Hi All-
I will be in Zionsville, Indiana for the summer, so I probably won't be able to do much posting. I'll do my best to keep updating over the next few weeks!
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Tuesday, 8 June 2010
"Marcel, Marcel, I Love You like Hell [and so does Andy Warhol]!
My studies of Marcel Duchamp have led me to a number of profound conclusions. However, to quote my current art history teacher, Sara Sturdevant, perhaps the most significant conclusion in my experience has been, “Marcel, Marcel, I love you like hell!” Apparently I am not the only one. The Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh currently has an exhibition on the relationship between the artworks of Duchamp and Warhol, entitled “A Twisted Pair.” Warhol took after Duchamp in many ways, aspiring, like the former, to challenge the viewer with optical illusions and controversial themes, including “sexuality…money, fame, and death” – a reflection on Pop Culture resulting from the counter-culture influence of Dada. While their first interactions were noted as early as 1962, many believe Warhol to have been acutely aware of Duchamp’s work far before then. Warhol was also a great collector of Duchamp’s work, owning over thirty pieces – an impressive collection considering Duchmap’s small output.
The curator of the exhibition, Matt Wrbican, draws a very literal comparison between the two artists over the course of the exhibition. He pairs each of their works, though somewhat simplistically, to convey the similar thematic and aesthetic trends that permeate the work of Duchamp and Warhol, as in the case of Duchamp’s “L.H.O.O.Q” and Warhol’s silkscreen images of the Mona Lisa. However, I very much appreciated the comparison between Duchamp’s “Coeur Volant” (Fluttering Heart), a silkscreen on paper work created between 1936 and 1961, and Warhol’s “Album of a Mat Queen,” a silkscreen ink and graphite work on linen, created in 1962. Within each piece, the artist delves into color study to create illusions of depth and movement. While the red within each piece recedes, and the blue pushes itself forward, their relationship allows for a sense of layered space that projects from the composition. At the same time, the varied amounts of each color in relation to one another result in a sense of vibration that encompasses each work, as though the artists have condensed the energy of opposing colors within similarly small frames. This dynamic force within Duchamp’s work explains its title, as the featured heart appears to “flutter” with the energy between the two opposing colors, red and blue, while he also applies the “colloquial French expression for the romantic emotion felt by lovers toward the object of their desire.” Warhol, in fact, owned a print of “Fluttering Heart,” (number 11/24 of the 1968 edition), and was likely very influenced by this color study in his own creation of “Album of a Mat Queen.” The comparisons that Wrbican draws between the two artists are very literal, as in the case of the similar colors and optical illusions between “Coeur Volant” and “Album of a Mat Queen.” However, they effectively reinforce the significance of each artist within the course of history, as he designates their position as reactions to what came before and predecessors to what comes next. A job well done.
Please note that all quotations are from narratives posted on the walls of the exhibition.
The curator of the exhibition, Matt Wrbican, draws a very literal comparison between the two artists over the course of the exhibition. He pairs each of their works, though somewhat simplistically, to convey the similar thematic and aesthetic trends that permeate the work of Duchamp and Warhol, as in the case of Duchamp’s “L.H.O.O.Q” and Warhol’s silkscreen images of the Mona Lisa. However, I very much appreciated the comparison between Duchamp’s “Coeur Volant” (Fluttering Heart), a silkscreen on paper work created between 1936 and 1961, and Warhol’s “Album of a Mat Queen,” a silkscreen ink and graphite work on linen, created in 1962. Within each piece, the artist delves into color study to create illusions of depth and movement. While the red within each piece recedes, and the blue pushes itself forward, their relationship allows for a sense of layered space that projects from the composition. At the same time, the varied amounts of each color in relation to one another result in a sense of vibration that encompasses each work, as though the artists have condensed the energy of opposing colors within similarly small frames. This dynamic force within Duchamp’s work explains its title, as the featured heart appears to “flutter” with the energy between the two opposing colors, red and blue, while he also applies the “colloquial French expression for the romantic emotion felt by lovers toward the object of their desire.” Warhol, in fact, owned a print of “Fluttering Heart,” (number 11/24 of the 1968 edition), and was likely very influenced by this color study in his own creation of “Album of a Mat Queen.” The comparisons that Wrbican draws between the two artists are very literal, as in the case of the similar colors and optical illusions between “Coeur Volant” and “Album of a Mat Queen.” However, they effectively reinforce the significance of each artist within the course of history, as he designates their position as reactions to what came before and predecessors to what comes next. A job well done.
Please note that all quotations are from narratives posted on the walls of the exhibition.
