Palm Springs Modernism Week ended on Sunday, and since all the spots on the Lautner House tour had been snatched six months ago, I found myself in the lobby of the Horizon Hotel seeking shade from the desert sun. The advertised exhibition was just a small collection of photographs, many of them without listed artistic credits. Two photos were listed as the work of Julius Schulman, who took interior shots of the hotel shortly after its opening in 1953. “Horizon Lines: Modernism Week in Palm Springs”→
I saw this Niki Minaj video this morning and felt some untenable connection to Ryan Trecartin’s work. I think it’s a sonic thing — the visuals here are tame, even by Minaj standards — but there are these moments where one realizes that the bulk of the lyrics are “You a stupid ho,” repeated ad nauseum.
Graphite is pleased to present it’s first ever Valentine’s Day Mixtape Complilation! I asked our staff to share their favorite love songs — profound declarations, sentimental goodbyes, existential musings, and pure lust — these are but a fraction of that sweet cherry pie we all share and express. And while today may be read critically as a capitalist exploitation of sentimentality to sell people’s emotions back to them, at a markup (re: cards, flowers, and chocolates), and a bitter mote for those alienated from their love (single, long-distance, and otherwi1se), we hope and wish, whatever the situation on the ground, that people the world over find their second half! Videos below the jump!
I had the great fortune to be watching Superbowl XLVI’s halftime show at Faultline, a gay LA institution. The bar caters to a distinctly alternative leather crowd but maintains the status quo in a certain regard. The go-go dancers and barmen, all beautiful and tender, keep a certain distance while feigning a kind of performance of intimacy. The trance music blends through the smoke of the patio with the explicit drawings of muscular, impossible men as macho man porn unravels on mute. We’re all still gay though.
That was why, when the Giants and Patriots retreated from the field to rest a hush came over our drinks. Sean’s red shorts slowed their gyrations; he turned slowly and faced, with us, opulent spectacle. Drawn forth by a legion of hunky, greased up gladiators, Madonna, regaled as Athena, emerged from angels’ wings, flanked on either side by gorgons. Head dress gleaming gold as sunlight, her seduction rippled through our gin a strange way, I was reminded of the maniacal works of artist Mike Kelley, who passed recently. “Traditional Americana — On Mike Kelley’s Passing and Madonna at Superbowl XLVI”→
From Greenwich Village, to Midtown, then Madison Avenue & 75th, the Whitney Museum has moved around Manhattan more than your average New Yorker is likely to in a lifetime. In 2015, another location will be added to the list, but this new 200,000 square ft. space is predicted to remain as the permanent home of one of America’s foremost museums focusing on works made by artists in the United States during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. It might have to do with the fact that Pritzker Prize–winning architect Renzo Piano, the mind behind the Centre Pompidou in Paris, LACMA’s BCAM, and the Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago, will be designing what will be the largest column-free museum in New York City, rounding out at about $720 million total.
Six years ago, Louis Schalk and Jesse Vogler from the Institute of Marking and Measuring wrote a remarkably concise history of the Rectangular Survey System, detailing the 32 Initial Points – the precise locations anchoring the conceptual grid of land division in the western United States.