Question background:  The relationship between Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson has at times been described as both a rivalry and a collaboration. But what was it? History is full of creative rivalries such as Picasso and Matisse, Adidas and Puma, Microsoft and Apple, even the entire Renaissance. Today, though, technology has fostered a new model of creative process. Using open source software development and online collaborative platforms like OpenIDEO, designers are encouraged to collaborate instead of compete.

The Question: In your opinion, what produces the most innovative ideas and effective solutions: ‘Competition’ or ‘Collaboration’? Are there circumstances where one works better than the other?

To follow the full discussion please visit the Glass House Conversations website here.

The next morning I sent a letter to Nick Valenti, head of Patina with a suggestion for a name I thought would be fitting for the new restaurant.  I did not receive a response.  I wasn’t really expecting one.  I knew it was a long shot anyway.  I just came up with the idea and thought it wouldn’t hurt to present it to Mr. Valenti.

Well, today I just read on Grub Street that the name ‘Lincoln’ has been selected for the restaurant.  Fairly straightforward choice I guess.  Not too surprising given some of the other names on Patina’s roster.  But now that the die has been cast I guess I can share with you the name that I had suggested for the restaurant.  Here it is along with my explanation for it that I sent to Mr. Valenti:

Crescere

Crescere is the Italian verb meaning ‘to grow, to increase, to expand’.

The musical term ‘crescendo’ comes from ‘crescere’.

‘Crescendo’ means ‘a gradual increase of anything, especially to a dramatic climax’.

The growth and expansion implied in the name ‘Crescere’ could also reference the architectural ‘expansion’ of the site.

The word ‘crescere’ can also mean ‘to cultivate’.

‘Crescere’, when pronounced correctly, has an unmistakable Italian sound to it, thereby reinforcing the Italian concept of chef Benno’s menu.

Another reason that I think ‘Crescere’ is a perfect name for the restaurant is that the word itself is visually pleasing.

more depth to the referential exploration between the restaurant and it’s context.  ’Crescere’

Sure there were people there and the mood of gallerists seemed pretty upbeat.  But I think what I mean by ‘underwhelming’ is that it all, for the most part, felt pretty safe.  Sure there were a few new and interesting things here and there but most of the art felt like I had seen it before.  Actually, some of it I had seen before.  One of the shows most heavily represented artists this year was Robert Rauschenberg.  The most impressive piece of which was a 35 million dollar wall-sized monster at Gallerie Faurschou in Copenhagen.  Now that I am thinking about it I am wondering what made the piece so impressive.  It’s size?  It’s price?  Or it’s artistic merit?  Ah, the psychology of buying, selling and owning art.  A conversation for another time.  Regardless, Rauschenberg is a blue ribbon artist to be sure.  But definitely not ‘new’.  And safe in that the investment value of his art has long been established.

Also in the ’safe’ category were familiar looking pieces by well known artists.  Or should I say by well known artists’ assistants.  There was a wall of Damien Hirst skull pieces at Paul Stolper, screen printed in glittery metallic inks.  Affordable butterfly kaleidoscopes.  And a few pieces scattered about the show by Hirst and American art powerhouse Richard Prince that looked like a patchwork of several past series all thrown together.  A jumble of pills, dots and skulls or nurses and cowboys.  Take your pick.  Safe investments all.

British art-diva-with-issues Tracy Emin was, as usual, very visible with pieces at several galleries, but all that I saw was neon and embroidery from past years.  Of course it is possible that maybe I missed something, but I worry if it seems like an artist’s output starts to dwindle once they are able to pay their rent on time.  And speaking of artists that have fizzled, why have I not seen anything from Matthew Barney lately?  Sure the Cremaster Cycle was an epic amount of work.  And he scored creative volcano Bjork in the process, but when can we see some new stuff?

Also oddly absent from the festivities were work by both Takashi Murakami and patron saint of the New York art world, Andy Warhol.  As prolific as both of these artists are/were, and as revered as they continue to be… where was their work?  The only piece that came close was a Warhol / Jean-Michel Basquiat collaboration painting.  Was it that all of their work is so tied up in private collections or auction houses that no galleries have any pieces?  Maybe that’s a good sign for Warhol at least.  But for Murakami it would signal the same issue that I fear has overcome Emin and Barney.  Once life gets posh the new work output slows down.

