Alright. We did it. Another Coachella, another slew of funny stories. The big topic this year: how art has activated the festival and made it something more than a bro-y drunken fluorescent H&M ad (I mean, don't get me wrong, it still is that, but now with with great art!) and yet, the event is still very much working out what it wants its relationship with artists to be. Of course, everyone on our side has formed some pretty clear ideas at this point.
Basically, LA Weekly nailed it (but if you can guess which artist told to go buy a Coachella poster one at the gift shop, I'll give you $10 . . . the amount in question, plus or minus some dignity).
I can't wait to fill you in with my ruminations on the emerging role of big art in the festival scene, because it's shaking things up and everyone's taking note. But In the mean time, I've been ruminating on something else for the last three weeks – grass, the pulverized polo fields at Empire Polo Club – and it's in my nose and mouth and making me sneeze.
The one downside of Coachella. 'Round week two, when the grass is all but dust and in every orifice you knew about and some you didn't . . . well, let me just say, playa ain't got nothing on it. Achew!
If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower. In the mean time, enjoy some pics and videos of our project this year, 2Squared.
