Not who you think.
Jul. 19th, 2012 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogMy day began with a court hearing that got delayed a good half-hour (out of an hourlong time slot that had eight hearings scheduled in it, mine being the last) solely because the debtors in the first case of the hour had done a stupendous job of misrepresenting themselves in their filing. Among other indiscretions, their attorney (better known in these parts as a political hack rather than as a bankruptcy lawyer) had sent the case trustee a copy of the wrong petition. So he was on J's shitlist to begin with, and things got worse when it became clear that they'd left off numerous properties, creditors and transactions, mostly involving family members. Fortunately, because they took so damn long, by the time J got to my client's case, he was speedy and kind.
It ended, more or less, with another case of mistaken identity- this one of the audio persuasion. I've given up on listening to This American Life podcasts while doing the running routine, since there's nothing to slow down a pace than Ira bemoaning a Guatemalan village massacre, or a son discovering that his "father" actually, biologically, isn't, or whatever. But since I forgot my book while doing regular indoor cardio late today, the current ep would have to do, and it was lighter-hearted than those, and naturally had a local connection.
Meet Cindy Sherman. Or not.
Ira and an Israeli friend of his visited MoMA a few months ago, and saw a photo installation by said Cindy. It consisted of hundreds of self-portrait photos of herself, taken over a long time and some clearly intended to disguise her identity. During their walk through the gallery, they were accosted by a mid-50s woman who claimed to be Cindy Sherman- and then, just as quickly, who denied being her. Ultimately, Ira got the "real" artist on the phone, who sounded fascinated by the impersonation but who categorically denied that it was, in fact, her:
I mean I've just vaguely fantasized about being in the exhibit while the public's there. But then what always sort of complete turned me off of it is any particular moment that somebody would suddenly realize it was me-- that would just freak me out.
His guest at the exhibit (who had a story recreated later in the broadcast about another case of multiple false identities) wasn't quite as sure- But OF COURSE she'd deny it. She already lied to you once, so why not a second timme?
The exhibit has since moved 3,000 miles west, to San Francisco's equivalent of MoMA, but the mystery of the creator's presence remains. This is one of several pieces to note it, and also to recognize where her mad photographic skillz began to develop:
The new "Cindy Sherman" exhibit explores in detail the work of an artist who, over the course of a 35-year career, has not only created some of the most recognizable works in contemporary art but has also become a pop cultural icon and one of the most commercially successful artists of her time, with one photo recently selling for $3.8 million. The first retrospective of Sherman's work in nearly 15 years, it covers her evolution from its beginnings, when she was a college student in Buffalo, N.Y., to a recent, large-scale photographic mural that looms over visitors as they enter and leave the exhibit.
Cindy turns out to be one of the founders of Halwalls, a long-standing local centre for nonprofit arts, now based in the onetime downtown Methodist church saved and restored by Ani DiFranco a decade ago and re-baptized as Babeville. That was in her Buff State days, and her local connections also include the Albright and Artpark. And no, I have no idea what she looks like;)
It ended, more or less, with another case of mistaken identity- this one of the audio persuasion. I've given up on listening to This American Life podcasts while doing the running routine, since there's nothing to slow down a pace than Ira bemoaning a Guatemalan village massacre, or a son discovering that his "father" actually, biologically, isn't, or whatever. But since I forgot my book while doing regular indoor cardio late today, the current ep would have to do, and it was lighter-hearted than those, and naturally had a local connection.
Meet Cindy Sherman. Or not.
Ira and an Israeli friend of his visited MoMA a few months ago, and saw a photo installation by said Cindy. It consisted of hundreds of self-portrait photos of herself, taken over a long time and some clearly intended to disguise her identity. During their walk through the gallery, they were accosted by a mid-50s woman who claimed to be Cindy Sherman- and then, just as quickly, who denied being her. Ultimately, Ira got the "real" artist on the phone, who sounded fascinated by the impersonation but who categorically denied that it was, in fact, her:
I mean I've just vaguely fantasized about being in the exhibit while the public's there. But then what always sort of complete turned me off of it is any particular moment that somebody would suddenly realize it was me-- that would just freak me out.
His guest at the exhibit (who had a story recreated later in the broadcast about another case of multiple false identities) wasn't quite as sure- But OF COURSE she'd deny it. She already lied to you once, so why not a second timme?
The exhibit has since moved 3,000 miles west, to San Francisco's equivalent of MoMA, but the mystery of the creator's presence remains. This is one of several pieces to note it, and also to recognize where her mad photographic skillz began to develop:
The new "Cindy Sherman" exhibit explores in detail the work of an artist who, over the course of a 35-year career, has not only created some of the most recognizable works in contemporary art but has also become a pop cultural icon and one of the most commercially successful artists of her time, with one photo recently selling for $3.8 million. The first retrospective of Sherman's work in nearly 15 years, it covers her evolution from its beginnings, when she was a college student in Buffalo, N.Y., to a recent, large-scale photographic mural that looms over visitors as they enter and leave the exhibit.
Cindy turns out to be one of the founders of Halwalls, a long-standing local centre for nonprofit arts, now based in the onetime downtown Methodist church saved and restored by Ani DiFranco a decade ago and re-baptized as Babeville. That was in her Buff State days, and her local connections also include the Albright and Artpark. And no, I have no idea what she looks like;)