Today is my brother’s birthday. He has a pretty good memory, if he meets you once he remembers your birthday and what sports teams you like. So I have to remember his birthday.

I went to Hollywood on Monday, just to get out of the house (it happens even when you live in an art gallery). There is this whole new thing, Hollywood and Highland. It is where the Oscars were this year, at the Kodak Theater. I took the red line subway and walked around the old cemented courtyard of the Chinese Theater and then walked around the whole neighborhood, hadn’t been there in a while. It was cool to just walk around aimlessly, with nothing to do. Except, I got hit up to buy drugs eight times. One guy showed me the rock of crack, another held out a little balloon of smack. Nice to know the local government pumped a billion dollars into this neighborhood and it is still a wretched slum. I get more peace on skid row.

The L.A. Times had an article about that atrocious Arte Povera show at MOCA, blaming the movement on a collapsed mid-1960’s Italian economy. How about on a bunch of out-of-touch ambivalent dullards.

Dave Naz is supposed to deliver his artwork and we install the show in Wednesday. Some Coagula writers made their deadline, but the regulars did not. The issue will be good regardless, some good stuff. there will be an article praising the Barnett Newman retrospective in Philadelphia and trashing the Gerhard Richter show in NYC. It is an eye-opener. Got a call from Bill Lasarow from Artscene. I will be writing some stuff for his next issue. Coordinated all of that. I am glued to this frickin’ desk.

Next door at Eye Five Gallery (there is no longer a hippie couple living there) there is a drawing show going on, four artists are drawing on the walls. It is looking really cool, it opens Saturday concurrent with the show at my gallery. The funny thing is how happy these artists are. I walk by and they look up and are smiling, really glowing. They are totally jazzed to be drawing on a huge scale, on a wall, there is something almost natural about it, primal. Speaking of graffiti, Worked on the JERK movie. We have five hours of footage, but primarily because the girl paints so damn slow. Trying to think of a celebrity who could possibly narrate the movie.

Desiree came and picked up a few paintings. It is always sad to take a show down. I paid her for what sold, except for a few pieces that have not been paid for. She seemed quite satisfied. If it isn’t common knowledge, I will tell it to you here, I aim to please.

I just realized that there is no way i am going to be able to get up to the Bay Area for the Eva Hesse retrospective at SFMOMA. I had some downtime too, and should have. It closes on May 19th, but I have too many obligations here between now and then. Got to get the magazine out this month, Dave Naz’s show gets installed this week, Saturday is the opening. Other things too. After seeing that abysmal Arte Povera show last night at the L.A. MOCA, I wanted to at least have a gage of ephemeral art by which to measure how bad the AP show sucks.

What can I say, fuck.

The Gerhard Richter show I think is traveling to SF later this year. Anyone want to go?

After sitting the gallery this afternoon, Salerno and I went over the financial situation for the next issue. Almost enough money to take it to the printers at this point, so please advertise in the print edition of Coagula Art Journal. Everyone will see your name and think you are an art star. Oh God, that was a lame pitch, that is why Salerno sells advertising.

So, money got taken care of. Went to a party at artist Sandra Vista’s loft. She has a show at my gallery scheduled to open in November. She made great vegetable soup. If November’s show is as good as the soup, I will sell a lot of paintings.

Went to an opening at MOCA for members. It was at the Geffen Contemporary. The show was a survey of Arte Povera and was one of the utterly dullest exhibitions I have ever seen.The Geffen never looked greyer and inconsequential. The art was innocuous drivel when it wasn’t being one shade short of invisible.

Yes, I understand Arte Povera, the approaches, the ideas, the use of ordinary materials, the need for art to be so mundanely parallel to life that the role of art object ceased to matter in a liberating transformation. I get all of that and understand the postwar analytical context in which it was created. And I gotta tell you, with as much sensitivity to that as possible, the highlights were its meanderings between lifeless and dull.

