Head space and desire.

Dave Hickey describes his experience of watching Andy Warhol's film Haircut kind of like this:

The art misfits are gathered together in a video screening room for art house film night. "Haircut" comes on; everyone sort of settles in for the experience. The group is lulled into a sense of transfixed boredom as the man on screen receives his haircut. Snip, snip, snip. Suddenly, the man casually lights a cigarette. Oh, my, god, that was action! There are cheers. This simple action as a release blows Dave's mind. The man smokes the cigarette as his haircut is finished. The film ends. Everyone is excited.

Jonathan Horowitz's mon-sun, currently on display at MoMA, takes this feeling of excitement away from any actual experience and places it firmly in the viewers head.

As pictured to the left there is a TV set with a VHS player. Seven video cassettes are labeled with the days of the week. The monitor displays the name of the day in which you encounter the piece.

Sunday is displayed and I can't help but imagine six hours in the future when a gnome walks up, ejects the current cassette, and puts in "Monday." The gnome looks at his calendar makes a satisfied check-mark and saunters through the hallowed halls passed the almost entirely uninteresting Martin Puryear's and back into his little gnome world.

In contrast with the experience of the Warhol film any action associated with mon-sun will most likely take place while no one is around. (Although can you imagine the cheer after a dedicated 24 hours of watching this? That would only be one day. The week long run would 168 of mind numbing with seven instances of movement. Eat your heart out Douglas Gordon.) So any experience of a specific event taking place is must be differed to our imagination. Standing in front of the piece we are left with the unalterable, continuous present. This is an amusing context for such a moment. We are surrounded by thousands of objects which scream, "Change." While we share our time with Jonathan we only have our head space and the hope for a seven day cycle.

If Horowitz's piece leaves us where we are, Cheryl Donegan's Head confused me and then excited me. Then it confused me again. I left excited but then this ended up continuing to be confusing. It was in a section marked "Provocation." The piece consists of another TV, this one shows a lady (Cheryl) bending down to suck down some milk which is coming out of a green jar. She allows the milk to fill her mouth, plugs the whole, spits the milk back into the jar and repeats the process for the next three minutes or so. The background is pink, her hair is short, and the work she has put herself to gets sloppier as she performs the task. I felt a little dirty looking at it; that was kind of exciting. I shouldn't blame Cheryl's piece for confusing me. I think it is pretty straight forwardly a representation of a woman giving head. I guess I should just learn to be ok with getting excited by that.

To be a kid again or always.

18.2 tons for that massive piece of plastic? Fantastic. Ideas of childhood, birth, and I am pretty sure there is a bit about of growing up in Charles Ray's recent exhibition just closing at Matthew Marks on 22nd St. He has made three pieces which appear to have this content: really heavy things made to look light; children controlling objects of feminine desire; and delicate things represented as delicate. Thank you Charles for giving us a few moments to reflect on our own past, what the Volkswagen Beetle means for the feminization of the contemporary automobile, and why many of us choose to not eat chicken.