She looked at the center column of the Home Page and sighed.
"Remember the good old days, when I thought I was so clever posting:
'Can I dress up like diva , Scope out the whole Armory Show and still have a pulse ?'"
"Fondly," he said. "After all, it was only 2 years ago. Where did all these fairs come from?"
"All those fairs, all that art, now I can't possibly put all the names into a sentence. The gap is just too wide to bridge ."
The beaver agreed, "Can't think of any sentence with "Volta" in it, can you?"
She nodded, he pondered this as he kept adding ink to the dark red dot he was drawing in his sketchbook.
"That's New York for you. Too little time, too much art. LA artists must be more relaxed, maybe we should move out west, stop chasing around in the snow and the subway, just
paint and write by the pool ."
"Do you think we could take it?" she asked.
"Nope." he said. "Hey there's our bus, run!"
Monday, March 17th, 2008
The cell phone rang, he read the caller ID - "She"
He answered, "Where are you?"
"On Fifth near the MoMA - there's a huge piece of performance art - all green!"
"No, my dear," he said, "That's the St. Patrick's Day Parade. Let's get inside a nice cozy gallery or two before things get crazy..."
"Meet me at the Fuller Building."
They met in the doorway of 41 East 57th Street, at Madison, prepared to enjoy a quiet afternoon in the building that is home to so many of their favorite galleries. But it seemed somehow, unfamiliar. Picking up the brochure in the lobby, they read many names that were new to them, and exploring the halls, the found many wonderful presentations of fine art from Asia, all genres, from contemporary digital art to ancient dragons...
"Dragons..." he said. "Didn't someone say something about dragons?"
The beaver was waiting for the elevator, gnawing on a green bagel.
"You, " she said to the beaver, "You knew about this all along!"
"Yes," replied the beaver, "It's Asia Week in New York City, art fairs, auctions, visiting dealers from all over the world. So let's stay for the receptions this evening, from 6-8 this evening,then get more info about all the exciting events and shows around town."
"Where?" he asked.
The beaver looked up. "See that navigation bar? Click Exhibitions and read the special events section of the 'Short List Of What To See,' right here on Resolve40.com."
"But there's more," she said, looking down. "Here you can read about Asian Contemproary Art Week." She pointed at this link:
photo credit LASZLO ILYES
Mad March - Part One
(Prisoners of Art - the sequel)
It's been a little over a year and our heroine and hero have just managed to free themselves from those orange wristbands.
"Where are we?" he asked.
She looked around. "The Upper East Side."
"Thank God," he says. "Madison Avenue, and not an art fair in sight."
They both shuddered, knowing one couldn't be far off.
A beaver passed them, glancing at his watch and muttering, "I'm late.."
"Oh look!" she cried as they approached 75th Street - "It' s the zoo."
"But we're not in the Park.."
But indeed the corner seemed very zoo-like, with plaques on the stone wall describing wonderful creatures - from birds to bobcats, even the mock, oops, we mean mud turtle - and how they lived, in the wonderful habitat, called "Animal Estates," just below the wall.
"Look," she said, pointing to a plaque, "The beaver. He must be going to his lodge."
"No," he said, "The beaver is walking over there.."
The beaver entered the building under the large eagle's nest, passing through familiar glass doors.
"Hey," he said, "This is the Whitney."
"Could it be..." her voice trailed off.
Yes, March 2008 was upon them and, yes, that meant THE WHITNEY BIENNIAL. Our protagonists, the beaver, and myriad members of the fourth estate swarmed high and low about the museum, taking in the works of 81 artists in an exhibition they heard described as one to "take the temperature of contemporary American Art."
"I didn't even know it was sick," she protested, but curiouser and curiouser, they roamed the halls and stairs and galleries, taking in every genre and medium, more moving images than a multiplex, many a looking glass, the world's largest litter box, and even an impromptu (?) performance (?) in the stairwell.
"Well, at least that's over," he said as they descended the last flight.
A familiar voice approached behind - "I'm late, I'm late..."
The beaver passed them and headed briskly downtown.
"Now," she said , I'll bet he's going to the zoo."
But no, the beaver turned left at 67th.
"He's going toward Park," he said, to the Armory.
"Oh no," she said, "Not an art fair!"
"No, it's - more of the Biennial."
In fact, for 3 weeks the Biennial exhibition continues at the Armory, presented there by the Art Production Fund, free of charge.
As they stared at the fluorescent installation high on the wall of the Armory's cavernous drill hall, they saw the beaver scurry upstairs. Following him to the very top, the lost his trail.
"You go right," he said, "I'll go left."
She heard music from a little room. Entering, she saw an electric guitar being gently strummed, again and again, by a feather attached to a turntable. The she heard him call out, "Quick, over here."
"Is it the beaver?"
"No, a little bird is trapped in the attic."
She dashed in only to find that the bird was actually an animated image projected on the wall.
"He's not trapped!"
"He doesn't know that..."
The beaver entered, cutting short their critique.
"Time to go, time to go..." said the beaver. "Get back to the lodge. They're coming."
"Who?' they asked.
"Dragons!" the beaver said, and ran away.
to be continued...
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