dayoutlast is a record of my direct engagement with mostly contemporary art, mostly Los Angelean.

As this blog has evolved since its 2010 inception, so has my perspective. What I once perceived as central within the investigation was what was central, literally, within the photographic frame that I shared here. While still an important consideration, such thinking has also given way to more peripheral considerations, ones also accompanied occasionally by text (written manifestation of thought) and the oscillations between them. What's missing here are larger unknowns surrounding issues of presentation and representation; the amount of time and space it actually takes to accomplish such first-hand observations; and the quandaries between documentation and interpretation.

Despite my attempt to communicate here with image and text what is essential in some respect about the artwork, neither representation should ever be considered a substitution for the primary viewing experience. Of course, occasionally there are exceptions.

Most of the time, these posts are merely remnants---residual fragments---from my last day out.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

Stephanie Taylor "Kong Boos" @ MAK Center


Broom and Rum, 2009
Aluminum










Kindling, 2016
Bronze with tin plate




Ass, 2015
Bronze with partial brass plating

Hopper, 2006
Bronze with copper plate

Pheasant, 2014
Resin




Buoys, 2012
Rope, cement, stainless steel


The Goodbye Song, 2011
Sound
TRT: 2:35 minutes

Piston Toggle, 2013
Sound
TRT: 4:57 minutes



Swam Sea Span, 2012
Sound
TRT: 1:52 minutes


Camp.  A place to gather for adventure as kids in summer and an idea about culture and taste.  Certainly, word play and free association is welcome here in Taylor's world of objects and sounds.  How song, sound, image, and material feedback through such an architectural context as Schindler's early 20th century, west coast porto-modernist encampment seems apropos and simultaneously ridiculous all at once.  Such seems to be the flavor of works.  I'm either wandering through a summer cabin/bunkhouse imagining myself aboard a ship at sea or I'm reveling in one of Modernism's earliest residential sanctuaries.  Whatever the fantasy, and I'm assuming such worlds are not mutually exclusive here, there is such an oddity and peculiarity to it all that one must stop and consider carefully what is and possibly what is not.  Knot? Such is the purpose of art when so contextualized, I believe.  Whether or not you enjoy camp or Camp, you can't deny you had some fun.  It's just a matter of whether you are telling anyone about it or not. Knot. Knob Goos...

Susan Sontag's 1964 essay, "Notes on Camp," may or may not apply here, but, regardless, it's worth thinking about. Click here to read.



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