Yet another gray room.

Am I missing something or do all the best contemporary art speakers go somewhere else besides Seattle when they come to the Northwest?

I bring this up today because today, San Francisco artist Kota Ezawa (who made the cartoon version of the OJ Simpson trial that showed at Seattle Art Museum a few years ago) is speaking in Spokane. It's part of Eastern Washington University's 2007-2008 Visiting Artist Lecture Series, Real, Surreal and Cartoons, focusing on artists whose work "is variously populist, anti-establishment, and plain fun."

When's the last time the University of Washington art department brought in an artist that drew a crowd? Not the Henry, mind you, but the art department?

Portland is the real heavy-hitter, though. French Philosopher Jacques Ranciere, Chicago artist Nick Cave (he's responsible for the Soundsuits in SAM's African galleries), artist Emily Prince (known for her project recording every death of American soldiers in Iraq, seen at this summer's Venice Biennale), and Turner Prize-winning artist Richard Deacon all have spoken in Portland in the last month.

Can the budgets for speakers get a little more love around here? The art's out there in the middle of crickets.

Back when I worked at The News Tribune in Tacoma, Street of Dreams would contact me every year in a bid to get me to write about the art in the houses.

Which reminds me—look at the bright side of yesterday's Street of Dreams burnings: Art like this was burned to the ground!

^{A detail of Francisco Guerrero's unfinished T.G. (2008), enamel on panel, 17 by 47 inches}

At Seattle University's Kinsey Gallery, in Campus Cuties.

^{Kader Attia's Ghost (2007), aluminum foil}

At Henry Art Gallery.

^{A detail from Nathan Mabry's Currently Untitled (2007), bronze, 84 by 36 by 24 inches.}

At Cherry and Martin in Los Angeles.

May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits, crotch, and spray-paint nozzles.

^{Molly Landreth's Meg and Renee, Denny Blaine Beach, WA (2006), digital pigment print}

At Photographic Center Northwest.

Read Nicolai Ouroussoff's entire piece on the design, because it is about the life of all cities. Ouroussoff lays out both sides of Koolhaas's project—and each side's potential powers and dangers—really well, especially his salutes to Warholian sameness and, at the same time, his outbursts of egotism.

^{Marcus Gannuscio's Neil (2008), oil on canvas, 38 by 32 inches}

At Davidson Contemporary.

^{Byron King's Untitled (2007), pen on paper, 6 by 8 inches.}

At Joe Bar.

^{Gretchen Bennett's When you wake up this morning, please read my diary. Look through my things, and figure me out. (2008), Prismacolor pencils on paper, 22 1/2 by 30 inches.}

At Howard House.

Wait—they're all doing it. Working for bad guys, that is.

Here's the story (thanks to the beloved C-Monster).

... Berlin-based Danish artist Jeppe Hein, for the work of art that could become a downtown landmark situated right on top of the Tashiro-Kaplan building.

4Culture held its interviews and made its choice between three finalists (Hein, Lead Pencil Studio, and John Grade) yesterday. The budget for the commission is $145,000.

The artists didn't give specific proposals to the panel; it made its decisions based on their past works. So what Hein will do with the commission—in fact, he was flying last night and didn't have a chance to formally accept it right away—is totally unknown.

But a few of his past works can be seen here, here, here, and here, and he also has several projects on YouTube.

Here's an interview with him from last fall:

Your "Gray Area" artbiz spat article reminds me of the rancorous Fitzgerald-Hopkins Trial right here in Metronatural Seattle in the mid-1960s, when artists James Fitzgerald accused a younger artist, Robert Hopkinds, of imitating his (Fitzgerald's) work.

One prosecution witness was the painter William Cumming, always ready for Drama, but this time I think in the wrong play. Sculptor and U.W. art professor emeritus Everett Dupen was one of the major Defense witnesses, and I remember sending a supporting letter from California where I was then on a fellowship residency.

Fitzgerald lost; and in Seattle magazine William Cumming was quoted, post-verdict, saying that Hopkins had better never be in any show for which he, Cumming, was a juror.

