Grammar.police



Friday, March 12, 2004
My Big Fat Greek Art Exhibit
The WaPo profiles the insane show I helped install at the Gallery at Flashpoint, where I volunteer. It's a show featuring works all done by Greek women and heaven help me, in the hours I was there, I got my fill.

I had wound wire flowers for hours for one sculpture; half an hour before the doors opened on opening night, the artist decided to turn them into some kind of scaffolding for a vaginal video installation. One artist walked out the day before the opening and threatened to take all her work—which covered one whole wall—with her, because there was a rumor that the other women had collectively agreed that her art was shitty; we didn't know her status until she showed up at the opening in gold lame. At which point the first artist, having completed her vaginal video installation, moved into an adjoining room, took off her clothes, and invited the other artists to help her fashion a dress made completely from paper. This eventually happened, but later on, with audience participation.

The audience was overwhelmingly Greek, and I met most of them since I manned the wine bar for the actual opening. I met them, and I met them again, and again (believe it or not, Greek people will put the wine away). I even ran into the Greek artist about whom I wrote my thesis, who reminded me that to this day I am still wrong on one point of interpretation on one of her pieces from the 1970s, and that I'm not as skinny as I was in college but I look healthy so it's good I'm finally eating.

Anyway, no big picture to all of this, though my sympathies to those of you who live with easily film-worthy/stereotypical families—I have a feeling there's a lot of truth to the fiction. I'll settle for my quiet, emotionally repressed Protestant background—being around loud grandma just makes us all uncomfortable.


Your source for art-world tell-alls.