Art Garbage Finale

Taking a blog break for a while.

Tune in again...for the July 'Tits & Ass' issue of Art Slob.

Thanks for coming by!

Temple of Apollo, Delphi

Blogging Andy Warhol

'Warhol of America' Bill Pocock, 2006

I check in once in a while over at I Blogged Andy Warhol to read the diary entries of the man. Here's a funny installment from when Andy went to a Hollywood party. Andy & Co. was in town to promote his Roger Corman production of 'Bad' (rated 'X' because a baby was thrown out a window):

"Fred and I went back to the hotel to get ready for Sue Mengers’s dinner party in Bel Air. Picked up Diana. Ryan and Tatum were at Sue’s, and Barbra Streisand and Jon Peters. Diana went over and told Barbra off about something. Candy Bergen and Roman Polanski were there. It was a party for Sidney Lumet. He hates me and his wife Gail doesn’t know whether she does or not, but she follows what her husband does so she’s cold. Sidney runs around kissing everybody and then stops when he gets to me. Film directors used to be such macho guys, and now they’re these little fairy-type guys running around French-style double-kissing but still thinking they’re macho." - Andy Warhol (Friday, March 25, 1977, Beverly Hills, CA)

Does 'fairy' mean Sidney Lumet was homosexual? Nah, Andy means Sidney resembles a mythical faerie. Like this...

e3D

I'm enjoying the virtual aspect of this channel. But a madness gripped me for a moment or two as I tried to imagine doing 3D sculptures on the computer. Then I realized the absurdity, not of e3D creation itself, but for an essentially material world sculptor to make that conceptual jump.

"Work Gnomes" Bill Pocock, 2005

When I was in the ThinkTank one of my lines was, "If it isn't virtual it doesn't exist". But that's completely standardized thinking, and the brainwash you spoon people for necessary conditioning in a corporate environment. At least that's the theory. The sensuousness of physical, non-standardized objects is, rather, my bag. Lemme see, what are the sensuous, non-standardized things in my life?...

I was going to paint those 'work gnomes' with either green or blue gowns and red hats, but I don't think so now. Bleached is best, or maybe dirty cream. Marzipan.

Disease-Mongering

You gotta love those pharmas. If it isn't irritable bowel syndrome, or 'restless legs' it's some old annoyance become today's new pill-cure disease. How about a drug for kids who are afraid to play baseball?

BBC News has got a good article on disease-mongering in the drug industry. Australian research scientists (Newcastle University) slam the industry for trying to push drugs as a solution for everthing short of bliss.

"Disease-mongering is the selling of sickness that widens the boundaries of illness and grows the markets for those who sell and deliver treatments."

Industry-backed public awareness campaigns are used to sell drugs instead of educate the public. Somehow I don't think 43% of women suffer from sexual dysfunction - at least not the ones I know.

PocockoHoff

'Pocockohoff' Ms. X, 2006

Ms. X was kind enough to conjure up my Hoff dream as reality. I'm one step closer to becoming The Hoff.

You see, The Hoff is not a person, but a heroic being in our midst. There is a long line of The Hoff throughout history, always ready to save humanity in its hour of need. It's a role passed down in succession to the person deemed most worthy when The 'Old' Hoff can no longer carry out heroic deeds - or the 12 hour lovemaking sessions.

Below, we see The Hoff as he brings peace to warring Zulu factions.

The Cult of Zardoz

Now it can be told...

Around 1998 I saw a movie that would change my life - at least for a couple of years. The film opens with a giant stone head floating through clouds. Much like the Richard Dreyfus character in 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' I instantly wanted to begin work on a 6 foot tall concrete replica of the stone head in the livingroom where my Vancouver housemates (Jen, Sky, Daddy-o) and I were watching the show.

Sadly, Jen, the gal who lived beneath the livingroom, talked me out of this great adventure. She feared the concrete head would fall through the floor and crush her in bed. Reason conquered passion this time.

Instead, I modeled a plaster 'Janus' version (somewhat like those the exterminators wore in the film) as a model for a future, monumental head. There's been a much better plaster head made for Derek of the Saskatchewan branch. Below is a photo of the original relic.

This film was, of course, the 70's cult classic, 'Zardoz', directed by John Boorman and starring Sean Connery (looking like a reject from a gay pride disco). If you're humour-challenged the film is just awful.

The film may be summarized as follows: Zed (Sean) is carried in the mouth of his stone head god (Zardoz) to a utopian realm where he's the only guy who can get an erection and all the women want him. Those are the broad strokes. Though, no matter how many times I've seen the movie, I still don't understand the whole thing. Such mysteries are cult movements made of.

