search and research

I write this blogue entry a bit later than usual, in a coffee shop at King's College. I just briefly met the director of their Brazil Institute, a very nice chap, where my cousin is based for her research. This trip has been a good balance of having fun, seeing familiar faces, meeting new ones, and doing some studying.

Since I have been having issues sleeping again (need to lay off the caffeine earlier), I have been reading a book on New Media Art here and there. I have also been making some concerted effort of going to exhibitions that may somehow be informative for what I have been doing in the studio and classrom.

Yesterday was an atypical day, as a lot of unplanned stuff happened. In many ways London has been quite an erotic city to me, meaning it has stimulated me in so many unexpected directions that it was quite fitting, or doomed to happen, that I got laid yesterday around noon. I happened to meet someone who lived a few blocks over and one thing did lead to another, even though it was sort of anonymous sex, not a first for me in this town anyway. I'd normally not write about stuff like this on the blogue (specially since I rarely get laid while I travel), but I imagine no one is reading it anyway, so why the hell not? Of course my encounter at the Gwen Morris House put me way off schedule (as I had to eat lunch and re-shower again), so by the time I left it was close to three o'clock.




I had plans on meeting my childhood friend Marcia, whom I had not seen in almost 30 years, in Wimbledon, at 6:30 pm, for dinner, so I decided to go to a central location in London and see some of the usual suspects. After some trial and error with the tube (the northern line splits in a weird way), I found my way out of Charing Cross at Trafalgar Square (a place where I had a pretty hot sexual encounter at 4 am back in 1998, coincidentally), and the place was packed. In addition to the phallic Nelson Column, there was a sculpture of a very large blue rooster to its northwest end, which I immediately photographed and thought of it as an allegorical self-portrait (Vagner as a blue cock).







I fought my way through the crowd (how impressive how many people are still touristing London in late November), and made my way to the National Portrait Gallery, as I wanted to see what they had in terms of self-portraiture (as I was thinking of my selfie article).




The whole place made me think that there are way too many portraits out there in the world and that we could all really stop making them from here on. But I did manage to find a self portrait, in fact it was the first sign I saw, the Van Dyck Self-Portrait, which was truly beautiful.




The entire institution made me think about why there is or where the shame in self-portraiture comes from. Is it something aligned with the rise of psychotherapy in the West, where narcissism has been pathologized, or is it even earlier, with the original/inspirational mythology? I did not find any answers there, as unfortunately there were no galleries dedicated to that (the closest was a room with artists depicting artists, where some selfies were included, along with random pieces everywhere). But I did think that there is a lot of vanity in straight forward portraiture, so why is that kind of vanity acceptable but the other not (If we think of the vernacular understanding of nascissism)? Below is a collection of self-portraits with some brief annotations.





Michael Dahl
"Self-portrait"
1691
Oil on canvas
- beautiful face and beautiful garments, why depict oneself otherwise?














Derek Boshier
"Imaginary Portraits"
1988
Ink on paper
- These are very intricate and funny, small in scale, where the artist depicts himself as a variety of others.








The first picture is a self-portrait, by Charles Haslewood Shannon, from 1897, oil on canvas, which is a companion piece to the picture below is Charles Ricketts, who was referred to as his partner, and I imagine they were romantically involved, but the labels on the walls were quite tempered, very British. Shannon had a tragic ending, and the thought of these two being separated by death and canvas made the pair (also displayed with a doorway in between), beautifully melancholic in my mind.

I actually ran into some royalty portraits that were stunning, like the reticular print of the Queen, a painting of Dame Judy Densch, and the two lovely heirs of the throne (Harry and William in uniform, quite lovely).





Celia Paul
"Self-portrait"
2002
Etching




Frank Auerbach
"Self-portrait"
1994-2001
Pencil and charcoal




Michael Landy
"Self-portrait"
2008
Pencil




Stephen Conroy
"Self-portrait"
2002
Etching







Marc Quinn
"Self"
2006
Blood (artist's own), liquid silicone, stainless steel, glass, perspex and refrigeration equipment.
- This piece was pretty impressive, it was a 3D rendition of the artist made with congealed blood, which he redoes every 5 years with new materials and likeness (the first one was done in 1991, all use eight pints of his own blood).

I ended up going to their cafe to see if I could get a second wind and get wifi.



This was one of the best lattes I have had in a while, and weirdly enough, one of the guys that worked there openly and heavily flirted with me, at one point getting himself a cup of coffee, walking by me, winking at me, and sitting nearby. I have no idea what he expected, that I'd rush to sit with him and make an indecent proposal (that is probably exactly what he was expecting), but I had plans already so I bid him adieu, broke his heart until the next tourist came through that he found hot, and found my way to a Starbucks (as they had no wifi, if they did maybe the night might have ended differently). I literally ran into a very handsome museum attendant on my way out of the cloak room (who also winked at me, what the hell?), and got in touch with Marcia to confirm the plans.

