: :coming down the mountain: :
special report #2 - aGent rey, Y(J)erusalem.
and so i left. my mother (and father would he be here) will laugh. the
absolute wrong direction. i was seduced by the downhill (ref. uphill
slog on the way there) and didn't really think. i knew it was toward
tel aviv - just not toward the train station. so i get to the
precipice - a perennial favourite of mine - and seek guidance. nope,
wrong way, diametrically. on advice from boxer.com, who tells me
hitching is commonplace, i look up, i look down, i look silly, i take
off. down down down. thought i was going to wear a hole in the shoes
(courtesy agent x) with the vertical drop. massive speed, huge busses,
narrow margins. i'm on fire - haven't done this since the barcelona
decline. anyway, as they say, what goes down, must... hitch a bloody
ride back up. so moshe, an interior designer from jerusalem, gets the
gig of a lifetime. he spent a year in sydney, his wife curiously sat
in the back covered in luggage, and we chatted furiously. only problem
was - given that i had ambushed moshe at the bottom of the hill where
he had paused to reload - that he was only going to get me halfway.
that was 24 kms short of tel aviv, plus another few to jaffa.
its mid-morning, i have water, no sweat. first ride came easy enough -
second cant be famous last words again, could it? fame. i skate and i
skate, the sweat, the tears, the singing, the cursing, the insane
laughter, the freeway, the speed of the trucks and their proximity!
oh, the humanity! 'TEL AVIV!' painted on the bottom of the (former
art show) deck achieved little. actually nothing. i see a roadside
stop with police everywhere - i cunningly climb down the embankment
and sneak UNDER THEIR VERY NOSES and get back on freeway flying. the
trucks actually became my friends - the rush of wind as they fly past
gives me a little, unexpected kick. thanks fellas. an hour later, i
would LOVE to be picked up by the police. i am doing nothing wrong,
and my situation is unavoidable. i am now delirious. cue, police
siren. oops. i am resigned to whatever fate awaits when i open the
door and whoa - my ZZ Top Moment. the solo female officer
is...absolutely smokin'! i actually laughed. voluptuous, fully made
up, flicking hair and smiling flirtatiously as she tells me off. i
tell her she's pretty. it must be hard to be an attractive officer,
and i didn't help. she takes me about a mile down the road and
diverts off to a backstreet - i only later realise adding several
kilometers to the already herculean task. back on
deck. some hours later, as i finally enter tel aviv from the N/E, i
pass by the ubiquitous sports stadium where not a week previously i
saw what must be an endangered species - a phil collins. filed in the
'where is he now file' since ... well, for me since he was flown by
concorde so he could play BOTH live aid concerts way back in '85.
though he married a jewish girl, apparently he was outed as a former
neo-nazi anti-semite skinhead. and i thought he was just prematurely
bald! anyway, the press achieved a positive outcome when phil
acquiesced to leave hampstead heath (playing cards over tea with boy
george and george michael) and play tel aviv. the locals hadn't seen
anything like it - and for those of us roaming around the stadium all
night (i was a clockwise person. 'others' were anti-clockwise. shiver)
we never actually did see him - but heavens above...The Hits! back to
back, wall to wall, start to finish set full of Hits. i was seriously
ecstatic when the drum solo from 'in the air tonight' boomed out. does
anyone know the actaul story of that song - the guy (protagonist)
invited to a massive concert, front row, singled out by phil...blah
blah - if so do tell me. anyway, for the next week in tel aviv and
jerusalem, if i heard one phil song i heard a hundred - cafes,
hostels, cars, churches, monasteries...really struck a chord did phil.
and why not? unlikely looking pop star, to be sure, but he can hold a
tune, and the sentiments expressed...well, i will never lose billy's
number again. anyway, with that, i knew i had arrived, and the old
jaffa hostel - with the permanent residents going quietly insane -
welcomed me back with customary warmth and hospitality. they changed
the code at the front door.
: :theCalling: :
aGent rey - special report from mountain top.
