March 6, 2020

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This film, in short, is about reflection and redemption. It was built to inspire our intimate nature and encourage the idea of selflessness. Please check out our page for more info; thank you for all of your support!

• Director/Writer: Derek Osinski
• Producer: Erin Miracle

Inclusion Statement

I believe that the older community is underrepresented in film, so that is why I wrote a script surrounding that demographic. I simply adore ethnicity in film as well; it gives a sense of inclusion and therefore inherent uniqueness to any film with well-rounded characters and backgrounds.

About The Project

The story, ‘Chicken or Fish?’, fully embodies and embraces my eternal being. It has stuck with me for several years and during that time, it has adapted into something that I couldn’t be any prouder of. The mere essence came to me at a Christmas Eve party two years ago, I was a freshman in Film School at the time. I remember this elderly couple, who, didn’t seem elderly at all… Rather, they transcended time and space with their abundant energy—they spoke on their 40th anniversary. As it turns out, the last scene of the picture is what ended up happening. After a series of joyous recollections, the waiter became fed up and, in turn, responded with the now all-encompassing quip, “Chicken or Fish?”.

It seems as though this quote single-handedly inspired the entirety of the script, but that would prove irrelevant when the true theme presented itself…reflection. I find this theme isn’t often explored in student films, certainly not with older folk as the main cast of characters. It just so happens that the phrase, ‘Chicken or Fish?’, plays harmoniously into this idea—when you reflect, you determine what you did wrong and what you did right. This is nothing revolutionary by any means. It’s actually one of the more accessible concepts that is easily translated onto the big screen. Some would even suggest that it’s a “cop out” altogether. Normally I would concur with this suggestion however, I find, ‘Chicken or Fish?’, uses this tool in a graceful and seemingly justified manner.

I encourage the audience to understand that life is about reflection. If there is something greater in this world, which I am inclined to believe, then it is imperative that we incorporate reflection into our daily lives. Young or Old, we were given a conscience to determine such things. The protagonist of this picture, Marvin, is a man literally at the end of his rope. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he can’t seem to break out of the cage or the bottle. He’s trapped in the terrible disease that is alcoholism, and his wife is suffering in the wake. It’s unmistakably relatable even if there’s not a single person in your inner circle tormented by this formidable illness. I want people leaving this film with a revolution in their hearts. Whether it be for themselves or somebody close to them, this film has the power for re-evaluation.

Living without a father is not easy, and every day it’s an uphill battle. The way I relate to Marvin is just that, my father passed away when I was nine months old. It’s two different examples of the same tragedy, Marvin knew his father and I didn’t. Conversely, having an alcoholic father might feel like you never knew him either—this is the stance I take in the film. The line goes as follows, “Come have a drink with your old man, the one we never got to have.”. In my mind, sharing a drink with someone is synonymous with getting to know them. I feel I am qualified for this reason as well as the religious themes planted throughout.

In terms of originality, I would argue this film has an unprecedented amount. As stated previously, this film fully encompasses and embraces my eternal being. I was made to tell this story and I was made to tell it now. I want people to become comfortable with regret, it’s a natural part of life. Nobody on the face of the Earth has played every single card correctly because there’s only so many good cards within a deck. You are required to lose hands, more so than win them. We see more of Marvin’s downfalls than his triumphs because that’s life and that is how we perceive life.

Moreover, the style of the film resonates with that idea perfectly. There is trials he’ll have to overcome in order to become more cognizant of his deteriorating marriage and life. Some surrealistic, some undeniably real, and some in between. It’s an experience of life with regret, not a linear story similar to our own. Regret tends to bounce around and alter the truth simply due to the way we feel. There’s a sense of duality with regret, even at our most vulnerable thoughts comes positive ones to reminisce on. Regret tells the story and pulls the strings; I am but only the puppet.

Indeed. Truly it is a melancholy existence, and ‘Chicken or Fish?’, is no exception. But within that, love is a beautiful relic and is the closest thing we have to the idea of spiritual paradise. As Shakespeare once efficiently said, “My love is deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”.

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January 28, 2020

Article by Miranda Seaver

Venue: The Regency Ballroom

Featuring: The Edwardian World’s Faire 2020

I was a weird kid. If you know me, even tangentially, this probably doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

I spent a majority of my formative years dressed in ill-fitting thrift store suits, making campfires at the park and carving Pink Floyd lyrics into tree stumps with my brother’s switchblade. I’ve since grown up, and every so often I have been hit with a sense of un-direction. I mean, where do weird kids go when they aren’t kids anymore?