Sky, Daddy-o and I decided that a complete translation of the film's audio track (words, grunts, laughs, sighs) was needed in order to settle some arguments we began to have regarding 'the true Zardoz'. After several thousand rewinds of the VHS remote controller, our white dining room walls were covered with black permanent marker words. Disputes were settled in night ceremonies by candlelight as we would read the words of Zardoz from The Sacred Wall.

Stunt Zardoz Geek
(must be at Burning Man Fest)

We held Zardoz parties where friends, intrigued by the strange/mad writing in the dining room, would sit and watch the film with us. A small ritual was even performed with the plaster head passed from one audience member to another as the 'real' stone head moved through the clouds. For some unexplainable reason, many of these people never returned for a second viewing.

After a year of this Jen requested we paint over The Sacred Wall as her friends were afraid to enter the house. So we painted over it - seven coats, I believe - and the words disappeared. Ah, but then the words reappeared! Like some cheesy horror flick - or religious miracle - the words bled right through the yellow paint. Jen finally accepted the will of Zardoz and awaited the razing of the rental house only months away. A fitting end.

The Hoff Report

People put The Hoff down for his UberCheesyness. I'm sorry, but this crazy old world needs all the clowns it can get. The only tragedy I can see in the Pepsi ad above is that it isn't me. He's moving into Will Shatner territory which is a positive psychological sign, I feel.

Let's just hope the days (below) of UberVanity are over.


Move into the comedy light, David baby. Our prayers are with you. Next stop the French Legion of Honour!

Japanese Manhole Art

Folks, one of these days Ms. X is gonna blog all the treasures she finds. Until that bittersweet day, I thank her for showing us a webpage dedicated to Japan's beautiful manhole covers.

Just try to find one without fresh paint! Could you even step on one? Here's a small sample....

(Iwate)

(Iwate)

(Mark Adsett)

(Steve Martinson)

AS: Fool of the Year

Silvio Berlusconi, Italy's richest man who owns three of the country's largest private TV stations, the country's leading daily, and dozens of other news outlets is about to be defeated after one term in office.
The Bangkok news reports:

An exit poll for state television Rai gave support for Prodi's coalition at between 50 and 54 per cent compared to 45-49 per cent for Berlusconi's centre-right alliance.

For his colossal bungling of a public image - controlled in no small part by his media empire - Silvio Berlusconi is awarded the Art Slob Fool of the Year award. Berlusconi is the sad and lonely form of fool who has neither the wit to dissemble his nature in the public eye, nor the fool's craft of eluding the consequences of his actions. Your lack of artistry gave us no light into our own foolishness, preferring the sun to shine only for yourself. We are no wiser at your passing, only grateful that you're gone.

Congratulations, Fool!

Old-Time Feminism

All that penis talk reminded me of a 1981 Canadian documentary film entitled, 'Not a Love Story: A Film About Pornography'. It offers the fruition of '70s old school feminist thought on the portrayal of women in mainstream US porn of the time. I can't say it seems much better now - from what I've heard.

Anyway, in one of the scenes this guy is sitting on the couch with his angry wife and the interviewer. Buddy very quickly (in the editing) breaks down in tears, inconsolable - not that any consoling is offered - because he is a man. All men are evil.

Marcello must defend his manhood
in Fellini's '8 1/2'.

Here's the conceptual art theory thing: 70s feminism was hardball and extreme, but there were some very good ideas and it was clear. What solid models do women and girls have now?

Marcello co-exists with confident woman
on an international film tour.

Why do I have this awful feeling that most young women would much prefer to watch yet another rerun of 'Sex in the City' than read 'The Second Sex'?

I'm gonna go beat a drum in the forest now.

Zardoz Speaks

"ZARDOZ speaks to you his Chosen Ones.
You have been raised up from Brutality
To kill the Brutals who multiply and are legion.
The gun is good.
The penis is evil.
The penis shoots seeds that brings new life
That has plaqued this planet for far too long.
Go forth and kill.
ZARDOZ has spoken."

-excerpt from the film 'Zardoz' (1974)

He does it with Imagination.

"I am Arthur Frayn and I am Zardoz.
I have lived 300 years, and long to die.
But death is no longer possible, I am immortal.
I present now my story - full of mystery and intrigue.
Rich in irony, and most satirical. It is set deep within a possible future....
I'm a fake god by occupation
and a magician by inclination.
Merlin is my hero."

