Work of Art Episode 8, “Opposites Attract,” offers a reasonable challenge balancing specificity and free reign – in itself a fitting representation of the parameters of this week’s project. The remaining six artists are paired in teams, and tasked with collaborating on dualities: male and female, Heaven and Hell, order and chaos.

There’s nothing new in conceptualizing opposing forces in art, literature, or film. We struggle with opposites in our own lives, and that’s reflected in our creative endeavors. But perhaps it’s only with maturing that we realize the breadth of opposing forces that we experience.

Cue the cameras! Here lies one of the major flaws in this competition.

“Next great artist?” We all know that’s absurd, and as much an issue in this Reality TV experiment as the problematic format. If we tossed that notion, maybe the producers would include more established artists who would fare better in terms of what they actually create. Participants with some years under their belts, more along the lines of the cheftestants on Top Chef.

The line-up:

So here we are, as the game show continues.

Behind Curtain Number One – Nicole and Abdi (order-chaos). As for Curtain Number Two – Mark and Peregrine (Heaven-Hell). Last (but least?), Miles manipulating Jaclyn (male-female) behind Curtain Number Three. Or should I say wall?

Nicole plunges in with ideas and Abdi looks lost. Mark tries to get Peregrine posing in the buff and she turns the tables. Miles gleefully celebrates his ability to maneuver Jaclyn as he sees fit (he wants her “nekked” again, and she obliges).

Their collaboration is the winning work, though I’m weary of Machiavellian Miles, and would also like to see him attempt something other than constructions and printmaking. Still, that boy can spin a tale and throw up a wall. He can slather (appropriated) tar on a surface, add his “out of control” punching (ridiculous), convince Jackie to paint herself masturbating as a sign of control (huh?) and it’s thumbs up.

Or is it just thumbs up compared to the other efforts? Right. That’s more like it.

And while we’re on the subject of Miles, why is it that I think he would’ve created the same wall and convinced Jackie to paint the same portrait if the challenge had been pleasure and pain, good and evil, or almost anything else?

And his wall? Nice hammering. Otherwise, junk.

Mark’s downfall (descent into Hell?)

I have to give it to Peregrine for not falling into the “let’s get the girls naked in the name of art” trick. Mark wanted a rear view of his partner in the nude, jumping in the air, with a ray of light in the background. To him, that is “heaven.” Um… cliché?

In fact, Mark tweets throughout the show’s airing (extra entertainment), and subsequently offers images of his artwork.  Check out this photograph on his Facebook page. It’s true to his original intention.

Honestly? It’s nice. Does “nice” cut it? Not so much.

What about Peregrine’s idea (just a way to say “not falling for it, buddy?”) – spotlighting Mark’s scar from a dramatic, life-threatening surgery, and creating a Heaven/Hell dichotomy from that? Let’s just say, it didn’t work either. And while it’s amusing (and gross) to watch Peregrine gather dirty cigarette butts on the New York City streets (to further adorn a paint dribbled, grommet bedecked enlarged photo of Mark with scar) – Heaven and Hell? That’s a stretch.

But Mark gets the boot because his half of the piece is deemed “too safe.” A big man baring his belly? That takes guts – pun intended. The image that results? It’s more compelling than Abdi’s – or the Miles wall, for that matter. Which brings me  to the lackluster duo of order and chaos. It pains me to say it, but I believe one of them should have gone home.

Abdi and Nicole

Nicole takes charge on this assignment, and Abdi is left to creative confusion. Giving a nod to the reality of editing and its heavy hand, Abdi nonetheless comes across (again) as uninspired. And by now, it’s obvious, what these judges are looking for are sparks of creative thinking and process. Whatever the result, at the very least, they expect a concept that shows reflection, technical competence with materials, or some tiny element with a possibility of wowing us – were there more time.

Nicole is a creative thinker. She dives in and makes things. Successful visually or conceptually? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. And that’s part of the artistic process. Likewise, whether we like him or not, Miles has ideas. And shouldn’t art start with ideas? In comparison, Abdi appears out of his element. And the result, an odd, colorful, large scale something – falls flat.

Abdi and Mark wind up in the bottom of the dwindling heap. I can’t see either one taking home the proverbial gold, but this week, it seems to me that Abdi deserves the gallery door.

Another invisible guest judge?

I remain underwhelmed at the footage of guest judge Ryan McGinnis, whose vibrantly colored paintings and installations are worthy of a mention.

But Bravo – why bother offering noted contemporary artists in the guest judge role if you don’t make a connection to the challenge, and you don’t show more than a glimmer of their work?

