unfathomable lack of foresight

What is up with the Republicans in the house?!  They are most definitely cutting their noses to spite their faces.  I guess they are just comfortable with the role of looser.  Seriously, instead of extending the payroll taxes a mere two months like their semi-intelligent counterparts in the Senate agreed to, they rather remain in the limelight of a circus whose big tent is sure to collapse over their stupid heads. It is almost unbelievable.

somewhat lonelier

The world seems a little lonelier today that fellow atheist Christopher Hitchens finally lost his battle with cancer and its complications.  For months I’ve been meaning to send him a fan letter thanking him for being so outspoken on the subject of god; a welcome voice in this country so garrulous with what often sounds like meaningless blather on the subject of (a Christian) god.  I guess I lost my chance.

Today, while swimming and thinking that I would never again hear his beautifully accented eloquent English prose vehemently and humorously denouncing or praising this or that, I thought of how final, regardless of one’s legacy, death really is. 

I’ll miss his voice.

delicious irony

What was it that Marx said?  History always repeats itself, first as tragedy and then as farce...  ...something like that...  

As much as I hate to see the stock market gyrate every time Angela Merkel says something, it is actually funny, not as in "Hah hah", to think of the fate of Europe depending on Germany.  How on earth did they fuck this up?

As the dust settles, a cold new Europe with Germany in charge will emerge

not quite

Dear President Obama, 

You're no Teddy Roosevelt.  That idiot Palin wasn't when "her" media started invoking his name in conjunction with hers; and, most definitely, neither are you.  

...Ghad may this election season end soon!

A pox on all their houses

Unfortunately it is our house they are demolishing--- well, that's not accurate, this government does not demolish, it chips away. Unlike Neil Young's famous song, it thinks it is better to fade away than to burn out... It certainly does not believe in productive building.   ...bad times.

social responsibility, personal choice, and one more neutered cat

Cat, Andy Warhol

Two uncontrolled breeding cats create the following:

Two litters a year... at a survival rate of 2.8 kittens per litter with continued breeding.

• 12 Cats the first year.
• 66 Cats the second year.
• 2,201 Cats in the third year.
• 3,822 Cats in the fourth year.
• 12,680 Cats in the fifth year and so on.
• Multiplying to a staggering 80,399,780 cats in the tenth year.

Two months ago a tame and friendly cat came by the house; not a rare thing since our yard functions as a public cat highway.  This cat, however, I had never seen before, and I noticed that he was a tom.  Immediately, my annoying overly developed sense of social responsibility started tingling, only to wake my even more annoying sense of anxious guilt. What should I do with this tomcat before he breeds and gives rise to hundreds of more toms?  ... as if anything I did could really ameliorate the feral cat overpopulation problem that exists...  ...a friend of mine is currently feeding and trying to catch and neuter and perhaps domesticate several feral kittens living near her office...

I offered the tom some food.  He ate it, but not ravenously, giving me hope that he had a home and was just a neighbor’s new cat that was going to be neutered soon.  Tomtom, as I eventually came to call him, ate, disappeared, and in my mind went home to be “tutored”.

 

I was wrong.  Tomtom showed up a few weeks later, this time with bigger balls and still the same sweet disposition.  I was heartbroken to know that he was still wandering around, and doing it as a whole cat.  I fed him again and decided to have him neutered.  As I was about to put him in the car to go to the vet, my "social self" intervened and instead I made a poster inquiring if he belonged to anyone.  My husband, at some point, when we were having a heated discussion over something or other, called my poster “offensive” while I think of it as plain “straight-fucking-forward”.

I stuck the poster at the various entry points of our neighborhood and sent out a mass email to my neighbors inquiring about the cat.  I immediately heard from two people who thanked me for being a responsible neighbor, and another one who had also been feeding him and with whom I have since exchanged many friendly emails about our mutual love for cats and their crazy ways.

 I am not a patient woman, and my sense of anxiety got the better of me two days later when Tomtom showed up again.  I assumed he didn't belong to anybody, took him to the vet for “the works”, and brought him home the next day.   He immediately disappeared, and I fretted believing I had been instrumental in somehow killing him.  But as cats are wont to do, he sauntered over hungry two days later.  Since then he has adopted our house as home-base and comes to eat, voraciously, every few hours.  He hangs around single-mindedly, as only cats can do, hunting and torturing small prey which, until today, he treated as toys.  