- opening lines of the film 'Zardoz' (1974)

ZARDOZ

"Eat that, Warhol Foundation!"

'Adolf Warhol (PB)' Bill Pocock, 2006

'Pocock Blue' (Klein series)

'Pocock Blue'

Bill Pocock, 2006

Epic Day

Whenever I see tulips I think of unconditional love.

They are cute.

'All Very Innocent' Bill Pocock, 2006

Met artist Tennille Rose Will (left, with friend). She placed my card over her heart. So much for my blissful detachment from it all. Utterly charming ladies.... See the Gallery Crawl photos next week.

Another fine jam session at the Gladstone.

'Dream Vision' Bill Pocock, 2006

'Thousand Points of Light'

'Thousand Points of Light'
Bill Pocock, 2006

'Criss-Cross' ('The Street' series)

'Criss-Cross' Bill Pocock, 2006

'Death of a Disco Grocery Bag'

Had my own little 'American Beauty' moment today. If you've seen the movie, a character videotapes a magical moment when a white grocery bag dances gracefully on the wind. Well the world faded away for a few moments today as I took a short video of a white grocery bag (contact sheet below) as it floated on the wind just west of Lansdowne on Bloor.

Still from 'Death of a Disco Grocery Bag'
Bill Pocock, 2006

All was well for our Disco Grocery Bag until...the Red Car. Look closely at the photo below.

Still from 'Death of a Disco Grocery Bag'
Bill Pocock, 2006

The other guy who was watching (seen at left in the photo above) started howling with amusement after the bag was hit and carried away on the Red Car's bumper. We looked at each other, laughing, and gave it "two thumbs way up".

Catherine the Great

Worthwhile review of 'Catherine the Great: Love, Sex and Power' over at The Telegraph. The review is a tidy survey of the biography's exploration of one of history's significant political forces and a god-like patron of the arts.

"By turns adoring, greedy, humorous, demanding, canny and disingenuous, she is always hungry for knowledge and stimulation, reading voraciously and summoning Diderot - whose private library she had bought to save him from poverty - for nightly conversations. Her serial relationships, Rounding argues, were the result of an endless search for honesty."

I can think of no better motive than the 'search for honesty' in many an artist and patron's life pursuits. Aware as I am of my own mortality and the fictions of society life, that I see some of myself in Catherine's struggle is what makes her great to me.

'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?"

Some of my Loyal Readers may remember my adventure with the found art (March 29, 2006). The latest development:

• I gave the female nude a glass coat and will hang it in my swinging bachelor pad soon enough.
• The other painting of a girl/doll I call 'Baby Jane' has become...
  

'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?'
Bill Pocock, 2006

I think the brushwork helps to bring out the residual knife stabs rather well.

Steve Austin

Ms. X passed along a fantastic link to a 6 Million Dollar Man memories website at FeelingRetro.

Here's the memory I posted:

My brother and I used to completely abuse his GI Joe doll with stunts, blowing up, burning, crushing.

Then I came across the first Steve Austin doll a buddy of mine had. I held it with such reverence, fearful that I might drop it. I looked through his telescope bionic eye, I rolled up his fake arm skin to reveal the bionics underneath.

For a while in my twenties I wanted Steve Austin as a nickname (until the WWF guy ruined everything). Fool, there's only one Steve Austin!

Judy, Judy, Judy....

I was tempted to do a Zmbeez (Pocock BioVent) drug advert with a Judy Garland image, but I just can't. A great talent with a sad end. So much heart!

We'll always have St. Louis, kid.

Warhol Open Season!

Roll out the barrel! NEWSgrist has a great post about the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts' declaration that artists can do what they will with Warhol imagery.

According to the NEWSgrist report:

The Warhol Foundation is "vigorous in enforcing our rights when it comes to people wanting to use Warhol's art for commercial purposes," Wachs said. But when it comes to artists and scholars, the rules are very different. "We permit artists to use and reference Warhol work without charge and without challenge." And "we let scholars use Warhol imagery for just a nominal fee to cover the cost of administering the rights." Wachs told me later, "We're Lessig when it comes to artists and scholars" and "Disney when it comes to commercial use."

O, happy day! Let the games begin!

'Adolf Warhol' Bill Pocock, 2006

An Artist's Statement

McCleary was making his Vancouver rounds the other day and came across Michael den Hertog's work. I like his artist's statement:

ARTIST'S STATEMENT

Approaching mid-life, in the middle of a successful but unsatisfying career in business, I quite literally gave up everything and began again.

