Tag Archives: women

Louise Bourgeois retrospective at MOCA

Go see it, it’s brilliant.

And I know great art when I see it (though I also know that’s a bit time-worn as phrases go). But she truly is great. Generally speaking I don’t go much for the art of the so desperately personal, but her work is incredibly moving and provocative and it hits you in your stomach where you carry your most visceral of emotions…for decades it has circled and circled around themes of the body, love, family, sex, a traumatic childhood of male patronage and infidelity…it repeats shapes in different forms that skate a continuous line between masculine and feminine, beauty and horror, being and becoming…it comprises an astonishing number of mediums that are all exquisitely carried out: sculpture in wood and plaster and latex and stone, collages with fabric and bits and pieces of everything including orange peels, sewn figures with gaping holes, installations, paintings and drawings, the written word.

They are a strange mix of the tender and the repulsive, sometimes beautiful, always provoking, and so many with a strange edge of terror and violence that trickles down your spine. We both love spirals, and she says of them that they are attempts to control chaos and also freedom, and asks whether you find yourself in the vortex or on the periphery? She says she hates men obsessing over their penis…that it is not the appendage she dislikes, but what it is attached to. I love wit, and her art has both wit and raw emotion in an uneasy balance that gives it power.

No pictures can do the pieces justice at all, for her more than most people I think. But my favourites were the personages and the installations, particularly the red rooms. The personages look like this (This picture from the New York Times)

There were others that were blocks stacked one upon the other…I found them eerie and beautiful and they made me think.

The red rooms, on the other, scared the hell out of me. Here is what the parent’s room looks like, hard to know where the terror comes from I know, even when you’re standing in front of it. Perhaps that is why I like it so much

They are surrounded by a sort of a spiral made by doors, I won’t even begin on the symbolism of that! You can only peek into it, and the parent’s room you can really only see through the mirror, and it is red…and it should be peaceful with a couple of toys on the chest at the foot of the bed, but there is a looming shadow over the pillows and I don’t know, but it was terrifying. The way The Shining was terrifying. The children’s room was overtly terrifying with entwined sculptures of limbs cut off at the elbow, you stare at it through a window in one of the doors, children have no privacy.

I liked the spider as well…nothing represents horror better than a giant spider with long spindly legs ending in rather dangerous looking points, and yet they are oddly protective, maternal…

Go see it if you’re in LA.

There has been a police helicopter circling near my house for two hours now. I hate them. If I were an artist I’d be obsessed with helicopters…such brilliant technology that we use primarily to hunt and to kill.

Save

How to ensure you NEVER get my number

This is my good deed for the day, I figure putting an easy-to-read analysis of all this mutual frustration and misunderstanding out into the universe might, just possibly might, help some of the poor men out there. And ease my mind. All the below holds true no matter what part of the city I might be in. I admit that these tricks for causing immediate anger and annoyance might not be true for all women. Indeed, I have a very lowering feeling that some of this shit must actually have worked on some woman somewhere or it could not be as prevalent as it is, or is it simply that men’s hope and hopelessness springs eternal? But some of the lines…bloody hell, I can’t imagine them ever having any effect…who has turned around and replied waiting for you, when asked where she has been all his life? But I shall save silly lines for another blog, besides, they don’t bother me nearly as much, and often make me smile though they never work. At any rate, I know what I’d like to stop, and so please, cease and desist all of the below activities:

  • Continuing to ask me for my number after I’ve politely declined to give it to you.
  • Calling me a liar if I tell you I am married when you keep harassing me for said number. Suggesting I call you. Suggesting that your sister call me for you, so my husband will never know. If I lie about being married it’s to spare you the pain of rejection, but never fear, push me and I will tell you exactly what I think of you.
  • Telling me, once I have refused to give you my number, that you are married and your wife is almost due. That’s enough to depress me for days.
  • Bringing up the word or concept of polyamory. It may work for some but certainly not for me.
  • Staring at me makes me both nervous and angry. Don’t do it please.
  • Honking your horn is never effective. Nor is whistling, yelling hey lady, clicking your tongue, ch-ch’ing, or calling me baby. Perhaps it works on some, but other languages do nothing for me. Yes, I am bilingual and yes Spanish is better for those who are in love, but cuando me dices jueda, chulada de mujer o guapa y sigues con exactamente lo que me quieres hacer, te arriesges una chanclatada. In fact, I would really prefer you kept all of your amorous ideas entirely to yourself. And looking me up and down and saying you need you a taste of that white chocolate will not work at all either. Comparing me to food is far too common and has never been an effective way to win my heart, and offering me any amount of drugs has never worked either.
  • Continuing to talk to me if I do not take my headphones off after you try to start up conversation…it is because I really do not want to talk to you.
  • Continuing to talk to me if I keep reading my book after you try to start up conversation…again, it is because I really do not want to talk to you
  • Following me slowly down the street trying to open your door, or yelling out your window to talk me into getting into your car for a ride.
  • NEVER wave money at me, it really makes me angry. To the last one of you that almost went for it: Audrey Hepburn never slept with men for money and nor do I, though that’s where our resemblance ends. So don’t lie either.

And finally, and most importantly! If I pass you on my bike while you are on yours, and I continue to speed up while you try to talk to me, again, it is because I don’t want to talk to you while enjoying the freedom and motion and joy of the bike ride to work. If I run a virtually red light, it is because I’d rather take a risk of being hit by a car than be bothered with you. To catch up to me and continue to ask me stupid questions will seriously get you nowhere, and simply ruin the rest of my day.

Cheers.