On January 24, I learned the answer to that question: they go to The Edwardian World’s Faire.

The Edwardian Ball is described on their website as “an elegant and whimsical celebration of art, music, theatre, fashion, technology, circus, and the beloved creations of the late, great author and illustrator Edward Gorey”. You may recognize Gorey from his grim black and white drawings depicting old-timey, high society-types. Or, if you’re like me, perhaps you have vague memories of The Gashlycrumb Tinies, an alphabet book consisting entirely of children dying terrible deaths. I’ll admit I don’t know much about his work aside from the feeling of indescribable dread it gave me when I was young, so I turned to a more knowledgable friend to ask what she believed attracted people to the Gorey’s work and aesthetic.

“His macabre subjects and the gallows humor,” she said, “accompanied by the lifework that can range from stark to densely-packed with lines… And a lot of it, though not necessarily macabre, just feels bizarre.”

So what type of people are drawn together in the same of such a bizarre man?

I arrived to The Regency Ballroom about an hour ahead of time, which worked in my favor as the line stacked up quickly. What really struck me first was how elaborate the costumes I saw were. There was a blend of fashion and technology that fit in well coming from the culture of Silicon Valley. I was lucky enough to be in line behind Greg and Lora Price from Steamy Tech in Santa Clara. Their ensemble was drawing in a lot of attention from passersby, especially Greg with his modified top hat containing four wooden walls of light and moving gears. This was built by hand, as was the pendent around Lora’s neck that lit up and acted as a sort of decibel meter.

Steamy Tech works with laser cutters, 3-D printers, and basic programming to create motorized trinkets and kits you can put together on your own. And Greg and Lora are regulars at the Edwardian Ball, coming each year with a new wooden pin to give out. I saw several guests donning this year’s pin of a scroll and quill, along with designs from previous years. It was clear to me that there was a tight-knit community surrounding the Ball, of which Greg and Lora were a vital part.

When the doors finally opened to the crowd I was one of the first inside. And god, there was a lot to look at. The Edwardian Ball takes up three floors of the Regency Ballroom. When you first enter there’s the Grand Ballroom, a vast space with people on stilts and posed on platforms. There were a lot of photo opportunities, from the flying alligator in the center of the room to the set pieces modeling different Edward Gorey stories from previous years. Below that is the Vendor Bazaar, where artisans sell their handcrafted goods, and two stories up is a more intimate space, with the Fireplace Stage and the Museum of Wonders.

Needless to say, I was lost in a heartbeat and overwhelmed almost immediately. Three floors, each packed with entertainment for the entirety of the night. There was a period of time while the line along the block was filing in (There was a metal detector at the door and almost everyone’s costumes had some amount of metal in them), and I used that period to take in the space while it was still relatively empty.

I enjoyed the Museum of Wonders, a hall of oddities reminiscent of a carnival funhouse with a cage containing the severed hands of the Baba Yaga, and a mermaid skeleton displayed in a case. Outside of that I got to see Belinda Blair’s Mechanical Doll, a performance piece where Blair posed as an animatronic doll that would come to life and play a song on her ukulele for anyone willing to toss her a few coins or trinkets.

The street performer energy was strong here, from the actual performers to the lavishly dressed patrons. There was a figure in a fox mask with an luminescent cape that glided through the ball on a pair of roller blades, and another one in a massive skeletal headpiece. The show was incredible, yes, with performances by the dancers of Le Cancan Bijou and the incredible acrobatics and contortionists of The Vau de Vire Society. But what really struck me about the Edwardian Ball were the people that were attending it.

I got the chance to speak with a few of them, and with the ghost of my younger self on my mind, I asked them all what they would say to the weird kids of the past and future.

There was a range of answers, but what I heard again and again was that things get better. One man advised that old clothes come in handy – which, as a lifelong Goodwill advocate, I can definitely agree with. And I spoke with a young woman in a mohawk and ballgown about her thoughts on the subject.

“Don’t stop being weird,” she said. “Other guys are going to some lame house party tonight, and I’m going to have a fabulous time watching people be themselves and be amazing and feel great about themselves. And what’s not great about that?”

