Makoto Aida

DRINK SAKE ALONE

As I sit down to write this review I'm drinking a Pacifico beer, the staple of San Francisco artist Tom Marioni, which brings to mind his artwork "The Act of Drinking beer with Friends is the Highest Form of Art." Thirty five years later, the japanese artist Makoto Aida is visiting San Francisco with the exhibition Drink Sake Alone. Social alienation aside, Aida's work in the gallery is not far from the sense of humor floated by the early California Conceptualists like Baldessari and Marioni. Yet Aida is a much wittier incarnation, focused on global concerns and political satire.

Aida's work is scattered about Lisa Dent's beautiful fourth floor gallery space across the street from the new Museum of African Diaspora. On the day I visited the gallery MoAD was having its grand opening which involved the sharp staccato of what might have been the drum section of a local high-school marching band. The noise was distracting at first as my wife Helena and I walked into the gallery, but it didn't take long to get drawn into the 14 works on view and leave the rest of the world behind.

Image Courtesy Lisa Dent Gallery

The bulk of the exhibition is comprised of a hand full of monitors surrounded by detritus, performance props, and the odd seating option (which hover in the ambiguous space between sculpture and furniture). I see this collection of 8 or so works in semi-installation format as cumulative. In other words, I read them not as individual objects but as signifiers that build sentences and culminate in a sort of story line. The feeling underlying the story alternates between irreverent and charming. Works like "Attemped Suicide Machine Version 3 ...and 4" (2001/2002) sit a few steps away from "The Video from a Man calling himself Bin Laden staying in Japan" (2005). In combination they remind me of a fact I picked up recently: more people die each year from suicide than in all the world's armed conflicts. It's not that you should read this from the works, but I offer it as a way to suggest that Aida is calling up global concerns here. Concerns like the specters of war, the surface glance of tourism, and a shared sense of international anxiety. And he wraps it all up with a kind of humor that makes it easier to think. Or at least more inviting.

There are also several bonus tracks surrounding the core of the exhibition. The first three are a ramshackle video kiosk in a closet, a sculpted bonsai (made in collaboration with Aida's former student Ai Kato), and a large painting that has a striking rapport with the Berkeley based artist Manuel Ocampo. Like most bonus tracks, some of these seem a bit unresolved in relation to the rest of the show, yet they offer some of the most compelling moments. The one exception is the large painting "Copyright?" (2005) which is set as the sight-line from the entrance to the gallery. Some of Aida's earlier sexually explicit endeavors are impressively seductive / sickening (each being of equal weight) which causes a kind of self conscious tension. This one carries all the juvenilia of Rat Fink meets MAD magazine. It could be that Aida's interest in addressing a domestic audience led him to appropriate local styles and attack an american icons, but I think Ocampo's oeuvre far outshines this effort.

Image Courtesy Lisa Dent Gallery

Helena's favorite piece in the show (also a bonus track) might be making fun of the historically liberal sensibilities of San Francisco. It's a white painted box on casters with a leash that ends in a waist sized belt - so that you can drag the whole thing behind you. Running alongside the leash is a microphone with a trigger button. Yell your activist chant into the mic and the box behind produces the sound of a crowd of people (with your voice) yelling the chant. The box is topped by a group of clumsy potato sack dolls with picket signs - all painted the same white as the box below. The nearby video documentation is a wonderful and strange conflation of classic activist footage and documentation of the artist and his wife walking through an art fair environment yelling chants to the echoing crowd in tow.

The last two works in the exhibition are actually made by six of Aida's students who collectively call themselves "Chim | Pom." (The line in the middle should be a arrow pointing upward). As it describes in the helpful gallery sheet written by Aida, the video by Chim Pom is something like MTV's "Jackass." We know Jackass for its bong-toking head-bashing stuntsmanship, which is here in spirit but there's someting very different, much more uncanny and disturbing, about a beautiful japanese girl dressed up for a night of dancing, sucking down pink liquid (ostensibly some kind of Ipecac formula) to the sounds of Japanese chugging chants. She pauses, looks up, flashes a peace sign and proceeds to vomit and then chug again. The rest of the Chim Pom work on the DVD (which you can buy for $20) is a collection of awkward disasters. There's something interesting there but as my friend Lucas said after we watched it in his living room. . .it's a little spastic.