I detest the "Art Scene" ... the Poops and Pedants and Promoters and Pretenderes ... the incessant search for "new" "breakthrough" (bullshit) "insights" ... DUNGbeetles digging for GOLD. (It's ALL "imitation" ... vapid revisions with witless statements of "concept.")

Let us take notice of obscene (example the $90 million recently stolen European painting) prices for crumbling ancient daubs that "authorities" have designated timeless; and this local TWITFIGHT: it's about MONEY, and EGO ... not "art." (I was able to buy back one of my own "works" last year ... and I'd buy more if I knew where the hell they ARE.) Hey, Art Establishment: Get STUFFED.

Gordon Anderson

And other Gray Area postscripts:

You should be aware that Lead Pencil Studio not only create "derivative" art, they SWIPED THEIR FREAKING NAME!!! In the 70s there was an extremely prominent team of artists in Seattle—Les LaPere and Frank Samuelson (sometimes joined by Ken Corey)—that went by the name...yes, you guessed it—Lead Pencil, or the Pencil Brothers.

And these artists weren't exactly low profile. LaPere, Samuelson, and Corey showed regularly at the popular Manolides Gallery in Pioneer Square. A lovely LaPere illustration graced the cover of Tom Robbins' book "Still Life with Woodpecker." Samuelson famously won the top prize at the Seattle Art Museum's 1976 Northwest Annual using the assumed name "Dustin Washington." As part of the award, he was given a solo show at SAM's Modern Art Pavilion at the Seattle Center in 1977 (together with internationally recognized photographer Richard Avedon). Corey was posthumously honored with a solo exhibition at the Tacoma Art Museum in, like, 1995—with a substantial catalogue. He also exhibited at SAM's new downtown facility earlier in that decade. Seattle's original Lead Pencil were associated with the influential West Coast "Funk" movement of the 70s era—which included heralded artists such as William T. Wiley, Roy DeForest, Robert Arneson, etc. In other words, they made their reputations here, and they were highly visible. Samuelson still creates and exhibits his work. I very much admired their delicate renderings and it's shameful that their memorable work has been usurped by these current Lead Pencil imposters.

Oh, and the term "artist-architect" should be immediately consigned to the gallery of oxymorons that includes "military intelligence," "jumbo shrimp," and "glass art."

XO, Larry Reid

Continued on the jump ...

Continue reading "Letter of the Day" »

^{James "Buddy" Snipes's Little Billy, enamel on tin, wood, 3 by 3 by 1 inches.}

At Garde Rail Gallery.

^{Ben Frank Moss's N.W. Landscape Dream No. 196 (2000), oil on paper, 4 1/2 by 4 inches}

At Francine Seders Gallery.

^{Something to click safely back to when you're led astray by the links below.}

Yesterday I posted an image to Slog that probably is still gathering NSFW protests. It was an artwork by Kirsten Stoltmann called Punk (You Can't Handle the Truth)—a portrait of the pregnant artist seen from the front, sitting spread-legged on a chair, with the words "You Can't Handle the Truth" scrawled over her image, covering one of her breasts. Her other breast is exposed and so is a thatch of pubic hair under her distended belly.

At 3:45 pm I got an email from a reader:

Your recent post on the slog almost made me crap myself. I read the slog at work and having a book cover with a totally naked lady on it could have potentially made me lose my job depending on who would have seen it. Please never do that again.

I have mixed feelings about this.

On the one hand, I don't want anybody getting fired over a work of art (the image I put up is a work of art, not a book cover). If the question is not whether the image is pornographic but whether employers can be conservative jackasses, obviously, the answer is yes.

On the other hand, should I never post a nude except behind a link? That would pretty much have me hiding the history of art behind a curtain.

So what? you say. That "curtain" is nothing more than a technological detail, a run around the censoring bastards. It's meaningless. It doesn't matter whether the image is an artwork—with all the intentions of an artwork—or a paparazzi-snapped shot of Britney's vag as she wobbles out of a limo. They should be treated the same because of said bastards.