Two days ago he made our relationship official by killing a baby chipmunk and offering it to us by leaving it on our welcome mat.  I gave it a simple burial: from earth to earth and dust to dust….  Yesterday he found a chicken bone somewhere and left it for me in the exact same place he had left the baby chipmunk…

And today, as I was about to step out the door, there he was on our welcome mat, his safe place, with a dead very young squirrel to show me.  I had never seen this young a squirrel: pre-bushy tailed....  I told Tomtom "good boy" and quickly closed the door lest he decided to bring the little corpse into the house.  He toyed with it for a very short while and then proceeded to eat the whole thing, starting with the limbs.   This play of nature is truly horrible to watch; yet it is fascinating to see how predators learn to kill their prey.  Since Tomtom will naturally kill these little creatures unless I keep him inside, I am glad he eats them rather than just leave them to rot.

Incidentally, his old owner did call me on the night after I had him neutered and offered to pay the vet bill.  In fact, she had him scheduled to be neutered on the day he disappeared from her house.  She told me she no longer wanted him, but felt responsible.  It was nice of her to call, and we split the bill.

After Scruffy died, and with Hidey being 19, Curtis and I were looking forward to eventually doing more traveling without having little lives to worry about while we were gone.  I really wasn't looking forward to becoming the caretaker of a new cat.  The vet recently asked me if I was going to adopt new cats after Hidey was gone, and I told her that though I inexplicably love the crazy beasts, I did not want any for the foreseeable future. At the time, I was also applying for a job, which if I had gotten, I would not have had time to devote to bonding with any animal.  But since Mary Nan has taken care of our cats for the past 23 or so years, it was surprisingly sad to think that I might not see her again in that capacity (!)  Well, I didn't get the job and now have nothing but time.  And though I did not go searching, cats happen; and Tomtom happened.

After 19 years of having indoor-only cats, we now find ourselves sharing our lives with this wild outdoor/indoor kitty.  And he is wild.  He hunts all day, smells of wilderness, and although sweet and extremely excited to see us every time he does, Tomtom’s heart belongs to the great outdoors, and we have to get used to all the uncertainties that come with that.  That's always tough for me since I'd like to know that he is safe at all times...

Before Hidey and Scruffy, we did share our lives with Leany, another "wild" cat.  Leany came to us as an older mystery; he was 7 years old, already  neutered, and with an inexplicable 22 caliber bullet lodged in his lung, two millimeters from his heart.  The bullet had been in him for so long he did not even have a scar at its entry point, wherever that might have been on his fuzzy body. Leany was an amazing outdoor cat that made a very deliberate choice to come live with us.  He was an alpha cat that decided to take over the neighborhood the minute we moved here with him.  He got into so many fights we used to call him Mohamed Aleany.

Tomtom is another thing altogether.  He's not so alpha and I've yet to see him fight with the neighborhood cats.  He is about 8 months old, and he very much just happens.  Every morning he bolts out the door to greet the day as if it were a total mystery with brand new wonders made just for him.  He is sweet and friendly, and willful. He bites us humans when he does not get his way and gets frustrated, and especially when Hidey hisses at him, which is every time she sees him.  Tommy is terrified of Hidey, who is not at all happy to have to share her space with him.  I am glad he does not mess with her, for he is young and vital to her old and crabby, and he is three of her.   I wish, however, that he would respect her without being so afraid. ...And I wish Hidey would stop being so territorial and stop screaming every time she sees him.  I might as well wish for a nation-wide public transportation system in America...

Well, it’s the beginning of a whole new “adventure”; and I have fallen wildly in love with this blond little piece of wilderness that has walked into our lives.  Welcome home Tomás.

but is it really art?

An artist (Christoph Büchel) disguised (though artist and gallery use the word “initiate”) a high powered gallery in London (Hauser and Wirth) into a free community center with rooms dedicated to “computer classes, prayer, and counseling”, and complete with “locker room and gym”.   As a free Community Center in Piccadilly, the piece of real estate (that was still in reality Hauser and Wirth) was used for all kinds of community activities ranging from neo-natal yoga to classes in aromatherapy and Algerian baking.  It was attended qua community center by a certain class of people who were unaware that it was also attended, “un-qua” community center, by a completely different set and class of people: the art spectator class.  

