Messy Nessy Chic correspondent Francky Knapp stumbled across the vintage 2012 art lesson, Yellow Scream, from South Korean painter and instructor Kim Beom and shares her experience encountering the antithesis though no less effective and perhaps empathetic and approachable than Bob Ross’ method. Kim, a selection of his works exhibited at the MoMA and in other galleries, paints viscerally, the strokes evoking the spectrum of his cathartic cries but the technique, rather than alienating the audience with a tortured display of the misunderstood or unknowable artist, instead invites the student in with decorous abandon to consider how rage is best channeled through art therapy. Be sure and visit Messy Nessy Chic at the link up top to see and extended demonstration of Kim’s talent as an artist and a patient teacher.
Saturday 4 January 2020
happy little accidents
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Friday 3 January 2020
ๅญ
In what’s become a nice beginning of the solar, civil new year tradition in anticipation of the coming lunar one Spoon & Tamago (see previously) present a selection of designer greeting cards (nengajo, ๅนด่ณ็ถ) to welcome the Year of the Rat, the first zodiacal animal in the cycle of twelve to kick off a new decade. We especially liked this one from design studio Enokoro that features all species of rodents from shrews to hamsters to capybaras—not forgetting our friends the naked mole rats. This year of the White Metal Rat begins on 25 January and runs through 11 February 2021.
one dimensional chess
Though it is far too generous and naรฏve on all of our parts to hope that Trump, an impeached president ordering the assassination of foreign military leaders in contradiction to the Geneva Conventions and without informing much less consulting Congress and quite possibly his own military intelligence and senior leadership, might have a follow-on strategy that would de-escalate the situation and privilege the standing of America and its allies in the region, even the most satirical or cynical among us would not have summoned up a such a blathering, insipid response.
A day after urging protestors storming the US Green Zone and embassy compound in Baghdad in anger over US airstrikes against the Iranian-backed Kata’ib Hezbollah militia to disperse, a drone, at the direction of Donald Trump, destroyed the vehicle convoy transporting Major General and elite Quds Forces commander Qasem Soleimani and Popular Mobilisation Forces commander Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis at the capital’s airport—barely any time elapsing since the signal to stop rallying had been issued to gauge whether the protestors were under the control of the Iranian military in the first place, as the Trump administration suggestion—absent any evidence or intention, or than a provocative missive since deleted by Trump’s son foreshadowing the drone strike. This brash, unilateral behaviour once again demonstrates to the world America’s untrustworthiness as an international partner and its penchant for betrayal rather than dialogue when relationships become strained. Undoubtedly this is a case of the tail wagging the dog and a distraction from the focus on Trump’s impeachment but I’d be willing to bet, coming from this conman and carnival-barker and his following of grifters, that there’s wrapped into that diversionary tactic (those are the only stratagem this scoundrel takes truck in—self-preservation at all costs) is something more to put on the table: offering the more hawkish elements of those that have left the Trump cabinet the war that they’ve always wanted in exchange for their continued silence.
brick-and-mortem or from mall rat to snap chat
The curatorial team at Hyperallergic showcases the photographic essays documenting, unflinchingly and not just the empty, echoing nostalgia that ghost malls (see previously here, here and here) are usually treated with, the decline and decay of retail spaces after the pivot and paradigm shift away from the shopping centre and high street to online sales and virtual shop fronts of artist Philip Buehler.
The procession through the panels, the exhibits—buffeted with the memories we ourselves burden the scenes of wrack and ruin with—are also a eulogy for the idea of the third place, that oasis that was neither home nor work but a liminal spot for meaningful congregation—one’s social hour previously spent at church and then at the mall (most of the indoors anachronism are mainly food courts with a few anchor stores attached). Despite this gastronomical attempt at rehabilitation, a revanche and reorganisation of cafรฉ culture packaged and commodified in the most tedious and antithetical ways possible has not fulfilled that role of the third place, nor has another dominant technology and lifestyle company with the hubris to try to become the new town square. Though this may be the day we finally put aside that artificial divide we’ve created between worlds on-line and off, it is high time we begin to acknowledge the importance of these oases and transitional places, no matter where they exist. Buehler show runs through January at a gallery in the Lower East Side, Manhattan.
banana republic
Though a latter-day manifestation and another pineapple plantation, a competitor, might get stronger associations as a robber-baron for the US over-throw and annexation of the Kingdom of Hawai‘i it behooves one to remember that the United Fruit Company (and its successor Chiquita Brands International), whom enjoyed a different though nonetheless exploitative and neocolonial turf, in the Caribbean and Central America is no different and perhaps consequentially worse in some regards than the Dutch or the British East India Company and similar entities.
Powerful and able to act unilaterally with the full back of the US government and its military might, the United Fruit Company imposed martial law on Honduras on this day in 1932 to prevent disruption to supplies and the nascent Caribbean cruise-industry that had developed out of their shipping operations. The term for the client states of these monoculture corporations popularised by O. Henry’s short story Cabbages and Kings, but already manifestly obvious. An armada of steam ships—painted white to deflect the sun and thus keep its cargo cooler—had been put in service to bring bananas to northern and European market and the company saw an opportunity to maximise profits further by impressment of the fleet (naval surplus ships from World War I) to shuttle passengers around as well.
o snap!
First released on this day in 1990, the dance hit “[I’ve got] The Power” by Frankfurt-based creative collective Snap! quickly climbed the charts to reach highs of number two in Germany and the US and number one in the UK, Canada, Greece, Spain, Zimbabwe, the Netherlands and Switzerland. Their third collaboration on a single, it was composed by Michael Mรผnzing with Luca Anzilotti to showcase the vocal talents of rapper Turbo B and Penny Ford—with back-up from Jackie Harris.
First hearing the song I am confident that I did not know that the singers were German much less how my brain processed the enigmatic and dissonant (but I suppose also easily elided over) opening lyrics: “ะะผะตัะธะบะฐะฝัะบะฐั ัะธัะผะฐ Transceptor Technologies ะฟัะธัััะฟะธะปะฐ ะบ ะฟัะพะธะทะฒะพะดััะฒั ะบะพะผะฟัััะตัะพะฒ ‘ะะตััะพะฝaะปัะฝัะน ัะฟััะฝะธะบ,’” meaning the American firm Transceptor Technologies has begun the production of the Personal Companion computer—referring to a company then recently founded in Ann Arbor Michigan that specialised in accessibility options for the visually impaired and distributed a voice-controlled console that downloaded editions of the USA Today newspaper and would read out selected articles. A strange segue but I suppose those sort of accommodations and interventions are in the spirit of enfranchisement and empowerment celebrated in the verses and bars to follow.
