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Seriously. I asked myself that question as I wandered through the Herb Ritts: LA. Style exhibition at the Getty. And yet, there was no escaping it. That not only was a Janet Jackson video (Love Will Never Do Without You) but the gallery showing the videos (I’ll assume Cherish and Wicked Game were also showing, I just missed being aghast at them. Sorry, Chris and Madge.) was packed. So people could watch music videos. This is what happens when MTV just drops the M from its name. Continue reading →
Man, the 80s and 90s were a heady time for fashion and celebrity. All you had to do was either be a model or someone who took pictures of models (or rock stars, movie stars, athletes…) and you became so famous that people started equating your work taking pretty pictures of pretty people being pretty with fine art. At least in Los Angeles in 2012.
Earlier this month, Huffington Post, while writing about her being honored by MOCA, referred to Annie Leibovitz, rather foolishly, as arguably the greatest photographer ever (which it has since changed…thanks to the guffaws of roughly every commenter, ever) and I dismissed it as general Deitchian bullshit in service to the cult of celebrity. After all, he’s already staged a Dennis Hopper exhibition and has taken up permanent residence in James Franco’s ass. Continue reading →
Copenhagen: Roofs Under the Snow - Kroyer, permanent exhibit, LACMA
I went to LACMA last week and when the exhibition we planned on visiting wasn’t fully operational at the time, we decided to go up to the mysterious third floor of the Ahmanson Building, which featured a weird Rodarte exhibition where unappealingly 70s looking dresses were allegedly inspired by medieval religious iconography (hmm…) but was mostly sponsored galleries of artwork donated from private collections.
There was a lot of ornately carved marble, sandstone and alabaster, great, big Victorian portraits of unfortunate looking British people, various Rodins, Degas, Gauguins and Monets, and on a wall, next to a doorway to a gallery was a tiny, tiny canvas called Copenhagen: Roofs Under the Snow by Peder Severin Krøyer. Continue reading →
Jerry considers confessing that he’s a hack while China thinks “Ooh, pretty.”
Work of Art ended Wednesday night, and despite all my complaints about how lackluster the season’s been, it rights its ship by rewarding the best technical artist in the finale who also put together the most cohesive show and I find I have nothing to say but that I’m glad it ended the way it did. Continue reading →