The cavity of mid winter appears to be filling… And I’m out A LOT more! Mother Bar – not my usual haunt let me tell you – seem to be doing half price booze till ten. Give the bargirl a wink (and don’t, like I did, attempt to co-op an umbrella wielding musician into turning off the air con while sitting on your shoulders) and they may let you drink on cheaply even later…
I’m getting very excited about Susan Collis’ forthcoming show at Seventeen Gallery. Her brand of super refined subtle installation art plays tricks with the mind – begging to the viewer some compelling questions regarding what exactly is it that is recognisable in an art object? Look out for paint drips, rawl plugs, screws and nails – the everyday ephemera of the gallery and the practitioner – all transmuted to appear as anything other than what they at first appear to be…
Christian Marclay’s show at White Cube quite literally blew me away (now on my third visit and counting). Four screens divide a pitch-black mega-room, each occupying a side of the squared (cubed?) space. In concurrent synchronised waves the screens explode in discharged gunfire. The aggressors are cinematic, each shot or round being the violent effluence of an armed and dangerous character in a film. Some like De Niro or Pam Grier are instantly recognisable pistol in hand, others are just achingly cool – cue scene as an elfin like Manga-femme strides confidently across screen offloading calm pot-shots at an invisible target (perhaps the viewer?). Not only is this show good, it cuts right to the heart of the current hysteria regarding gun culture – demonstrating the undeniable omnipotence of guns while also never denying their caustic danger…
On another note (a culinary one) I’ve been over indulging in beigels. I can’t get enough of them. Why are they so smooth? Why so doughy? It’s not right – someone do something! NOW!
Musically I’m bored of people talking about Neon Bible (yawn). It’s all about Smog (again). Though in line with nomenclatorial (I can’t believe that’s a word!) accuracy and his recent name reversal – one should now refer to him as Bill Callahan. Fine by me, Bill.