Drink SAKE Alone is strange and at times uncomfortable, and it's probably the most interesting show I've ever seen at a commercial gallery in San Francisco. I want to thank Lisa Dent and her gallery director for their willingness to take on such a weird show. It's risky endeavors like this that make the alternative spaces in SF seem dull, despite their supposed freedom from market pressures.

http://www.lisadent.com

First Amendment in 2000 Pt. Font

"Fuck Bush" is not a good way to begin a conversation, especially one about U.S. politics. It's the kind of blunt political invective one might expect to see on bumper stickers, t-shirts, or hand-made protest signs in liberal parts of the country. But it is more emotional than some of the most direct anti-Bush slogans. During the Bush presidency it's been more common for me to encounter the phrase as an utterance. I have heard it spoken with a variety of emotional affects-with resignation, flippancy, indignation and outrage. Never has it been an invitation to discussion.

For me a "Fuck Bush" is always a conversation stopper. I mean where can you go with that? If I am of a similar heart and mind I might nod in agreement. Or if I feel differently I might say, "Fuck Bush? Fuck you!" Either way there's no discourse-no substantive exchange. In a particularly generous mood I might inquire, "Fuck Bush, Why do you say that?" to which I get either rolling eyeballs or a litany of accusations and offenses. Still, no discourse.

It's not to say that I think blunt political invectives don't have their place. Sometimes it's just how you feel, no ifs, ands, or buts. And casual conversation is probably the best place for it. Bumper stickers, t-shirts, and protest signs all seem to me exceedingly self-righteous and dogmatic-too permanent for sentiment and too narrow-minded to reflect the complexities of a given situation. But Kevin Slagle, the director of Ego Park Gallery, used another, rather effective, context for this kind of political expression with his piece entitled First Amendment in 2000 Pt. Font.

On the walls of his gallery, facing the street through the storefront window, Slagle painted the words Fuck Bush. The letters were billboard-sized, black on white, and of a style consistent with newspaper headlines. The work was created in commemoration of the 2000th U.S. soldier to be killed in Iraq. Its somber, matter-of-fact presentation combined with the emotional content caused me to do a double take--in a slow, delayed reaction, sort of way.

I met the artist and saw this piece for the first time simultaneously and was stuck for words. (I asked him if the noxious fumes from the paint he used were an intentional part of the work. He said yes.) Again, what can one say to such non-discursive sentiment? So I was surprised to find myself thinking about the piece long after I left. Several days later it occurred to me that the non-discursive quality of the work was part of its power, this heightened by the fact that it was in an art gallery. The over-used, but emotionally charged phrase was being stated as fact--as coolly as the war casualties are being reported. But who in the hell has ever heard of an emotional fact?

Perhaps because First Amendment in 2000 Pt. Font was executed in earnest and lacked the trite symbolism I associate with political art the phrase "Fuck Bush" was transformed for me--from a worn form of provocation or like-minded commiseration into a moving memorial. Slagle's anger and frustration mixed with a sense of loss and mourning to create a space for contemplation. There is a latent critique of the lack of political art (especially in galleries) embedded in Slagle's political message too, and in the end an invitation to further discussion, at least on this point. I am a fan of the subtle, complex, nuanced and often vexing creative expression I've come to expect from contemporary art. However it's refreshing to find work that is so straightforward, timely, and unapologetically political in a gallery setting--something I would like to see more of.

First Amendment in 2000 Pt. Font was on view at Ego Park Gallery for two weeks (Nov. 4th-18th, 2005). For more information about upcoming events and exhibitions visit http://www.egopark.org/

General Ideas

Jen writes: I finally made it to the Wattis yesterday to check out "General Ideas: Rethinking Conceptual Art, 1987 - 2005." I was struck by how perfectly this "idea" art fit into a gallery context -- almost as if it wouldn't have a life outside such an institution. As I wandered through the galleries I began to wonder about things like market forces, or other sorts of conditions, that might have caused the "Conceptual Art" of today to seem so different from the "dematerialized" art of the seventies. I can't say that Smithson's work was without its trace in the gallery, but here the work couldn't reference an equivalent to the Sprial Jetty or massive land pour.

