Last Thursday Lily and I sat under - or immerse - into Ryoji Ikeda's monumental projection of binary codes decoded into a multimedia symphony at the Park Avenue Armory. It was indeed an absorbing experience, but after a few minutes we started feeling uneasy. "How do you think the security staff endure it all day?" Lily asked. "Do you think they are inserting information straight into our brains?" I replied. The night before I've been to a 3-hour meditation and chanting session. The teacher, a man from Cote d' Ivoire, led us through extreme (at least for me) breathing exercises that, as Ikeda's projections, completely transformed the state of mind of those in the room. After the Armory we left for Soho. A friend of Lily had curated a show with artists working in art restoration. It was a contrast to go from a one-man-at-the-Armory to a collective show of artists not fully recognized as such. Most artists were foreign-born, from Uzbekistan to Peru, and their printed bios seemed as important as their artwork shown. As the writers who edit other people's work, artists that work on restoring the art of others are required to have exceptional skills, but are demanded to limit their personal interpretation, and to certain extent, their self. Who decides how much art is worth? Who decides which art is to keep and restore? When with a group of friends we opened Local Project, a gallery in Long Island City, we decided that we would keep our doors open to all artists as long as they were involved in the production of the show. The space was/and is, very successful, although as an underground organization it runs the risk to be seen as unserious. What is interesting for me is how powerful it is to recognize someone's work; provide the opportunity to present to the world, and have the world come and see them - being at the center for a moment. As Lily and I were ready to leave for yet another cocktail party, I noticed that someone had left a price tag in the restroom. For me, it is not only about what you see on the walls or what is happening at the show, but the stories behind it that matter. For someone this show must have been really important to buy a $54.99 size 9 dress to wear, and even get changed at the restroom right before the opening.
Last Thursday Lily and I sat under - or immerse - into Ryoji Ikeda's monumental projection of binary codes decoded into a multimedia symphony at the Park Avenue Armory. It was indeed an absorbing experience, but after a few minutes we started feeling uneasy. "How do you think the security staff endure it all day?" Lily asked. "Do you think they are inserting information straight into our brains?" I replied. The night before I've been to a 3-hour meditation and chanting session. The teacher, a man from Cote d' Ivoire, led us through extreme (at least for me) breathing exercises that, as Ikeda's projections, completely transformed the state of mind of those in the room. After the Armory we left for Soho. A friend of Lily had curated a show with artists working in art restoration. It was a contrast to go from a one-man-at-the-Armory to a collective show of artists not fully recognized as such. Most artists were foreign-born, from Uzbekistan to Peru, and their printed bios seemed as important as their artwork shown. As the writers who edit other people's work, artists that work on restoring the art of others are required to have exceptional skills, but are demanded to limit their personal interpretation, and to certain extent, their self. Who decides how much art is worth? Who decides which art is to keep and restore? When with a group of friends we opened Local Project, a gallery in Long Island City, we decided that we would keep our doors open to all artists as long as they were involved in the production of the show. The space was/and is, very successful, although as an underground organization it runs the risk to be seen as unserious. What is interesting for me is how powerful it is to recognize someone's work; provide the opportunity to present to the world, and have the world come and see them - being at the center for a moment. As Lily and I were ready to leave for yet another cocktail party, I noticed that someone had left a price tag in the restroom. For me, it is not only about what you see on the walls or what is happening at the show, but the stories behind it that matter. For someone this show must have been really important to buy a $54.99 size 9 dress to wear, and even get changed at the restroom right before the opening.
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