Seen In Chelsea While Everyone Was in Miami

gallery

carl ostendarp

Top: Unnamed hippie gallery that doesn't allow photos (or so they told me after this was taken)--presumably so you will not take your fuzzy 45 degree angle snapshots and correct them in a computer and sell the resulting imperfect images as prints on a blanket out on the street. Or because soul-capturing photos destroy the gallery's contemplative pan-cultural vibe (if you can ignore the half-drunk cocktails and cigarette butts on the stairs outside). These people have been sending me press releases for their shows so I take that as an implied waiver of any "no publicity" rule.

Bottom: Image in the back room of the Carl Ostendarp retrospective at Elizabeth Dee. Linguists might call this painting a nugatory declarative illocutionary speech act, in that it answers the question "who is this painting by?" without giving any actual information.

Tourist Cabins on Park Avenue

Donna Dennis

Donna Dennis, Tourist Cabins on Park Avenue, 2007. This is not as cool as the kids who lived in a furnished squat inside the Providence Mall, or the J. G. Ballard story about the man who eked out a Robinson Crusoe-like existence in a gap between freeways, but it does qualify as an example of interstitial architecture. When I was a kid I used to drive by a real estate office in a vacant lot that looked like this cabin. I always used to imagine living in it. As an adult I've spent some time in oversized closets--but not on traffic medians. (Photo-Peter Mauss/ESTO)

Update: Ha, guess I should have clarified that the cabins are artworks. Simon Sellars at Ballardian has more thoughts on them in the context of urban slippage zones: "In an over-commodified, all-seeing, all devouring age in which every point on the map seems to have been articulated, colonised and claimed, the inarticulate nature of these ‘blurred zones’ generates a readymade, real-world wormhole, one foot within reality, the other foot without."

Carl D'Alvia

Carl D

An editioned resin sculpture. Look closely and you see two monkeys embracing; fur covers their bodies and joins them together and merges with the base, like some horrible Telepod accident from The Fly. But sensuous too--D'Alvia's careful carving of the strands of fur in the original wax (or clay?) model makes the work ecstatic rather than merely grotesque.