Josh writes: When I looked at the show a few weeks ago, I wasn't really thinking of Smithson or any of the conceptual forefathers. I am not sure if it's even worth having a discussion about dematerialization, since it seems that everyone finds a way to sell something whether it's actual work or related ephemera- drawings, plans etc. This morning as I was lying in bed I found myself thinking about the show and how some of the works seemed like they were nothing more than ideas and other pieces actually go beyond being just an idea and actually make me lose sight of an artist trying to come up with a concept. Does that make sense?

Jen: Hold on! Dematerialized art is hardly non-existant today. The show seems to suggest a shift in what Conceptual Art is by its choices. However, I wonder why CCA would have just started a Social Practice department if art making was only about object making. I would argue that there are plenty of artists out there who are doing projects without selling ephemera.

Josh: I'm not saying that it's non-existent, but rather that many of the pioneers have managed to figure out a way to sell things related to their dematerialized practice. I just read that article on Rikrit in the New Yorker and it delves into how items from his performance/cooking pieces are now quite collectible. Imagine owning a wok with some crusty dried shrimp remnants. What a thrill. But let's get back to the show. What did you mean about the show suggesting a shift in what conceptual art is?

Jen: Rikrit is a good example of what this show is not about. The subtitle of this exhibition is "Rethinking Conceptual Art," which begs the question, what's different now? I think the shift that this show suggests is about where the core of the work exists. For me the "rethinking" relates to each of the artist's practice and what results from that. Almost all of the work in this exhibition was a complete story. You look at it, and you get it. I didn't have to wonder why I was staring at a wok with some dried shrimp remnants, only to later realize that actually that's not the "work." What was interesting was that this "Idea" show was comprised of gallery objects whose subject mattter might be based on an "idea." You know, conceptual art as subject matter. With the pieces in this show the loop was neatly closed. The work was made by the artist who was thinking about an idea, and placed in the gallery for my consumption. The experience of the work circulates in a very small space between gallery object and my eyes/brain a mere couple feet away. This made me question the premise of this show. It made me wonder how "conceptualism," which I have always associated with various experiential and non-object based art practices, is now being framed as a practice that maybe only references these ideas in subject matter.

Josh: Well put, but I have to confess that when I go look at work I'm rarely, if ever thinking about historical context and antecedents. Sure, occasionally I will see a piece and think to myself, "didn't so and so do a project like that 20 years ago." What I'm looking for are interesting works. I guess if a curator has an overarching aim of presenting work that fits within a theme then that could justify the inclusion of works that aren't independently interesting. What pieces did you find interesting?

Jen: If I am free to love the work and off duty from trying to bind it to the show's supposed theme, I'd say it's pretty easy to list off a bunch of interesting pieces. How could you not love the Andrea Fraser video "Little Frank and His Carp?" It was hilarious to see her 'making love' to a column in the Guggenheim Bilbao. Not to beat a dead horse, but how weirdly perfect was it that one of the first pieces you encounter upon entering the gallery is Francis Alys's video, "The Paradox of Praxis: sometimes making something leads to nothing." That's a pretty bold opening remark. Anyway, I really enjoyed encountering so much humour. I really liked the fake obituaries by Adam McEwen and "The Bible from Memory" by Emma Kay. What did you think of the show?

Josh: I thought there were hits and misses. I enjoyed the video where the guy kicks the ice until it dissolves. Rob Pruitt's list of art ideas was amusing and kind of pithy as it poked fun of lots of different types of projects. I wasn't quite sure why he put it in Snoop's vernacular. Someone later told me that Mr. Pruitt is African American, but that still doesn't necessarily explain the choice to me. I'm with you on Andrea Fraser. That Liam Gillick piece I don't get at all and in fact, the other day I was riding an escalator at Old Navy and I noticed a piece overhead very similar to his colored panels. Perhaps he was aping Old Navy, or could it have been the other way around. The Jennifer Bornstein piece is confounding. What's interesting about that?

Jen: Earlier in this conversation you mentioned that certain pieces in the exhibition actually go beyond being just an idea and actually make you lose sight of an artist trying to come up with a concept. I am curious what you meant by that?