Saturday, 5 June 2010
Visual Overload
"Beyond Peaks Through Branches," 2010
Acrylic and reflective tape on wood panel.
As of two minutes ago, I was lying in bed, trying to sleep with very little success (it is currently 2:57 am). Visual Overload. Consider this my medical condition for the evening, one that has not only prevented me from falling asleep, but has been exacerbated by the artwork that I saw at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts earlier today (technically yesterday).
Elizabeth Mooney’s exhibition, “Shifting Panoramas,” is an attempt, in her words, “[to] present viewers with an abstracted vantage of place and space in an attempt to reconsider our ideas of beauty within the landscape. The intent with [her] work is to challenge the viewer to reconsider how they engage with nature and the accelerated pace at which the experience it.” To put it simply, her work falls short of this valiant purpose. Mooney’s mixed-media collages and paintings are a clichéd, unrealistic representation of human perception of nature, in which she portrays the environment as one of haphazard and chaotic forms, leaving little to the imagination. There is no ambiguity in her work, no granule of uncertainty to reflect upon, and this is where she loses grasp of her intention to challenge the viewer and of any credible representation of nature. In my experience, as I constantly perceive the world around me, I am often challenged to find scenes where lines are always deliberate and transitions always sudden; rather, I perceive a world of complexity, in which beginnings and ends – and the spaces between – are gradual and inseparable. Mooney creates a fictional canon of personal interactions with nature to which she suggests we must all subscribe.
To make matters worse, the images are crowded with an over-abundance of parts.– neon lines, undertones of wood, and sky-like backgrounds – each of which lack any relation to another. The result: An assembly of parts lacking a compositional whole. Her pieces additionally lack variation, quickly becoming hackneyed and trite. Within a matter of seconds, I wanted to turn around and leave. Once I had seen one, I had seen them all, and yet I still left feeling as though my senses were exhausted and overloaded....
Photo source: http://www.elizabethmooney.com/painting_B.html
Thursday, 3 June 2010
"Gods, Love, and War:" An Exhibition of Tapestries and Prints from The Carnegie Museum of Art Collection
Yesterday, I went to the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to wander through “Gods, Love, and War,” an exhibition of 16th and 17th Century Northern European tapestries and prints from the collection. The show is an astounding composition of thematically, symbolically, and technically aligned pieces, which despite their varying mediums and dramatic shifts in scale, wrap up perfectly like a little package. I want to buy the curator a drink....
The curatorial decisions that went into this exhibition were both thoughtful and thought-provoking, emphasizing the narrative and technical overlaps between the tapestries and prints, as well as the outstanding quality of the selected pieces. The assembled works formed an extensive reflection on the “artistic, social, and political values of the time.” However, it is the overlap that the curator draws between such different scales of art that conveys these meanings in thematic, symbolic, and technical terms.
Two of my favorite pieces from the exhibition were the “Winter” and “Autumn” tapestries from “The Seasons of Lucas” series from the late 17th Century. Produced by the Gobelins Manufactory in Paris, the wool pieces are so masterfully woven and dyed that each is truly breathtaking. I must admit that I have never had the opportunity to study tapestries in depth, but as I moved through the exhibit, I could not wait to study them in the future. However, from what I gather online, tapestries were some of the most valuable objects of the 16th and 17th Centuries. In addition to their compelling decorative purpose, they served as insulation for the cold, lofty castles of Northern European royalty.
Both “Winter” and “Autumn” depict peasants at “labor and leisure” and are laced with religious symbolism to carry out their moralizing purpose, which is characteristic of the Counter-Reformation. In ‘Winter,’ for instance, Boreas, a mythological figure representing the North Wind, blows the cold winter wind over the scene. “A fire rages in the distance, a visual tactic often used to depict the Last Judgment, the fire serves as a reminder of the consequences of [immorality].” Beyond its religious symbolism, the tapestry is noteworthy for the remarkable skill with which it is composed. The artist applies atmospheric perspective masterfully, creating a convincing transition from the foreground to the middleground, to the background that is fluid, compelling, and filled with beautiful pastel colors. The fluidity of color is so naturalistic and delicate, in fact, that the tapestry is reminiscent of a water color painting, particularly in the varying textures and colors that compose the ground. In my experience, the artist’s rendering of the scene was so compelling that it overshadowed the lack of a number of representational developments of the Renaissance, including linear perspective and naturalistic sense of scale.