The simple truth is that I had too long avoided my true calling, and once I surrendered to it, it very quickly began to reshape me. Fear turned to excitement, and faith in my creative process began to grow. I continue to risk everything in the making of my art, reaffirming my belief in what is possible, rather than what is known.

Having initially painted in more structured ways, I now work in a predominantly experimental manner that allows each painting to be a new adventure; a twisting, turning path of sweeping revisions toward an unknown outcome.

When asked why I paint, my most honest reply is simply for the joy of it. In a lifetime of searching, making art continues to be the path on which I experience most fully the immeasurable grace of being.

Michael den Hertog

McCleary's Nightmare

Centaur Gesture Study

Centaur gesture study.

I found it interesting to discover that early interpretations of the centuar myth - those born of the gods (Pholus and Chiron) - had full human bodies with only horse midsection and back legs.

I wonder why?

'Dolidrl' (Pocock BioVent series)

"Release the Hounds!"

'Release the Hounds!' Bill Pocock, 2006

I always wanted to say that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to inspect the grounds.

CollectorsArt.com

Kevin Temple has a thought-provoking article in this week's NOW Magazine. It's about a CollectorsArt.com art 'show' which happened last month at the Hudson's Bay Company. Y'know, the oil on canvas paintings that are the visual art equivalent of Muzak.

"From lively abstracts to classic florals full of rich color; from Tuscan landscapes to renditions of old masters, each painting is chosen for its exceptional value. Our keen eyed buyers travel the country and the world searching for quality art with a tenacity that can often be mistaken for obsession." quoth collectorsart.com.

I'm searching for a refined way to say 'Bullshit!'. Temple strikes at the heart of the matter:

"To be fair, customers who want an oil painting but lack the confidence to march into a dauntingly hip commercial gallery and pick one out can relax with Collectors Art in the knowledge that: 1) they will not feel out of their element, and 2) the painting will match the drapes."

Note the intimidatingly hip gallery sophistication.

Temple's second point doesn't hold up as all you need is the colour of any painting to match a room's colour scheme. His first point is all too true. It's hard for many people to tread the gallery's Sacred Ground, often not as lively and diverse as shown in the photo above. There is a definate snob factor present in many of the higher-end galleries which I attribute to:

• Mild tolerance for most visitors who are truly ignorant of art history and contemporary art.
  
• The huge gap between the number of visitors and potential buyers. Go to enough opening receptions and it becomes pretty obvious - to the discriminating eye ;) who's who.
  
• Trying to understand the academic speak of many artist statements written for art curators stuffed full of $5 words. Who wouldn't feel stupid reading those instruments of torture? "Bullshit boggles brains" goes the saying and was never truer than in the world of hustling art.
  
• The human psychological association of the snob pose with exclusivity and special privilege. For some art buyers, the snob factor helps to justify the price in the absence of reason.

The good news is that, in my observation, the best gallery owners and artists are some of the most welcoming, gentle people you can hope to find at an art opening. It's just good business. The opening, to my mind, is the best time to experience new art. While guarding against buying on a whim, you can at least enjoy the food and drink, take in other people's impressions of the art, and learn to discriminate between artcollector.com product and fine original art.

The Art of Muzak

The New Yorker has a lengthy article on everything Muzak. I love how at Muzak headquarters they have super hifi sound everywhere (even the parking lot), but not in the elevator.

"McKelvey, who is twenty-six years old, and has the kind of soft, persuasive voice that would sound good on late-night radio, told me....“The key is consistency. How did those songs connect? What story did they tell? Why is this song after that song, and why is that one after that one? When we make a program, we pay a lot of attention to the way songs segue. It’s not like songs on the radio, or songs on a CD. Take Armani Exchange. Shoppers there are looking for clothes that are hip and chic and cool. They’re twenty-five to thirty-five years old, and they want something to wear to a party or a club, and as they shop they want to feel like they’re already there. So you make the store sound like the coolest bar in town. You think about that when you pick the songs, and you pay special attention to the sequencing, and then you cross-fade and beat-match and never break the momentum, because you want the program to sound like a d.j.’s mix.” She went on, “For Ann Taylor, you do something completely different. The Ann Taylor woman is conservative, not edgy, and she really couldn’t care less about segues. She wants everything bright and positive and optimistic and uplifting, so you avoid offensive themes and lyrics, and you think about Sting and Celine Dion, and you leave a tiny space between the songs or gradually fade out and fade in.”