Has it really been a year since I first started grousing about Warner Bros’ meddling with the first cut of Where the Wild Things Are and puzzling over how anyone could possibly not be crazy about blueberry pie? A big thank you to Visualingual, Engineer’s Daughter, Catherine Clark Gallery, Invisible Venue, San Francisco is Sexy, artist Jon Clary, Intersection for the Arts, Iceberger Gallery (please, please come back) and the Chinese Culture Center for linking to my posts. Go visit them! Thanks also to Marina Cain of Cain Schulte Contemporary Art, johnny0 of Burrito Justice, Resonant Eye, Beverly Kaye of ArtBrut, and DJ from Eighth Art for their comments. Props to Mark McLaren of McBuzz for helping me out with tips to get my sidebar widgets to do what I wanted. And thanks to artist Rie Kawakami for just being awesome overall.
Before I go on, I’d like to invite anyone out there reading to attend the vigil for Laura Ling and Euna Lee that will be held on the steps of City Hall in San Francisco tomorrow evening, Thursday July 9th at 6:30pm. Laura’s husband Ian Clayton has set up a post office box, and we’ll have pre-addressed post cards available for you to send a message to the women, who have since our last vigil been sentenced to 12 years in a North Korean labor camp. The postcards from our last vigil were delivered to Laura and Euna and I’d imagine are a great comfort to them since access even to their family members is limited. There will also be a group photo so you can show your solidarity in a request of amnesty for the two reporters.
Okay, back to the farewell.
If there was anything disconcerting about visiting galleries in the past year, it was arriving to find them empty. From the start, I decided I would only attend shows that were reachable by public transportation and that were open on a weekend day or had extended evening hours (none of this by appointment only). I tended to choose SF venues since I could cram several stops into a Saturday (meaning I missed a wealth of amazing things going on in the East Bay) and to emphasize just how much good stuff was happening locally. I hope that something I posted encouraged someone who would normally feel intimidated by the idea to try a smaller venue rather than making a trip to the museum.
My friend Dave asked me to list the words and phrases I vowed never to utter in a post, so here they are (as near as I can remember):
“What does it mean to say…?”
“in a sense…”
“challenges the very nature of…”
“calls into question”
So if you saw any of them here, it was because I was being lazy or not paying attention or both.
To all the visitors who arrived via a Google image search for James Jean, I apologize that there wasn’t more here for you. Maybe an SF gallery would like to host a showing of his work (hint, hint)?
Since today is shaping up to be the most visited on my blog since I started, I can only assume that this means that you’re all on your way to check out the Present Tense show. Just tracking down all the window displays is an adventure in itself, so be sure to pick up a flyer with locations, available right inside the doorway. I self consciously chose the Chinese Culture Center for my last post since it was the site of the first exhibit I wrote about (and Beili Liu’s artwork still sticks in my head to this day). I thought it would bring a nice kind of closure to the blog. I needn’t have bothered trying so hard. Fate has a way of working these things out for you.
After CCC, I walked down to Meridian and then hoped on BART to catch the final day of the Trace Elements show that was in its last week. I walk inside the Herbst Theatre, head to SFAC’s room and give the door a tug. Locked.
Despite the fact that there’s a sign right next to me that says it should be open.
Furious. A guy in a suit approaches, bangs loudly on the door and gives up. I’m reminded that my very first blog post was actually about standing outside Fecal Face with my face pressed up against the glass trying to make out all the wonderful things I could see inside. This happened to me so many times over the past year that I stopped writing about it.
But one thing at least was different this time around…
…this time, I had my camera.
Take that Time, you son of a bitch.