Across the street from what appears to be a community home for old foggies or some sort of hotel for traveling shoe salesmen, and sandwiched between multiple abandoned buildings and an auto body & paint store and a Jiffy Lube, located inside a highly discreet brick building typical of your Manchester Avenue and South Kingshighway Boulevard intersection, you’ll currently find the best damn show in town (clarify: the brick is discreet, the building itself is discreet, the monstruous vinyl high-contrast diamond-encrusted basketball banner is NOT discreet!). You have 10 days left to see it.
White Flag Projects is a gallery that was definitely not here the last time I visited St. Louis (sure enough they began operations in Sept 06, I was last passing through in August of that same year – although I remember reading about them in Megan and Murray’s blog from their time in the STL). The press release claims this is their most ambitious exhibition to date. If it wasn’t I’d be scared! Anything more than Brock Enright’s impressive array of scatological object installations and my eyes might be bleeding.
The space itself is gorgeous, a huge cavity of a space with just the right amount of Industrial Light & Magic: huge I-beams overhead, gorgeous natural light flooding in, an iron spiral staircase, an impressive back area office space. The works. Very impressive to see a space of this magnitude and professionalism set up camp in St. Louis, especially in an area of the city otherwise overlooked and overshadowed by car traffic that is usually only ‘passing through’.
First thought, How the hell did all of this stuff get in here? Visions of Enright (the name of my middle school in north St. Louis) driving cross-country with a Ryder truck full of football helmets, fake blood, tin-foil, mechanical gadgetry and his own sadistic version of Tin man come to mind.
Second thought, What the hell is going on with all of this stuff!? Closer inspection of a hand-drawn map of the installation gives nearly every object or array of objects in the space its own title. Over 70 works with titles ranging from “Tin man holding himself up”, “Punchy face”,”Log used to throw through wall to reveal a girl in a rabbit suit masturbating” or “Collection of things that come after you” suggest Enright’s fascination with the interstitial space of sex & violence, of nightmares and the images and signs used to represent them. Others are suggestive of Enright’s working methods, in that he gathers work as he moves along and around, culling work over time: “St. Louis bread” was clearly conceived, bought, and installed-abandoned during his time in the city; “Debris from 8 events” is clearly borne from past performances, detritus from old work given a new life.
Third thought, What do you find yourself attracted to? A punching bag? A pants-less plastic doll bent over staring back at you? Black & white photocopies of brains mounted on cardboard? A shoddy shelving unit nearly collapsed and wrapped in tin-foil, possibly the only thing keeping it standing? Or those almost-unifying objects, the seeds of some sort with dozens of razor blades jammed into each one, and mounted all around the place, like a raging virus enlarged for us to see or a latent grenade’s potential vectors of explosion. In writing about the show, you’ve learned a little bit about what I’m attracted to!
You have 10 days left to draw from and leave your own imprint in the show. Literally. The entire room is coated in dust from the construction of this arena of phantasmagoria, and footprints are everywhere, including that of a lady (I presume) wearing what appear to be size 13 stilettos.
I realize I’ve been loosing valuable blogging time as of late. In the one hand I have all of this valuable content, in the form of my experiences, images, stories and lessons learned while I’m in St. Louis for the holidays and attempting to re-order the World As It Is according to my parents; in the other hand, oh shit the World As It Is consists of a vaccuum, or as my friend John might say a vortex, don’t get sucked in! I’ve found myself getting distracted by the activity of non-activity, by the nothingness of existence here, by the slow pace and hum-drum attitude of interaction here, which I both admire and love, and struggle to cope with and fight against.
As I mulled over this dilemma half-asleep last night, I simply concluded that it would be best for me to start a post, and then to add to it with sub-entries, rather than attempting to compile one single megapost which can’t actually be done as my experiences here are on-going and never cease. Day in and day out there’s something new. And I’m already over a week behind schedule.
So in unordered list and no particular arrangement:
My parents and stuff:
my parents own, or possess rather, nearly if not more than 30 pairs of scissors. Nearly if not more… as in, while I’m sorting through their house and attempting to downsize their lives, I’ve really only penetrated and can account for the contents of two rooms. Add to that the other rooms (namely the computer room and my mom’s office areas) and in passing I’ve counted well over 20 pairs, and nearing 30. And I haven’t even spent time in the toolshop area. Could they own 50 scissors? Is this possible?
