July 04, 2008


Yesterday was the first day in two months where I didn't see nor tend to my dad. For 39 whole hours.
So I took the middle of today off.
And so:
Sylvie and I went to see the Marlene Dumas mid-career at MOCA; all those wild n' wet eyes and perfectly proportioned chubbed armpits of creepy maybe sleeping babies* hung high in a too cold room could make you forget anything. I'm into it. Dumas is scares me in my gutz.

The lumpy magenta and grey faces of school kids were visceral in the way that the porny posed portraits weren't but maybe it's just over-exposure (no pun intended). Ass-up spreading is made dull by it's sheer America-2008 ubiquity, even if the ass is unreal green-grey and the technique ooky/flawless.

(* Contemporary feminist painting is heavy on babies/corporeal, sure, but meanwhile the last decade of art as I understand it is nothing but D. Hirst fucking on a pile of cash, wack Lisa Frank rainbow-puke unicorn nostalgia, and human hamstering (all of which fits the capitalist fin-du-monde fantastic, but doesn't seem to mean anything**) and gets a pass---meanwhile every flickerflame of woman-as-vessel*** ideation gets the my other southwestern landscape is a vagina eyeroll. (Ironically) pregnant with a meaning which is taken to be understood, flatly understandable, like there is a singular comment within all feminist art.(Georgia O'K. rolls in her grave like a rotisserie chicken for all eternity, amen.)))))

(** Though, as Mike Taylor and I debated in his kitchen the day he gave me my last tattoo, art doesn't have to mean anything to be good (he convinced me), and sometimes it's better when it doesn't, but I feel like there is a greater issue at hand given that much of the nowish art I see seems to aspire to not just "no meaning" but to being meaning-proof, which is foreboding, to put it mildly.)

(*** If there is any more natural and valid feminist reaction to art, let alone everything else, than this? )

Posted by Jessica at July 4, 2008 03:49 AM | TrackBack