I managed to make my way by train to Wimbledon, arrived early and waited until Marcia arrived, which was late, but it was fine. I was extremely tired (standing and walking for hours is hard), but she immediately energized me. We ended up going to a pan-asian restaurant that was pretty good and talked for hours about the good ol' times. Unfortunately their lighting was not the most flattering






She actually brought along a friend called Marcelo, a very nice guy, whom she was obviously trying to hook me up with (I really need to read the horoscope to know that the hell happened yesterday, as I am sure today will be dry as hell). In a way this is so typically Brazilian, I was actually flattered (as I saw it her way of saying she accepts me and she wants me around her). I do this all the time as well, in fact I have to hold myself all the time from contacting stranger and match-making (sometimes BiMWM from Clawson seems to be the perfect fit for the lonely students in Macomb, separated by craigslists entries and categories, but maybe if I just intervened, they could find happiness). Marcelo lives by Vauxhall, so we took the train back together, made lose plans to maybe meet on saturday night (which I am not certain will happen), and I walked all the way to the Oval, and back to my "home". Rosana was there, so we talked about almost 1 in the morning and had an early start this morning. Today I have some interesting appointments, more professional in nature, but I hope to see some old friends as well.




- posted via iPad

Location:Victoria Embankment,London,United Kingdom

Findings

Yesterday started well and went bad, as I lost my long-winded blogue and waited for over an hour for someone to come see my studio, which never happened. Angry and armed (not really), I left the house past noon and made my way to the Oval station.

It was my first time walking there, and though I had no idea where it was exactly, I had a sense it was behind a church. The walk was a bit longer than I thought, I almost hopped on a bus to Victoria instead, but thought the walking would do me good. It's been way colder than I had expected; yesterday I brought my shearling hat with me, it helped a lot.

The destination was the Saatchi Gallery, which was nearby the Sloan Square tube station. The gallery moved from the south bank to this new location, which is very fancy, very high end, with nice shops and restaurants and people that looked like they were from the Upper East Side. I immediately got lost in this neighborhood, failing to look at the map at the station before walking out. Eventually I found a bus stop with a map and realized where I had to go, which was the complete opposite direction I was headed. The building faced a park where a school teacher instructed uniformed girls, I could see them from afar. The day was overcast and the picture did not show everything but still managed some drama.




The building itself seemed very large from the outside, almost palace-like, but inside it felt much smaller (even though the galleries were large and evenly lit). There was a strange disconnect between the exterior (old Britain) and the interior (Chelsea in NYC), and I wonder if things got destroyed or covered during the remodel. I guess I was hoping for something more like São Paulo's Pinacoteca, which managed to combine both styles (maybe it was because that institution was on my mind, having been a co-sponsored for the Mira Schendel at the TM, funded by Banco Itaư). There were approximately 15 galleries on three or four floors, all numbered and easy to find. All galleries showed "new" British artists, and on the wall in the back of the main floor there were photos and bios of the artists shown (most here seemed to be London-based, and all were born after 1975; on subsequent floors their bases seemed to include New York City, Brooklyn, and Los Angeles, and they went as far as being born in the late 60s). There were quite a few good pieces, some pictures with minimal captions below.







Henry Taylor
"What Can I Say?"
2011
Acrylic on canvas, 197 x 241 cm

At this point I noticed my iPhone camera has a problem, what looks like a finger-print or stain (towards the center bottom part of the frame, on wall and floor below painting). Funny enough this did not show on the video camera setting, and I could not clean if up either. Must be a sign I need a new camera/phone.








Eddie Martinez
"The Feast"
2010
Mixed media on canvas (triptych), 243.8 x 853.4 cm




Helen Verhoeven
"Event Two"
2008
Acrylic on canvas, 208.5 x 418 cm

In the film/video room, the work "In Ictu Oculi" by Greta Alfaro (from 2009, a single-channel HDvideo, 10:35 minutes), played on a flat screen TV in a darkened room, which I found very odd (I believe this film/video room has no proper lighting, being very small and intimate). I would have loved to have seen this piece in a gallery with other pieces, though the audio might have gotten lost. This piece reminded me of a piece I saw years ago, in Chicago I believe, with my parents, at the MCA. That video showed a somewhat mundane office through a stationary camera. A few minutes in a very large pelican is thrown into the room and begins to make a mess out of it, mostly in its attempt to stead itself on the piles of papers and other office objects. The effect was both funny and unsettling, and the feeling of it being a breathing picture came across very well (flat screens have a great way of making videos look like living paintings). This piece was more self-conscious; it displayed a formal dining room table set, with a pinkish table cloth and fancy service ware in nature, on a sunny day, with a beautiful mountain range in the background. For a while the wind made the table cloth move (it also made the camera move a bit too). Because of the constancy of the image it was very easy to pick minor changes, so when the first vulture shadow flew over the framed image, it foreshadowed what was to come in a nice way (one could hear them but not see them for a bit). Eventually one large vulture descend and begins exploring the surroundings. In a few minutes dozens of them surround the area and begin eating what was in service (which turns out to be raw meat, a rib rack visible at one point). Their tenacity and aggression was very unsettling, and yet their plumage looked extremely beautiful under the sun light (funny enough they really sounded like chickens). I captured some video along with stills, if I can uploaded them through this app you will see it below.





I continued through the top floor and saw some stuff that looked more like the usual British art, which is both funny and witty and weird (though I am not sure if they were all UK-based, no one seems to live where they are from anymore anyway, but artists move to specific cities). Maybe this image I have of Young Brit Art has still to do with the Sensation show, some things do persist. Below some of the eye-catching pieces.