Was this "initiation" really art? 

To quote a quote by Andrea Frazier quoted in the review I read about this, “the institution of art lives immaterially in the head of anyone who recognizes it.”  Art or “institution of art”: how does one go about recognizing the Picadilly Community Center as such?  What clues other than prior knowledge of the gallery location and “project initiation” point to the fact that this transformation is indeed art to the uninitiated?  What on earth other than arrogant inside knowledge leads this immaterial action to be recognized as such?  And if art it is, and art it is since it is in the system, what is it about? 

According to author Alex Farquharson, “The Piccadilly community Center was an extraordinary installation…but ultimately it did not rise to the social and political challenges facing Britain today.”   Am I to conclude that by initiating an unstable environment where “society’s most vulnerable and least visible” come unknowingly into contact with affluent enfranchised gallerygoers, while affluent enfranchised gallerygoers sometimes feel uncomfortable when the Center is in full swing, the artist is somehow making a statement about the state of the global economy and about the disenfranchised?  Am I to conclude that this was a piece about global recession, over-leveraging, and the fall-out that comes from governments spending beyond budgetary constraints?  

Sorry, no can see.  What I see is a morally dubious action by players acting in an over-bloated market that still has not caught down to economic reality.  But since its players seem to come from the classes that do not feel economic downturns, this market might remain hot and putting out this kind of "initiative" for quite a while to come.  The Piccadilly Community Center might have been art, but not any art I care to see.  

now we're talking

Llyn Foulkes, Deliverance

Now this, this is information, unlike the lack thereof to which I was referring to here.

cutting the fat

Joseph Beuys, Fat Chair

I must admit that in "polite society" the title of my last blog entry is a bit jarring.  Jarring as it might be, it represents my disdain for meaningless "information" in the widest possible definition of that word.  In my dealings with people and the world, for better or worse, I like to cut to the chase.  Unfortunately, I live in a part of the world, the American South, where cutting to the chase is viewed, at best, with weariness (a fact confirmed by a very good friend of mine who was born and raised here and left for the straightforward shores of New York City). 

Recently I got fired from my job.  Well, technically, I was "not hired" and it wasn't so recently.  I had worked part-time at a job that turned into full-time for which I was asked to apply to by my chairman.  I was indeed given the option of keeping my part-time job; but to cut to the chase, I was tired of being treated like shit and figured, erroneously, that if I worked full-time at it, I'd rediscover the pride I once felt about the place.  

Being treated "like shit" should not have come as a surprise, for part-time teaching jobs are by nature shitty and I should have taken it as a given.  But given the nature of the place, and the heady plans we had for it when "we", and I was very much involved at the time, set up the program, I never got used to the reality that, as the years went by, working conditions deteriorated rather than improved, as planned, through the embodiment of the principles I thought the place purported to be built upon and to uphold.  Principles having to do with working artists teaching, REALLY teaching, in the grandest and widest definition of this word, and expanding young minds through the arts and the humanities rather than by setting up a very average high school with art as an after school activity (which is in essence what happened).

As "working conditions deteriorated", I did voice my displeasure; and yes, I did it publicly (if one could possibly call my blog public); a no-no in contemporary society that I knew could bite me in the ass.  But already at the time, voicing my opinion in the only way I was allowed to and knew how had become as important to me as the job. Apparently, thanks to the magic of Google, my blog really is public, and it ruffled feathers up high, sealing my fate; though nothing was told to me directly at the time, or even now.  

Once I was in the running to keep doing my job in a full-time capacity, the blog and my vociferous verbal voicing of opinion did indeed bite me.  And although I "made it" to the final phase of the job search, there was pressure from above to get rid of me; so I had no real chance from the very beginning.  What rankles is all the bullshit I had to go through to get that final slap on the face. Truthfully, I would have liked it better if when I first publicly voiced my opinion, "they" had given me the option of rescinding it or leaving; but those are not the dance steps practiced here.  