I won’t say this week was as much of a disappointment as the two prior episodes. We were privy to more art making footage (interesting to watch), tears from China Chow (huh?), and Jerry Saltz sounding more like Jerry Saltz (to Abdi: “I’m doubting your vision”). We had the guest judge inquiring as to whether or not Jaclyn pleasures herself standing up (again, huh?), a hesitant admission of yes (really?) – no doubt to ensure the authenticity of her naked painting.

More opposing forces? The show we love to hate?

But I’m a little confused (like Abdi) – wouldn’t verifying that Miles punches walls and Jackie performs private acts while standing be too literal? Weren’t the judges bemoaning the easy interpretations of light and dark around Heaven and Hell as too literal? Apparently, whether or not Jackie fingers herself in the upright position is relevant, as is Miles fisting the wall.

Returning to the rambling … um, “at hand,” we know Jaclyn has issues, and Miles has issues, and Peregrine has issues, and well, don’t we all have issues? But I’m back to my opening premise. Might we have more grownups next season, who are experienced artists, working out their dualities in more expressive and original fashion?

Images courtesy Bravo TV.


© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

It’s a great concept, isn’t it? An all-knowing “Answer Man” – whether you call him your Guru, your God, your favorite book, your favorite site. Or possibly your imagination.

When we’re children, we’re all about the questions. Big questions. Little questions. Everything touches off wonder – we ask why the sky is blue, why ants work together but grasshoppers don’t, why we taste with our tongue instead of our fingers, why the moon is shaped like a sideways smile, how stars can really be planets.

We ask where babies come from. Why things hurt. Why people must die.

Of course, as adults, we often have few answers. We look inward. We look elsewhere. We grapple with what we can’t comprehend.

Who, what, when, where, etc.

Some of us are about the data. We want facts. We seek what is concrete: who, what, when, where, and how.

Some of us are all about the why. Our balance depends upon it, though we recognize that we have no answers, no wisdom, only unending questions and along with them, an inability to find acceptance.

Funny though – we rarely question the good things – moments of happiness, the great job, the healthy child. Periods of smooth sailing which may go on for years. We assume we’ll fall in love, marry, have work we care about, make a home with our families. Tragedies will happen to other people, not to us. So we don’t ask “why am I in love” or “why have I been offered this opportunity.” Yet we torment ourselves over why a marriage ends, why a parent is abusive, why we can’t find happiness, why terrible accidents happen to good people. 

Why me is the question born of suffering, not of joy.

The Answer Man: asking big questions

He’s a delicious fictitious character, reclusive and curmudgeonly, a middle-aged author of the best-selling work on spirituality. A man who seemingly can talk to God, yet his own life is a mess. The film is called The Answer Man, with Jeff Daniels as the protagonist. It’s a delightful tale of human failing and human spirit. Its quirky characters include a struggling single mother and a young man recently released from rehab. They’re trying to make sense of their lives, and they encounter the Answer Man, who has no answers at all.

The movie touches on “big questions” in life, like why there is suffering in the world, is there such a thing as destiny or fate, how much choice do we exercise, really. Underlying themes appear – second chances, reinvention, and our perpetual search for connection in a disconnected world.

The Answer Man is also one of the few films I’ve seen that deals with fathers and sons as a leitmotif – both their absence and presence in each others’ lives. That in itself is a topic worthy of elaboration; the plot offers us the love of a father who is taken by Alzheimer’s and then death, as well as the abandonment of two very different fathers – one who deserts his child emotionally, and the other, physically. We see the legacy left to each of the sons.

Open to further religious interpretations? No doubt.

Human to question, divine to whisper?

For me, the tale sparked a series of realizations, and of course – questions. But questioning is a gift. While I am no longer bombarded by the how and why of everything from two little boys, that doesn’t mean my sons have stopped questioning. And nor have I.

As adults, we often channel our questions into orderly categories. We pour them into spiritual vessels, compartmentalize them in order to cope with daily life, or turn to science, philosophy, or possibly a shrink.

Have you found your coping mechanism, your acceptance, your answers?

Some of us choose to believe in the divine, whether it’s a clear voice or an occasional whisper. Some try to obliterate the questions, to silence them at all cost. Some accept the human condition in a different light, even as we chafe at its realities – equal parts capacity for wonder and for suffering, and the inevitable journey in which we seek meaning – with or without an Answer Man.

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

Did I hear that correctly? Was it really the opening line for Season 4?

Identity: New Don Draper, new firm, new players, new show

If Season 3 of AMC TV’s Emmy-award winning drama Mad Men was all about unveiling the secret life of its protagonist, Season 4 is about reinvention. In a larger sense, this is reinvention for all the players, the infancy of a new business, the turmoil of dramatically altered personal lives.

