Here’s To a
Fucking Awesome Labor Day
I’m off to the homeland for a bit…
In the mean time I’ve posted a few new things in attempts to kick my own personal butt upon return….
+ trying to catch up on my reading….
Thanks.
remnants of the Brooklyn Giglio Festival
Wayne Thiebaud: A Paintings Retropective Whitney Museum
I like Wayne Thiebaud. I thought this was going to be my summer painting show. But somehow, something in the work did not entirely engage me. He is a beautiful painter, but his style leans toward the academic. With the exception of his mid-sixties food series(which he is still best known for)his subject matter is too reminiscent of others from that era. I saw shades of Jim Dine and lots of Richard Diebenkorn (especially in his San Francisco street landscapes).
I felt a little sad, because I respect his work immensely. I just didn’t have any epiphanies as I did when I saw the Diebenkorn retrospective a few years ago, or my mild obsession last summer when I saw Alice Neel’s work numerous times. Not really a disappointment, but it somehow just didn’t resonate beyond the door.
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Another thing that didn’t make it out the door were photos of the Mies van der Rohe architecture exhibit. Upon entering the Mies chamber, there was a strange feeling of being in a Wings Of Desire sub plot. Lots of low level lighting, immense black and white photos and a strange hush in the room. I was busted almost immediately for trying to take photos. Photos I might add would not have come out anyway with the lighting situation. All the same it put a damper on my evening and I decided to come back and see more of Mies some other time.
*[please note: Thiebaud has a beautiful palette of color that he works with, and the poor reproductions I have put up here really don’t do justice to his work, just thought I would mention that it is my ill handy work, not his].
Another Random Dinnertime Parade
Occasionally on our block you can be woken out of the daze you are in by the sound of heralding trumpets and a bugle core,announcing the arrival of another neighborhood parade.
These little events, which last as long as it takes a group of 30 or so people to walk the stretch of Union, Metropolitan and then Lorimor are always police escorted and sure to bring traffic to a dead crawl.
The girl who cuts my hair grew up here. I asked her the secret meaning behind all the shenanigans. “Hell if I know”, she replied.
She said she never really figured it out, and frankly after being around for almost 30 years she was pretty much over them. I guess if you were not Italian American, who could blame you at that point.
All the same, I still get a kick of these occasional displays trumpeting the “Saint of the Day”, breaking the monotony of the rumbling semi-truck traffic and showcasing what a festive bunch live around these here parts.
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