Posts Tagged ‘art’
Ed Ruscha Dog, 1994
Print on handmade paper
Gain a parking lot; lose your artists. That’s Venice mediocre future if work on a segment of a parking lot (slated to lie between Abbot Kinney Blvd and Electric Avenue) continues as planned this August 14.
Though the lot, which will feature metered parking, has long been touted as a benefit for the valued small businesses of our community, VenicePaper has been informed that the paving of its first phase-between Venice Boulevard and Palms Avenue-will entail the removal of a much-used, albeit shabby work-area situated behind studio spaces occupied by artists Ed Ruscha and Laddie John Dill. Prompting the low-key Ruscha to consider leaving Venice after years working here.
Ruscha is said to be loathe to ask for favors. But this isn’t about a favor for him. This is about a favor for Venice.
Both economically and philosophically it benefits Venice, and our Abbot Kinney business district, to keep Ruscha, Dill and as many artists as we can in within the area. The parking area adjacent to their studios should remain unpaved and undisturbed.
As for Dill, he has given a lifetime of favors to Venice. On his back, Art Walk was built. Lest you think Art Walk simply drove dollars to the Venice Family Clinic, think again. Art Walk was the mega-marketing vehicle that trumpeted the unique lifestyle Venice offered, creating the vibe that sold a thousand art lofts.
Between the two men, they have helped put Venice on the map, changed the way the world sees our community, elevated it’s place in the artworld and supported a multitude of Venetians and local businesses.
From Venice Paper
Portrait of Maurice, an art dealer’s dog
Andy Warhol (Artist, with his dog Archie), 1973, Photograph © Jack Mitchell)
This was the cover art for “Tintin in the new World” by Frederic Tuten.
But carping is absurd when dealing with a novel so richly inventive and so subtly textured. Who can resist a text that interpolates Snowy’s thoughts and canine romances into the running narrative, that drops certain corny paragraphs into quotation marks in order to suggest their bogus novelistic tone, but that somehow remains — dare I say it? — sincere?
Edmund White reviews Tintin in the New World for the New York Times
John Baldessari: Dog (Blue), Canoe/Shark Fins (One Yellow), Capsized Boat’, 2001, lithograph
I call it the Baldessari 6-minute 30-second Boiled egg ritual. Time, place: Ambiance is important – kitchen with view of garden – 6.30a.m., the L.A. and New York Times, filtered coffee (Peet’s), filtered water, no cream. My dog (Labrador) matches floor colour), dozing. Dress: T-shirt, gym shorts, moccasins.
I usually do it perfectly. Sometimes my dog will awake and bark at a squirrel outside. The outside door must be closed or else I hear my neighbour’s wind chimes. No sound except for opera, off cable tv (easier than hunting for a cd).
I’ve been a year working on an egg white omelet. Too many variations, and each must be perfect.
Upon reading this I realize it is really an attempt to do something perfectly and flawlessly. Everything else during any day is dicey, although my plan each day is to have that day go perfectly. (I suppose it’s one of the reasons I do art.) What it boils down to is micro-utopia.
John Baldessari. Yours in Food
Dog Trumpet is the vehicle for the musical activities of brothers Peter O’Doherty and Reg Mombassa. They formed the band in 1990 to record and play their original songs. They play as an acoustic duo or as a full band with various line-ups of guest musicians.
Reg and Peter were long-time members of Mental as Anything but they left the Mentals at the dawn of the third Millennium to concentrate on their artwork. Peter is a painter and has exhibited his pictures in Australia, England and New Zealand. Reg has exhibited his paintings and drawings in Australia, England, New Zealand and Italy. He is also a t-shirt designer for Mambo Graphics.
My purpose is to make something like a dog, or like flames; something that has a life of its own.
A mobile is like a dog-catcher. A dog-catcher of wind. Dog-catchers go after any old dog; my mobiles catch any kind of wind, bad or good.
I’m like my mobiles; when I walk in the streets I latch onto things too.