| Ends of Days |
| Thursday, 15 April 2010 19:16 |
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The days are winding down until I leave; back to the beginning. The end doesn't go out in a bang, or a whimper but perhaps with a "pop" - from the champagne. But nowadays, curating a show is an purest and rawest form of avant-garde; naming the show with twenty-one artists is another thing. Yet, in the course of other things to think about (i.e. "Am I making meaningful art?", "What goes in the show?", "Where the hell are my pants?" and etc.) a set of dilemmas comes up to exhume us into a realization of creative block and twenty-something alcoholism.
Artists, in the situation of war, fight not just with words but with ideas and images. Instead of interruptions, the residents and I get bombarded with the legacy of the New York Studio Residency Program. How do we live up to something we have not witnessed yet experience? And how do we honor those before us?
For about two weeks, we were coming up with our show title and image for the show cards. We were fighting with titles and images, eventually boiling it down to several titles stemming from "Interrobang" to "All my people are coming with me" (which Nicó Colón coined this). The title materialized in its finality as "You Made Me Do This" which originally came out from critic and curator Dominique Nahas' seminar.
Right now, we are at the process of floor planning and solidifying the space itself. Very imperialistic I would say. RSVP here: Tommy "You say 'Goodbye,' and I say 'Hello.'" Kha |