In a month MOCA’s giant Warhol show will be mobbed and the museum will get gobs of press. That will be the sunny side of the 60s, giving the people what they want, turning the temple of what was once the avant garde into everyman’s cutting edge. And it will be good. And down the hill, the Geffen will sit like an unoccupied, unvisited tomb. And it will be. And it will be a tomb for the empty propositions and trite constructions of an increasingly pointless and dimwitted art movement. Arte Povera is avant garde art for people who hate themselves and deny that anything other than below-average ordinariness is ever even conceivable, let alone attainable.

The opening tonight was dead. Gordy Grundy made an appearance. Ezrha Jean Black was there. Artist Laura London persuasively argued in favor of attending her opening at Peter Blake Gallery. Who else was there? Michelle Fierro, Jennifer Faist, the Norton Simon’s Briana Pompeii, Barbara Kerwin, photgrapher Todd Gray -without his signature hat (which he claimed security had forced him to remove, but I didn’t believe him)- and not a whole lotta anyone else - although I did get there late, again, Sandra Vista makes some damn tasty soup.

Finished the night at a bar in Chinatown with some loudmouths from Claremont Graduate University arguing who the worst drunk in recent memory there was. Some brash broad from Philly who shall remain nameless here won hands down. We all agreed that her universally-liked boyfriend is the only reason she wasn’t long ago slugged in the face by any number of people. The biggest argument against her winning the title of CGU #1 Lush was to make it qualify to real artists. I actually had to defend her as an artist *sigh* but she then swept the balloting, and we all swapped stories. I didn’t even have the worst one. Or the second worst one *cringe*. Then someone said nobody has seen her lately, forcing me to defend her yet again as I had seen her Tuesday at CGU, avoiding the obvious shadow of recent graduate and rising art star Joel Morrison. Like every self-conscious budding boozer, she made sure to show off the fact that she was drinking water to me. We all drank to that. I love the taste of Diet Coke.

which children’s storybook character are you?

this quiz was made by colleen

It is cool and cloudy today, and there were actually quite a few visitors to the gallery today. Almost a steady stream. Pockets of boredom, but definitely good foot traffic. People like Dez’s art and that is nice. Of all the paintings that sold, two the collectors just had to have. So when people come in I have been having to cross off the titles on the titlesheet to avoid mass confusion.

I dare someone to buy this and tell me what it is like. See what can happen when you spend all day surfing the internet.

Since I started writing this, two more people came in to look at art. Also, earlier, two artists who are in the Summer Group Show here came by to pick up their boxes. To recap, I found a pile of old wooden boxes slightly reminiscent of Joseph Cornell, so i am having 14 artists transform them into artworks for a show that will ostensibly be an homage to Cornell (or, cynically, a lame attempt to freeload off his reputation).

So far the artists for that show are:

LISA ADAMS
LAVIALLE CAMPBELL
MICHELLE FIERRO
MARTIN GANTMAN
ED GIARDINA
MARK HOUSLEY
BARBARA KERWIN
MARION LANE
AMITIS MOTEVALLI
PAUL PAIEMENT
LUCAS REINER
ADAM TERAOKA

There a re a few that i asked that I have yet to hear form. Also, a few i asked could not do it because of scheduling conflicts. The show opens here on June 22.

Take the 100 Acre Personality Quiz!

Friday, got awoken by an early morning phonecall. Seems there was a sale on Krylon spray paint at a local art store and someone (artist JERK) wanted a ride, and wanted to be dropped off at work. I must have mumbled affirmatively, because she took the bus over and was banging on my door at quarter to Nine. Every gallery should be mandated to represent at least one 19-year old artist.

Anyone who knows me knows that 9 a.m. and I rarely meet. But there i was, driving through Glendale, Eagle Rock and Pasadena with 15 cans of graffiti paint in my trunk. The cans are still there. It was just plain weird being up in the morning and driving around. Almost like being drugged. I insisted on getting coffee. JERK got a Snapple. I told her one day she would drink coffee in the morning. She is not precocious enough to have a snappy comeback to whatever a person says. But she is continually sizing up everything. If and when there is an ounce of bullshit in it, you are just dead in her eyes. and a cold shoulder form her is like being disinvited to the party as you are walking up the driveway. I am really beginning to sense the potential in this artist.

