C’EST MOI!

Having just read the latest post of The Bitter Furies of Currado Malaspina I feel it behooves me to reveal the identity of at least one of the female figures featured in the now infamous piece.

La gamine est moi.

5797 WASHINGTON BOULEVARD

from the series "Even Sleepers Are Workers"

I have long eschewed the Los Angeles artworld’s penchant for kitschy marketing monikers which implicitly cede its aspirations toward seriousness in favor of New York.

MOCA’s Mondrian Mondays and its equally portentous Night of the Living Masters, LACMA’s Early Renaissance Singles Weekend, the Hammer’s Post-Modern/Post-Partum: New Mothers Paint exhibition are all cases in point.

The Culver City ArtWalk, a worthtwhile, and potentially even important event will take place on May 30th. Advertised as something resembling a daytime pub crawl with pony rides, I’m told by an insider that the reclusive David Schoffman may be offering a few drawings from his Even Sleepers Are Workers series at a gallery so newly minted it has yet to have a name.

This typically clandestine maneuver by Schoffman is designed, as usual, to discourage the idle , disengaged collector. Furthermore, I’m told, the drawings will only be found in the gallery’s back room and one must actively inquire about them at the desk.

Help confound Schoffman’s childish stratagem and visit the gallery at 5797 Washington Boulevard. Maybe we can coax a more public posture from the city’s most adored anchorite.

THE INDEX OF INTERRUPTED SINS

from "The Index of Interrupted Sins"

El Índice de Pecados Interrumpidos, the small diary found in Micah Carpentier’s Havana studio after he died is one of many diaries kept by this unusual artist. Together with The Book of Muffled Cries and Mis Divorcios, the Pecados is a highly stylized, idiosyncratic document of human weakness and moral frailty. An amateur philologist, Carpentier’s workable knowledge of biblical Hebrew allowed him to delve into the Iron Age conflation of sin with crime. As a lifelong citizen of communist Cuba, the resonances were clear.

The images above are from the section entitled Decalogue.

FORGIVEN

Malaspina, monotype 1998

In 1998 I spent three tumultuous weeks in Paris, cavorting with Currado Malaspina and his circle of debauched intellectuals. I am not terribly proud of that chapter of my life and yet it was unquestionably pivotal in my development as an artist.

In addition to drinking, arguing, philosphiyzing and submitting to unspeakable postures of venereal exertion I posed for the the now infamous series of monotypes that came to be known as “Les Élégies de Pré-Apparaît.”

I have since forgiven Malaspina for taking advantage of my innocence and I have finally come to an understanding that genius justifies all.

GREAT ART

Opening at Taylor de Cordoba,Culver City

I’m not typically an habitué of the Los Angeles vernissage scene, but a few weekends ago I found myself on a literal art crawl In the space of two hours I popped my head into Western Projects,Delphine Foveva, Cerasoli, Billy Shire, Black Cat, Koplin Del Rio, Roberts & Tilton, Boite, Taylor de Cordoba, Tin House and Perego Belfast. It was in the last gallery that I happened upon the most unusual and beautiful show.

In a group exhibition entitled Rosso/Muscolo, paintings, videos and photographs all loosely organized around the theme of commercialized sexuality presented an almost comprehensive overview of some of the most important contemporary artists who deal with this volatile subject. Scriabin, Malaspina, Fry, Schoffman, the art collective Mais Non! and several others each contributed 4 or 5 pieces.

The exhibition will soon travel to Barcelona, so if you live in the area, I highly recommend it.

Art professors are known for their coinages, their quotable aphorisms and the odd metaphors they use to describe vague ideas on aesthetics. One of my former Critical Theory lecturers once compared Foucault to an ungracious sand gnat who after finding itself reincarnated as a human being maintained its voracious appetite for blood. A painting teacher used to describe any and all use of the color orange as “the cascading arcs of maloderous vomit”.

My favorite wordsmith, David Schoffman, was known equally for his wit and  for his cruelty. He commonly referred to his graduate students as “the multitudes ignominiously paving a path toward labored anonymity.”

He has recently launched a website where he is peddling his drawings for $25 apiece.

Among the works are a series of nude self-portraits as seen from the back. I remember now how I loved him as much for his intellect as for his incredible physique.

I bought six drawings.

PAPER and PLASTIC

Like my erstwhile lover, Currado Malaspina, I am devoted to the art of drawing. Nothing is so immediate and virile. It’s a direct line into an artist’s weakest and strongest critical centers. My favorite contemporary artists who draw are Deleuze, Hirst, Malkovich, Schoffman, Salle and Gottesfeld.

The drawing above is from my former mentor and current enemy, David Schoffman.

Drôle de Type

I SAW THIS VIDEO AT THE AJAX INDEPENDENT FILM FESTIVAL IN AJAX UTAH LAST WEEKEND. I CONTACTED SCHOFFMAN, WHO STILL HOLDS A SLIGHT GRUDGE TOWARD ME, AND ASKED IF I COULD POST IT ON MY BLOG. HE RELUCTANTLY AGREED, THOUGH HE SEEMED FAR FROM INDIFFERENT.

HIS VIDEOS ARE ALWAYS FUNNY BUT ALSO VERY POIGNANT. HE’S MAD AT ME BECAUSE I SAID DURING AN INTERVIEW WITH CAHIERS DU CHARS THAT HE IS MUCH BETTER KNOWN IN FRANCE THAN IN THE UNITED STATES … LIKE JERRY LEWIS.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH JERRY LEWIS?

A Major Document

David Schoffman, who changed the course of my life through his teaching and through his example, continues to baffle me with his antic energy and vigorous intellect. The video above includes one of Schoffman’s famous short songs.

I cried till I laughed till I cried again.

It deserves a re-posting.

LARGESSE

Above is an example from a current series of works, based on drawings I did while spending six months in Italy on a Stenhauser-McCauley grant.