I've caught up somewhat from back-to-back cross-country trips and can finally give a short Philly report. The bottom line: if we have to vote an American capital of art to replace the increasingly fusty and self-satisfied New York scene, my vote goes to Philadelphia. Does the overall quality of new art exceed New York's? Maybe, maybe not. But the scene also doesn't labor under the same excess of pomp and pretense--so the net result is a better experience overall.

Take for example, Philadelphia's obsession with public art. I say amen. Everywhere you turn, murals, public sculpture, challenging and interesting art in hotel lobbies. Hotel lobbies, for crying out loud! And even though Rik, the guy I met at that lovely shit hole bar McGlinchey's can't stand those "damn pink obelisks," I still say they beat the hell out of any other U.S. city's commitment to public art. Ten minutes of that conversation and I pulled out my trump card: Austin's embarrassing $60,000 Lamar Boulevard public art fiasco consisting of...oh whatever, it's so lame it's not worth describing. See it for yourself here (it's the picture in the middle, and yeah, that's all there is...) (right, unattributed sculpture in lobby of Lowe's Hotel)

Speaking of McGlinchey's, one of the waitresses--Sarah Stolfa--has a show at Drexel University featuring photographs of the bar's regulars. Her work seems both poised and psychologically penetrating. It has also been featured in the New York Times Magazine. Some big contest. Don't remember all the details since I was on my 4th beer when Rik told me about it. (left, Sarah Stolfa, "Robert," 2004)

Rik, by the way, was actually Rick, but changed his name in high school. He's working on an experiment to preserve his lungs by "smoking" them with cigarettes the same way meat is preserved by smoking it. Good luck with that Rik. He also says hi to Anna his lost love here in Austin.

This is something I love to do; go around to foreign cities on these quick work-related jaunts and meet locals. I did the same thing in Chicago last year, just before I started this blog and am still in touch with one of those cats. Did the same in Atlanta 2 years ago. Wish I'd known Kojo at the time. (left, Stephen Beyer, Untitled, 1992, reminded me of Peat Duggins and Salomon Huerta)

Unfortunately, I was ill-prepared this year, which is why I just missed Libby Rosof and Roberta Fallon at the Spector Gallery opening on the 19th. Actually, we were probably there at that the same time, since Carie, the co-organizer of the show said that they had "just left" when I talked to her half an hour after arriving.

Maybe next year, but it was an ok show anyway. The show featured artists reinterpreting a whole range of masterworks from the full range of art history. Interpretations ranged from exact copies, including the original signature, to all manner of abstraction, tinkering, joking and mocking. I was intrigued by Jim Houser's take on Cy Twombly, though nothing else particularly blew me over.

Then I looked at Houser's work online, what is apparently his more typical work, and I'm pretty sure I saw it, or something very much like it, earlier this year at Camp Fig and hated it. Paradoxically, I felt much less affronted by what I saw online. (right, Jim Houser, "Local Charm," 1999.)

That confirmed my suspicion that many of the problems I've griped about with contemporary art are not artist problems so much as curatorial problems. When a single artist evokes the whole I-just-don't-give-a-shit, nothing-really-matters ethos, there's at least a chance of receiving it as a genuine expression. But when you lump together 25 artists all doing I-just-don't-give-a-shit in a space that does I-just-don't-give-a-shit month after month, then it comes across as hackneyed and insincere trendwhoring. And that's all I'll say about that for now.

Philadelphia was, all-in-all, quite a success. Oh, and some have asked: the reason I was up there was to man a booth at a conference on Speech-Language Pathology. Yeah, I know...WTF? That's why I had to get away every night to McGlinchey's, to Dirty Frank's to pound on the tables in unison with the whole bar and listen to some dude's rambling story about taking trains all over Japan, and to that skateboard shop that was also opening a show the same night as Spector Gallery.

Back in Austin now, I'm gearing up to make massive revisions on the book project, which yes, has nothing to do with making art and is killing me because of that.

UPDATE: Reading one of the reviews of the Spector show posted at Fallonandrosof made me realize I should have mentioned Kate Moran's teensy tiny Piero della Francesca. It was a jewel.

current music: Flaming Lips, Do You Realize?

Hi, Cinque,
Wow! How did you find that stuff? I didn't even know about some of the things you saw in Philly. Thanks. Gotta go look some more.
Libby

Libby,

Hey, I just followed my nose. If you see the Sarah Stolfa show, I'll be curious to see what you think; I only saw the work in reproduction.

i think jim houser's work is pretty great

Hi,

I'm from Montreal.


Let's be serious...;-)

Philly could NEVER beat New York. It's a comparatively too small a city.


But this said I agree that the art community seemed a little more organized and enthousiast there
than in many other american cities.

The museum is FANTASTIC.
It's an obligatory stop. There's more than your usual share of masterpieces.

Recently I visited and saw two fantastic shows: Olafur Eliasson at Arcadia (but gee...it's kinda far to have to go there)
and Pepon Osorio at ICA, which is .... "huge", I mean, certainly one of the best show of the year (from an artist I had never heard about). Engaging, destabilizing, poignant. The sort of total installation art worth a great Biennial.

So these two shows together are better than a whole journey in Chelsea, so worth the trip effort if these spaces intend to keep these standards.

Only a local would know.

I'm returning soon for Dali.


Cheers,

Cedric Caspesyan

Cedric,

Silly rabbit, haven't you heard? New York is the new Paris: nothing more than a tremendous graveyard commemorating what great art used to be. Oh sure, some good stuff comes through, on a frequent basis even, but its myopic vision condemns it to the same fate as that great pre-modern capital in France.

This happens every so often, a city thinks it's totally hot shit for art, its people get lazy and smug and then some other territory takes over.

Anyway, glad you like Philly and glad you had a good time!