Valentino and Others at Hollywood Memorial Park

Looking North Towards the Entrance of Hollywood Memorial Park

This past Sunday, August 23, I made a point of visiting Hollywood Forever Cemetery at 12:10 pm (more on that later in the post). I had been to the graveyard before for Cinespia, the summertime Saturday evening movie screenings, but I had never visited just to wander about. Below are some pictures of the scenery, tombstones, and grave markers from my visit, roughly arranged in a counter-clockwise tour.

Though this would have made a fitting final image, by walking straight ahead to the second "block" in the park, one will see a cluster of Jewish graves on the left. I've noticed that some visitors like to leave coins behind, and one slab of marble had bas reliefs of silver dollars and a hundred dollar bill embedded in the surface. I guess they don't take Visa in the afterlife. Just past this cluster is Mel Blanc, right next to the road.

From Mel's marker, cut across the graves, away from the road, to the east. You'll eventually come to the marker above. From what I remember, this marble model of an Atlas rocket marked the grave of a graphic designer, presumably a space buff. I couldn't help but remember The Loved One, both Evelyn Waugh's book, and the movie with the script by Christopher Isherwood. I wonder if this marker was inspiration for either writer.

Continuing east, one will see an obelisk (the base is in the left of the photo), one of a trio of LA Times markers. Interred here are the Otis and Chandlers, along with a memorial that points to the Times' long history of anti-union sentiment. Walk up to the road and continue east.

On your right is the reflecting pool and grave for Douglas Fairbanks.

On the other side of the road is the monument for Johnny Ramone. Instead of leaving coins, someone has left a guitar pic.

On the same side of the road, continuing east are a couple of free standing crypts. One is done in an Egyptian style. By looking through the door, this stained glass window is visible.

Across the street is the entrance to the Cathedral Mausoleum. Inside along the rear aisle (to the right) is Peter Lorrie's ashes and movie director William Desmond Taylor, one of Hollywood's most famous unsolved murders. Several of Taylor's male and female lovers were suspect, but the case was never solved. On the rear aisle to the left are Peter Finch, and just beyond him is Rudolph Valentino, who died August 23, 1926 at 12:10 pm. Every year since his death, a mysterious woman dressed in black with a veil over her face has left red roses at that exact time, and this year was no exception. The crowd was a mix of very beautiful men and women dressed in period clothing, women who could of been the granddaughters of Valentino's first fans, and a handful of movie buffs. The fact that the 62nd anniversary fell on a weekend probably increased the turnout.

Outside the mausoleum, across the street is a small lake with an island supporting a large crypt. My tour continued counter-clockwise around the pond.

Near the water is this book, bench, and urn monument for Tyrone Power, inscribed with lines from Hamlet. Nearby is a very large crypt with the name Douras over the door. Inside is Marion Davies, William Randolph Hearst's moll. The beach house Hearst built for Davies recently opened as a public facility in Santa Monica, and can be visited for the price of parking.

On the other side of the Douras crypt is Charlie Chaplin's mother.

To your left is one of those tall columnar junipers. At it's base is Virginia Rappe, who is most famous for dieing of trauma sustained at an orgy in "Fatty" Arbuckle's hotel suite.

Continuing around the pond to the north, one will see a pair of similar tall junipers. at its base is Janet Gaynor. Next to the road on the north side of the "block" is the tomb for Cecil B. DeMille. Walking along the road (back towards the mausoleum) is Don Adams, close to the road.

A bench under a Chinese Elm, provides a restful end to the tour. Past the tree is director John Huston, hidden under a hibiscus bush. Across the road is Darren McGavin. Having starred in The Night Stalker, an X-Files type show, his grave is a popular stop among cemetery aficionados.

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On Thin Ice: Gilbert and George

Gilbert Stuart's The Skater (Portrait of William Grant)

This post is both a deviation and continuation from my previous post on race and agency. Mostly illustrated with images of George Washington, it brought to mind Gilbert Stuart and some of his other works.

