So today I attempt to begin yet another attempt at making and maintaining a blog. I'll see if it works. My head has been moving very quickly for two days and I haven't had the followthrough to direct it into any art or anything, so perhaps this might be able to filter some of the crap out. This was an interesting week filled with all sorts of strange events. It all starts on Saturday, when I started teaching a new class at a middle school on the corner of 127 St and Amsterdam Ave in Harlem. The class is for students in 8th grade who almost passed their state math exam. I was excited to go to a new school. I haven't been teaching very much and I quickly feel obsolete and directionless without plenty of work and contact with somebody who I can have intense or dynamic interactions with. Kayita, the site coordinator, is really devoted to the kids and to the school and it shows. She seems to have a good relationship with all the students and to have a genuine desire to see their happiness. It is a unique trait as far as what I have seen in many public school after school or extracurricular coordinators. The school is in an area that seems to be undergoing violent changes. Lots of old buildings with new windows (stickers still on) and with new high rents (I assume).
One thing that hasnt changed is TRIPLE CANDIE, a hilarious and challenging art space right around the corner from the school @ 461 W. 126th St. I spoke to Peter Nesbett, one of the directors of the gallery about developing some sort of relationship between my art class and the gallery. None of the teachers or kids I met at the school had ever had the guts to go in and check the place out. The show was really funny. The whole show was a big cheap trick played by Triple Candie on art. They created a fake forgotten artist persona who's work was mocking the very popular, partially destructed, kind of beautiful, sorta lazy, haphazardly poetic, specifically pathetic aesthetic (which i like and am guilty of occasionally). The gallery has 6 or 7 little islands of piles of office junk, construction crap, boxes, building detritus, etc., and then Peter sits in the back of the gallery and hollers from his desk: There is info about the show right here to read! After the list of this fictitious artist's detailed geneology of his work and life, there is a little note alerting us that this was just a joke. Obviously they worded it differently. The experience was good. I wonder if someone separate from artmaking and culture vulturing would think it was funny?
I have been thinking a lot about the ability or inability of most art to interest a guy on his way to the deli. A few weeks ago I approached this problem in a little talk I gave at SAIC. Soon I will put a video up that will link here.
I do trust that there is some outward spiraling of art and culture from the inside, out. But I feel clueless as to how to be a functioning part of society. And a responsible one. I have the same conversation with someone every day where we decide that globalization will reverse somehow and communities will become localized and artists will have a job to do with their problemsolving skills and creative thinking. But until then should I make puffypaint accessories for my cat because it feels good? I think not. But could I make art that sells? I think I know how but cannot bring myself to. I always know that I could push anything I make just a little further to make it into something more digestable but thus far have not taken the initiative to go that far. But if I did sell stuff than I could at least take part in commerce. Or I could put it on my resume. And have more friends with better accessories.
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