Tosh on "The Strange World of Willie Seabrook" by Marjorie Worthington (Spurl Editions)

 

Tosh on "The Strange World of Willie Seabrook" by Marjorie Worthington

My Fascination with Lee Miller by Tosh Berman

 

My Fascination with Lee Miller

WILLIAM N. COPLEY: SELECTED WRITINGS edited by Anhony Atlas (Walther König)

 

WILLIAM N. COPLEY: SELECTED WRITINGS edited by Anthony Atlas (Walther König) ISBN: 978-96098-776-5

I know the name of William N. Copley (1919-1996) as a gallerist in Los Angeles during the late 1940s who focused on Surrealist art. Copley Galleries were the first to focus on the paintings and sculptures of Man Ray and do the first Joseph Cornell exhibition in Los Angeles. Overall, as a business, the gallery was a failure. However, like a cat with nine-lives, Copley focused his life as a painter, but still drawn into the world of Surrealism. There is a cartoon quality to his visual work that reminds me of a colorful Krazy Kat comic strip but with a strong sense of eros. Philip Guston also comes to mind. "William N. Copley Selected Writings" is a collection of his texts. They are unique works, like his paintings, that fully express his 'fun' character.

The exceptional quality of Copley is his relationship with the old Surrealist guard. He was a younger man when he met Marcel Duchamp, Man Ray, Cornell, and Max Ernst. So, one can feel the generational difference between him and the others. Still, Copley has a wicked sense of humor that must have been a delight to the European artists. His 'American' quality to accept failure and move on is an excellent trait by Copley. As an anthology of one person's writing is all over the map, but his devotion to the world of Ernst and others never tired him. Reading this book, you get some stories over again, but the context is the key here. In a manner, Copley is an outsider. Adopted to a wealthy and influential family, he is the black sheep in the family structure. Yet, his outside view of the world is a tool for him being involved in the arts—both as an admirer or collector and artist. Copley didn't use art jargon in his essays. He's very much a journalist reporting on the facts that are in front of him. His reading audience is people who are not necessarily into the visual or literary arts. He wrote for publications such as The San Diego's Evening Tribune, Herald News from Illinois, etc. All small-time and neighborhood newspapers. His first-person accounts with Man Ray, Duchamp, and Cornell make this book a worthy read. A generous slice of cultural history as it happened. -Tosh Berman.

Tosh's Journal: August 27 (Tuesday Weld)

"Duchamp's Last Day" by Donald Shambroom (David Zwirner Books)

ISBN: 978-1-941701-87-4

If you are like me, a Marcel Duchamp fan, and one who almost purchases every book on this artist, you will need to read and own "Duchamp's Last Day" by Donald Shambroom.  It's a small book, beautifully published by David Zwirner that focuses on the last 24-hours of Duchamp on this planet on October 1, 1968.  His last day was pleasant.  He purchased some bricks for his very final and secret art project, as well as buying a book at a bookstore on Rue Saint-Germain des Pres.  He had a visit with his friend Georges Herbiet, a poet, and then later that night had dinner at Duchamp's apartment with Man Ray, his wife Juliet, Ms. Duchamp, Robert Abel, and his wife.   After dinner, Duchamp dies in the bathroom.   Ms. Duchamp calls a doctor and Man Ray to come over. Man Ray comes across with his camera equipment and takes the last photo of Duchamp.  A perfect evening!

In a sense, Shambroom discusses the thought that Duchamp's death is also a collaboration between Man Ray and the great artist.  And perhaps so, who knows, but this book is both respectful to the working habits of Duchamp and Man Ray, as well as a tribute to the Duchamp's personality and aesthetic.   I read it in my bathtub, and it's the perfect size for such a reading.  Buy, read, and enjoy. 

