Monday, December 20, 2010

I am an Artoholic!


One of the first things I will do when I arrive in London is to go to the Saatchi Gallery. 
The Saatchi Gallery inside the Duke of Yorks HQ, on King´s Road is one of the largest Contemporary art spaces in the world with 70,000 square foot. Until then, I will have to be satisfied by the owners book. In "My name is Charles Saatchi and I am an artoholic" Charles Saatchi has posted questions he has been asked but never wanted to answer before now. With this he hopes that he has given the media what it wants and to please just leave him alone...!

It's a raw, funny, informative and provocative picture of an Art Collector that comes clear after finishing the book. Charles Saatchi, so called the "Super-collector" also managed to snag and collect the fabulous Cooking Goddess Nigella Lawson.

A perfect gift for someone who is usually too busy to read, but love art? It is a quick read and at times quite entertaining.

I will give you some hints here:

" There are no rules about investment. Sharks can be good. Artists dung can be good. Oil on canvas can be good. There´s a squad of conservators out there to look after anything an artist decides is art."

"Being a good artist is the toughest job you could pick, and you have to be a little nuts to take it on. I love them all."

"...once you have bought something that doesn´t fit in your home, and has to be stored in an art depot, you're officially an art collector"

I nearly have to yell at him for this one:

What´s Nigella's cooking really like?

"I´m sure it´s fantastic, but a bit wasted on me. I like toast with Dairylea, followed by Weetabix for supper. It drives her to distraction, frankly, particularly as she gets the blame for my new fat look. But the children love her cooking, and our friends seem to look forward to it."

& This is where I am:

"The more you like art, the more art you like...

the rest is his journey:

....So I find it easy to buy lots of it, and seeing art as an investment would take away all the fun"

With Love 

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Where the Wild Roses Grow!

I am writing about Nick Cave the Artist on my ArtEco blog and I came to remember this Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds song. One of my all time favorites, I just had to share it with you:)!!

"Where The Wild Roses Grow"

(feat. Kylie Minogue)

They call me The Wild Rose
But my name was Elisa Day
Why they call me it I do not know
For my name was Elisa Day 
From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one
She stared in my eyes and smiled
For her lips were the colour of the roses
That grew down the river, all bloody and wild 
When he knocked on my door and entered the room
My trembling subsided in his sure embrace
He would be my first man, and with a careful hand
He wiped at the tears that ran down my face 
On the second day I brought her a flower
She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen
I said, "Do you know where the wild roses grow
So sweet and scarlet and free?" 
On the second day he came with a single red rose
Said: "Will you give me your loss and your sorrow"
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed
He said, "If I show you the roses, will you follow?" 
On the third day he took me to the river
He showed me the roses and we kissed
And the last thing I heard was a muttered word
As he knelt (stood smiling) above me with a rock in his fist 
On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow
And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief
And I kissed her goodbye, said, "All beauty must die"
And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth 

With Love

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The Secret Lives of People in Love

Simon Van Booy

An intricate small book filled with short unusual Love stories.
The stories snakes itself around wonderfully sculpted sentences. You can find a new meaning or a new direction in every single sentence or segment.
My favorite short story was "Snow Falls and then Disappears" a story of having a choice of leaving or having already been left.

Some highlights bellow:

"There is a small tear in the couch I never noticed until now; a piece of leather hangs off like a tongue. It is a small rip but has ruined the whole couch and thrown the apartment into disarray. The ashtray is empty and tempts me to smoke again. My lungs ar hollow and long for the return of weight."

"Would you like to wash her face?" The nurse asked.  He turned to his sleeping wife and imagined swishing a wet cloth through the tiny canyons and then across the plains of her cheeks. He felt awkward and his hands turned to wood"

"My grandmother may know that Isabella is not really part of the family, but only I know her real name and her history (which is bleak). No, I would never say anything because everyone in the family (including her) is in love with another."