Deftly played by Jon Hamm, Don Draper is in the habit of pitching his ideas, not speaking about his life. Still reeling from losses – divorce, the devastation of revealing his true identity, missing his children, the comfort of the old firm – he’s anything but open during an interview with Advertising Age.

That turns out to be a mistake. A lost opportunity. Don is struggling with who he is, but as the face of the agency, either he pulls it together – or they all go down.

At the end of last season, cornered into disclosing his upbringing and identity switch, Don’s honesty resulted in disaster. Everything has changed. And Mad Men’s creators are taking a risk – drop-kicking the viewers straight into the chaos that is Don Draper’s life.

Beginnings

What could be more uncomfortable than tuning in your favorite show, and being tossed upside down by nothing you recognize except the occasional face? The office is different. A full year or more has passed, which we only piece together in the last seconds of the episode. The living spaces are different. New characters appear with no explanation and we’re not sure if we caught their names. And the relationships? What’s going on?

AMC TV – what have you done? The first half hour of the season premiere is confusing, disorienting, and daring.

Familiar territory

About 40 minutes into the episode, Don walks into his old home to pick up his children. It is the day after Thanksgiving. We believe it’s 1965, based on how long Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce has been up and running.

Those few seconds of Don entering his home, greeted by a chilly Betty, offer familiar ground. We breathe a little easier. The situation is different, but we recognize something. We hate seeing Henry there, in Don’s home. We’re disgusted at Betty’s behavior – with Don – and with her children.

Yet he’s been cutting Betty slack. Is it guilt? Decency? Love of his kids?

Only at the end of the episode is he irritated enough to force her hand. “When are you moving out?” he asks Betty and Henry, who have been living in the house he shared with his wife. “You were supposed to be out a month ago. Either do as we agreed or I”m going to collect rent. ”

Disorient your viewers? Brave move.

Drop devoted viewers into a seemingly different show?

Brave move. And brilliant. We’ve just experienced life through Don’s eyes. Nothing quite fits. We don’t understand the back stories, the relationships, the framework. Don is less effective at what he does best. At least, until the end of the episode when he throws clients out of his office and agrees to an interview with the Wall Street Journal.

We need Don the performer, Don the natural ad man, Don the storyteller. Don who must master the art of Public Relations. He knows it; he takes control and spins a tale. He’s making things happen again.

You can be comfortable and dead, or take a risk, and be successful.

Those were Don’s words to a new client who won’t listen to his ideas. Could Don have been speaking of himself? Of the new agency? Is this the show’s creators telling us they’re not afraid to take risks?

Artifice and bravado. The unexpected. It’s a new game, but we’re back in business.

Images courtesy AMCTV.com.


© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

For those of us who can’t get enough of this Emmy-award winning drama, with its seductive and complex characters, the slick and subtle depiction of the sixties, and plot twists for our favorite actors to navigate, it’s worth a few minutes to muse on why we’re addicted to this elegant show.

Memory

Some of us remember the 1960s. We may have been the age of Don Draper (Jon Hamm), wife Betty (January Jones), Christina Hendricks (Joan Harris) and others among the adult cast. Or we may have been children of the sixties, as I was. We have vague recollections mixed with points in time, like November 22, 1963, clearly imprinted in our minds.

The attention to set detail and clothing design heightens our experience as we watch, triggering strong memories and associated emotions. This is not nostalgia; substance is plumbed while surface remains intact.

Certainly, I recognize men and women I knew in these portrayals. Much is held back and never spoken. Sexism is blatant. Roles are seemingly more definitive.

Don and Betty Draper

Don Draper as the morally ambiguous breadwinner reminds us of latitude afforded to the “father figure” in the household. As for Betty, she epitomizes the Grace Kelly cool beauty of the time, along with the tedium of housework, a vague malaise, and a sense that there is something “more.”

I recall my father’s distance during the sixties and seventies. He came and went as he pleased, and was typically not questioned. It was the norm, not the exception. He had freedoms my mother never did, as she and her coterie of friends were expected to raise the children, wear a placid smile, white kid gloves, and put on a public face that all was well – regardless of the reality. Other than wardrobe, I wonder how much has really changed.

Myth of 1960s glamor and ease

Part and parcel of the effectiveness of this show is the way it touches on cultural myth and personal truths – familial roles (father, mother, patriarchal society), and the reality beneath. What we see is not what we get behind closed doors.

Instead, we believe in what we are told to believe, a sort of perpetuated myth that is part of every society – the myth of celebrity (Marilyn Monroe), of Camelot (JFK and administration), the myth of American supremacy (arms, technology, consumerism – all represented in agency clients and dealings with them).

