http://issuu.com/levisworkshops/docs/v2/chopshop

Nowhere more do you see this phenomena embodied than in a city like New York, where for the past two centuries, with the constant influx of new people, it has become a powerful influencer worldwide in everything from the currency you spend to the clothing you wear.

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” It’s the statement emblazoned upon the statue that has greeted millions of ship-weary foreigners and the backdrop that has enabled those seeking a better life a way to it. Which isn’t to say every immigrant who reaches these shores has a better life, in fact for many it was and continues to be merely a stepping stone that requires a huge step back, before even attempting a move forward. Yet, it is this struggle that has colored the past two centuries and made what New York City is, but as we come to the close of the first decade of the 21st century, something has shifted. There’s an oddly mixed sentiment brewing, you’ll hear it in every corner in manhattan, you’ll see its head reared full-faced as landmark buildings and shops throughout the city give way to large developers whose buyers and tenants have equally large pockets.

Take one look down the Bowery, the oldest American thoroughfare and you’ll be overwhelmed with the changes. CBGBs, whose walls reverberated with the sounds of rock icons like the Talking Heads and Blondie is now a John Varvatos; the east side of the street lined with luxury hotels and high-rise condominiums, a far cry from the flop houses. Of course, it’s not exactly a bad alternative to the alcoholics and drug dealers that it displaced, but what exactly has replaced it?

I took a walking tour recently of the Bowery with Rob Hollander, an adjunct professor of linguistics at NYU and a New Yorker through and through. We talked about the Bowery and its history, he reminisced about the freedom that one used to feel; that while yes, you might have had to step over more than a few drunken bodies, but there was still a freedom, albeit a little reckless that drew people and artists like Mark Rothko, Roy Lichtenstein, James Rosenquist, and Eva Hesse to its dilapidated, light-filled lofts. It was an independence outside the mainstream that allowed the artist to, in the words of lady liberty “breathe free.” He’d go on to mourn the new developments, and denigrate the gentrification that seemed to suck the area dry of it’s colorful and more than a little messy historic culture. But at one point, it reminded me of an article in the NY Observer about No Longer Empty’s “Never Records” exhibit, that almost inadvertently grappled with an uneasiness with a nostalgia that was no longer a wafting warm and fuzzy memory but something more akin to a paralyzing rheumatism.

After empathizing with the lower east side’s developmental plight, I asked Rob what kind of development could he see that he would endorse…he paused, noted it was a good question and then responded with, “I hate to say it, but I don’t think there is any.” And yet, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it, it wasn’t a romanticized notion of how much better it would be if the homeless alcoholics and prostitutes were left to run the streets, but more a lament for what had gone up in its place and what the erection would inevitably trigger. Some could argue that every generation feels that longing for a time past…even Rothko in his Bowery studio felt it,

“One day while his one-man show was still on in New York, Rothko and James Brooks sat talking on the stairway in the building at 222 Bowery…Rothko “declared at length…the reason for his deep melancholy.” “His work had reached such an acceptance that it now inhabited the investment world as much as or more than the art world,” leaving Rothko “bereft of the only thing that meant anything–the love that many people had for his work. Now he no longer felt his work was admired for itself, but that it was a rising commodity quotation on the stock market.”[1]

But there is a single, very crucial difference to take note of between the 1960′s and 2010—the environment of creation. Art of any given period is not only a reflection of the men and women who created it, but inescapably a mirror of the times; for the Bowery artists of the 19th and 20th centuries, struggle and strife were rampant. It led to the creation of art from an almost empathic impetus.

Rothko writes in his essay “The Romantics were Prompted..”

“The unfriendliness of society to his activity is difficult for the artist to accept. Yet this very hostility can act as a lever for true liberation. Freed from a false sense of security and community, the artist can abandon his plastic bank-book, just as he has abandoned other forms of security. Both the sense of community and of security depend on the familiar. Free of them, transcendental experiences become possible. [2]

So when a designer men’s clothing store becomes a more viable platform for launching a music career than an actual music venue like CBGB’s what is the effect? It begs the question, what kind of culture is cultivated when nurtured not necessarily by a common human struggle but by brand generation and capitalism?