Act I - the chorus of fighting cats and chickens up way early (or
waaay late) made way for Act II - howling dogs and ravens (who don't
sleep). polite applause provided by volleys of small arms fire close
to the east. i lay and fed the local mosquitos; they paid me with
their soft humming, lulling me back from sleep all night. this, my
first night in jeruslem.
a jesuit priest in london had suggested i pay a visit to cardinal
martini at his residence at the biblicum. with a flimsy pretext and
the requisite pilgrim attire (emphasis on the grim), i duly landed on
the doorstep, somewhat humbled by his reputation as The Man Who Would
Be Pope... if the german hadn't snagged it first. ah, politics. though
he be in rome, the Entourage kindly invited me back for lunch, so i
could gorge myself on the fish (excellent) and stuff myself with piety
my plan to skateboard from tel aviv to jerusalem thankfully was
thwarted by a train. a train i caught. my desire for A Journey was
provided unexpectedly....the station is about 1000 vertical metres
below the old city. or so it felt, lugging a useless piece of
equipment uphill for nearly two (2) hours. of course, the arrival is
breathtaking (and this from a recently confirmed non-smoker)...the
atmosphere unlike any i have experienced. there is good reason why
three (3) significant religions lay claim to this, actually rather
small, city as their foundation. if i was a religion, i would too.
at a restaurant in the jewish quarter (the best food) i was bailed up
by the impressive rabbi avraham goldstein. must be the pilgrim attire
again. he said i had a jewish heart - i replied i had been told that
before - maybe a past life? which would mean a catholic lad discovers
his jewish roots through buddhism. very jerusalem. he invites me to
his yeshiva to have a talk. the next morning, outside the southern
wall of the city, i am doing my exercises (physical that is) and
noticed how appallingly neglected an archaeologically excavated (and
fenced) section of ground was. the yeshiva was not 100 metres away, at
the top of Mt Sion, in a holy shrine which housed both the tomb of
King David and the very room where the last supper took place. I had
my Calling. forget carrying crosses and tending lepers - i was on yard
for the next two days, in blazing sunshine, i removed a total of 22
garbage bags of detritus, and about 30 cardboard boxes of camel
excrement from a hillside not bigger than half a soccer pitch (the
international unit of measurement). i am sunburnt and dehydrated, but
deeply satisfied. el rey has his realm on mt zion! though rabbi
mordechai goldstein - dean of the yeshiva and avraham's father (and
even more impressive) - had me slated for repainting marble memorials
(the Art thing), i had my Calling and he respected that. the humblest
of humble for me.
shabat shalom! on my way to my second (2nd) friday night shabat
dinner, i quite literally walked a mile in their shoes. it was
required by rabbi that i wear a yanucha (sp), which i felt was
necessary to wear on my way there too, for sincerity. so, from my
lodgings in the arab quarter, off i go, shabat shalom! all the way,
the happiest catholic/buddist/jewish boy in all jerusalem. dinner
was... theatrical - an all-singing, table banging, torah-analysing,
story-telling affair. though i knew not the hebrew, the tunes were
catchy, and the rabbi deigned to sermonise in english - i like to
think for my benefit. i am invited back tomorrow. the dead sea can
wait another day.
more news as it comes to hand,
aGent rey, c/o the Promised Land
: :Telegram posting: :
ola all- can only be a minute STOP
! yep, in spain!STOP
be back in Oz by dec 1, the revamped p`lan STOP
! i will have an extra for christmas - nisian from ny is coming out STOP
that is all STOP
: :Some new old stuff: :
[thomasr]- Some works previously not on the site
: :London, then something else...: :
Hello all- in the wilds of london, back from paris. happy and productive working on paintings for LA.weather is usually quite lovely london mid autumn. paris was beautiful. i skated the length and breadth of paris of 5 days or so, saw the louvre and d'orsay et al. there are a couple of commissions in london before i leave, then begin the journey home, with stops. spain, mostly. its a great place, and i am very fond of anton. barcelona late autumn.
: :gagosian, con't: :
The Secret Agency SoHo, NY
To the unnamed security personnel,
You may recall an incident at the gallery one week ago today. As part of a wider public statement on the status and perceptions of those with special needs, a performance art piece was conducted in this very space. This letter is an acknowledgement of your – albeit unwitting – role in the show. As you would appreciate, this is a very sensitive issue – one that touches many, yet is consciously ignored by most. We are aware that our actions were open to criticism and possibly mis-interpretation – as artists this is common, even necessary.
