Reader, writer, and Director of the Dowse Art Museum.
I love this idea.
New York's Museum of Arts and Design (MAD) is this weekend running an event called Museum as Plinth: Take One, Leave One.
Let's get classical(ish)
An urgent and driving debut track from Vampire Weekend member and violinist Sarah Neufeld, produced by our favourite, Nils Frahm
Sufjan Stevens, Bryce Dessner and Nico Muhly's live performance of 'Earth'
A lengthy, dreamy, precise and visceral mediation on the nature of collections, and collections of nature: Matthew Battle's 'Specimens'. Make a cup of something you like and settle in.
Three songs about getting the hell away from it all
Young Galaxy's 'Sleepwalk with me' (the sweetheart of the list)
The Yeah Yeah Yeah's glassy-icy 'Runaway'
Today on the radio I talked about the Auckland Triennial and Bazinga! at Starkwhite
Auckland Triennial website
Bazinga! at Starkwhite
Listening to @auchmill on the radio always makes me feel like a total caveman. "Ugh ugh. Ben type computer. What is art?" :(
— nzben (@nzben) May 15, 2013
A covers list. From the 'I did not expect that' files - Daughter gives Daft Punk's comeback track a chilly air
This morning on Twitter I followed an American Federation of the Arts panel discussion being held at MOMA about blockbuster exhibitions.
Often I find following talks on Twitter frustrating, but this was remarkably well live tweeted. I've pulled together the threads of the conversation below, and inserted a couple of other articles that sprang to mind as well. There's a point towards the end that I find really interesting right now: how do we balance the needs, and enhance the experience, of 'silent' and 'social' visitors?
As I write, I'm listening to the music of the spheres. This is nothing new (the notion of the music of the spheres, that is - me listening to it is unusual) but Whitevinyl's (aka Luke Twyman) delicate and simple version has really touched me.
Nearly two years ago (jeepers) I put together a reading list for a friend's teenage daughter, based on what she'd been reading lately. Recently a friend on Twitter requested some similar recommendations, so here goes: YA for the discerning reader. (Most of the links lead to one of my Goodreads reviews.)
From that 2011 list, a few still stand tall. For example. you can't go wrong with Philip Pullman's 'His Dark Materials' (Northern Lights, The Subtle Knife, The Amber Spyglass) and Patrick Ness's 'Chaos Walking' - The Knife of Never Letting Go, The Ask and the Answer, Monsters of Men. And I continue to press Rebecca's Stead When You Reach Me on everyone I can.
Likewise, Terry Pratchett's Tiffany Aching series remains high in my regard. They are sweet, funny, wise books that teach you how to live strongly and well.
Since then I have read some very good books to add to the list. Mal Peet's Life: An Exploded Diagram does amazing things with time and perspective. I fell for John Green's The Fault in Our Stars, despite its Titanic-like purposeful heartstring twisting. Maggie Stiefvater's The Scorpio Races is not great, but it's eminently readable and I like that, in opposition to the Green, it doesn't set out to play your heart like a fiddle.
Lev Grossman's Magician King series is more like a homage to all things YA than YA itself. The first book is hipsterishly funny whilst also being a love letter to C.S. Lewis and (my god amongst writers) T.H. White; the second starts to dribble on a bit.
Two books I highly, highly recommend though: Margo Lanagan's beautiful dark twisted romance Tender Morsels and Karen Thompson Walker's quiet, almost mundane dystopian fantasy The Age of Miracles.
And I have a dreadful feeling that I left Meg Rosoffs' How I Live Now off that original list. I think it's a masterpiece. Her There Is No Dog is not as good, but still a blast.
And to go back in time. If you have reached adulthood without reading Richard Adam's Watership Down, Dodie Smith's I Capture The Castle and T.H. White's The Once and Future King, then shame on you. Fix that fast.
I'm increasingly fond of Young Galaxy's new album
But not nearly as fond as this reviewer on Pretty Much Amazing. Some of the choicest sentences:
Astral and poetic though it may be, the restrictive labels of genre serve more to pigeonhole than categorize an album of this magnitude and thought.