In the light of the scissors complex, I went back and counted the number of staplers they own. Currently accounted for: 8.
e.g.:
many, many more to come!
STL corner architecture:
I’ve always had a fondness for corner buildings in St. Louis city. They’re always slightly more visually complex than the buildings surrounding them (which are usually domiciles, with the corner buildings operating commercial ventures); accented with architectural features and decorative elements; usually “wrap” the corner physically, and provide multiple entrances or window displays; and are usually more substantial – at times gargantuan – in comparison to the surrounding area. (I’ll add more examples as I take them) If one was to purchase or develop a property in the city for an arts center or housing co-op, this would be the way to go:
STL alley architecture:
Likewise I’ve always had a fondness for the alleys of St. Louis, and they’re an urban development feature that I’ve missed in larger cities I’ve lived in like London or NYC or which other cities I just don’t think employ the nature and uses of the alley as well as St. Louis city. In my earlier days I played basketball and stickball in them; used them to cut through neighborhoods while avoiding the car-traffic streets; and often used them as entrances to peoples’ homes through their back doors because the front door is so formal and proper, whereas the back door usually leads immediately into the kitchen which is where people congregate to eat and drink.
More recently I’ve found myself attracted to their narrow and sharp vantage points, especially at the moment when one rides past an alley quickly and is given a glimpse down the canyon of garages and sheds, trash cans, and debris. Those moments are quick as the alleys here are only 11 ft. wide or so. Wheres some neighboring streets can appear the same, the alleyways are always different and unique:
Delphi hats:
Word is this kid can’t get enough hats. Things on head in general:
Stumbling around the intertubes looking for STL entertainment, I came upon Bill Streeter’s website and flickr account, which included one of the more honest images shot from within the crowd for President Obama’s (not -elect, he’s my bloody President already damnit!) rally in St. Louis in mid-October. Most press images published from that record-turnout speech were wide shots from above or a press-box area (see scissor lifts) that overwhelmed the eye and whose composition was strategically designed to include the old courthouse in the background (again, for mass media). This shot however shows the back heads of the crowd as they face forward, cheering. That is Illinois in the background; also to the right of the white tent was a jumbotron television. I think Obama can be seen between the bleachers stand and the scissor lifts, in white.
I don’t know Bill but he seems like an all-right guy, his name being penned on some of the websites I’ve been perusing as I re-explore the city, including The Royale, one of the finer pubs in town that I’ve visited before and was trying to remember the name of, and thankfully came across their site. Bill codes with WordPress (the same software I employ), which is good to know open-source is running a fair portion of STL’s cultural production.
I was also introduced to this page at the Kemper Museum’s site which discreetely hides a map to STL non-profit visual art sites. Still, there must be more?
architecture blended:
Did they paint the building to blend in with the tree? Or did the tree chameleonize to blend in with the building?
zombie entertainment:
It’s a shame I just missed this (by a month). Subscribe to their feed for updates ahead of time.
More STL architecture:
I guess architecture, especially domiciles and housing structures, features prominently in this post because St. Louis has so much that is abandoned or not living up to its potential. It’s amazing, coming from New York City where realtors can and do literally sit on pieces of real estate, and end up not leasing them out figuring they can loose money now by not leasing a property in exchange for banking on that same property in a couple months or years even, when a specific neighborhood “blows up” and prices skyrocket. Yet here pieces of property sit abandoned for decades and there’s no assistance from the city to move people into them in exchange for fixing them up or developing a program (non-profit or otherwise) within the structure.
Here are some prime examples of abandoned or derelict or simply vapid structures:
a cutie two-part house thing. I don’t even know how to describe this place. It’s odd. It’s lovely. It has a No Trespassing No Loitering sign. It’s about 50ft. from the Antique Row area (Cherokee Street).
I didn’t walk over the hill but this building appeared partiallly – if not entirely – abandoned. Hard to tell. Still, it’s surrounded by land that at one point surely was loaded with other buildings and structures. Where did they all go? Who took the bricks?
Don’t remember the location. Great double garage door access, with ghost sign on side. All windows boarded up. Red plywood.