Stuart was not the best money manager by a long shot. During the Revolutionary War, Stuart left for Europe, where he had some success as an artist, but also narrowly avoided debtor's prison. Back in the United States his financial situation didn't improve, and he died leaving his family with a heavy burden of debt. Stuart was well regarded as a painter, and cranked out something like a thousand portraits of America's early upper class. Stuart also sold 70 copies of his portrait of Washington at a hundred bucks a pop.

Is That a Cannon, or Are You Just Glad to See Me?
Cropped Shot of the Newly Opened American Galleries at the Huntington Library
(with one of 130 portraits of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart, r)

One of his many portraits is a work titled, "Alleged portrait of George Washington's cook," in the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza in Madrid. Other portrait by Stuart in the museum give the sitter's name; by calling him "Washington's cook," the title implies that the position was entered into voluntarily. The cook, named Hercules, was Washington's slave brought from the President's Mt. Vernon plantation to work as chef at the first presidential house in Philadelphia. Washington's letters to and from his secretary show that they were concerned about the possible freedom of the nine slaves he brought to Pennsylvania. State law allowed the for the emancipation of any slave brought to the state after six months. Washington's work around was to periodically rotate his staff between his farm the the presidential home. Like George Bush, Washington used geography to subvert the intentions of the law.

I'm sure Washington was aware of his home state of Virginia's Declaration of Rights, which preceded (and informed) the more famous July 4th document:

"That all men are by nature equally free and independent, and have certain inherent rights, of which, when they enter into a state of society, they cannot, by any compact, deprive or divest their posterity; namely, the enjoyment of life and liberty, with the means of acquiring and possessing property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety."

The institution of slavery was problematic for both the Declaration of Independence and the document quoted above. Recent excavations on the site of the President's house show that a second well was dug on the back of the property during Washington's tenure. The original well, which could be seen from the home's entry, would have been used by the slaves to draw water for the household, and the sight of Washington's enslaved household staff would have been problematic for visiting Europeans and abolitionists. Excavations also uncovered a tunnel connecting the main house to the kitchen, providing access for servants to all areas while remaining out of sight.

Souvenir: A Piece of Dark Chocolate from the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza in Madrid

A vivid picture of Hercules can be drawn from Parke Custis' Recollections:

"...His prerequisites from the slops of the kitchen were from one to two hundred dollars a year. Though homely in person, he lavished the most of these large avails upon dress. In making his toilet his linen was of unexceptional whiteness and quality, then black silk shorts, ditto waistcoat, ditto stockings, shoes highly polished, with large buckles covering a considerable part of the foot, blue cloth with velvet collar and bright metal buttons, a long watch-chain dangling from his fob, a cocked-hat and gold-headed cane completed the grand costume of the celebrated dandy of the president's kitchen.

Thus arrayed, the chief cook invariably passed out at the front door, the porter making a low bow, which was promptly returned. Joining his brother-loungers of the pave, he proceeded up Market street, attracting considerable attention, that street being, in the old times, the resort where fashionables 'did most congregate.'"

It's quite probable that someone so concerned with their appearance and social standing (and with the financial means) could commission a portrait by Stuart, and the cash-strapped artist would react favorably.

Black Face: A Souvenir From the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza

When the time came for Hercules rotation to Vermont, he became aware of the underlying reason for the move. Tobias Lear, the president's secretary reported,

"...and altho' he made not the least objection to going; yet, he said he was mortified to the last degree to think that a suspicion could be entertained of his fidelity or attachment to you. So much did the poor fellow's feelings appear to be touched that it left no doubt of his sincerity and to shew him that there were no apprehensions of that kind entertained of him, Mrs. Washington told him he should not go at that time."

Even though Hercules remained in Philadelphia long after the time when he could claim his freedom, he remained as Washington's enslaved chef until March of 1797, the night before he was to be returned to Mt. Vernon. Washington made several attempts track down and capture his fugitive slave, but he was never found. About a month later, Hercules's 6-year-old daughter, was asked if she was upset that she would never see her father again. The girl reportedly replied, "Oh! Sir, I am very glad, because he is free now."