Except they aren't the same thing.

And the curtain isn't a totally meaningless device. It has not only pragmatic value, but a theatrical effect, too. I'm not beyond using it. In October, I posted a Nan Goldin photograph of two girls at play behind a jump because, I wrote, "It's not that it's NSFW. It's that it's not safe for adulthood." One of the girls at play has her legs spread. This was in the middle of a British debate about whether the photograph is obscene (the court decided no). In addition to the drama of using a jump, I thought it was interesting that, by choosing to click to see, online viewers would have a totally different experience from a gallery visitor who simply turns around and comes upon the image (as happened to me at the Henry Art Gallery in Seattle).

Now we come to yesterday's image of the nude, pregnant Kirsten Stoltmann. It's a straight-on portrait with nothing sexual going on, and one breast fully showing (it actually reminds me of pre-Renaissance madonnas like this one more than anything else).

Because I think women are ashamed enough of their bodies, I don't want to put a naked pregnant woman behind a curtain, and I'll admit that one reason I like working at The Stranger is that I don't have to. I'd also wager that's one reason you like reading The Stranger and Slog, even if you protested. It's not as if we're pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist when we make decisions to put things out there; we make those decisions, in part, as a fuck-you to the inanity of people who think a naked pregnant woman is obscene in the first place.

But on top of that is the fact that I'm posting art. Which nudes are OK? Just the old ones? Painted, but not photographed? (How about this classic?) Just the non-pregnant nudes, or pregnant nudes, which Charles claims couldn't entice anyone anyway? Or just the nudes, like Kirsten Stoltmann's, that might actually act as sexual deterrents, which are, in fact, making sex look like an event with possibly terrifying results? (Are come-ons like this album cover, which Amazon—a conventional workplace—is happy enough to post to its own web site, more or less SFW?)

I'm sincerely asking:

What are the actual guidelines of companies?

Is everyone who screams NSFW actually afraid of losing a job, or is it just that some things look even less like you're doing work than others?

If we agree that there's a substantive difference between art and celebrity shots or porn, then aren't you in a position to defend the difference?

Has anybody had to have these conversations with their employers? What was that like? Has anybody lost a job over this?

I don’t know these bands and I don’t really care if they suck or not, but this is an awesome poster. First off, it has a retro Rock-poster design with a kitten right in the middle of it. Rock-kittens are awesome. But more important, it’s a Leap Year poster. Or, I should say, it’s a Leap Day poster.

The show falls on the quadrillennial February 29th, this Friday. It's been 16 years since Leap Day fell on a Friday or Saturday, back in 1992. The next time will be in 2020. Traditionally, women were allowed to propose to their gents on Leap Day. But such a numerically auspicious day should have some sort of modern ritual associated with it, ideally one that involves leaping.

^{Kirsten Stoltmann's Punk (You Can't Handle the Truth) (2007), vinyl lettering on Plexi-face mount Lightjet print, paint, wood, 65 by 43 inches}

Two Fridays ago—shortly before I fell off the planet thanks to this bug that's going around—Roberta Smith drew my attention to this image by suggesting that, "no disrespect intended," it be turned into a poster. It's a portrait of Stoltmann herself, very pregnant, on display in the show Vaginal Rejuvenation with Stoltmann and Amanda Ross-Ho at Guild & Greyshkul in New York.

That same day, I was teaching feminism in my contemporary art history class at Cornish, so I brought in the image and asked my students who they thought the macho question was directed to. Structuralist feminists, they said.

Pregnancy: where the rubber hits the road.

^{Ryan Molenkamp's 17 Place (2007), oil on panel, 34 by 70 inches}

At Form/Space Atelier.

^{Lewis Wickes Hine's Driver In A West Virginia Mine ( 1909), modern gelatin silver copy print.}

At Whatcom Museum of History and Art.

^{Bruce Barnbaum's The Canyon Crucifix: Wolverine Canyon, Utah (2007), silver gelatin print}.