Wendy Mayer
"After Louise", "Fly Away Peter", and "Gold Watch"
2011, 2011, and 2012
Paper-mâché, wax, acrylic, eyes, mixed media
dimensions varied (they were small though, a bit above knee high)











Amir Chasson
"Three Dimensional Topo Using Contor Lines", "Duncan's Stimulus", "Hand-Drawn Topo Map", "Pie Chart", "Green GT", "Filled Surface", "Special Purpose Pictorial Graph", "No Other", and "Mat is Helping Us"
All 2009-2010
Oil and household paint on canvas
dimensions varied





Alejandro Guijarro
"Stanford I"
2012
C-type print
117 x 240 cm

This series was truly impressive in its economy and presentation (shown to what appeared to be in scale, I actually thought they were black boards, it seems he photographed around many universities' science classrooms and other science institutions around the UK, Europe and the US). Another piece that was both enjoyable and funny was Andra Ursuta's "Vandal Lust" from 2011, shown below. This work could be seen from different viewing areas (a mezzanine and the actual gallery floor), and it implied its kinetic-ability though the damage placed on the wall. Up close the materials appeared way more mundane and fragile (carboard, recycled stuff), thus contradicting the implied force of the catapult.













Two small scale figurine pieces that made me laugh out loud in joy and surprise, because they were so odd and yet had such a nod to Victorian England.







Francis Upritchard
"The Misanthrope"
2011
Modeling material, foil, wire, acrylic paint, silk, wood, polyester padding, nylon, costume jewelry, found table.
Figure: 59 x 24 x 30 cm, table: 80 x 80 x 53 cm




Kasper Kovitz
"Carnalitos (Unamuno)"
2010
Iberico ham and concrete
50 x 29 x 29 cm

I ended my couple hours at the Saatchi at the lower level, where the print shop was located. I did not take any pictures, but they had some Chapman Brothers prints titled "Exquisite Corpse" that went for 960 pounds each, that were just beautiful. I almost bought one for myself, but thought it would be a hassle to bring it back to the US. But they were truly magical. It was actually a nice thing that they have that room that, because even though some of the stuff is expensive (like the 5,000 Hirst prints) for the average buyer, they did have some more affordable stuff (in the 200 range), and to me it opened up art to a potentially young or new set of collectors, which I find to be more accepting in European middle class than in America (where people will spend as much if not more for a store-bought poster). The last room I went to was a site-specific installation by Richard Wilson, who was born in 1953. It was by far the most impressive work in the building, perhaps because with it came some experience and finesse. At first it appeared that the ceiling had been reproduced on the floor of the gallery, albeit in a darker shade. I then noticed a line that divided and imagined that maybe a black gauzy fabric had been stretched over the entire thing, creating a perimeter that divided the gallery into two horizontally stacked parts. The viewing area (you saw "20:50" from above), was packed with kids, and once they cleared out I could see it better, and it was then that nothing made sense, as the step-down peninsula did not go anywhere, it appeared to be a flat line and not something that could hold a person (the volume below its edge disappeared into the reproduced ceiling on the floor as I imagined the piece to be). It was then I realized the whole room was filled with oil to that peninsula brim, and what we saw was the ceiling reflected onto the dark slick surface. This is why I often like to read the labels after I see the piece, so that I can have my unadulterated experience with it, and then transpose the artist's intention onto it.













I ended u leaving the Saatchi after that, and even though it was relatively early (around 3 pm). It was still freezing, and I did not know what to do. I was going to eat lunch at Sloan Square but all the places seemed too fancy (even though I could afford them). My plan was to look at m guide book in the restaurant, but once I nixed that idea, I decided to hop on the tube and figure something from there. I ended up heading to Earls Court to see my old stomping grounds, but I hopped on the Circle line instead of the District, so I got off South Kensington and waited for the next train. The more I thought the more I realized there was nothing waiting for me in Earl's Court (it had been over 15 years since I lived there), at best some cheap Chinese restaurant. It was then that I looked to the right and saw a sign that read "to Museums", and I knew I had found my next stop. I ended up going to the Victoria and Albert Museum, a truly majestic place.




The place was huge, but I was glad to be able to drop off my coat and walk around a bit, I walked towards the 80s fashion exhibition and looked at the costumes in the vitrine. I've seen so many fashion shows in these encyclopedic museums lately that by the time I got to the entrance the cover charge did not seem to be worth the experience. I then tested the wifi situation and sat down for a bit to post pictures only, check email, and rest.












Eventually I made my way to the second floor to see an exhibition titled "Tomorrow" by Elmgreen&Dragset. This piece turned out to be a five part installation fashioned as an apartment, where viewers were encouraged to peruse the many rooms, such as the vestibule, living and dining room (the table was cracked in the middle, an acrylic black table with a laser cut), then into a hallway, through a kitchen and studio and finally a bedroom. This was one of the most fascinating experiences I have ever had (in the darkened bedroom there was a bearded young man wearing a suit who seemed to only speak French as part of the piece). By the time I left the V&A I realized that the construction outside the museum, which advertised new upscale condos in the area (there were scaffolding covered with ads for such venture right by the entrance of the museum, from the tube station one had to walk through it), were actually a part of the building, which made the whole thing gain yet another dimension. Unfortunately photography was not allowed, but there is a site that goes with the piece that might provide some extra information.

www.vam.ac.uk/tomorrow

[the link has a wealth of information]

Before I left I walked through the classical sculpture section, which I always find so beautiful, and had a chance encounter with an unexpectedly extremely erotic Theseus and Minotaur sculpture. I wonder if others saw it as I saw, because among the so many similar pieces it was so masked.





