I woke this morning to the sound of steady rain on the roof of our Laguna Beach cottage. We had a couple of light showers yesterday evening. Shouldn't happen. This is July, in Southern California. It doesn't rain here in July. Still, it was a pleasure. This morning, the air is fresh now that the rain has stopped, and it seems like nature has breathed a great sigh of relief. The plants in the garden are heavy with moisture, busy drinking it in. The ground is sodden. Our hummers are back outside our bedroom window, celebrating with great swoops and loops above the greenery. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well...
It is astonishing, is it not, that these simple words written from the heart of a woman centuries ago should continue to resound in hearts and minds today?
Sunday, August 18, 2019
MUSEUMS... AND MONEY
Small wonder that the last remaining artist on the board at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Ed Ruscha, announced his resignation on Monday. This leaves a museum that was conceived and built with the significant input of the community artists in a position where it has alienated virtually every artist in the community.
This situation was predicable, surely, with the appointment of Jeffrey Deitch as the museum's director a couple of years ago. Deitch, who prior to his appointment at MoCA was an enormously successful dealer in New York, the epicenter of the global "art world," was presumably selected by the board on the basis of his business acumen and his contacts with super-wealthy art patrons as much as the depth of his knowledge of art or his museum experience. I saw the appointment at the time as a part of a whole cultural shift in this country to run everything for profit--whether education, prisons, highways... or arts and culture. It's capitalism run amok. My book, Persist: In Praise of the Creative Spirit in a World Gone Mad with Commerce originated in the perception that most artists, these days, find themselves in a bewildering predicament, in a culture whose traditional values have been superseded by money and celebrity.
If a museum begins to cater to those two, twin values, woe betide it. The populist program of exhibitions promoted by Deitch may have brought in huge numbers of new patrons for the spectacle, but it clearly came at the (literal) expense of shows that were more concerned with historical perspective and aesthetic values. The resignation of Paul Schimmel after a distinguished run as chief curator was the all too logical culmination of this shift. It happened, also, to save the museum a big chunk of money to indulge in that other distasteful business practice: outsourcing. Independent curators can be brought in cheaply and without the fiscal burden of the kind of benefits an in-house curator can--and should--expect. Exhibitions can be imported on a relative shoestring, with less obligation and responsibility accruing to the host institution.
Museums, like governments, like schools, are not businesses. If we look further than MoCA and the city that boasts it as a major cultural institution, we can hardly miss the sorry spectacle of a presidential candidate whose chief claim to the White House is his supposed ability to run a business. His concern as a businessman was with the bottom line; his constituency, the shareholders. His business was not tangible goods, but money. That his mind-set is approved by such large numbers of this country's voters is a sad reflection on our values. If we hand over our museums to those who would operate them in order to please this same lowest common denominator and to show a profit, we shall all be greatly the poorer as a culture and severely diminished as a nation.
Free MoCA! If you are a Southern California resident, take a moment to voice your discontent!
This situation was predicable, surely, with the appointment of Jeffrey Deitch as the museum's director a couple of years ago. Deitch, who prior to his appointment at MoCA was an enormously successful dealer in New York, the epicenter of the global "art world," was presumably selected by the board on the basis of his business acumen and his contacts with super-wealthy art patrons as much as the depth of his knowledge of art or his museum experience. I saw the appointment at the time as a part of a whole cultural shift in this country to run everything for profit--whether education, prisons, highways... or arts and culture. It's capitalism run amok. My book, Persist: In Praise of the Creative Spirit in a World Gone Mad with Commerce originated in the perception that most artists, these days, find themselves in a bewildering predicament, in a culture whose traditional values have been superseded by money and celebrity.
If a museum begins to cater to those two, twin values, woe betide it. The populist program of exhibitions promoted by Deitch may have brought in huge numbers of new patrons for the spectacle, but it clearly came at the (literal) expense of shows that were more concerned with historical perspective and aesthetic values. The resignation of Paul Schimmel after a distinguished run as chief curator was the all too logical culmination of this shift. It happened, also, to save the museum a big chunk of money to indulge in that other distasteful business practice: outsourcing. Independent curators can be brought in cheaply and without the fiscal burden of the kind of benefits an in-house curator can--and should--expect. Exhibitions can be imported on a relative shoestring, with less obligation and responsibility accruing to the host institution.
Museums, like governments, like schools, are not businesses. If we look further than MoCA and the city that boasts it as a major cultural institution, we can hardly miss the sorry spectacle of a presidential candidate whose chief claim to the White House is his supposed ability to run a business. His concern as a businessman was with the bottom line; his constituency, the shareholders. His business was not tangible goods, but money. That his mind-set is approved by such large numbers of this country's voters is a sad reflection on our values. If we hand over our museums to those who would operate them in order to please this same lowest common denominator and to show a profit, we shall all be greatly the poorer as a culture and severely diminished as a nation.
Free MoCA! If you are a Southern California resident, take a moment to voice your discontent!
"MODERN CAPITALISM"
It's a lazy man's entry today. If you're up for a clear-sighted analysis of the Romney approach to our economic woes, please take a look at this article by Richard (RJ) Eskow at the Huffington Post. It's a response to a recent op-ed piece in the New York Times by the conservative columnist David Brooks, who tries to sell us on what he calls Romney's "modern capitalism." Code words, perhaps, for grand larceny by the super-rich. Eskow's response is a useful read.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
"THE ARTIST IS PRESENT"
Readers of The Buddha Diaries will be as moved and inspired as I was by the HBO documentary, Marina Abramovic: The Artist is Present. It's the story of the preparation and installation for the artist's 20120 retrospective exhibition of the same title at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, with its new performance designed especially for the occasion: "The Artist Is Present."
