January Artists are paying rent late. Institutions deliver immersive experiences.
I took my daughter to a pop-up experience titled Bubble Planet. It offered a toddler-friendly riff on Kusama’s matrix room. I nearly suffocated in the ball pit. A few blocks down, at the real museum, I found myself immersed in an oversized kitchen cabinet.
My daughter received a 12 megapixel camera with a 2 inch LCD screen from Santa. She snapped pics of the exhibition (oversized cookware, strangers, a few double chins). It takes better pictures than my iPhone 14. My phone feeds me nightstands. They follow me site to site. I sleep with it under my pillow.
Before sleep, I’ve taken to reading in the dark with a clip-on red light. Lately, I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole of theological philosophy. I’ve been reading thirteenth-century monks holed up in caves, debating the merits of noetic perception. It’s led me to believe that the secular world recognizes art exceptionally well, but struggles to define an artist.
I have a full-time job now. I pay my bills on time.
February After some adjustment I’ve gotten back into a routine, jogging on weekends, painting in the evenings. I sometimes mix colors during the day and adjust them somewhat blindly by lamplight at night.
March The Post Fair in Santa Monica was a delight.
April A quick trip to the Sonoma coast and an outline for a series of paintings.
May Finished painting, Rancho District 16x20, sold. Work trip to NYC. AI doomerism- all other fears aside, the future appears to be Microsoft Excel. The unholy trinity of the Los Angeles mayoral race. The city feels distracted, it could use some Finish Fetish. Previously established routines have been abandoned.
June King tides. Hockney passes. My phone stays in the studio. An alarm clock on my new nightstand plays ocean waves for two hours while I fall asleep.
Upcoming I’m working on putting together a small free art print edition for subscribers. I’ll be sending out a newsletter next month to gather contacts, keep an eye out and tell your friends to subscribe.
I realize my newsletters have become few and far between lately, but I haven’t felt the need to send one simply for the sake of it.
As always, I’m open to conversation, so please feel free to get in touch at any time. And thank you for continuing to read along.
HC—10
State of the Arts, Los Angeles
January
Artists are paying rent late. Institutions deliver immersive experiences.
I took my daughter to a pop-up experience titled Bubble Planet. It offered a toddler-friendly riff on Kusama’s matrix room. I nearly suffocated in the ball pit. A few blocks down, at the real museum, I found myself immersed in an oversized kitchen cabinet.
My daughter received a 12 megapixel camera with a 2 inch LCD screen from Santa. She snapped pics of the exhibition (oversized cookware, strangers, a few double chins). It takes better pictures than my iPhone 14. My phone feeds me nightstands. They follow me site to site. I sleep with it under my pillow.
Before sleep, I’ve taken to reading in the dark with a clip-on red light. Lately, I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole of theological philosophy. I’ve been reading thirteenth-century monks holed up in caves, debating the merits of noetic perception. It’s led me to believe that the secular world recognizes art exceptionally well, but struggles to define an artist.
I have a full-time job now. I pay my bills on time.
February
After some adjustment I’ve gotten back into a routine, jogging on weekends, painting in the evenings. I sometimes mix colors during the day and adjust them somewhat blindly by lamplight at night.
March
The Post Fair in Santa Monica was a delight.
April
A quick trip to the Sonoma coast and an outline for a series of paintings.
May
Finished painting, Rancho District 16x20, sold.
Work trip to NYC.
AI doomerism- all other fears aside, the future appears to be Microsoft Excel.
The unholy trinity of the Los Angeles mayoral race.
The city feels distracted, it could use some Finish Fetish.
Previously established routines have been abandoned.
June
King tides.
Hockney passes.
My phone stays in the studio. An alarm clock on my new nightstand plays ocean waves for two hours while I fall asleep.
Upcoming
I’m working on putting together a small free art print edition for subscribers. I’ll be sending out a newsletter next month to gather contacts, keep an eye out and tell your friends to subscribe.
I realize my newsletters have become few and far between lately, but I haven’t felt the need to send one simply for the sake of it.
As always, I’m open to conversation, so please feel free to get in touch at any time. And thank you for continuing to read along.
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