This one both confuses and upsets me. Such a beatiful structure, and the colorful rooftop facade is incomplete. Did the owner attempt to fix it up and then simply flee? the spraypaint on the road hoarding says “2900″ for the address.
The beginning of a multi-month journey to my hometown of St. Louis, Missouri, with expected travels out of the city, to visit nearby (in the American sense of driving cross-country, nearby is within six hours!) friends and family; to venture to an abandoned family home; to assist my parents with their own health and hopefully enlighten them to alternative modes of living from those they’ve been repetitiously executing for decades.
My father recently had a “massive heart attack”, his first major malady, which I would say arrived quite early, before late-life has really begun, largely due to stress which unexpectedly struck his own family in the past year. His stubbornness (which I find cute) and unwillingness to discuss his personal ailments (sometimes not so cute), and my inability to do anything about his condition over the phone, has prompted me to uproot my own life, to disrupt my own patterns and repetitions, to assist my parents and in doing so better consider my own future age.
…
My final days in New York City were both relaxed and feature-packed, and I’d like to take this moment to extremely thank Alison, Cassie, Richard, Mark, all the Stipanovic family, my sister and the various people I mingled with and met during my final days and hours which reminded me before I left of the reasons why I’m certain I’ll be returning and calling one of the outer boroughs “home” once more.
…
After casting my ballot – and certain of the outcome – I proceeded to my friend Alison’s very homey home, the type of place after my eviction I found myself somewhat yearning for, and not at all typical of New York living. The type of home where days after Halloween, pumpkins are easily left on the front porch to collapse and continue looking beautiful! The type of home that will be an absolute delight in the dead of winter after a night fall of snow to wake up inside! The type of home where roommates actually yearn to do their dishes and keep the place looking spectacular! Homes, like these:
Walking the entire perimeter of Greenwood Cemetery with Alison’s roomy Mark included an excursion into the cemetery proper:
This place is amazing, and grand! Grand both in acreage and the monumentality of some of these tombs and gravestones. Mark and I toured a mere nugget of a corner on the map on this place, and were well-occupied for over an hour, our time spent scaling hills, finding hidden footpaths, creating our own genealogy of the dead, and inpsecting the overall superb craftsmanship of this place. Bonus: views of Red Hook – “there’s THE Ikea!” and Lower Manhattan are available.
Monk Parrots can also be found at the Cemetery’s north entrance and they’re an absolute delight to watch build their nests and listen to them communicate with one another, and in the overcast day their green feathers were darker than usual and had an almost metallic sheen to them. Really wonderful bird!
I couldn’t leave without paying a visit to Olja, Robi, and Bartol himself, who debuted on this blog a month ago now. The image above was the eve of his 1 month anniversary. Did you know babies can grow 5cm and gain 2lbs. in that short a span of time? Isn’t that nuts? Merely from feeding on breast milk. I mean, HOW? The human body’s engineering at such a young age is truly astounding.
A visit to Hunter College’s MFA Open Studios introduced me to the work – and the man – of Darren Jones. While the above picture is a work that wasn’t on display at the event, it is from a series of similar works that forced me to engage in a conversation with Darren, albeit quickly, about his work. In the work I saw which was still in progress, Darren culled discarded balloons from seaside beaches. The balloons were weathered, worn and decrepit. Their once-humorous or cheerful slogans had turned into cracked skin which was flaking off. Bunches were tethered upside-down and hung from meat hooks, their collective form suggestive of the type of pitiful shape a cow or lamb might take after it’s throat has been slit and its body drained of blood, removed of all life and energy, before it is processed into meat for edible consumption.
Other than Darren though I must say I was quite disappointed with the open studios. Or rather not “disappointed” as much as not ultimately satisfied. Granted I didn’t have significant time or interest to engage everybody in a 60-second interview, but there wasn’t much in the way of developed work from the more-senior graduates, instead they were largely repeating tried and true techniques. Most graduates seemed to be trying to force their work to exist in their studios. Few merely let the work exist as it is.
And what I’ve always found odd about these engagements is how I seem to be more enthralled and captivated by places outside of the gallery, or in this case outside the studio:
This hallway area has always been an interesting area to engage, as it is noticeably large, usually unoccupied or at least sparsely filled, and yet always manages to achieve being more interesting in composition and arrangement from the junk left there than the work available in the many-numbered and expensive studio spaces occupied by fine art graduates. There was some sort of sound installation emitting from the lockers on the left, so I can’t say for certain that this wasn’t entirely devised, but I understood the sound work to be more of a site imposition rather than an element of a larger site specific work.
