2004 Whitney Biennial

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Dear Contemporary Artists,

Get the fuck off the 1970's dick already, please. Jesus.

Irritatedly yours,
Michael

― Michael Daddino (epicharmus), Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:34 (twenty-one years ago)

Dear Contemporary Artists,

While you're at it, could you also maybe stop listening to rock music for a while? Like, pick up some jazz or classical records, just like the artists that came before you used to? I mean, I suppose I am happy that smart people love rock and are willing to interrogate it and all, but you know, in a museum, it just seems like the Whitney pandering to people my age, and nobody needs that shit.

KORITAW (not),
Michael

PS: At the very least DO NOT encourage Jim O'Rourke.

― Michael Daddino (epicharmus), Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:40 (twenty-one years ago)

Hands off Jim thanks. I'm on a Stereolab listen-a-thon today.

― Autumn Almanac (Autumn Almanac), Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:41 (twenty-one years ago)

Who decided that Tracy & The Plastics was an "important artist" and not just some ditz with a Casio?

― stockholm cindy (Jody Beth Rosen), Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:42 (twenty-one years ago)

i just watched two lane blacktop

― duke plus one, Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:42 (twenty-one years ago)

Anyway, some good ones: Marina Abramovic's Count On Us with its beautiful singing children; Dike Blair's super-banal hyperrealist gouaches; Emily Jacir's heartbreaking meditation on Palestinian displacement; Amy Sillman's oddball landscapes; Zak Smith's Pictures of What Happens on Each Page of Thomas Pynchon's Novel Gravity's Rainbow, which is exactly that; Catherine Sullivan's freakishly trivializing and tragic Ice Floes of Franz Joseph Land.

― Michael Daddino (epicharmus), Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:44 (twenty-one years ago)

Best one is the first thing I saw, SIMPARCH's big tin can out in the front. Patience is rewarded. I think. I mean I have LOADS of patience for this kind of thing. If you go in, there's a good chance you'll be greeted with total silence and near-darkness, which is fine, the museum needs places where you can lay down and nap. When it's ON, you get Deborah Stratman's In Order Not to Be Here (suburbia = surveillance, and I don't mean to sound condescending or reductive), followed by Kevin Drumm's music, which is like a loud My Bloody Valentine loop on repeat.

I think that spoiled me so much I didn't have enough patience for the other pieces. I may have to back.

Oh, and when I saw Richard Prince's Oak Hill, I immediately though of Nate. It involves casts of muscle car hoods, you see.

― Michael Daddino (epicharmus), Sunday, 18 April 2004 01:55 (twenty-one years ago)

http://www.masturbateforpeace.com/images/agothic_small.jpg

― Girolamo Savonarola, Sunday, 18 April 2004 04:27 (twenty-one years ago)

American Girth-ic

― Autumn Almanac (Autumn Almanac), Sunday, 18 April 2004 04:29 (twenty-one years ago)

Robyn O'Neil anyone. Drawing's back, haven't you heard?

― robots in love (robotsinlove), Sunday, 18 April 2004 04:30 (twenty-one years ago)

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