More personal institutions are not left untouched by Mad Men – marriage, politics, religion, big business itself – even as we know that the comforts of the sixties (yet another myth) are crumbling as social change rises to the surface – race relations, the Women’s Movement, and Viet Nam.

Mad Men Season 4

What will Season 4 have in store, after the revelations of our Madison Avenue ad execs, the dissolution of both Sterling Cooper, and Don and Betty’s marriage? How will Viet Nam play out for Joan, with her doctor-husband joining the Army as a surgeon? And what about Betty, as she embarks on a new life? How will her desires manifest as women begin to speak out?

What artistic treats are we in for – in terms of modern art on the walls of the new advertising firm? Especially knowing Bert Cooper’s art collecting habits? What fashion and style delights will we enjoy, moving into Mod, and more?

We have glimmers of what the show’s creators intend, as photo galleries reveal stern and somber looks – in clothing styles, colors, and lighting. Starting a new agency is serious business. Yet Betty looks anything but happy, and likewise, the exceptionally capable Joan. Her usual bright colors are muted, her hair slightly out of place, her stance softened and slightly beaten down in the series-provided portrait.

In contrast, Peggy Olson, the up-and-coming copywriter, stands with increasing confidence. Will she continue to stare down convention and make her own way?

More Mad Men Season 4 clues in the photo galleries?

What else might we imagine for Season 4?

Do we see a different sort of loneliness in Don? Regret in the eyes of his soon-to-be-ex wife? Uneasy alliances among some of the new partners at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce? Could there be something stirring between Don and Joan? (Isn’t that a delicious prospect. . .)

I know I’m not alone in counting down the hours until the season premiere, looking forward to what’s next for these fascinating characters in which we recognize elements of ourselves – or at least our desires.

Whatever is in store, I anticipate being surprised. One of the greatest pleasures is the writing, and a refusal to push the pace or to tie up scenarios with a neat little ribbon. This intelligent handling allows for infinite possibilities, an authentic taste of the sixties – and of the  relationship scenarios and ethical questions that any of us may face, even in the 21st century.

All images courtesy AMC TV.


© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

Work of Art Episode 7 may have been titled Child’s Play, but it should have been called Infancy. And that’s the perfect metaphor to address this show in its current state. Work of Art is, at best, a work in process in its infancy, in need of maturing if it’s to become what it could be – effective entertainment for the masses, that appeals to those who are genuinely interested in art, artists, their process, and the outcomes.

By outcomes, I mean fine art. Not arts and crafts, which is what we witnessed in an episode in which Nicole’s purple pipe cleaner glasses may well be the best work in the gallery.

Work of Art: This week’s Challenge

The assignment: call upon childhood to illustrate artistic beginnings, using materials on site at the Children’s Museum of the Arts.

Tools at the ready? Tiny scissors, pipe cleaners, pom poms, acrylic paints, colored pencils, construction paper, masking tape. Most of the artists seem confused; they create childish work, rather than adult work inspired by childhood experience.

It’s a potentially interesting challenge, one that is wide open despite the limitations of time and available materials. Yet it’s another FAIL on the part of most of the art-testants.

What’s the problem? Are they stymied by their surroundings? Traumatized by the teeny tiny chairs?

• Ryan’s scraps of scribbles are a mess, and I’m being kind. He gets points for opening up about religion putting a wedge in the relationship with his mother, but he brings nothing conceptually or visually. He was rightfully eliminated.
• Abdi’s offering? A variety of little drawings representing childhood – Superman, Nikes, and I forget the rest. Uh-oh. Not good. I forget the rest.
• Mark’s recollections of using office supplies as a child provides a cohesive tale that relates to what he produces – something between a comic and an artist book. I’m not impressed with the final product, and wish the judges had taken a moment to touch on the intimacy, diversity, and interactivity of artist books. Still, Mark gets a Pass.
• Nicole thinks with her head and her fingers. Her tiered styrofoam plate sculpture exhibits creativity, alludes to aspects of memory (obscured and layered), and looks interesting. Do I love it? No. Still, she continues to impress with her playful side and thoughtfulness. High Pass.

Jaclyn

Then there’s the girl we love to hate (editing for effect?) – Jaclyn. She struggled with this one, spoke of isolation, and vacillated in her choices. She allowed Simon to overly influence her work. Yet I found what she ultimately creates to have value. The judges comment that it is cold, but if your youth is about loneliness, then isn’t “cold” appropriate?

Furthermore, she paints trees as refuge, in keeping with her story. She uses two surfaces with space between them (two selves? searching for a way out?), and she ties the whole together with strings, pipe cleaners and pom poms that Simon encourages her to revisit. These elements add a bright child-like touch, visual interest, and while not a stellar result, I find it more intriguing than Mark’s, Abdi’s, or even Miles’ offerings.

