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saw the open ends exhibits at moma, which was really half a dozen small exhibits, each with themes that seem too broad to fit in small rooms–protest art, minimalism, big art, white–but pretty tightly curated, with small numbers of efficiently-used pieces. a pretty extensive one about the my lai massacre, with letters and photos and posters. also a swatch of the wallpaper showing sleeping white men and lynched black men, that i remembered covering an entire room at the hirshhorn museum (part of the smithsonian) when i went there as a little kid. another woman made two huge blocks of chocolate and lard, took bites out of each, made products (chocolate hearts and red lipstick) with them, and then put the blocks out to gradually lose shape. funny how the exhibit whose title i like the best–innocence and experience–is one that i don't remember any details of.
took the f train all the way down to my 'hood and went to the gym. saw the same 2 sexy guys (white-skinned puerto rican bruiser with wifebeater, thick veins on his biceps, and baseball cap backward; italian guy with the snake tattoo all over his forearm and the bright red baseball cap forward). i love my ghetto gym, but enough about that; talked to people, got caught up, gave free therapy, wrote a quick happy birthday card on curious george stationery for uri's 30th. went to hell to deliver it, saw him, made friends, ran into his friend that i unwittingly hooked up with a year ago. gotta love new york.
on january 22, i'm gonna do my darnedest to go to this bruce mau lecture. if you want to too, call phaidon press, the sponsors, because it's reservation only: 212.652.5407.
how fuckin' happy am i that erykah badu is playing radio city music hall on valentine's day?
check this guy out, now imagine him with curly black hair and a furry chest; way better, right?
posted January 14, 2001 in art, delivery, sex. 2005