014. Perfect Days
The kind of day you can only have in a city.
Yesterday, I finally watched Perfect Days (2023), a film by the German director Wim Wenders who is known for making the wonderful Paris, Texas (among other films) and looking amazing in Yohji Yamamoto.
I’m kind of averse to “feel good” media or any fictional tales that are supposed to restore our faith in humanity. I also was particularly skeptical of Perfect Days after learning it is basically propaganda for a Japanese public toilet project funded by the a Uniqlo heir. But it was Wenders’ choice to make a narrative film centered around the quiet, charmed life of a toilet custodian going about his days in Tokyo—he was initially commissioned by the government to make a documentary.
However, I found myself moved to tears around the fifteen-minute mark when the protagonist, Hirayama, produces an origami newspaper cup from his pocket, digs a seedling from the ground, and lovingly tucks it inside. We see that his compact apartment is neatly filled with books, VHS tapes, cassettes, and such rescued plants as the little sprout.
What I love about this film is that it highlights the very best aspects of living in a big city. Hirayama is quiet, observant, and easily amused by the world around him. He bikes around the city, frequents the same small eateries where the owners are always happy to see him, interacts with strangers, and takes photos of the trees he sees when he looks up. Despite the faithful repetitions of his daily life, there always seems to be room for the unexpected to creep in.
For me, these are always my most “perfect days.” The days that get hijacked by unexpected plans. The days that a stranger becomes a friend. The days that I feel the most “in” my city—visiting all of my familiar places and finding myself in new ones.
Friday, I had the feeling of being in one such perfect day. I met up with a friend to gallery-hop downtown and saw mostly beautiful art. Then a party at one of Williamsburg’s best little shops, Nomia, where there are some stunning lamps by Seskunas Architecture Workshop for sale. Thendinner,thendancing,thenkaraoke. Anyways, here are some gallery recs!
Forget-Me-Nots at 1969 Gallery (39 White Street) - I loved especially Dylan Williams’ soft and sweet paintings (reminded me a little of Katelyn Eichwald who I adore and made me miss Fortnight Institute in East Village which would always show her work) and TJ Rinoski’s muted and mysterious domestic scenes. If you were looking to actually buy something, 1969 is usually in the “affordable” range for young collectors and they aren’t weird and sneaky about pricing. You can just ask and they will give you the list.
Caroline Walker at GRIMM (54 Walker Street) - Walker is one of those painters whose work makes me want to run home and make art. I kept using this word to describe paintings the other day: “satisfying.” And looking at her beautifully rendered scenes, these ones of a “holiday park,” is so, so satisfying. My friend and I agreed that Walker deftly includes juuuuuust enough detail for her viewers to understand every gesture, every face, without indulging too much in any one moment. If you want to go stand in front of some giant, museum-quality figurative paintings of our modern era, these are good ones to take in. (And don’t miss the downstairs gallery, which is full of monochrome watercolors).
Lyric Shen at Silke Lindner (350 Broadway) - I love the layers of discovery in Shen’s work. Each piece is immediately beautiful and then offers the gratification that can be found in digging deeper to understand: what does it represent, what is it made of, how is it made, how did the artist arrive here? The hanging wall pieces are made using water transfer on porcelain, sealing images from Shen’s personal archives onto a traditional material not typically used as a printing surface. The effect is chunky, textured, and abstract, almost painterly.
Ava McDonough at SHRINE (368 Broadway) - Meticulously-rendered paintings revealing the organized design found in nature, which looks so wild and unruly and random from a distance. I loved the works as a group, with the two large paintings of perfectly manicured yards (a criss-cross mowed lawn and infinite rounded bushes, cropped and framed to exist as leafy patterns) sprinkled in amongst McDonough’s beautiful butterflies. I like the idea of these as works that unify the splintered “abstract” versus “figurative” modes of painting. How fun if we could have both at once!
Kent O’Connor at Matthew Brown (390 Broadway) - Is a pencil-drawing trend moment a recession indicator? (LOL- let’s laugh to keep from crying, y’all). Thinking also of the FANTASTIC Catherine Murphy show at Peter Freeman, Inc. which I did re-see on this outing. Anyways, don’t worry there are also a lot of really beautiful, Alice Neel-esque portraits and funky LA landscapes. I really loved this show, there’s a lot to look at, even the delicious handling of a subject’s chunky white Crocs. And a tiny painting of a clementine. Very sweet.
Go see stuff, art is medicine :) xx