This really struck me. Because, while Edward Gorey’s work is rather restrained, the Ball is anything but. These people are here to celebrate – celebrate themselves, each other, and the spark in Gorey’s work that pushed them to continue. And there’s something wonderful about that. There’s a magical quality in the spectacle of it all, the sense of joy without judgement.

When I left the party was still going on, and I left with with a sense of community that I’d never known before. After this weekend the patrons of the Ball will go back to their everyday lives, scattered all across the Bay Area. They’ll be working their jobs, going about their days, perhaps even passing you on the street. You might see them draped in regalia, or they might look so inconspicuous that you don’t notice them at all.

So take their advice, reader, and keep it weird. You might feel like you’re the only one, but that’s far from the truth.

They’re out there. We’re out there. You just have to know where to look.

January 3, 2020

Article by Miranda Seaver

Venue: San José Museum of Art

Featuring: Almost Human: Digital Art from the Permanent Collection

I love my robots.

There’s an Amazon Echo in my bedroom who fills my room with lo-fi hip-hop beats on nights when insomnia has the best of me. There’s a second Echo in the living room – we call her “Computer” to prevent any miscommunication between her and her sister – and a Google Home in my parent’s room. We talk to them several times a day, to ask questions when we’re stoned and curious or hungry to win an argument. It’s a strange relationship between us and our new artificial assistants. Yes, they’ve been proven to listen to their surroundings at all times, so we’ve essentially volunteered to bug our house in the name of Capitalism. But it’s 2019, and that’s just the type of thing people are willing to do now.

This is the world of Almost Human, from the permanent collection of the San José Museum of Art. Black Mirror, eat your heart out.

If you have your finger on the pulse of the SJ art scene, you might notice that some pieces from Almost Human were featured at the San Jose Institute of Contemporary Art a while back, but the exhibit has truly been given the chance to flourish in the new and larger space. They’ve also added some interactive elements, including Ian Cheng’s Emissary Forks for You, a self-described “neurological gym” starring a virtual dog (A Shiba, for those who want the full picture) who guides you through the gallery from the screen of a Google Tango tablet.

I’m always a fan of any art that pulls me from the muck of the everyday, and that’s exactly what happened as I circled the room, head down to the tablet in my hands, and watched in wonder as the environment shifted around me. Each reset of the simulation is a different route, and you could potentially play ad infinitum, following the occasional demands of your tiny pupper until you get bored, or dizzy, or until the tablet freezes like it did for me after ten minutes of wandering. Which doesn’t come as much of a surprise if you consider the limits of basic game design, and it certainly doesn’t take away from the experience as a whole.

What I believe to be the most outstanding, and most relevant theme of Almost Human is the overlap between technology and humanity. It’s seen in more literal ways, such as in Jim Campbell’s duo piece Photograph of My Mother and Portrait of My Father, where he presents two photos of his parents that blur and turn clear following the rhythm of the his body. You can stand in front of both of them and watch his life echo over their own, two generations phasing in and out over each other. It’s like watching life without life. Truly a surreal experience.

I found the most enjoyment, however, in the chance to watch what appears to be technology in the process of learning, and doing so in a way that’s almost childlike. I saw it in Diane Thater’s Untitled (Butterfly Videowall #2), five flat screen monitors arranged in a star-shape on the floor, each showing a single shot of a monarch butterfly. They’ve stretched the shot over all screens, giving the image a disjointed and hazy quality, similar to how it feels to try and recall a memory from infancy. It’s there, yes, but your brain holds it a different way, distorting the image slightly and bathing it in the faint glow of nostalgia.

My favorite work in the whole exhibit is Listening Post by Mark Hansen and Ben Rubin. It’s a massive wall of LED modules on support beams, along with speakers hanging strategically around a near-black room. The piece’s main feature is its algorithms and custom software that pulls data from online chatrooms and organizes them into “movements” that are then displayed on screen and narrated through the speakers, creating a soundscape that travels around the space.

I sat there for a long time, in the dark, watching this massive machine displaying statements from its massive cache of uncensored internet data. At one point it was just spelling, scrolling through letters to make words. I could’ve sat there for a lot longer, if nothing else then to see how much information this software had gathered.

