Musings from the God of Cities

I went to see richard serra's "rolled and forged" show at gagosian gallery this weekend. the show was composed of some of serra's works, namely
"amongst elevations", "round", "equal weights and measures", no relief", and "elevational mass" most of which are pictured below. (i'm too lazy and uninfomed to properly label the pictures. sorry, ataris!) richard serra is yet another one of those artists whose work i don't really understand but, i still like it anyway. it's hard not to be impressed seeing how honkingly huge and cool his sculptures are. but like like they used to say on reading rainbow, "don't take my word for it..."













These pictures and others i took of the Serra show can be found here.

remeber those "what's gross/what's grosser than gross" jokes that were bigger than snap-bracelets in the 80's? the other day, dr. regina phalange, her beau kirby and i saw the thematic oppostite of that: what's cute/what's cuter than cute. we were at east village biergarten zum schneider when dr. phalange noted that there was a french bulldog. at the bar.




(cute.)

then his owner came in and started feeding him something that looked like slices of butter or pieces of cheese. (it may well have been something else, but i find the notion of giving a dog slices of butter to be very charming.)






(cuter than cute.)

the owner then left for a minute and the pup was so tuckered out he lay down across two bar-stools.




(cuter than cuter than cute!)

more pictures of the dog here.

Labels: dawgsz

Famke, there are certain small moments in all the X-Men movies that are taken almost verbatim from the comics. For example when you take off Scott’s glasses and hold his power back [from Uncanny X-Men #132]. Would you guys ever look at that issue even after you had shot it?

Famke Janssen: I don’t think that exact scene exists in the comics.

NRAMA.com: It does.

FJ: I thought that one was original. Hmmm, what do you know? You learn something new every day.

----TALKING TO JEAN & SCOTT: MARSDEN & JANSSEN ON X-MEN 3



update: i also love halle berry.

I've been to busy/lazy to post any pictures lately. I've also started reading more than I had been recently. One book i'm currently reading is "the pain journal" by poet/performance artist/super-masochist/one of my heroes bob flanagan. flannagan was born with (and died of) cystic fibrosis, and over the course of his life became a practicioner (along with his widow, shree rose) of some pretty extreme s/m practices, which he documented in his writings and art. (i am oversimplifying quite a bit here, though, as flanagan's personal art, dealt with themes of death, life, health, and love to name a few). reading flanagan's book, i was reminded of how much i loved his poem, "why". in it, he answers the question asked of almost everyone who came across his art shows, writing, etc. I first came across the poem during his "visiting hours" show (where i was lucky enough to meet him, shortly before he died.) the poem ran along the walls of the gallery where the show was being exhibited. this served to move the viewer along, as well as to put the art within a more accessible context. enjoy!

Why, by bob flanagan.

Because it feels good; because it gives me an erection; because it makes me come; because I'm sick; because there was so much sickness; because I say FUCK THE SICKNESS; because I like the attention; because I was alone a lot; because I was different; because kids beat me up on the way to school; because I was humiliated by nuns; because of Christ and the crucifixion; because of Porky Pig in bondage, force-fed by some sinister creep in a black cape; because of stories about children hung by their wrists, burned on the stove, scalded in tubs; because of "Mutiny on the Bounty"; because of Houdini; because of my cousin Cliff; because of the forts we built and the things we did inside them; because of what's inside me' because of my genes; because of my parents; because of doctors and nurses; because they tied me to the crib so I wouldn't hurt myself; because I had time to think; because I had time to hold my penis; because I had awful stomach-aches and holding my penis made it feel better; because I felt like I was going to die; because it makes me feel invincible; because I'm Catholic; because I still love Lent, and I still love my penis, and in spite of it all I have no guilt; because my parents said BE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE, and this is what I want to be; because I'm nothing but a big baby and I want a mommy forever, even a mean one, especially a mean one; because of all the fairy tale witches and the wicked step mother, and the step sisters, and how sexy Cinderella was, smudged with soot, doomed to a life of servitude; because of Hansel, locked in the witch's cage until he was fat enough to eat; because of "O" and how desperately I wanted to be her; because of my dreams; because of the games we played; because I've got an active imagination; because my mother bought me tinker-toys; because hardware stores give me hard-ons; because of hammers, nails, clothespins, wood, padlocks, pullies, eyebolts, thumbtacks, staple-guns, sewing needles, wooden spoons, fishing tackle, chains, metal rulers, rubber tubing, spatulas, rope, twine, C-clamps, S-hooks, razor blads, scissors, tweezers, knives, push-pins, two-by-fours, ping pong paddles, alligator clips, duct tape, broom stickes, barbecue skewers, bungie cords, sawhorses, soldering irons; because of tool sheds; because of garages; because of the Pit and the Pendulum; because of the Tower of London; because of the inquisition; because of the rack; because of the cross; because of the Addams Family playroom; because of Morticia Adams and her black dress with it's octopus legs; because of motherhood; because of Amazons; because of the Goddess; because it's in my nature; because it's against nature; because it's nasty; because it's fun; because it flies in the face of all that's normal (whatever that is); because I'm not normal; because I used to think that I was part of some vast experiment and that there was this implant in my penis that made me do these things and allowed THEM (whoever THEY were) to monitor my activities; because I had to take my clothes off and lie inside this giant plastic bag so the doctors could collect my sweat; because once upon a time I had such a high fever my parents had to strip me naked and wrap me in sheets to stop the convulsions; because my parents loved me more when I was suffering because surrender is sweet; because I'm attracted to it; because I'm addicted to it; because endorphins in the brain are like a natural kind of heroin; because I learned to take my medicine; because I was a big boy for taking it; because I can take it like a man; because, as somebody once said, HE'S GOT MORE BALLS THAN I DO; because it's an act of courage; because it does take guts; because I'm proud of it; because I can't climb mountains; because I'm terrible at sports; because NO PAIN, NO GAIN; because SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE CHILD; because YOU ALWAYS HURT THE ONE YOU LOVE

