30 under 2023

Top 30, 30 under 30, Top 100 most influential

Fuck, Im 30. I didn’t make many of the lists, I can’t say that I expected to make any of the lists. Yet another year goes past where I see these awards come out and feign happiness for the people I “know of” or people who the people I know know whom made these lists. Im not here downplaying Nan Goldin making no. 1 of the top 100 on ArtReview, her work with PAIN no doubt deserves it, I just kind of also want to vomit at the constant influx of studio portraits. Hot artist, clothes that make no sense for the studio (I get it, its a staged photo), dilapidated chair, blank stare, (don’t go look through my Instagram and dox me for doing the same, I obvs would never). Put a table full of half squeezed tubes of paint on it, maybe a selectively open book, some pastels strewn across the floor *starts ascending*.

I’ve really been bumming people out when I mention that Im reading Dave Cullen’s book Columbine. It is beautifully and centrically written, withholding no detail, no matter how small nor gruesome. It is also upsetting to read the now defunct tense of the tragedy, the book was published in 2009, retelling the story of what was once one of the most gruesome and unbelievable acts of terroristic domestic violence in the modern US, with the knowledge of what is yet to come. Cullen wrote another book, which I am hesitant to read, about the Parkland shooting. “I swore I would never go back,” Cullen says in the intro to Parkland, in reference to his hesitancy to return to such a subject after the PTSD he went through post Columbine release. That was only in the sample of the book, also it was where I rethought my ability to take in another tragedy of an anthology (god its gross to think of a series of tellings of school shootings as an anthology).

Not that there is much escape from tragedy at the moment. There is a genocidal massacre of currently tens of thousands of innocent people happening, probably soon to unfortunately be hundreds of thousands, hidden under the guise of a “right to defend themselves”. Is an information war the next chapter in the evolution of war practices. I remember as a child and teen obsessed with the stories around WWII and WWI, I would read whatever I could on war, of any sort. I remember being confused learning of terms like guerrilla warfare, or trench warfare, being newer more widely adopted forms of battle, shifting from more “traditional” forms of warfare before. Learning about trench warfare I would think back to images and stories of the American Revolution or the Civil War, how dumb people were to stand in a line, facing another army, often even announcing their different stages of attack, siege, or defense with song and drum. Of course it is not as if this evolution happened over night, but we tend to be taught things in this cliff-noted version of events by the centuries and decades. Now we see this information war playing out every day on every possible platform, this sort of he said she said back and forth of blame, cause and effect. And often with an information war, or a war of words if we are going to boil it down to it’s core, the loudest voice comes out on top. However one voice that has had it’s internet, electricity, water, food, health, medicine, safe passage, connection to the outside world, sense of peace and safety (if there ever was one) cut off. It would be foolish to call any of this an even playing field.

It’s confusing and upsetting and enraging to live through the next evolution of warfare, a tactic that seeks to spread hate and misinformation faster than our ability to disprove it, just as it was difficult for previous generations to live through previous versions of the same. It is hard not to be reactionary, it is difficult not to jump to conclusions, and it is difficult not to generalize my feelings. It’s also difficult to feel like my voice matters. But I am reading and learning and educating myself however I can. (that sentence sounds like it was pulled from a YouTube blogger apology script lol, has David Dobrik made a public comment on Israel/Palestine?). Some recommendations below on topics and readings which I have enjoyed, if anyone has gotten this far in reading this post.

The Palestinian Laboratory

Ten Myths About Israel

Fariha Roisin’s Substack, How to Cure a Ghost

In the meantime, I am occupying my brain by looking through the artists of the Top Whatever lists, trying to justify an uneven playing field by scouring for any nepo-baby, grew up rich, brown nosing hints I can find and privately doxing them in my mind. I will also continue to ride the subway to work with the Columbine book pressed firmly down to my thighs, craning my tech-neck down too avoid some stranger on the train seeing the bold black word COLUMBINE on the cover and think something weird of me. Because obviously the worst thing someone could face on the train is me reading a book about school shooters.

Something about watching an adult man in business too slim of dress pants hop onto a motorized stand up scooter on my way into work gets under my skin. At once it fills me with imminent doom and also gives me something to see myself as better than.

