It has been two weeks since the opening of Overgrowth, our show at GR2. I am just now posting about it but it will be closing in about ten days. Thank you to everyone who came.
The opening was great and I was excited to have so many people who mean a lot to me show up. Not only did my brother and family make it out- but also a lot of the instructors/artists I admire. I only wish I had taken more pictures (luckily Eric from GR did- so I am borrowing a couple of his- I hope he doesn't mind to much) This is my brother and his family on the left.

I just changed my website and put up some new work. I am hoping the new format will let me update more often. It is still not finished, but almost.

This weekend we went out to a lot of shows and museums etc. Saturday was Aaron Smith's opening at Koplin del Rio- very exciting. We stumbled into a to cool for you opening at Angstrom, where even Mauricio noticed that everyone was beautiful and skinny. The most memorable part of the night, however, was the impossible parking in the alley. The Indian cultural club/place next door was having some sort of a (fancy) function and had people arriving feeling rightly entitled to parking, and fighting/blocking all the slightly drunk opening attendees who were beaded in between.

Sunday we went to see the new Eli Broad addition at LACMA. I was very excited to go. But I came home a little unsure of what I thought. In the books I had always liked Jeff Koons, but seeing all his work together I felt he was mocking me, and disgustingly cold. Why so much Koons? Very unsettling. He made the Baldessari behind him seem warm and thoughtful in comparison. I did love the Lichtenstein paintings, the Ellsworth Kelly, and the Cy Twombly. I thought the Rauchenbergs at MOCA were better. Mauricio (who just had surgery for a hernia) found this Warhol especially sympathetic.

On the 2nd floor, I found out I hate Damien Hirst. Possibly unfairly, but with such intensity I don't have the energy to think about it. I was excited to see the Cindy Shermans. The best part of the whole museum, I thought, was the room of Leon Golub and the table by Robert Therrien. That was amazing.

In the last gallery (bottom floor)I liked the Richard Serra pieces more than I would have thought. It is a strange thing to have them indoors- being that they feel like the outdoors simply because of their size.

Exiting the museum, however, I suddenly realized I was all the way through and there were almost no women included; in fact, it could almost be the museum of white male artists. Not that I have a problem with white guys, but how boring, and especially in L.A. which is fantastic specifically because it is not a city of white men. Babara Kruger was prominent in the elevator shaft- but what is that? Almost like a band-aid over the rest of the collection? Like if you stretch a feminist artist over the outside of three floors you don't have to actually put any on the inside of the museum? I understand the amount of artists was few- but it still felt awful and discouraging to realize.

I am not sure why I am posting this- if only to alleviate my frustration. Partially it was Mauricio's idea. He wanted me to write a letter; I love that he thought someone would listen to me and actually do something.

I hope everyone is well.