Your Blind Passenger

Hold your hand in front of your face, no really- do it. Can you see you hand clearly? All fingers there? If you were in Olafur Eliasson's Din Blinden Passager (Your Blind Passenger) you wouldn't. You might be able to find a blurry distant outline, but I wouldn't count on it.
The only museum I wanted to go to was the Arken because I had heard from my travel buddies that it was hosting an Olafur piece, and since I'm big into his work I knew I had to check it out.
We entered this box which brought us into a dark black room with a door on the other end. Once we were all inside we opened the next door- which led us into the tunnel...

The doors opened into a blinding light and fog/mist. I heard someone say as the fog envolped them that they could use some sunscreen and sunnies. Charley and I were the last ones to enter and almost at once Charley disappeared into the fog. I found myself utterly alone, which was terrifying. But only for a moment. We were in, all actuality, very close to each other but it was impossible to tell unless we spoke. It was also impossible to say where the walls were, and which in direction we were walking. Our senses were completely out of whack, totally on edge and going haywire, which was exactly the point.

(us on the outside, walking the length of the piece)

We slowly started our 90 meter journey to the other end of Eliasson's fog tunnel. Quite suddenly, and yet subtly, it came to our attention that the color was changing. We were now in a yellow tunnel instead of a white one. And then orange. For a moment, as we walked, we were plunged into total black, and emerged on the other side in this most peculiar orange that did a number on my eyes because I kept seeing flashes of pink. I felt like I was tripping. There was no way to see ahead as to what color might be next approaching. We were at the mercy of the whims of the tunnel.
The colors blended so seamlessly together it was hard to tell where one color stopped and then next began, we just knew there was something all together different. What I found fascinating is everyone I was with saw Blue and Purple, however I did not see those colors at all. Yet we were all in the same tunnel.
Because we would probably never have another chance to experience the tunnel again, before we were done at the Arken Museum we walked through it again. This time from back to front. We stumbled out the end, blinking our eyes against the natural light of the museum and crashed on the steps to recuperate from a total sensory overload-AKA top ten art piece ever.
Man, it was really special to see Olafur's work in his home country. What an amazing piece it was!

Note: I really wanted to upload a longer video (with me saying quite a few times "I feel like I'm tripping," but I was really having problems.

Shake a Spear in the Park

Bridget, who is near and dear to me as we've been pals since I was erroneously calling her Brittany way back in the 7th grade, hosted her second annual Shakespeare Picnic in Central Park, and it was a resounding success! Festivities included eating, drinking, reading and performing the good man's work, and wearing white (which I failed at, as it turns out I don't own white clothes). There were also two rounds of "Who's On Your Face?" which Bridget might not have been so happy about if she knew she had the Biebs hanging out on her forehead.Bri and her roommate and co-host, Brooke, amped us all up through really well written and witty emails in ..kinda-Shakespeare-english.
Below-a sampling!

Dear fair maids and squires of the greater New York metro area,

But one annum has not yet passed since our last foray into the great art of picnic, and yet the summer wanes, bringing us, yet again, to our favorite time of year. We invite you most heartily to join us from noon until dusk in Central Park to continue our grand tradition with the Second Annual Shakespeare Picnic in the Park.*

For those of you new to what can only be described as the literary event of the season, some history is in order. It all started with the opening scene of Much Ado About Nothing. As we watched the white-clad Messinians lounging on a hillside, drinking wine, painting, and reading poetry, we asked ourselves "Doesn't that sound like fun?" And answered with a resounding "Aye!"

Bernard enjoying the festivities and chillaxing. It was really just one of those great days.This year Barbara and I were asked to redo our rendition of the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Her "english" accent always sounds like she's dying and I always laugh. We're not too good at acting. Kelly and Brooke (above) are much better.

