Many Bothans died to bring you this information.

While carousing about the city this weekend, I ended up in Chelsea (after seeing Stan Lee @ NY Comic Con) with Pabst Blue Ribbon drinking pseudo-intellectuals. Gallery hopping with hipsters turned out to be surprisingly fun.

I first went to the Anton Kern Gallery (532 W 20th St) to see Mark Grotjahn’s Blue Paintings. I first fell in love with him @ the 2004 Carnegie International. That’s also where my obsession with Chiho Aoshima and other Japanese pop-surrealist painters (i.e. Audrey Kawasaki) started. Anyways, Mark’s work was very emotional as always. I really favored the blue over his vibrant reds and greens at the International. He always works in complimentary monochromatic palettes, and in this case, the orange-red under-color created a beautiful optical effect through radiating geometric energies. I give him a gold star, even though I am often bored by pieces of this genre (Rothko is an exception).

We then skidaddled over to the Tony Shafrazi Gallery (544 W 26th St) so I could see David LaChapelle’s Awakened exhibition. This was the first time I had seen his work in non-print form, thus it was very exciting. The first room of the gallery provided a beautiful transition to the other works within the exhibit, both literally and figuratively. The flooded chapel scene and submerged altar boy were both preludes to the following rooms. Additionally, there were photos of immersed Lourve-esque galleries, which I personally thought helped thematically emphasize the Romantic/Neo-Classical nature of other pieces.

The Romantic movement was an entirely aesthetic experience as it confronted the transcendentality of nature (and yes, I made that word up). Misunderstood heroes were featured within such paintings, as are in David’s work (note his iconic transsexual muse, Amanda Lepore who appears in numerous of his photographs). However, the misunderstood heroes in this exhibition were not exclusively nightlife queens, but often suburbanites in frumpy clothes floating through water. I absolutely adored this concept. Of course, this is all speculation, seeing as there was no artist statment present.

My favorite piece was a giant multi-framed image of numerous models writhing with horror at the collapse of The Forum in Caesar’s Palace. Upon first glance, I immediately thought of Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa, based on the shipwreck of the French frigate La Meduse. It’s brimming with delirium and despondency, as was Mr. LaChapelle’s piece. I remember reading somewhere that Gericault used friends as models, such as Eugene Delacroix. I’m assuming many of the models within this photograph were close friends to David LaChapelle. Classically nude, the figures mourn over the destruction of consumerist culture with the collapse of the plastic Vegas pediment as the end of society. It’s the best inside joke ever.

Francis Bacon’s (as in the painter) personal belongings (newspaper clips and things of that nature) were also on display. This made me exceedingly happy as well seeing as the bat-shit crazy ones are the best. Did you know he used to eat paint? He’s up there on my list, along with Van Gogh.

My hope is that after reading this scintillating/boring/fabulous/poorly written journal entry (that is, if anyone reads this), kids will start getting into museums. Literature. Lost arts. I’m nineteen and find this fascinating. There has to be others out there who find this far more appealing than online stalking.

Listening to: Slow Down by The Academy Is (in honor of David - "Hollywood Hills and Suburban Thrills")