• Enframing

    In “The Question Concerning Technology,” Heidegger defines enframing as “the gathering together that belongs to that setting-upon which sets upon man and puts him in position to reveal the real, in the mode of ordering, as standing-reserve.” In other words, enframing is a process by which things are collected and ordered in order to reveal something about the world. Heidegger mainly used this term when talking about science and technology. While the term may not be directly applicable to our arts experiences in New York, the reason I wanted to bring this term up and use it is because I like that enframing is an ordering process with an aim to reveal something. In this case, the art that I experienced on Friday at the Whitney Biennial show collects different elements of New York life and orders them in a way that something can be understood through that enframing solely.

    For example, at the Whitney Biennial show, there were many pieces that revealed through their structure, but the two that stood out to me were Ken Okiishi’s gesture/data and Bjarne Melgaard’s installation. Okiishi’s gesture/data consisted of five vertically hung flatscreen televisions covered in heavy-handed brushstrokes while displaying commercials and war news coverage. While I loved that the paint on the screens made me notice the television as an art-object rather than as a household item, the power of the piece came from the framing. Television is seen as nothing but an apparatus to transmit audiovisual information to us, but once brushstrokes appear on the surface and wall placement makes it resemble a painting, the television becomes a frame and the programming becomes high art. Pop and abstract expressionism are assembled together to make high art, and commercials become their own luxury, and war coverage becomes aesthetic statement as well as information.

    The enframing of Melgaard’s installation happened differently. Once you enter the room, you know you are framed inside an artificial world of sex, violence, media, and ethical dissociation. As I walked amongst the piles of sexed-up dolls and phallic inflatables that possessed a similar shape and presence to that of tank rifles, as I gazed at the projections on the walls of war footage and 9/11 reruns, as I stared hypnotized at the orangutans fornicating while a gay romance was read aloud through voiceover, I realized: I was inside a tumblr. While this epiphany seems comical, it felt surreal in a more horrific way. Here I am in the middle of a (cyber)space where traumas and travesties were placed aesthetically beside each other, like reblogged matter, for the cheekiness and awe of their terrifying juxtaposition. All stored in this room; all enframed in a space where the viewer is given no responsibility or accountability, where scrolling and strolling leaves one free to roam in and out. The revelation was my own need to neglect.

    While questions about how structure gives meaning to art are always important, what the exhibit revealed to me in terms of enframing is that it is the borders between artwork and spectator that create an additional layer of enframing—that of participation. Though no artwork asked anything of me, the space, the work, the art-objects all formed an ambiance around me and them that forced one of us to reveal something to the other. In Okiishi’s case, the work revealed both its thingness and its value over its status as apparatus. In Melgaard’s case, I learned how, just like scrolling through tumblr, I am complicit in walking amongst tragedy and allowing myself to neglect horror. It is in these moments of insight that I wonder how much of Heidegger’s mysticism has rubbed off on me (and how, as a congregant of Art, how much of my own ignorance keeps me from further opening the worlds that each work possesses).

  • SaturdayAgain

    We boarded the plane

    and reclined ‘til sleep, but we

    left our eyes back there.

  • Friday

    The Slipper Room: I

    can’t believe we went; I can’t

    remember leaving.

  • Thursday

    The violins stopped;

    The drums pattered to their death;

    The howl still rung high.




    To learn that your face

    is only half the story.

    To see her behind.




    I’d like for Egypt

    to whisk Lady Liberty

    away and display.

  • 
It was incredible to meet the people who made art happen, behind the scene. As Sarah and I was talking, we were struck about how happy the people at BRIC were at their jobs. It wasn’t so much a job as a living. This makes me aspire to look for the same sense of fulfillment they get in my future career. Also, what I found fascinating was how community needs were engaged in both MMDG and BRIC. The way they built a place for the community, and a community around the place was for me a great way of seeing how art can extend beyond itself.

    It was incredible to meet the people who made art happen, behind the scene. As Sarah and I was talking, we were struck about how happy the people at BRIC were at their jobs. It wasn’t so much a job as a living. This makes me aspire to look for the same sense of fulfillment they get in my future career. 

    Also, what I found fascinating was how community needs were engaged in both MMDG and BRIC. The way they built a place for the community, and a community around the place was for me a great way of seeing how art can extend beyond itself.