Miles

While I admit it’s difficult to appreciate any of these constructions on television (or through photographs on Bravo’s site), Jaclyn, Peregrine, and Miles are the only participants who produced adult artwork. Miles skirted the rules and came up with a few colorful rubber band balls to add whimsy to his patterned surface. And most likely, he crafted a bullshit tale to accompany it. But at least it resembles art. And art is more than a story (with no visual), and more than a concept (supported by trash). Both message and aesthetic output need to “work.”

So like it or not – Miles gets a Pass.

Peregrine

Peregrine explores a childhood growing up in a community where children were exposed to dangerous drugs, unsafe sex, and an environment that recalls friends she’s lost to AIDS. She juxtaposes innocence and the seamier side of adulthood – ponies and candies meet cigarettes, condoms, and crack.

I can’t say I’m drawn to the piece, but the concept and the sculpture make sense. They are authentic. And compared to everything else, that’s a win.

Work of Art: The real challenge

This episode was tepid at best. Among other things, where was guest judge Will Cotton in all this? Cotton, whose work melds pop culture and fine art, frequently poses nude women with sticky sweet food in outlandish scenes. Cotton is an accomplished painter (regardless of what you think of his themes), yet in what aired, we got little of him or his artwork.

This is just one of many problems with Work of Art in its current format, or as I said at the outset – in its infancy. The producers are so busy stirring the personality pot behind the scenes, they’re missing opportunities to generate excitement around art and art making. Real excitement. And real controversy.  

Then there’s the dilemma of inconsistent talent, a poor sequence of artistic missions, insufficient time (even 12 more hours might help), and ineffective challenges. Top Chef, for example, ensures that its participants master basic skills – whether it’s cutting and chopping, cooking the perfect egg (no small task), or understanding the subtleties of an amuse-bouche.

Where are the challenges that show us these artists understand composition? Or color? Or paint? Then move on to themes, to concepts, to mixing it up in teams, to limiting their choices, to provocative sites and materials. And while we’re at it – with Will Cotton’s candy-inspired canvases, a food fight cum childhood reminiscence might have yielded tastier viewing.

All images courtesy Bravo TV.

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

And I think of interventions. Of those that are intentional, when we stop, take stock, reorient. I think of those interventions initiated by others, when they observe that we are overdoing or nearing the danger zone in some way, interventions intended to prevent harm, to point out changes needed for our emotional or physical well-being.

Entertainment intervention?

I joke at times about needing an intervention. I recognize my tendency to overdo – to work excessively, to pour myself into activities to the point of exhaustion. To sacrifice sleep for whatever my children might need, not to mention for yet another Mad Men marathon, or my viewing habits when it comes to Reality TV.

Yes, I’m fascinated by the New York Housewives, by Top Chef and its spin-offs, by Bethenny’s Getting Married (most recently), and of course – there is Work of Art.

We do not process in a vacuum; naturally, my musings in recent days are interrelated. I’ve touched on the public face and the private self, on beauty and its advantages, on demystifying contemporary art, art being one of my passions. And so I’ve written about the pursuit of our passions.

Authenticity is an underlying theme in all of this, and certainly when talking about “buzz” – whether it enhances or obscures. Are our beautiful smiles genuine? Who are we, really? Is there a single self, or even a single self that evolves as time passes? Are some of us a jumble of multiple selves we delight in, whether others understand us or not?

How much is real? How much is spin? Can we tell the difference? Does it matter?

Language, assisting

I am drawn to the pleasure of language: I see the word invention, to be plucked from the confines of intervention. And I allow my mind to wander.

When we abuse substances, when we stretch our physical capacities beyond reason, when we border on obsession in an undertaking or pastime, do we know why?

• To what extent does excess serve some deep and private place that may enable us to better face the world, or ourselves? To be “authentic?”
• How do excesses facilitate our creative sides, for those of us who live and breathe the need to create? Do they open doors to invention, and reinvention?
• Is excess about escape, about anesthesia, about coping? Is it all about survival?

I reflect again on my own public face – or more specifically – the roles that any woman (or man) feels bound to play. And for women, there’s no question that beauty is a factor – whatever a culture deems beautiful. There is the fine line to walk – beauty as it assists professionally and personally. Beauty as it distracts in the very same circumstances. It becomes a painful subject as women age, as physical beauty fades, as opportunities and power lessen in the process.

I think again about the public faces we wear in our behaviors, some of which remain even with our most intimate partners. Isn’t some element of persona always present? Don’t we exercise filtering and editing skills based upon each situation?