Hollander, bespoke of homogeneity and the loss of the individual. I think we all feel it, we comment about it at art shows and social events over complimentary glasses of wine and conveniently mourn the passing of New York’s historic gems..but we relish the cleaner streets and more often than not welcome the homogeneity if it comes with a reduced price tag. But if there is one thing that New York City has in abundance, it’s those in search of the struggle and that healthy hostility Rothko mentions. On the Bowery it may just be that the whiskey-breathed and homeless are being traded for the well suited and higher heeled.

References:

[1] Breslin, James E. B., 1935–Mark Rothko a biography, The University of Chicago Press, 1993

[2] Rothko, M., “The Romantics were Prompted…” Possibilities, New York, I, 1947, p. 84

It begins as a throwback, something of a mirage-like homage to music history. In the former spot of Tower Records is a small sign outside, a faux cd cover entitled “Never Can Say Goodbye” by No Longer Empty. It’s the introduction to Never Records, a record store that never was but is, replete with record bins, posters, flyers, merchandise for sale, even a cash register, with individually painted dollar bills and calling cards of artists swapped out for change. Each item, from cardboard box to employee of the month sculpture, recreated and repurposed with the theme of invoking the history of how music was represented in a time when record stores could turn a huge profit. Composed by Ted Riederer, Never Records (a befitting moniker), is in actuality a record of 40+ artists whose displayed work has never had anything to do with music recording prior to its inception for the show.

picture via psfk.com

The exhibit also showcases the works of Ryan Brennan, Joe Diebes, R. Luk DuBois, Richard Garet, Invader, Josh Jordan, Kaz Oshiro, Meredyth Sparks, Naama Tsabar, Siebren Versteeg, and Paul Vilinski.

And while there is quite a lot to say about each of the artists, from the flight of Vilinksi’s bird records to Invader’s album recreations with Rubik’s cubes, I found the more subtle piece of Ted Riederer’s record bins most provoking given the setting of the show and ensuing panel discussion.

We can all remember perusing music lined aisles flipping through albums, or for my generation cds. It can be almost trance-like, the repetitive motion as each album face flips forward revealing another and another, until something strikes your fancy and makes you pause. It’s what’s captured and utilized in Riederer’s record bins, the centerpiece of Never Records. Each donated record blacked out with a single line on each album. Taken separately, one might mistake it for a guessing game of what the record might have been or it’s most famous single; taken entirely it’s a evocative, 15-stanza poem.

And while I hate to remove it from the exhibition backdrop, especially when each stanza ends with an oddly paralleled real album (also donated), it’s poignant enough to read on its own, especially given the context of Tuesday’s featured panel discussion “Discs to Downloads: New Directions in Music Industry” (which includes: Elliot Groffman, Music Industry Attorney for Dave Matthews Band and Jay-Z; Kevin Patrick, Artist Manager for Matt & Kim, Lord Warddd, Vivian Green; David Weiss, Co-Founder/Co-Editor SonicScoop.com; Ted Riederer, Featured Artist, “Never Can Say Goodbye”; Oli Stephenson, CTO, CBS Interactive Music Group).

I.
In the heart of nowhere
At the end of the beginning
We are all set adrift
Under skies of vermillion and silver

II.
Welcome to tomorrow
This is the age of alarm
These are ghost stories
Tales from planet earth.

III.
Our world
The one rare earth
Will never be the same
This is the turning point.

VI.
As the sun gets hotter
The vapor of gasoline in the wind
Will catch fire.

V.
The great lonely city
Is a dead memorial
To days of wine and roses.

VI.
Living in danger
We are walking a changing line
A battle of heaven and earth

VII.
So many men witness universal struggle
Around the world and preach
How they are different from others
And lie “It could never happen here.”
We are all destroyers and refugees
Connected by a bitter history of abuse

VIII.
The makers sing us to sleep
In a dreamland of product in paradise
Alkaline dreams murder minds

XI.
The rebel youth are hungry
For some kind of spiritual voyage.

X.
Resist the in-crowd
Who dance their danse macabre
In a theater of suicidal tendencies
Fight the status quo
Fight for love
Ideas are bulletproof
Like germs we will take hold of the system
One cell at a time
Some people cry “cultural decay” others Scream “revolution.”

XI.
The feeling that
It’s more than you
More than you know
Is the true meaning of brotherhood.

XII.
Look no further
Tear down the unopened door inside you
The ghost in you
Dreams of emancipation
Crossing a bridge that just won’t burn
You alone can save you.

