- Craig Wheat made this.
Where have I been? WHERE THE FUCK INDEED. Well, let’s see… the last post that I made was in June or some such shit. Since that time, I’ve been drinking my liver away at a writers residency in the Ozarks tailored towards cultural critics with a healthy fear of God and homosexuals. The organization that runs the residency got its initial funding through the William F. Buckley Foundation for Exceptionally Objective Journalism. It is a bit of a “need to know” situation, so I’m regretfully unable to communicate the name of the place to you laypeople.
One of the big things that we talked about at the residency was the absolute, unarguable importance of year-end best of lists by critics. All of the writers at the residency agreed wholeheartedly that the reading public is too retarded to figure out what stuff they liked over the course of a calendar year, and that it is our duty to make those decisions for them. You’ve no doubt been inundated with literally millions of top ten lists, best-of lists, and so forth in the last few days. But I’m going to go ahead and place a wager that all of them were wrong. Dead wrong.
So, without further ado, I bring you Tanner Dobson’s Official Whatever of Portland Art 2011 List.
BEST VENUE TO EYE RAPE JAILBAIT: Appendix Project Space - It’s weird that the galleries that are attended by all of the richest people in town are also always filled with the ugliest people in town at receptions. They say that money can’t buy you class, but apparently in the Pacific Northwest, it also can’t buy you a replacement face for that leather fucking scrotum that you wear over your skull. Instead of trying to pick up gravity-ravaged cougars from the Pearl District venues in 2011, I focused all of my energy on carving out fine, young trim up at Appendix Project Space in Northeast. Little did those boys know when they put up that wall of hay bales that I would be literally fist-deep in middle schoolers every Last Thursday for the past twelve months. Oh, they also did some good shows: Gary Robbins, Geoffrey Kix Miller, Andrew Norman Wilson, probably some others that I don’t remember also because my face was glued to a tween snatch.
PERFORMANCE ART I DUG THE MOSTEST: Michael Reinsch’s Gallery Walk for PICA’s T:BA Festival – Who the fuck is this guy anyways? My sources tell me that the motherfucker works at Target and has kids. All I know is that literally every time that he does something my khakis feel a bit restrictive as my swollen members thrashes about like a Tolkien-loving dragon in search of hobbit blood. Do not confuse yourself, dear reader – I am not saying that Michael Reinsch is a hobbit. In fact, he is taller than me. This screedler had several other notable appearances/shows this year (including the one with the blank sandwich board signs at some hippie gallery off of Alberta and the one where he ripped open presents and made Lisa Radon sad). But what set Gallery Walk apart in my opinion was the fact that he took a gnarly spill on the front steps of Washington High School on like the first night. While completely unintentional, it made all the more evident Reinsch’s ability to simultaneously amuse us and make us die a little bit inside. I’m being completely serious. Jeff Jahn is scared to write anything about Michael Reinsch because he is completely fucking confused by the fact that Renisch’s art is absolutely, positively fucking flawless.
GAYEST PLACE FOR AN ARTIST COMMUNITY: Milepost 5 – I don’t even know what to say about this shitshow. You’re NOT going to make 82nd Ave desirable, and I doubt the black people want your charity. “Hey, black people, we’re having an ice cream social to welcome ourselves into your neighborhood that the municipal government doesn’t give a shit about. Do any of you want to buy a condo?”
STUPIDEST PERSON AT THE OREGONIAN: DK Row - The fact that I have lived here for like five years and have literally never run into this guy has officially convinced me that he is being ghost-written by some jabrony from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. There is like one picture of him online and it’s extremely pixelated. Motherfucker doesn’t even exist.
MOST CANCEROUS ART OF THE YEAR: Sean Healy - This show was at Elizabeth Leach or PDX or Blue Sky or something. Everything was made of cigarettes I think. Healy is a parent and should stop smoking before his kids start stealing Newports from the Plaid Pantry. On a side note: his work is kewl.
FOLKIEST FUCKING THING I HAVE EVER SEEN: The Contemporary Northwest Art Awards - NOT EVERYBODY IN THE NORTHWEST LIKES THOSE FUCKING DEBORAH BUTTERFIELD HORSES, GODDAMMIT. STOP MAKING US LOOK LIKE FUCKING GOMERS, YOU RETARDED FUCKFUCKERS.
BEST OPPORTUNITY TO WATCH PEOPLE WHO DON’T USUALLY WATCH ART TRY TO WATCH ART AND JUST GET DISAPPOINTED: Jesse Sugarmann’s Lido (The Pride is Back) - Standing around on the observation deck/beer garden outside of Washington High School at this year’s PICA Time-Based Arts Festival at one of Sugarmann’s van-lifting performances, I was tickled fucking pink to hear all of the oglers around me talking about how they generally don’t go to art events, but that smashing four vans was just something they could not miss! They got all giggly as the hindquarters of each van was lifted by air mattresses being inflated, anticipating certain destruction and NASCAR-worthy thrills. As one of the vans began to wobble atop the mattresses, a collective gasp ripped through the crowd, their frontal lobes dripping with anticipation. Then nothing happened, which is exactly what was supposed to happen. And they were all like, “Fucking art, man! What’s its deal?”
GALLERY THAT I STILL HAVE NEVER BEEN TO ONCE: Butters Gallery - What the fuck is Butters Gallery?
MOST AWKWARD GROUP OF YOUNG ARTISTS: Recess Collective - These kids are pretty good human beings and have great vision, but they fucking suck at talking to other people. Gawd, they are so weird. I think they all go to Reed or Lewis & Clark or something. I like their programming, but it’d be cool if they would stop staring at the floor and mumbling shit while tugging at the bottom of their denim jackets.
ABSOLUTE, MOST FANTASTIC HIGHLIGHT OF 2011: No Portland Biennial! - I thoroughly enjoyed not having to go to North Portland even once this last year. Fecking seck.
So, there you have. Suck my dick if you disagree, you fucking communist.