I was told that although I was applying for a ten month position, I was fired (ok, “not hired”) because I did not readily acquiesce to teaching 9th and 10th graders in summer (notice: not a legal part of the position).  If only I had the temperament, I would have, like my cousin suggested that I do, hired a lawyer to punch holes though their decision and get compensated for it.  But at that point, hell, fuck it.  

This is an old story that apparently I am still “processing"....  ...And I had set out to write a blog about values and cutting the fat....  During my job interview, which was being conducted by what at one point I considered friends, I was specifically told these words: "Katya, I know you will come to me when you see something you think is bullshit and you will tell me; and I value that."  Well, I did; and I always do.

a clear case of dick sucking

I've always loved a lot of Ed Ruscha's work.  Just the other day I was commenting to friends, while discussing the merits of attending "visiting artist" lectures, on how a no-nonsense kind of guy he seemed to be when I saw him speak at the Hirshhorn once upon a time.  Then, I didn't think I got much insight into his work from his lecture; today, I think my memories of the lecture make sense in light of the work and vice versa.  This interview (Ed Ruscha, The Golden State: an interview with Bob Monk; AIA Oct 2011) however is a true waste of time, paper and eyesight.  There is no insight to be had.  It's a clear case of one guy sucking up to another one who is not giving away much of anything.

cheesy but fun

I was looking to find some images of Larry Bells' work after reading an article by Faye Hirsch about some prints he made in the 70's that he does not particularly like but likes to see being shown precisely because he does not like them (image above).  And upon coming to his site I groaned in view of all it's gimmicky, in the way the internet can be gimmicky, moving parts.  There is so much about the internet I find visually offensive, but somehow this works for me: Larry Bell

I must be loosing it.

Art and 9/11

I first heard snippets of Steve Reich's WTC 9/11 with the Kronos Quartet on Performance Today while driving to the pool for my mid-morning swim.  After playing a few minutes of the piece, Fred Child went on to defend the use of the cover picture which had, apparently, been under critical attack.

I always think it interesting when controversy erupts over images, so after swimming I googled it to see what the whole hoopla was about. It was about this:



I thought the photograph was beautiful and poignant and wrote to Child to thank him for defending it.  He wrote back.  The following is the exchange:

 Hi Katya,

Thanks for your thoughtful email -- I very much appreciate your distinction between "beautiful" and "pretty."  I hear from some listeners who only want to hear pretty music.  To me, that's a rather silly limitation on the full expressive power of the art form.  And I agree, Steve Reich's piece brings us face to face with the realities of that awful day.  We may not want to remember, but we can NEVER forget.

All the best,

Fred Child

Host of Performance Today

---

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Sent: Tuesday, July 26, 2011 5:55 PM
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Form: Performance Today Contact Form

Referring URL: http://performancetoday.publicradio.org/

Q: Your question:

A: Dear Fred,

Thanks for playing snippets of Steve Reich’s WTC 9/11 disc. And thanks for defending the cover photo. People who call it “sensational” seem to be resorting to a really annoying clichéd reaction. The same kind of reaction in which one claims not to look at a roadside accident on the grounds that they are “above that sort of thing”. Or maybe, if I think of it more charitably, they just don’t want to face the reality that the attackers were not merely bound on attacking the United States, but they were bound on doing it, precisely, sensationally. Any depiction of the attacks has to be able to stand up to that and overcome it. This cover does that. It is beautiful; and that is not to say that it is pretty. The manipulation of the original picture seems to invoke the right amount of distance between now and the event to allow us to face it again. And we must keep facing it, lest we forget. And we can’t forget. Reich’s album will be one more way to remember. The snippe ts I heard of the music were really beautiful (again, not pretty) and haunting. And the little you played of it took me right back to that horrible day; certainly not a good thing, but one we must forever revisit.

Thanks,
Katya Cohen

Q: May American Public Media send you e-mail regarding its programs or Web sites?
A: Yes

Well, 9/11/11 has arrived.  The clock ticked 8am and the sounds emanating from my radio turned, like Cinderella's chariot to pumpkin, from classical music to talk.  NPR informed me that they would, all day, be transmitting, live, the rituals of remembrance engaged in today by western nations (I think they said “all over the world”).  I’m not one for rituals, so I suppose this blog is my way of doing it... sort of.