The cordial clatter of festival drum machines embraces the listener in the clement grasp of a hypnagogic summer.
Violins emerge from the ether en masse like fireflies, filling the air with phosphorescent flecks of alternating melancholy and joy.
Nothing else on Ultramarine matches the wilting splendor so carefully cultivated on “New Summer,” though gems abound. Unabashedly resplendent with Balearic synths and a sing-along chorus set to a captivating calypso cadence, “Fall For You” abandons all hinting toward a tropical ambiance and embodies the paradise that lies beyond the celestial halo.
“Come sleepwalk with me,” she beckons, and with that she whisks you away to a sparkling synthetic azure.
I am such a sucker for the American sports myth. I died a little death over most episodes of Friday Night Lights, and I wept over the original book. I inhaled books that unpick the mythologies. I recently fell in love with the Mike Schwartz, the burly, bearlike retaining wall of Chad Harbach's The Art of Fielding.
And I am intrigued by this article on the recruiting criteria for Stanford's football team. The lede picks out vocabulary, but what the coach says they're looking for is kids who can lock eyes with someone and hold that gaze:
They need a kid who will confidently stare another person in the eye, whether he's a coach on a recruiting visit or an acclaimed professor in class or a USC linebacker across the line of scrimmage or whatever comes later in life.
"I tell these guys all the time, the same mentality you take into a football game, you're going to take into a board meeting," Shaw said. "When you're the CEO of whatever company, you are going to walk into that board meeting with the same mentality we walk out onto the football field with."What they're offering is a chance for kids to find other kids like themselves: the almost insane 1%, the academically, physically and socially talented. Having recently finished Sheryl Sandberg's Lean In, I'd love to know if there are coaches of women's sports doing the same thing.
One of my favourite recent additions to my twitter stream is life100yearsago.* It's a group account sharing daily snippets from diaries of New Zealanders from one century ago.
The account is run out of the Ministry of Culture and Heritage, as part of the WW100 programme, with a number of contributing organisations who are digitising material and writing tweets, including Te Papa, Kete Horowhenua and the Wairarapa Archive.
Te Papa is digitising the diary of Leslie Adkin, a Levin farmer, amateur photographer and scholar who made significant contributions to New Zealand science. Adkin did not serve in the war, but his diary describes life in New Zealand over this time. In 1913 the war is still a far-off thing; Adkin's diary currently records farming life (putting the "old ewes" through an arsenic footbath) and his steady pursuit of his soon-to-be wife, Maud (a saga a friend has described as Love in a Time Of Innocence: the Seduction of Maud).
One recent entry caught my eye though. Adkin's diary entries are usually short, but on the 18th of April 1913 he and a group of friends, including Maud (who seemed less discombobulated by the city than their other companions, he notes, admiringly) trained to Wellington to see the HMS New Zealand.
I've taken his lengthy entry from that trip and played with it below. It captures a sense of awe, but also of Adkin's lively and intense observation and curiosity.
Recently on a night out a group of friends and I got into a debate about whether kids should have limited screen time. Me, I'm confused by how we encourage kids to "get lost" in books but are freaked out when they get lost in an iPad; my friends - the parents amongst us - talked about the "zombie face" they see their kids assume when they become passive ingestors of screen content.
A few days after that, a friend sent me a link to Aaron A. Reed's 18 Cadence, and I've been returning to it over and over again.
18 Cadence tells the story of a house in New York and its occupants over a century. You click through years, rooms, and characters, and learn each person's story and their perception of the other characters along the way. You can also take the objects offered as you move through the years and remix them into your own stories, which can then be shared.
It's designed for the iPad, but I've just been fooling around on my laptop, because I'm more interested in following the story than shaping it for myself (a personal failure - I'm quite a passive reader by nature). Here's a blog post by Reed about the game/story.
I've found 18 Cadence really compelling. It feels like a missing bridge between using your imagination and having the screen give you the story that we debated over dinner. Just like Pippin Barr's games invite you to scrutinise your morals and assumptions, Reed's story invites you to explore and exert your curiosity.