Hercules was legally freed in 1801. A little more than half the 285 slaves on Washington's plantation were dower slaves, legally owned by Martha from her previous marriage. Washington hoped to free his slaves upon his death, but not wanting to tear apart families created by the inter marrying of the two groups of slaves, his will stipulated that they would be freed upon Martha's Death. This created a predicament for the former fist lady. The only thing standing between Washington's 124 enslaved black Americans and freedom was Martha's beating heart. In a fit of self preservation, she was forced to free her husband's slaves early.






On my visit to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza in Madrid, the only reproductions of Hercules' portrait were the two pictured above, both with racist overtones (dark chocolate? black face?). Along with changing their description from "Supuesto retrato del cocinero de George Washington" to "Supuesto retrato de Hércules, el cocinero esclavizados de George Washington" (Supposed portrait of Hercules, the enslaved cook of George Washington), they would be able to offer less racist options from their museum store, along with a more accurate account, in the style they use to describe pictures of white folks in their museum.

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Race, Myth, and Agency

I’m going to give this post a subtitle:

Where the Author Makes Synaptic Connections Between the Beer Summit, George Washington, Race, South Park, an International Conference in Cancun, Malcolm Gladwell, Babies with AIDS, Thomas Jefferson, Théodore Géricault, Beach Access, Healthcare, and Human Agency.

Gilbert Stuart's George Washington (the Athenaeum portrait)

The current (August 17/24, 2009) issue of The Nation prints an op/ed on the recent brouhaha over the detainment of a black Harvard professor by a white middle class cop. The whole episode and subsequent media coverage brings to mind The Jeffersons, a season eight episode of South Park, where Michael Jackson’s move to South Park is complicated by a cabal of cops intent on putting anyone behind bars who attempts to be “black while rich.” Both Gary Younge’s commentary and South Park point to the ingrained racism of individuals rather than problems with the system itself. Using the example of cab drivers picking up fares, Younge states,

“Racism discriminates against people on the grounds of race. Just like it says on the packet. It can be as arbitrary in its choice of victim as it is systemic in its execution. And while it never works alone (but rather in cahoots with class, gender and a host of other rogue characters), it has political license to operate independently.”

Just a week before Henry Louis Gates Jr.’s arrest in his home, Obama addressed the NAACP,

“We’ve got to say to our children: Yes, if you’re African-American, the odds of growing up amid crime and gangs are higher. Yes, if you live in a poor neighborhood, you will face challenges that somebody in a wealthy suburb does not have to face. But that’s not a reason to get bad grades. That’s not a reason to cut class… No one has written your destiny for you…”

The implication here is that if you’re willing to yank on your own bootstraps hard enough, you can lift yourself off the ground.

Unknown Artist's Death of Washington Dec. 14 AD 1799

About eight years ago I was invited to attend an international conference on health care resource allocation. The meeting was small, about 200 people (mostly physicians) and included ministers of health from developing countries, the head of UN AIDS and the EU’s global health care initiatives, and me. At the time I was collecting unused HIV meds and sending them to a clinic in South America. You’ve heard of microeconomics? I was micro-health care resource allocation.

At the meeting, one of the speakers asked people to raise their hands to vote as he counted from one to five. The question he posed was, “How much influence to individuals have over their own behavior, one being complete control and five meaning that their behaviors can be attributed to various factors beyond personal control, like income, education, genetics, and other things?” I don’t think a single hand went up before four, and most of us raised our hand on five.

Folks like Malcolm Gladwell can point to an exceptionalism that implies human agency (it only takes 10,000 hours of bootstrap pulling), but if you’re an HIV-positive baby born in Sub-Saharan Africa, you can most likely strike “astronaut” off your list of goals, along with surviving to puberty.

