Archive for June, 2009

Exit Another King

June 27, 2009

So with the tragic end of the emblematic figure Michael Jackson it brings back the summer of so long ago the Orwellian year which came to pass 1984 and the Jacksons’ “Victory Tour”.  That year I was off for the summer from attending  college and driving a suburban taxicab and my father who had been the fourth fastest mile in the Bronx had decided to take me to the Olympics in L.A (which turned out to be the fluorescent LA olympics orchestrated by Peter Uberoth par excellance).

The night before it was time to leave was one of the stops on the Victory tour at Giants’ Stadium (coming down now after a final Bruce Springsteen repirise at the end of this summer).  I remember the fireworks,  the wristband, the seat being on the field, acting like I was jet -set because I was going to the Olympics in the morning, but,  mostly,  I remember Michael crying on cue for “She’s Out of My Life” (thats what I remember it was so long ago).

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(Michael Jackson Memorialized on the Marquee of the Apollo)

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Exit- Exit the King

June 27, 2009

Since the time that Prince Harry played polo on Govenors’Island I have been working much trying to take advantage of the busy summer season on the double decker buses.  In the meantime I saw the last of the four plays (excepting the revival of Noel Cowards’ Blithe Spirits with Rupert Everett, Angela Lansbury, and Christine Ebrsol) with the marquee names which I wished to view on Broadway this season before they closed.  The last in the quartet being the redo of Eugene Ionesco’s tragic farce “Exit the King” starring Geoffrey Rush and Susan Sarandon which has been stated to have been restaged at the end of the eight years of the Second Bush to have become President (s’) presidency.

Again I went with Steven Irolla (who so kindly waited on line at the tkts booth and was duly rewarded with a beer at the Pig & Whistle pub before the performance).  Indeed it was a heavy work despite the light touches being about Ionesco’s main character Berrenger’s last hours on Earth as a timed departure (an aspect that Sarandon as the old wife played up ) amidst his verdant loss of sensation and his feeling of place  in time and importance.

Rush was a foppish majesty really letting go for character.   The prodction suited him most kindly almost as per himself as a co-producer.  The play brought up strong feelings for this writer particulary when the author asks through the titular character who will be there for you when you crossover (to paraphrase) and this resounded as I was not with my own father when he went.

After the performance we went to a new restaurant/bar on 47th street across from the theater Glass House and I threw no stones.  The King has Exited long live “Exit the King” !

Prince Harry Plays Polo

June 11, 2009

prince harrySo For the first time while temporarily loosing hold of the temporality of this blog, this person, was heading down to Washington DC to see the works of the still life legend  Luis Melendez from the deep vortex of Imperial Spain when he decided to turn around for a double Gemini pre birthday meditation circle.  Meanwhile having to celebrate a birthday and seeing that Prince Harry would be playing Polo on Governor’s Island and that there were still tickets available he called the number from the internet from his car.  Yes the tickets were five hundred dollars for a pair but the proceeds would be going to charity and in being part of the moment he swept them up.

This gave this now Polo match goer ample time to organize a wardrobe and ruminate over presentation strategy as well as to organize the day.  So he chose a blue blazer, turquoise English broadcloth shirt, orange silk Gucci tie (same as worn to the opening of the pictures generation at the Metropolitan Museum of Art), riding pants bought on the Piazza  di Palio in Sienna, and long sleek black cole- Haan shoes for this outing with the suddenly garden fresh New York Polo set.  First it was to take the subway (oh my) to lower Manhattan to make our way to the Govenor’s Island ferry which turned out to  be the wrong one though the polo ponies were being trucked in the make the crossing and so we being of ample body walked all the way over to Battery Park City where everything was in order and we received our envelopes (birthday boy Neil and I) for lunch on the lawn.   Oh the day was  golden(…golden years golden years don’t let me here you say life is taking you nowhere angel angel….. the nights are warm and the days are young” and I beg your apology to David) everyone was bedecked.  Upon arriving upon the island there was a line after disembarking to be trollied to the polo grounds and while aboard I gave tours to an out of towner from Chicago who was also attending his first polo match as was I )shhh don’t tell anyone).