Your conduct in a confronting and difficult situation was exemplary, worthy of our acknowledgement and utmost respect. Indeed, it was the consideration and sympathy you displayed that was one of the more notable outcomes of the day. It is our sincerest hope that, although in this case your sentiment was ill-directed, you do not lose faith in the spirit of spontaneous kindness, nor hold animosity toward the
We did not choose this gallery for any personal reasons – simply the esteem with which Gagosian Gallery is held in the art and wider community made it the obvious choice of venue. Please pass on our best regards to all, and humblest apologies for any inconvenience or alarm.
Hopefully one day we can all look back and say that among many days, that was a day I remember.
Our best wishes and good luck in all your endeavours.
Yours sincerely, rey + X
: :gagosian gallery: :
Gagosian Gallery - tues 19th July, 2005
Monday, July 18, 12:30pm…a stretcher measuring 12' x 12' (unstretched)
is wheeled from the artists' studio in Soho to the rendezvous point on 31st st, between 9th and 10th.
4-8pm…stretched on the roof of the 12th floor.
8pm – 4:30am…an image of agent x in wheelchair is painted.
Tuesday, July 19, 2pm…canvas removed, stretcher transported to 25th st for re-stretching.
3pm…agent x, with disability care worker (his father) wheeling the chair, enters Gagosian Gallery on the corner of 24th and 11th.
3:10 the canvas is carried around from 25th st to the front window, where it is glued to the front window – filling the entire space.
3:25 the gallery director and staff outside, perplexed, wondering who, why and what to do next. Painting taken down, moved, moved back, and finally taken in to stock room.
3:35 – 4pm increasing concern for the abandoned special needs person left in the main gallery. Patient is uncommunicative and without
discernable response. No identification.
4pm-5pm (closing time) mild panic. Conjecture over authenticity of abandoned s.n. person. Security wish to call police, staff wish to call ambulance, gallery director decides to wait.
5pm agent x takes chair and purposefully walks/runs out of gallery, thanking security staff for their genuine concern on his way out. Painting is locked in store room.
: :3document exhibition: :
Press Release July 28, 2005
42nd street is bracing for a return to its former glory as New York's
Red Light district.
Local identity Nisian Hughes, and international peacekeeper Stephen Reynolds (aka aGents X and rey, of the.secret.aGency) have secured space at 217 E 42nd street (btn 2nd and 3rd) for their upcoming art show – 3docUmenT.
Notable for their multi-form approach and high profile art stunt-work, X and rey have a prolific and diverse offering come late August. Working in the window stage at the venue before, during and after the August 25 opening party, the Amsterdam-style 'girl for sale in window' theatric will be the starting point for their exploration of all things art, sex and provocative aesthetic. Life-drawing from the street, dancing chickens and art vending machines, will sit comfortably or otherwise next to short films, traditional oil paintings, works on paper (sold by the square inch) and both collaborative and competitive paintings and drawings. In a Lazy Susan-style carousel of daily art, X and rey chronicle the images of this extraordinary life and times.
In the academic tradition of finding truth through parallel and intersecting reports, X and rey have been documenting the philosophical undercurrents of several significant cities. By recording these events, sentiments or inspirations in a variety of media, the viewer is invited to observe both the process, outcome and event itself. Homelessness on the streets of London; depravity and decadence expressed through ballet at the Metropolitan Opera; disability and the art world. What happens when two artists like the same girl? Is it unlawful to steal your comrade's painting from an art fair? How much does love cost?
Hence, we have 3docUmenT, a sprawling and significant attempt to provoke and promote the mis-understood and the obvious, in unequal measure. To quote their recurring inspirant, German film-maker Werner Hertzog, "…it's not that I hate the jungle. I love it very much. However it is a love against my better judgement. "
: :tom lec's skate i stole....: :
sorry, lec...i have constructed a new weapon...it is, naturally, all yours...
: :This is my house, this is my street: :
: :Press release.. of sorts: :
me i'm back in NY as you would already know - i like the grapevine for it always adds its own touch of drama and intrigue.
i'm workinmg a lot, shooting various things and painting/drawing as well.