XIII.
Believe in the midget and the giant
Diamonds and rust
Death and transfiguration

XIV.
In time a song shall rise
For those who believe in the wisdom of looking in
Street songs
Songs for sinners
A lullaby in tongues
The sweetest sounds
And the most beautiful noise

XV.
I will wait of you
In the diamond night
Alone together
With eyes that see in the dark
We will wait for the golden dawn of redeeming grace.

Let’s face it, the age of the internet has ravaged the music industry, but it’s important to examine exactly what part of the industry it’s taken a bite into. What have mp3s, iTunes, MySpace, YouTube, and the creation of applications allowing “free” downloads of virtually any song be it obscure live recording or top 100 billboard song done to the creators of music–it’s essentially taken away one major gatekeeper and with it a huge hurdle–the record label and distribution. This is not to downplay the fact that it also hits the pockets of the artist, but the label has always done that. I can remember a video interview of Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes from TLC (yes I was a fan) livid at the knowledge that they made but a few cents off each album, which divided three ways and minus their own expenses was by star standards pretty modest to say the least. It’s more notable that major labels are finally feeling the pinch, so call it a little karmic retribution.

Riederer, who abashedly claims friendship with a few bands signed by big labels remarks that for the band members what changed wasn’t so much the cash-flow from album sales, it’s that now they could gain a larger following more quickly. Riederer also quips musicians are still screwed, they “still have to try and make money the same way that they always have… and that’s going out on tour and selling merch.” And aptly notes, “it’s as if we are sitting here trying to connive or figure out a way for major labels to adapt and keep their profit margins.”

Looking at the larger picture of what the panel brought to light was the trend across all mass media towards that of an individual, DIY media. Traditional paradigms of distribution and discovery have been shattered, opening avenues and ways of communication that promote connectivity amongst the masses that up to now have never been available. As David Weiss, the Co-Founder/Co-Editor of SonicScoop.com said, “New technology has shifted supply, having music recorded and distributed is no longer a privilege it’s a right.”

One could argue that the plethora is overwhelming, unleashing a herd of mental masturbators who want the world to know their indigestion woes from week old pizza or worse show it to you with a soundtrack. And yes, there is a multiplication of the mediocre and banal added to the internet ether. On the flip side however, it’s enabled a dialogue, a conversation if you will, that no other artistic age had available, introducing an additional tool into the art making process, the highest social art form, the art of conversation. To be both fiercely individual and intensely interconnected, to have unique ideas and views that can be disseminated, related, and understood and equally misunderstood, is an environment both exhilarating and leveling. Today, the next big star isn’t necessarily one that gets signed by the major label and manufactured to stardom, it’s as easily plausible to get discovered on MySpace, mentioned on Pitchfork, and skyrocketed into the ears of adoring fans. One realizes the awesome power of the most base form of marketing – word of mouth.

With the proliferation of blogs, Facebook accounts, and  twitterers, everyone is a critic. Why listen to the opinion of a single critic, when you can survey thousands in seconds and decide for yourself if what someone has to say matters to you. It’s easier to doubt the opinion of a critic from a single news source, no matter how established, but when 100 of your facebook friends became a fan of a new band, you listen, hell even a fraction of that. If I saw that 10 friends completely unrelated to eachother were buzzing about a song, I would without a doubt be curious to check it out, not just to hear it for myself, but also see what it was that was connecting people, in a way transcending boundaries of personal taste.

Word of mouth is nothing new, it has always held sway, Malcolm Gladwell wrote about the power of it in his national bestseller The Tipping Point over ten years ago. But word of mouth has gained a momentum factor very different from the turn of the millennia. It’s mind-blowing to think about how many gadgets, words, and modes of communication have become fully integrated into daily practices that weren’t even in existence a mere decade prior. How people are connecting today in 2010 is completely different but the “laws” Gladwell laid down in is his book still apply. Gladwell quotes sociologist Mark Granovetter and his coined adage, “the strength of weak ties.” He writes,

“Granovetter argues that when it comes to finding out about new jobs — or, for that matter, new information, or new ideas — “weak ties” are always more important than strong ties. Your friends, after all, occupy the same world that you do. Your acquaintances, on the other hand, by definition occupy a very different world than you. They are much more likely to know something that you don’t.”