Once there we had to run the gauntlet past the attending press but were not asked to stop by the media including the correspondent from the hopeless www.page6.com .  Upon making our way around the super boxes of the super people we got to the lawn area where golden chaise lounges were around while you had to wait on line to pick up your veuve cliquot picnic blanket in the veuve cliquot carrying case while getting your first glass of the champagne and all the goodies to eat such as smoked salmon sandwiches (and so it turned out to be well-chosen that this match goer wore a cravat of orange for golden orange was the color of the day as were all the pennants for the champagne house so colored as well as the neckwear of the assembled staff).  Suddenly I looked across the lawn and saw a hub bub and it was the Red Headed Windsor Prince being photographed suddenly he walked to where I was standing and stopped and it was to talk to a mate. It was only the three of us but I called over to Neil who did not approach but I waited for Harry to finish his conversation then said Hi, Harry he did not respond and then the entourage left.

This was all before the actual start of the match where the first polo ball or orb shall we saw as laid down onto the field or rolled by the first lady of the state of New York Mrs. David Patterson ( and though the Governor  himself was at Harry’s side at earlier events he was not at the polo match).   Competition ensued and I kept going to the organizers tent to charge my I-Phone  while catching flutes of champagne on the fly in the golden sunshine.  The game was fast  paced and the announcers kept talking also about the Sentebale foundation which is the charity founded by Harry and the prince of Lesotho in honor of their late mothers to help the aids stricken children of this small homeland within South Africa ( to find out more and donate funds please go herehttp://www.sentebale.org/home/index.html)

Meanwhile ,I followed the game loosely though at one point the ball which was soft for this event flew at me and I threw it back onto the field striking the side of the hindquarters of Nacho Figueras the Argentinian polo player and the face of Ralph Lauren fragrances’ mount.   The play wound on and eventually in a finally score removing the tie and allowing Prince Harry’s team to win the third in the line to the throne assisted in the goal.

Then there was the prerequisite ceremony where the crowd gathered around the stand where the players were to be awarded a the trophies and all of a sudden a hub-bub ensued and I asked who it was and a lady said “Madonna”. At first I could not see her and strained but then there she was under a hat with the Malawian boy David Badu in her grasp hugging her like she was the mother tree she is and next to her was son Rocco  (by the movie director Guy Ritchie) and looking for Jesus Luz (the twenty three year old model, then current boyfriend, and kabbalist ) and then there he was in a baseball hat off from the main picture and standing with two guys who were obviously boyfriend’s who I did not recognize (but on later internet reconnaissance found out that it was Marc Jacobs and his then current steady Lorenzo Martone) .  Soon after the ceremony was over (which Neil walked away from because the dizzy tizzy over the Madonna tableaux had made him sick of the scene) I ran into Demetria Daniels of www.gothamgossip.com and had more flutes of Veuve cliquot and had a shot taken by Ms. Daniels with a polo player which I still have not received.  Ms. Daniels then informed me that she would be training as a double decker bus tour guide at City Sites (the Nyc blue bus) and indeed just a couple of days later I spotted her on a parallel vehicle to mine and introduced her to both buses.

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So Back to Zwack

June 11, 2009
Artists Michael McClard, Marcia Resnick, Anton Perich, and Michael Zwack at Bobby Grossman opening

Artists Michael McClard, Marcia Resnick, Anton Perich, and Michael Zwack at Bobby Grossman opening

So Zwack is back so back to Zwack.  Completing my voyage southward rather than to the middle east during mid life left this blogger and bus rider to return to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to investigate the work in the “The Pictures Generation” more closely than during the opening. There I met fellow tour guide Zwack but spent much of the time listening to the audio guide organized by curator Douglas Eklund.  Though familiar with some of the artists there were many of them with whom I was not.

It is a dense exhibit if not only object wise but reason it is  the way it is  wise. It was definitely elucidating in seeing the way Mr. Salle evolved coming out of Cal Arts and what was his and what can be seen as having merged by him  in and with James Rosenquist.   The umbrella shading these artists from the sun can only be extended so wide as to make room to include everybody in  a moment or movement   This exhibiton’s premise that it was other images which than being so pervasive led artists or imagists to make images based on images or otherwise pop will eat itself.

The thing which I like about Michaels’ work was that it was not striving for any cliche sure it could be an album cover for the anthology of anthems of rock is dead or long live the death of everything but it is earnest.  The sculpture of his included here of toy solidiers encased in small blocks of cement predates Arman’s mummification of Cars in Beirut , Lebanon by several years .

Becasue of this exhibit though I know more about Cindy Sherman, Robert Longo, Jack Goldstein, and others.  However, I must say that the Louise Lawler, Sheree Levine , and  sometimes Richard Prince school of the joke is on you art amuses this person seldom anymore -it is  tired, it is not nice it is self aggrandizing and in the end while it may make for nice design it is boring.