The Mediated Mug

 

Cup of the Day #9

India ink on white cardboard cups

by Gwyneth Leech, 2008 & 2009

Throughout the month of March there was an ongoing forum down at Edward Winkleman Gallery in Chelsea on artists' relationship to the art market. This was the brainchild of Jennifer Dalton and William Powhida whose drawings filled a rear room "market place".  In the main gallery the walls had become chalkboards, tables and chairs filled the space and people gathered every day for classes run by artists, gallerists, writers, bloggers and others about topics of pressing interest. The project was called Hashtagclass after the hashtag symbol ( (# ) used to precede words on Twitter in order to find and follow live discussions. Remote participants were a feature of the month with the talks viewable live via webcam and people using text and Twitter to send in questions during classes.

One afternoon last week I was there for Social Media #Class run by artists  Zachary Adam Cohen and Mark Philip Venema  streaming in from Canada as a disembodied head on a screen on the wall directly behind Zachary. The room was full of artists, bloggers, a critic or two and a dealer or two - all known to me through the media of Facebook but many of the faces I was seeing in the flesh for the first time.

The talk covered Facebook, Twitter and blogging with Zachary reading a prepared text and the jovial head making sardonic interjections. The discussion boiled down to several points - social media has a great leveling effect and is creating new communities in the art world. We all agreed. But what do those communities mean? Are they real relationships? Do they exist outside the web? Do they create real access and opportunities?

A key component of community was identified as trust and a call went out to name critical elements of trust relationships. Zachary asked for Twitter questions and flying fingers in the room passed along the message via IPhones and Blackberries.

I was feeling pretty dry as the talking and texting went on. Bottles of wine had appeared and been circulated but that was of no interest to me. Suddenly on the large screen, a woman and child entered the room and handed something to the Canadian artist. Moments later he was lifting it to his lips - a large steaming mug of a hot drink! My mouth watered. "What are you drinking?" I called out to him via microphone across the digital void. "Tea with milk, in a mug from the dollar store",  he replied, taking another big swig.

Now here is the crux of it - in this mediated world he can be in the room with us and in a foreign country at the same time, but we can't pour each other a cup of real tea!

At the end of the talk I made it a point to go around the room and meet all those mediated people, all those facebook friends and Tweeters and shake their flesh and blood hands. I am grateful to Edward, Jennifer and William for making a big step towards getting that community off their computers, out of their offices and studios and face to face in the real world. And I hope somehow to drink real tea with Mark Philip Venema before too long.

#class Purchase Application 
by William Powhida and Jennifer Dalton
2010
Pencil and colored pencil on paper
14" x 11" ( 35.5 x 28 cm)
#class exhibition, Winkleman Gallery

An Irish Brew

 

 Cup of the Day #7

Filigree Cup by Gwyneth Leech

White-out pen on green cardboard cup, 2009

My painting studio is on 39th Street, eight blocks down 9th Avenue from my apartment and a walk to work invariably full of incident. This morning, getting underway rather late, I am surprised by the volume of foot traffic until at Amy's Bread, the soda bread and paper shamrocks in the window plus the line out the door of people in green remind me that it is Saint Patrick's day.

I wait my turn in the amiable crush and order a scone and coffee to go. They serve excellent Illy espresso at Amy's and one of favorite breakfasts in Manhattan is to sit in here for a large bowl of Cafe au lait with french bread and butter, but I don't have time today. I get the Oran's decaf coffee on tap and am then am disappointed to find it extremely bitter when I taste it on my way down the street.

The Saint Patrick's Day Parade is already underway several blocks East and green-clad bar-flies are smoking their breakfasts outside the bars all the way down to 42nd Street. I dump my decaf in a trash can and go into Empire Tea and Coffee at 41st and 9th. This no-frills shop carries a great range of whole beans which the owner has roasted upstate. Their tea selection is also excellent - boxes at the front, loose leaf in glass jars at the back. And they sell a full menu of hot drinks to go, including outstanding espresso drinks at great prices.

I have been coming to Empire for years and always enjoy the personable baristas who seem to be drawn from a never-ending pool of aspiring jazz and pop musicians. The clientele includes artists, people heading to offices, construction workers from the burgeoning high rises in the neighborhood and postal employees from the depot on 42nd Street. There used to be a steady stream of musicians carrying instruments and headed for rehearsal studios on 41st, but that building was torn down to make way for a skyscraper a few years ago.

I order a Barry's Irish tea to mark the day. Barry's is Empire's house tea and it is a vigorous black brew which I drink strong with milk, no sugar. I like it almost as much as Brooke Bond's Scottish Blend. I lived in Scotland for 15 years and we swore by Scottish Blend, an unpretentious, full-bodied black tea sold in super markets at a modest price. When I moved to New York 10 years ago I persuaded Empire to order it for me and it is always stocked, and quite popular - despite the New York price tag.

By 4 PM I am heading back up 9th Avenue after a productive day painting. I didn't go to the parade. My ancestors are Irish, English, Scottish and Welsh in pretty equal parts so I choose not to celebrate any of the historically warring factions. The green revelers are more numerous now, and some are staggering. Here are some green wigs, there a green torso, lots of green trinkets. Outside Rudy's Bar and Grill at 44th Street I pause to admire the Swine on Nine. Today he is wearing a kilt!

 A reveler celebrating with the Swine on Nine

Saint Patrick's Day, NYC, 2010

Bluestockings

Stopped by the Pulse Art Fair launch party at the Thor hotel on the Lower East Side last night around 9:30 PM. French was being spoken all around me as a crowd of art fair visitors converged on the entrance. Inside everything was monochrome - white folk dressed in black, in a black and white interior. Cruised through the crowd enjoying the scene of packed sardines for awhile but realized my heart wasn't in it.

Stepped out into the fresh air and busy night of Rivington street and headed West towards the F train. Turned up Allen street and saw a sight which cheered me - the brightly lit windows of an old fashioned book store where studious, coffee-drinking people sat at small tables reading books and working at laptops, doors open to 11 PM.

Make mine a chamomile from the selection of loose teas in glass jars behind the counter. Perused the volumes on politics, activism, culture and gender issues. Found a seat and drank my tea, book in hand, while overhearing an animated conversation about the Verge Art Fair between a girl with dread-locks and a young man in Doc Martins eating Vegan noodle soup.

Bluestockings, 17 Allen Street. Great tea, interesting books, long hours, right in the heart of Lower East side gallery district. I'm heading back there soon.

Cup of the Day : Gwyneth Leech

India ink on white cardboard cup

Drawn at Artists Meeting, NYC

October 2008

Size small