Chapter Deux, in which we see low art at the High Museum, watch shorts for too long, and drink all night yet somehow wind up so very thirsty...
It has come to my attention that there are certain rather glaring errors in the previous narrative. While the editor in me (yes, there is one, it's just that he recognizes talent when he sees it) wants to go back and update the interweb, as a newly naturalized citizen of the blogscape there are protocols to follow.
So first let me address the time issue. See, my cel phone figured out that we were in EDT, while my new computer was still a little disoriented from the strip search at LAX. So I'm looking up at the computer screen, thinking it's three hours earlier in LA (my time), when in fact it's three hours later where I actually am. Sheesh.
More corrections and annotations to come, but let's to the photographia:
The High Museum of Art. Can you see that big ol' sculpture of a human form in front?
It's all, like, made-up of human forms, man. I mean like we're all connected and making some like, larger super-being, you know?
Here's Lori and Ashley appreciating the profundity. Oh yeah! So, around 8 (I guess they had actually been in town for several hours but) Ashley and James come a-knockin' on the ol' hotel room door, and we laugh and catch up and watch dumb movies on HBO until they fall asleep and then Lori and I went out for bruphtus. Couple hours later everybody's ready to go sightseeing so we head over to the aforementioned museum.
(I was kinda goin' for that Ferris Bueller thing.)
HMA had a Chuck Close portraiture exhibit. How could I not love this guy? Takes three photographs in his life. Of what? Himself. And then, he just makes them into art through any and every method he can think of. See he draws a grid on the photograph and then puts the grid on a canvas, or a plate, or whatever else he can think of, and recreates each square. Maybe he'll make one where he paints weird abstract paisleys in each square. Or one where he exposes each square of a plate to acids for different temperatures. Or he'll make his own pulp in 80 different grays and put a different color spitball in each square. Step back from any of these, the portrait emerges, but it's about the process, baby!
Here's what I mean:
This is the first photograph he ever used for this. Evidently he had some leftover film in the camera so he turned it on himself. This giant canvas is done by pencil shadings in each of the squares of the grid.
This one is paint. If your monitor is resolute enough, you can see some of the shapes overstepping grid boundaries. At some point Close was paralyzed and can now only move really one hand. But he has worked up this crazy apparatus that suspends the canvas at whatever angle (oh yeah, also at some point he started drawing the grids all diagonal) so he can guide his brush onto each square.
Anyways, I dig it. So then I split up from James, Ash, and Lori to go meet Morgan and Laura for a program of international shorts. Huhhuh, shorts. Anyways, Avatar. See it. In-credible. Also notable, "Hombres de Paja" and "Danya." There was a Polish headscratcher called "Lucky Man", but we couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Eveningtimes we watch the Animation Extravaganza (evidently the festival's big draw) but you don't wanna hear about that, do you? I know what you want.
You want the party chisme.
Morgan shmoozes up Lynette and April, who went unnamed yesterday and also misidentified, not sister but rather roommate. And all around good sport partygoer. More later, but here she is in action:
The party venue, Sutra, was a cool little nightspot with green waterfalls behind the bar:
and much revelry to be enjoyed.
And do I even have to explain how we do it in the VIP lounge?
James and Laura holding it down and keeping it very real.
Morgan (partner unidentified, I'll have to get back to y'all tomorrow on the scoop here) working the room, as it were. You know, I didn't actually see him leave? Huh.
The club had a back patio scene, where we could more easily hear about how great our movie is.
And we met this dude Jim, who was full of delightful stories and a charming accent.
When I last saw Ashley, they were saying something about the Braves playing tomorrow...
Laura gave Dean a ride home, and I heard Lori left earlier, so Lynette, April and I embarked on an ill-conceived, poorly managed, and clumsily executed after party at the Sheraton pool. I shouldn't really discuss the details of an ongoing investigation, but locked doors, hot-sauce covered feet, a giant pile of cold greasy mozzarella sticks (I call 'em "cheese twinkies"!), some soul-baring and awful-coffee-sharing later, and we were all ready for bed.
Of course, my first duty is to you, the armchair m@xtronaut. After all, if I don't document it, did it even actually happen?
Jeez, is that guy just heading out for his tee-time?
g'night,
m@x
So first let me address the time issue. See, my cel phone figured out that we were in EDT, while my new computer was still a little disoriented from the strip search at LAX. So I'm looking up at the computer screen, thinking it's three hours earlier in LA (my time), when in fact it's three hours later where I actually am. Sheesh.
More corrections and annotations to come, but let's to the photographia:
The High Museum of Art. Can you see that big ol' sculpture of a human form in front?
It's all, like, made-up of human forms, man. I mean like we're all connected and making some like, larger super-being, you know?
