Art Review

Killing Joke

David Moriarty: Halcyon Daze
CREON Gallery
Through September 29, 2011

(Audience Applause)…okay…so a guy calls into work. He tells his boss he can’t come in that day because he’s sick. The boss says, “Okay. No problem. Take the day off. How sick are you, anyway?” The guy says, “I just fucked my sister.” (Laughter) ...Thank you.

Sigmund Freud said, “A joke is a contract of mastery at another person’s expense.” Meaning, essentially, we laugh at the misfortunes of others while admiring our own, more fortunate, position. Jokes reveal, and play with, our inner fears (see above: social faux pas), relationships to power and money (see above: talking to the boss), and social taboos (see above: incest). Shakespeare’s comedies often reveal more of the human condition than did his tragedies. Humor in art is a rare thing, especially in painting, as quite often the viewer is never sure if the whole enterprise is a joke.

Sound and Vision

Gideon Bok: Record Store
Steven Harvey Fine Art Projects
Through October 8, 2011

We were once young, fully loaded, and gaveth not a fuck. We cut huge rails on an album called Unknown Pleasures; sorted weed together on something named Led Zeppelin. When we listened to the music, we looked at the covers and imagined the strange and luminous beings who created these sonic universes. Creatures like Brian Eno, who probably wore clothes of pure ocelot, owned a talking panda . . . had furniture made out of live girls. We were allowed to imagine. And it was one big fucking collective act. Gideon Bok captures something of this time in his exhibition Record Store.

Shakespeare's Sister

Nicola Tyson
Friedrich Petzel Gallery
Through November 5, 2011

A screenwriter bursts into his agent's office. "I have a great idea for a new picture," he enthuses. "We do a remake of The Wiz, only with white people." Clichéd Hollywood joke, sure, yet spot on, with regard to current received ideas of making art. The Reboot, Redux, the Remix -- pretty much any fucked-out form of production -- has replaced genuine individual expression. Part Matisse, part von Sacher-Masoch, part Mary Shelley, the work of Nicola Tyson draws from a wide range of inspiration while managing to pull off that most important feat in art, remaining uniquely her own. Tyson is exhibiting her recent paintings and sculptures at Friedrich Petzel through November 5, 2011.

Some Girls

Aneta Grzeszykowska: Lovetime
Harris Lieberman Gallery
Through September 9, 2011

From Charles de Gaulle airport to JFK is eight hours, but the time change and constant daylight make it seem longer. On our last night in Paris we went to dinner, a very boring party, and then bought drugs and went to a club called Boy or Toy. From there we took a taxi to the airport, finishing the drugs on the way; Amelie tucked the gun she bought at the club into the cab’s upholstery to avoid problems checking in.

You’re the One for Me, Fatty

Lucian Freud: Homage to Lucian Freud
Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC
Through December 31, 2011

You are pretty sure you have a handle on things; a bead on the situation, so to speak. You know the speed that light travels (299,792,458 meters per second). This is of some help. You know, more or less, where you are: what universe, what planet, what continent, what street, what room number. You are focused on reading this. That will keep your mind occupied for well over one minute. Your body, however, is operating on another level altogether. Several, as a matter of fact. At the same time. None of which you are really concerned with right now. Your brain tells your heart to beat, your blood is oxygenated. You are digesting. Producing and accruing shit and piss. You are sweating. At some point you realize that you have unconsciously become wet.

Few artists have managed to capture the gross beauty that is the human. Lucian Freud (December 8, 1922–July 20, 2011) was one of them. His was not an art of our higher aspirations or perceptions of our selves, but a candid depiction of our animal existences.

Wild-Eyed Boy from Freecloud

Kal Spelletich: Where's My Jetpack?!
Through August 12, 2011

The flight to Tokyo from London makes one stop, in Moscow. The layover is interesting. You can’t see much from the air or the airport. Dismal and cold. There is a First Class lounge where you are served tea and ice cream. There are lots of magazines, but none are in English. In the toilet the ceilings have little open slats, which make you think there might be hidden cameras. You’re a little scared.

Before flying was a means to an end, it was a sensation, a thought. The desire to fly was to experience weightlessness, a release from corporeality. The "flying machine" made man superhuman. For Kal Spelletich, flight's future promise may be gone, but not forgotten. Where are the jetpacks? The flying cars, the escape pods, anti-gravity boots and moon colonies? This is the future, your future, but not the one that was promised.

Southern Man: Twombly at MoMA

Cy Twombly: Sculpture
Through October 3, 2011

Men, like trees, wrote Abraham Lincoln, are best measured when down. With the passing of Cy Twombly last week at age 83, we may finally begin to count the rings. Sculpture, now at the Museum of Modern Art, is an opportunity to examine the lesser-known three-dimensional works of the American painter.

Twombly is best known for his scratchy, graffitied canvases, whose subject matter ranged over centuries of classical myths, great battles, and -- in his final series, Bacchus -- giant wine-colored flowery shapes. His signature style, a combination of handwriting, scribbles, and Ab-Ex gestures, can be sampled at MoMA in Leda and the Swan (1962), hanging near the start of the exhibition.

Let's Get Lost: Rodney Dickson Interviewed

Born in Northern Ireland, now residing in Brooklyn, NY, Rodney Dickson made his mark with staunchly anti-war art. This stance led to a special interest in Vietnam and Cambodia, and he has exhibited frequently in the former country -- and around the world. CultureCatch's Bradley Rubenstein recently caught up with Dickson to review his career and bring us up to date on his evolution.

Bradley Rubenstein: Let's go back a few years, first, and touch briefly on the paintings of yours that I first saw: pictures of Tanya Roberts. They evolved out of a complex system of sending off fan shots or pap shots, which were faithfully, more or less, reproduced. In retrospect, though, it seems that you were really interrogating painting via an intercontinental telephone game -- seeing how others saw American culture. How did you see the project, and how, in a larger sense, did this have anything to do with your personal painting practices either before or after those works?