By then it seemed the museum was getting ready to close (it was past 5:30), so I headed out back home, and stopped at the chip shop on my way "home" for a late lunch/early dinner (the lady in the counter gave me a scroll chinese year calendar, which I thought was sweet). I had a quiet night, found my lost blogue and published it (though I forgot to fix the typos and forewent the placement of the pics), made some contacts for today, headed early to bed (around 10 pm). I woke back up around midnight, the neighbor was being noisy, and did not get back to sleep for yet another couple hours, and finally slept until almost 8 am. I am still tired but have little ambition as far as what I want to accomplish today, just a couple stops before dinner with an old friend.







- posted via iPad

Location:Halsmere Road,Lambeth,United Kingdom

found lost blog (amen to auto save, don't hate this app anymore)

I am sitting in my room typing this blogue on my iPad, and I can hear the children playing outside, I guess we are near a school, no surprising given the residential nature of this part of town. Normally I'd be writing in the commons area, where there is wifi, but I am in my room because they are going to show it to a prospect new renter in 45 minutes and I want to be in the room when that happens (which is very paranoid of me, I know). I am hoping they are true to their national stereotype (English being punctual), and that they show up right at 11 am and not closer to noon. I decided to forego the shower until after that, because the bathroom becomes a wet mess after a shower and that would not be the best light to show the room. This entire situation makes me think of the transient and transitory situation I find myself in.

Yesterday was a typical day of traveling with someone, where I wake up super early (was ready to go by 9:30 am) and by the time everyone is ready 4 hours have gone by. Which is fine. My cousin and I have talked about traveling together, going to conferences together, etc, because we like to travel and we do not like to travel alone (and we know we can trust one another). I am surprising myself for the level of patience I have had, most likely because I am so freaking tired over here for one thing, and the other because I have zero expectations for this trip in the first place. And so far I have thoroughly enjoyed myself, even though others might think of my trip as totally lame.

The first thing I can say is that it was COLD yesterday. I froze my ass off the whole day, and the bag and the coat proved to be somewhat adequate (I now wish I had brought in long underwear, my chest was warm but my legs and face frozen). I also did not bring proper head gear, so I either have a fur-lined headpiece, or the hood of my coat, also furlined. I usually hate wearing hats because of what they do to my hair, and yesterday I had bedhead all day long, which somewhat goes well with the English. I had corncakes/crackers with peanut butter with tea for breakfast and then putzed around the house until my cousin was ready to go. I came to her room and watched her flat-iron her hair while we talked for about an hour, her friend Edu gone jogging. We finally left around 12:30 and walked to this somewhat far away bus stop to take a bus to the Waterloo station, because from there we'd walk to the water front to see the shops and track our way to the Tate Modern. I saw a sign that there is an Ana Mendieta exhibition somewhere (I believe it is at the British Film Institute), so I hope to come back one of these days soon. In fact, Rosana and I have talked about spending a day there so we both can conduct some research (and now I am thinking that I might be able to incorporate Mendieta in the "Selfie" article I am writing at the moment), because they have a "mediateque". If I go see her work there this might be the third continent I see her work in, besides North and South America - I am not sure what that means, but we keep crossing paths. This BFI place also seems to have all kinds of other things going on, such as screenings, etc. I will have to go check their site out once I am back online.

We walked through the waterfront, where there was this cool skateboard underpass that I really want to photograph, but felt stupid doing it, so hopefully I'll get there again. There were tons of little stands selling all kinds of foods and stuff, which in appearance and vibe (mostly vibe), totally reminded me of that Weinnacht market in Berlin (not sure what it called, is it Kristalnacht? or am I confusing with the Nazi stuff?). I bought us both a raspberry hot cocoa which helped the walk. The wind was strong and there was little sun shine. We finally made it to the Tate Modern and I realized that this the third time I come to the Tate Modern. The Tate Gallery, the original outpost (I believe it has changed its name now, to Tate Britain), was a few blocks from my residence in Pimlico, in the late 90s, and coincidentally I only went there once (it was beautiful and boring, like so many museums can be); I did buy a poster I probably have it rolled somewhere in my basement. My second trip to the UK took place in 2004, where I stopped here on my way back from India and stayed with Dom and Brendan. That was the first time I went to the Tate (I think I went twice, once with them, once alone to really see things). I do not remember the Milennium Bridge being there, but if it was I am not sure I actually walked through it. I do remember video-taping with an actual video camera (so many it was in that trip, as I took a big camera to India) my walking back and forth on the bridge because I wanted to do another singing video where I mashed the songs "London London" by Caetano Veloso, and "London" by the Pet Shop Boys (which Brendan and Dom gifted me the CD, as it was my birthday).