The exhibition also includes a snappy little show of prints by the print-making masters of the Northern European Renaissance, including Albrecht Durer, Rembrandt, and Pieter Bruegel the Elder. During this period, prints flooded the art market due to development of the fine arts printing press in the mid-15th Century. These prints share many thematic and symbolic qualities with the tapestries of the period, including biblical scenes and scenes of common people laced with religious imagery. The integration of virtuosity in tapestries from the period is also integrated in the prints, but from what I can conclude from the exhibition, to a further extent. For instance, Albrecht Durer’s series on The Life of the Virgin, a series which he considered to be the masterpiece of his career, is a collection of sophisticated representations of the Madonna, which combine linear perspective, naturalistic treatment of landscape, and a skillful rendering of human interactions. “The Annunciation,” a print from his series on the Virgin, created between 1502 and 1504, exemplifies his application of these representational developments. Framed by a series of receding arches, he approaches the scene scientifically, treating space, light, and texture naturalistically and deliberately with fine hatching. He fills the scene with characteristic religious symbolism, including a vacant pot and open book – each a metaphor for the Virgin Mother – and a remarkably crafted dove atop Mary’s head. I am so pleased to have had the opportunity to view this series – a paramount achievement in Durer’s career – alongside some of the most remarkable tapestries of the period. The curatorial decision to organize an exhibition of tapestries and prints, each the end products of mechanical processes, results in a synergy of strengthened meaning through parallel themes, symbols, and virtuosity.
Please note that all quotations come from narratives posted on the walls of the exhibition.
The curatorial decisions that went into this exhibition were both thoughtful and thought-provoking, emphasizing the narrative and technical overlaps between the tapestries and prints, as well as the outstanding quality of the selected pieces. The assembled works formed an extensive reflection on the “artistic, social, and political values of the time.” However, it is the overlap that the curator draws between such different scales of art that conveys these meanings in thematic, symbolic, and technical terms.
Two of my favorite pieces from the exhibition were the “Winter” and “Autumn” tapestries from “The Seasons of Lucas” series from the late 17th Century. Produced by the Gobelins Manufactory in Paris, the wool pieces are so masterfully woven and dyed that each is truly breathtaking. I must admit that I have never had the opportunity to study tapestries in depth, but as I moved through the exhibit, I could not wait to study them in the future. However, from what I gather online, tapestries were some of the most valuable objects of the 16th and 17th Centuries. In addition to their compelling decorative purpose, they served as insulation for the cold, lofty castles of Northern European royalty.
Both “Winter” and “Autumn” depict peasants at “labor and leisure” and are laced with religious symbolism to carry out their moralizing purpose, which is characteristic of the Counter-Reformation. In ‘Winter,’ for instance, Boreas, a mythological figure representing the North Wind, blows the cold winter wind over the scene. “A fire rages in the distance, a visual tactic often used to depict the Last Judgment, the fire serves as a reminder of the consequences of [immorality].” Beyond its religious symbolism, the tapestry is noteworthy for the remarkable skill with which it is composed. The artist applies atmospheric perspective masterfully, creating a convincing transition from the foreground to the middleground, to the background that is fluid, compelling, and filled with beautiful pastel colors. The fluidity of color is so naturalistic and delicate, in fact, that the tapestry is reminiscent of a water color painting, particularly in the varying textures and colors that compose the ground. In my experience, the artist’s rendering of the scene was so compelling that it overshadowed the lack of a number of representational developments of the Renaissance, including linear perspective and naturalistic sense of scale.
The exhibition also includes a snappy little show of prints by the print-making masters of the Northern European Renaissance, including Albrecht Durer, Rembrandt, and Pieter Bruegel the Elder. During this period, prints flooded the art market due to development of the fine arts printing press in the mid-15th Century. These prints share many thematic and symbolic qualities with the tapestries of the period, including biblical scenes and scenes of common people laced with religious imagery. The integration of virtuosity in tapestries from the period is also integrated in the prints, but from what I can conclude from the exhibition, to a further extent. For instance, Albrecht Durer’s series on The Life of the Virgin, a series which he considered to be the masterpiece of his career, is a collection of sophisticated representations of the Madonna, which combine linear perspective, naturalistic treatment of landscape, and a skillful rendering of human interactions. “The Annunciation,” a print from his series on the Virgin, created between 1502 and 1504, exemplifies his application of these representational developments. Framed by a series of receding arches, he approaches the scene scientifically, treating space, light, and texture naturalistically and deliberately with fine hatching. He fills the scene with characteristic religious symbolism, including a vacant pot and open book – each a metaphor for the Virgin Mother – and a remarkably crafted dove atop Mary’s head. I am so pleased to have had the opportunity to view this series – a paramount achievement in Durer’s career – alongside some of the most remarkable tapestries of the period. The curatorial decision to organize an exhibition of tapestries and prints, each the end products of mechanical processes, results in a synergy of strengthened meaning through parallel themes, symbols, and virtuosity.
