Best of 2014: Kara Walker at the Domino Sugar Factory

Kara Walker's A Subtlety at the Domino Sugar Refining Plant

When I called Ai Weiwei's show at the Brooklyn Museum the most impressive exhibition of the year, I may have misspoken. That title might more rightly be given to Kara Walker's incredible installation this spring and summer at the former Domino Sugar factory in Williamsburg. For two months, at no charge (other than the price of standing in a reliably blocks-long line), the public could visit "A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby, an Homage to the upaid and overworked Artisans who have refined our Sweet tastes from the cane fields to the Kitchens of the New World on the Occasion of the demolition of the Domino Sugar Refining Plant."

Entrance to Walker's installation at the Domino Sugar storage shed

Using the soon-to-be-demolished sugar storage shed as an integral actor, Ms. Walker's immense exhibition drew on centuries of the sugar trade's ugly history to explore themes of oppression, exploitation, stereotypes and the objectification of African-American bodies. Dark walls caked with decades of molasses residue, resembling stalactites, imbued the cavernous space with an overpowering scent of sweetness. Light streamed in from clerestories high overhead to illuminate Walker's focal point, a 75-foot-long by 35-foot-high sphinx fashioned from polystyrene coated in bleached sugar. Lording over the warehouse, the head of the sphinx took cues from imagery of the Mamie stereotype of America's not-so-distant past. Her body represented an exaggeration of the overtly sexualized objectification of black women, a depressingly familiar presence in contemporary popular culture, but just the latest strand in a thread that can be traced back hundreds of years. After a month and a half of existence, the sphinx showed signs of discoloration due to sun, leaks in the roof and exposure to hundreds of visitors per day.

Scattered throughout the warehouse and around the base of the sphinx, were molasses statues of children carrying baskets of raw sugar. By the time of our visit, near the end of the show's two-month run, the sculptures were found in various states of decay. Sticky puddles of melted molasses had formed around the children--on the floor, on walls; in low light, one could be forgiven for mistaking the result for pools of blood. The head of one figure had separated from its body, left to melt on the ground.

The show's ephemeral and evolutionary nature gave it a powerful sense of vitality and urgency. Its transience also instilled the feeling that the characters that composed its whole were decaying, and along with the institution that birthed and contained them, would soon be lost to history. But the remarkable impression left by Walker's show will not soon be forgotten.

Attention: Jean Paul Gaultier is Leaving the Building

This marks the final day of a truly amazing exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum. The sprawling collection of the work of Jean Paul Gaultier--perhaps best known to laypeople like me for his collaborations with Madonna--is not to be missed if you happen to be in town today (and are willing to deal with crowds). Representing a trajectory spanning more than three decades of design, the show is a fascinating look at what has driven the French fashion icon's art--from childhood inspiration to political and gender subversion. To my surprise, an hour and a half was not enough time for more than a cursory survey of the thoughtfully curated, narrative-driven exhibition. Among the high points for me was an up-close look at the exquisitely creative details through which the ensembles were constructed. As a point of emphasis, most of the outfits were accompanied by placards listing the number of hours each piece took to fabricate. Some of them were painstakingly created over the course of more than 1,000 hours. Photos of the exhibition follow, including a couple of clips of a very eery facial projection technique used to accessorize several of the mannequins, including one of Gaultier himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Auld Lang Steam (Better Late than Never)

A month ago today, perhaps for one of the last times, the old steam whistles signaled the New Year on the Pratt Institute campus in Brooklyn. Each year since 1965, Pratt's Chief Engineer, Conrad Milster, has orchestrated the event with his personal collection of historic steam whistles, powered by the nearby steam plant. Despite a temperature in the mid-20s, a sizable crowd turned out to take part--many taking the opportunity to blow the whistles themselves after the clock struck midnight. Here's the scene we encountered when we arrived a couple of minutes into 2014:



One set of whistles was operated by a system of ropes, each paired with a whistle to open a steam valve. Meanwhile, a Casio keyboard controlled another ensemble of whistles. Naturally, revelers took turns stepping to the plate for industrial renditions of "Chopsticks" and "The Knuckle Song."