Hawkman, Issue 39, page 12, written by Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray, art by Joe Bennett

Labels: comixxx

Much as I do every Wednesday, I went to midtown comics today for my weekly fix. Behind the counter was a new salesperson. A lady salesperson. It’s rare enough seeing a woman at a comicbookery, but seeing one working there is tantamount to seeing Bigfoot surfing on the loch ness monster’s back. There’s about 4 people working the registers (it’s a Wednesday, and midtown is arguably one of the best comicbookeries in nyc.) and I landed on the female salesman. As I handed her my comics, I noticed that she was wearing this t-shirt:

(available here, for those of you who want one.)

I was trying to read what was written on the woman’s shirt when I noticed she looked up from the comics I had handed her, and was now looking at me, looking at her chest. I felt my face turn from pasty to reddishly pasty. To her credit, the comiclady didn’t make a face, or in any way indicate that she was on to me for seemingly looking at her as if she were a piece of meat. I desperately tried to think of some way to let her know by the end of my transaction that I am trés gay, and was interested in her shirt, not her funbags. “I totally wanna have sex with Superman!” would have come off creepier than just staring at her chest. “Alpha Flight 106 was a very important comic for me.” would have been too esoteric, and the one cute guy who works there wasn’t there that day, so I couldn’t ask her in a conspirational whisper to “give him my number, would ya, darling? Thanks, you’re fabulous!” So instead I just paid for my comics and left. Next week I’m buying my comics in full drag.

avant-garde artist and bjork's babydaddy, matthew barney has a new movie out named "drawing restraint 9". coinciding with the movie release, the barbara gladstone gallery is showing a bunch of barney's materials from the movie. now, i'm not in the know enough about the art world to know if it's cool to like barney, or if i should be turning up my nose at the very mention of him, or what. i dug his cremaster exhibition at the guggenheim, even though i didn't get it at all. (Longwinded aside: that exhibition lead to the most bourgeois moment of my life: a week after he and i went to see the show, dw showed me a cartoon in the new yorker about the exhibit. the cartoon was very clever, and both dw and i liked it very much. at dw's birthday party a few weeks later, our mutual friend rachel asked dw, our friend elizabeth, and myself if we'd seen the cartoon in the new yorker about the matthew barney exhibit. we all had, and instantly laughed at both it and the fact that we'd all found it to be so true. about half-way between my second and third 'ha's i shuddered at the realization that here I was, at my eurasian boyfriend's apartment on the lower-east-side with my friends the phd candidate in linguistics (rachel) and the art historian (elizabeth) formerly of smith and wellesley, respectively, yukking it up about a cartoon in the new yorker about matthew barney's cremaster show at the guggenheim. i shivered in acknowledgement of having become what I hate the most.) i have to admit that while i didn't really like the gladstone gallery exhibition at first, but looking over and playing around with the pictures i took made me rethink my initial reaction. regardless of what i think of his art, i suppose i like that he's totally devoted to his vision. it may not be pretty, and it may not make sense, but i gotta give the dude props for having such a clear vision, being so devoted to it, and carrying it out so thoroughly. now, i haven't seen 'drawing restraint 9', so you'll forgive me if i can't point out what everything is, and what purpose it served in the movie. just look at the pretty pictures and keep your questions to yourself.