When I heard Child's commentary on the radio, I thought the argument over the cover was over; but apparently it wasn't.  It seems that the controversy over Reich's album cover has kept going and he finally opted for changing the cover to this:

People, all kinds of people (and censorship, which comes in all forms and degrees), will never cease to amaze and, yes, enrage me.

Remember.

gibberish quote of the day

ART AS RESEARCH, RESEARCH AS ART: This is a powerful new force in contemporary culture, its development partly driven by a momentous shift in art education, where scholarly methodologies and knowledge production are increasingly emphasized.
Roelstraete, Dieter. Forest for the Trees. Artforum September 2011: 322-327


Notice the use of the word "momentous".  Seriously, nothing about art education can possibly be seen as momentous at this moment in history.  Of course, I might be proven very wrong in the future; but I think the Arab Spring, the turmoil with the European Union, the possible dissolution of the Euro, and the laying of the ground for a prolonged period of American stagnation might prove to be a little more "momentous".  Moreover, any art driven by shifts in "art education" should be viewed with extreme suspicion.


...not to mention that this is by no means a new trend- I've been reading and seeing "art as research" (which all too often looks like bad art and in no way resembles good research) for years now; maybe art educators just picked up on it... 

Seriously???!!

Boy, I'd like to see this demographic...  

On second thought, maybe not. 

the one constant

...Although it's still August and temperatures have been in the mid to upper nineties, and were that way even last night at 8pm, today I woke up to the unmistakable signs of the inevitability of fall in the way the air feels.  It feels lighter and the light is clearer.  It makes walking outside so very easy.  But it brings with it the certainty of winter... and I die a little.... 

Wouldn't it be amazing...

... if the nation and (thus) its leaders became courageous once more and instituted a flat tax rate just to see what would happen...  alas, courage is not in the forecast; bankruptcy seems to be the flavor of the day.

A Lesson in Perspective from Ai Wei Wei

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Mona Lisa

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Berne

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Hong Kong

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Eiffel Tower

Eu  Lição em Perspectiva com espirito de Ai  Villa Verde

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Tienanmen

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  San Marco

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  White House

Eu  Lição em Perspectiva com espirito de Ai  Villa Verde

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Red Square

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Tibet

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Tour Eiffel

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Maison Blanche

Eu  Lição em Perspectiva com espirito de Ai  Villa Verde

Ai Wei Wei   Study in Perspective  Tienanmen

All kidding aside, I hope the men lives a long and healthy life doing what he does best, which is making great art that speaks to his condition and that of his fellow men (people).

ahead with the project of making art again

Katya Cohen
line etching

I have to stop thinking in terms of my reality; that is, the context, time, and space in which I currently find myself.  I have to go back to thinking like I used to 15 years ago; back to thinking solely in terms of the contextual existence of the project.  The here and now are quite irrelevant.

Thought for the day

Commission Completed

My parents-in-law commissioned a painting from me a million years ago--- I finally had time to finish it and photograph it.  They (my parents-in-law) spent a large part of their lives living in Africa.

sad day

Woke up this morning... Radio on.  Last flight of the Shuttle. Reporter reports: "There are no other shuttles, the last two are being prepared for display in museums.  If something happens to Atlantis while the astronauts are in the Space Station, they will have to wait for Russian rockets to come get them".

Well, that's that.  Could there possibly be a more poignant metaphor for the end of American hegemony.  President Kennedy, time to roll over in your grave.

Secret to Life?

David Hockney
Piscine Avec Trois Bleus, 1978  colored and pressed paper pulp 72x85 1/2 in

....So was putting my shoes on at the gym, and an old (er) woman came up and asked if I had been swimming “all this time”.  I asked her, why, had she seen me come in?  She had; and she said she was about to go swim herself.  Since she had on cool pink weight-lifting gloves, I asked her if she had been lifting weights.  She said that yes. She also said that she and her husband come together and do a Tai Chi routine.  I excitedly asked if the Tai Chi teacher was back, since last I heard there was no more Tai Chi class, and I've always wanted to try taking one.  She said that no, but that her husband and she knew how to do it, so they did a couple of routines together.  After that, she told me, they go into the basketball court to "do a little dancing; ball room dancing, you know (?)".  I thought of Axel and how she used to ballroom dance, and asked if there was a class for that. She said, “No, we do it by ourselves”.  After dancing, they go up to the exercise machines, where, she told me, her husband lifts weights and she, poopooing herself, lifts just a little.  She then said they swim together to stretch out "you know".  I asked if they did this everyday.  She said, “Oh no!  Just three times a week, it takes half a day to do all this!”