"The 120 Days of Sodom" by The Marquis de Sade / Translated by Will McMorran & Thomas Wynn (Penguin Classics)

ISBN: 978-0-141-39434-3

What is there not to like about the new translation of Marquis de Sade's "The 120 Days of Sodom?"  Will McMorran and Thomas Wynn translate it, and their work brings Sade's language/writing to the contemporary world.  This doesn't mean it's full of Urban language slang words, but it reads extremely well.  And oddly enough this is the first time I've read "The 120 Days of Sodom."  

What's interesting is not the sex, which of course it is a big part of the book, but the Sade organized his series of narratives that reflect on a society falling apart.  It's not precisely a turn-on type of book or even a 'dirty book,' but more of a work that deals with the structure and how it tells its tales.   On one level, it's a book that takes place in an imaginary landscape, especially regarding the castle that the action takes place. One has to walk to the location, so therefore it is highly unlikely no one will come unannounced.   Also, the four main libertines are a duke (royalty), a bishop (religion), a judge (the law) and a financier (economy).  After that, then we have groupings of family members, Harem of young girls, Harem of young boys, and Eight fuckers (all well-hung men).  It's very much a stage-set with everyone in the story playing an essential role in a social structure. 

The sex is crazed and usually exposed in a frenzy mode of action, with lots of poop offerings of all sorts.  So it demeans people which is part of the turn-on but also to expose the power system in place as well.  Or at times, playing with the 'role' of power and it plays in a sexual context.   For sure, Sade's book doesn't read like a sex book, but more of a critique of overall power, family structure, and political power.   It's a dangerous book because it works on different levels.  One as a sex book (which it is, but as mentioned not that sexy) and two, a political/social critique. 

The Penguin edition (2016) is a handsome book, with a cover image by Surrealist/DADA Man Ray, and interesting endnotes at the end of the book.  Very close to being an annotated edition, and readable.  For those who admire narratives like Anthony Burgess' "A Clockwork Orange," or even a 1960s William S. Burroughs novel, Sade's work is very much a cousin to those works.  Burroughs and Burgess expose a system in place, and Sade did that a few centuries ago.    A brilliant book that needs to stay in print forever, because like "Gulliver's Travels," "Candide," and others of that style, this is a remarkable political / social observation.  

- Tosh Berman

"Reflection on a Past Life" by William N. Copley (Walther König)

ISBN: 978-3-86335-458-9

Never heard of this little book until I went to my local (and excellent) used bookstore Alias East Books, and picked this up.  I had coffee, took the bus home, and within the hour I finished the 80 or so pages.  A remarkably charming account of the gallery year of Artist, art dealer, and American Surrealist William N. Copley AKA CPLY.  According to the book, his book had six exhibitions.  From September 9, 1948, to February 20, 1949, and then it was over. The artists he had one-man shows (none of that group show crap) of were Magritte, Joseph Cornell, Roberto Matta, Yves Tanguy, Man Ray, and Max Ernst.  Financially the gallery was a wash-out.  A total bomb.  And located in the dap of the middle of Beverly Hills, California.  So in a sense, the Copley Gallery was the pre-Ferus Gallery in the  Los Angeles area.  

Copley's charm comes through in his prose writing. He's hysterical, and his observations on his artists are both insightful, gossipy, but respectful in a guy's guy world.  Also included are a series of photos of the original installations that took place in his gallery.  This is an art dealer who loved his artists and their art. 

"Man Ray: Writings on Art" edited by Jennifer Mundy

ISBN: 978-1-60606-458-0 Getty Publications

As a kid, I loved Man Ray.  Almost the same way I loved Dali.  But, I outgrew them both.   Not like Marcel Duchamp who has consistently been an art-god to me.   What I do admire Man Ray is his brilliant photographs - especially his portraits of well-known artists and writers - as well as his more 'artful' images he took.  He was also a superb filmmaker.  The paintings, are at times great, but I feel his work was never consistent.  His sculptures I consider to be much better than his paintings as well.  Which comes to this book "Man Ray: Writings on Art," a collection of his texts that were both published and unpublished, that mostly focused on the nature of art-making, or more likely with him, his regret that he wasn't more excepted in the world of the fine arts.