when you first walk into the gallery, you see this thing

it's called "Drawing Restraint 13: The Instrument of Surrender" and is made of cast petroleum jelly, cast polycaprolactone thermoplastic, self-lubricating plastic, and black sand

the front part is the petroleum jelly, which barney has worked with a lot


it looked like someone walked through the jelly


and up to a table


where this stuff was




in the next room was this bad boy

named "the deportment of the host" and is made of cast polycaprolactone thermo- plastic and self-lubricating plastic.

if you look closer you'll see

a narwhal's skull


a sink


a decidely nautical theme


and some fun details.

the third part of the exhibit had a pale blue piece that looked like it should have been part of a ship. or something. (remember, no questions!)

it's called torii, and is made with vivak, cast polycaprolactone thermoplastic, and acrylic.

the last room contained this sculpture

which depicts whaling implements, and is made of polycaprolactone thermoplastic, aqua- plast, and self-lubricating plastic

but mostly it housed a bunch of barney's drawings, a lot of which involved some pretty sexual images, including (but not limited to) bestiality and hermaphrodism. whales were also a recurring theme.


















the night after i went to this exhibit i had a dream that i was back at the show with cobracamanda, tell-tale-michael (whose presence in my dream--- no offense, mike--- was particularly random), and someone else who i can't remember. we had gotten in there after hours, and were drinking beer (budweiser cans, no less. as if!) smoking weed, and generally making a mess of things. some older dude who was clearly the gallery owner or something came in and was really pissed off at us. i somehow knew he spoke italian, so i started talking to him in my mother tongue. that seemed to appease him, but i was still so nervous about getting into trouble with the guy that i willed myself awake.

pookiss, park ave street fair, 5-13-06

Birds of Prey Issue 93, Written by Gail Simone; Art by Paulo Siqueira and Robin Riggs

Labels: comixxx

This past weekend, i took part in the 21st annual great saunter. for those of you not in the know, the great saunter is a 32 mile walk around the island of manhattan organized by not-for-profit walking and environmental group shore walkers. i consider myself a big walker, but 32 miles seemed more than a bit daunting. However, i threw caution to the wind, and some granola bars in my bag, and set off for south street seaport where the saunter began. (it should be noted for posterity's sake that when i woke up at 6 a.m., dw got up with me and made me a nice hot breakfast for energy. he is also the kind soul that got me the abovementioned granola bars and a large bottle of water. i love you, boo!) when i got to the seaport, i was surprised by how many people had dragged themselves out of bed in time for the 7:30 a.m. registration for a 32 mile walk.


though admittedly, some were less jazzed than others


when i got to the seaport, i saw my friend erin's father was also doing the walk, with his friends john and jim

george was a particularly awesome person to have in situations like these, as he's a veritable font of historical city knowledge. you could pretty much point to any building or structure along the way and say, "hey, george, what's that?" and he'd give you names, dates and historical trivia. i kinda-sorta insinuated myself into their group, ignoring the mp3 player i had brought along as my primary distraction for the walk. we set off at a leisurely pace (the saunter's slogan is something like, "see manhattan at 3 miles an hour.") and made our way south to the staten island ferry, and up the west side of manhattan. i was surprised to be able to walk along pretty much the entire coastline of the west side.


who knew there was a lovely green path most of the way up? (well, previous saunterers, i suppose...) the walk up the west side was lovely, and filled with all manner of sights to see such as


this wine-bottle-shaped sculpture,


the 69th street transfer bridge,


the strip of land that collapsed on the henry hudson parkway about a year ago,


this building, which i liked not only because it juts out precariously over the street, but also because it kinda looks like it's smiling,


these canoers,


the george washington bridge, and the lighthouse underneath it, (both of which were immortalized in a children's book. who knew?)


and these neat smokestacks.

i was pleasantly surprised to find a good deal of art up and down the west side. some of the pieces were part of the "studio in the park" program. pieces such as


these floating orange balls by mckendree key (more information here.)

and this superneat installation called "puzzlejuice" by orly genger







i think this piece is called "faces in places" by kenny scharf.

but sanctioned art wasn't the only art to be seen. there was also a series of driftwood sculptures running along the coast





at first my traveling companions and i were wondering whodunnit, but we soon found out it was this guy

who asked that his picture not be taken to help him avoid the parks department. i figure since his face isn't showing in this picture, it's cool.

after beaucoup de hours we finally made it up to inwood which was simultaneously very urban


and very green

hard to believe this is nyc, isn't it?

we spent a large part of this leg of our walk behind these two sauntering dudes

i was somewhat intrigued by them because i couldn't tell they were on a date, or on a man-date.

did you know that inwood is where manhattan island was bought from the natives?

me either.

and did you know that beer grows from crossing lights?

me either.