At Benham Gallery.

^{Kenneth Callahan's Figures in Motion, tempera and sumi on paper, circa late 1960s, 43 by 120 inches}

At Woodside/Braseth Gallery.

^{Damien Hirst}

At the Wright Exhibition Space.

^{Ronald Hall's Amistad (2006), oil on canvas}

At CoCA Belltown Gallery.

^{Hans Jorgensen's Fashion Photograph (1948), vintage silver print}

At Martin-Zambito Fine Art.

Today I'm flying south to see the Robert Irwin retrospective everyone's been talking about. While I'm down there, I'm also going to check out the new BCAM, which got the art diss last week and the architectural diss this morning. (Watch Roberta Smith's narrated slide show here.)

I'll be back Tuesday with a head full of responses.

^{From Fall Together/Fall Apart by Melissa Pokorny, 2008}

At Platform Gallery.

I'm normally the host on In/Visible, but this time, I'm the guest, interviewed by Christopher Frizzelle.

In the story "Gray Area" in this week's paper, I take a look at accusations that two prominent Seattle artists—Lead Pencil Studio, winners of a Stranger Genius Award—are copycats.

"Which is worse," I write, "theft or ignorance?"

On this podcast is everything that didn't make it into the story: more opinions from curators and the artists, what I think of the whole thing, and how it crossed my desk in the first place.

Listen in.

"Cool School: How LA Learned to Love Modern Art" is one of the most fun art documentaries I've seen. (It opens next week in Seattle.)

Shot largely in black and white (with color accents) as a gesture by the filmmaker, Morgan Neville, both to memory and to a certain irony, I found myself laughing out loud several times. There's important stuff here, sure—this scene, of the late 1950s and early 1960s, based at Ferus Gallery, was where Ed Kienholz's grimy assemblages, Robert Irwin's space-melting discs, and Andy Warhol's soup cans made their first appearances on the world stage.

But there are also some hysterical cliches. For instance, the scenes where Dennis Hopper and Dean Stockwell sit in leather chairs, suck on cigars, and talk about real art, man.

Neville's choice of Jeff Bridges as narrator—basically, the Dude—is pitch-perfect. When all the guys get together for a reunion, it's "Broadway Danny Rose" all over again, nostalgic and cranky. Ken Price and Craig Kauffman (I think it's those two) get in an argument over who blackballed Richard Diebenkorn from the gallery roster. Throughout, nobody holds back: Kauffman recalls the moment when he realized he was Irving Blum's whore. Blum, in his genteel Cary Grant accent, recalls just how he stole Walter Hopps's wife. Irving Karp disses LA from his perch in NY. Hopps, who everybody at first thought worked for the CIA because of his suits and his secretive voice, confesses his speed addiction. Just 12 days before his death, Hopps recites his favorite quote about art, by a poet friend of his: "Art offers the possibility of love with strangers."

It's great stuff, and Neville acts like the amber that encases canonical figures hasn't hardened yet on these guys. The result is a movie that's true to the best parts of its subjects.

^{Given the machismo of these artists, I love the hugginess of this photo.}

Yesterday on its web site, the New York Times published a story by Jori Finkel (coming out in print Sunday) questioning what will come of the undercover federal investigation that recently resulted in the raiding of four Southern California museums, including LACMA.

The investigation could also have broad implications for other museums across the country. In the affidavits filed to obtain search warrants, the agents laid the groundwork for a legal argument that virtually all Ban Chiang material in the United States is stolen property.

Finkel reported that this property is held at numerous museums who weren't part of the original California investigation, but to whom the potential legal and ethical implications apply. The known museums include the Metropolitan in New York; the Freer and Sackler Galleries in D.C.; the MFA in Boston; the Cleveland Museum of Art; the Minneapolis Institute of Arts; and the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco.

Seattle Art Museum is noted for its holdings in Asian art, so I called the museum yesterday to see whether it has any objects from the Ban Chiang settlement, the earliest known Bronze Age site in Southeast Asia.