Emanuel Leutze's George Washington Crossing the Delaware

A similar concern around agency befuddled our founding fathers, and in particular, Thomas Jefferson. When crafting the constitution, Jefferson’s concern was for future generations and the fundamental right of the population to consent to their particular system of governance. Those who fought in the war and elected our first congress consented to be governed by their actions. But what of the generations to follow? If you just happened to be born in America, how do you “consent to be governed?” Jefferson’s solution was to create a constitution that expired after a generation—nineteen years by his calculation. But the convoluted rhetorical solution the founding fathers arrived at was tacit assent. If you don’t rock the boat (or bear arms against the status quo) you’re giving your tacit assent to the existing system.

Often the language of the revolutionary war was couched in metaphors of slavery. Patrick Henry called the insurgency, “a question of freedom or slavery.” From Rhode Island to South Carolina, inflamed rhetoric created the fear that British control would reduce Americans, “to the most abject slavery.” This conflation was stated most succinctly by George Washington,

“The time is now at hand which must probably determine, whether Americans are to be, Freemen, or Slaves. Our cruel and unrelenting Enemy leaves us no choice but a brave resistance, or the most abject submission… We have therefore to resolve to conquer or die.”

The unfortunate outcome of these lines of thinking was to see tacit assent to slavery by blacks, bound to the paternalistic image of the slaveholder. This scenario gets represented in images of George Washington’s deathbed, which according to François Furstenberg,

“promoted a paternalist vision of slavery grounded in bonds of affection. Slaves might not, admittedly, have given their formal consent to their status. But the obvious bonds of affection linking them to their masters—the tears they shed upon Washington’s death, for instance—seemed to signal a tacit assent to their enslavement.”

The “Live Free or Die” mythology surrounding the American Revolution forces subsequent generations to believe in the fiction of a choice between personal agency and tacit assent to the status quo. Obama regurgitates this myth when he implies that all Americans—regardless of race—can write their own destiny. The harm in a belief in agency comes from the subsequent idea that problems caused by racial and economic inequality can be fixed by admonishing African leaders to be less corrupt, Muslims to be more tolerant of difference, and kids in the ghetto not to engage in criminal activity. By placing the power to change social and economic injustice on the individual, it absolves society of the difficult task of creating systemic change that ameliorates obstacles to these problems.

Théodore Géricault's Study of a Torso for The Raft of the Medusa

Besides looking at cable channel cartoons, I’ve also been looking at Théodore Géricault’s Raft of the Medusa. Géricault sketched out many versions of the episode, from the mutiny, to the subsequent cannibalism, and eventual rescue. Unlike some of his studies, there are no severed body parts in the final painting. Géricault captures an early sighting of the Argus, as it searches—not for survivors, but to retrieve gold left on the grounded ship. In the moment depicted in the final canvas, the Argus does not see the raft; rescue would not come for several days. In the final painting, Géricault lays out a complicated story. At the apex of the pyramid of figures, a black man signals with what appears to be a tattered piece of flag. The person with the least personal agency in normal, early 19^th century European contexts is the one taking action. The figures of Henri Savigny and Alexandre Corréard (the ship’s surgeon and geographer respectively) whose written account, Naufrage de la frégate la Méduse, faisant partie de l’expédition du Sénégal en 1816, partly informed Géricault’s depiction, are depicted near the mast, arguing over the reality or illusion of the speck of a ship on the horizon. As the crest of the figurative grouping washes out to the edges of the raft (and the foreground of the painting) Géricault depicts death and despair. Because paintings are normally read foreground to horizon, the works emotional cadence moves from despair, to debate, to hope, to taking action.

In 1918, the year the Raft was exhibited at the Paris Salon, viewers would have been quite familiar with newspaper accounts of the shipwreck—as well as Savigny and Corréard’s book. It seems obvious in the final work that the darkest moments had yet to come. In one sketch, Géricault shows a survivor gnawing on a cadaver’s arm. When the fifteen survivors were rescued (of the 150 that first set out on the raft) strips of human flesh were hanging to dry in the sun. So while Géricault gives the apical figure—a black man—the power and resolve to act, there are no heros. Bootstraps were not for yanking one from a dire situation to resolution, but a meal between the quickly exhausted supply of food and the dive into cannibalism.

