Beatrix Ruf Knows Good Art

It’s the middle of the week at the end of a regular workday for Beatrix Ruf, director and chief curator of the Kunsthalle Zurich in Switzerland, an institution known for its compelling international contemporary art exhibitions. The sun is setting in the background, casting a shadow inside Ruf’s simply furnished office. Ruf looks relaxed in her black button-down shirt, as she casually picks up her lit cigarette, smoking it intermittently, discussing her passion for contemporary art, the significant role it plays in society, and her great admiration for artists. But there is nothing ordinary about Beatrix Ruf and the artists she works with.

She is applauded for her keen ability to recognize some of the rising stars in the contemporary art world, as well as nurturing existing relationships with many of the biggest names.

“Where Ruf goes, others follow.” That’s what ArtReview Magazine wrote in naming her the most influential person in the art world, ahead of celebrated artists, curators, museum and foundation directors, gallerists, and collectors including Tate Modern’s Nicholas Serota, Glenn D. Lowry of MoMA, and Hans-Ulrich Obrist of London’s Serpentine Gallery.

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Because I was too lazy to put on my reading glasses, and it was night time, I had difficulties trying to post a “selfie” on Facebook of moi in Central Park( a “selfie” being one of those narcissistic self portraits documenting our every move, and now officially recognized as a new word of the year by Oxford Dictionaries). By accident I pressed some function on my twitter account(hey the icons are both blue and white) and managed to invite all of my contacts that have ever existed to follow my tweets, even if I’ve deleted them years ago.

Over the last week I’ve been getting back these apologetic responses from old uncles and long lost friends, politely declining the tweeting invite.

The sad thing is, I really don’t tweet or even know what to tweet. And even if I did no one would notice cause I’m not that famous. Certainly not famous like Richard Branson or Sarah Silverman, who are the only tweets I follow. But a weekend ago, I felt pretty famous, and I didn’t even need to tweet.

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The Real Thing

When Martha Plimpton reached the podium in her striking black gown to receive the 2012 Primetime Emmy Award for Guest Actress in a Drama series (as Patti Nyholm) on CBS’s The Good Wife, she seemed in complete shock. Instead of listing off the usual thank-yous often heard at awards ceremonies, Plimpton’s heartfelt speech revealed just how privileged and fortunate she felt to be a working actress for over 30 years.

Appearing in over 30 films since her youth, she has graced the screen with performances in The Goonies, The Mosquito Coast and Running on Empty (co-starring River Phoenix, Plimpton’s boyfriend at the time). Plimpton, 42, a native New Yorker, currently stars as the no-nonsense, matriarch, Virginia Chance in the quirky hit FOX TV comedy, Raising Hope.

Added to the list of Plimpton’s accomplishments are three consecutive Tony Award nominations for her roles in The Coast of Utopia, Top Girls and Pal Joey – she has acted in numerous Broadway and Off-Broadway shoes, and is a member of the acclaimed Steppenwolf Theatre Ensemble, where she was recognized for her noteworthy performances in Hedda Gabler (2001) and The Libertine (1996) starring opposite John Malkovich.

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Halloween Hangover

Halloween is over. I’ve sampled almost every mini Nestle chocolate bar I dished out, sucked on some Twizzlers, and threw the unwanted packages of Skittles in a Ziploc baggie, to be dropped off at a homeless shelter next week.

It was an uneventful night.

Not enough kids, probably because we’re located at the very end of a dead end street, which is kind of spooky for those little supermen and princesses, who want a quick and easy supply of sugar to fill up their plastic pumpkins and grocery bags.

But I remember really spooky Halloweens. Psycho neighbours dressed up like Frankenstein who made me pee in my pants from fright, and one party at my parents’ home, back in the late 70’s. Aside from people vomiting everywhere, and a swarm of uninvited guests ending up in my parent’s bed and bedroom, there was music blasting from my boom box, people doing the Time Warp in my kitchen, and pseudo playboy bunnies and hippies gathered round the piano singing songs from the Phantom of the Paradise , that musical film from 1974, featuring singer/song writer, Paul Williams who played Swan.

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