Art and Shoes
Very rarely do I actually see something in a gallery that Id like to hang on my wall, or rather something practical that wouldnt make my place look like interior design equivalent of a Heatherette frock. I was at the [Daniel Cooney] art gallery admiring a pair of Michael Whittle ink drawings and talking to some random person who just happened to be nearby. Its very Zen-like she said Sort of like an Asian Mandala. I nodded in agreement, even though I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. I repeated the word back to her Man-Da-la, over-enunciating each syllable and cradling my fourth glass of wine. I stared at the piece a little longer, hoping the zen-like influence would do something to calm my aching feet.
I always make the mistake of hitting a gallery crawl in the most uncomfortable shoes, last night it was a pair of crocodile stamped leather John Fluevogs from last season, I fell in love with their 11/2 inch stacked heel, because it gives me that little extra height I wish I was born with and makes me feel like a rock star. When it came to footwear, the other crawlers made much more sensible choices: tennis shoes of all makes and models, shiny ballet flats, wedge heels and of course, flip flops (shudder), but I wasnt about to let their function-over-form mentalities beat me out. West 25th street was still mine for the taking, wine induced hazes and impending footcramps be damned!
I tackled the next half-dozen openings at a Benny Hill-like pace, beginning with the [Mark Morrisroe] photo exhibit and ClampART and ending with Kohei Yoshiyukis voyeuristic documentation of Tokyo sex parks at [Yossi Milo](http://www.yossimilogallery.com/). The latter was the most memorable considering the exhibition captured the raw, sexual desperation of 1970s urbanites through infrared photographs of faceless couplings and their spectators. And in an attempt to end on a high note, I thought this would be a good time to call it a night since the crowds were getting thick and yes, my feet were begging for the break that only a Brooklyn-bound subway ride could bring. Next week, Ill wear something more sensible does Johnston and Murphy make a shelltoe?
Photo from Kohei Yoshiyuki's series The Park.