While I was in Cancun for the Healthcare Resource Allocation conference, I took the little combis (privately owned vans) that ran between the 12 miles of sand spit where the resorts are packed shoulder to shoulder to the old town of Cancun (and its one gay bar). Back at the hotel, I would have to walk past the front desk to get to my room. If I passed with a white person, nothing would happen. If the individual were dark (a local resident), they would be stopped, made to show ID and asked to register and leave a deposit, or leave. Once you passed the gauntlet of private property security, you could reach the publicly owned beach, walk up and down the surf and enter any hotel at will. Closer to home in Malibu, where gated mansions are packed shoulder to shoulder and impede access to the public beach, a similar situation occurs. In one case, the solution is to tell people with dark skin that if they work hard enough, they can purchase a $500-a-night room or buy their own coastal property. In California, the other solution is to create systemic change, cutting easements that allow public access to the beaches between the private homes. Of course the Malibu landowners would prefer the Mexican system, and periodically tear down the signs that point out the access routes.

Comparing Géricault's and Leutze's vessels, is it any wonder that the French acknowledged the necessity of systemic change, creating universal free healthcare, while America offers the myth of personal agency.

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Murder She Wrote at CalArts

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night...

I believe this was the after-hours scene where either the guy everyone wanted dead got murdered, or his body was discovered by the janitor. Look familiar?

Here Comes Jessica Fletcher to Solve the Case

I believe this shot is looking the other way in either the same hallway or the next one over. Both look like the halls around the Critical Studies faculty offices. These pics are screen captures from Season 3, Episode 15 of Murder She Wrote. The episode title is The Bottom Line Is Murder.

Day (Above) and Night (Below): CalArts as Denver TV Station KBLR

The show aired in 1987, so it was probably shot when I was a junior. I remember the KBLR logo in the lobby of the school, but that shot never made it in to the episode. While I was going to school, I was also working for Leona Van Scoyk whose husband Robert was the executive story editor for the series.

Spoiler Alert: Someone Gets Murdered, the Wrong Person is the Suspect, and in 48 Minutes Angela Lansbury Solves the Crime

School Entrance

I love the scenes outside the building, showing the carob trees and eucalyptus that don't grow in the Rockies.

The Dance Theater?

The shot above and below look both ways on the same set. Back in the 80's, the Critical Studies department had one class that was a requirement for all first year students: The 20th Century: Form and Signification in Modernism. If only Sande Cohen had a super-sized Nagel portrait hanging behind him.

Space Program Budget Slashed; Lt. Sulu finds work as Janitor

The bleacher seating was set up in the dance theater once a week while I was there, though there are many nondescript black box rooms on campus.

Adrienne Barbeau

I believe this is the first floor hallway that leads out to the dorms. This was Adrienne Barbeau's second visit to CalArts. The first time was with her husband John Carpenter for the filming of Escape from New York.

Same Hallway, Other Direction

In the image two up, you can see what the fire doors looked like before someone from the physical plant decided on the Caribbean Island chattel house color scheme. Back in the 80's, physical plant opted for the bold graphics in sea foam green and peach.

Animation Studios?

I'm amazed at all the locations they wiggled into. Those are probably class assignments and student work the extras are rifling through. The set is supposed to be the offices of an evil toy importer.

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Larry Johnson at the Hammer

Larry Johnson's Untitled (Ass) 2007 (~5' sq.)

For The LA Times' Christopher Knight:

"...despite all the campy jokes, double entendres, cartoon characters, pastel hues, bright primary colors and crisp graphic designs on abundant display in the work he has made over the last 25 years, the exhibition is relentlessly bleak."

For a non-Christian, catching sight of their first medieval altarpiece in a dimly lit church, might find the image of a nailed and bloody Christ "bleak," even amongst the gold-leafed splendor of the nave. For proponents of the church, the crucifixion represents but one pivotal moment of a long story that ends in eternal triumph. For the post colonial scholar, the graphic rendering of a Roman execution signifies the gross manipulation on an illiterate population, and along with gunpowder and smallpox, a tool to bring about the extinction of indigenous cultures around the world.

