What's weird in NYC is most likely be accepted in Austin.

The other day we wrote an article about replacing tinted with correction lenses on the Chelsea glasses. (Let's say, many) People have been staring and even giggling and pointing at us in obvious intrusive ways (and we're talking SoHo!). Magically, those glasses seem to be very much welcomed in Austin, Texas. No one seemed 'amused' by either the rediculous size or the 'possible dorkiness' of the look. It is miraculous: since when Austin is a lot more 'progressive' or even open-minded than NYC, we wonder?

Could it just be that Austin is living up to its slogan 'Keep Austin Weird' and its expected hospitable Southernism while NYC is not necessarily about the acceptance of a dictated idea (that would include the weirdness) and more about proactive opinions and the obvious discrepancies between the cultured and the non? And above all, NYC is not at all linked to anything warm.

A pair of clear lens Chelsea glasses reflects more than the personality of the wearer.
It's neither to correct the vision of the wearer nor the society, doesn't matter what size it is. It's not only to create a balanced vision, but to fairly judge and compare different 'civilizations' and general regional aesthete and politics.
It is a tool of social measurement.

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".

***

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

In the color spirit of the love month, Chinese New Year, and the latest trend in fashion and design in general, we are finally agreeing to write this brilliant sob story that we rather bury deep down inside otherwise.

The Carmine of a Girl

Once upon a time in the highlands of Peru, lived a little girl named Felimone. She was eight. She lived with her parents and her eight siblings, all of which suffered from pneumonia; At the time, life treated her unfairly.
Despite it all, Felimone was a happy girl. She was the only one taking care of everyone in the family. She worked hard day and night, all tired her not.
Early in the morning, she would disappear into brushes of prickly pear cactus. There, she would harvest hundreds of peppercorn-size cochineals. When the sun set down, it was then time for her to go to the city to sell her harvest. Right before she gave the bag to the buyer, she would slip several cochinies into her small pocket and later would bring them home. She was very gentle not to crush them on the way or she would be one very very sad girl.

Once home, she cooked for the whole family. She helped feeding them. She also cleaned them afterwards and tucked them into their beds. And just before they went asleep, Felimone took the little cochineals out from her pocket, showed them to the girls, crushed the tiny ones in a little bowl, and smeared the carmine dye onto the girls' cheeks.
"Oh," Felimone thought, "Aren't they just beautiful with their red cheeks.."
The vision lasted forever.

Days passed, months gone by, one by one they lessened. At last, it was only Felimone, her little loyal cochineals, and the money she had saved. She bid farewell to the land and the brushes. She left her hometown, determined to make her dreams come true.

Finally, Filemone prevailed and became very successful with the help of her dear little friends. Her natural red dye would proudly be used in everything from cosmetics to textile dye. "Red is rad," people thought, "We'll paint this world red!" exclaimed the Chinese.
Filemone then lived happily ever after with her cochineals.

-The End-


Image Credit:
Gretrude Elizabeth Offord's Portrait of a Young Girl in a Red Dress 1900

COOL PRODUCT OF THE DAY

Crochete Globe