by Emily Hall
Nudity and Social Skills
The Seattle Art Museum opening for Linda Farris' ContemporaryArtProject (it seems to be one long word) consisted of a packed gallery of well-wishers, including three of the artists--Karen Davies, Justine Kurland, and Cameron Martin, the last being the closest thing to a Seattle artist represented in the CAP collection: born here, now working in New York.
CAP, as all Seattle now knows, is a group of 33 works of art that Farris bought with money ponied up by the 19 member-collectors, who got to enjoy the works in their homes for a few years before the whole shebang was donated to SAM earlier this year. This symbolic transition was accomplished with, as is usual at SAM, an Academy Award-style roster of thanks in a conference room before the opening.
Up in the gallery, people seemed to hover around the Zhang Huan video of a performance at the Seattle Asian Art Museum a few years ago, the one with all the nudity and the pelting the artist with bread. Farris herself is in it, as are a few other artists and art-world types; it's like a naked Where's Waldo?, but it's not the least bit salacious--rather solemn, actually. I watched for a while, and spent some time looking at an extraordinary embroidered canvas by Ghada Amer, and then, slightly embarrassed among all the accomplished, rich, and nicely dressed of Seattle, I left.
Later that night, under the influence of a couple of hot toddies (which did nothing to help my sore throat, but helped my morale a great deal), I went to Farris' house for a little get-together among the pieces of her own interesting art collection. I ate about a million meatballs, and then hogged the larger part of an artichoke frittata. It was still a gathering of luminaries, but at least they were luminaries I knew. I gathered some probably libelous and definitely unprintable gossip. Howard House owner Billy Howard kept me company next to the frittata for a while; sculptor Jeffry Mitchell's arrival created a minor sensation.
The brief and awkward highlight of my night occurred when Farris was nice enough to introduce me to Justine Kurland, whose work I've admired for a few years now. She's as slight and lovely as one of the girls in her photographs. I think I stammered something incoherent and flattering, and ran out the door. I must work on those social skills in the new year.
