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by Charlie Finch
|As I was walking through the city
I spied the souk of Pipolitti
(Oops, I'm just a little grotty,
her name is really Pipilotti!!)
In a Chanel suit
she beckoned me
(A reet petite Ms. Rist is she) --
I'm in a Swiss apartment now,
of 16 videos in the chairs,
the books, the floor, the trellis
(I bet Tony Oursler's jealous) --
A '60s trip so bright and winning
and yet it's only the beginning:
In back of Luhring Augustine
two videos beckon,
crisp 'n clean --
One has Pipilotti's ears
permeate celestial spheres.
Another features our Ms. Rist
in polka dots, a female priest,
revealing thoughts in her third eye
(mostly of a naked guy),
while she wanders 'round the town,
Just like us,
part sage, part clown.
The big thrill at the private view
(so cheap, we think, and not so new)
was Pippi's camera in the toilet
(before you sell it, boys, please boil it!!)
The swell's beheld their fundaments
(that's funny, Pip, I now dissent)
Like MoMA's Storr, who bragged to me,
"I saw myself just take a pee"
Outside, Ms. Rist don't break a sweat
and puffed a funny cigarette --
we bowed down to her orange Chanel,
kissed her hand and wished her well:
"Whether Pipillott or Itti,
You've found the key to this art city!"
Pipilotti Rist, Apr. 8-May 27, 2000, at Luhring Augustine, 531 West 24th Street, New York, N.Y. 10011.
CHARLIE FINCH is coauthor of Most Art Sucks:
Five Years of Coagula (1998).