--- I left wondering if this was the secret to life...  It certainly is their secret...

Losing Something and Moving On

Will etching

Sayre's Law states, in a formulation quoted by Charles Philip Issawi: "In any dispute the intensity of feeling is inversely proportional to the value of the stakes at issue." By way of corollary, it adds: "That is why academic politics are so bitter." Sayre's law is named after Wallace Stanley Sayre (1905-1972), U.S. political scientist and professor at Columbia University.  On 20 December 1973, the Wall Street Journal quoted Sayre as: "Academic politics is the most vicious and bitter form of politics, because the stakes are so low."

It has been a tough four months in which I have lived in limbo.    My part-time job was turned into a full-time position around March.  I applied for it.  And it has taken the powers that be four months to tell me the results of their search.  I do not do limbo very well.

For the past twelve years I have worked part-time within an institution, but full-time within the context in which I worked, which was teaching printmaking and art.  I set up a printmaking program within a new school, made it mine, let it evolve into conforming with and enhancing the parameters of the department within which it existed, and loved every moment in which I saw kids fall in love with making art, and surprisingly enough because not everybody likes it, making prints.  Today, that thing I gave so much of myself to create was taken away form me.  I did not get the position.

It has been hard on me because it is not as if I was applying anonymously for an anonymous job.  I could have more easily handled that.  It has been a tough four months because, not only was I applying for my job, I was doing the job while applying for it.  Granted, the scope of the full-time position is much greater than that of my part-time job; but because I had been with the institution from its inception, when part-time jobs functioned differently, I knew what was involved in the position and was looking forward to the challenge of working full-time.

Long ago, I had chosen to teach part-time because I thought that in doing so, I would have time to continue making art while earning some money.  I was indeed able to make some art over these years; but even when it is part-time, teaching is full-time.  It is all-consuming, especially teaching at the level I was doing it.  I have missed being totally immersed in my art work, but I have loved the teaching.

I can’t begin to describe how painful it has been to have something which I felt was so integrally part of who I am wrenched away from me.  To use a cliché, it’s as if a piece of my gut has been ripped off. 

Apparently (or so I was told), I am a great teacher of printmaking, as exemplified by the work that follows and by the awards my kids were always getting, and by the marketplace: strangers asked to buy their prints.  Also, apparently, I am a great teacher of art; for although I was paid to teach printmaking, I've always refused to only teach the mechanics of the thing without having the kids investigate the meaning and context of art by giving them extra work which they did willingly.  I always thought that was part of the mandate of the program.  And, apparently once more, I am a great artist.  It seems that what I am lacking is what it takes to be a good citizen of the Governor School for the Arts and no longer much Humanities.  And after two years (1/16/13), I can safely say that I proudly agree with that assessment, I really was the wrong person for that job though as Lou Reed says, “Don’t believe anything your hear and half of what you see.”  Maybe that comes with the territory of wanting to be an artist and seeing through the bullshit, and in my case, voicing it. 

I will miss the teaching, it comes naturally to me; but I will finally have enough time to seriously investigate pictorial ideas in the studio again, and that too is like breathing.  The last time I investigated ideas intensely in the studio was years ago when I was as fully unemployed as I am once again.  This hurts right now, but it is a good thing.  Here’s to new beginnings...

What follows is a tiny tiny fraction of student prints I have collected over the years- I love looking at them.  I chose these because they were readily available in my computer: 

Zeke etching

Sydney etching

Sydney etching

Sydney etching

Josh linocut

Marie linocut

Seth linocut

Emma etching

Emma etching

Madeline etching

Morna Etching

Laura lithograph

Lisa lithograph

Celie reduction linocut

Eliza reduction linocut

Whitney reduction linocut

Ross etching

Sophia etching

Laura lithograph