Forget in Ten Parts, Part 4: Siobhan MacFarquar’s Diary

by Guy Forget on March 4, 2011 · 0 comments Forget in Ten Parts

Forget in Ten Parts is a ten-part weekly series by AFC's Curatorial Fellow, Guy Forget, focusing on the aesthetics of impermanence. This week Guy had lunch with Siobhan MacFarquar at the Olive Garden on 6th Ave.

Video still of Joseph Beuys singing in 1982.

Siobhan ordered the Five Cheese Ziti and I ordered Spaghetti with Italian Sausage. At the recommendation of our server she had a glass of the Mondavi Cabernet. I had a Bud Light. The salad and breadsticks were a delight, as usual. Siobhan had been setting up all day at the Armory and she was pretty stressed out. When I texted her she had been on her way to Gracious Home to get some stuff they needed for a complicated install. I was already at the Manhattan Mall doing some shopping, so it was perfect timing.

Siobhan knew I had started doing some things for Art Fag City and I asked her if there was anything she'd like to contribute. I explained how busy I’ve been lately — I had a few friends in town, a bunch of planning to do for the benefit auction I'm doing next month (conference calls, etc.) and still couldn't find anyone to fill my Tuesday thru Thursday morning shifts at Duane Reade.

Siobhan was generous enough to let me post her latest diary entry. That night she also sent me a link to one of her favorite scenes from Two and a Half Men.

3/1. Pop or Populus. Bettina Funcke. More or less a snooze fest. Finished in acute irritation, although it ended on a high note, the last few pages mentioning Reena Spaulings, Claire Fontaine, Bernadette Corp; Beuys' request to have the Berlin Wall raised 5cm (for aesthetic purposes). Got some references (potential) out of it — narrowed down/winnowed down some choices for the “theory” canon — Agamben, Benjamin, Adorno + Horkheimer, Rancière — Permanent Food (Cattelan); some other shit I can't remember. Not interested, though, in sloughing (?) through a secondary source — where original thoughts are basically absent. A pretentious, vaccuous [sic] masterpiece. The Who's Who of Acknowledgments. Will never forgive Johanna Burton for the lecture I sat through (the first part of her dissertation on Pictures, in conjunction w/ Richard Prince at Guggenheim). And these contemporary art theorist [sic] and their continuing reference to Marxism. Who gives a fuck. Surely there is more, which I’ve forgotten. That’s my fault.

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