Larry Johnson's Untitled (Heh, Heh) 1987 (~18")

I only bring this up to point out that the persuasiveness of images does not rely on visual literacy or being a member of a targeted audience, nor is it diffused by secular understanding or disbelief. From the pyramids of Meso-America to Madison Avenue, visual imagery has power. You don't have to want or own an iPod for the products advertising and ubiquity to have an effect on your life. Madison Avenue understands that they no longer needs to directly and overtly present a call to buy a product from the company that paid for the advertising. Some examples here here here here here and here.

Larry Johnson's Untitled (Grief is Devastating) 1985 (~smallish)

These multiple layers of penetrability (or understanding) are evident in work like Grief is Devastating. The text can be read as an amalgam of biographical episodes, or a glossy synopsis of a pivotal slice of American tragedy. For the scholar, knowledge that the text came from TV Guide, allows themselves a pat on the back as both an outsider to the influence of popular media and an insider as a member of the art world cognoscenti. In a very real way, Larry Johnson pulls a Madison Avenue on the viewer, allowing them to feel as cool and hip as the person whose reading this review on an Apple Company product. Bobby Kennedy, like Jesus on the cross, is merely an object of a larger conversation. The real subject of the art is your relationship to the presentation of the story.

Larry Johnson's Untitled (Perino's Front, Perino's Rear) 1998 (~huge)

Armed with bits of critical theory, the best art that comes from CalArts' MFA program is work that responds to art writing with work that visually articulates a counter-argument, crating a crisis for the curators and critics. In MOCA's big post-Pictures exhibition, the title, A Forrest of Signs, Ann Goldstein pointed to the "...current crisis of finding meaning in the multiplicity of signs that exist in today's culture." In one of the catalog's essays, Howard Singerman points to Sontag's essay, Against Interpretation.

"Susan Sontag rode to the defense of the work of art against what she held was the numbing and displacing power of criticism. Interpretation, she wrote, is 'the revenge of the intellect upon art,' and more, 'a wish to replace it by something else.' Sontag mounted her defense on two fronts; she insisted that criticism 'serve the work of art' (and, in her final demand for 'an erotics of art,' even love it)..."

For many of Johnson's fellow CalArtians in A Forrest of Signs, the best defense was a good offense, where the artist's practice leveled a critique of the various schools of art criticism and theory. In Johnson's case, this was accomplished not some much with erotics, but with an overt (or sometimes sly) use of camp.

Johnson's diptych of Perino's looks like the image could have been purloined from a matchbook cover, considering the restaurant's Hollywood golden-era heyday. Likewise the alley behind the eatery played host to the heyday of gay sexual and social intercourse, before it was irrevocably damaged by AIDS and the Internet. Once again, Johnson gives surface satisfaction. For those who desire a deeper penetration of the work, there are other pleasures hidden in Perino's smelly back side.

Detail of Larry Johnson's Untitled (Movie Stars on Clouds) 1982/84 (~smallish)

Johnson is keen to present us with a view of celebrity that inverts the classic Christian model, creating altarpieces for the TMZ generation. Turning the medieval story on its head, Johnson gives us one pivotal moment of triumph in a story that ends in tragedy. After viewing Natalie Wood's name in clouds, one need only cross the street to Westwood Cemetery to find the same text on a tombstone.

The Larry Johnson solo exhibition is on view at the Hammer through September 6, 2009.

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The China Syndrome at CalArts

Still from The China Syndrome, 1979

Back when I first attended CalArts in the 80's, it was fairly common for the Hollywood studios to use CalArts as a film location. An episode of Airwolf was filmed there, along with an episode of Murder She Wrote. For one shoot, a fake art gallery full of fake art was built in the Main Gallery. In the picture above, the yellow banner below the "No Nuclear" sign covers up the school's name.

Fake Public Testimony in the Main Gallery

All the props used, like the tables and chairs, were part of the existing CalArts furnishings. At the time, the only chair on campus were David Rowland's 40/4 chair. I remember hearing that one of the reasons CalArts was a popular location was the wide hallways, which made it easier to shoot at right angles to the walls. It was a generic modern space, and in the case of The China Syndrome, it became a nuclear regulatory institutional space.