Man Ray was born in Brooklyn, but moved to Paris, where he found his calling and talent at the most beautiful time in the 20th century arts.  DADA and Surrealism were right outside his door, and he participated in both groups with great intensity - yet, due to the War, he had to move back to the U.S., specifically Los Angeles - which was a mixed blessing for him.   Being an international artist in Los Angeles at that time, was sort of like being abandoned in the desert.  There was great company of European artists at the time, but he felt a great distance from Paris - and as he had mentioned in his writings and in conversation - New York is behind Paris, and Los Angeles is behind New York.   Still, he worked on Vine Street and produced a great deal of art as well as photos. Which ironically, he never cared for photography as an occupation.  And seemed to have a chip-on-his-shoulder regarding Photograph as an art or not.  Painting it seems was the ideal art form - but, he never was fully accepted as a painter - in the critical manner.

This book, is beautifully edited and designed.  The magazine or book lay-out's of his photos is superb as well. The editing of the text, and the commentary by Jennifer Mundy is very knowledgable as well as interesting.  The only weak link is Man Ray's actual writings.  His work overall in that field is not that interesting.   He's no Duchamp type of thinker, and mostly he is a little bit pissed off that he's not better known in America.  Still, the book has much worth as a study on 20th Art, as well as a study on DADA/Surrealist practices and aesthetics.   I remember reading Man Ray's memoir, which was very enjoyable (I read it years ago), but when he gets serious about 'art' he loses his sense of playfulness - which in actuality, is the big part of the Man Ray aesthetic.  So, do get the book (it's a beauty) and use it as a reference, but with no fault of his own, Man Ray is not that great of a commentator on the arts.  Still, there are wonderful moments in the book.  Mostly in the end of this volume, when he wrote a diary of thoughts, that is charming.   As well as one-sentence commentary on his famous sitters for their photo portraits.   So, yeah, a real mixed bag here.

"Lost Profiles: Memoirs of Cubism, DADA, and Surrealism" by Philippe Soupault, Translated by Alan Bernheimer (City Lights Books)

ISBN: 978-0-87286-727-7 City Lights Books

"Lost Profiles: Memoirs of Cubism, DADA, & Surrealism" by Philippe Soupault; translated by Alan Bernheimer

Philippe Soupault is one of my favorite writers. A member of the Surrealist world, with a touch of DADA, is a remarkable poet, as well as a prose artist. I also read his remarkable memoir of his years in the French Residence, called "Age of the Assassins" (which needs to be re-printed - NYRB please do so). "Lost Profiles" is a series of Soupault's remembrances of various friends, who happened to be iconic writers such as Apollinaire, René Crevel (underrated poet), Proust, Joyce, Georges Bernanos, Reverdy, Cendrars, and a critical essay on Baudelaire's poetry, plus an appreciation on the artist Henri Rousseau. A short and very sweet, but thoughtful book on the nature of these writers, and what makes them great. The fact that Soupault had a long life, and actually knew Apollinaire and Proust is mind boggling incredible. I'm almost star-struck just by reading this book. Beautifully translated by the poet Alan Bernheimer, with an introduction by Mark Polizzotti and an afterword by Ron Padgett, this is basically a must- read for those who have an interest in the European avant-garde of the early 20th century.

Philippe Soupault, photographed by Man Ray

Eva Hesse by Tosh Berman

German born, Jewish and of course, had to be on the move during her childhood in the 1940s, Eva Hesse lived an intense short life. She died at the age of 34. Yet she is the gift that keeps on giving.   Like my other favorite artist, Yves Klein, who also died at the age of 34.  Both artists, when I look at their work, deals with life as a force to reckon with - it’s not about early death, but living life intensely and correctly.  That word “correctly” has a moral tinge to it, and I don’t mean it in that sense.  For these two artists, there were choices in front of them, and both made the correct decisions.  Hesse had a rather odd and complicated family life - a manic - depressive mother including a step-mom who had the same name as her, but also suffered from brain cancer.  Apparently within weeks of Hesse’s actual illness. 

