Saturday Ann & I finally made it to PS1’s Greater New York Show. And, yes, it is as fantastic as everyone says it is. HOWEVER, I would like to use this space to publically refute the claims of two individuals — namely Denise Stockman and Dr. Jurgen Fauth who both (independently) claimed that it was impossible to “do the whole show” in one day. I say, “Pah!”
We got there early, saw half, split for lunch, then came back.
PS1 is very dogmatic about taking photos, so I have very few. (Ah, the changes at PS1!!!! Like so much in life, it isn’t black and white. Sure, I’m miffed by shills from Nokia and Target handing out promotional junk — but then again, PS1 has air conditioning now!!!!!)
The Greater New York Show has miles and miles of fantastic art. (And some pieces which blow, too, I’ll be fair.) Of the 160 artists whose work was on display, the work that really blew me away (should they be googling themselves) was by:
I only called BULLSHIT! three times during this massive exhibit. This was in the presence of the pretentious, offensive, lazy “work” of:
After the art, we were bombarded by MTV Beach Party.
I was particularly tickled by the Moby-esque man in black.
. . . .Later that night we heard music from outside. Just a half block away was the San Rocco, um, “Festival.” This consisted of a plastic Jesus with Indian restaurant lights on it, a bunch of fold-out lunch tables with old people drinking coffee and listening to a man sing Andrea Bocelli arias on a karaoke machine. When the raffle numbers were called out, none of the winners were there. (Timmy S!?! Where’s Timmy S., for his hundret dollahs?) Oddly, there were six cops in uniform hanging out “keeping the peace.”
After this, we ducked into the Irish Rover to hear the cover band. They did the best bar band version of “The Boys of Summer” you are likely to hear.