A few people came by the gallery today, even though it is closed except for Saturday. I was, after my early morning wake-up call, very tired. Desiree Buckman has made a lot of friends over the years, but unlike almost every other artist, her friends buy art. It has been a very successful show with her. Tomorrow is the last day, then we take it down and prepare the Dave Naz photo exhibit.

A friend called and told me that the group show at LOW Gallery sucked and that the opening was the typical pompous art students voguing for their teachers while drinking cheap booze and bumming cigarettes. Anything with Jorge Pardo and Raymond Petibon in it is definitely too far below the slacker line to be worthwhile.

Thursday at Rio Hondo College in Whittier, poet Gerald Locklin gave an afternoon reading. He was awesome, I have seen him read a number of times, and even though he has read some of the same stuff each time, it is always fresh.

Later Thursday evening, the Cal State L.A. Creative Writing Club held a reading. Guess what, I am the founder of that fine organization, which I founded the same year as Coagula, which was the same year i got kicked out of CSLA. So I got up and read two poems: Our Tagging Landscape (scroll down to the fifth entry on that page) and Nuked.

The main act of the evening was B.D. Love, who actually writes sonnets, but quite palatable ones. I wrote a flattering quote on the jacket to his latest book of poetry.

So, not really an art day, although Locklin plugged Coagula and read a few selections from his LiterArture column that has been running in the mag for a few years now. I have been quite blessed to be able to publish my favorite living poet without having to widen the focus of an art magazine, as Locklin’s prodigious ouvre has a large selections of meditations on great and not so great works of art.

Pretty fucking effete, eh? There is just something sick and sticky about poetry that if you talk too much about it, it just seems all so feigned. All the poetry slams in the world can’t scrub away the ever-present stain of snooty garden parties attached to the medium. Makes the art world seem forthright and vital in comparison.

I had this idea a few months ago. The gallery had a group show, Quinceanera. One of the artists, JERK, had a painting in the show that was pretty popular. One friend wanted to buy it at the opening. I couldn’t find the red dots. So then, two weeks later, a person comes in and wants to buy it. “Sorry, it’s sold.” Then the Autumn Artwalk is the next week. My gallery director, not seeing a red dot, sells it while I am out and about.

So I could have sold this painting three times. Enter Richard Duardo. The man who translated the working class knowledge of silkscreening to the world of high art. He saw it go down in the 70s with Carlos Almaraz and the pioneers of the Los Angeles Mexican American art movement. His silscreen prints are everywhere. He has worked with everyone.

So JERK is a 20-year old Chicana artist. She has put up graffiti all over L.A. Currently, she works in fast food. Its Burgers or Art, and I think the art is going to make her rich and famous one day, and frankly, since i discovered her, I think I might get rich too. So teaming her up with Duardo is a no-brainer (although it only happened by accident when she and I bumped into him recently). A generational match up.

We had a meeting at his studio today to talk about publishing an edition of her work. Duardo is game. He is in the middle of a big project, so we will probably do it next month. I’m producing a film on JERK, so we can do some shooting at the screenprinting studio as well, interview Richard, et cetera. A lot of work, but fun.

In my previous post, I might have sounded like the Brewery Artwalk sucked. No way. It is an awesome event. But the fact remains, a lot of the art here sucks. And a lot the artists here are pretentious egomaniacs. One guy here makes large child-like renderings of the cow jumping over the moon that just happen to be made of paint on canvas. He is at best a designer, perhaps even an amateur illustrator. Sure, he can show you a resume that includes art commissions, art collectors, art exhibitions, an art bibliography, but in reality the dude is not only not an artist, he does not know SHIT about art. Which is fine, live in the dark, smile in the mirror at your own perceived greatness, until he rolls his eyes at the real artists exhibiting in his vicinity. I get sick of my neighbors who do dippy bullshit kid drawings on expensive canvas with expensive paint and are elbowing their way to the head of the Artist Table.

These are the types that ensure anytime anything is codified for artists who qualify as artists, that actual artists just do not get in.