…
After culturally digesting graduates’ art practices until the last minute, the following night, or morning of the next-next day, a 3am departure from NYC’s Penn Station took me to Washington DC’s Union Station, one of these monumental depots of yesteryear that managed to avoid being torn down and replaced with some “modern” atrocity.
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From DC I departed for the longest leg of my journey, a 24 hour and 25 minute train ride that cut through Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana before its final termination in Chicago, Illinois. I took the Cardinal not the Capitol trip from DC, which should you ever take westbound I recommend sitting on the right side of the train. I made the mistake of choosing the left side, and the train was full so I couldn’t relocate, and wound up having sun in my face for a good 5 or 6 hours as well as missing all the good views. Still, there were moments to be enjoyed:
panning while traveling at 70mph is so much fun!
My arrival in Chicago was short, with a mere couple of hours to kill. I deposited my luggage in those wonderful new storage lockers in Chicago’s Union Station, proceeded to Daley Plaza (I lived in Chicago for a year so I know the downtown area quite well) to see the large Christmas tree that is being constructed from many many single pine trees before meeting up with Leslie (a Chicago native) whom I befriended on Halloween back in Brooklyn:
the eventual tree can be seen in the background, that “tree” is already constructed from about 8 single trees.
the significant guy-wires and steel framing (clever design) used to fabricate this sensation.
the future christmas tree trees!
Leslie and I met up for a quick drink, with the weather the way it was (Chicago-cold) meant a shot of whisky and a beer. Drink! Hurry! My train is about to depart! I arrived back at Union Station with literally “one minute” to spare, as the conductor told me and shoved the train doors closed behind me right after I boarded – before I was seated the train was moving!
the final leg of my journey took me through the heartland of America, with the train for some time traveling parallel to Route 66:
Route 66 is the paved road in the foreground there. And you can see the signage on the barn in the midground. All in all I’d have to say the train is a wonderful way to travel, and Amtrak conduct a brilliant service and strive to accommodate everyone accordingly. My only argument is the lack of wifi on the trains for us e-commuters, while the train crew itself have a locked WEP-encrypted network to access (via satellite no doubt). Otherwise if you have the time, it’s a wonderful way to travel, and extremely easy on the pocketbook I might add – cheap, like $3 above $100!
And now I find myself sitting in the room I spent a large portion of my early adult life in, having not been here for any extended time in over 7 years. Life in London followed by life in NYC has meant I haven’t had much time to get away from the demands I surrounded myself with. Of course I have goals I’ve set to achieve while here, both personally and professionally, and am looking forward to the time ahead. There’s a lot of work to do, and I’m certain a lot of fun to be had as well. But first, publish!
we’ll be watching it on the big screen for Turkey Day. stop by in the early afternoon if you’re around and want to enjoy watching the neighbors get ‘killed’ – that’s my favorite part!
There are a lot of issues to talk about revolving around this years World Series championship by the St. Louis Cardinals over the Detroit Tigers. Some things statistical, lots of things magical. Where do we begin?
The Cardinals were more than just the underdog. They came into the post-season with the worst regular-season winning average of all time, at .516! But even as such, they never gave up hope. They, of all teams, know that statistics like this don’t mean diddlysquat! After all they lost in 1987 to the .525 (previous worst!) Minnesota Twins and in 1985 to the .562 (tied for previous fourth worst!) Kansas City Royals, both Midwest teams.
And here we were against the Tigers, undoubtedly one of the best and most-feared AL teams, especially throughout the first half of the regular season. Again, both Midwest teams. And while at the beginning of the playoffs everybody was talking about a Tigers vs Mets or even a repeat ‘subway series’ of Yankees vs Mets, I was pushing the notion of a Midwest World Series. How great would that be! And now, after the series, is something even the likes of Bob DuPuy, MLB’s President and chief operating officer mentioned:
To have them win the World Series for the 10th time with the great players they have and keep the championship in the Midwest — in the heartland — is a great thing for baseball.