I only returned to London again in 2006, again, on my way to a festival, this time in Spain. This trip also took place around my birthday, because a lot of these festivals happen in late Fall (and I had a birthday dinner with a bunch of strangers from all over the world, which was actually lovely - on the previous trip I had my birthday in the airplane, so my actual birthday was about 30 hours long in two continents). That trip was very different, I definitely had an agenda, and in the two days I was here I saw one performance piece and went to about 10 galleries (so maybe I skipped the TM?), all of it by bus, which I usually hate, and I never really got lost (I believe there was an underground strike or something like that). I went to the Barbican, the Serpentine, the White Chapel (a lovely Hans Bellmer exhibition), and a bunch of other smaller institutions that were mostly privately owned the state owned. That time I did my research and planned everything days ahead. This time around I was just happy I packed my bag in time to hop on the plane, so all the research will have to take place here, which is a total exercise on patience, doing all of this writing without the internet to fact check (I may do that before I hit publish, so the text might be less fluid after that). At the Tate we went for the public exhibitions, and if I come back there I might pay to see the Mira Schendel exhibition (the catalogue looked amazing). We might actually go back to attend a lecture on Thursday night, which really excites me (coindidentally, the Time Out London has an article about how going to "lectures" is the new hot ticket in town, the hip thing to do - I'll make sure I'll wear my glasses). That was one funny, thing, I barely saw anyone wearing sunglasses out and about, which is not the case in the US even in overcast days. Anyway, we went through the motions of going from room to room, all packed with people that looked cold and tired (I actually saw people sleeping on the couches and chairs), tons of families and young people, all kinds of languages being spoken at any given room. We looked at art, made comments, took pictures, and talked about all kinds of things. Both of us can talk our ears off, but when we meet we are usually surrounded by family, so we barely get time to talk to one another alone, which is weird because we have both lots of things in common (both academics with traveling abroad under our belt), and yet unless we meet alone (which is always rare), we never talk. So we talked about art (it was funny recognizing and guessing artists I did not even think I could, such as Tracy Emin and William Eggleston). Emin had an interesting quilted piece in a very interesting gallery, with Annette Messager (the work did not seem as impressive in person for some reason), and an artist I am not familiar with called Margaret Harrison. Her piece Homeworkers (1977), totally achieved (in a visual sense), what I tried to achieve in my paintings with ASL, only hers worked better (in all truth I think I have one good painting out of the nine I made, and who knows how the last one, still unfinished, will ever look like). If I can I will go back to check it out.

We started on the forth floor and by the time we finished the second floor Edu had arrived from his run and we tried to meet him (we went downstairs by the escalator, but it skipped the floor he was in, so on the way down he saw us not paying attention to where we were going, and on the way up, after we took the up stairs back, we saw him trying to make a phone call to let us know. A few minutes later we finally figured out a way to meet. A couple things about the Tate Modern: the Engine Hall is being remodeled, in fact it looks as though its floor was being torn down, revealing a lower level. This made me think of all the configurations I had seen the space before, when you could slide down (as I think I did, but not so sure), or when it was filled with sound art by Bruce Naumann (I bought the book and DVD, it was pretty impressive, actually, made me think I was inside an engine room actually). It also made me think of Ai Weiwei's seed pieces (was it sunflower seeds or rice?), which I never saw in person but through a million pictures. The second thing about the TM was its wonderful wifi system, which made me wish they were me ubiquitous in London. I still find this lack of connectivity the hardest thing about traveling abroad these days, even though I am totally enjoying my slow pace here. It is not as bad as it could have been, because at least in a few bursts of time I can connect while I am here (so it is not total isolation like I had in Argentina). I guess I'll either have to get over it of have a phone I use in international travels (I might do that with my current phone, once I buy a new one), though I am not sure it is even worth it for trips less than 10 days.

It is monday today, a few minutes past 11 am (where the hell are they?), and now I realize that in less than a week I'll be home again. But back to yesterday. We met Edu, saw some stuff, and looked for the Cafe to eat food, but then it was past 4 pm and I had not had anything besides the crackers at 9 am. The food took forever and it was good (I had tomato soup, chips, and tea, perfect to warm and sooth my cold soul), and again we talked about all kinds of thing (him also being in academia). We finished and walked around the waterfront again, now transformed with more people and the evening lights (it was dark by then). Actually, we first walked across the bridge, which now has blue neon/LED lights, and went to St. Paul's Cathedral. It was my first time inside, and there was a mass just starting. It was kind of beautiful, even though we could not tell if it was a priest or a nun giving the service (as they were so far away and the voice terrible androginous, so distracting). We did not stay or even sat down for the mass, but stuck around for maybe 20 minutes. As it progressed and I investigated the nooks we were allowed to see, the place filled with the smell of incense which was kind powerful. The whole thing was sort of impressive, as the mass started with this mad pipe organ music that seemed completely off tune, but that shook my insides and made all the sculptures and reliefs so dramatic. As I did not approach the altar, it seemed to me that their alcoves and ceilings were highly decorated, while the middle and back of the cathedral was bare. I am not sure if this was to signify a procession or the holiness of the altar and the purity of the nave, or if it was just unfinished. But seeing the decorated walls from a distance, this HUGE and everchanging cloud of incense, hearing the off-sounding pipe organ and the ambiguous master of ceremony transported me to the time, hundreds of years ago, when people came to mass for all kinds of reasons, and this was their paintings and their newspapers, and their television and literature, their photography and ther cinema, and how much what happened within those walls mattered to them.