Please note that all quotations come from narratives posted on the walls of the exhibition.
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
The "Very Personal" Nature of Allen Ginsberg's Photography
Ginsberg's handwritten caption beneath the photograph states: "Kerouac wandering along East 7th street after visiting Burroughs at our pad, passing statue of Congressman Samuel "Sunset" Cot, "The Letter – Carrier's Friend" in Tompkins Square toward corner of Avenue A, Lower East Side; he's making a Dostoyevsky mad-face or Russian basso be-bop Om, first walking around the neighborhood, then involved with The Subterraneans, pencils & notebook in wool shirt-pockets, Fall 1953, Manhattan."
I once read a review of an artist, in which her work was characterized as being “very personal.”
My response: All art is personal.
Since I left Washington, I have continued to reflect on the Allen Ginsberg exhibition at The National Gallery and the “very personal” nature of his photographs. His photographs, along with his hand-written synopses included beneath each image on the wall, form keyholes through which visitors may peer into his experience among the Beat poets and “counterculture generation” from the 1950s to the 1990s. As an amateur photographer, Ginsberg combines a natural talent for photography with his critical observation of the world around him and his desire to capture and characterize it. This selective "moment in time" record of the changing post-war American culture exists as a series of insightful and witty photographs of his very noteworthy friends. These include William S. Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady, and Gregory Corso, writers and symbols of the disaffected society. The level of comfort between Ginsberg and his close friends allows for a candid sense of instantaneity that captures the personalities of the Beats and artists from this time. In this sense, the “very personal” nature of his photographs forms the theme of the exhibition as a visual documentation of the human experience in a society drifting between the wars before the “counterculture generation” took its own shape as an artistic force. While Ginsberg is an amateur, he approaches his photography with a refined intuition and a desire to capture the instantaneity of the world around him. His compelling appreciation for and application of these themes characterizes him as a great artist – both as a poet and as a photographer.
Photo source: http://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/2010/ginsberg/ginsbergfull.shtm
Sources Cited: "Beat Memories: The Photographs of Allen Ginsberg." National Gallery of Art. 2 May 2010. Web. 2 June 2010.
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Renoir as Cotton Candy: Plump and Sweet, but Not Much to Chew On
Soft edges, pastel colors, plump and comfortable figures, gestural painting, and an abundance of light – these are what come to mind when I think of Renoir. As I stood in front of one of his paintings, “Girl with a Hoop,” today in the National Gallery of Art, I nearly suffocated in the large crowd surrounding it. In a gallery filled with Manets, Gauguins, Redons, and Picassos (I must admit that I had urges to write Keatsian Odes to each throughout my time there), I am a bit puzzled as to why Renoir received so much attention. I find his work painfully sweet, and as the title suggests, like cotton candy. His portraits and café scenes lack narrative substance; the figures are plump and pink, and they live in a world of soft edges and comfort. There simply isn’t much to chew on. On the other hand, if you are hungry for something sweet, you will find Renoir to be a visual bonbon. Be warned, however, his work dissolves in your mouth all too quickly, leaving you hungry for something with a bit more substance. Nonetheless, he is a master of painting. His treatment of surfaces and the brushy quality of his painting, as seen in “Girl with a Hoop,” are testaments to his virtuosity in figural representation and composition. It is his skillful technique that saves the work from becoming tasteless.
In and of itself, beauty is a satisfying feast. However, I find it even more fulfilling when beautiful execution is used to enhance meaning. Hopefully next time the line to view the Renoir will not block the magnificent Manet painting right beside it….
Source for link: http://treebeard31.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/girl_with_a_hoop.jpg
A picture of "At the time being"
This is the best image I could find...
http://www.phillipscollection.org/images/content/exhibitions/intersections_LinnMeyers2.jpg
http://www.phillipscollection.org/images/content/exhibitions/intersections_LinnMeyers2.jpg
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
"At the time being"
“At the time being,” a temporary installation by Linn Meyers at the Phillips Collection in Washington D.C., is, as the artist describes it, “a record.” To put it simply, her work is a record of the systematic interactions between color and line that define its purpose as an exploration of form. Art in the absence of narrative is a visual experience, an exercise in form and principle, and “At the time being” is just this. Linn Meyers created this piece by painting the walls of the Goh Annex in the museum a deep blue and drawing upon this layer – directly on the wall – a multitude of swirling yellow lines. Her approach is intuitive and instantaneous, and thus a record of her experience “at the time being” of creating it; however, it also controlled in that her work remains bound to the systematic principles of cause and effect, or in this case, of optical illusion.
