My Blog__ Inside/Outside
Yesterday I booked flights to go home over the holidays. Just for a week, over the Christmas-to-New-Years transitional period. I'm thinking about what I'm going to need over the next few months--materialistically. I have a military-serious Parka. I'll have to start wearing boots to work and changing into inside shoes once I get to the office. I was never the kind of person who understood inside/outside distinctions. It's like, my inside voice and my outside voice sound the same, they're both loud. My inside shoes and my outside shoes are the same, they're both black leather ankle boots.
I miss waking up and slipping on sandals and rolling through the beach to a gallery to a cafe. I wanna go back! I was just in Miami for the weekend for Art Basel with three of my very best, very most fun friends and the trip was so carefree that we were pretty much screaming, "We're in Miami bitches!!!" about every 20 minutes. No parkas needed.
This was my first trip down and the city seemed to be a fairly close intimation to what I imagined. There were a lot of corsets and stacked heels, a cultural phenomenon of which I was more than happy to partake. There was a lot of skinny dipping and Moet sipping, and no doubt I participated in that too. Does anyone else feel like they didn't see nearly enough Art at Art Basel? I saw a lot of bottoms of rocks glasses, that's for sure. I saw a lot of tits. The weekend was amazing and one of the biggest highlights was the cab ride back to South Beach from Ghe20 G0th1k--obviously the JPop goth vibes Venus and $hayne were courting the attendees with were amazing, but I've come to expect nothing less from them. My thighs are sore every time I leave that party cause I'm moving from start to finish. But we got in this cab and were given the gift of Plies. There are no words. Please just listen to Good Dick as you read.
Bumping in the back of this cab screaming about how we need good dick? Miami, be gentle. It could be the juxtaposition of this with the rainy slow-pace of NYC this week that's got me feeling like a crazy girl. It might have just been the abuse I did to my bod. It could be some form of withdrawal--hello, Westway Popup at Basel? When's the Basel Popup at Westway! That one seems like a no brainer. You know that feeling when the party ends and you wonder if it was all kosher? Like, was that shit I uploaded to Facebook appropriate? Probably not. Was that 20 minute rendition of Kendrick's entire OD mixtape I performed to all the people in the hot tub attractive? Probably not. And now what am I left with? Sand in my crevices...yes I am still finding sand. And the intense desire to listen to Take care on repeat. Maybe I should just recount my exhibitionism of this weekend with drapey black clothing and hiding in my bed catching up on Dexter. Truly though, when in peril, turn to Drake. That's what I always say. And Drake tells RiRi that when the party's over we change the pace and just go slow.
So I put on some Drizzy while you guys are probably still repping Good Dick and I'm gonna tell you about the best art part of the weekend. Kate Werble's stall at the Nada Fair was so distinguished from the rest of the show spaces. No white walls, no digital collages. The entire booth was covered in sleek black plastic and the artists' works infused texture, architecture and vibrant colour into the otherwise conservative, safe energy of so many of the booths. Works by Anna Betbeze and Brock Enright stood out. And my greatest pleasure was falling in love with and quite seriously proposing to Chuck Yatsuk, a performance artist whose work (with Justin Rancourt) targets the ever-target-able spectacle of motivational speaking. I was told after we met that Chuck ONLY wears clothing from LL Bean and has not purchased brand new clothing in 10 years as he fully takes advantage of their wear-for-life policy. Yes, LL Bean replaces your worn out clothing. Something I never even knew until Art Basel. Ah, the things we learn.
Anna Betbeze is getting some serious love in the art world, her moss garden is something that J used to fantasize before she'd even encountered the work. She always used to say things like, "I just wish that I could be moss instead of human." She's such a wonderful weirdo like that. Betbeze's pieces have this stagnant internal conflict--they look like they are alive and rotting at the same time. Like mould, but more enticing than mould. I feel like pictures of colourful mouldy food are trending on tumblr, maybe just on mine. Anyways, that's a little snippet of what I saw this weekend. Stay tuned for compromising photos and more offensive rap.