Eventually we made our way out of the place, and walked around the City area, which seemed like a mix between Wall Street and Georgetown, thought it was not as packed with people. I assumed they call it the City because that is actually the City of London (as opposed to the City of Westminster, which is west of that), but who knows? (funny to think that at one point London was a city without a mayor). We crossed back the bridge and made our way to the boardwalk, had some mulled wine, did a bit of shopping, and made our way to the London Eye, which I had never seen that close, it is enormous. They were giving the last rides of the day, and because it was so dark we decided not to go, so we stayed there for a bit (It was cool to see the Big Ben from there, for sure the locations were planned that way, but I had never put one structure in relation to the other). We made out way around the BFI, around the IMAX theater and went to a grocery store that was tiny but had everything, and bought wine, cheeses and cold cuts for our evening meal, and hopped on a double-decker. We got off the same place we go on (I have no idea how I am gonna see these markers at night, I might have to stick with the underground), and walked back to the residence.

We once again talked for hours, about all kinds of things. I was introduced to this Brazilian rapper called Criolo, which seems to be an interesting figure in terms of what he actually represents in Brazilian mainstream pop culture (he's not at the center and not counter-center either), which may end up pinpointing more to how power and distribution of culture has shifted than how interesting as an artist he is/was.

After many hours of conversation it was time to go to bed. Today both Rosana and Edu go to Birmingham, she will attend a symposium and he will be back to his research outpost, and be back on Tuesday night. I have a couple days alone, which should prove to be interesting, to say the leas




- posted via iPad

WTF?

I spent about an hour writing a post off line, then came downstairs to upload the file, and all my text is gone. Had a good day yesterday, but now I am pissed off, hoping this will not ruin my day. The writing was good too, god dammit, this app sucks. Never ever have I lost anything by just closing the app for a few minutes. Not sure I want to re-write everything again. I am still pissed. Below are some pictures I took yesterday.




Margaret Harrison at Tate Modern




Tracy Emin at Tate Modern




Annette Messager at Tate Modern




view from 6th floor restaurant at Tate Modern




walking towards St. Paul's Cathedral on Millennium Bridge




walking back towards Tate Modern on Milennium Bridge




Big Ben as seen from the South Bank




the London Eye




still pissed off about the missing blogue, and still pissed off that the person who is supposed to look at my place has not shown up yet. they are an hour late, so much for British punctuality.

- posted via iPad

Location:Halsmere Road,Lambeth,United Kingdom

Sunday Bloody Sunday, not really

So I actually went to bed close to 1 am last night having finally met my cousin Rosana and her friend Edu. Right after I finished my last blog, I went back to the room, took a quick nap, and took a shower and came downstairs to the commons room, which has a fireplace, a flat screen TV, the noisy vending machine, some leather couches, a painting that looks like a fake early-modern still life, and a pool table. The Spanish woman was gone but there was a man on a laptop Skyping with someone. When I walked in he asked me if I did not mind him talking, and I said no and asked him if he minded I was in the room, which he said no. He then proceeded to speak Portuguese and probably had no idea I could understand him, and I felt bad for the unexpected intrusion. I got a text message from her (aka torpedo, that is, Portuguese term for text message, not how she goes by), saying she had just gotten back from her meeting; I told her where I was and that there was a Brazilian in the room, she let me know she was coming down my way and that he was probably her friend.

After the initial hugs and pleasantries, the two of us went up to her room, also on the second floor, but she was in the old building (I am in the new), while Edu stayed downstairs and Skyped with his son.

It was really nice seeing her and talking with her without family around, and it's been a while. We talked about our jobs, our parents, family, work, love, etc. Edu eventually came up and the three of us chatted for ever, going from everyday stuff to academic stuff, which is always nice. They made some pizzas in their convection oven (her unit way nicer than mine, wooden floors and a bathroom that actually has a defined shower box, a lot of old wood details, etc). We also had some lovely wine. She has also been here for a couple months, so her studio feels way more homey than mine. Rosana told me that the beautiful woman who helped me with towels is called Albertina, and that she is from Angola, so I will surprise her by talking to her in Portuguese (small world indeed).

One thing we talked about is how cosmopolitan or globalized London has truly become. I remember going to the movies a few years back to watch Basic Instinct II, which is set in London instead of New York, with my friends Valerie and Henri, and he posited that in that movie London is recast as a sexy city, r sex symbol (this is before the term branding was colloquial), specially since the majority of the action took place in the building popularly known as the Erotic Gherkin (or pickle for the Americans). I noticed that this transformation of London from traditional lady to a sexy cougar was present in other movies, such as all the new James Bond movies with the blondie hunk (what's his face). And this is truly indeed, where everywhere the new is replacing the old, where glassy and glossy surfaces of unrequited desire are now prevalent everywhere, where you can always see your self reflected but cannot see who sees you (this voyeuristic aspect is also reinforced by the ubiquity of CCTV cameras, which do police surveillance here - I learned the term from watching Law&Order UK - as a side note, I think the bus drove by the MI-5 building, by Vauxhall, what was bombed in Skyfall - now talk about a [homo]erotic movie0.