And most things defied the odds, but worked! Jeff Weaver came from nowhere to go 1-1 this World Series (and probably would have been 2-0 were it not for cheatingKennyRogers and the “Dirtgate” scandal, more later); Molina hit above .300; Wainwright had to step up as closer to replace Isringhausen and showed what he was made of, shutting up both Carlos Beltran and Brandon Inge, on potentially game-winning at-bats; and Eckstein, you little squeaker, you deserve the MVP!
While the Tiger’s pitching staff will be remembered for committing an unprecedented five errors by four pitchers in five consecutive games, which undoubtedly led to runs for the Cardinals, it also must be remembered that the Cardinals pitching staff shut down the Tigers offense, who batted the second lowest in World Series history, at around .190! If you were to tell me the 95-win Tigers would bat below .200, including Placido Polanco going 0 for 17, I would let you know in Gnarls Barkley fashion, “Well, I think you’re crazy! I think you’re crazy!”
But also, crazy, “just like me“! Like otherfans, I grew out my playoff beard, or stubble in my case; I wore a St. Louis t-shirt underneath all my October layers that I didn’t take off or wash in nearly three weeks (I STANK!); and for every World Series game I wore – and never took off – a Cardinals hat that my friend Ashley Sell gave me a couple of months back when I visited my hometown and saw a couple of Cardinals games at the new Busch Stadium (did I mention they won the Championship in the first year of their new stadium? Cmon, that’s pretty effing magical!!).
But perhaps most magical is the ‘Sea of Red’ effect. This is a phenomenon I have been trying to explain to non-fans and fans from other cities for some time now. I went to a Mets game at Shea Stadium in September, after they had already clinched their division, which was probably why there weren’t a huge number of fans in the stands, but worst was the fans who were there were barely representing their team colors, blue and orange, two great complimentary colors! Whereas Cardinals fans are especially known to wear red no matter the weather or the situation. For our own players we give them something to revel in (from Flickr); for the opposing team we overwhelm them (from Flickr) with the Sea of Red:
I don’t want to hinge on our only loss to the Tigers, after all I never wanted a sweep, but I do want to keep a few things in perspective. Okay so Rogers joins an elite few with 20-plus scoreless innings pitched; but as has already been pointed out, he had this questionable ‘dirt’ on his palm as early as game 3 of the ALCS (from ESPN, pretty reliable source!) against the Oakland Athletics. So 7 of those 23 innings came after he washed his hands after the first inning of game 2 of the World Series, but who knows how many of those previous 14 innings were streakless from cheating? My prediction, or perhaps how I would like to see history avenge Rogers’s work ethic, is that Kenny Rogers will never again reach the postseason, and so his scoreless streak will end full stop at 23. Any pitcher who says this is a blatant liar:
I didn’t know it was there. They told me about [the substance], but it was no big deal.
How the hell do you not notice a “big clump of dirt” (Rogers’s words!) on your PITCHING HAND? That would be like a welder not realizing they are wearing 3D glasses instead of a standard welder’s mask! It’s just plain ridiculous! Your pitching hand is your main tool, and it’s filthy!
You are a cheater Kenny Rogers! And you committed your acts live on television in front of 18.2 million viewers:
my friends Ashley, Josh, Amelie and Amelie’s husband and fellow St. Louisan Mike arrived into town yesterday evening. A bit of a hassle with the arrivals because Mike arrived on a different bus, that was stuck in traffic, but the others had already abandoned their luggage with me at work. Ashley met back up with me and we shuttled it all home in a cab, which I needed anyways to cart home a Mitsubishi DiamondPro CRT monitor that I found on the streets of SoHo last night (works flawlessly!). The cab ride was much talked about, as the cabbie was attempting – and succeeding with – maneuvers that nearly gave Ashley and myself heart attacks. It was great! It was Ashley’s first ride in NYC and it definitely met all expectations!
Ashley helped me lay some ethernet cable before we spent the wee hours of the morning playing Resident Evil 4 on the PS2. woke up this morning to a communal breakfast, around 12 of us at the kitchen table, then we departed for the city. We all arrived at Location One where I’m invigilating the gallery today; they’ll parade around town before we (minus Amelie whose heading back to PA this evening) head back out to Flux Factory for the opening tonight. Tomorrow morning we plan on going to Martina Mrongovius‘ show at the Holocenter and then to Coney Island for the afternoon.
