the different languages: they are all presented with equal control and slick attention to composition and space relations.

The secret, as I understand it, is that both geometric and gestural marks require equal amounts of formal control. The artist is displaying a quick wit in her ability to document a ideological peace conference between two (arguably) warring abstract camps.

*235

Hamlett Dobbins' Invention of a New Star (2001)

the invention of a new star (thicket)
oil on canvas (25 in. X 21 in.)

the invention of a new star (for gelsy)
(48 in. X 48 in.)

These paintings illustrate delicate preciousness, both in manner and palette. Thicket, in particular, achieves this by creating surface tension within the handling of the paint: the matte Pepto-Bismol magenta background corresponds to the layered, physical texture of the lighter, biomorphic cotton-candy pink. We are left to understand the idea of editing by the visual clues surrounding the central form, the curious black outline peaking around the edges, and again within the form itself. Dobbins is leaving behind traces of the paintings past, and the idea of the passage of time within the work itself.

The idea of "precious" apparent in this work in not only indicative in the scale, but how the paint itself is presented. Drips, bulges and surface quality contradict the clean lines, and reinforce how the gestural marks humanize the plastically sweet colors.

On the contrast, for gelsy, is of considerable difference of scale and subject contrary to the similar central forms and title. Gelsy, it seems, is a reaction to thicket in several ways. The first of which includes the more conventional standard of a large abstract painting, the second being the composition and color choice. The use of black in thicket teases the eye and challenges the senses, like a sexy La Perla slip under a frothy taffeta gown. In Gelsy, the use of black now consumes both the picture plane and monopolizes the spectrum of color. In fact the reverse happens, we are left only with a portion of Pepto Pink to inform the connection between the two paintings. However, this does not make gelsy less engaging, but unfortunately I am dealing with a pixelated copy. I would like to infer, nonetheless, that the surface is equally rich in flat color as it is in more playful areas. Gelsy, in affect, is a response to the precious scale and treatment of thicket, it is an over taking of senses. And, most irresistibly, is the idea of this growing, voluptuous, self-contained star.

*327

To: Hipsters and Anderson Enthusiasts

Concerning: The Darjeeling Limited and Anderson Land

I think you need to be honest with yourselves. This movie was just an excuse for our dear Wes to prance around Rajasthan, to play with his enormous Darjeeling-Dollhouse: the train that he cloaked as the (literal) vehicle for brotherly bonding and spiritual discovery.

If I wasn’t distracted by Anderson’s ability to get three of Hollywood's most fashionable noses together: Owen Wilson, Adrian Brody, and Jason Schwartzman; then I most certainly was going to be taken hostage by the dazzling optical riches set before me, in both the landscape and the sets. Oh, darn I think I may have gotten lost in the plot. Let's see if I missed anything: Are we still on the train? Yes, it appears that the color scheme is still an amalgam of blues and oranges. Check. Strange, irreverent wit? I think I remember something about sweet lime, savoury snacks, laminated itineraries, Futra font, Voltaire no. 6, pain killers, and cigarettes. Quirk, check. Hand made Marc Jacobs of Louis Vuitton suits (not unlike the ones Anderson dons himself) and $3,000 hand-painted loafers? This is new.

Now guys, I know. Your horn-rimmed glasses are fogging up from sheer frustration. Girls, a bit of advice: you get wrinkles from scowling, no mater how well it works with your American Apparel. But, we have to confront the fact that this film does not carry the gems of Rushmore, where the emotional distance of the lens forces the characters to to reveal themselves. His formal concerns and plot devices were still new, handled with more control and complexitiy, here they have become formulaic and the same distance comes off as immature. Here I suspect more interest in the set design, where in Rushmore it supported the characters. Darjeeling lets them float within it, which I if you were in a Fellini film wouldn't be a problem.

Anderson's latest left us searching for character development, for substance. Dear, sweet hipsters, I warn you: even with a second viewing, it doesn’t exist in this film. And the few places where we encounter it, it is deemphasized by the fact that the rest of the ninety minutes are hollow, albeit beautifully designed. The moment floats away.

Let’s put this in perspective in terms of progression, inferred by time and experience. Wes is 38, and this is his fifth major film. At this point he has a responsibility to his audience, and let’s hope himself, to produce something beyond fashionable quirkiness inside a fantastically colored stage inside a box, viewed through a thick lens. Never before have the characters in Anderson Land felt so flat, they have always been self-involved privileged beings dealing with depression, parental issues, and (the inevitable) funeral. This film is filled is essentially a familiar formula, complete with his signature evasive cool.

He has attempted a film that deals with deep emotional (Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton) baggage, but gets tangles in his own aesthetic. This was a call for help. But don’t worry Anderson, a new season of Bravo’s Top Design is underway. I’m sure they would be honored to have you on the panel.

Anderson: Stay away from the Coppola’s! namely Roman, who co-wrote the film. Instead, let Sophia’s Marie Antoinette be an example: don’t let success (in her case Lost in Translation) give you a free pass to make self-indulgent Mille-Feuille. It may be the treat of a thousand layers, but its pure puff pastry.

To Hipsters: keep the glasses polished and the spandex tight, let’s hope he has something else besides the Fantastic Mr. Fox in the future.

*568

ER: emotional response

Red on Maroon, 1959. I scribbled it down in my notebook, Red on Maroon, Mark Rothko, RMMR, it was at this moment that I became aware of myself, I felt vulnerable. I looked down at my tablet: now covered in girlish cursive, peppered with sentimental displays of adolescent lust: hearts. What was happening to me? I devolved into a girl, a girl I never was! When I was fifteen, I sported Chuck Taylors and took myself very seriously, I thought I came into the world fully formed and with a raised fist. I made fun of the girls that drew hearts on notebooks.
I was in a room full of people, all participating in the same experience, but I felt singled out. It was like high school all over again, I was caught staring at my crush. Only this time, all I could do was relax my mouth and let saliva have its way with me. I uncomfortably tried to manage this cocktail of hormones, and deal with my inability to control my motor skills! But, at least people are leaving me alone, I must have looked "touched".

In short, it only takes half an hour to reduce yourself to scribbles and drool; this event will be endlessly haunting as I approach my elder years, and it becomes daily practice. However, that experience changed how, and why, I enjoy the event of looking. Time literally stood still, I was unaware of my own bodily functions, I was blissfully drunk through sight. At first, I have to admit, I was nervous. This piece had been built up so much in my head, there was definitely celebrity factor: the reproductions, the verbal discussion, its place in history... But, when it was finally just the two of us, it all made sense. And I think he got me, too.

(The author has been waiting by the phone for him to call, no word yet on the outcome.)
*324