I was gonna title a post “Painting” or “Paintinc” comprised exclusively of paint-oriented photos in my phone.
James Turrell art installation at SF’s DeYoung Museum, Terry and I checked out the other day.
This actually belongs in a previous post about Steve Cohen and I at Stanford – Utah hoops tilt.
Another view of Turrell
Although the differences are subtle, I actually took and now posted three versions of Turrell (and isn’t that the quintessence of all this?)
This is my computer, my cappuccino and Modest Mouse “The Lonesome Crowded West” Up Records, up44, 1997, which I am reviewing
Flipping thru a cache or cachet of Arizona Highways mags I bought from a retired rocket scientist in Menlo Park, I noticed this reference to Ben Quintana a Pueblo Painter who died quite young in World War II, in Europe
This belongs anywhere but here as Mona Simpson might say but here is Flat Stanley, from Springfield, IL, dressed as Abe Lincoln, with Palo Alto Mayor Nancy Shepherd
27 University elicits controversy about development, most of which ignores its historic status and these landmarks I spied the other day (details)
27unimon
should have insured the planet before it crashed working real hard to make internet cash work your fingers to the bone sitting on your ass I know now what I knew then but I didn’t know then what I know now Isaac Brock, Jeremiah Green and Eric Judy, 1997, rather prophetic and timeless. Plus check out the Polaroids dated 4-5-97, mostly by Isaac I rescued this disc from the burn pile of about 1,000 of its brethren and cistern, not to mention the cassettes that suffered even worser fate. Or as Kurt Vonnegut might say, if you are talking about a rather smelly cheese, what else could you do to it that hasn’t already been done (I am re-reading my autographed copy of “Hocus Pocus” from 1990). Please excuse my hocus pocus (which the f-word-obscene-gerund computer wants to change to “locus”). edit to add, a couple hours later;
detail of the WPA mural at the beach chalet at golden gate park, which is also a brewery
more details from the mural at Beach Chalet, I think his name is Laboudt or something and this is supposed to be his wife, playing the guitar; Lucien Laboudt, 1937.
something with David Hockney, show at De Young, recently
Palo Alto Public Art Commission enhancement of utility boxes, downtown PA, shot after seeing a preview of upcoming movie about Hadron collider
grand old flag, at 27 University, Palo Alto, where I counted 7 historic markers
Is Menlo Park’s Guild the only place in God’s Green Earth where one might, even for a separate admission, see Philomena back to back with Rocky Horror Picture Show — which gave me idea about a film about a lady who travels to America to adopt the clone of her first love., talk about miraculous concepts.
One of my favorite Gerhard Richters, Strontium, at De Young, in lobby (detail)
Richard Serra, corten steal maze, on loan to Stanford, close up, detail
Playing with my food, the ramen at Palo Alto Dohatsuten, on San Antonio near Charleston
edit to add: would be remiss not to mention fiddle work by Tyler Reilly on this track. Christgau says “A-“. Forgive me father for I have sinned (in appropriating this rather long quotation from his site, which I found via the wikipedia entry): With unadorned melody suddenly fashionable among superannuated indie-rockers who have seen the limits of both irony and techno, I still prefer my tunelets noised up. And until these become the exclusive province of undistinguisheds and indistinguishables like, oh, Versus or Polvo, I’ll crow about every exception. Skirting the professional class they were born to for a poverty that’s real if voluntary, these three youngsters are probably wise-asses, probably thieves. But their songs never quit even when they’re divided into the kind of stylistic segments that usually irritate the hell out of me. Although their glimpses of a cockroach world living on its own discards may seem jejune to some and homely to others, the lyrics are observed, informed, and explicit enough–in fact, as brave and beautiful as the blues, albeit at a more rarefied level of cultural specificity. A-
Plastic Alto with Mark Weiss 