I find nothing inauthentic in this; it is social necessity.

And as long as the public face retains its connection to some sort of authenticity? Whether you are a performer, an artist, a teacher, a lover, a writer, a motivational speaker – isn’t that as good as it gets? As long as we always know who we are in the process, and the whys and wherefores of what we are doing?

Intervention, reinvention

I feel no need for any intervention at present; invention and reinvention are much more on my mind these days. Ways to put my skills to use, to meld them into a means to make a living, to reduce the stress that is a constant in my daily life, to work from my passions, in yet another reinvention of myself, if necessary.

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

Buzz over our favorite television shows, like reality TV. Buzz over Erik and Miles, name calling on Work of Art.

Controversy causes buzz; the public, revved up, riled up, and dealing with dashed expectations. It’s social media fodder. Word-of-mouth marketing. It spreads fast, attracts a wider audience, and puts issues out for debate.

Who would have thought that people would talk about art in any context, much less a competition concocted by reality TV?

Last week’s episode of Work of Art ignited the ire of many, with its talking smack, the dismissal of Erik from the show, and a rash of argumentation over the personalities, the format, the judging, the quality of the work.

Buzz – of any sort – over art?

Other than the sensationalism of a mega-multimillion dollar diamond-encrusted skull (hello, Damien Hirst), when is the last time that “regular people” talked about, blogged about, or argued over anything to do with contemporary art? So maybe it’s true – all press is good press?

People are talking – about art!

People are talking and writing about art. And no, not in the typical context of polite academic Artspeak. Or even the more cutting jargon of art criticism.

Take a look for yourself. There are more comments on Bravo TV’s Work of Art blogs than ever before, following last week’s show. And then there’s the Wall Street Journal’s Speakeasy blog, and Huffington Post Arts, and the LA Times. There are equally heated (and entertaining) conversations on specialized art sites like Art Fag City or Art Log, not to mention recaps by critic and show judge, Jerry Saltz, writing in New York Magazine.

Discussion is percolating outside this country’s metropolitan art centers. That’s BUZZ, people! And even bad buzz is good buzz, right?

All press is good press?

There are times when buzz can work against you – Sex and the City 2 had a great buildup. Avid fans of the HBO series always want more of the fabulous four. But the movie was disappointing. “Buzz kill” hardly seems sufficient, but I imagine that if there is a Sex and the City 3, we”ll flock to see it all the same.

Why isn’t the last episode of Work of Art a buzz kill?

Because there was nothing to lose. A start from ground zero. The subject of art is rarely on the mainstream radar. This is a win on many levels, even if not for the participating artists. On the other hand, who ever heard of Erik Johnson before this summer? It’s certainly a win. Just not the win.

Contemporary art – is it all subjective?

Whatever I may think of the format, the contradictions, the editing, the decisions, the level of talent brought together, this is PRESS. Publicity. Commentary on creativity, pop culture, contemporary artists. Perhaps not in the way the insular art world might prefer. But people are talking, looking, discussing – fine art education, the art market, the nature of criticism and competition. And yes, they’re even talking about the art itself.

Maybe Bravo knows what they’re doing after all – how to “influence” a situation in order to hold an audience, and yes – piss them off, if it gets them watching.

Tuning in, tuning out

Sure, the show could find more seasoned talent. The format could be tweaked to effect a variety of positive changes. Better challenges. Longer timeframes. Perhaps something more akin to Project Runway’s presentation of a collection among final contestants – an exhibition of a body of work that has allowed several months in the making.

Yet I stand by my belief that this is a good concept, and eventually – viable entertainment, with a side of education.

I love that discussion is dancing around the edges of the art world – viewers are arguing, blogging, taking sides. Engaged. It’s buzz. As for those who are so pissed off they say they won’t watch any longer? We’ll see. Maybe they won’t want to watch, but I suspect they will. People are curious about outcomes. A few may tune out, but far more – including me – will tune in.

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

Yes, indeed. It wouldn’t be the formula we love to hate if we didn’t stir the pot, turn up the heat, and watch our favorite personalities go at each other under pressure. Last evening was the Erik and Miles show, with a little bit of Jackie in a supporting role.

Some of the lowlights?

Erik to Miles:

I’m not your fucking helper, dude.

Erik about Miles:

I’ve been around too much to have some stuck up art pussy tell me life lessons.

Erik on Miles’s idea for the sculpture:

And you built another homeless shelter.

I give Erik points on that one. At least, it started out part homeless shelter-quiet space, part tree house. And doesn’t succeed as either – for originality or finished product.

Open to the public?