And what have applications like Facebook and Twitter done? They have vastly increased one’s ability to nurture weak ties and with it our abilities as individuals to influence each other. It has created a river of ambient personal knowledge, which the reader can choose when and how much to dip into.

Douglas Rushkoff, author of Life Inc., made an interesting comment at his recent Etsy appearance in Brooklyn, about how in our emerging DIY society to become relevant as an artist today is to be irrelevant. It eluded to the Renaissance practice of artistic sponsorship and its subsequent corporate iteration. The corporation can no longer extract value from the individual and shape it, it must come with greater authenticity–come from the individual and be built with other “irrelevant” individuals to gain relevance.

So where does this leave the evolution of the music industry? I leave the answer to the Do-It-Yourselfers and give nod to Riederer’s featured poem, “at the end of the beginning we are all set adrift…in time a song shall rise for those who believe in the wisdom of looking in.”

Additional Links:
Behind the Scenes, the making of Never Say Goodbye

Subject Related Links:
02/03/2010 Imogen Heap embraces twitter technology or rather wears it
02/03/2010 An “Interactive” Experiment

About No Longer Empty

No Longer Empty (NLE) is a comprised of arts advocates, curators and artists who orchestrate public art exhibitions in vacated storefronts and properties in New York City. The non-profit organization was conceived as an artistic response to our present economic condition and to revitalize empty spaces and areas around the venues by bringing thoughtful, high-caliber art installations with accompanying programs to the public.

Locating art in unexpected places in the public domain suggests new models of community art that are different from major institutions and galleries. Committed to art as a positive component for community and cultural development, No Longer Empty conducts outreach into the community to contribute meaningfully and bolster the local businesses through the increased flow of visitors that these exhibitions attract and by arranging programs such as panel discussions, music and performance evenings, children’s workshops, artist conversations and more.

These exhibitions could not have happened without the vacant spaces being generously donated rent-free by the landlords. The exhibitions and art chosen or created are site specific in the sense that they reflect such issues as the former use or history of the site, the nature of the neighborhood and, of course, the specific features of the space. Both established and emerging artists have been selected for the exhibitions, benefiting our audiences with rich variety and discovery.

I’ve always been in love with building blocks, deeply drawn to the idea of starting with a simple form and adding to it, building and constructing something far more complex from a single element…it’s also not intimidating. Try to add to an existing fort and it’s possible to witness it crumble having barely touched the thing. To start from square one, on the other hand, well if you didn’t like the placement of the first block, it’s not exactly difficult to start over.

To try and understand the whole of art history (in all its forms) and its influence on design is, to say the least, a tall order. I’d recently stumbled upon the writings of Jack Cheng, whose facetiously titled posting, 51 Ways to Change Your Life, bestowed only a single, but very poignant lesson (inspired in part from the 43 of Bruce Mau’s Incomplete Manifesto for Growth)- learn in moderation.

When you find yourself saying “that’s a really great idea, I should try that,” stop reading. Pick one thing from that list of fifteen. Don’t worry about finishing the rest of the book. Try it. Practice it, repeat it, until it becomes routine. Remind yourself to consciously think about it on a regular basis. When you make that one item a habit, you can come back to the source and learn something else. Then, every time you practice the new thing, you’ll be reminded to keep practicing all the old ones.

Moderation is key. The more we try to learn everything, the more we learn nothing.

So in the spirit of learning in moderation intermingled with my love of building blocks, it’s back to basics, exploring some of the most elementary principles of art and design, mainly of composition. Be it music or literature, painting or poster design, composition is the very basic building framework of any creative work, the combining of different parts to make a whole. How one consciously puts together the elements at their disposal- the first block.

Of course the tools at one’s disposal can be seemingly innumerable, flip open William Lidwell and Kritina Holden’s the Universal Principles of Design and you’ll see 210 pages worth, but I’d like to start with one in particular – proportion, more specifically the Fibonacci sequence.

Google anything to do with composition and inevitably you’ll come across, the rule of thirds and the golden ratio, aka the golden proportion, also referred to as the golden section and golden mean, dive a little deeper and it will point you to the Fibonacci sequence. A series of numbers in which each number beyond 0 and 1 is the sum of the previous two.

