Weekend lessons: keep your dog on a leash and Pamela Anderson scares me.
Well, it was a pretty crazy start to the month of February, but I'm still standing (barely) and rebounding just in time to recap my weekend.
Friday, February 4th - Left work in time to hit a yoga class (nothing like a little mind, body, heart action before a weekend on the town), and then met up with my friend Lollion and her buddy Sarah. We thought we were just going to be eating vegan fast food then meeting people for drinks at Metropolitan in Williamsburg, but there was something else in store...
So we paid a visit to Food Swings, a vegan fast food joint, where I ordered the Vegan Heart Attack and have never felt healthier doing so. Then we started wandering over to the bar. After a couple of blocks an energetic shar-pei (you know, the wrinkly dogs) was running about, unleashed, with his owner trailing a few paces behind. When the dog and his owner got to the corner, it was time to make a right, at which point the shar-pei, let's call him Max, went bounding across the street. The owner, let's call him Supreme Motherfucker, called out for Max to stop, which loyal Max promptly did. Except he was still in the middle of the street. And a van was careening down the block. And there was ice on the road from the previous night's snowfall. And, I wish I was not being serious, WHAAMMM! the van goes plowing into Max, while we were caught dead in our tracks unable to do a damn thing. So the van stops, Supreme Motherfucker is forced to retrieve Max from underneath and have him walk around. Relief came when Max was able to walk away, but we still have no idea how the shock will affect a fragile shar-pei like Max. I hope he's doing alright.
Okay, contemplating canine mortality doesn't make for a good start to your Friday night, so we just had to make it to the bar and wash away such thoughts with several rounds of drinks and several hours of Erotic Photo Hunt. I'd never met Sarah before, but after confronting death together, we may just have to be life-long friends. Oh, and we kicked ass in Photo Hunt.
Friday's lesson: Keep your dog on a leash, Supreme Motherfucker! That goes for the rest of you out there too!
Saturday, February 5th - Got up to meet fellow art lovers Hannah and Debbie for a round of Chelsea gallery hopping. We're trying to make it a semi-regular joint ritual, as we all have pretty complimentary tastes and love to talk the talk while, well...walking the walk, if you catch my drift. We started with the East Village USA show at the New Museum's temporary space in the Chelsea Art Museum. It's a good, if a bit uneven show of work from the East Village art scene of the 1980s. It's got the names you'd expect (Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Peter Hujar, Nan Goldin, etc.), graffiti art, it's dirty and colorful, and as you can probably guess, feels a little off in the white box world of Chelsea galleries. Definitely worth checking out to take a look back at what NY was like before it went all Giuliani gentrified.
We then hit a bunch of different shows, the highlights being the Petah Coyne show at Galerie Lelong, the Cory Arcangel/beige show at Team Gallery, and the Christian Marclay show at the Paula Cooper Gallery. By far the worst show was the Sarah Lucas show at Barbara Gladstone. Ugggh...after giving the YBA movement a chance, I've decided I just can't be bothered. Try to convince me all you want, but if, in the end, the joke turns out to be on me, I'll be very happy not to have gotten it.
One other noteworthy show is the Pam: American Icon show at the Stellan Holm Gallery. Yes, we're talking Pamela Anderson. In these HUGE prints, Pam cavorts topless and occasionally completely nude. She is not a very tall woman, she has a very narrow waist, and I'm probably not the first to tell you that she's got enormous breasts. I'm sorry, but she just kind of scares me. She's the walking embodiment of 21st century grotesque in an age of plastic surgeons and quack diets.
Saturday's lesson: No getting around it, Pam's scary!
Friday, February 4th - Left work in time to hit a yoga class (nothing like a little mind, body, heart action before a weekend on the town), and then met up with my friend Lollion and her buddy Sarah. We thought we were just going to be eating vegan fast food then meeting people for drinks at Metropolitan in Williamsburg, but there was something else in store...
So we paid a visit to Food Swings, a vegan fast food joint, where I ordered the Vegan Heart Attack and have never felt healthier doing so. Then we started wandering over to the bar. After a couple of blocks an energetic shar-pei (you know, the wrinkly dogs) was running about, unleashed, with his owner trailing a few paces behind. When the dog and his owner got to the corner, it was time to make a right, at which point the shar-pei, let's call him Max, went bounding across the street. The owner, let's call him Supreme Motherfucker, called out for Max to stop, which loyal Max promptly did. Except he was still in the middle of the street. And a van was careening down the block. And there was ice on the road from the previous night's snowfall. And, I wish I was not being serious, WHAAMMM! the van goes plowing into Max, while we were caught dead in our tracks unable to do a damn thing. So the van stops, Supreme Motherfucker is forced to retrieve Max from underneath and have him walk around. Relief came when Max was able to walk away, but we still have no idea how the shock will affect a fragile shar-pei like Max. I hope he's doing alright.
Okay, contemplating canine mortality doesn't make for a good start to your Friday night, so we just had to make it to the bar and wash away such thoughts with several rounds of drinks and several hours of Erotic Photo Hunt. I'd never met Sarah before, but after confronting death together, we may just have to be life-long friends. Oh, and we kicked ass in Photo Hunt.
Friday's lesson: Keep your dog on a leash, Supreme Motherfucker! That goes for the rest of you out there too!
Saturday, February 5th - Got up to meet fellow art lovers Hannah and Debbie for a round of Chelsea gallery hopping. We're trying to make it a semi-regular joint ritual, as we all have pretty complimentary tastes and love to talk the talk while, well...walking the walk, if you catch my drift. We started with the East Village USA show at the New Museum's temporary space in the Chelsea Art Museum. It's a good, if a bit uneven show of work from the East Village art scene of the 1980s. It's got the names you'd expect (Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Peter Hujar, Nan Goldin, etc.), graffiti art, it's dirty and colorful, and as you can probably guess, feels a little off in the white box world of Chelsea galleries. Definitely worth checking out to take a look back at what NY was like before it went all Giuliani gentrified.
We then hit a bunch of different shows, the highlights being the Petah Coyne show at Galerie Lelong, the Cory Arcangel/beige show at Team Gallery, and the Christian Marclay show at the Paula Cooper Gallery. By far the worst show was the Sarah Lucas show at Barbara Gladstone. Ugggh...after giving the YBA movement a chance, I've decided I just can't be bothered. Try to convince me all you want, but if, in the end, the joke turns out to be on me, I'll be very happy not to have gotten it.
One other noteworthy show is the Pam: American Icon show at the Stellan Holm Gallery. Yes, we're talking Pamela Anderson. In these HUGE prints, Pam cavorts topless and occasionally completely nude. She is not a very tall woman, she has a very narrow waist, and I'm probably not the first to tell you that she's got enormous breasts. I'm sorry, but she just kind of scares me. She's the walking embodiment of 21st century grotesque in an age of plastic surgeons and quack diets.
Saturday's lesson: No getting around it, Pam's scary!
posted by Phil at
3:58 PM
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