Anonymous Gallery hosted a live painting brunch with seminal New York “street artist” ( I feel weird using today’s definition of that term here) Kenny Scharf on Saturday, as he prepared the walls for Wednesday’s opening of “In Dialogue”, which is guest curated by Peter Makebish.I love seeing Kenny Scharf pieces around town, although they are few and far between. They feel like part of a time capsule from the Lower East Side of the 80s when he ran around painting the streets with Keith Haring and showed with the likes of the infamous Fun Gallery and Tony Shafrazi. Ever influenced by television and cartoons, Scharf has always tried to test the line between high and low art with his spacey cartoon characters, which seems more playful and poppy than younger street artists today.
IN DIALOGUE – Four Generations of Painting
APRIL 14 – MAY 23
OPENING RECEPTION: APRIL 14 6-9PM
Curated by Peter Makebish
Donald Baechler . Ross Bleckner . Kadar Brock
Brendan Cass . Sante D’Orazio . Matt Jones . John Newsom
Hermann Nitsch . Bill Saylor . Kenny Scharf . Ouattara Watts . Dustin Yellin
For more info you may proceed to – http://anonymousgallery.com/art/
Brian Ormond debuts his first independent art show at Collective Hardware’s gallery space.
Dates: Thursday 4th February – Saturday 20th February inclusive
Gallery opened daily : mon – sun : 12 noon – 6pm
(broome & delancey streets)
subway B/D at grand
Feel free to stop by and check it out!
(via Eater NY)
Last night marked the beginning of a new chapter in the Kurve/Rhong Tiam saga. Community Board 3 had no trouble greenlighting Andy Yang, owner of those two locations, for a full liquor license at 169 Bowery, the 3,000 square foot Collective Hardware space, as mentioned last month. 169 Bowery was once home to vaudeville house Miner’s Theater. After nearly burning down in 1922, the space turned into a Chinese theater and then eventually became Weiss’s hardware store. Now it’s Collective, a gallery space/designer boutique/hair salon/music venue/pop-up store, and according to its website, Rhong Tiam will be moving into the second floor…
As the 53rd Venice Biennale enters its last days and the world’s art community reflects, Anonymous Gallery, curator Spy Emerson and the artist Swoon provide a glimpse of what critic Jerry Saltz called “…The most moving moment I had at the Biennale…”
Pankabestia: Punk Beasts of the Swimming Cities of Serenissima, is a retrospective of artist Swoon’s “Swimming Cities of Serenissima”, the artist’s recent invasion of the Venice Biennale. Traveling from the Karst region of Slovenia to Venice, Italy, Swoon and more than 30 other artists braved the waters of the Adriatic Sea and navigated a fleet of three intricately hand crafted vessels. The exhibition, curated by Spy Emerson, opens on November 20, 2009 and will include large-scale wall drawings, original Swimming Cities boat installations, portions of the ships, found objects acquired from sea. The exhibition will also feature performers Moses and Spy, Tianna Kennedy and Adina Bier, beautiful photographic documentation from artist Tod Seelie, and original artwork from Swoon, Spy Emerson, Monica Canilao, plus many more.
Click image for more info.
The overpowering heat hits harder than a speeding cab. Hot and sweaty August days. Can’t move, think, eat, sleep, piss, or anything without sweating enough to hydrate a small country.
There’s something sexy about it. Beads of sweat dripping from necks, rolling between the shadows of breasts. Or down an Adam’s apple, streaming along the contours of a chiseled achest. Mmm. Lust clogs every pore these dog days.
Collective is oddly deserted. I crack open the blue lock and walk through Stu’s door, bee-lining for the fan. I drop my ten-pound bag and collapse into the chair. Staring out the window, I watch Mother Nature’s tears stain the streets. Bliss.
Nothing good ever lasts. My phone starts screaming. It’s Jen. “Truth is, I’m seeing a girl right now”, his text read. Fuck. Not again. The girl’s a hopeless romantic in a city where love and relationships are only “A Dream Deferred.”
Desirée vat to du tunyte?
Jen drowning my sorrows with a fuck load of alcohol. thats what im doing.
Yesterday at 8:30pm · Delete
I tell her to get her ass to Collective, where I’ve got a chilled bottle of cheap red begging us to polish off.
While waiting for her to cycle over, the sweet silence is once again broken by Stu storming through the door, ranting and bitching about god knows what. Then Ronnie (Cutrone) peers inside the office. He shakes his gawky head and takes his usual ten-minutes-too-long to look around for something or someone. Stu gets irritated. He likes the door shut.
“In or out Ronnie, in or out.”
“I need Desiree.”
The first time I met you, you kept saying my name. “Desiree. Desiree.” I feel awkward. Who the fuck is this old creep saying my name over and over. “You know, I always told myself that if I ever had a daughter, her name would be Desiree. I just love that name. Do you want to be my daughter? I can’t buy you anything but you can be my daughter.” Except the daughter rolling off your tongue rings “dawtah” to the ears.
Once upon the 70’s, Ronnie was Andy Warhol’s assistant. A Pop-Art veteran; All’s electrifying on the Factory front. It’s not a surprise Ronnie ended up here, a place that somewhat mirrors the Warhol era. The past and the present are blurred. Those who lived it and those living it.
Ronnie and I step walk to the other room where he’s making 3-D wallpaper inspired by cartoon characters. Pop-up Pop-art. There’s a duck and some neon eggs. Then, out of the blue, he asks me about the guy I brought last night, telling me what a handsome young thing he was.
“Yes, I know,” I say with a chuckle.
He asks if he’s my boyfriend.
“No, no, no, none of that. In the beginning, there was passion. But now…now it’s just nice to have company in this lonely city.”
“Make loneliness your friend. Otherwise, it’s a bad enemy to have.”
Flashbacks. The first time I see his devilish grin behind the bar. Wandering the dark streets of Chinatown as the sun creeps in: Mei Dick. A trail of clothes on the cold floor leading from the front door to the bedroom. Music flowing and breakfast burritos on lazy Sundays.
Yes, there was passion. At least I felt it. But over the last few months, I’ve learned a thing or two about this place. Living in New York is like taking little kid to the biggest candy store imaginable. With so many flavors, how can we pick just one?
“I’m forty years old and I’ve done it all. Fuck love. Love fades. Have romantic moments”, Stu argues while we walk through SoHo, talking about relationshits. They’re nonexistent. Maybe between the ordinary people with ordinary jobs, sitting in ordinary cubicles, eating ordinary sandwiches, like white bread with cheese, maybe a little mayo. Or mustard. I hate mustard.
Collective Hardware is the definitive re-entry point of the old New York style of underground art, culture and events. It is a place where our minds merge together to create the things we envision, feel, and hear. We have been a part of this cult since early march. Cult, a relatively small group of people having religious beliefs or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister. We have been referred to as a cult on numerous occasions. But from an insider’s point of view, we like to associate ourselves with the term family.
Keep updated with what’s going on at the Collective here!