Design Trust for Public Space Sixth Annual Benefit Art & Design Auction

MILK GALLERY
450 West 15th Street
(between 9th & 10th Avenues)
6.00 PM

image: Marianne Courville, Untitled, 2000

Armory Show.

It is beyond the art, the VIP lounge, and the super-orchestrated Ecstartsy-land where the very riches and the most successful gallerists hit their highest high after coke has failed. It is beyond the people and their love and hunger for beauty, vision, intelligence, and culture and is beyond the gallery's actual success and their "worthiness" to be nominated as part of the Armory. And of course, it is beyond the artists and their needs to finance their next art and their own anxiety of what the future holds for them.

It is the ultimate war zone: the honorable cause, the blood and struggle, the media and critics. It is a cult of a greater system: the rise and fall of an era and society.
And many of us, the most cultured ones, want to be part of and are welcomed and encouraged to be in the circle. The place where we can be accepted for who we really are: the carnivores of products and outcomes of wealth and derivatives of capitalization. The sharks of our own rights: hand signals, peripheral vision, internet searching of names and backgrounds.
We truly are one of them and we just smiled admitting to that.

Far beyond, in the same horizon, there lie thousands of brilliant and colorful works awaiting to be paid, shipped, and possesed. And for mere three minutes, 150G, and extra sweet conversations and information exchanges with the dealers, art carnivonnaisseurs could own the freshest ideology that artists finished solidifing AFTER the signing of their contracts with the galleries sometimes in late 2006/ early 2007.
Now we wonder: for Salomon's or Tully's sake, where the majority of the artists being showed are standing among all this chaos (obviously, minus Warhol, Dali, et all representing the dandy and the dead, and Damien Hirst or Ono representing the superstars)? And why should art be this complicated? Why can't it just be 'me' and 'me' appreciating the artists and art that 'I' like?

Get over it, people. Economy has spoken far louder then the ideal art term. Art is not just a palette where alter-egos and the seven sins are the ingredients that make it intriguing and appealing. Art is a serious business and those who see otherwise should grow up and understand that even Rome wasn't built in one day and around twenty dollars.
So clutch that Prada, hop into your limo, and hit the pier with your own power tsunami. Alternatively, you can go to the Met and get some 2 for $10 masterpieces located on the sidewalk to the right and left of the entrance and spend your evening sipping California chardonnay while admiring yourself "Oh brilliant me spending so little money on such a beauty!" knowing several hundreds people all around the world are owning the same piece as you. The same piece that came in a crate labeled "VAN GOGH. 50,000 PAINTINGS. MADE IN CHINA".

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Here's to THE TALENTS.
There are hundreds of artists being shown, we do feel very strongly of these names:
Jon Pylypchuk, Rodney Graham, Jason Martin, James Rielly, The Beijings (Zhang Huan, Fang Lijun, Liu Jinhua), Haunch of Venison & White Cube (London Galleries), Timothy Taylor & Almine Rech (NY Galleries).

And here are the several pieces we love:
Anselm Reyle @ Almine Rech, the Japanese anime dolls @ Lehmann Maupin, Damien Hirst @ White Cube, Marnie Weber @ Fredericks & Freiser, Jason Martin's 'Kush' @ Lisson.

COOL PRODUCT OF THE DAY

Nabaztag

Apparently, being homeless these days does not necessarily correlate with being nobody, money-less, and far from the worlds of social and economic exchange, including the artistic/creative world.

Just look at Mr. Roger Greenlee a.k.a. "The Preacher" a.k.a. "Man of Taste" (voted by the NY Post), who was being sued last week by the owner of an artsy antique store for $1 million for his "fragrant vagran[cy]" in front of the fore-mentioned shop. And when being asked of his reaction to the pending suit, he said he was "not worried" and "absolutely not angry".
Wish we knew earlier he had that much $$ in his pockets.

Another example.

The Homeless Museum, also currently home(gallery)less in NYC, has been producing and selling arts and crafts to friends, family, and strangers. They also offer HoMu membership (Patron Circle for ONLY $150! Hello?!) benefiting a homeless of your choice.
We believe HoMu should be placed in the same quadrant with Momofuku Ando's ramen invention (x=genious y= lowbrow) if they could really invent a brilliant something (product or intervention) that homeless all around the world can't live without.
"$100 HoMu cigarettes, dude? How 'bout some HoMu paint? I'd have it with HoMu-made soup myself!"
Surely a very entrepreneurial artsipan, though. They should definitely pay Mr. Greenlee a business visit at his 833 Madison Ave. heated pad for possible future collaborations.

Related Articles:
HoMu
Tyra Banks as a Homeless Woman
Will Smith as a Homeless Man
Undercover Agent Bum

COOL PRODUCT OF THE DAY

Biba Fass- Plastiksack

Sound Artist: O'DEATH -- voted the Best Appalachian Hardcore Band by the Village Voice

"So you missed Jim & Jenny and the Pinetops' last whirlwind tour through town, and no matter how you work it, you simply cannot justify flying down to Louisville (that's pronounced LOU-AH-vul, dear) to see crotchety old Tom Waits. So what's a lover of insurgent bluegrass and/or wonky sorta-pop to do? Why, take yourself to see the sexiest Appalachian hardcore (or hardcore Appalachian) band north of the Mason-Dixon line. That would be O'Death, of course. Combining influences as diverse as Sonic Youth and old Civil War gospel, with sweet ukulele-driven melodies and testosterone-soaked post-teen-angst punk energy, their self-released CDs have so far failed to capture either their true sound or their furious punk energy. But live—well, if your idea of a good time is a crowd of folks moshing to the sound of banjo feedback and Savage Republic drumming, then live O'Death is your cup of moonshine. And while I've yet to so much as tongue-kiss any of these fine gents, after some of their boozy, high-octane live shows I've been sore tempted." (LD Beghtol, Village Voice)

http://www.myspace.com/odeath