La Dolce Vita
All congratulations are due to Michael Sanchez, grand-prize winner of The Stranger's First Annual Juniorcolor="#FF0000">* Mints Sculpture Contest. Mr. Sanchez swept the field of nearly 20 entries with his work entitled Sammy Davis Juniorcolor="#FF0000">* Mint; the judges were impressed not only with the quality of the likeness (uncanny), but with the way the artist used the various inherent properties of the medium: the cracked mosaic-patterned coating for Mr. Davis Juniorcolor="#FF0000">* Mint's hair, the smooth white mint excavated from the tiny little candy for his bright teeth and eyes. Sanchez's prize is two full-series passes to the Seattle International Film Festival (SIFF) (including last week's swank opening gala).
During the judging process, celebrity judge "Rem Koolhaas" felt it necessary to destroy two entries that he found offensive, for reasons he did not care to elaborate. (Both were abstract works.) Koolhaas, his consort Louise Nevelson, and some hack art critic awarded second place to a young lady, going by the name "Fish," for her multi-textured Queen of Spades. In an unforeseen turn, a third-place tie was broken by a Juniorcolor="#FF0000">* Mint-eating contest, in which two artists cannibalized their own sculptures--which, as it turns out, were both frozen. We watched the artists manfully chew enormous mouthfuls of frozen candy, to the obvious delight of Stranger editor Dan Savage, who in another unforeseen turn, decided to split the prize between the two slightly nauseated contestants.
I ran into Sanchez at the SIFF opening at the Seattle Art Museum a few days later, where I learned that he is a musician and filmmaker, and he credits the inspiration for Sammy Davis Juniorcolor="#FF0000">* Mint to his girlfriend. As with much great art, the genius is not just in the execution, but in having seen the connection between the subject and the material; Sanchez's girlfriend also seemed to be enjoying herself on SIFF's opening night.
On that topic, I have nothing to say. First I was told that there was no VIP area; then I was told that there was a VIP area, but it was tiny and no one was in it. All this made it impossible to carry out my annual exciting SIFF challenge, which is to breach VIP-section security and see what the VIPs get that the rest of us poor slobs go without. (Last year, "breaching security" meant "stepping over the velvet rope." They had nicer bathrooms and more food.)