Anyway, looking forward, this week has started to become as densely-packed as cheesecake. I was supposed to get a tattoo today, but the tattooist had a cold, trust me, i can wait.

I am sorta pissed at myself. In this movie Art City, a documentary about the art world, I give a little speech near the end where i show a tattoo i have of Jackson Pollock. I mention that there is no art around the tattoo, just the artist. I imply that that was by design, to underscore the importance of the artist. So now I have a bunch tattoos on one upper arm and just the lone painter on the other. Will I capitulate? Stay tuned.

Some friends showed up for the schlep out to Claremont for two solo shows - Ellie Kevorkian and Kristi Lippire. Both of these artists were in a show at my gallery last year called Rookies. Their work has changed for the better for both of them, so each remains an artist to watch.

Claremont Graduate University has Tuesday openings. We got there before 8 p.m. and if any faculty were there, they was gone gone gone by 8. Guess Perfesser John Millei had to rush home to his Hancock Park mansion to stare angstfully at the walls. Guess perfesser Rachel Lachowicz had to race home to catch up on getting drunk. Saw Michael Brewster’s truck but not a trace of him anywhere. What do these people do? I mean, when was the last time one of them got a feature write-up in Artforum, FlashArt, Art in America, Art News or even Artweek. And if media attention is not a valuable (or evaluatable) measure of an artist’s recent importance, at least get out of one institution (your college) and show at another institution (like, maybe a museum). Funny how the people who smugly sniff the refined air of the academy are not keeping the end of the bargain up in where they choose to exhibit. Waiting for that big “Local Art School Faculty” show at a Los Angeles Museum. Guess institutional credibility isn’t really attainable for many.

Oh, Claremont faculty Dean DeCocker was there as was Connie Zehr. The crowd was huge and the biggest buzz was for recent grad Joel Morrison who told me he just opened a show at Ace Gallery in Los Angeles that was supposed to move to New York but everything sold out and now he has to make more work. Boo fucking Hoo dude. He seemed stressed, but told a story about meeting Vincent Gallo at a Beverly Hills party, his first celebrity encounter since moving to L.A. Looks like someone is riding the art star escalator up - and he is a good artist and a good guy, so power to him.

The second highest ranking member of the art world in attendance was Norton Simon curator Michelle Deziel. She brought her one month old baby Natasha. It was Natasha’s first art exhibit. So I asked if i could hold the baby. There was a hillbilly band playing the opening (really) and when they stopped, the baby started crying. Looks like Michelle’s got herself a little redneck. People kept coming up to me and talking to me like I was the father. It was pretty funny. Someone made a wisecrack: “It is Natasha’s first art opening and she cozies right up to the biggest art critic in town.” Ha ha. Someone (Pitzer College student Mike Cronyn) took a picture of me and the baby. Oh I bet it looks all sweet and sappy.

Have to start working on the next issue of Coagula soon. Have been working on the movie about artist JERK as well, we may be publishing a print edition of hers, we’ll see. I am part of a poetry reading in Whittier on Thursday night - e-mail if you really want to know, it is not a slam or anything, actually, it will be at Rio Hondo College, so pretty square and safe. heh heh heh. Busy fucking week.

An email from Coagula contributor Brian R. Higgins, sharpest tool in the Manhattan toolshed:

Congratulations on a successful Brewery open studio, Mat. The part about MOCA having a booth and selling a lot of memberships was pathetic. I won’t hold my breath until the Brewery has a booth at MOCA.

or as Leonard Cohen said:

Now you can say that I’ve grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor

The day after artwalk is always a burned out day. My good friend, photographer Bob Bertero, got a loft today at the Brewery. I am almost positive he does art documentation. A better slide of your art will be hard to come by in L.A. if Bob sets up shop. It was funny because after the whole artwalk and the phone here ringing off the hook, Bob had made an appointment to see the space last week, so the office had to wait for him to see the place and then decide before they could give anyone a straight answer. He had been on their waiting list something like two years before they called him ten days ago.

Find your inner donut.