Fake Public Testimony, Real Student Art

It's interesting to see art in the background. Now days, artists charge for these kinds of appearances. The light display on the side of the LAX control tower winds up in the background of many Hollywood movies. The artist Sheila Klein is able to generate steady income by suing the movie companies for unauthorized depictions of her work. Until recently, I didn't realize that it was a work of public art.

I'm Fonda this Image:
Michael Douglas and Jane Fonda on the Main Gallery Staircase

We used this staircase for a reinvention of Allan Kaprow's Scales, as probably did Allan, 35 years before. What caught my eye was the tubular drawing on the wall, and the way it lines up with the actors' sight lines. This particular still reminds of the appropriated movie stills used by John Baldessari. One of Baldo's fetishes is emphasizing the interactive space between two figures, as seen here, here, here, and here.

My Fake Baldo

Thinking about the era The China Syndrome was made, and how CalArtians like Jack Goldstein and David Salle (among others) were using appropriated imagery long before Baldessari adopted the practice.

The Mezzanine Gallery

For recent visitors to CalArts, they might not realize that twenty years ago there were five hundred fewer students on campus. The still above shows the Main Gallery's mezzanine before it became a warren of studio cubicles. One advantage to the lower attendance is that it allowed non-art majors to use the gallery spaces, and it also gave art students the opportunity (and space) to curate shows.

Thanks to Adam Feldmeth for reminding be about this movie, now streaming on Netflix.

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CalArts New Blog 24700

Screenshot of 24700

I haven't been doing much posting lately; there are things in the works, so I expect posting will go back to 2 or 3 times a week soon. In my own personal cyber life I've been doing some culling lately. Like most of the readers here I intentionally and inadvertently subscribe to blogs, email alerts, press offices of institutions, galleries, and dead tree publications. Unlike the metaphorical frog in a pot of water, I occasionally realize it's too much, and I'll cull my address from announcement lists and unsubscribe in my blog reader (I'm down to following about 25 bloggers, after cutting eight and adding two).

Since I'm a not-so-secret mafia member, I thought I'd point out 24700, CalArts entry into the blog-o-sphere. The school has been pretty consistent in jumping on trends once they've become well-worn paths. When I was TA for Tom Lawson, I managed to create the first website for a survey course in the history of the art department, dragging it into the 90's with my limited interweb skills. This gave students an opportunity to download the syllabus, reading assignments, upload homework, and receive and offer feedback.

I won't comment on the quality, since their just starting out and it's not evident the direction the blog will take. My sense is that blogs fall into broad typologies. There are amalgamators, those who troll the real world along with the web, and essentially post some combination of blurbs and links. In the art world, places like C-Monster, Art Fag City (and many others) post links and tidbits that align with their interests. I read one of these, as reading multiple re-posters produces an irritating echo effect (how many times do I need to read that Julius Schulman died?). Currently I get a weekly events email from CalArts, so reading about REDCAT events again and again and again and again is redundant.

Another potential challenge is in posting in a way that would be of interest to the targeted audience. I think LACMA's Unframed does a better than expected job of this, so I'm more willing to read a brief but entertaining post on Oceanic Art, which isn't a gallery I frequent on my visits to the museum. Perhaps 24700's intended audience are donors or potential students, so their posts might not be of interest, and the point is moot. Like LACMA, CalArts has to speak to an audience that's highly educated about one narrow slice of the arts while they may be oblivious about others. I can go on about institutional critiques; just don't ask me the difference between Javanese and Balinese gamelans. Scott Taylor from Public Affairs posted an interesting tidbit from the archives, and other posts come from left field.

Over the years, my personal preference in keeping a blog has been to create new content. That usually means looking at art and the social and political spaces of my environment, having an independent thought, and typing it up. Perhaps my CalArts-centric posts over the next week will give some idea of the quality of conversation I'm looking for.

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