After one day of self-imposed exile, during which I subsisted on a diet of popcorn, matzoh, tortilla chips with satanic salsa, and hideously horrible television shows, I am pleased to report that I’ve had it up to here (somewhere above my eyebrows but not quite above the tiptop of my keppie) with the hibernation. So today I’m going to head uptown for some “culture” (which you must pronounce KUL-chuh). First I’m going to the American Craft Museum for “Mikromegas” to see “whimsical stickpins” and “Objects for Use: Handmade by Design”, which includes “functional works by 200 artists”. Because there’s nothing this girl likes better than whimsy and function.
I just hope there’s not a gift shop, because I’ll probably be compelled to buy a stickpin, even though I know that I’ll never wear it if I do buy it and I’ll kick myself in the ass for lying to myself that “I’ll wear it on my denim jacket!!” even as I hand over my hard-earned (ahem) money for one. (For the record, I did buy a pin at the Art Expo when I was helping my friend earlier this month, and when I wore it, I felt like everyone was staring at it and me. It has since broken, damn it, and although I’m pissed off, I’m also a bit “relieved” because this means I won’t feel compelled to wear it just because I bought it.) I’m assuming the whimsy and function were accomplished without the benefit of a glue gun. I also hope there’s nothing that a four-year-old could duplicate in a daycare setting.
After that, I plan to go to Pace/MacGill for an exhibit called “Photems” by Robert Rauschenberg/Robert Heinecken, which New York magazine describes as follows:
…totemic arrangements of black-and-white photographs from the fifties through 1979, when the artist endeavored to photograph the entire United States inch by inch/Mysterious photographic montages that were fabricated by the artist in 1970 by using the pages of pornographic magazines as negatives.
I just hope the “inch by inch” stuff is separate from the pornography, because I fear that the word “totemic” may refer to something naughty. And I’m also scared there may be a gift shop there as well, and I may find some sort of dickpin to display on my denim jacket.