entrêpot

On the return leg of a recent trip, Jason Kottke was treated to a windshield tour of Geneva (Genf) and introduced to the city’s Freeport that is located at an private airfield annex off the main commercial runway.
The notion having a place to store goods not subject to taxation is an old one (examples here and here) but until recent times such warehousing was reserved for staples destined for the market and imminent resale and not as a tax-haven for the perversely wealthy to speculate and horde treasures until it becomes favourable again to trade amongst themselves. There’s a short documentary and more information at the link up top. Discretion being amongst the chief enticements of the Swiss facility (there are others, of course, and probably this idea of creating exclaves beholden to no tax jurisdiction will spread), no one can say for certain what all is stored in the Freeport but there seems to be agreement that were it a museum, it would be amongst the largest. As if frustrating the art world by making so many priceless works inaccessible (plus some looted patrimony) weren’t criminal enough, the building is neighbouring the old army barracks where political refugees are housed when they first arrive in Switzerland—sheltering next to the place where the despots and their associates they fled hide their fortunes.

shelfies

Translated literally as “books and things,” the tradition of painting depictions of one’s possessions—real and aspirational—is called chaekgeori (책거리) in Korean and reaches back to the Joeson dynasty.
These panels reflect near a one-to-one scale of the bookshelves that they portray and the items—symbols of status and education—are meticulously arranged. Despite the relative unknown status of the art form in Western traditions, it has nonetheless been influential, I believe, and also shows—counter to the notion that Asia society was insular and closed—that souvenirs and keepsakes from abroad were among the most treasured artefacts. Be sure to visit Hyperallergic at the link above for a whole gallery of chaekgeori screens and to learn more. 

stargate/sunstreak

Incredibly, as the investigative team at Muckrock discover, the presence of a brochure for the creepy-looking Buffalo Bill Wax Museum among the cache of declassified material from the Central Intelligence Agency has an even more bizarre reason for its inclusion. Not just hoarders of ephemera, they kept the historic document of the exhibition as it was decades ago in hopes of teasing out evidence of not just extra-sensory perception but also time-travelling abilities. What exactly was behind the choice of this chance culture touchstone (or rather, shibboleth) is unclear.

procrustean bed

Reading about how medical research and treatment can at times be prone to assigning arbitrary standards and causation to particular diagnoses and projected outcomes that risks spoiling the investigation by latching itself to the serviceable led us to learn about a mutilating, rather gruesome classical metaphor: a Procrustean bed. A son of the sea god Poseidon, Procrustes was a highway man and demented blacksmith who ran a hostel on the trail between Athens and Eleusis. Inviting pilgrims to stop and rest, the demigod would show his guests to their accommodations, a bed that was inevitable too big or small for the hapless traveller. Procrustes would then proceed to adjust his guests to fit, stretching them tortuously or whittling them down to size. The hero Theseus finally dispatched this menace as his sixth and final labour by putting the monster to his own rack. Despite its horror-story roots, the reference is invoked quite a bit and in addition to the above criticism levied against medical science, the European Union in its relations to its member states is sometimes described as the same sort of arrangement. The notion of one size fitting all or reverse-tailoring also occurs in geometry and statistical analysis where data is chosen selectively in order to prove a proposition. Television editors also call on Procrustes when they are faced with the sore task of having to cut for time.

post-mortem

In an effort to increase the public’s awareness of the environmental consequences of invasive species and monocultures, the city of Chicago’s bureau of parks and recreation has partnered with several art institutes to turn blighted trees into a medium for carving—rather than just carting them off. Though little consolation for loosing such ancient and stately members of the community to a voracious beetle that has consumed hundreds of millions of trees in North America since its accidental import from Asia circa 2002, it also provides an unexpected outdoors encounter, as authorities work to halt the spread, with the arts and generates curiosity for both the spectator and the creator.

le génie du mal

Our thanks to Kuriositas for introducing us to this handsome devil, who’s taken up residence underneath the pulpit (chaire de vérité) of Saint Paul’s Cathedral of Liège (previously).
Not the usual subject of religious sculpture, the artist who executed this fallen angel, Guillaume Geefs, had to come up with his own iconography—drawing from the myth of Prometheus and other sources to frame his creation—which was commissioned as a replacement for an earlier work by his younger brother, whose version of the Genius of Evil was removed from the church for being too much a distraction for the congregation. See a comparison at the link up top. I suspect that church-goers still do not dedicate their undivided attention to the sermon but rather spare a glance to the tortured soul lurking below—the elder Geefs making the androgynous figure even more alluring. The brothers Geefs came to prominence themselves in the 1830s with Belgian independence movement by creating nationalistic monuments and public sculpture that celebrated their history and culture separate from the Netherlands, and the Church turned to the artists to convey their dispatch of the “triumph of religion over evil’s genius” but it is debatable whether either iteration was exactly on message for parishioners and the wider public—the devil too sublime and seductive. It’s always a gamble whether people respond better to caricature or camouflage.