Just one, according to SAM spokeswoman Cara Egan: an unglazed ceramic ritualistic funerary jar bought at an auction in New Haven, Conn., in an unknown year, and donated by that buyer to SAM in 1973 (it was accessioned to the collection in 1974).

It has never been on view, according to Egan.

A single pot is nothing compared to the dozens of objects held at other museums (and these pieces are not valuable on the level of the multi-million-dollar Klimts repatriated through Austria, for instance). But a stolen object is no less stolen for being alone and relatively unprecious.

The complication, however, is in determining whether to even classify these works as stolen. No indictments have been made yet in the Southern California cases. The case put together by the federal investigators relies on various laws that appear to have been variously applied. It's a mess, more or less.

Finkel cites a law professor urging all museums that hold Ban Chiang objects to review their holdings, "for ethical if not legal" reasons. But Finkel also cites a different law professor: “The whole thing could be dropped altogether because of insufficient evidence or because they are feeling weak about their legal theories, or this could move forward into an important, precedent-setting case.”

WWMGD? (What would Mimi Gates [SAM director] do?)

Gates was already out of the office when I called to put the question to her today; she'll be available for comment Tuesday, and I'll update then.

^{Helga Steppan's All my things/White (2004) from the series See Through, 36 by 30 inches, C-type print}

At James Harris Gallery.

^{A still from Takeshi Murata's video with sound, Monster Movie (2005)}

At Western Bridge.

Last night I discovered that James Harris Gallery—one of the leading galleries in Seattle, and one of the most distinctive spaces—is moving to a space twice its size. (Thank you!)

And the show that will open this new space on April 3?

Conceptual video master Gary Hill and young photographer/video artist Margot Quan Knight.

I saw the new space in its raw state last night: It's 1,800 square feet and has three separate zones, but Harris and gallery director Carrie E. A. Scott said they've taken care to make sure the place still "feels like Jim's," she said.

"It will seem like my gallery," he said, "but more polished."

The gallery that Harris has run for almost nine years at 309 Third Avenue South is small, quiet, and gorgeous. The walls are white and the floor creaking wood. The light is bright, and the artworks are few.

In the new gallery, only a block away at 312 Second Avenue South, the brick walls are still exposed, but soon they'll be covered over in drywall and painted white. The exterior of the building is brick and stone—it's one of those great Pioneer Square buildings—and the entryway is tiled.

At one side of the entrance is a glassed-in office, and at the other, a window seat. (The addition of seating is a plus.) Behind the reception area is the main room of the gallery, with two 25-foot walls, a 14-foot wall, and a 12-foot wall. It's the same size as the main room in the other gallery, though it feels a little larger because the ceiling, with exposed ductwork, is higher. It's too soon to say yet what it will really feel like to be inside the finished gallery, but the white decorative-tiled ceiling in the old space appears to be the only known loss in the upgrade.

Behind the main space is a closed room that can be used for video. Again, that room is the same size as the one it replaces—the back room of the current gallery—but it's free of the storage and flat-file cabinets that crowd the current back room.

Farther back still is where there'll be storage, a hall with a long wall that may be used to show multiples, and a public restroom that smells pungently like the Vietnamese restaurant next door. (The restaurant, Cafe Hue, like Harris's soon-to-be-former neighbor, Salumi, comes recommended.)

One other bonus: This gallery has A/C. In theory, summer heat at James Harris Gallery was charming; in practice, it was just summer heat trapped in a small container.

Harris notified his artists about the move in October. The gallery increasingly intends to mix artists based around the world with the regionally based artists it represents. "Message in a Bottle," the current show (more on that coming), is a demonstration, with artists from London, Seattle, New York, and San Francisco.

"We're trying to step up to the plate a little bit," Harris said. "We've talked to all our artist about stepping up and I think it's going to be exciting for the Seattle artists."

Harris said he was flattered that Hill's longtime dealer, the legendary Donald Young, agreed to let Harris show Hill's work at the opening. On view will be four video pieces from 2005.

