I was going to comment on the creepy new interview with Soon Yi Previn, but after delving into her family history, I’m disgusted with all of the players, including that stupid Ronan, who wears blue contact lenses to look more like Frank Sinatra.

Fuck these awful people, especially Mia Farrow, who adopted Asian children like salted peanuts, even getting a congressman to change US adoption law to accommodate her colonialist agenda. Farrow has adopted ten children and given birth to four, married three powerful men who were old enough to be her father, and I think we can say it’s been a mess.

In her interview, Soon Yi makes it clear that she hates Mia, who adopted her from Korea when she was 5 years old. Mia is portrayed as an abusive lunatic. Luckily, Woody Allen came along and started taking an interest in Soon Yi when she was in the 11th grade and they began going to Knicks games together.

One day, Woody showed Soon Yi a Bergman movie (not making this up!) and then they kissed. One thing led to another, and you know, the heart wants what it wants.

But Soon Yi thought it was only a fling. Fucking mom’s boyfriend was probably meant to piss her off, not drive her insane. Next thing you know, the nude spreadeagled Polaroids, the accusations of molesting another Farrow daughter, and therapy for 4 year old Ronan, who either did or didn’t hate his daddy, who is either Woody or Frank Sinatra.

I’m telling you, these people are monsters. Soon Yi and Woody are the parents of two adopted daughters, who are now in their teens and endured a battery of “the best tennis lessons, piano, guitar, ballet classes, whatever.” Soon Yi will have to wait until they give their own interviews to hear the final verdict on her mothering skills.

Meanwhile, she spends her days doing Pilates, going to museums with her driver, and shopping for clothes.

Since the interview was published, Ronan and six other siblings released a statement defending their mother, and Dylan reminded people that Woody molested her. Ronan, coincidentally, is making a career out of outing molesters. It’s like in this family, you are either a Molester or Molestee. Or Frank Sinatra’s love child.

Yes, Woody Allen is a fucker and one I’ve never forgiven for having sex with Soon Yi. She appears to be a hateful spoiled creature who is frighteningly lacking in empathy and not sharp enough to keep her elderly husband away from their nubile daughters. Hello, Soon Yi? Remember that Bergman movie?

Click the links if you dare, and tell me if any of these people are not completely nuts.

After all the fuss over Vantablack, and the artist who managed to get exclusive access to it, there’s a new blackety-black paint that is virtually the same, and this one’s available to the public.

Called Singularity, the new paint was developed for NASA, just like Vantablack, but the company that developed it (NanoLab) is making it available to all artists, starting at only $30 for a nail-polish sized bottle.

In an interview with Hyperallergic, a NanoLab scientist says:

NanoLab offers a coating service to anyone interested in sending us pieces that can withstand the processing conditions for our experienced staff to coat at our lab facility, but we are open to sharing this entire process with any artist that wants to use Singularity Black in their own studio.

I’d like to coat everything in this velvety matte super-anti-reflective black, just as I used to spray-paint everything gold. It was just a phase, but it seemed like gold made everything better, especially things that aren’t supposed to be gold. Unfortunately, Singularity is kind of hard to work with.

Artist Jason Chase is the first artist to incorporate the paint into a piece of art. Titled Black Iron Ursa, it’s a cast-iron gummy bear that Chase has painted black, atop a rainbow hued circular thing. It’s kitsch, in my opinion, but it makes the point that a really fucking black object can be uniquely compelling.

Just to be perfectly clear, Vantablack exhibits lower reflectance in the visible range — about 0.2% total hemispherical reflectance (THR) at 700 nm — and Singularity Black exhibits about 1.15% THR at 700 nm, according to Hyperallergic.

I think that’s a minute enough disparity that it’s safe to say, NAH NAH, ANISH KAPOOR!

Learn more about Singularity, and even order some here.

Black Iron Ursa (c) Jason Chase, 2017
El Niño Malo (c) Sister Wolf

Anish Kapoor is a celebrated British sculptor whose grand scale works I find thrilling, not that I know anything about art. Last year, he pissed everyone off by gaining exclusive rights to a new color, the blackest black pigment ever created. It was developed by a company called NanoSystem, who believe it is “the blackest material in the universe, after a black hole.”

It’s pretty fucking black. Who wouldn’t be excited about that?

When Kapoor won the rights to use the color, Vantablack, he was ready to defend himself.

Why exclusive? Because it’s a collaboration, because I am wanting to push them to a certain use for it. I’ve collaborated with people who make things out of stainless steel for years and that’s exclusive.

Yeah, but come on, steel isn’t a color. Why can’t you share? What’s your deal? He addressed the issue obliquely:

The problem is that colour is so emotive – especially black … I don’t think the same response would occur if it was white. Perhaps the darkest black is the black we carry within ourselves. It’s not the night where you switch the lights off – it’s the night where you close your eyes. There’s a psycho side to blackness that we don’t associate with other colours readily. I suspect red does the same. I’ve worked with red a great deal, for not dissimilar reasons.