Hesse worked in the medium of paint, but also did sculptures using latex, fiberglass, and plastics.  There is for sure a substantial argument for and against the lasting of the material she used in her art work, but I feel Hesse knew her art pieces wouldn’t last forever due to the material she chose for her sculptures.  There’s a beauty in thought, knowing what you leave on this mortal earth will not last.   I often think of her sculptures in that light.  There are two works of art displayed in the current exhibition “Revolution in the Making” at Hauser Wirth & Schimmel by Hesse. 

Eva Hesse "Aught"

“Aught” is four canvases with latex and filler stretched over it.  The photograph here (images give a hint of an artwork, but one really needs to see certain works in person) doesn’t show the fragility of the work.   Each canvas is different from the other.  Either by coloration or the aging of the work.  I could be wrong, but the four individual pieces that make up this work of art, I think, would have been identical, at the time they were made.  

Marcel Duchamp’s famous large glass art piece, covered by dust, and photographed by Man Ray is another work, that comments on time and how it affects art.   Not exactly a decay in the same sense of Hesse’s work, but the awareness of the passing of time, and to me, an obvious reflection or meditation.  It seems, when you read about her, Hesse’s life must have been difficult - yet the work she produced, is to me, a delight.  “Aught” changes over time, and that is what makes the work so powerful and beautiful.  Yet, it’s a work that needs to be re-visited many times.   The show has been up for four months already, so I come back to “Aught” repeatedly, and I feel each time I look at it, there is some sort of change - which I suspect it is more how I look at an object or art, but nevertheless, there is something about it that changes.  I imagine if you’re the owner, you can look at this work on a consistent basis for decades, noticing a change here or there - but for us (the others) we can only see it for short periods of time.  So with respect of time passing, it is not our time that is going by, but the work itself that is commenting on that passage from one point to another.  

Eva Hesse "Augment" 

“Augment” is a funny title for the other piece that is in the exhibition.  It’s layers of latex canvases that are laid on the floor on top of each other.   It’s a beautiful piece of sculpture, but it reads like a painting to me.  I think due to its flatness, but it is 17 units or individual pieces that make up “Augment.” I don’t see this work as a passage of time, or dealing with decay -but more of a design that is somewhat hypnotic, and for some odd (unexplained) reason reminds me of layers of bacon on a plate.  And although I do not eat bacon, I think the bacon itself is a beautiful looking meat.  Yet, it’s the repetition of the pieces that give it a funny aspect, where one approaches this work as almost like slices of a whole bread loaf.  There is a natural or environmental aspect of the work, but I don’t feel that is the intention.  I think it’s more of the fact that it exists, and that is the sole purpose of this work.   Seeing layers of the same thing is kind of funny in an absurd manner.  I read an interview with Hesse, that is in the “October Files” series, where she mentioned that repetition in her work is - “Because it exaggerates. If something is meaningful, maybe it’s more meaningful said ten times. It’s not just an aesthetic choice. If something is absurd, it’s much more really exaggerated, absurd, if it’s repeated.” So, “Augment” works in that absurdity, but it is also a pleasure for the eye.  It relaxes me, and perhaps it the repetition of seeing the same object over and over again, that gives me such contentment.   “Augment” and “Aught” are separate works, but they are also a brother and sister or two sisters - nevertheless, it’s in the same family.  It was shown together only once in 1968, and this is the first time in 48 years that these two pieces have been rejoined, for this specific exhibition at Hauser, Wirth & Schimmel.  Artworks in a room tend to have a dialogue between themselves, and if you look, one can make connections between the two pieces.  “Aught” can mean ought, which suggests a sense of duty or responsibility.   “Augment” is making something greater, by adding to it.  So “Aught is four individual pieces hanging on the wall, and then finally on the ground you get 17 pieces which make up “Augment.” The visual and word pun is Duchampian in a sense, but it also plays with the concept that ‘more is better than less.’ 

