BmoreArt

Am I allowed to say that the last episode of Work of Art made me feel glad all over? Not because the show’s over — although the last ten weeks have been more stressful than I ever imagined. Even though fingers have wagged at me for “interacting with the laypeople” and the L.A. Times opined that the show is “vacant television piddle,” I’m glad to have been associated with this strange chapter in the canoodling of art and popular culture. I wish I’d been more articulate and clear about why I liked and disliked certain works of art, but I’m glad that my faith in art and artists was not broken. All three of the finalists — Abdi, Miles, and Peregrine — came though and made shows that could have been seen in any respectable New York gallery. I’m even glad that the Brooklyn Museum, though much disparaged for it — even by me — risked giving one of these artists a chance. Haters will say that all this was just a train wreck. Whatever it was, somehow life occasionally managed to break into this “reality.”

That life was in this episode. The three finalists were each given $5,000 and three months to do anything they wanted. Each mounted this show in the beautiful spaces of Phillips de Pury (nice digs, Simon). For me this episode was fun to shoot. I was happy to be in the land of free finger food one last time (there’s a fleeting shot of me tasting one of Peregrine’s sculptures — d’oh!). Previous contestants were there, but pussy talk was absent: Erik didn’t brand Miles an “art pussy,” and Judith didn’t call Jaclyn a “proud pussy.” Nao, who should be given her own TV show, could be seen wearing a red parrot thing on her shoulder.

As a typical navel-gazing New Yorker, I was glad to see artists working and thriving outside our little island. My two favorite shots of the season were Simon kissing the hands of Abdi’s and Miles’ moms. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such complex body language as when this aristocratic peacock all but clicked his heels and bowed, while the moms either swooned or prepared to slap him. Getting peeks into the artists’ lives helped make them more dimensional, less like “vapid” cartoon characters. Peregrine is married to a wonderful jazz musician; they live in Kansas City, MO. They make and play these Hieronymus Bosch-like musical instruments. Her studio was large and beautiful and might have made some New York artists envious. Her worked looked magical to me. Peregrine’s circus-mind had finally run wild with pink pile-up sculptures of butterflies and zebras. While her work still echoed nineties “Scatter Art,” she made three-dimensional fairy tales, showed tremendous range in her color and intelligence with materials. Her picture of twin dead fawns made China, Jeannie, guest judge David LaChapelle, and even Peregrine herself cry. This picture has real internal content and external energy.

To read the rest, go to: http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/08/jerry_saltzs_work_of_art_final.html