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, …

I once took a color theory class in which the teacher asked her students to define what good design was, in the end after quite a few well-crafted responses about utility, the “answer” she boiled it down to was that good design was what the majority of people deemed such. While it was a sobering answer in its stark simplicity, it still left a void as to why the majority should find one form generally more appealing than another.

Enter English poet John Keats and German physicist, psychologist, philosopher Gustav T Fechner, both of whom came to the same conclusion though from complete opposite ends. The former wrote in his conclusion to Ode on a Grecian Urn, “Beauty is Truth; Truth, Beauty. That is all ye know on Earth and all ye need to know,” the latter conducted an experiment to give aesthetics a mathematical foundation. Fechner conducted one of the first public surveys to measure statistically aesthetic preference. What he found was that people generally preferred ratios and proportions closest to large consecutive Fibonacci numbers. Proving the inherent preference for that which “we know,” a sort of “divine” truth in nature.

“Biologists, artists, musicians, historians, architects, psychologists, and even mystics have pondered and debated the basis of its ubiquity and appeal. In fact, it is probably fair to say that the Golden Ratio has inspired thinkers of all disciplines like no other number in the history of mathematics.”—Mario Livio, The Golden Ratio: The Story of Phi, The World’s Most Astonishing Number

Phi’s (φ) self-replicating symmetry appeals to us because we unconsciously sense its internal balance recognizing in the harmony of φ relationships the harmony within ourselves. φ resonates with the core of life, reminding us of our own infinite depth and beauty. – Michael S. Schneider, A Beginner’s Guide to Constructing the Universe

The point being, one need not be aware of mathematics and phi to appreciate beauty because we know them, we find its reflection in every organic and for that matter many an inorganic object we come in contact with. Appreciation and utilization, however are two very separate things. How an artist is able to incorporate such proportions or break them and its subsequent effects throughout history may very well be like its graphical depiction, seemingly infinite and full hidden harmonies and relationships to be uncovered and discerned by the careful observer/student.

RELATED LINKS & RESOURCES
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_works_designed_with_the_golden_ratiohttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibonacci_numbers_in_popular_culture

In a place where homes are more often referred to as apartments than houses, where the art of space saving has created its own booming industry, it’s no wonder that one isn’t often a physical house caller in New York City. So when you do find yourself in the privacy of an acquaintance’s home, it’s always something of a exploratory discovery.

Personally, my first gravitation is to the bookshelf, since there is usually at least one, even if it’s a single plank of wood, in a one room studio with a murphy bed and other space saving articles of dual purpose furnishings. In a recent experience, as the resident of said abode stepped into the bathroom I found myself perusing the pages of a book by Sol LeWitt. I’d never heard of him and hadn’t again till recently.

But his drawings did stay with me, I can’t really say why, the boldness, the simplicity…and yet I put it down and never thought about it again, that is until today, when I came across this quote randomly in the header of http://www.boym.com/blog/ I liked it and having a little widget of collected quotes added it and googled his name. When I found the drawings of said book, from said apartment, I wanted to know the full context and this is what I found:

Dear Eva,

It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itchin, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbling, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, scumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and you [sic] ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistant [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!

Over the course of his career (1928–2007), Sol LeWitt  produced more than 1,200 wall drawings. Being a minimalist, he reduced his art to basic shapes and colors and types of lines…”on black walls, all two-part combinations of white arcs from corners and sides, and white straight, not-straight, and broken lines.” Somehow, even this information provided a sort of sage-like comfort for me. The exacting direction simultaneously combined with a purposeful ambiguity. It affords a freedom of exploration without the paralyzing effects of a blank page.

It’s been noted that he too came across a book one day that would influence him in a sort of chance encounter. It was a series of action shots taken sequentially of people and animals – Eadweard Muybridge’s photographs. And it was from this moment that he found a certain clarity. He strove “to recreate art, to start from square one,” focusing on simplicity and the idea.

In his 1967 article in Artforum, he writes, “The ideas need not be complex. Most ideas that are successful are ludicrously simple…No matter what form it may finally have it must begin with an idea. It is the process of conception and realization with which the artist is concerned.”

So in honor of Sol LeWitt and the serendipity of experience…to the simplicity of life moving forward with all it’s wonderful twists and turns – may the new year bring the courage to learn LeWitt’s straightforward, albeit somewhat brash lesson: “Learn to say ‘Fuck You’ to the world once in a while.”