Tie Dying

Rebecca is one of those fantastic ladies who while sometimes takes a wild ride on the train to crazy town, most of the time its a good kind of crazy. She's always making. She's a maker of things. If you want to feel inspired, watch her finger some new fabric she's just bought, or pull out plastic baggies filled with different kinds of beads and talk about its potential, her plans for its future. The best part is unlike most, she follows through. If you stop by a few weeks later, you can see the finished product, a gorgeous skirt, or a stunning necklace. There is no bullshitting in Reboc's world.
She decided that the latest thing of interest, besides learning French (she's in Paris right now, don't you know? Avoir l'amusement ? Tu me manques! Et dites bonjour a Agathe pour moi!), is learning how to tie dye. She invited her "besties" over for a day of fun in the sun and Avatar-blue hands.
When I got on the roof I was, admittedly, a few minutes (or an hour) late. But this is how I roll. Everyone was already tying up their tee shirts and pillow cases into little cloth sculptures in order to block the dye and control the pattern. We soaked them in a bath to prepare them for dying.
There were two kinds of dying to try out:
Tom here is doing an indigo bath, which I didn't realize wasn't just dying something blue. I learned that it actually needs to oxidize in order to achieve the correct color. When placing your garment in the bucket to dye it cannot be moved because that will introduce air into the mixture and oxidize the bath. It also cannot touch the bottom because some of the chemicals will have settled to the bottom and I guess its better to leave them undisturbed.
After the garment comes out of the indigo bath we laid them out to dry on this plastic sheeting. The pieces actually came out this awesome neon green and then we WATCHED them turn blue as the air activated the indigo. HOW COOL IS THAT?! Some of us lamented that we wished we could hold on to that great green color to which Rebecca replied "Its indigo, get over it!"
Jon tried out the other kind of dying, which is your more garden variety, sleep away camp style tie dye. We had a reddish purpleish and a yellow to play around with.
While we waited for our clothes to accept the dyes the sky put on a magnificent show for us.
And one trip to the laundromat later, we were Tie Dye Champions!
Oh yeah, I cut my hair. Its actually been short for a while, and check it, there's some pink in there too.
All in all this was a most fun day of making and hanging and drinking beers- and summer's not quite over so GET ON IT!

Camp Lo

One day, way back when snow was still on the ground, I got an email asking me to come to Camp Lo from Terry, my Boston pal. Not really knowing the fuck Camp Lo was I inquired and I got this email responding to my inquiry-

hey nora,

camp lo is the best time of the year.

charlie or ashley never told you about it?

you should come... seriously,

terry-

So Camp Lo was to remain shrouded in mystery...
After some back and forth with Charley and Jersey (no one I know calls her Ashley...) I figured out it was like a sleep away camp for "grown ups" complete with an arts and crafts table, boating, tubing, hiking, and drinking. Lots of that.
And then I forgot because snow and cold doesn't make me want to leave my well heated apt and think about living on an island on Lake George.

Fast forward several months- the gang's all here, in size order, on a dock.... waiiitttinngg for the mystery boat to pick us up with our gear.
The prep email we all received said something to the effect of
"You don't have to call, just be there by 4 and you'll get on the boat. If you miss the last boat, you don't get to come to the island until the next day."
To pass the time Charley had the really awful idea of playing badminton with himself right on the edge of the dock.
45 minutes later we decided to call.
And our trip was able to begin! Being a city gal, getting on a boat to get to an island where there is nothing really like civilization at all is really exotic. Even if is only a ten minute boat ride tops. And a walkie talkie. And iPods.
The NYC kids (us) were supposed to be on clean up duty after dinner, but I missed the memo and came too late to really help. I contributed by taking photos of Babs cleaning the skillet. She seemed to be having such a good time I didn't want to impede on her fun.
And later that night we played round after round of 13-person-teamed Flip Cup. It was my third time playing. Ever.
I loved it!
We must have played close to 10 rounds of the game. My team won all but 9 of them.
(see what I did there?)
The next day it RAINED every single moment. This didn't stop anyone from going on a boat, tubing, or swimming in the lake. The weather just contributed to making me sleepy as fuck, resulting in the most EPIC NAP EVER! Now that's what I call vacation.
Babs made her beer can carpet all by herself! Babs also loves skull caps and Joe Boxer bathing suits.
And any favorite rainy day activity- FACE PAINTING TIME! By the time I left most ladies had facial hair. Its tres chic indeed.