Here's Lori and Ashley appreciating the profundity. Oh yeah! So, around 8 (I guess they had actually been in town for several hours but) Ashley and James come a-knockin' on the ol' hotel room door, and we laugh and catch up and watch dumb movies on HBO until they fall asleep and then Lori and I went out for bruphtus. Couple hours later everybody's ready to go sightseeing so we head over to the aforementioned museum.
(I was kinda goin' for that Ferris Bueller thing.)HMA had a Chuck Close portraiture exhibit. How could I not love this guy? Takes three photographs in his life. Of what? Himself. And then, he just makes them into art through any and every method he can think of. See he draws a grid on the photograph and then puts the grid on a canvas, or a plate, or whatever else he can think of, and recreates each square. Maybe he'll make one where he paints weird abstract paisleys in each square. Or one where he exposes each square of a plate to acids for different temperatures. Or he'll make his own pulp in 80 different grays and put a different color spitball in each square. Step back from any of these, the portrait emerges, but it's about the process, baby!
Here's what I mean:
This is the first photograph he ever used for this. Evidently he had some leftover film in the camera so he turned it on himself. This giant canvas is done by pencil shadings in each of the squares of the grid.
This one is paint. If your monitor is resolute enough, you can see some of the shapes overstepping grid boundaries. At some point Close was paralyzed and can now only move really one hand. But he has worked up this crazy apparatus that suspends the canvas at whatever angle (oh yeah, also at some point he started drawing the grids all diagonal) so he can guide his brush onto each square.Anyways, I dig it. So then I split up from James, Ash, and Lori to go meet Morgan and Laura for a program of international shorts. Huhhuh, shorts. Anyways, Avatar. See it. In-credible. Also notable, "Hombres de Paja" and "Danya." There was a Polish headscratcher called "Lucky Man", but we couldn't make heads or tails of it.
Eveningtimes we watch the Animation Extravaganza (evidently the festival's big draw) but you don't wanna hear about that, do you? I know what you want.You want the party chisme.
Morgan shmoozes up Lynette and April, who went unnamed yesterday and also misidentified, not sister but rather roommate. And all around good sport partygoer. More later, but here she is in action:
The party venue, Sutra, was a cool little nightspot with green waterfalls behind the bar:
and much revelry to be enjoyed.
And do I even have to explain how we do it in the VIP lounge?
James and Laura holding it down and keeping it very real.
Morgan (partner unidentified, I'll have to get back to y'all tomorrow on the scoop here) working the room, as it were. You know, I didn't actually see him leave? Huh.The club had a back patio scene, where we could more easily hear about how great our movie is.
And we met this dude Jim, who was full of delightful stories and a charming accent.
When I last saw Ashley, they were saying something about the Braves playing tomorrow...Laura gave Dean a ride home, and I heard Lori left earlier, so Lynette, April and I embarked on an ill-conceived, poorly managed, and clumsily executed after party at the Sheraton pool. I shouldn't really discuss the details of an ongoing investigation, but locked doors, hot-sauce covered feet, a giant pile of cold greasy mozzarella sticks (I call 'em "cheese twinkies"!), some soul-baring and awful-coffee-sharing later, and we were all ready for bed.
Of course, my first duty is to you, the armchair m@xtronaut. After all, if I don't document it, did it even actually happen?
Jeez, is that guy just heading out for his tee-time?
g'night,
m@x
posted by m@x at 1:45 AM
3 Comments:
I think I speak for the people when I say: we want Hunter. Give us more Hunter! yer slippin dude.
I hated Sutra. The one club the night before was cool for pure underground rump shakin' action by the locals, but if I see one more set of matching skinny girls in jeans with high heels I'm gonna lose it! I thought I could leave that behind in LA. Turns out Atlanta is less southern stereotype and more LAish metropolitan city.
Skinny bitches with their Hypnotique freebie liqueur shots. This party begat the "big split-up" of our group. Here's about when I threw my Atlanta trip theme of "No one gets left behind" out the window and took up the new and improved theme of "Lori looks out for Lori". Fun times.
Ok, from my standpoint we all had the best time. and yes, I know Max, that I dropped the ball on bringing the boys and the booze to our "pool party" but you and I both know that plan was a "maybe" as we both had other motives. this was also the first night we broke our, "leave no man behind" rule. hahaha. and then we broke it everynight following which also ruled. this was the last time our room was cleaned too, wasn't it? I seriously love hot dudes from Atlanta who talk film and liberal politics with a little Baseball on the side. Motorcycle rides at 5:30 AM kick ass...so does rolling back into the room with your shirt on backwards at noon to compare stories! hahaha! YAAAAAAY!
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