Badass mamas, toads eating icy cones, sexification, and the disconnect that connects us all-- visiting with Rafael Perez

In the past three years I've often tried to think about what makes or breaks an artist for me. Is it their ability, personality, message-- or is it something more? With my recent Brooklyn studio visit with Rafael Perez, I think I've finally figured it out. What stands him out from other artists is the way his works dig deeply into my very soul, bringing out long-forgotten childhood memories, and things I love, as well as fear.

When I first saw his animal watercolor series, I might have let out a squeal of delight. To me, there's nothing better or more entertaining than anthropomorphization. But these aren't hybrids or genetic experiments, as is the de rigouer, but instead, they're playing dress-up as characters-- kind of like people in your everyday lives. This series brought back memories of when I was little at my dresser, putting on the clip-on earrings of my greatgrandmother, and holding my well-worn copy of "The Wind in the Willows," or "The Animals of Farthing Wood."

In Perez's case, his inspiration came from a love of the "Frog and Toad" series-- books I had unfortunately been unfamiliar with until now. Nothing makes me more thrilled than when I'm looking at Perez's portly toad licking away at his icy cone, in full-on '80s hued wifebeater (minus pants). And of course we ALL know animals never need to wear pants, right? Take a look at Kermit-- he was naked all the time, except for that collar. Here, Mr. Toad looks like he's watched one too many Jane Fonda workout videotapes, and decided to cheat while no one was looking.

Mr. Chameleon totally killed me as well. Could anything be more appropriate in comparison than the cranky old guy at the assisted living center asking for his third helping of Salisbury steak of the day-- (the nurses told him he could only have two). Being human has its perks sometimes-- in the fact that we can imagine what the creatures of our world would be like if given human attributes. But in the case of Perez's creatures, they hold on to their animal instincts a bit more. On top of it all, if you don't find this off the cute-o-meter chart, then you're just a plain ol' meanie.

Perez honed his skills at the Graduate School of Figurative Art in New York City, at the New York Academy. The school is well known for the rigorous technical ability of its graduates, as well as its emphasis on anatomy of the figure, but sometimes it's also known for the stuffiness it places on its students, almost enveloping them with a fear of taking risks. Perez has left that completely behind, and brings a dark humor into his works, as well as appreciation of the body that can sometimes border on quiet observation of the female form, or the blatantly sexual.

In his new collaboration with artist Amanda Barr, you should probably shield the eyes of the young, because it's about as in your face as possible. Here Perez completes the watercolor landscapes, and Barr the cartoony figures in the foreground. Breasts appear as dripping ice cream cones, penises and crotches sit at ready, all while people frolick in their garden of earthly delights. It's a nice analysis of sexual debauchery, as well as delicious humor kept throughout. The beauty of this work is in the freedom it allots itself to throw caution to the wind and celebrate the joy of flesh and human circumstance.

Perez is also known for his Dangerous Women series, with last summer's similarly named group show at DFN Gallery I reviewed on ArtCat. Hot mamas with hunting rifles and flack jackets congregate, standing tall and aloof, awaiting their kill. Long before Sarah Palin came to the forefront, Perez had already begun this series of works. But throughout the series there's a sense of disconnect or vagueness to the eyes of the women. They look fairly disinterested, as if they have bigger fish to fry, but at the same time are desiring someone to come in and rescue them as well. Of course these ladies are the same types who'd eat you alive if you chose to do so, so I'll just leave it as that. They're nice to look at, but you might not necessarilly want to know them on too intimate a level.

Finally, Perez is now collaborating with the poet Sierra Nelson on a series of illustrations for an upcoming project. I'm especially fond of the work Merboy, which seems to convey to the viewer its isolation, and freakishness-- struggling to come to terms with his being an outcast, but hopeful nonetheless for what may come his way. I'll leave you with Ms. Nelson's words.

Your Affinity is with a Blind Beggar with Mismated Feet

Come dine with me now, baby merman –
Hail from your dusty dive and drink
Deep with thine eyes our desolate sea.
Sideshow specimen chained to the ceiling,
Stop overseeing this tawdry human fate –
You were born for more than fortunes for a quarter.
Bone grin, dry scale, no you can’t have pearl eyes –
Yes, she’s forgotten you, laughs one-eyed Jolly Jack.

Tremble in cobwebs, Ye Olde Curiousitie,
Above the 10 cents (U.S. Coins Only)
Girl in a Bathtub Peepshow Girl Méchanique.
They hauled you in half-afraid, half-strangled,
Mermonster gasping at the bottom of the boat.
There was a high soft wail before the gurgle and pained grin.
Now your dry tears make a lucky souvenir.
Yes, she’s forgotten you, laughs one-eyed Jolly Jack.

Musings update

(Above, Rafael Perez gets him some morning Joe. Mr. Budgie, you make me feel better already!)

Since all the other bloggers are talking about their lack of posts, so will I. Yes, I've been sick this past week as well, and taking care of things I really need to take care of, including something to do with SVA and getting ahead in life by no longer writing reviews for free. So rather than hold a fundraiser to ask for your hard earned cash and start flame wars like some of the other blogs have done, I'm just going to get my stuff together on that end and still write here on the Musings more SELECTIVELY when I feel the need.

In the meantime, posts to come...

1. Spotlight on Rafael Perez-- SO worth getting to know. Get ready for some seriously cool stuff. Cute animals and plenty of nekkid chicks, oh, my!

2. The something nothingness of Henning Bohl (heeelp, I'm peeeeeeling away) at Casey Kaplan.

3. Studio visit with Mia "RockMyWorld" Pearlman.

Muse away, my pretties.