Meyers masterfully applies line and color to create a maximum effect. For instance, the twisting and exuberant composition of rippling lines is not solely the product of the lines themselves – their curves and transitions from thick to thin – but also of the ambiguity between the ends and beginnings of lines. Thus, the straight lines that intersect the swirling, circular forms are actually not lines at all; rather, they are the product of lines ending and beginning in a different direction. In the same vein, Meyers allows for an illusion of depth in the 2-dimensional piece through the interactions between yellow and blue. The work appears exceptionally vibrant from a distance, as the blue pushes the multitude of thin, yellow lines forward, creating an intriguing space of optical ambiguity. The blue thus acts as a negative space within the composition – one whose role is as equally important as the positive space, or the yellow. It is the interactions between these spaces, or the amount of space between each line, in addition to the relationship between the colors, that creates a synergy of optical and psychological exuberance, which characterize this work as a one of achievement.
On a final note, I should also mention that the piece was created in response to Vincent van Gogh’s painting, “Road Menders” (1889), another piece in the collection with many compositional similarities, including color scheme, line, an illusion of depth, and psychological vibrancy.
Meyers masterfully applies line and color to create a maximum effect. For instance, the twisting and exuberant composition of rippling lines is not solely the product of the lines themselves – their curves and transitions from thick to thin – but also of the ambiguity between the ends and beginnings of lines. Thus, the straight lines that intersect the swirling, circular forms are actually not lines at all; rather, they are the product of lines ending and beginning in a different direction. In the same vein, Meyers allows for an illusion of depth in the 2-dimensional piece through the interactions between yellow and blue. The work appears exceptionally vibrant from a distance, as the blue pushes the multitude of thin, yellow lines forward, creating an intriguing space of optical ambiguity. The blue thus acts as a negative space within the composition – one whose role is as equally important as the positive space, or the yellow. It is the interactions between these spaces, or the amount of space between each line, in addition to the relationship between the colors, that creates a synergy of optical and psychological exuberance, which characterize this work as a one of achievement.
On a final note, I should also mention that the piece was created in response to Vincent van Gogh’s painting, “Road Menders” (1889), another piece in the collection with many compositional similarities, including color scheme, line, an illusion of depth, and psychological vibrancy.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
L'Ecriture Automatique
"Beauty will be convulsive or will not be at all."
-Andre Breton
While wandering through La Place du Pantheon during a recent vacation in Paris, I encountered a plaque outside L'Hotel de Grands Hommes, which stated that the hotel was "the true birthplace of Surrealism." The plaque suggested that "it was here, in the course of the spring of 1919" (Bayley), that Andre Breton and Philippe Soupault developed "l'ecriture automatique," or automatic writing, as a a means of delving into the subconscious, or as Walter Jackson Bate - perhaps my favorite literary critic - may have suggested, allowing "the mind to act as a thoroughfare for all thoughts" (Bate, 18). It is with this mentality that I have created this blog - in an attempt to develop my "critical eye" as I perceive and react to the visual world.
-Andre Breton
While wandering through La Place du Pantheon during a recent vacation in Paris, I encountered a plaque outside L'Hotel de Grands Hommes, which stated that the hotel was "the true birthplace of Surrealism." The plaque suggested that "it was here, in the course of the spring of 1919" (Bayley), that Andre Breton and Philippe Soupault developed "l'ecriture automatique," or automatic writing, as a a means of delving into the subconscious, or as Walter Jackson Bate - perhaps my favorite literary critic - may have suggested, allowing "the mind to act as a thoroughfare for all thoughts" (Bate, 18). It is with this mentality that I have created this blog - in an attempt to develop my "critical eye" as I perceive and react to the visual world.
I seek truth in the satisfaction of the eye's appetite. In the course of this insatiable pursuit, I will turn to this blog with critical reviews of the artists and exhibitions that I encounter. I hope to address truth in its cultural and aesthetic context, proving that the source of truth in art is principle and examining its effect on how we perceive and react to beauty.
Sources Cited
1. Bate, Walter Jackson. "Negative Capability." Modern Critical Views: John Keats. Ed. Harold Bloom. New York: Chelsea, 1985. 13-28. Print.
2. Bayley, Stephen. "Surreal Things: Surrealism and Design." The Observer. 25 Mar. 2007. Web. 19 May 2010.
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