Josh: I was thinking about pieces like that Palestinian artist who used surveillance cameras (not sure if they were existing cameras), and Jennifer Bornstein's project. I just really couldn't get beyond the artist's ideas. In other words, I found myself not thinking about various issues, but rather, "the artist was trying to do xyz..." Does that make sense?

Jen: Yes, that makes sense. So which projects do you think got beyond the idea. How did that function for you? For the "successful" pieces, what did it make you think about? Funny, I thought you'd like the surveillance camera piece by Emily Jacir. I was sort of immediately turned off by the whole web-cam thing, but then as I read through the text for each day I started getting drawn into the narrative. It made me want to read her diary or correspond with her. I loved her entry near the end of the piece that read: "Sometimes it is best to stop something before it reaches its inevitable conclustion." By the way, I was hoping to somehow reference that right at the end of our converstaion.

Josh: Jen, Well it looks like your hope has been fulfilled. How about we call it a day? Can we come back to it? I feel like I'm running out of steam in a strange way.

(Several days pass...)

Josh: Jen, I put this conversation down for a spell and now I'm trying to figure out how to pick it back up again. Hmm. Can we go back to Jennifer Bornstein, if I admit that I didn't read the text that accompanied those surveillance cam photos?

Jen: Sure, we can go back. It's interesting though that you were not drawn into the webcam piece. The sensibility kind of reminded me of what you do in your work. Or maybe it reminded me of Sophie Calle, and that reminded me of you. Anyway, what were you thinking about the Jennifer Bornstein piece?

Josh: I am not the most patient viewer and visually the webcam photos were not so arresting. Was the text on the photos themselves or on the wall? I now wished I would have looked closer. In regards to Jennifer B., I guess I just don't understand why that is in the show. Perhaps it fits within the framework of the show, but it just doesn't grab me in anyway. It doesn't make me think about much other than an artist thinking, "Hmm, I look kind of boyish, maybe I'll take some photos of myself with boys."

Jen: Yeah, I agree that it wasn't the most engaging piece in the show. I am curious to hear about a piece that you were drawn to....or did you think the show was a complete disaster?

Josh: Wait, let's not move on yet, even though this conversation is growing by the letter. So how does a piece like the photos with boy basketball players make it into the show if it's not so interesting? And I hardly think the show was a complete disaster. As I said before, there were hits and misses. It might be a futile viewing premise to hope for all hits. This is all subjective is it not?

Jen: I don't think I'm the best person to defend the curator's choice to include the Jennifer Bornstein work. I could probably come up with some sort of half-baked idea about why the work is included. By including it in this show with other work that supposedly rethinks Conceptual Art, the curator had some connection in mind. But unfortunately it seems that the connection isn't quite there for you nor me. It seems like you are really itching to say something here....something beyond asking what I think... Do tell.

Josh: Ok, maybe I have been dancing around this. But it feels like the Jennifer B. piece is included because she's in the dialogue, swims in certain circles etc. Years ago, when I first started making work and had not had any art education, I used to get into these conversations with a friend who was a curator at a pretty reputable space in Seattle. I was constantly in search of "interesting" works. I didn't know anything about historical antecedents and what anyone else was doing. I only wanted to see and do compelling projects. An MFA and nine or so years immersed in the art world, I'm after the same thing.

Jen: So, are you saying that her work isn't interesting? Maybe it's just that this context isn't the best match?!? It seems that you might be suggesting that this show is really more of a "who's who" of that artworld and that the objects were not carefully considered. I keep wanting to make this conversation be a critique that is all inclusive and that says something about what the curator is attempting to say.

Josh: I don't find her work interesting. I wouldn't go as far as saying the show is a "who's who," but rather that she is enough of someone to be included. My mention of myself in years past looking rather naively for things to be interesting was meant to illustrate the fact that I often have a hard time considering the curators aims and instead I find myself simply looking for compelling works. We have typed a lot of words. Do you think we have said much?

Jen: I think we've said as much as we can for now. Excuse the repeated reference, but I'd say that this conversation has come to its inevitable conclustion!

Writing Letters

Writing Letters is a three person show including work from Steve Powers, Joe Amherein, and Tauba Auerbach.