Girls on relationships this week.
Chloe Howl's 'No Strings': an appealingly Britishly dirty-mouthed take on a one-night stand (plus, spot those fuzzy Foster the People beats)
If I could make a couple of extra days in each week, I would spend them on two things:
Museopunks is a podcast for the progressive museum. Each month, we’ll invite passionate practitioners to tackle prominent issues and big ideas facing museums in the modern age. With innovation, experimentation and creativity as focus points, Museopunks features forward-thinking people and projects that push the sector into new territories.The first episode of Museopunks has just been released, launched at Museums and the Web. Titled 'Kick out the jams', the episode investigates museums in "the age of scale". It begins with Jeffrey and Suse introducing themselves, then looking at this idea with two people: the Smithsonian's Michael Edson, and New Zealand's own Paul Rowe, of Vernon Systems.
A little pop selection, to make up a little for the sad boys we've had recently.
Frida Sundemo is one of my high rotate Scandi poppers. 'Jaguar' is just too lyrically ridiculous for me to handle, but I've come to love both 'Indigo' ('Impossible to rise / With shoulder blades of velveteen') and 'Snow' (Goodbye Mr Snow / I'm begging you to go').
While we're Scandi popping, some new Fallulah (fun, but still not nearly as good as 'Out of it')
And a complete change of pace for Dark Dark Dark's 'What I Needed', which has this rather sweet nostalgic juke-boxy sound. Put on your pouffy skirt, Brylcream your hair, and have a good sway around your bedroom.
Exhibitions at movie theatres, missed connections in New York museums, and two exhibitions at the Sarjeant Gallery.
Art exhibitions go to the movies - The Globe and Mail
Exhibition: Great Art On Screen
Missed connections in the art world - Artinfo
Sarjeant Gallery exhibitions
Contemporary raï and Berber music embrace Auto-Tune so heartily precisely because glissandos are a central part of vocal performance (you can’t be a good singer unless your voice can flutter around those notes): sliding pitches sound startling through it. A weird electronic warble embeds itself in rich, throaty glissandos. The struggle of human nuance versus digital correction is made audible, dramatized. Quite literally this is the sound of voice and machine intermodulating – a far cry from [music critic Jody] Rosen’s conclusion that T-Pain uses the technology to ‘impersonate a computer’.Chalk another one up for machines that make art. Speaking of which, when I sent the top article to another friend, he responded with this - and I'm not even sure where to go when the world starts imploding like that.
A friend sent me a link to this post about Leo Caillard's Art Games with the single word "Heresy".
The Art Newspaper recently published its yearly issue on exhibition stats. Among some of the interesting articles:
The 2012 attendance survey - led by a tour of paintings from the Mauritshuis to the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum
The massive boom of museum visitation and building in Brazil
And this fascinating opinion piece by Blake Gopnik on the ever-growing, and in his opinion, spirit-sapping, focus on blockbuster and temporary exhibitions, on which I have yet to make up my mind.
So, I don't usually talk much about work here, but I am quite, quite excited about an experiment we are running at The Dowse this week.
I love watching exhibitions get installed. That kind of behind-the-scenes access - along with visiting the collection store - is the biggest treat of the job. There's an intimacy to the way you can be with the art, and a camaraderie in the team, that just makes it a lovely experience.
This week, we're experimenting with opening this up to visitors. Normally, it would be risky to have people in the space while we deal with loan works, trundle scissor lifts around, futz with lighting and play with power cables. But Kerrie Poliness's big elegant drawings - executed straight onto the wall with permanent markers - are basically damage-proof.
Plus, the process is the point of the work, as you can see in this blog post I wrote about the works. Letting visitors watch the drawings get made - allowing them to be part of the planning, if they're in the room at the right time - felt like such a natural idea. We've seen time-lapses of installations of Poliness's work, but never an open installation. So that's what we're trying.
| Laura choses her four starting points for the drawing by eye - no rulers allowed. Kerrie Poliness Black O 1997. Jim Barr and Mary Barr Loan, Collection of The Dowse. |