    (Source: cjmg2006)

  •  

the christie’s visit presented a very different view of art. while its exclusivity and power was disturbing, I enjoyed the visit because whether we liked it or not, this was a backbone of the New York art world, and it gave a peek into what goes on inside. 
I felt particularly intrigued about how technology is changing the art world’s landscape. does viewing a piece of art online destroy the idea of an authentic experience? what exactly does technology mean for art for both the viewer and the artist? how does the art world respond? I think this is a very interesting space to watch over the coming years. 
Here also is a link to the Andy’s World online auction which Sara mentioned today: https://onlineonly.christies.com/s/andy-warhol-at-christies-andys-world/lots/50 

     

    the christie’s visit presented a very different view of art. while its exclusivity and power was disturbing, I enjoyed the visit because whether we liked it or not, this was a backbone of the New York art world, and it gave a peek into what goes on inside. 

    I felt particularly intrigued about how technology is changing the art world’s landscape. does viewing a piece of art online destroy the idea of an authentic experience? what exactly does technology mean for art for both the viewer and the artist? how does the art world respond? I think this is a very interesting space to watch over the coming years. 

    Here also is a link to the Andy’s World online auction which Sara mentioned today: https://onlineonly.christies.com/s/andy-warhol-at-christies-andys-world/lots/50 

  • 
Looking at Charles Marville’s photographs, and especially Rue du Constantine, there is almost no beginning and no end. I feel almost like a ghost floating into the picture, where horse carriages ride on, the workmen labor on: life goes on. The photograph removes a moment from space, time and context, and in that immobilizes and suspends what is forever in flux. We peer almost through a crystal ball into this moment, yet not being able to touch it, a window into another world that we cannot enter.
It is a haunting world, though, that I see. I wonder if being in 1830s Paris indeed felt that way. I can’t help but think about the man standing at the door in the bottom right of the picture, and wonder if he had a heaviness in his heart about the change that he was about to witness. If indeed a photograph was a window into another time, then that air of bleak inevitability is what actually was. Its success would be because it not only records or illustrates, but that it also illuminates these invisible sentiments that lurked underneath.
Yet I think we cannot disregard the person behind the camera itself. Freud hadn’t existed yet, but it would be hard to think that the photographer was not at least unconsciously present in the photo. Photography is inherently subjective because the photographer wields the power of the frame. He is presented with everything that lies before him, but he cannot capture it all within the frame. He therefore decides what is important and what is not, and for that reason the photo is always a reflection of his own thoughts, emotions and impulses.
If space is a protagonist/antagonist, space is a character that has a life of its own. (At least that was how I understood it.) The atmospheric space that is the subject of the photograph is one, but so is the planar space of the photograph itself. In the first we see buildings, people, and palaces that make up Paris’ Rue du Constantine. In the second we see lines converging, a point of view and decisions through which this becomes not just Paris, but Marville’s Paris.


    Looking at Charles Marville’s photographs, and especially Rue du Constantine, there is almost no beginning and no end. I feel almost like a ghost floating into the picture, where horse carriages ride on, the workmen labor on: life goes on. The photograph removes a moment from space, time and context, and in that immobilizes and suspends what is forever in flux. We peer almost through a crystal ball into this moment, yet not being able to touch it, a window into another world that we cannot enter.

    It is a haunting world, though, that I see. I wonder if being in 1830s Paris indeed felt that way. I can’t help but think about the man standing at the door in the bottom right of the picture, and wonder if he had a heaviness in his heart about the change that he was about to witness. If indeed a photograph was a window into another time, then that air of bleak inevitability is what actually was. Its success would be because it not only records or illustrates, but that it also illuminates these invisible sentiments that lurked underneath.

    Yet I think we cannot disregard the person behind the camera itself. Freud hadn’t existed yet, but it would be hard to think that the photographer was not at least unconsciously present in the photo. Photography is inherently subjective because the photographer wields the power of the frame. He is presented with everything that lies before him, but he cannot capture it all within the frame. He therefore decides what is important and what is not, and for that reason the photo is always a reflection of his own thoughts, emotions and impulses.

    If space is a protagonist/antagonist, space is a character that has a life of its own. (At least that was how I understood it.) The atmospheric space that is the subject of the photograph is one, but so is the planar space of the photograph itself. In the first we see buildings, people, and palaces that make up Paris’ Rue du Constantine. In the second we see lines converging, a point of view and decisions through which this becomes not just Paris, but Marville’s Paris.

    (Source: cjmg2006)

  •  

    the new // the old @ the met

  •  

the anonymous street artist, his sensibility not unlike those exalted

     

    the anonymous street artist, his sensibility not unlike those exalted

  • The Satorialist: Stanford Edition

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