Gism Butter

V and I came up with a name for the art scene folk in Oakland.  For those not in the know (As I so often say) there is an underground art movement in Oakland, centered around 23rd and Telegraph. There are a couple of galleries in this area, like 21 Grand, Rock Paper Scissors, Esteban Sabar and the one that really sparked the scene, Mama Buzz.

This movement is also marked by a distinct favoratism for reuse and recycled materials. The art in garbage, as it were.  There’s a certain type of person that moves in this circle, that revels in it, as the Emo revels in his or her gloom, or the punk revels in his or her anarchy.

The only thing the movement needs is a catchy name, like Yuppies, or Hippies or Tree Huggers or some such.

And I propose: Buzzards.

An apt title, as they consume and reuse the leftovers of a massively over-stimulated populous. The Yerba Buena did an exhibit of Oakland artists, and it was almost all made from things found in the street. What wasn’t, looked a bit like childrens’ art,

mama Buzz really is the center of this movement, despite the numerous amazing outfits and groups that are a part of the Oakland Art Murmur.

When all is said and done, Mama Buzz is the only place these hip Buzzards can sit and hang out. They create at Rock Paper Scissors. They sip and surf at Mama Buzz.

Thanks to katerw for the image above. I have some shots of Buzzards too, but this was better than mine.

Martin Webb is a British artist, and a charming fellow, who’s lived in the US off and on for the last 5 years. He’s worked in a  number of mediums, and has even taught art before. But he recently got a day job spreading concrete patios and flooring. He took a liking to the material.

last night, we saw his new show at Esteban Sabar gallery in Oakland at Telegraph and 23rd. It’s striking stuff, though understated. You really have to see the works in person to appreciate them. it’s all about texture. Head over to Esteban’s and take a gander before the end of the month.

A trip to the SF Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA) this past Friday gave me a chance to finally enter that big freezer installation they put in a few months back. The top floor is dedicated to Olafur Eliasson’s work with space, light, and geometric forms. I find his work can typically be described by my favorite adjectives: simple and deep. A particular favorite of mine was the room where the elevators emptied into the top floor, and a half dozen sickly orange flourescent lights had been installed. The effect was overwhelming and striking: everything came out orange, and the light dried up your eyes.

But the refrigerated piece on the second floor is what sent V, myself and her brother Q reeling with philosophical discussion. In the end, I had to agree that it was, in fact, art. But I still feel somewhat polluted by the piece.

Said piece is “Your Mobile Expectations” and the whole overblown sheebang was sponsored by BMW. Now, traditionally, art does not have to offer function. Art is something new, something expressive, something never before done or seen. By those definitions, Your Mobile Expectations is certainly art.

But I feel that the piece is bad art. Very bad art. I don’t see anything in it that holds merit. Eliasson is an accomplished artist, no doubt, but the ice sculpture shown at the SF MOMA does nothing for me. I wouldn’t have liked it much if I hadn’t read all the stuff written on the walls outside the freezer. But after I read all of that, I downright hated the piece.

It all began when BMW gave Eliasson the chasis for one of its hydrogen powered super cars. Eliasson was asked to make art out of it. So he made a serated half-football, and covered it in icicles. In effect, it’s a big fat BMW ad. I understand Eliasson has to make a living, and that his ice art isn’t easy to work with, display or create outside of his native Iceland.

But the SF MOMA owes use a better piece of ice art. Eliasson’s cost are considerable for materials and the facilities for display, but to offset them with the BMW cash, for me, removes all the artistic value for the piece. Constraints on art are like standards for feces.

Especially if those constraints are around a product or a brand. Warhol’s soup cans would have had no meaning beyond advertising if the Campbell’s people had commissioned the works. Two galleries over, there is a Dali sculpture built around a red shoe. I’d have poo-poo’ed it if Dali’d been paid to make it. Likewise, the advertisements Dali did make are certainly wonderful to look at and wild to watch, but I think they’re some of his worst work, from a quality standpoint.

Last night at the Oakland Art Murmur, we saw the work of Arthur Huang at Mercury 20. I haven’t met Arthur yet, but he obviously suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder. On display were his daily tabulation of what he’s eaten, laid out in a periodic-table-like chart with a coded date and food types.

This fellow also set up every coffee cup he’d used in 2004, with notes on each about that day. Mostly Peet’s. The Mercury 20 Gallery at 25 Grand was a relative latecomer to the Murmur, but then, at its present size, it’s no longer a newbie. I believe it is so called because it is a collective of 20 artists who show their stuff in turns each month. Arthur is certainly the most… dedicated, I would say. Intriguing, all around.

EDIT: Turns out, the coffee cups weren’t from Huang. However, I maintain my assessment of his obsessive tendencies. Difference is, Mary, the other artist, also exhibits this trait! Certainly something new in art, I must say.