I can’t say I enjoyed last night’s “Open to the Public” episode. I don’t care to watch adults act like 9-year olds. The challenge was worthy, and difficult – a sculpture or installation with a social message, for a public space, working in teams of four. (The Red Team – Nicole, Abdi, Ryan, Mark, and the Blue Team – Miles, Jaclyn, Peregrine, Erik.) There was a quick trip to LentSpace in Lower Manhattan, where the work would be installed, then two days to complete the task at hand.

The Red Team acted like adults (*sigh of relief*), but on the Blue Team, Erik and Miles get into it, the ladies try to break it up, Jaclyn passes a note to Erik (may I repeat – fourth grade?) and we have yelling, name calling, hurt feelings, and frankly – a crappy end result.

And speaking of end result, perhaps we should recall that the assignment is making art, taking inspiration from an exterior location, relating to the environment, and creating a public presence that people will interact with.

Public art that sticks and pleases

Public art is problematic, as guest judge Yvonne Force Villareal seems to point out, requiring many voices to agree, collaborate, and compromise. Yet public art enlivens both urban and rural landscapes.

A few examples that pop into my mind immediately:

• Robert Indiana’s 1967 LOVE sculpture
• Sol LeWitt’s 54 Columns in Atlanta
• Jonathan Borofsky’s towering Walking to the Sky in New York

Of course, the judges made mention of the Jeff Koons Puppy, displayed at Rockefeller Center, created with steel, soil, and plants, as an example of successful public art. Sorry. Not a fan. Give me Borofsky, Richard Serra, Sol LeWitt, or even Niki de Saint Phalle with her colorful, whimsical public sculptures.

Ah yes. Then there is the issue of social message. Public art should say something. Of course, some would say that all art should say something. (Time for me to be a heretic? And the Jeff Koons Puppy is saying what, again?) Quick! Call in the spin doctors!

The competition

Nicole got my vote for thoughtfulness when she first stretched out on the ground in order to get a better sense of the space, and to experience it. She picked up the gravel beneath her fingers. She felt it, looked at it, saw the beauty in the shapes. This is what inspired the design for the Red Team – a large geometric structure surrounded by several considerably smaller ones.

While I didn’t especially care for the result (Sol LeWitt geometrics meet 1960s Star Trek landscape?), I did enjoy watching the team at work – as they constructed their monolithic structure out of plywood, and surrounded it with smaller forms in cast concrete.

As for the battling Blues?

I didn’t like Miles’s initial idea (an urban tree house?) nor the finished product – a hodgepodge of wood and aluminum that reminded me of a playground apparatus gone bad.

Challenges of public art

The issues behind the challenge are more interesting – the complexity of commissioning, approving, siting, and creating any work for public consumption – the involvement of city planners, politicians, lawyers – who themselves must fight it out and eventually agree. There are concerns about a broad (essentially faceless) community responding to whatever is installed (residents and visitors), ensuring the work is structurally sound (safe), and minimizing the likelihood of vandalism.

The reality is that artists don’t work in a vacuum, though they may wish they did. Generally, they must interact with others who support their efforts – galleries or dealers who will assist with showing the work and selling it, critics who will like it and write about it, patrons who will purchase it.

More to probe?

Erik raised the perpetual debate typical among creative types – the need for formal training versus being self-taught. Have all great artists attended art school and studied art history? Of course not, but I dare say they don’t think it’s unimportant to learn – however you accomplish that, so you know what is innovative and what isn’t. What “works” and why.

What doesn’t work, for me? Watching so-called adults act like kids. If I want fourth graders, I’ll volunteer at the local elementary school, and teach a class on the value of working as a team.

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

I am not looking forward to visiting the supermarket this morning. It is one of the activities that is most painful to the arm and back injuries from an auto accident, in particular carrying my purchases in from the car, and putting things away.

I am looking forward to the car actually starting – and I’m not accepting any other possibility as, well… possible.

I am looking forward to the return of Bug Guy later today, sometime, who was here for hours yesterday (with lots of good mojo, but not everything he needed).

I am looking forward to Work of Art on television tonight, and wildly excited that Mad Men Season 4 is just around the corner! And tomorrow evening I can enjoy Bethenny Getting Married as well, a show that always makes me laugh.

I am looking forward to eventually finishing this nasty organizing task – there are more than forty files spread across my house, labeled. Where I store them when I’m done? Haven’t figured that out yet. Two more mystery boxes to empty, and one last corner in the den. I think I can, I think I can, I know I can. And I will get it done!

I am looking forward to somehow finding a degree of greater healing for my body. And yes, for my mind. For tough times I’ve had to relive in going through these stacks of papers. Facing the reality that life isn’t fair, then moving on as best I can.