I finally left last night when I knew I'd either not sleep at all if I stayed awaken much longer, so we made plans to meet today, and I bid my adieu. I slept for about 7 hours, and though I am still tired, it felt good to get some zees for so many uninterrupted hours.




- posted via iPad

Location:Halsmere Road,Lambeth,United Kingdom

London calling

Perhaps it is because I have been drawing and transcribing a dictionary for a few months now, or maybe it is because I began an article on #selfies , but lately I have been getting the writing itch. I decided to put off writing because it was too time-consuming, and since I was never really great about it (it always took me a lot of time and effort to approximate being "good"), I thought I should concentrate on my art-making.

I find myself in an empty room in London, where this vending machine makes an extremely loud noise, waiting to see if my cousin will appear some time today. Not sure if she has gotten my texts/messages.

These last few weeks have been pretty insane, but in a good kind of way. I have been prepping for this exhibition in Miami, which will open during Art Basel, and the whole project seems to be a leap of faith (as the gallery seems to be at best very relaxed)... What's been good for me is forcing myself to take a new leap with my work, and as of now I have stuff to do for the entire year ahead of us. I am very happy with the Miami piece, and hope they install it properly.

Yesterday I woke up and worked on finishing the materials for shipping, DVDs and flashdrives for the videos, the drawings wrapped and boxed the night before. I had so many export issues that by the time I had all the stuff done and ready to go it was past 11 am. I drove to Pak Mail (in the same location as the old Lemberg Gallery), and waited an eternity for my turn; the worker sweet but I won't be surprised if the package never arrives, she seemed so clueless (and I went there because I have dealt with them before in a favorable manner). $200 plus dollars later, the work should be getting there before thanksgiving. After that I drove to the bank to withdraw cash and let them know I'd be abroad. In the past I have had so much bad luck with cards when traveling abroad that now I am extra vigilante when I do go somewhere. I took the cash and went to this place in Birmingham that exchanges money and got some British pounds, and unfortunately the lady only had 20s and 10s and 5s, but that could be okay. Drove back home and called all my credit cards to let them know I was traveling, folded two loads of laundry and took a break with Milah. I really hope she'll be alright in my absence.

My friend Maicon will be house-sitting and cat-sitting while I am away, in fact he'll be there for all my trips between now and the end of the year (having sold his place in Detroit and moving to CA after xmas, thus becoming my first roommate in 15 years, even if we'll only sleep under the same roof at the same time for only 8 or 9 days). I was able to lay on the couch for about 20 minutes with my darling until Mike showed up to take me to the airport. As always, I like to get there ultra early, and my check in went pretty quickly, even with the passport reoccurring issue (my passport last names do not match my credit card last name, so that when I buy a ticket with Delta with the Delta credit card, it thinks I am someone else, kiosk check-in a mute point). The woman was very friendly and I felt bad for her because this guy (who was totally getting the runaround actually), was in the process of raging, raising his voice, saying things about their appearance, etc. I was glad my ticket was issued and I walked to the security gate.

Every time I go through the obligatory scanner, I am confronted with the thought that a) in the beginning one could ask for thepat-down instead, b) I may get cancer from this, c) I am a grower, not a shower, and d) I feel like Janet Jackson in that album when I raise my arms for the scanner (only waiting for two unknown hands to cup my breastesses). I ended up eating a hibachi chicken with sticky jasmine rice which was pretty good... for some reason I can never get the option at the Delta site to get "gluten-free" meals, so it ends up I only eat the salad and the chicken breast and the soggy veggies, and for breakfast only the banana. The flight was full, I was sitting right behind the emergency exit and I KNEW the people sitting there did not know a single word in English, they just said "ok" to everything the flight attendant told them. For once I actually had an attractive guy sitting next to me, who was also friendly, and I thought we'd chat the night away and fall in love by landing, but low and behold I actually fell asleep immediately; in fact, I was sound asleep when they passed the immigration cards and was nudged by the flight attendant when the food arrived (I took two bites and tried to watch the Superman movie). Before I finish the flight, let me go through the movie.

First, they had to reboot the system twice, and after they gave up my movie (and everyone else around me), was completely glitchy, which made me think of my woes with U-Verse earlier in Spring. The movie itself made me speechless. I could not believe that in the first 15 minutes I watch a rehash of Avatar, The Matrix, and Transformers, with dashes of Batman broodiness and Wolverine butchness throughout the whole picture. The last part of the movie pretty much made no sense to me what-so-ever. And as luck would have it, while I stayed awake for the almost three hours my lovely neighbor with the gray hair, the British accent and the striped socks slept like a baby. By the time the movie ended I was ready to sleep again and work up only 45 minutes before landing, when they served the horrid breakfast (both banana and orange juice were actually frozen still, and like all refreshments throughout the flight, the attendants kept skipping us for drinks). The plane landed, I had to pee, and the line did not move. I moved to a different aisle because mine was stuck, and by the time I crossed the threshold, my flight companion was there and we had a brief moment lol. But because he was British and I had to pee, we parted our ways and never saw each other again (he went to the UK/EU side of airport, I went with the masses).