in inwood we had lunch and had a sorely needed break. soon were on the road again, though. to get to where we had to go, we needed to go through civilization, so for this leg of the trip we needed a bit of direction from the saunter organizers


the walk from inwood down the east side was less artful than the west side portion of our trip, but there was still a lot to be seen like

yankee stadium


loads of bridges, the names of which i didn't bother to note




a pile of rock-salt


and my personal favorite,

crack is wack playground.

we worked our way down the east side, and stopped for a break at carl schurz park which was a mixed blessing. we were given apples and water, which was much appreciated, but carl schurz park is all of 3 blocks from where i live, so the temptation to just throw in the towel and head home for t.v. and beer was pretty intense. i soldiered on, though, if for no other reason than bragging rights, and... what's the opposite of shame? it was around here that we met self-proclaimed "bronx babe" marion (with an "i-o-n-!"). marion asked to join our merry troupe, as it's easier and more pleasant to do the walk in company. we were happy to oblige the 68 year-old firecracker, and soon she and i pulled ahead of the rest of the group, who were apparently starting to slow down. marion and i wound up walking the rest of the way back to the seaport, chatting, laughing, and encouraging each other the whole way down. marion had gotten up at 2 a.m. to come in from long island, and then walked from penn station to the seaport, but was seemingly doing better than i was. when we first saw the brooklyn bridge peek through from behind the manhattan bridge,


i got so overcome with emotion and tiredness, i thought i was going to cry. luckily i didn't, and my super-manly reputation remains intact. running on fumes, we finished the saunter and collapsed into a delicious beer from heartland brewery, the starting and ending point of the whole affair.

i wound up doing the 32 miles of the great saunter in almost exactly 12 hours. i came away with it with only one blister, a sense of accomplishment, and a certificate proving that i am one of the few, proud souls who can say that they've walked around the entire island of manhattan. up next for me: a whole lot of sitting around.

These pictures and others from the saunter are also on one of my flickr pages here.

i realize i can't seem to shut up about how much i enjoyed my and cobracamanda's trip to chicago, but it really is a great place to be, regardless of its residents' attitude towards ketchup. why do i love the city so? well... besides, the dogs, the... uhm, dogs, and the sexy, sexy folks who live there there's...

a beach in the middle of the city. a beach. in the middle of the city. ARRRGH! granted, the water is lousey with e. coli, but still. a motherfucking beach!

here, cobracamanda works on avoiding a tan.

not all that far from the beach is millennium park (aka, presumably, chillennium park). it's a big, bold cluster of modern arty sculptures, and other neat features that has its detractors, but is pretty neat for picture taking

here's cobracamanda poses limp-wristedly


here's me taking underneath the metallic bean cobracamanda was in front of. is it just me, or does the picture seem somewhat... suggestive?

also in millennium park are facing light sculptures (izzat what they're called?)


that spew water


on either side of a flat pool of water where kids get all foot-loose and fancy free


besides the tourist attractions, there are other, smaller, but no less wonderful things to see in chicago. chicago seems to me like it's a city that's somewhat more quirky than people give it credit for. like, every other store there is tons of fun, and has window displays like these






but the quirk isn't limited to the stores







even the gosh-darned doorbells are whimsical


this is a sticker that looks like a folded up $20 bill. they were all over the city, and totes kick ass.

but more than the beach, or the public art, or even the quirk, i'd have to say that my favorite thing about chicago is

I'd be lying if i said that food wasn't one of the reasons i went to chicago recently. I'm big fan of local foods in general, and of chicago's foods, specifically, so it was a no-brainer that i would be eating my way through the windy city. what did i have? well, first stop was garret popcorn for some of their famous "chicago mix" which is a mix of their cheddar and caramel crisp popcorns. it was rich, buttery, and fantastic. i'm a huge fan of foods that are simultaneously sweet and savory, so this was totally up my alley. so much so that i couldn't shovel it in my mouth fast enough


the only bad thing about the popcorn is that it stains one's hands something fierce. my traveling companion cobracamanda didn't seem to mid too much, though


the other food i was desperate to get my hands on while in town was a chicago-style hot dog or two. (uhm, or four.) given how chicagoans (chicagoites? chicanos? someone help me out here...) seem to be all fussy about the specific recipe for how to make a chicago-style dog, i was surprised to find some variety in preparation in the places i went. por ejemplo,

at hot doug's




they added sauteed onions


while at gold coast dogs on randolph street


they didn't have any sauteed onions, and the dog was cooked to death


while the gold coast dogs i got at o'hare airport before leaving the windy city had cucumber slices on 'em


the one thing all the hot-dogeries could agree on is the absence of ketchup on their dogs. weirdos. no wonder they're the second city...