Because, strange as it may seem, we’re rapidly approaching a time when that’s all we can do. We’re in an age where we’re no longer “surfing the web” with chunky desktop computers and cacophonous dial-up modems. Technology is creating a new form of art that feels entirely present to the now, an elusive, yet constantly-present moment that is born, aged, and dead all at the same time. It’s art that’s ageless and constantly evolving. And it’s only going to grow – but into what, I can’t say.

All in all, Almost Human is definitely an exhibit worth experiencing. Bring your Echo if you have one. I bet she’d like it.

December 3, 2019

Article by Miranda Seaver

Venue: San Jose Institute of Contemporary Art

Featuring: Sense of Self – Exhibition

We’re all just trying to understand things. To know ourselves, each other, and the ways the past and future play in all our hands.

I can define myself by my qualifiers. I’m a woman – brown hair, brown eyes, five foot six and around two hundred pounds. I am a writer, a lesbian, and I’ve been in the throws of mental illness for most of my life. But these are all just words, and they tend to fall away whenever I cross paths with that enigmatic shape that meets my eyes in every reflective surface. Leaving…what, exactly?

Identity. History. These are the themes that play in Sense of Self, a photography exhibition at the San Jose Institute of Contemporary Art (November 9, 2019 – March 15, 2020).

In this day and age, the art of portraiture is more accessible then ever. There’s no time wasted posing for a painting or waiting for a first-generation camera to develop. Anyone can get a camera, and because of that the depth of perspectives has grown to fit the modern world. Thus is the focus in Sense of Self, where the previously silent voices of queer and POC artists have been brought into the spotlight to flourish in the public eye.

And it’s beautiful, joyous and passionate. There’s a certain hunger for representation and understanding that goes quiet after long enough, only to rush forward as soon as you find that moment of true connection. Take Jamil Hellu, who stepped out from behind the camera to join his subjects from the LGBTQ community in their own interpretation of themselves and their culture. Each title is a quote from the person in the picture. Take the portrait of the leather-bound butch with an American flag balled in her mouth and her first raised in power, titled “When people think of America, they don’t think of someone who looks like me,” voiced Crystal Mason before putting the flag in her mouth. The photographer is seen dressed in matching leather, knelt at her side, turning himself into a prop to further push the power in her stance. He’s done more than document her, he’s joined her in her own perspective, forming a connection far beyond that of photographer and subject.

Or consider Tammy Rae Carland’s series On Becoming: Billy + Katie 1964, a collection of portraits providing fictional representations of Carland’s own parents. She plays both mother and father, framing herself in the early 20th century, gathering laundry from a backyard line or nursing a pint at an unknown bar. These are photos based on ideals and fantasies, as only one actual photograph of Carland’s parents exists. Because of that you get a sense of a mirror reflecting a mirror, as she reconnects the fraying ends in her family history.

While Carland uses her own self to solve her past, Erica Deeman uses her identity to capture the complex beauty of black masculinity. She bathes her subjects in shades of brown similar to her own skin tone, once again blurring the lines between photographer and subject. There’s an open intimacy to the portraits, depicting a true moment of vulnerability. As if they don’t know they’re being watched. Like they feel safe.

Because that’s what makes this collection of portraits so extraordinary, the safety and empowerment that makes the models bloom in front of the camera instead of wither or shy away. You really get the sense that there is a connection being made between artist and model, or even between the artist and themselves. Rules are questioned, pushed, and in some cases broken entirely to better showcase the state of the world today and the lives of the people inside it. It’s not perfect, but that’s the point. To quote a poem by Marcela Pardo Ariza used to go alongside their work Kin Skin: “Kin is messy. It’s viscous, sticky, malleable at its best. Uncontrollable. Sweet and bittersweet; so easy to smear. Contagious.”

It’s so easy to feel alone in the world, and empty within yourself. That’s why portraiture has gained a new importance. It shows more than a face, it shows the interlocking web of history and community that makes up a single human life.

So next time the light hits you or your friend, don’t be afraid to catch a picture. It may feel silly – but that right there is your kin. And as Ariza ends their poem, “Kin is what keeps us here”.

October 17, 2019

Article by Miranda Seaver

Venue: San José Museum of Art

Featuring: Beta Space: Pae White – Exhibition

I am a child.

