Dave McKean And The Siren Song Of The West

In my advanced age I have lost the urge to venture far from my abode. Indeed, as far as the country of my birth is concerned I have yet to explore farther west than the Mississippi, choosing instead to traipse up, and occasionally down, the East Coast. Much of it has to do with climate, both in terms of weather and social temperament. Indoctrinated as I am to the curt, succinct interpersonal interaction of the Northeast, the lands to the west appear to my mind as a fetid morass where individuals languorously loiter on the street, holding court in a fashion that runs contrary to a matter of the utmost importance, i.e. arriving at my intended destination. I am in a rush people; I have no time for your greetings and salutations.

Yet, as of late, I have found myself looking towards California with something disturbingly not unlike longing. Last Saturday in Los Angeles, Coilhouse held a soiree for the launch of their magazine. Fortunately, my disappointment from missing that event was mitigated somewhat by the fact that I had, some time ago, fashioned cardboard standees of Zoe, Meredith, and Nadya. We had a wonderful evening. There was punch, chips, and three different kinds of dip. Don’t you judge me.

If that wasn’t bad enough only now I’m finding out that Dave McKean has had an exhibition at the Merry Karnowsky Gallery since July 19th, and it is ending this Saturday. Those of you who have chosen to settle in or near this fetid metropolis may want to check it out. I would utter a curse upon L.A. but that would be like kicking a two legged puppy; it has it bad enough without any assistance from me.

Dave McKean: Persistence of Vision [Merry Karnowsky Gallery] : Suzanne G.