Friday, November 27, 2009

She harbors no illusions

What do you know! There was some good music in the eighties.



Cynical Girl

by Marshall Crenshaw

Well I'm goin' out
I'm goin' out lookin' for a cynical girl
Who's got no use for the real world
I'm lookin' for a cynical girl

Well I hate TV
There's gotta be somebody other than me
Who's ready to write it off immediately
I'm lookin' for a cynical girl

Well I'll know right away by the look in her eye
She harbors no illusions and she's worldly-wise
And I'll know when I give her a listen that she
She's what I've been missin'
What I've been missin'

I'll be lost in love
And havin' some fun with my cynical girl
Who'll have no use for the real world
I'm lookin' for a cynical girl

Sunday, November 8, 2009

a title about titles

Often, the only original contribution that I actually add to my postings is the title. The chicken art post was so rich with possibilites. It was really fun. "Cosmopolitan Chicken Project" would have been the natural, but dull choice. Here are the other titles I consisdered.


His art is something to squawk about

an artitst drawn to foul play

Cosmopolitan Chicken Project

or did I come to the chicken

egg-as-prison metaphor

soulful bond between man and poultry

rigid view of chicken-ness

Squawking points

I did see the movie, The Duelists and enjoyed it. Of course those movie people took liberties with the story, but not bad at all. Hope to comment more. No time now.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

pridefulness surrounding chickens

Here is the link to the article, but this is so good that I don't want any of you to miss it so even though it makes for a long post, I'm putting it all right here at you finger tips, and they, and the article are finger lickin' good.

An artist drawn to fowl play

Koen Vanmechelen puts 'Chicken Project' on D.C.'s table

By Monica Hesse
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, November 7, 2009

Sometimes when the Belgian conceptual artist Koen Vanmechelen is being philosophical, he ponders a profound question of our time:

"Did the chicken come to me, or did I come to the chicken?"


What led him to dedicate his life to the chicken, to breeding it and studying it, traveling the world for it? Was it the egg-as-prison metaphor that Vanmechelen found compelling -- the image of the domesticated chick struggling to free itself only to be born into a cage? Is it the chicken's humanlike traits, such as walking on two feet and waking with the sun, that create a soulful bond between man and poultry?

What is the meaning of life?


Those questions and more will be examined in Vanmechelen's "Cosmopolitan Chicken Project," a multimedia exhibit opening Saturday evening at the Conner Contemporary Art gallery, featuring photographs, video, taxidermy and livestock and smelling faintly of chicken poop.

In the center of the Northeast Washington gallery, the pièce de résistance -- a massive chicken coop with three feathered inhabitants who huddle together and occasionally squawk. "It's okay," Vanmechelen says to one chicken in the soothing voice of a man who is used to working with taloned animals.

He is inside the cage; he is holding the chicken. "The chicken likes it," Vanmechelen assures a visitor who stopped by earlier this week to witness the installation. "Go ahead, you can pet."

Its eyes are beady but its feathers are surprisingly soft and slick.

We humans apparently project a lot onto our chickens. We have been breeding them for thousands of years. Over centuries, each country has developed what it perceives to be the perfect chicken, based on everything from geographical conditions to national pride. In France, the poulet de Bresse has a red crown, white feathers and blue legs -- the patriotic colors of the French flag. In Belgium the Mechelse koekoek has sturdy legs like a Belgian horse, good for the country's clay terrain. Americans breed their chickens big, like they breed everything else big -- sneering Jersey Giants with rugged feathers.

Chickens on the move
The pridefulness surrounding chickens concerned Vanmechelen, 44, who raised chickens as a small child. "By transferring these thoughts to living objects, we put a frame around them," he says over dinner at his hotel the night before installation. We decide what a perfect chicken looks like, and we disregard the ones who do not fit the mold. We judge the chicken. This rigid view of chicken-ness "is against the movement of evolution. All we know is that things must change. That is life."

He got an idea. The idea was to take the Belgian chicken and mate it with the French chicken, creating a breed he christened the Mechelse Bresse. Then to take that offspring and breed it with an English chicken. Then to take that offspring and mate it with an American chicken. Nine years after his first experiment, Vanmechelen has 13 generations of crossbred chickens, each generation getting closer to the primal, unblemished wild chicken, which still roams the foothills of the Himalayas.

The chicken is the art.


(And why not, when Damien Hirst has his formaldehyde sharks and cows?)

The actual experimental chickens are only a small piece of Vanmechelen's work. He also photographs the chickens. He makes chicken drawings, incorporating corn and feathers. He runs videos of trembling eggs, and he still eats chicken because he was raised eating chicken and he doesn't want anyone to think that he is making a political statement when he is really making art. "Cosmopolitan Chicken" has recently been showcased at the Third Moscow Biennale of Contemporary Art. The Conner show is Vanmechelen's first solo exhibit in a U.S. gallery. The artist is also known for his "Cosmogolem" project, a series of towering wooden sculptures symbolizing children's rights.

The "Cosmopolitan Chicken Project" has brought Vanmechelen to every country in Europe, and all chicken-inhabited continents except for Australia. He has chicken farms in six countries. Chicken transport for a single crossbreeding can cost up to $22,000, and Vanmechelen finds symbolism in the red tape that he must work around to bring the chickens together.