The immigration woman was nice and joly, and terrified I was coming to London to celebrate my 40th birthday all alone (I told her I have friends here), and the customs was pretty much two disgruntled british workers gossiping the whole time and not looking at anyone. as the flight arrived early, I was early to get in the tube, and the train took extra long to get where I needed (Piccadilly to Green Park, then switch to Victoria), because there was a problem with the westbound track that was affecting the eastbound one. British subway trains felt very small to me. This family came into the train and basically surrounded me, British father, mother and son (upper middle class for sure, and British upper middle class at that, very different from US upper middle class), and the son's girlfriend, who looked like a lot of Jewish Canadian girls I know (she was Canadian for sure). I was once again struck by how chatty Brits can be at times, as the mother did not stop speaking at all. I gathered they were all going to a wedding some time next weekend (they rode the train to meet the son and the girlfriend for the first time, who was both shy and giddy, as she kept laughing when the announcer said we were "Cockfosters" bound). People always talk about Americans' constant gabber, but I felt for once very reserved, and the chick could totally sense I wanted the mom to shut her (meat) pie hole, with a side of spotted dick.

They ended up leaving two stations before the ones they planned on getting off because of the delays (I know this because they never stopped talking, even though we never actually acknowledged each other's presence - I might even crash the wedding, since now I know where it is at). As soon as they got off the train, the tube picked up speed and before I knew I was in switching trains Victoria Station bound. People who know me would be impressed by the diminutive size of my luggage, which still was a pain in the ass to get through the underground tunnels. Eventually I made my way out to Victoria, and out on the streets. This was a funny experience to me, as 15 years ago I found myself in the same spot when I was running away from my Florida stalker and trying to find myself in Europe. Though I have been back to London twice since my brief London residency in the late 90s, the town sure had changed, and so have I. As my mother used to say, 15 years and 15 kilos ag. London has new construction everywhere, specially around that area. I was completely lost, no visual markers anywhere (in my memory it was more like an actual square, with the Student Travel Bureau right smack in the middle). My first place of residence in London was in Pimlico, nearby, which I walked to and almost got hit by a cab in my first hour in London (I looked the wrong way when crossing the street). Today I was on my way to Oval, a neighborhood south of Victoria (I think, maybe SE, across the river), and I could not find my bearings at all. There were construction and busses and tourists everywhere, and I eventually found an official I felt comfortable asking where my bus was at. He pointed me to go around a circular glass building, and it was then I was once again reminded how civilized the UK is, as he was so polite (in fact, the underground ticket guy was also delightful, how different from the US). Perhaps it is because they are not so friendly in the US, and I am always made to feel like a criminal every time I talk to someone in a uniform. Perhaps it is the sheer multiculturalism of London (where in the last 5 hours I have heard at least 5 languages outside the airport, Portuguese and Spanish once each), that people realize we are all in this "earth" boat together, so we might as well be nice to each other and treat each other well. I had two bus options, and decided to take the 185 instead of the 36 (because I had printed instructions for that, instead of the hand written one for the latter). The bus ride was pretty smooth and I easily found a seat and got off in the right spot. My walking direction were spot on (even though I ended up walking a bit more than I expected. The cold brisk air felt good after hours in the airplane.

My check in time was 2 pm, but I arrived before 1 pm, and I feared they'd make me wait in the lobby. I am staying in a "residence hall" of sorts, a place for students and scholars. This feels a bit like a hostel, except much nicer (I have this studio apartment, that is adorable and has everything in it, making me think I could downsize my life even more). In fact I have been chitchatting with this woman from Spain, who is sharing the desk at the commons, as I type and drink my cold Jasmine tea (who knew it also brew with cold water?).

After getting a tour of the facilities I finally made it to my room, and noticed there were no towels, so I had to come back downstairs. Again everyone one is so friendly I want to kiss them all (friendlier than Canadians). I took a mini nap in my room and then came down to set up the wifi for phone and iPad. I do not have wifi in the room, which may be a good thing, as it will force me to stay in the social places in this building and meet people. Following Jan's suggestion, of not sleeping until 8 pm, I went for a walk in the neighborhood and found a minimarket and bought some tea, water and juice for the morning. I also found this chip&chinese place that sold curry, so I got me some chicken curry (which made me think of a night in Belfast in a cab with drunk girls and a drunk Irishman, a scary evening). The place reminded me a bit of the New Kahala from Carbondale, as it was completely impersonal and cheap. The Chicken Curry with Boiled Rice (they do not call it steamed here), was 4.20 lbs (I do not know how to type the symbol with the iPad keyboard), which may put me in a good budget for this trip, unless I get gluten-sick tonight/tomorrow.

I am actually trying to kill time to see if my cousin Rosana contacts me, as she is staying in the same place... but I might have to go to bed soon. I am looking forward to seeing her but hope she does not feel like I am pain in her neck. Tomorrow she goes to a conference in Birmingham, so I might go to the Tate Modern on my own, to see the Annette Messager and the new London skyline from that perspective. I hope I get to see everyone I know in town.

If you follow my instagram you will see some pics I have already taken here, but to follow travelogue tradition, I will post a selfie at the end of this one. And in a few, as it is almost 7 pm, I will go to my room.




- posted via iPad

Location:Halsmere Road,Lambeth,United Kingdom