In Which Art Kicks My Butt and I Meet a Pair of American Vagrants

So, last night I found out that I'll be directing one of our July/August shows. I am stoked about this. Auditions will be tomorrow, and I am going to have lots of fun making my co-workers do all sorts of wacky stuff (not solely for my own amusement, I assure you).

Tuesday I was off, and having no plans, I decided to do a little exploring in my very own 'hood. Across the street from English Village, nestled in what turns out to be a relatively sizable area between many rolling hills, is the Heyri Art Valley. It is basically a community of artists, into which a person must be invited in order to join.


Once invited (should you accept the invitation), you must build a funky house like the one above. Many of the houses include studio space and galleries, and there are also many restaurants and cafes on the premises. It's an intriguing place, and is literally a stone's throw from EV. I went into the first gallery I saw, where, luckily for me, the proprietress spoke excellent English and told me all about the current show, by an Italian artist called Paolo Di Capua. The show was called "Stabbed Soul" and featured a number of very minimal steel-woven-into-steel, relief-style pieces (all praise the hyphen).


The largest, and most moving piece is pictured above. I wasn't really supposed to photograph it, but as you are aware, I am a hot-blooded rebel. The photo doesn't really do it justice anyhow. Maybe I'm an easy sell, but it caused me physical pain to look at this work. It seemed to me too accurate a representation of how it feels when something awful is tearing you apart inside. Just when you think you can deal with what you've been dealt, you get hit at another angle or in another way. In any event, way to go Mr. Di Capua, you successfully shook my psyche.


After visiting the gallery (called "Moa gallery"), I stopped in at this nifty little cafe, had a latte and read. I am currently reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. It is good, but I may have to restrict my reading of it to the privacy of my home, as it keeps nearly causing me to cry in public.


Here is a little self portrait I took in the wall of one of the gallery-buildings while wandering around.


There were also some interesting works outside, such as the school of floating fish, to which this fellow belongs.

My favorite show was by a Korean artist called Kim Joon. His installation, "Party" comprises a bunch of incredible digital prints. These prints are strange bodies made up of random body parts that seem to be formed with leather or cloth-like textures. Everything is covered in easily-recognizable patterns by famous fashion designers. I decided not to live on the edge and photograph these works, but I wish I could explain them with more clarity and accuracy. I was blown away, and am really tempted to contact the artist and find out how much some of the pieces cost. I'm sure they are out of my price range, but it couldn't hurt to ask... I'd like to learn more about his process as well.

I definitely want to go back to Heyri on a more regular basis. It's a great place to explore. And there is a book store with a small selection of English books.

After Heyri, I came home and talked to Rebecca. We (well, mostly she) pounded out a tentative itinerary for my upcoming visit to Israel. I am intensely looking forward to my trip, and feeling really lucky to have great friends to plan and set up things for me. It will be so good to see my girls and to float around in the dead sea. Rest assured I'll write all about it after the fact.

On Monday I went to Seoul for my language exchange. I ran into my friend Pauline (from South Africa) on the way in. She was headed for a voice lesson. When I return from my trip I am planning to take lesson's from her teacher as well. That way, we'll be able to travel in together, and my Mondays will be packed with productive action. Anyhow, Pauline and I decided to meet up and go see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie after our respective engagements. When I met up with Pauline, she had found a couple of interesting American lads. One was a male stripper, and the other fights in a cage and operates hot air balloons for a living. I don't remember their names, but I do remember the names of the friends they mentioned who didn't end up coming along: Dirty and Bird. Seriously, where do these people come from? Oh wait, Arizona. They were the kind of people who make you a little embarrassed to be American. They were, however, refreshingly unpretentious, and it was interesting to spend a few hours with the sort of people I wouldn't really seek out on my own. The pirate movie, incidentally, was mostly dumb. Ah well.