Xoly

When you've changed, but the artist has stayed the same

Having spent ten years of my life in Boston-- the last six of which I regularly attended the Fort Point Channel Artist Open Studios-- it was deja vu when I noticed Virgil de Voldaire is currently showing one of my all-time Beantown favorites, David Palmer. But this story unfortunately does not have a happy ending.

Palmer is an artist best described as being at the top of his game for that time and place (the late-'90s, Fort Point being the new "it" artist loft neighborhood in transition.) He would gesso giant canvases soft as silk, with a ground so smooth you'd think they were touched by gods instead of human hands. The key to Palmer's work is a giant swoosh of blue paint made from a single brushstroke. To some they may appear to be the perfect wave, but to me they're more likely akin to the abstracted biomorphics of Carroll Dunham.

So how has Palmer changed in the past decade? Unfortunately, not much, if at all. Sure you can take the "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" attitude, but this time, I'm woefully disappointed. Palmer's 27-inch brush must be losing its bristles faster than Trump's hairpiece right about now.

Now I'm all for artists finding a niche, achieving financial freedom, as well as establishing a dedicated collector base. But when there's no risks whatsoever taken for over a decade, I sadly must say, "Keep chasing that wave, Dave. Keep chasing that wave."

Palmer's solo exhibition runs through May 16th. If you've never seen the artist's work before, I encourage you to check it out. If you are familiar with it, skip it.

Artist of the day - Mia Pearlman

(above, Whorl, 2008, paper, india ink, monofilament, 24 x 36 x 8)

It's been a while since I did the Musings' Artist of the Day feature, but given the continued gloom and cold we've been entrenched in here in the Northeast, I've been thinking fondly of the work of Mia Pearlman. Pearlman is like the kid you always envied in elementary school-- you know the one who'd be able to make the most intricate paper snowflakes ever that put your little concentric diamonds and hearts to shame. Pearlman's complex paper vortices spin voraciously, appearing to engulf their viewer all while showcasing their fragile structure. An artist to keep your eye on in 2009. This author hopes to one day curate a show with Pearlman, Michelle Manley, Christopher Saunders and Michael Paul Miller and title it End of the World Road.

Now that I've seen it in person, Koh's work is best part of the Boone show

Last week ArtCat published my one-on-one email interview with Terence Koh. In it, Koh was his ever-loquacious self, but there was something different about him. Perhaps it's the new era in which we now find ourselves, but Koh came across as humbled, and perhaps a bit fearful of what may come next. With the inclusion of his 21-foot long urinal in the KKK (Kelley, Koh and Koons) show curated by Javier Peres at Mary Boone, he might just be the first successful Humpty Dumpty of the art world. He can take a heavy beating, cracks showing on the surface, but then put himself back together in a stronger new formation.

I love the feeling of reinvention, and strength shown here. Koh's answers to many of my questions showed a vulnerability I certainly did not expect and am quite grateful for. But truthfully, in terms of art with meaning, Koh is doing a great job in this show compared to the more whimsical objects de arte of Koons and Kelley. Of course there will be R. Mutt comparisons, but I don't necessarily see that. Dig deeper and what you'll find is a replica of an upscale Chelsea nightclub bathroom fixture, exposing its damaged goods for all to see, much like its many patrons. The pristine white surface shatters before us with every crevice in spider-vein-like detail. The fissures seem to be more a commentary on what we take with us-- experience-- each crack symbolizing a piece of us gradually wearing away.

Kelley and Koons, on the other hand, seem to be channeling Paul McCarthy's butt plugs and 1950s kitsch more than anything with their new works. As always, Koons works with the hyper shine of stainless steel-- this time serving as the bartender friend in the corner making us the best mojito your money can buy, if Frisch's Big Boy was your waiter.




Kelley, below, conjures up images of the Ice Queen's castle in Narnia, or far more likely the offerings of a Lower East Side sex shop. The show runs through May 16th at Boone. It's definitely worth checking out.

Experimenting with the cam

A blogger's camera is their lifeline. And it's funny that every single one of us seems to have the Canon Powershot Digital Elph in many different editions. So enjoy my forray into vlogging.

Without further ado, here's Tony Oursler at Metro Pictures and Celeste Boursier-Mougenot at Paula Cooper Gallery.

PA-POW! with Rosemarie Fiore

Rosemarie Fiore really needs to be an artist at P.P.O.W. Gallery. Now why would I suggest her amazing Pyrotechnics: Firework Drawings exhibition be held at P.P.O.W. instead of Priska Juschka? Well, because this blogger eternally pronounces P.P.O.W. as "PA-POW!" No, really. I do. And what better exhibition to ever be held at PA-POW!! than this. But unfortunately, that monaker stands for the names of the owners as abbreviations. So instead, the equally hard to pronounce Priska Juschka has a real firecracker on their hands here. (Yeah, I so totally just went there.)



Fiore's luxurious saturations are brilliant in color, form, and design-- letting the residue of the 'works bleed into their paper's surfaces. It's basically similar to the method used by Cai Guo Qiang, if he actually appreciated the use of non-sepia toned color in art. Fiore has it all over him and other explosive-based artists in that she has a true appreciation of the emotions that color can convey to a viewer, as well as continuously highlights the intricate patterns made by chance, when born by fuel and fuse.



Just make sure if you go to the opening tomorrow night to leave your matches and lighters at the door. We don't want the fire department to shut this one down. The show runs through May 16th.