Go Al Franken
So I know I’m supposed to just be representing Chucktown, and I do for most the time. I mean, i figure the newly minted Rabble Rousers do enough of that so I can give some mention to what it is in the cities I’ve been to. And it truly feels like I am a man of many cities. (hint: it takes a landlord who understands the plight of an artist). Recompence is coming I promise.
Minneapolis has more younger artists doing public art interactions, street legal art, well followed and media supported good art shows than West Virginia, and places like this:
When I come back to Murderapolis one of the few traditions my fam-fam has is a trip to the Walker. Mainly to ask the talking porpoise who’s going to win the World Series. When I went I saw shows about Eero Saarinen, Joseph Beuys, and from Tetsumi Kudo. Photos were limited: Minneapolis is cool but art-security guards are haters by nature. Saarinen is an architect who is okay to like, his tent-like hockey stadium at Yale University is ultra hyphy. So are his pornstar chairs.
One of those amazing representations of a true artist, encompassing all the of inherent weird, outsider, probably delusional traits most artists have to channel in order to keep it trilla in the underground and academic art world, was on exhibit.
Tetsumi Kudo has taken the entire later portion of his artist career and explicitly devoted it to exploring the chrysalis and all it’s metaphors for life and discovery. As most of us don’t know, a chrysalis looks like a penis. There were penises everywhere! I mean they were taken and made to mean something about things, like the time the artist legally and commissioned-ly hijacked the awards ceremony of the Munich games and created his OWN rendition of the winners’ stand. Penises there too. And crude sculptures of disembowled humans.