Well, obviously there is no reasonable defense for not sharing the pigment.  So another British artist decided to object by creating the “pinkest pink” and selling it online to anyone who promised not to share it with Anish Kapoor.

Hahahaha, Stuart Semple, you are a prankster after my own heart and I salute you. Here is Semple’s argument:

But wait!  Kapoor somehow got a hold of the pink paint, and posted a picture to Instagram, giving Semple the finger…a finger dipped in his pink.

Semple would not be outdone by Kapoor. He created the world’s “most glittery glitter,” again forbidding sales to Anish Kapoor until he’s willing to share his black.

Feud on, you guys! Life is unbearable except for stuff like this.

Meanwhile, whatever you think of Kapoor, check out his work online. I still revere him. And I want that glitter.

If you’ve always sensed some nothingness in the work of celebrated performance diva artist Marina Abramovic, you’ll be glad to know it’s official.

Discussing her new work at the Serpentine Gallery, her first since The Artist is Present, she says:

I had this vision of an empty gallery — nothing there.

So far, so good. So radical and avant garde! Her show is called  “512 Hours,” the amount of time she will be present at the gallery, where patrons will enter an empty room and do nothing, or something.

There is just me. And the public. It is insane what I try to do.

Oh Marina, you kook! You bring the nothing, and we love you for it! Well, I don’t, but whatever.The gallery’s curators have received a number of letters, accusing Abramovic and the gallery of failing to acknowledge the work of Mary Ellen Carroll, a New York-based conceptual artist who has been working on a project called “Nothing” since 1984, describing it as “an engagement with the public.”

The Serpentine’s curator admits that many artists (including John Cage and Yoko Ono) have explored the relationship between art and nothingness. The matter is far from settled but Abramovic has responded a bit defensively:

It’s not that I’m doing nothing — quite the opposite. It’s just that there is nothing except people in the space.

See, you idiots? You fucking philistines! Back off. Get out of her grille.

I like this paragraph about Marina, from a profile at CNN online: “She has danced with Jay Z in his music video, counts James Franco and Lady Gaga as loyal fans and friends, and was named as one of Time Magazine’s most influential people of 2014.”

I think it sums up her place in our culture, although I also believe there was a time when she was a genuine artist with something to say.

Meanwhile, if you want, you can watch her sell out to Adidas, below.

Matjames Metson is a self-taught artist whose work needs to be seen in person to be fully appreciated.

Each piece is complicated but deliberate, and full of hidden delights. His art is personal but resonates with wonder and mystery.

I met him at his studio and fell in love with him, as did my companions. Matjames is fucking adorable. He told us about his experience of Hurricane Katrina, and showed us the graphic novel he is working on. Each page is a mini-masterpiece of emotion, beautifully crafted with a black Sharpie. He told us about the Sharpies he acquired in the chaos of Katina, when he walked through a looted store where everything was gone but the school supplies.

I can’t wait for his book to be published. Meanwhile, his art is available for sale right now, and will be on exhibit next year at the Fowler Museum in Los Angeles.

Here is a video where you can see Matjames in his studio. Here is an album of his work on Facebook. Here is his website.

If you collect art or know someone who does, a piece by Matjames Metson will be something to treasure. I really believe that art elevates the soul. My soul was enriched by the radiant sweetness of this talented artist and yours can be too!

(c) Matjames Metson

Th other day, my nephew R was visiting and I asked him if he’d seen or heard about Beyonce‘s wacky Met Gala dress. Since R is one of the most culturally literate people I’ve ever met, it was a reasonable question.

His response was to shake his head in dismay and express contempt for the idea that anyone gave a shit about Beyonce’s dress. Why should anyone care about this, he exclaimed.

I considered his question and asked, Why should anyone care about anything?

This is the type of conversation I live for. And R is always up for it.

I asked him if anyone should care about the recent auction of “The Scream,” which set a world record by selling for $119.9 million. He said, Yes, because it reflects the state of the current art market and blah blah blah.

Why is “The Scream” more important to know about than Beyonce’s dress? This is a real question. I think that everything we “care” about is just a distraction from the horror of existence. Any time you find yourself in a life or death situation, you realize the fatuousness of all your preoccupations, of everything going on around you. Your choice of car, your shoes, your blue-ray TV, your favorite band, it’s all a distraction.

Moving away from existentialism, I wonder why The Scream is worth $119.9 million. It’s obviously one of the few paintings that is instantly recognizable by any imbecile. The Scream, the Mona Lisa, and Sunflowers are probably the big three, in terms of iconic paintings, right? And I love The Scream, but only because I know it’s an expression of unversal anguish. If it was called “The Toothache”, would it still be worth all that money?

We like The Scream because our taste is a consequence of our social class. Beyonce’s dress probably strikes my nephew as too crass and lowbrow to merit his interest. He may not know that you can take a course in Beyonce Studies at Rutgers.

