Weekend of the 11th and 12th (currently it’s 7:15 pm on Fri…)

Martin McMurray, "An Indistinct Utterance of Surrender", 2008, Acrylic on wood panel, 16 x 20 inches

Martin McMurray, "An Indistinct Utterance of Surrender", 2008, Acrylic on wood panel, 16 x 20 inches

Quickly now, Edgar Arceneaux “The Algorhythm Doesn’t Love You” an ongoing series and Martin McMurray Dystopia – 1010 Years Ago are both closing at Susanne Vielmetter

Candice Lin Holograms is closing at Francois Ghebaly

Thomas Helbig, I'm not certain of the specifics on this work. Go see the show and find out. China Art Objects

Thomas Helbig, I'm not certain of the specifics on this work. Go see the show and find out. China Art Objects

Thomas Helbig Use Your Relatives is closing at China Art Objects

I strongly recommend that you look at this video – no, film – contemplation of life, art, space and sofa sleeping made to celebrate CAO’s recent move to Comey Street in Culver City. Video of China Art Objects (Thanks to fb friend Zack Peabody for linking me to this cool video.)

Larry Mullins New Baggage at Blythe Projects is closing and on the high note of a Leah Ohlman review in the LA Times. Congratulations Larry!

left- Passing Happy Hours, 2010.  Oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches;  right- Walker #4, 2007. Oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches. Both John Tottenham. Link to Amazon page for the updated "Inertia Variations" and while the page notes 'updated' it shows no original publication date. Hmm.

left- Passing Happy Hours, 2010. Oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches; right- Walker #4, 2007. Oil on canvas, 9 x 12 inches. Both John Tottenham. Link to Amazon page for the updated "Inertia Variations" and while the page notes 'updated' it shows no original publication date. Hmm.

Koki Tanaka Random Hours, Naotaka Hiro Night and Fog, Tubes on Black Mountain, Kaz Oshiro Home Anthology 2, John Tottenham Paintings and Drawings are all closing at Las Cienegas Projects. This is waaaaay too much to miss. I know La Cienega is a featureless and drab avenue to travel but travel you must. Today or tomorrow. Dress up a little – it suits the LCP vibe.

Drive up La Cienega (Again, sorry that it’s gross and trafficky. Maybe switch to Robertson at some point.) At Margo Leavin The City Proper isn’t closing nor is it opening. Leah Ohlman reviewed the show in today’s Times and Catherine Wagley on Daily Serving. D and I were at Margo’s last week – I’ve wanted to see work by Peter Holzhauer and Lisa Ohlweiler for a year or so I was pretty stoked. More so now having seen how good their work looks.

Zoe Crosher "LAX Courtyard by Marriott," 2005. Lightjet print; edition of 5. 27 x 27 inches.

Zoe Crosher "LAX Courtyard by Marriott," 2005. Lightjet print; edition of 5. 27 x 27 inches.

Welling included a number of Crosher’s prints from this Out the Window (LAX) series. Formally these are beautiful pictures, and the visual repetition of glazed opening / airplane totally engaged me. Perhaps this is a trick of display, whatever. I felt a bit like Tippi Hedron in the phone booth scene in The Birds – as first a car, then a gas station, then a building each explode as she spins her head catching these separate dramas through the framed glazing. Neat.

Check out Zoe Crosher’s own website with additional images, texts by Crosher herself, Pico Iyer, Norman Klein, Julian Myers and more. Very interesting.

Lisa Ohlweiler, Untitled "(House at Night)." 2009 Silver gelatin print; edition of 3. 17-1/2 x 23 inches.

Lisa Ohlweiler, Untitled "(House at Night)." 2009 Silver gelatin print; edition of 3. 17-1/2 x 23 inches.

Since there are only two photos by Ohlweiler to look at and I’ve not spoken with her, I’m left to my own devices with her work.

(Brief authorial interjection here.) Well, I think this statement is true across the range of this show.  It’s been a topic of much discussion that people have an easier time thinking about a painting than a photograph. I know that I feel photography can be a discussion I only see happening through sound-proofed windows… perhaps it is something in the fact that the technical part of photography is so challenging? Is it something in humans that we resist finding art in a thing so perfect, so inhuman? Ideas with which our minds wrestle while we look.

Having said all that, the photo I’ve included by Ohlweiler brings to mind a house on Oakwood, just west of Highland (I think) where there used to live the most fabulous woman: old enough to seem ageless, dressed always in purple with purple super high platform boots and her hair pulled up in a purple tube on top of her head. This woman visited the same swap meets D and I used to visit – I so longed to approach her, to tell her how much it meant to me to share the world with her. The house on Oakwood – her house, was covered all over in flagstone and painted black. It was quite a statement.

After our heroine moved away the next owner stuccoed over everything, including the roof drains. So, so wrong. Bad property owner, to destroy all that mojo.

The house that Lisa Ohlweiler photographed at night reminds me of this house.

Amir Zaki, Untitled "(83)," 2007. Vivera Pigment Archival Photograph; edition of 5. 42-3/4 x 54-1/2 inches

Amir Zaki, Untitled "(83)," 2007. Vivera Pigment Archival Photograph; edition of 5. 42-3/4 x 54-1/2 inches

And then… we saw several pieces by Brandon Lattu and both just stopped. Then we circled the sculptural photo-presences wondering what we were seeing. These are boxes sticking Judd-like out of the wall. They are lovely colored objects and are mysterious to the point of feeling mystical. Well, that phrasing doesn’t really convey what I felt standing near them… okay, they feel un-emphatic, they’re not lacking in definition but…. Oh dear, let me try again: if you take the piece of paper on which is written a description of this work and then focus your eyes only on the white spaces btwn and around the letters that’s the feeling I had looking at Lattu’s Random Composition 12-105, Random Composition 13-100 and Random Composition 11-101. My consciousness picked up information but when I swung my head to capture the thought it was gone. With a quiet whoosh.

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