Maybe I just can’t afford a scooter

I was thinking about painting conventions, and how I was taught in school the rules of painting. The rules of color theory, no tube color, mix your colors, use complimentary colors to bring down tone, dont add black or white out of the tube to your colors. Never highlight with white paint, start with an underpainting, build up colors and shades. I reckon I dont follow any of these rules now necessarily, but I do see the value in learning them as a sort of “best practice”. I continue to add white paint to red paint and continually I am upset at the pink tone I am given. I need to practice mixing flesh tones more, is it bad that I only really know how to mix white flesh tones? But I guess it would be odd if I only knew how to mix non-white flesh tones.

I saw shows today in Tribeca, really good painting shows there. I got to see a painting in person that I was looking forward to seeing, one I fell in love with on instagram first. Its a painting by Olga Abeleva, Underworld. I guess I will try and add an image of it in this blog post, idk if I can do that, maybe I’ll hyperlink it. I love the limited palate, there might be no more than three colors in it, yellow, muted green, and blue, or maybe purple. And I love the paint handling, I think its incredibly sophisticated, even though one might say that it is technically lacking in areas of ‘representation’. I guess that is why I was thinking so much on painting rules and conventions, if this painting was technically handled following all of the rules, I doubt it would resonate half as much as it does.

The scene is a set of escalators going up and down, with only the upper landing in view, the low landing may be the implied descent into the “Underworld” that the title suggests. The primary subject seems to focus on a man in a trench coat carrying a black cat in a caged box, descending down the escalator. He is tucking away his head as if to avoid catching a glance of the couple across from him ascending. It feels like that moment when you can feel a set of eyes starting you down, piercing you, the discomfort of the stare weighing physically on your own ability to turn and meet the eyes of the starer. (I just noticed I used to phrase “I reckon” in the first paragraph as if Im a sweet southern lady accepting a cold glass of sweet tea as I sit in a friends house on a hot summer day). The man wears pointed brown boots, that seem to weigh so heavily on the escalator step he stands on, even though there is no painted shadow or connection between his boot and the metal grid. I like that maybe he was painted first, and then the steps were painted in afterwards, each line of a step ending gently as the paint brush was lifted as to not mess up the brown stroke of the boot edge.

Below that man is a couple, the man laying a kiss on the woman’s left eye, she seems disinterested. They are very darkly and gently painted, her left foot seems to snake around the mans leg as he steps into the embrace. Above this couple is a second couple, painted in full light, their faces sculpted and rounded out like melons, with sharp pointed noses. As if they are maybe a future version of the dark couple who is descending, having found their full filling and expression down below. There is a bushel of black hair below what may be the man’s head, potentially implying a third person, but I prefer to see it as a very thick and well taken care of half of a moustache. This couple suspiciously watches the man with the caged cat as he avoids eye contact.

This might be the last paragraph, but behind the sculpted couple is a cast shadow of two figures locked in a kiss, but the angle of the light source and the couple inbetween the source and the wall suggests it is them, however they are not engaging in the embrace the shadow suggests. Maybe the spirit of the couple has awakened as they ascend from the depths, and it has taken on it’s own existence in the shadow realm. (isnt shadow realm a mortal combat reference?). The way the paint is handled in the shadow feels very physical, which I guess is a artsy cop-out way of saying I can see the visible brushstrokes. It is as if a power washer has drawn on the outline of a couple in remembrance, or an atomic bomb has exploded and left a sort of nuclear imprint.

Jesus this is getting long, but I cant not talk about the figure dashing out of a door in the top right of the scene, he moves with such speed that his body has shifte like harry potter as he does the whole fuckin teleporty magic thing, into a green and yellow gaseous semi-solid matter. Also, are they just going to have us all accept that Harry just figured out how to do that shit over the summer while away from hogwarts? Or maybe there was some rule that wizards arent allowed to do that shit until they reach a certain age, so maybe we can accept that he learned it over time, and was ready to do it when the time has come. Ill look up what that teleporty thing is called to finish this off.

Its called Apparition, ironically.

Underworld, Olga

Every time you ask for a burger above medium at a restaurant, it’s like they decide against that for you and go ahead with a bloody, rare burger. They feel like they know what’s best for me. Why does rare meat equal manliness? Rare meat gives me a stomach ache.