I am comfortable with the idea that it’s all bullshit, but it’s my nature to wonder about human behavior, even my own. As I continue to waste my time with Tumblr, I’ve been wondering how I make the distinction between real art and kitsch. I tend to disdain the latter, but I wonder if Kitsch is in the eye of the beholder. I also wonder when I’ll be able to stop distracting myself with Tumblr and TV and start experiencing my actual self again.

Meanwhile, where do you stand on Beyonce’s dress, The Scream, and whether you should give a shit? Thoughts, arguments, insults?

The Los Angeles County Museum of Art has acquired, in its wisdom, a 340 ton granite boulder that will form the centerpiece of Michael Heizer‘s massive outdoor sculpture, “Levitated Mass.”

LACMA director Michael Govan points out that the huge rock is “only part of the sculpture,” which requires the  construction  of a subterranean slot upon which steel rails will support the rock, I mean the sculpture.

“The largest part of the sculpture is the negative space, the channel in the landscape,” he says. “It has its own independent sculptural presence. The marriage of these two forms comprises the sculpture.”

When was the last time you got to hear the term “negative space” used without facetiousness?

Anyway,   the logistics of moving this huge rock are a nightmare. A company that moves “extreme objects” has been hired to figure out how to do it.   Some utility lines, street lights and stop lights will have to be taken down by the local area’s utility companies as the boulder passes through crowded urban areas, and the route the rock will take can’t be confirmed until permits are cleared.

At a cost of somewhere between $5 and $10 million dollars, this is a coup for LACMA.   Michael Heizer, the artist, is best known for “Double Negative,” the 1,500-foot-long land sculpture he cut into a desert mesa in a remote section of southern Nevada.

Breathtaking, isn’t it? To quote Heizer: “There is nothing there, yet it is still a sculpture.” So true.

As we ponder the meaning of art, the suffering of Sisyphus, and the value of ten million dollars, let us not forget that people are idiots.

After coming across this photo last week, I couldn’t get it out of my mind.   It’s a stage in Austria’s Lake Constance, for Kieth Warner’s production of Umberto Giordano‘s opera “Andrea Chénier”, which will open to the public in July.

Here’s a description:

The first performance of the four-act opera, based on the life of the eponymous French poet who was executed during the French revolution, will take place on 20 July at the Bregenz festival in Austria.

Lake Constance is often used during the festival as an extension of the stage, which this year is being transformed into a 24 metre-high figure of Jean-Paul Marat, inspired by the depiction of his death in the 1793 painting by Jacques-Louis David.

The stage design also includes an open book from which members of the cast will emerge, and a large gold mirror.

Shit! How wonderful! I love the monumentalness   of this  enterprise. I wish I could transport myself to Austria. If you find this image compelling, see more here.

~

Here’s another piece of art that blows my mind. It’s a van I’ve seen around Venice lately, and yesterday I got to see it up close when I went to get groceries and there it was in the parking lot.   A slightly-built man emerged and he was very nice when I asked if I could take a picture.

I walked around and around the van, trying to take in all its wacky glory. It’s completely covered in black and white leather, heavily studded and topped off with realistic-looking stuffed tigers.   There are religious plaques on both sides of the van, praising the lord.   I believe this van is a tribute to the owner’s loved one, Shirley Ann, his “Queen in Life and Death,” “Together for Eternity.”

It’s  uplifting  to see artistic commitment of this magnitude. Whether it’s part of a prestigious festival or one man’s expression of devotion, real art is transcendent, isn’t it? I’m grateful for these glimpses of it.

*van photos via

Olek is a Polish-born artist who has chosen to “crochet everything that enters her space.” A strange decision perhaps for a graduate of a cultural studies degree, but even stranger are her motives, “in order to do two things at once: watch movies and make art.”

Olek’s artists’ statement: “A loop after a loop. Hour after hour my madness becomes crochet. Life and art are inseparable. (via)

I LOVE obsessive artists! Olek’s work must be amazing to see in person. I love how she has taken a craft associated with prim old ladies and made it crazy and vaguely sinister.

I love people with grand obsessions. As long as they’re not aimed at me, of course. Werner Herzog movies, stories of psychotic jealousy, people who devote their lives in pursuit of some maniacal passion, it’s all good. I like artists whose work verges on OCD.

I shared my fascination with the brilliant, obsessive Liza Lou here.   And there are some high resolution images of Olek’s work over here.

What an honor to receive the gift of fan art. At least that’s what I’m calling this beautiful picture from Tanya, a sweet and talented follower of Godammit.com.   This is actually how I see myself a lot of the time. I love it, Tanya!

Pretty soon, I’m going to go into fund-raising mode. I may use Kickstarter or I may just beg. I am drowning in debt and the roof is leaking in the kitchen. I can’t get a job because I can’t get a job. Mr. Sister Wolf is working long hours but the hole gets deeper.

Any ideas for money-raising projects, please share them!

Any small donations, click on the Virgin Mary thing on the right.

Blessings either way, xo