And is she ever. Abramovic is known for performances that explore the breadth and depth of her humanity, sometimes in its most vulnerable aspects. She is willing to expose both body and soul to the scrutiny of observers in order to share those human qualities that many others seek to hide, repress or deny. In telling us most intimately about herself, she offers us the opportunity to learn more about who we are. It is often a challenging, sometimes even a painful experience--for the artist, as well as for her audience. But she shrinks from nothing, it would seem, to achieve this goal.
I tend to recoil from performance work that smacks of exhibitionism, but even when naked this artist manages to banish the ego from the work at hand. It's not "Marina's body" so much as "human body" that we see; it's not "Marina's story" that we're told, so much as our own. It's the story of our own vulnerability, our own fear, the pain we experience in our own lives.
"The Artist Is Present" could not be simpler in design: two chairs are set up at the center of a large, white gallery space, with a table in between. Simply robed in red, white or black, the artist occupies one of the chairs. She invites any person who might so wish to occupy the other for a long enough period to receive her gaze and to gaze, in turn, into her face. No words are exchanged, no gestures, and no touch. There is barely anything that could be described as an "expression" on her face. In this way, the artist is able to become the mirror for each participant, reflecting back to them everything that comes to the surface in their face: their pain, their fear, their grief... sometimes, their joy.
The "performance"--I hesitate to call it that, because this is as "real" as it gets--is profoundly moving. It required immense physical discipline and stamina of the artist, who sat virtually immobile for hours on end each day of the exhibition's three-month run in what she called her "square of light" in the museum's atrium. It required the same measure of emotional discipline and stamina, and an immense resource of compassion. The full range and depth of her personal emotional well was plumbed each day, as visitors received their share of her and offered their own emotional life for her to absorb and, in some way, to heal.
It was an exemplary performance, a tour de force that most of us would lack the strength and fortitude to contemplate. Compassion at its best is the ability to empathize fully with the suffering of others, but without taking it on board and making it our own. Abramaovic reminds us of the commonality of simply being human, and offers us the comfort for knowing that it's shared. I wish now that I had been smart enough to take a flight to New York a couple of years ago to be present myself for "The Artist Is Present." Failing that, I'm glad to have seen the documentary. Don't miss the opportunity to see it for yourself.
And is she ever. Abramovic is known for performances that explore the breadth and depth of her humanity, sometimes in its most vulnerable aspects. She is willing to expose both body and soul to the scrutiny of observers in order to share those human qualities that many others seek to hide, repress or deny. In telling us most intimately about herself, she offers us the opportunity to learn more about who we are. It is often a challenging, sometimes even a painful experience--for the artist, as well as for her audience. But she shrinks from nothing, it would seem, to achieve this goal.
I tend to recoil from performance work that smacks of exhibitionism, but even when naked this artist manages to banish the ego from the work at hand. It's not "Marina's body" so much as "human body" that we see; it's not "Marina's story" that we're told, so much as our own. It's the story of our own vulnerability, our own fear, the pain we experience in our own lives.
"The Artist Is Present" could not be simpler in design: two chairs are set up at the center of a large, white gallery space, with a table in between. Simply robed in red, white or black, the artist occupies one of the chairs. She invites any person who might so wish to occupy the other for a long enough period to receive her gaze and to gaze, in turn, into her face. No words are exchanged, no gestures, and no touch. There is barely anything that could be described as an "expression" on her face. In this way, the artist is able to become the mirror for each participant, reflecting back to them everything that comes to the surface in their face: their pain, their fear, their grief... sometimes, their joy.
The "performance"--I hesitate to call it that, because this is as "real" as it gets--is profoundly moving. It required immense physical discipline and stamina of the artist, who sat virtually immobile for hours on end each day of the exhibition's three-month run in what she called her "square of light" in the museum's atrium. It required the same measure of emotional discipline and stamina, and an immense resource of compassion. The full range and depth of her personal emotional well was plumbed each day, as visitors received their share of her and offered their own emotional life for her to absorb and, in some way, to heal.
It was an exemplary performance, a tour de force that most of us would lack the strength and fortitude to contemplate. Compassion at its best is the ability to empathize fully with the suffering of others, but without taking it on board and making it our own. Abramaovic reminds us of the commonality of simply being human, and offers us the comfort for knowing that it's shared. I wish now that I had been smart enough to take a flight to New York a couple of years ago to be present myself for "The Artist Is Present." Failing that, I'm glad to have seen the documentary. Don't miss the opportunity to see it for yourself.
Monday, July 16, 2012
LEARNING TO DRIVE
My hands clench tight
to the steering wheel.
I am perhaps eighteen years old.
My father sits beside me, in
the passenger seat,
his hands rolling, perhaps,
a cigarette, calmly,
with his familiar skill;
he watches me, watches
where the road ahead
leads into a pale sky
above the English hills.
He asks me, Why
are your hands so tight,
you see how white
your knuckles are?
And now, today,
so many years gone by,
still there are times
I am surprised to wake
at night and find my hands
clenched into fists...
And once again
the memoryreturns
today, in meditation,
my father long since
dead: I note the tension
in my hands, breathe in,
and send releasing
energy. They tell me
I hold on so tight
for fear of what might
be, if I let go.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 7/14/2012
"Whether we are rich or poor, educated or uneducated, whatever our nationality, color, social status, or ideology may be, the purpose of our lives is to be happy."
~His Holiness the Dalai Lama
Friday, July 13, 2012
Early Morning Buddhist Inspiration - 7/13/2012
"In our struggle for freedom, truth is the only weapon we possess."
~His Holiness the Dalai Lama
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