i got a barnes & noble gift card so i went kind of crazy and bought a lot of books today (cue space complaint). i got american minor, which is charlie white's latest series and probably the best book i bought today. i also purchased the beats: a graphic history (disappointing and childish. i should have read the spine because once i got home i discovered that it was made by the same people who did the equally disappointing malcolm x graphic novel), a book on political philosophy, i saw you: comics inspired by real-life missed connections (pretty good but kind of indie queer of me nonetheless), unlovable (a comic based on a diary the artist, esther pearl watson, found in a gas station bathroom in 1988), a richard estes retrospective (fuck yessss), and a book on the making of damien hirst's "for the love of god" (you know, the diamond-encrusted skull). there are still so many books i want! i am fucking insatiable.
a couple of months ago i was so pysched to find a dvd collection of every "schoolhouse rock" short (on sale, no less) but i just unearthed it under a pile of sweaters, and it hasn't even been unwrapped yet, let alone watched. shameful.
oh and i should confess something: i didn't really like the "art of two germanys: cold war culture" exhibit at lacma. i guess they thought it was a good idea as the 20th aniversary of the fall of the berlin wall approacheth but it definitely didn't resonate as well with me as it probably should have. it just didn't seem very relevant. maybe in 1994 i would have been down, 1999 even, but now cold war art seems to be too old to be à la mode and too new to be rediscovered and fully appreciated. i skipped the holocaust room entirely, and was bored or annoyed with all of the nazi imagery. but maybe that's just me. i hated the vanity fair exhibit when i saw it last year, too, and it seems as if everyone else adored it. perhaps i am too critical. but isn't that necessary in the art world?
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