Laurie Lazer and Darryl Smith, the curators, describe the show as "exploring the physicality, psychology, aesthetics, politics and sociology of letter forms, words and signs." I am a sucker for anything that has to do with signs and fonts which means I've followed Steve Powers work for a few years now. Check out his humorous signs and products from the Street Market show at Deitch Projects and most recently, his work repainting signs on Coney Island with the Dreamland Artists Club. The Joe Amherein and Tauba Auerbach I hadn't heard of before, but I will be sure to remember their names now.

The Luggage Store show is great and has already been reviewed in many other places already, and photos are available so I'll just add my personal thoughts here. I went back twice, the second time bringing a fellow artist. I called a couple people after I went to the show and recommended they go have a look. I don't do this often. Again, I am an admitted sucker for signs and lettering, but the pieces are also playful and smart - for example Auerbach's modified typewriters were totally engaging while being fun and providing an interactive element. I sat down at her customized typewriter and noticed when I pressed the letter "a" the typewriter printed a letter "b", if I pressed "b" it typed "c" and so on. I couldn't help but keep typing, figuring out how to work around the modification to print various words. Another typewriter printed everything upside down and backwards. My friend and I spent about 15 minutes typing on each of them and the stacks of paper around them showed that we were not the only ones.

The work on the walls was beautiful and demonstrated a combination of wit and craft. Once the initial stun of seeing beautiful lines and nostalgic lettering in the various pieces began to subside, there was some word-play puzzle solving to do. Eventually I started to ask myself what it all meant? What were the artists trying to say? Ultimately I couldn't focus on my own question long enough to answer it. I was absorbed in looking at and engaging in the work. I decided, in this case, what it meant just didn't matter. As someone who is usually much more interested in content, this is a rare occurrence for me. Again, it might be a bias from my word-nerd tendencies, my love for vintage sign painting, hand lettering, and illustrations for decades past, but I really liked this one.

Writing Letters closes November 26th.

http://www.luggagestoregallery.org

Dream Blankets

Nov. 3rd - Dec. 3rd 2005.
Jacqueline Gordon's installation at "aLittleDisplay" is a particularly interesting show to review since I am subletting the living room in the house where the gallery resides...

Curator/Artist John Blanco has essentially turned his bedroom into a gallery space (he lives in the closet) to showcase a variety of work in this unique venue.

Living directly with art is a completely different experience than seeing it for 5 minutes at an opening, and this particular installation thrives on the viewer spending extended time inside the installation. Waking up to the low hum/ hiss of the whirring tape decks that feed this installation, was the first time a great and disorienting experience. Forgetting about the piece living next to me, I awoke one day during gallery hours, and for a moment was under a spell where the house was alive and making sound. To further this thought, I cannot imagine this piece working as well in a typical gallery setting, since it makes the most sense to me in the context of a home, something to be experienced in relaxation with friends.

The piece consists of a giant blanket-dome that has speakers woven into it. On an adjacent wall are a variety of walkmans attached to an amp that supplies the sound for the speakers within the blanket. The viewer is invited to play with the sound (there are several tapes on the floor that can be exchanged for those already in use on the wall) and can adjust volume/ unplug and replug items to create a distinctly different sound atmosphere, thereby altering the experience had within the yarn-den. They can then sit under the blanket/dome and enjoy (or cringe at) the soundscape that they have created. Though the sound is available to manipulate, it still has the essence of Jacqueline within, since the tapes are composed of sounds that she has crafted.

The installation is partially psychedelic, and partially comforting (in the sense of a sitting underneath a giant grandmother style afghan). Those two elements combined give a strange sense of disorientation while also creating (for lack of a better term) a 'chill' space.

Along with discovering this work, an added delight is the possibility to engage in conversation with John Blanco under the blanketed sky about his plans for 'aLittleDisplay' and it's concurrent artist residency (yet to get off it's feet), as well as whatever else "Dream Blankets" may lead you to while under its influence.

John Blanco on living with "Dream Blankets": I feel like the host, the host of the love den, the mediator or gatekeeper for Dream Blankets. It's been an added device to entertain, and to have some good conversations related to the piece. I just like having Jackie's art in my room, it's very satisfying-I'm living in it, I've made out under it, I sleep under it"

http://www.alittledisplay.com/
(see website for gallery hours and directions)