"How difficult it is for a chicken to come to Belgium is linked to Belgium" -- to its fears and phobias and official policies, he says. Bringing a chicken from Russia was nearly impossible, and there was so much fear over disease in African livestock that he eventually opened a farm in Tanzania and took himself to the chicken. That's also symbolic, Vanmechelen says. Think how difficult it must be for humans to cross those borders.

Hardly chicken feed
Although he's received some foundational support for "Cosmopolitan Chicken," Vanmechelen says that most of the funding comes from sales of his work. His smaller works at Conner will go for around $3,500; buying the whole installation could run up to $100,000, says Leigh Conner of the gallery. The chickens are for sale, too, but not while they're alive. If art patrons become attached to a particular chicken, they may purchase the taxidermied version after its demise.

"The project is about multiculturalism, globalism, genetic engineering, diversity, so many things," Vanmechelen says. "It represents what we are doing with society." An empty incubator stands at the front of the gallery, which represents "the desire to have the upcoming generation."

A CD soundtrack of clucking plays on loop.

Jamie Smith, the curator of Conner Contemporary, first learned of Vanmechelen's work while studying in Belgium on a fellowship several years ago. She went to a contemporary art museum in Hasselt, saw his chickens, and thought, "Well, this is the cutting edge of realism."

She's followed him ever since. "Like all good art, it shows us something about ourselves," Smith says. "His use of material is very profound," and so, too, is the idea that the gallery itself becomes yet another cage. "I think the point is that as long as we're engaged with the material world, we can never be free."

In some of Vanmechelen's larger exhibits, he's able to showcase all the living generations of the project at once, in long rows of wood-and-wire coops.

At Connor he'll be showing only three chickens -- all Jersey Giants purchased specially for the exhibit from a farm outside of Charlottesville. After the show ends in December, a friend of Smith's will take them in, where they will live out the rest of their days in comfort and seclusion.

A reporter at the gallery was unable to discern how they felt about their brief foray into fame.

Cosmopolitan Chicken Project

Nov. 7 to Dec. 31 at Conner Contemporary Art, 1358 Florida Ave. NE. Call 202-588-8750 or visit http://www.connercontemporary.com.

Educational Stuff number 17

Findings inconclusive on teaching abstinence.

Of course some of us work at schools where that whole abstinence, condom use question is not much of an issue, since that train already left the station.

And there is Advice for the college-bound: Wait.

But most interesting, if you got here in time (doubtful), tonight at 10pm eastern time on Turner Classic movies, The Duelists, based on the novella/long short story by? Who else! :-)

Friday, November 6, 2009

clever

go here and click play

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Jack O. Lantern, 2009

Just finished. I wanted a pic, showing his guts spread on the front walk. The knife was really an accident, but I like it.


I stumbled on a new candle technique this year. I have always chosen a short fat candle that won't fall over and stuck a small saucer in the pumpkin to hold it. Sometimes I would burn my hand lighting it. This year I found a tall candle and I just dug a whole in the bottom and dropped in some wax to seal it. Probably normal people always do this; a discovery for me. You see I lead a deprived childhood. My father never showed me how to carve a pumpkin. Reminds me of some drunken college friends strumming guitars and singing. I have a tape. The new words to "If I Had A Hammer" were, "If I had a father who had taken me hunting, I wouldn't be wearing dresses today." Guess you had to be there. I digress.


And some classic out of focus night shots, but that makes it more scary than it really is, but just as lame really. Still it entertains me. In additions to the usual princesses, fairies, clowns, ghosts and ninja turtles, both Harry Potter and Michael Jackson came to my door for candy tonight.




Remember that knife? I swear this was not planned. I just went to the stack of old newspapers and selected an older one from down the stack a ways and spread it out paying no particular attention. And who is there just by the knife?


Senator Al Franken! Now that's scary. :-) But you know I like Al ... very much. Now his pic rests in my trash can, Jack's decaying guts pressed to his face.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

bored and boring

Traveling again, but not very inspired to post. Feeling bored and boring, ergo the title. Only one thing half noteworthy. I must have done something to please the rental car gods. I got a Toyota Carolla! :-) It's nice.





I have always liked Toyotas. Owned one once.

To get the pictures out of the way, here is another great step forward for society. You know those hand driers in public bathrooms. Sometimes they make such a screeching blast I think my hearing has suffered permanent damage. And no matter the sound, they don't work very well. When there are directions there for how to operate it, I always want to add a last step: "Dry your hands on your shirt." But now the Dyson Airblade.


You hold your hands stiffly and move them up and down by that yellow band. It works very well! Culture marches on! I also heard there was a guy taking pictures in the airport mens room. What has life come to with such perverts roaming about!

On the reading front, you may recall a need for a manly fix. I finished A Set of Six by my favorite Joseph Conrad. It was wonderful, of course, especially The Duel, which was made into a movie. I must see that soon. I've really been avoiding this, but it has come to be. I have now read every word of fiction published by Joseph Conrad. There are a couple that were a collaboration and some commentary and auto-biographical non-fiction that I have not read, but I've done all the fiction. The only sensible thing to do is start over. Many I have only read once!

And to be sure the fix is adequate, I'm on page 127 of The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. It's good. A few days ago I thought there were quotable parts, but I didn't mark them and now I'm too bored and boring. As I read, I see Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, but that's OK.

And today I was thinking about the word "wherewithal". Or at least I think that's a word, that's obviously three words. As in having the wherewithal to do something. Where did that come from? I'm going to ask Hot For Words.