"He thinks how strange life is with its frayed edges and second chances; and though by morning he will have forgotten that he ever though it, Gerard feels as though he is being followed, that there are voices he can´t hear, that the footsteps of snow on the windown are just that, and like Lucy´s conception - life is a string of guided and subtle explosions."

With that I wish you a day of wonderful small explosions.

With Love 

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Wedding Poem

I was Running
Running as fast as I could
In the wrong 
When a hand reached out
on a roof in front of a 
Swimming Pool
In New York City
It was a dead end
A good dead end
My heart skipped a beat
Before it ended up on a Tribeca
balcony with wine,
music, Laughter
and the feeling 
of this is so right
This is so right
2 weeks
and my belongings
became your belongings
4 months 
and my body became 
your body
and one more
little man
and then another 
little man
An apartment
turned into a house
A house at the Beach
and then
here we are
Us Two
Us Four
and all of You
to Celebrate
Us Two
In Love

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

A short life of trouble

Marcia Tucker
"A short life of trouble,
forty years in the new york art world"
(edited by Lisa Lou)

I lived myself into the life of Marcia Tucker like I could meet her tomorrow. Maybe suddenly she would be standing in front of me at an opening in Manhattan, I thought. Then I would not hesitate to tell her how inspiring I thought her book was and how much I actually cried while reading it.
Then I realized Marcia Tucker is not here anymore.... I will never be able to meet her.

Seijma & Ryue Nishizawa

Marcia Tucker you could say culminated in the building of the New Museum on Bowery.

After having been fired as an secretary at the MoMA really young with these words:
"why aren't these sharpened" Lieberman asked (after she would not come back to work on a Saturday)
"Because you are not doing it the right way. You stick them up your ass and turn hard, that's what does it"

Broke, daring and not compromising. She went on to assist a portrait painter, and gradually by meeting the right people and throwing herself with passion into the Art World, it lead her to an incredible carrier at the Whitney.

How i wished I could have seen some of the exhibits that she curated. She brought forward artists like Bruce Nauman and Richard Tuttle in the 70's. As a strong feminist Woman of the time, she managed to arrange solo exhibits for Ree Morton, Gladys Nilsson, Nancy Graves, Jane Kaufmann, Lee Krasner and Joan Mitchell. Thinking this was nearly 40 years ago, it is quite amazing, since still there are still few and far between the female solo shows.

When her exhibitions became to progressive for The Whitney, they fired her. 
But, here comes my favorite part, instead of letting that bring her down. She put the little money she had left about $1,200 and began her adventures with "The New Museum". Building a new Museum from the bottom up.

Although she resigned her position as the Director of the New Museum in 1998 and died in 2006.
There would have never been a "New Museum" as we know it without her daring enthusiasm to start it and bring it forward.
The New Museum is still a progressive place where they give new Artists Solo shows. Like Urs Fischer and Rivane Neuenschwander.

Dear Marcia Tucker! 
I wish I had met you! 
You are one of those that tells us: 

"Yes, You can do it too!"


Monday, July 19, 2010

I Hid My Love!

John Clare 
1793 - 1864

Ah those first summers of love:)


I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where'er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye.

I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage here,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee's song
She lay there all the summer long.

I hid my love in field and town
Till e'en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o'er,
The fly's bass turned a lion's roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove 
Was nothing else but secret love.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Unknown Bird

W.S. Merwin
Will be the America´s 17th Poet Laureate
Unknown Bird 
Out of the dry days
through the dusty leaves
far across the valley
those few notes never
heard here before

one fluted phrase
floating over its
wandering secret
all at once wells up
somewhere else

and is gone before it
goes on fallen into
its own echo leaving
a hollow through the air
that is dry as before

where is it from
hardly anyone
seems to have noticed it
so far but who now
would have been listening

it is not native here
that may be the one
thing we are sure of
it came from somewhere
else perhaps alone

so keeps on calling for
no one who is here
hoping to be heard
by another of its own
unlikely origin

trying once more the same few
notes that began the song
of an oriole last heard
years ago in another
existence there

it goes again tell
no one it is here
foreign as we are
who are filling the days
with a sound of our own