Saturday Night Saunters in Hoods Begging Names

04/16/2012 8:59 AM |

At Slag Contemporary for the opening of Undercover. On the wall, works by Molly Stevens.
  • At Slag Contemporary for the opening of Undercover. On the wall, works by Molly Stevens.

I attended a handful of gallery openings on Saturday evening in the general environs of what one might perhaps start calling West Bushridge, or Greater Ridgewick, or Wilshridge, or Wilckwood, or with a fair amount of L-tenuated stretch—and maybe comely gravitas—Jekalb’s Morgue.

Or should one tend rather toward the goofy than the grave, Bill’s Bushwood might be an insertable fit, a proper nominal straddling of sundry properties from just west of Johnson to the northeast tip of Himrod.

Puns on some names have been ripe for some time.

Anyway, the hell. Border disputes. Facts on grounds. While condos and their ilk will eventually be crammed into all available nooks all the same. And the produce selection at Associated Supermarket will continue to improve, diversify, inflate.

Wait, how about Flushing Saddlestraps? That’s fetching. Call it that. It rings a bit equestrian, a bit anachronistic, a bit Downton Abbey, a bit…

Whatever. All extant names are fine enough as they stand, not least given their broader county-spanning monikers pertaining to Kings and Queens.

So, onward. The evening’s saunters carried on from East Williamsburg to Ridgewood, then terminated in Bushwick. And they began with an encounter with a discarded, or perhaps defeated, post-Alf-ine gargantoid, an androidal Shrek of sorts, a Voltron reject. They then led to openings at Slag Contemporary and Interstate Projects at 56 Bogart, then out to a space-christening exhibit and reception at Parallel Art Space. The visits ended later on with a final encounter of a much more somber sort, one with two rooms displaying Andrew Hurst’s newest array of mystique-steeped artworks at English Kills. I’ll have more to say about this latter exhibit later this week.

For now, below are some images from all above-mentioned spaces. All glimpsed in the zones of these devil-may-name-them places.

The post-Alf-ine gargantoid, the androidal Shrek, the Voltron reject, etc, outside 56 Bogart.
  • The post-Alf-ine gargantoid, the androidal Shrek, the Voltron reject, etc, outside 56 Bogart.

As above, seen here with some jerk in front to provide scale.
  • As above, seen here with some jerk in front to provide scale. Photo by Rafael Fuchs.

Works by Trish Tillman, at Slag Contemporary.
  • Works by Trish Tillman, at Slag Contemporary.

Curious beddings going on with Rebecca Goyettes participatory installation, Bundling Bags.
  • Curious beddings going on with Rebecca Goyette’s participatory installation, Bundling Bags, at Slag Contemporary.

One of the evenings more piquant talking points was Narcissisters performance at Interstate Projects, which did ultimately feature an endo-cum-exo-vaginal answering of a cellphone. That aside, it was also a performative coup that merged flawlessly the amusing with the haunting, the political with the erotic. Ones greater ponderings were of the masks, which sent shudders.
  • One of the evening’s more piquant talking points was Narcissister’s performance at Interstate Projects, which did ultimately feature an endo-cum-exo-vaginal answering of a cellphone. That aside, it was also a performative coup that merged flawlessly the amusing with the haunting, the political with the erotic, the Venus-of-Willendorfian with the pole-less pole-dance-like. One’s greater ponderings were of the masks, which sent shudders.

Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.
  • Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.

Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.
  • Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.

Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.
  • Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.

Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.
  • Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.

Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.
  • Narcissister, at Interstate Projects.

Narcissister, strutting off just after her gasp-begging cellular removal. Not sure if it was a smart phone, but one presumes it was a smooth one. Yet again, her performance should be recalled as far more than just that.
  • Narcissister, strutting off just after her gasp-begging cellular removal. Not sure if it was a smart phone, but one presumes it was a smooth one. Yet again, her performance should be recalled as far more than those closing moments, so to speak, of her act.

The space-christening crowd at Parallel Art Space.
  • The space-christening crowd at Parallel Art Space.

Bright lights all ablaze in the new Parallel Art Space.
  • Bright lights all ablaze in the new Parallel Art Space.

The crowd gathered thick for Andrew Hursts solo show at English Kills.
  • The crowd gathered thick for Andrew Hurst’s solo show at English Kills.

English Kills artist Lenny Reibstein digging into Hursts works with gestures of very probable approval.
  • English Kills artist Lenny Reibstein digging into Hurst’s works with gestures of very probable approval.

It really was quite a curious thing, that thing. An update: The next evening it was already headless. Photo by Rafael Fuchs.
  • It really was quite a curious thing, that thing. An update: The next evening it was already headless. Not long after sunup today, it was missing several limbs. But it was still shining bright in the buttery morning light. Photo by Rafael Fuchs.

You can follow Paul D’Agostino on Twitter @postuccio

One Comment

  • Great Article Paul! Thanks for the coverage of Parallel Art Space and the photos!
    I’m sorry that I missed seeing the post Alf-ine Gargantoid at 56 Bogart! Really Interesting humanoid thing (and even better proposed titles for it!)