If I could have dinner with any artist, it would be Johnny Depp. I am a huge fan of the actor, and I find his work to be unique and full of element, quality, and meaning. We would eat at a nice French restaurant because he has lived in France for a significant amount of time, and his children are fluent in the language as well. There would definitelybe a lot to talk about his living experience in France and how he finds it different from the United States. In addition, I would discuss his personal journey and how he feels that he, as both an actor and a person, has changed over the years. I would ask him why he doesn't watch his own films, how he chooses the various films that he undertakes, and how he consciously or unconsciously brands his self-image in the Hollywood industry. I find him to be an actor with tremendous depth and caliber, and it would be an honor to share a few hours with someone who can allow me to learn and absorb from his experiences on a personal level.
Whether it is her articulate diction, heart-wrenching plots, or moral underpinnings, Jodi Picoult has touched millions of people worldwide with her page-turning, scintillating books. From her poignant story of a girl whose existence is based on helping her sister fight leukemia to the tragic, yet complex tale of a man on death-row whose dying wish is to donate his heart to the sister of one of his victims, Picoult has opened up a Pandora’s box and has asked the reader to put it back together. I always yearn to read Picoult’s next novel, providing me with another opportunity to examine the challenges we face as mankind. For these reasons I would choose Jodi Picoult as the artist I would take on a dinner date. We would sit in a restaurant eating delicious pasta while sipping on sweet champagne. We would discuss a whole wide range of topics–––from the details she puts into her novels to the moral bedrocks of life her stories expose. I would ask her as many questions as I could and by the end of the evening I’m sure I would look down at my plate and realize I hadn’t had a chance to begin eating my pasta.
Dear Duchamp's Fountain,
The first time I ever saw you was in my AP Art History class I took my junior year of high school. You made me realize how art can be found all around us and every day. You weren't the first image of modern art I have ever seen, but you have become my representation in understanding what modern art is all about. You have resonated with me so well because during the AP Exam I was stumped on your name, and after I thought about it deeply, your name came to mind. I thank you for being so revolutionary and so representative of my personal art experience journey.
If I could have dinner with any artist it would be Max Feguson, who is well known for his paintings of urban environemnts in New York that depict scenes that are disappearing as we move farther into the 21st century. One particular painting I like is of his father eating a deli sandwich alone with a Dr. Brown's soda entitle Man in Restaurant (2005). If I could have dinner with this man, I would ask him about the disappearnace of old fashioned deli in New York City, and what gaps that will leave in the NYC communitty. Also, we would speak about why that dissapearance occured, and how to preserve this and other peices of NY cultural history.
Peter Campus, Kiva, 1971
I feel like the worst security camera in the world is surveilling me. Sure, it caught my deer-in-headlights reaction as I walked by for the first time, but now I’m sitting directly in its path and it can barely pick up the top of my head. If this thing were in a 7-11, I could literally rob an entire shelf of Chex Mix and it would be none the wiser.
It is a sneaky little camera though. For a while, I didn’t understand how the three parts worked together. The camera. The mirror with a perfect hole through the center. Another perfectly square mirror. They’re all moving in unison with each other—the camera’s spinning reflected in the image on the TV under it.
I don’t know, I’m a little jealous of this camera. He’s pretty sneaky and gets to take a video of the Andy Warhol and Mark Bradford while I can’t even take a picture. It’s outdated, and has an extremely distorted sightline, but it’s seeing things I could not on my own. The mirrors play off of each other, each reflecting a piece in another part of the gallery. With this, the camera is not a work standing alone. To succeed, it has to interact with other works and people in the space.
Now I’m nauseous. Not because I’m nervous that I’m going to get caught by this 1970s contraption stealing the Andy Warhol across the room, but because this thing won’t stop spinning. The mirrors are speeding up and slowing down, the image on the screen acting parallel. And my stomach and brain are spinning in suit.