chrisgiarmo.com

posts tagged ‘festival’

finds under the bridge

Monday, September 28th, 2009

on saturday i popped by the the art under the bridge festival presented by the DUMBO arts council. i exited the train station at york st. and immediately encountered people wearing full, face-covering bodysuits made of colorful knit yarn. the streets of DUMBO (which is the acronym for the neighborhood that exists Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) were filled with street vendors selling art, food and putting on public performances. i only got to partake in a minimal portion of this festival as i got there kind of late, but i was still able to catch some interesting stuff. my favorite part of the festival was the advent of the “open studio.”

DAC created a phenomenal guide (that can be viewed in its entirety here) that presented all events and artists participating in a stunningly designed fashion. an excerpt of the open studios chart is depicted below. the color, layout and typography are exquisite. i brought one home (it’s pretty big when unfolded - larger than a newspaper, and square) and i’m debating whether hanging it on my wall next to the owl print (pictured above) that i purchased from sesame letterpress, a design studio that prints and embosses on antique (sometimes foot-operated!) letterpresses.

i visited several open studios (mostly ones housed underneath the smack mellon gallery) and a few housed at 55 washington st (including sesame letterpress, mentioned above).

ari tabei creates these elaborate bags, blankets and dresses made of what appeared to be trash - recycled newspaper, plastic and rubber. “redress” pictured below.

lea bertucci had an interesting installation comprised of two motorized slide projectors with slides of naturally lit, industrial wasteland-like interiors. when the viewer’s body interrupted one of the projectors beams, it cast a shadow on the wall revealing hidden aspects of the other projector’s image.

yoko inoue’s studio was filled with fascinating ceramic masks featuring the likeness of hello kitty and other pop japanese figures, but ceramic with hair pieces attached to them, giving them the impression of ritualistic idol versus kitsch object.

kwabena slaughter creates extremely long (up to 54′) lightboxes showcasing slide film he shot using a specially modified, motorized camera that slowly advances a roll of film through a camera to create one continuous, time-encapsulating image.

lovid creates interactive hubs, video installation and hi-techno-plasticine installation art and sculpture.

several of the above artists will be represented at art in odd places SIGN Festival from oct. 1 through 26. the festival (from what i can gather) features all types of site specific art, this year on 14th street in manhattan.

what really excited me about this festival was the positive impression of DUMBO it gave. from years of rehearsing in this wealthy, loft-y neighborhood peppered with overpriced design stores and organic markets, i had developed an idea of the neighborhood that alienated me from it. but seeing artists in their 20s and 30s working in this seemingly too-expensive hood made it all seem a bit more within reach. not to mention, the public projects that have occurred there are stunning. lights and benches under the manhattan bridge overpass (the namesake of the neighborhood) are stunning, and gave a location for video art projects at the DAC festival. the square filled with metal sculptures and cafe tables just north of the bridge makes the neighborhood reticent of a hip european art district.

as i was leaving i picked up the print featured below. two-octopuses in love. it was a beautiful contrast to the steel cold modernism of the neighborhoods usual representation and architecture. the artist, daria tessler, told me she silk screens her prints in her bedroom.

where’s chris? [algunas palabras en sevilla]

Friday, May 15th, 2009

[some words in seville]

i was hooked up with a big dance alum, Ally, via other company members before heading to sevilla. Ally lived here for years (she’s a flamenco dancer) and now lives in cádiz, apparently the oldest city in europe, and a fabulous beach town. i will be visiting her there on sunday for a few days before heading back to france (paris, to be exact). she suggested i meet up with Samantha, a dear friend of hers, who was taking a flamenco masterclass this morning with andres pena, this amazing flamenco dancer.

i haven’t seen much flamenco and so it was fascinating to watch a class. andres actually sang the songs as he was teaching, and there was a live guitar player. afterwords, i hung out with Samantha and some of the other dancers and spoke to them in broken spanish about what i loved about watching them dance. i told them that the contrast between the fluid upper body and the lower body’s rhythm and percussion was amazing. also the eye focus. they said that it was natural for them, and it was funny that i found it fascinating!

it was 1pm. we drank beer.

then i wandered into town and had a sandwich and another beer. and i wrote this poem :

________________________________________

WRITINGS TO ASSIST IN THE SWIFT DOWNING OF BEER IN SPAIN
VOL. I

Alas there is still beauty in white, translucent ceramic bowls holding soup.
And choppy bits of mutual understanding.
And in the unison of an expert flamenco class that one is inappropriately privy to.
Time and step and stomp.
And contrast between upper and lower body. Serpentine and solidity.
“For us it is native.”
I’d say I still have about 17 sips left.
En Español : diez y siete trajos.
The immaculate camisa of a waiter. Eager and alone.
. . .
I just ate a fuck load of olives.
In just a few weeks, I’ll be in jamón withdrawl.
. . .
The ways that vowels at the end of words make awkward combinations simple.
“Hielosol” –> ice sun.
I have to stop for a second. I think it might be time for a siesta.

________________________________________

then i headed to the cathedral. fear not, friends, pictures coming soon. in the plaza outside in my tipsy state, i let this street urchin woman read my fortune and give me some herbs. i gave her a bunch of change even though she demanded “papel, papel moneda!” from what i could understand, i will receive an important phone call and live very long. praise Him on high.

after an hour or so in the largest gothic cathedral in existence, and a quick nap, i headed out to recharge my phone minutes - to receive my important phone call, of course. in the street i encountered a large festival for some saint. marching bands, processions of people, minstrel types, and a liter with a cross draped in white on it. then i went to burger king for the first time in years. it was comforting in a weird way. on the way home i saw a bunch of teenager break-dancing in an alley.

passion.

my hostel plays an american radio station in the lobby at all times. i just heard “born in the u.s.a.” weird.