I must be six, maybe seven, and my parents have dragged me along with them to the hardware store. They have their own business to attend to, so much so that they’ve all but tossed me aside so they could focus their attention on doorknobs and light fixtures. And since this is still the dawn of the Smartphone Age, I have nothing to distract myself. So I take to wandering through the aisles, toying vaguely with these artifacts of a life miles away form my own. It’s not much, but few things pass the time better than ascribing great intent to a meaningless subject.

Well over a decade later I still fall into similar habits. Some people call it “window shopping”, but that doesn’t quite capture what I’m sure we all did as children. The separation, I think, is comprehension. If you walked into somewhere like a hardware store today, you could likely place most of the items on the shelves. As a child, however, disconnected from context and vocabulary, it’s all shapes. Textures. Colors and light. That’s where the magic of these kinds of exploration comes in – from the gentle vulnerability of surrendering yourself to the sense memory of a new situation.

This is where we find ourselves in Beta Space, Pae White’s collection of old and new work organized to celebrate the San Jose Museum of Art’s 50th anniversary.

Pae White is a multimedia artist specializing in the exceptional quality existing in what most would consider mundane. Her current exhibit contains two notable installations that take up the space with an astounding scope. There’s foreverago (2017), a massive tapestry running at 127 feet long. It snakes through the center of the exhibit’s small room, coiling into little alcoves one can stand and be surrounded by cotton, cashmere and metal. You can watch it for it’s details, specially the scattered insects and depictions of psychoactive plants. Or you can let your eyes blur and focus on the colors and shapes, patches of silver and gold, and the most perfect shade of mauve.

The second biggest piece is AGAMEMNOMICS (2013), a massive collection of toys and tchotchkes lined up in a long case that stretches across most of the room. The work started off when White found a number of forgotten toys while in Vienna. With them she fashioned a chess set, and she took photos of nine different pieces and sent them to artists and fabricators all across the world, from Los Angeles to Germany and China. From there they created their own interpretation of the toy, made in the material of their choice. From that point on she amassed a series of mirrors in front of mirrors, reflections echoed enough to fade familiarity into only its barest outline.

And suddenly you’re a child again, wandering around your guardian’s orbit and taking in things you’re too young to understand. It’s a warm feeling, especially in the realm of art world academia, to see an exhibit from your heart and not your head. White’s work has been described as kinesthetic, being “as much a bodily as visual experience that plays with the senses”. Her focus is on our relationship with the ordinary, something that all too many of us take advantage of on a day-to-day basis.

You can do that for yourself even outside of Beta Space. Perhaps when you wake up in the morning you can dedicated a bit more thought to the things you usually ignore. Feel the way the bristles of your brush feel against your teeth, or how the heat gathers in your coffee cup. Curiosity doesn’t go away – not really – it just sometimes needs a little push to rise to the surface. That’s what Pae White is working towards.

So let her help you. Come loose yourself in Beta Space – at least, until your parents are ready to go.

August 5, 2019

Article by Jon Bauer | SAT, AUG 3, 2019, 10PM

Venue: Pier 70, San Francisco, California

Featuring: 2019 Gray Area Festival – Pierce Warnecke Live – ISM Hexadome

Endless Growth (Data Decay v3) is an audiovisual performance by Pierce Warnecke using data to illustrate dynamic ecosystems. Generated from data on population growth, pollution emissions, resource extraction, and global GDPs, this work questions how unbounded growth of humanity is incompatible with our finite planet—it may ultimately result in saturation and irreversible damage. Data Decay is an ongoing series of abstract sonification and visualization works, generated from datasets to convey interconnecting relationships through an audiovisual language.

July 30, 2019

Article by Jon Bauer | MON, JUL 29, 2019, 8:30PM

Venue: Pier 70, San Francisco, California

Featuring: 2019 Gray Area Festival – ISM Hexadome

From July 25 through August 3, the ISM Hexadome will be presented at Pier 70 in San Francisco in two parts. Each evening we will present the full Exhibition in two distinct Segments, featuring the exhibiting artists as listed.