A few of the Institute's engineers were on hand to operate, supervise and answer questions. You can tell which one is the engineer, as most of the rest of us were too dumb to wear hearing protection. If I remember correctly, this gentleman has been working at Pratt--and in the power plant--since 1963.

In addition to the musical celebration outside, Pratt opened its steam plant for tours. Though no longer in service to the campus-at-large, the plant is still operational. In fact, it is "the oldest continuously-operating, privately-owned, steam-powered electrical generating plant in the country." In 1977, the plant was designated as a National Historic Mechanical Engineering Landmark.  For the occasion, Mr. Milster prepared a fascinating history of the power plant and its equipment. Of course, it also fed the whistles for the night, and--importantly--provided a warm and merry respite for the revelers. Laypeople like us were allowed to roam (pack) the upper mezzanine, illuminated by festive holiday lighting. Meanwhile, engineering students gallivanted about the lower level, checking up (geeking out) on the the steam engines at the heart of the evening's operation.

The switchboard inside the steam plant

Finally, a closer look at one of the engines at work:



If you are in or near Brooklyn next New Year's Eve, I wholeheartedly recommend that you make the effort--and brave the weather--to experience this wildly unique celebration firsthand. It might be the last chance any of us will have.

Patterned Landscape

Views from a recent flight from NYC to CHI...

Photo of the Day: Heads Will Roll

Dress form in window of Ye Olde Good Things, Manhattan

Photo of the Day: Love is Patient

Photo of the Day: Fire on the Brooklyn Bridge

This morning, Blue and I were caught by surprise by a cloud of black smoke billowing from the Brooklyn Bridge. Evidently, a car fire brought eastbound traffic to a halt for about an hour and a half. Fortunately, no injuries were reported.

Mermaid Parade 2013: A Photo Diary

Parade-goers await the F Train in Coney Island

It started when we boarded an unusually crowded F car in downtown Brooklyn, and grew with each stop. Purple wigs, sequined pants, body glitter, outlandish suits, almost-birthday suits. When a resplendent group of twenty-somethings broke into a boisterous sing-a-long of "Build Me Up Buttercup," we knew we were on our way... to Coney Island, USA.

Last Saturday marked the 30th Anniversary of Coney Island's beloved Mermaid Parade, an annual tradition celebrating the Summer solstice, which invokes the festive and uninhibited spirit of Mardi Gras. In this, my seventh summer in New York, I finally made the leap with Maura to witness the revelry firsthand. In the wake of Superstorm Sandy, this year's parade was nearly cancelled. Thanks in no small part to the fundraising efforts of 2013's King Neptune, Judah Friedlander, the show went on. Come along for a vicarious thrill ride...

The Public Pianos of Sing For Hope: Jessica Browne-White in Greeley Square

Sing for Hope Piano in Greeley Square by Jessica Browne-White

For a few more days, the five boroughs will play host to the third incarnation of a delightful public art project imagined by Sing for Hope, a nonprofit established to mobilize artists as agents of change in communities in need. Through Sunday, 88 pianos--each transformed by a different artist--are enlivening streets, parks, plazas and sidewalks throughout the city. Once the citywide exhibition runs its course, the pianos will find permanent homes in an assortment of schools, community centers and healthcare facilities. A map of pianos can be found on the organization's website. Take a look and take a walk--you never know when you might catch lightning in a bottle. Passersby of all stripes are prone to take a seat and take a shot--students, children, tourists. Anthony Tommasini, the New York Times' classical music critic, took it upon himself to sample several around the city, documenting his experiences in this enjoyable piece (with accompanying video) a few days ago.

Passing through Greeley Square (near Macy's) yesterday, I caught a glimpse of one of the pianos in action, witnessing the tail end of a performance by what appeared to be a group of Sing for Hope volunteers.

Today I returned with a sack lunch to examine Jessica Browne-White's vibrant contribution to the public art project. The three-dimensional painted "dreamscape" incorporates several faces cast from participants in an after-school Shakespeare program in Brooklyn. The figures swim across and emerge from the composition, equal parts optimism and despair, depending on one's frame of mind--or perhaps dependent on whether the piece stands in stoic isolation or surrounded by gleeful teenagers. A closer look at Browne-White's creation...