As I mentioned, I’m often drawn to the Eva Hesse works in this exhibition, because it  suits my hungry eye, but also there is something provocative  and funny about these two works - and now that they are together, I feel a bit more of a whole person.  Perhaps, you will feel the same.   

"A Brief History of Portable Literature" by Enrique Vila-Matas

Another superb book by Enrique Vila-Matas. At the moment, he can do no wrong. This short little novel is the 20th century version of Marvel Comics 'The Avengers or DC comic's "The Justice League of America." What we have here is a secretive group called the Shandies, that consists of Marcel Duchamp, Georgia O'Keefe, Man Ray, and other great "modern" literary figures who meets up in distant cities as well as even in a submarine, to discuss literature. Literature that is based on the assumption of portable literature. Sort of the same nature as Duchamp's portable museum or inventory of his art work in a suitcase. Vila-Matas has an incredible imagination, but based on real people and real events. He specializes in re-writing literary history to his own liking. Right now, I think he is the most essential author. But to be honest, it is because he touches on all stuff that Ihave an interest in. Which is literature, books, and their authors. Especially the good ones.

November 11, 2014

November 11, 2014

“I came into the world very young, in an age that was very old.” Now that I’m old I remember when I was younger and I was told: “You’ll see, when you’re fifty.  I am fifty and I haven’t seen a thing.” With that in mind I was approached to appear in a film, as well as write the music to accompany the images.  I have been a piano teacher for the majority of my life - mostly instructing young children, in the hopes of bringing some culture in their lives.  Usually I find my own version of culture by drinking at the nearby bars, that time-to-time will allow me to use their piano, to work out some composition ideals.  I do have a piano in my living quarters, but numerous friends of mine successfully took the piano and put it upside down.  I don’t have the strength to lift the piano of course, and nor do I really have good friends to assist me.  In fact, I don’t have any friends.   I have nothing.  Except the skill in writing melodies and playing the piano.  Beyond that - nothing.

I met a painter by the name of Francis, who is friendly with me.  He told me “Good taste is as tiring as good company, ” which explains why he likes to hang out with me.    We seemed to be compatible in ways, that work out in my favor. For one, he’s rich, and I’m not.  Therefore he takes me out for an evening of drinking, and I like to drink.  So in that sense, we get along really well.  It was at one of these drinking sessions where he took a piece of paper out of his pocket and told me that this was a film script.  I was looking at it and it looked like poetry.  “Are you filming poetry?” He said to me “if you’re in the film, it will be poetry.” He then asked me to write the score for the film as well.  As he was paying my bar bill, it wouldn’t have been polite to turn him down, and I said “yes.”

A week later he picked me up from my little apartment (with the piano still placed upside down) and took me to a neighborhood that I wasn’t familiar with - and on to the roof top of a tenant building.  That is when I met the film director René, whom I found out that this was his first job as a director.   He and Francis introduced me to a professional chess player by the name of Marcel and his friend Man Ray, which I will always remember because of the weirdness of his name.   I sort of know him through others, because he’s a photographer, and some gossiped to me that he sells naked pictures of girls on the street - but I can’t tell if that is a male fantasy or truth.   These guys are professional bachelors - and they play with females like if Rome was on fire.

I read the poetry (the script) and was told by Francis that this is actually a part of a theater piece - which again, they want me to write the music for as well.  The film will serve as an intermission entertainment between the theater acts.  This seemed highly ambitious in my opinion, but there is payment at the end of the carrot stick - paid by my best friend Francis.  And again, with this specific friendship, the word “no” is not allowed in this context of our relationship.   The one person who I met on the set that really impressed me, and sort of reminded me of myself when I was younger is a stand-up comedian by the name of Theodore.   He had strange logic, but when you chatted with him, he made complete sense.  He told me this: “What do we know about the beyond? Do we know what’s behind the beyond?  I’m afraid some of us hardly know what’s beyond the behind. “ This, I think is quite profound.

