Author: MK

I’m in a reflective sort of mood. Recently I rented Amelie and Kieslowski’s Decalogue. I enjoyed Amelie on an aesthetic level, but couldn’t relate at all to the picture-perfectness of it all and the pat ending (of course, Amelie ends up giggling on the back of a motorcycle with the love of her life as they race around Paris). Kieslowski’s harsh but real Decalogue resonated much more deeply, and I ate up the grim Polish landscape and complicated situations the characters were in.

A week ago or so I was watching Decalogue Six, wherein a young postal worker falls in love with and spies on a promiscuous neighbour through their facing windows. A friend called, I paused the movie, and then noticed some flashing of light outside my own window. I remained seated, not thinking too much about it. The flashing continued, which finally caused me to go to my window, where I saw another friend snapping photos of my open window on Rue de la Visitation. Phone still in hand, I smiled and laughed as she continued shooting, this time allowing her to capture my face in the pictures of my open window. A few minutes later, I returned to my movie, and smothered a wry grin at the synchronicity of the moments between film and life.

Other strange synchronous moments abound. Recently, I resolved to move to Edinburgh, accepting a top secret mission (that will be made clear here shortly). I’ve begun the process of moving my life across the Atlantic, and at this time unearthed two things. In the clean up of my apartment, I discovered an old postcard that I had forgotten I had received – from Edinburgh. “hey kiddo, my postcard selection skills have very much deteriorated since I’ve eaten haggis. The Scots are ruining me!!” it reads in part. And a few days earlier, I received an email from a filmmaker/new media artist whom I don’t know, but am connected to through a mutual friend. She was born in the same city I was, spent time at a university in Montreal, and now lives in (all together now) – Edinburgh.

Not to make too much of these signs, but it did feel a little comforting and strange at the same time, having these resonances occur. If I were to stretch a little further, it might feel like reaching into the past and the future at the same time – a cinematic indulgence with Kieslowski, that reflected what felt to me to be very much a Polish sensibility, which is my ancestry, though shot through with the people in my life now, in Montreal. Followed quickly by two small interventions into my present with flashes of what my future could be. At this moment, I’ll allow myself to be captivated by coincidence.

It’s hotter than hell and I’m wasting my days with my limbs drooping in front of a fan, or dazedly people-watching on Saint-Laurent.

When I first read the short story, “Happy Hours in Pee-Pee“, it was mercilessly cold instead of hot in Montréal, yet Hillary Raphael’s descriptions of the climate in this story made me instantly recall these languid summer moments.

The piece appears on flaneur.org, a site that collects literature and photo essays that are focused on place. I once, in a lovelorn state, wrote a not-bad story about my lack of fortune with the object of my affections. The story was set in Montréal and I thought it was just place-related enough that it would do for flaneur.org. I sent it to the editor, who kindly told me that it had some nice moments but read a bit too much like a diary entry. (or a blog entry perhaps, ha ha ha). He was right. It never saw the light of day, and in the end, I’m thankful for that.

Enjoy “Happy Hours in Pee-Pee” instead.

So, these Sunday links (which aren’t really coming on Sunday anymore) are really a prod to get me to blog more often. It’s a weak premise, so I’m going to try to make it more interesting (for myself and for you) by describing more the path that got me to that link rather than very much about the link itself.

So about yesterday’s link. It all started back in 1998 or so, when I was a studying under Hugh Innis (son of the great communications theorist Harold Innis) at Ryerson University. Hugh, who once said to me, “If your Dad is Mickey Mantle don’t go into baseball”, made economics his focus and then somehow ended up teaching popular culture courses at Ryerson. In one class, he described with his usual passion a trip he had recently taken to New York City, where he visited the studio of an artist by the name of Mark Kostabi, who had christened his studio “Kostabi World”. Hugh recounted with particular glee the experience of putting a quarter into a slot so that a small window would open, and one could see the army of painters working inside on the next Kostabi paintings, for about one minute, at which time the window would shut again, awaiting the next quarter for activation. An art peep show, if you will.

Several years later, in 2003, I made my own pilgrimage to Kostabi World. The peep show window was no longer in operation, but I was welcomed into the studio and allowed to take photographs. Kostabi himself was there and dedicated my “Conversations With Kostabi” book to “Michelle from Canada”.

Just before my trip to Kostabi World, I had discovered Kostabi’s “Ask Mark Kostabi” column on artnet.com. I always viewed Kostabi as a kind of Donald Trump of the art world, being quite impressive in terms of creating a brand out of himself and spinning off so many things from his central practice. (Like Trump, he has his own television show now as well: “Name That Painting”, viewable on cable television in Manhattan and on the internet at mnn.org, Channel 34, on Wednesday nights at 9:30 EST.) The “Ask Mark Kostabi” advice column was so funny and refreshing, shifting between acrimonious banter between Kostabi and his detractors, and advice on how to “make it in the art world” to his fans.

At around the same time that I paid my visit in 2003, his column went silent. 2004 passed, and no new columns were posted. I despaired that there might be no more columns at all, and I would have to trawl the archives for quotables that made me want to laugh (instead of the usual, cry) about what it takes to be a “professional artist”.

Then this month, Kostabi posted a new column. It lacks some of the bite that previous columns have had (I encourage you to browse the archives), but this sign of life is encouraging. I look forward to columns to come. And though I’ve lost track of my old professor Hugh Innis, I wonder if he ever returned to Kostabi World and found that the peep show window was gone, or if he too reads the “Ask Mark Kostabi” columns when he can.

And so without further ado, I invite you to check out the latest Ask Mark Kostabi column.

I thought Nick Knouf’s new project, aetherspace, sounds quite interesting. It’s a wearable device that allows you to hear things that silently emit electromagnetic radiation. The project would require that the artist create sounds that represent these silent emitter objects in our environment. From his project description: “What does a cell phone sound like when it is idle in a bag?” If we don’t know, we can make it up, and you could hear these speculative sonifications when wearing the aetherspace device.
This project won an honourable mention at Ars Electronica’s The Next Idea competition this year.

P.S. Some jerk stole my New York Times from my doorstep this morning.