July 16, 2019

Article by Jon Bauer | SAT, JUL 13, 2019, 8:00PM – 2:00AM

Venue: The Midway, San Francisco, California

Featuring: IllUM Art.Tech.Music (GAIKA vs. Madam X, The Flashbulb + More)

April 8, 2019

Article by Meaghan Alfonso | Competition 3 – SUN, MAR 24 2019, 1PM

As always, the GLAS Animation Festival brings in the most creative and experimental animated shorts to its competitions. The weekend long festival lineup consists of so many artists of different ‘languages’ of animation and personalities that you are always inspired. Aside from the Shorts Competitions, the festival also holds workshops, guest speakers, and even Nickelodeon Meet-and-Greets! To give you a taste of what the showings are all about, I’ve listed and described a few of my favorites from the Sunday showing (Competition 3):

CHIMERA by Caleb Wood

After this two minute short, I’ve decided that Caleb Wood is probably one of my new favorite animators. His weaving loops are amazingly well done, and you get engulfed by this slimy totem pole of flesh. A slow camera pan up this living gruesome, breathing thing makes you appreciate what Caleb has created here. He starts out with an unknown creature’s fetus still in its’ womb, and then we follow up this fragile creature’s umbilical cord. The scene turns from something familiar into a hybrid of multiple living beasts all feeling like they share the same heart. We also can’t forget about the sound design, by David Kamp, which ties this whole animation together. I know that most of us don’t remember the sounds of being inside a live being, though we all can recognize it. The sound starts with a heartbeat, and it’s quiet, and you feel alone in this huge space. You can hear the stretching and squishing of something, then you hear multiple creatures and lungs all trying to breathe and survive together as one being.

AGOURO by David Doutel and Vasco Sa

It is easy to appreciate all of the techniques that was used to create Agouro. The layers of oil paint creates these textures in the background and sets a specific mood for the story. It is set somewhere in the mountains during a cold, harsh winter so the neutral colors are a perfect resemblance of being in such a high altitude. Each frame of animation is colored and outlined in a messy way that makes you feel uncomfortable and aggravated, but not in a negative way. It will leave you feeling as though you need to cherish the life you have.

SOLAR WALK by Réka Bucsi (Director, Writer, and Editor)

Reka Busci’s work is so unexplainably remarkable, I don’t think explaining it will even make sense. It is bizarre, yet somewhat real. Her work is such a great blend of alien and human. She starts with these 3D shapes and then it is animated in a way that it ties into introducing the ‘main’ characters and sets the story. I love how she plays with time and space, and sometimes nothing is as what it seems. It is quite meditative and relaxing as well to watch, while the sounds and colors dance in front of you. You are following along with her into this journey of the known and unknown and it is tremendously hypnotizing.

There always seems to be an ocean of aspiration in the audience at the end, while everyone claps and stares at the big screen. These short films are a must-watch if you are at all interested in animation.

If you are unable to attend the whole weekend, the GLAS Animation Festival sells day passes and tickets for individual showings. This is my second time attending the festival and each one was such a treat. To get the full experience I suggest becoming a Pass-Holder because you get to attend some events that Non-Pass-Holder’s can’t, like the Opening Night Party and Nickelodeon’s Networking Mixer! To see what artists from around the globe have created, as well as networking with people in the industry should already be enough for you to attend every year.

February 22, 2019

Article by Talia Colarusso | Photos by Lydia Bell

From the moment you pull down 5th avenue in Wynwood on a not so chilly December night you are instantly transported into a living breathing art exhibition unlike any other. From the local artists scraping for some first time recognition on the corner to the coveted photographer with 700k instagram followers who has drawn an international audience taking up space in the chic warehouse across the street, Art Basel is not an event to miss out on.

Red Dot Miami took things up a level this year, hosted in the famed Maya Studio in the heart of Wynwood Red Dot featured over 75 galleries and 500 artists in the span of four nights. From the moment you enter the sprawling studio space the bump of some trendy New York DJ can be heard playing in the background. But before you even have the time to pull your phone out and Shazam the song you are whisked away by the sheer amount of eclectic works splayed out in front of you. As you breeze through gallery after gallery with a chilled lychee martini in hand it is hard not to get swept up in the whimsicalness of an art exhibition of such grandeur size. It was hard to remember that outside of these walls we were still in the middle of Wynwood and not at some underground art show hosted in Berlin. The sheer amount of international artists featured in this exhibition was enough to take one’s breath away. From the contemporary to classic, to down right extreme there was something for everyone’s taste at Red Dot Miami. As always Art Basel has managed to blow my mind even more than the year before. If you have yet to check out Art Basel for yourself, keep an eye out for the dates for 2019’s Art Basel to be posted.