Will Harris come to represent Hill in Seattle, his home city?

"If things go well, we're hoping four years from now we'll get a whole show of new work by him," Harris said.

^{Jen Stark's Flash Spectrum (2008), 12 x 12 inches, card stock}

At OKOK Gallery.

A week ago today, Jen Graves posted this oil-on-linen painting by Linda Davidson, Genie, and the post got a ton of comments, including: "Oooooh I like that!" and "That's stunning" and "Papa like" and "Bad ass!" Jubilation T. Cornball weighed in: "Wow. I could see this being done by a 19th Century English landscape artist. It's got Industrial Revolution vibes all over it. And it's gorgeous."

You remember the one, right?

The day after it was posted, Jubilation T. Cornball posted another comment to the thread: "At lunch today, this I went to the gallery and, I am pleased to report, this painting became the newest addition to the Jubilation T. Cornball Collection of Modern Art. Thanks, Jen, for alerting me to this beautiful painting."

It's true. I just got off the phone with Catherine Person at Catherine Person Gallery and she told me how it went down last week: "My assistant got a call from a Stranger reader asking me if the painting was still available. And we said: 'Yeah.'" They hadn't noticed that the painting had just been one of Jen Graves's daily Currently Hanging posts. Catherine Person Gallery gives images to the media all the time.

"I didn't know it was even online and then this guy came in and said: 'I saw it online and this is so what I'm into.' I hadn't met him before. I was so happy. I've had a lot of coverage before but nothing has resulted in a sale from print media. Not directly, like, 'I saw it here and I'm buying it now.' Not like that. It was great. And the guy's great. I'm actually going to deliver the piece on Saturday to his house, because it was too big for his vehicle."

The painting went for $1,900, plus tax. Linda Davidson has a solo show at Catherine Person Gallery in November.

^{Michael Leavitt's Scarecrow Penny Place (2008), 10 by 5 by 1 inches, acrylic on wood panel, acrylic on copper penny}

^{Michael Leavitt's Crocodile Guitar Pick (2008), 1 by 1.5 inches, acrylic on plastic pick}

At Gallery 63 Eleven.

^{A detail from Timea Tihanyi's The unexpected momentum of small things in a space occupied by other small (and relatively large) objects (2008), handmade paper, felt, and video.}

At Gallery 4Culture.

^{A still from Kutlug Ataman's Paradise, 2007}

At Vancouver Art Gallery.

^{Up there!}

In recent days, Richard Lacayo and Tyler Green have wondered where the great new American public sculpture is. In Seattle, there's a private sculpture park, but enthusiasm for public art has to be at an all-time low.

Then I discovered something that could be seriously promising.

Seattle artists John Grade (podcast here) and Lead Pencil Studio (podcast here and reviews here and here) and Berlin-based Jeppe Hein are the finalists in a competition for a major commission to build an installation on the exterior of the Tashiro-Kaplan building on the edge of historic Pioneer Square—and it may be sited on the roof of the building, for all the city to see.

The decision of who will win the commission will be made February 27, when all three artists will present their ideas to a panel of five representing 4Culture, King County's arts arm.

"We're here, and we have a roof, and why not," said county art collection manager Greg Bell. "If you stand out there and you look forward, it's just a great platform to build something up onto."

Bell said he's not sure how many square feet are available on the roof, or whether there are height restrictions. He said the panel invited 51 artists to apply, received 23 applications, and from that selected these three.

"They will be coming to us not necessarily with proposals, but we're expecting them to have some ideas," Bell said. "And then they'll go to work."

The panelists are: Jean Whitesavage (sculptor), Jay Deguchi (partner at Suyama Deguchi architecture), Bill True (collector), Flo Lentz (county historic preservation officer), and Cathryn Vandenbrink (Seattle representative for Artspace).

The county has designated the roof for the commission, but an artist with a better idea could use another part of the building's exterior, Bell said.

"For us, it's just an incredible opportunity to do something innovative," Bell said.

(One imagines its rooftop peers ... including this.)