by Angeliska on January 9, 2009
I have a piece in an amazing show that opens on my birthday
in New Orleans- if it’s possible for you to attend, I would highly recommend it!
I feel honored to be invited to participate in this project-
I wish I could be there for the opening.. Ah, if only I had ein doppelgänger!
Here’s all the info:
Barrister’s Gallery Presents:
Antiabecedarians, a Show of Telekinesis Proxenators in Franca Langua
32 artists, curated by Myrtle von Damitz, lll
January 10, 2009, 6-9pm
Through February 8
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA — “Antiabecedarians” is a word from the
Anna Livia passage of Finnegans Wake by James Joyce.
Although Mr. Joyce’s precise intent as to the definition of “antiabecedarian” is debated,
we intend that Antiabecedarians imply those who are familiar with the rudiments
and rules enough to turn them on their heads.
“Telekinesis proxenators in franca langua”
may be translated roughly as
“frankly or obscurely, pimps (and/or procurers) of anomalous perturbation.”
This exhibition, a selection of work from 32 contemporary artists,
whose use of a singular New Orleans narrative sets them apart,
will be on display at Barrister’s Gallery (2331 St. Claude Ave, 504.525.2767)
from January 10th to February 8th, 2009.
A public opening party is scheduled for Saturday, January 10th (6pm to 9pm).
New Orleans has been an introverted bohemian draw for centuries,
but recent international attention to all aspects of the city’s cultural phenomenons
has delivered new energy and intensity to its visual arts community.
The art scene in New Orleans is at a turning point.
The world’s established contemporary art market is at a turning point.
What matters now is not so much the hedge-fund insurance value
but the source and originality of work, and that it has
a meaning beyond the pure numbers of the market.
A brighter light was thrown on New Orleanians with the Prospect 1 Biennial —
the success of which (in the eyes of many locals) was the willingness
of the contemporary artists involved to throw off an entrenched, stagnant
language towards a sympathetic response in favor of the peculiar
and oddly coherent mechanics indigenous to New Orleans.
Many dynamic new visual arts alliances have formed since Hurricane Katrina-
not just out of the intellectual petri dish of Barrister’s Gallery but as a response
to a wider desire of local artists to communicate with their friends and neighbors
and to broadcast their sensibilities to the rest of the world.
One such group alligned with Barrister’s Gallery
and the Antiabecedarians is the New Orleans Airlift
This show is not just a display of the works of transient personas,
this is a part of the new network of exchange between New Orleans and the rest of the world.
The artists in Antiabecedarians make their home in New Orleans or have strong ties to New Orleans-
they work not only to rebuild, hack apart and accurately construct
the glorious text of New Orleans from this vantage,
but to reach out to the newly converted.
Below are some highlights from the show,
from friends and beloveds:
From “Memorandum of Agreement.”
A detail from Cat’s Claw
by Myrtle von Damitz III
by Shannon Brinkman
(of Walt and I can’t tell who that lady is)
I painted this a while back and then hid her away.
Now she gets to come out and frolic with all my friends
on my whelping day! Her polka-dot goatie is thrilled to pieces!
“Rosacea Arch,” by Dana Sherwood
“Ivan’s Hands,” by Pandora Andrea Gastelum
In other exciting news, I have a piece of short fiction published
in the most recent TANK magazine- which also features
some great articles on a lot of the same dear New Orleans friends..
It feels good to kick off the new year with showing art and putting
my writing out there in a more formal way- here’s to more o’ that!
The lyrics go like so:
Our cat wants to get married
Yesterday she promised it to her boyfriend
Hey cat, don’t do it!
Who will catch our mice?
Be careful little cat
When you get married you will be stupid
because your boyfriend doesn’t want to work
and you will become a beggar
Hey tomcat, you’ve got sharp claws
Don’t walk around our walls
You never do anything
Except date our white cat!