Wandering through Chelsea last week

I may be in Southwestern Missouri this week, but last week, I spent one day down in Chelsea, perusing in some galleries, and here are some of the highlights.

First was a stop in David Zwirner to catch the Raoul DeKeyser and Chris Ofili exhibits, both on view through Oct. 24 and both worth seeing.  

Ofili's Afropop drawings, which I didn't photograph were elegant and funny oversized doodles from the past several years.  These three photographs depict some of DeKeyser's recent paintings which are on exhibit with a selection of drawings from the late 70's and 80's.

 

 

The other highlight for me was the Magnus Plessen painting show at Barbara Gladstone, through Oct 24.  The gallery website has a good selection of exhibition and artwork photos.

 

 

Magnus Plessen

auld lang syne

When I lived in Denver, my apt/studio was very near one of the city's drunk tanks. The facility sat behind my place, in the same block and offered no shortage of amusements in my six years there. When I first moved in I was puzzled by the human sized dog catcher's truck that constantly pulled into the alley adjacent to my building. Eventually, the truck was upgraded to one that had six or eight individual cells in the cargo box, each with its own private door. In the early days of my residency, there were still relatively few folks who called the neighborhood home, and given its proximity to downtown, the coming of evening saw a mini exodus of peoples from the area. There were nights (particulary Fridays) when the scene took on the semblance of a zombie flick with inebriants making there way from points unknown to this central point as if called by some unknown beacon. One of my initial vivid memories of the area came on a walk to the nearby grocery store. One individual, propped up by a no parking sign had a very apocolyptic character. Bent at the waist (almost at 90 degrees), the top of his shoulder met the sign in such away that body and pole took on the appearance of a lower case 'h'. His arms hung straight to the ground. It was so weird. So very "Dawn of the Dead." He was one of the undead - on his way, but he needed just a wee rest before making it those last two blocks.
Those were good times, there on 11th Ave.
The photo above is from that time and I found it recently, thinking it a suitable New Year's Eve missive. I imagine the dumpster belonged to another apartment building on the block - which in and of itself would seem an excessive amount of beer boxes (not that the dumpster is completely full of Corona boxes. The fact that this dumpster sat in very close proximity to the drunk tank's back door put the scene over the top.
I have not explanation for this occurance. Perhaps it wasn't from some frat house apt, but an assertive hair of the dog treatment for the dt'ers.
Good Times. Happy New Year.

Synchronous found sculpture

I had to make a quick run into the city on Sunday morning to pick up some paintings, and I found this little cardboard and packing tape 'sculpture' on the street. It didn't smell like urine, so I thought it was good to go. The tape has a funky yellow hue that was just odd enough to catch my eye. It seemed a fortuitous find as for several days prior, I was laminating a stack of cardboard for use in a piece. My laminated stack is sitting in the background.

A day in June spent in Manhattan

The view from our booth at Sammy's Noodles.

Hometown boosterism

Feral sculpture in Chelsea.

Stopped in quickly to vist it MOMA. The galleries were pulsing madly with the strobing of camera flashes. I had my camer with me, so I too chose to shoot a few things, sans flash.


This Ryman represents all that is or needs to be in painting.

This Rothko evoked a wonderful slap to the head, in a disarming way. I imagine it's the greater plum field that transported me back to my visits to the chapel in Houston. The voices in my head were quelled briefly while standing before this piece.