Thankfully there were a few gems in the rough-and-tumble of the show.  Hernan Bas continues to grow in visibility, popularity and acclaim with pieces on display at several galleries.  My favorite of which was ‘For Isadora Duncan’, a little painting, pictured at left, at Victoria Miro Gallery.  Unfortunately it was from the long-ago days of 2005, but it was charming and really lovely.  Another very nice painting that we came across, shown at the top of this post, is ‘Untitled’, 2009 by artist Carla Klein at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery in New York.  We were told that Klein travels around the United States and takes photographs.  She then prints them herself, joins the photographs with adjacent shots and then proceeds to paint from the patch-worked image, printing blemishes and all.  The resulting paintings tend to produce haunting images of austere landscapes.  An America that, despite all of our best efforts, is relatively devoid of meaningful content.  But, nevertheless, an America of our own making.  If trudging up and down all the aisles of the Armory show were meant for me to only come to be introduced to this one artist, then it was worth it.

One last highlight was a piece by artist Sue Williams entitled ‘Age of Aquarius’.  Represented by ‘hot young thing’ New York art powerhouse 303 Gallery, Williams’ painting was a vibrant eye-catcher.  Spending any amount of time in front of it made your brain think that the image was actually out in front of the canvas.  Vaguely reminiscent of Warhol’s camouflage paintings, Williams’ work knows how to make the most of visual stimulation.  My only critique would be that her forms tread relatively close to the forms in the early work of Inka Essenhigh, a personal fave.  Both artists push and pull the boundaries of anthropomorphic association with their blobby form-making.  Sure their work differs in thesis and direction but a visual similarity is there.  Also interesting that they are both represented by 303.  Either way, Essenhigh’s work has developed in a different direction, they are both great artists and 303 is a very good gallery.

The Armory Show always ends for me in a tumult.  There is so much art to see in such a short time that I am left in a mix of emotions.  Redundancy and disappointment annually take their toll.  But thankfully, there are always a few pieces, artists and galleries at the Armory Show that give me hope and keep me coming back for more.  What I would like to see, though, is the organizers of Armory foster an excitement about art and the show that overtakes the entire city.  Not just the Piers.  The argument could be made that if you are not an art-scener you might not have known that there was a major art fair happening in New York City that weekend.  Where are the art installations in public spaces, the parties in hotel lobbies, the strategic placement of guerrilla art by as yet unknown young artists, the celebrity art-buying shopping sprees or the retail brands trying to get a piece of the art-frenzy action?  I am sure it is there in some fashion.  But it never feels as energetic or as urgent as the scene surrounding Art Basel Miami.  But then again, this is New York.  The only things we feel urgently are that our dinner at that new restaurant had better be superlative or that our co-op board approve our renovation plans.  Well… maybe a few other things.  But my point is that I think the Armory Show could do a lot more to bolster its reputation as one of the premier art fairs in the world.  But for now it is what it is.  And I will continue to meet Brian and go check out all of the art at the Armory Show.  Tracy Emin could not have said it better than with her neon piece… ‘I Keep Believing In You”.

I will say, though, that I had an initial hint of something ‘more’ hidden beneath the surface vacuity with the opening sequence of the statue of Jesus being flown in by hellicopter.  This scene was too strange, too particular to not have some deeper meaning.   And, lets face it, focusing the camera on a flying statue of Jesus could be something of a shortcut to metaphoric reference.  Nevertheless, it was not until later post-movie reflection that I started to understand this scene.  Though Jesus was leading the way through life, Marcello was too easily diverted from this ’straight and narrow’ course by the slightest glimpse of a woman.  An encapsulation of the lustful human condition?  Or is it the ‘Italian condition’?

It was not until further reading after the film that I realized that Fellini had thought out the sequence and setting of the movie quite extensively.  The scenes supposedly fit into the framework of seven ‘days’, evening and morning.  And the entire film is a study of the decay and moral devolution of modern culture.  Hmmm… did I miss something?  Evidently Fellini expended some substantial brain power on this one.  And obviously, it deserves another look from me.  From what I can discern in the ink spilled about La Dolce Vita, there is a lot of material that can be mined from within this film.  A welcome change from the vacuity of most films today.  But I will say this – I find the typical poster image for this film, of the blond bombshell Sylvia, to be misleading.  But… maybe that is the point.

Well… as much as I love Bjork (and Matthew Barney)… I might have to rethink that rule.  Europa, a story about an American that takes a job as a train conductor in Post World War II Germany, is… shall we say ‘odd’.  The film is slow, pedestrian in dialogue and simple in plot.  Actually kind of ridiculous in plot.  A blackmail bomb plot juxtaposed with a promotion exam?  I get it – the notion of extremes of national identity, but it comes off as plodding and clumsy. 

Von Trier’s use of splitting foreground and background, and black and white and color, seems strained at best and arbitrary at worst.  I am left wondering why this story had to be told.  And why did it have to be told in this way?  I am sure there are lessons and insights to be mined in an exploration of a nation trying to find its footing again after a devastating war.  But I am not sure that ‘Europa’ succeeds in finding anything useful to say or saying it in a compelling way.