The Invisible Dog

The Invisible Dog, a gallery located on 51 Bergen Street, is really the something special the neib needed. Their story goes as such- the space was a factory, as were many on this particular block (I remember as a very young child walking past the cheese factory everyday on the way to school- and it smelling exactly how you would expect a cheese factory to smell, like kinda/almost good, and really smelly. This factory doesn't exist anymore, someone now lives where it once stood. I often muse to myself as I walk by "Does the space still smell like cheese inside...?") and this factory made many goods, but as the economy and the landscape of manufacturing changed the only thing the factory continued to produce, up until 2006, was those invisible dog leashes that you can buy at Disneyworld. Improv Everywhere used the leftover leashes for a fantastic and good humored prank a little under a year ago.
Now the factory is a wonderfully patina'd gallery space, hosting some really fantastic work. On the first floor was a mish mosh of all different kinds of work. I don't know if it was the space, the installation, or the curation- probably a combination of all three, but even though the works were not cohesive, it worked viewing them all together.

Off to the side was a nice group of work made out of old metro cards. This one I thought was particularly good advice:

One of the windows had a small step ladder, and I was up for a mini adventure-It led to a bizarre garden space.
I fell in love with this lamp, and the wall in which it was hung- and the mossy neglect. I know neglect is a word that usually has a negative meaning, but I felt there was no better way to show off the beauty of this wall than to leave it alone for many seasons. Let the Spring water find its ways into the cracks, and the freezing Winter chill expand the water droplets, growing the cracks, let the Fall spores find good, solid homes in the nooks and the Summer heat nurture the moss and the mold.
Somewhere inside me a hippie poet is fighting to get out.
And since we're talking about old relics, check out this sign I spotted on the way to third floor. Obviously from days of yore.

MOMO

Last Thursday I headed over to the Invisible Dog gallery to check out the work of MOMO, or, as he was named, Maurice Maréchal. I've walked by the Invisible Dog gallery plenty of times, but this was the first time I ever went inside.
It was really a phenomenal space, and as with most things that appeal to my aesthetic preferences it was cleaned up just enough to have people and art inside- but the bones of what it used to be, the beautiful patina of years of use as a factory was still ever present. What a perfect host for art! I have a whole post planned on the Invisible Dog, so for right now- on to zee art!
There was framed work on every starkly painted wall. The tactile quality of the work sang inside the Invisible Dog's bare bones post-factory interior- thick gobs of paint created undulating paintscapes upon old ledger pages and found objects like sheets of old, oil stained butcher paper and tree leaves preserved by a glossy shellac found homes on the page. The work was emotional, textured, joyous and painful all at once, it had history and told a story. And this very affecting work was mostly housed in these... generic... frames. I don't think the work was diminished because of this, but I think the pieces could have been enhanced with a different approach. I guess I came away thinking the two were a bit incongruous.
Also- I hate frames in general...
Part of what made me want to stay with each piece was the level of detail within the work.
This was in her fore arm(sorry its sideways), and this-
on her other arm.
My favorite thing in the whole gallery was MOMO's sketch book. I could have spent the whole time just loving the book. I wanted to take photos of every page, but had to restrict myself.
And again he had beautiful details hidden in the work. But I could get up close and inspect it.
I found this character doing his angry rain dance on this page-
There were also pages in the old ledger book that appealed to my interests in fashion. Being ever the girly girl I liked these explorations in lace-
And the dip dyed effect gave such a nice ombre to this neck piece-
I waited for almost two hours in this really very hot gallery for Michel Gondry to show up and kick out the jamz (which may or may not have been my impetus to go in the first place). While close to 8 there was still no sign of him- I bounced out because my legs had gotten so sweaty that they effortlessly slid against each other as though I was in a pool. NOT CUTE!
Over all- great show! I can't wait to check out what else the Invisible Dog has to offer.