They had me dressed as a female ballet dancer, which was awkward, but my favorite part of the filming is the scene with me and Francis lighting a canon on the rooftop.  René told us to leap towards the canon, and what they intend to do is make the actions very slow motion.   The theme or the narrative of this film appears to be about a funeral march, where the corpse becomes alive in the end.   Which seems very opportunistic to me, yet when the film was screened during the ballet “Relāche” it caused a mini-riot.  Mini because it was actually me and Francis that stood up and booed.  I don’t know why we did that.  We were both drunk at the time.  “In this best of all possible worlds, everything is in a hell of a mess. ”

August 27, 2014

August 27, 2014

They are having a double-bill at the Beverly theater tonight, showing “Rock, Rock, Rock” and “Play It As It Lays.” Both films starring Tuesday Weld, who I first saw in the TV show “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.” To this day the perfect little squeeze for me.   I have a tendency to date women who look like Tuesday, because she’s my ideal beauty.  There’s the icy blonde, and then there is the blonde who can raise the temperature of your coffee, just by being there in that room.  There is something vulnerable about her, and I imagine that she is socially awkward in social gatherings.  I can see myself parked in a car by her apartment, and talking about things with her.  I would want to embrace her, but I know that would be wrong.  Well, this is all in my head.  Nevertheless I have had relationships with women who very much look like Tuesday.

Each man has their “type” and where that comes from is a very mysterious place.  To be honest, my feelings for that type are always visual to me.  It is not due to if she’s smart or interesting, but more to do with the thickness of her lips, and how her blonde hair flows over her eyes or not.  My obsession once hit a peak, when I was going on a date with a girl who had dark hair.  I bought her a blonde wig, and asked her to watch various Tuesday films, to see if she could imitate her.  The fact that she’s “fake” made the sex with her very exciting to me. Of course a relationship like that, can’t possibly last long.  But for me, it is not just the length of time, but the quality - and even now, when I think back, I smile.

Having this private obsession, I tend to ‘smell’ out others who may share my obsession with a certain type of woman.  I don’t have any serious money, but I like to collect art books by Man Ray.  Both his sculptures, paintings and especially his photographs.   But to be honest what I love most about him is his taste of women.   Lee Miller, Kiki, and of course his wife was all beautiful, and more than that, incredibly sexy.  Over the years I have purchased books with respect to his photography, and I cut out the images of women he photographed.  I would think that he had sexual relationship with every girl he photographed, no?   What I did was to collect the images and put it in a scrapbook, that I hand-made by myself.  Whenever I look through this scrapbook, I would get such an erotic charge. It is like the image is coming off the paper and grabbing my genitals.

Also I was intrigued by Man Ray, because in a sense he made his character up.  I find that fascinating especially when you throw in sexual identity in the mix.  I often wonder if I made up my desire for Tuesday Weld, or it somehow came naturally, which thinking now, must be impossible.  I’m intrigued by people who go out with the same looking people, or they have a precise physical requirement - for instance they must be blonde or redhead and so forth.  I don’t know where or when my identity started. I don’t think it came naturally. It was more of a choice of some sort.  But where did that ability to make choices come from?

Like Man Ray, I also take an interest in mechanics and how things can work.  As a hobby I made myself a rhythmicon, which is basically the first electronic drum machine.  The composer Henry Cowell invented it with Léon Theremin, with the hopes of using it for his music.   It can use 16 different rhythms and I find it fascinating to build something from nothing and then having it become something. Imagination can lead one to new ways of looking at the world, yet I didn’t alter the machine whosoever.  I kept the same model as Cowell and Theremin, because I wanted to be in their shoes.  I didn’t want something that I made-up, but borrowed.  For me, desire is what I know.  The more I know it, the more control I have over it. I’m going to enjoy the Tueday Weld double-bill.