I am looking forward to my sons returning from their respective summer adventures – a very different experience for each – and while I’ve enjoyed this time alone, largely to tackle these difficult tasks, as aggravating as it is to parent teens, I miss my boys.

I am looking forward to the hidden and unexpected laughter that is part and parcel of every life. It’s healing. It’s energizing. It’s there. Always.

I am looking forward to better days, because I insist on believing in better days. Stubbornly. And that belief has gotten me through a good deal, and I count on it to continue doing so.

What are you looking forward to?

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy

Last evening’s episode of Work of Art featured the Audi Challenge, apparently the only sponsored challenge of the series. The participants were to experience their Audis, cruise the city, head to the showroom, and express what they gleaned from their drive through Manhattan. An exciting mission?

Not particularly.

Yet this challenge offered openness – anything to do with a car, with the city of New York, with the artist’s mindset while driving. That’s certainly a wide berth, and theoretically the results should seem less forced, yielding more “truth” of who these artists are and what they’re capable of. Pushing their comfort zone, or exercising smartly within it.

Mark’s Gridlock

It’s odd that Mark chose this time to step outside his usual (photographic) medium. The results were ho-hum – a layered grid painting with little visual interest. But he tried something different, and gets to stick around. It’s increasingly clear that the artists with more versatility in a breadth of mediums have a higher probability of lasting. Still, given guest judge Richard Phillips, whose work frequently dips into gritty imagery of human form, bad call, Mark.

Nicole’s Suspension Sculpture

I can’t say I loved Nicole’s interpretation of an automobile’s suspension, but it had a simplicity that I liked, and the idea was original. She also stayed true to herself and constructed something. She thinks three-dimensionally, and came up with a sculpture that catches our attention, albeit briefly.

That’s good enough to keep her hanging around, and helpful for Bravo’s promotion of the so-called flirt fest between Nicole and Miles.

Ryan and Abdi’s portraits

Both Ryan and Abdi returned to portraiture, which Ryan does in nearly every challenge.  “Are you a narcissist?” Simon de Pury jokes. Um, Simon… Do you know any artist who isn’t narcissistic, and needs to be in order to survive?

As for the bright portraits and the explanations concerning them? Abdi is more than adept at pleasing us with brilliant color, and Ryan pulled off another “nothing special.” With Philips’s strident manner of dealing with realistic human form, it’s no wonder Ryan got called on the carpet.

Jaime Lynn’s wheel of misfortune

Jaime Lynn’s consistently underwhelming performance continued. She is an illustrator, and she’s clearly out of her element. Her dancing girl wheel concoction? It might work in a children’s book, but given her weak showing to date, there was little question she’d be booted off the Bravo Island of Manhattan with this particular effort.

Jackie’s photo montage

Jaclyn’s departure from her usual self-absorbed strip-tease is what got the judges attention. Rather than saying “look at me” she said “I’m looking at you looking at me.  And by the way, look at yourself while you’re at it.”

There’s nothing original in obliterating faces – obscuring them, erasing them, splatting them with paint. But in using her vantage point from inside the auto showroom looking out, she remained true to her (conflicted?) themes of women’s bodies, while veering away enough to create an effective composition and offer a different point of view.

It was clever, and something we haven’t seen from her before.

Miles – one note?

This week Miles offered up a somber print and wooden stands. I liked the minimalism of the piece, and the fact that he took advantage of the inherent opportunity in this challenge, expressing nothing to do with cars, and everything to do with cities like New York, and Miles Mendenhall as he portrays himself.

Is he smartly staying within his comfort zone? So far, yes. Is he one of the more versatile and shrewd artists competing? I’m guessing, yes. So while I liked the work, he played it close to the vest.

Richard Phillips

Last evening’s judge, Richard Phillips, is an impressive move for this show. I find myself wondering what he would have done with this assignment. When I view a selection of Phillips’s paintings, drawings and prints on Artnet, I am also reminded how important it is to consider a body of work. Something we cannot have in a show of this format.  

As for Phillips, perhaps he was the most interesting part of this recent episode. His art hovers in that unsettling space of provocation: the image that seduces and repulses, the image that makes no bones about its dialog on art and pornography, art and media, art and contemporary society. I find his works to be imposing, disturbing, sometimes beautiful, rarely indifferent. I like some, love some, and dislike others.

Those are my judgments and only mine. After all, assessing art is ultimately subjective. We bring who we are, what we’ve lived, what we’ve seen, and our propensity for seeing more in each artwork. The more we see, the more we are able to see. Of the artist’s truths, and our own.

All contestant images are courtesy Bravo TV.

© D A Wolf

Big Little Wolf’s Daily Plate of Crazy