Dooney'sWorld

Reflections on a painting

It has been a busy visit with step-daughter and grandson and I, grandma, have been too busy or scattered to write in any lengthy or coherent manner.

 

The original plan for today fell apart and instead we went to the Knoxville Museum of Art where we saw a fabulous retrospective of Josh Simpson Art  Glass and we also looked at a selection  of recent acquisitions by the museum.

 

The Knoxville art museum is a nice size with just enough to see without being overwhelmed.  At least it is just the right size that I am not overwhelmed.   I tend to be the kind of observer of art who can only absorb a small amount on any given day and am prone to sitting for long periods of time in front of a piece, letting it slowly sink into my consciousness.

 

I used to feel that museum trips were rather wasted on me because after a limited number of works I would grow restless and need a break, unable to absorb or look at more.  But I have grown to accept my slow looking even as a part of me admires the quick appraisal and stamina of someone like G who can take a quick look and decide, like, don’t like, and move on endlessly.

 

Today I got stuck in the first gallery looking at a painting by William Wiley called DOUBLE BASS FOR CB

 

I really don’t know anything about the artist, and don’t recall that I have seen another picture by him or at least not one that I committed to memory.  But this painting really struck my imagination.

 

In the painting, in the lower left corner there is a small portrait of a man playing a double bass; apparently a portrait of Brancusi.  Surrounding the bassist was a large whitish gray area where shapes and formulae and words were floating as if in a muddle of thoughts and inspirations. I don’t really know what the artist intended and I did not read the note until after I had looked at the painting for some time but it initially struck me that this was the space of the mind as opposed to the solitary musician and the solitude of the music and as opposed to the outside portion of the painting which was an over-lush view of the natural world in all its greenness and ruggedness.

 

My first impressions were that the white rectangle represented the kind of random connections the mind makes as it adjusts to the spell of music, or at least the kind of random thoughts that flit through my mind as I make the transition from the fragmentation and overstimulation of daily life and settle into the flow of the music. As I looked further at the square I saw the formulae and the random shapes, yes, some of which reflect Brancusi’s sculpture, and also the practical problems of life, of at least man-made life in a man made world.

 

Contrast this white space, this cloud of chaotic thought and inspiration and problems, with the other two extremes of life:  the other as represented by the world of nature, and the inner life as represented by the musician and the world of art. I saw it as quiet spirituality versus the violence of the wild, with the artificial construct of the man-made world in between in which we live on a daily basis.

 

The portrait of the bassist was so calm and composed, seemingly only a small part of the whole, and yet it is this small core which supports all the rest.  The natural scene was overwrought, reflecting more on that earlier view of nature as wild and uncontrolled and dangerous, reminiscent more of the medieval view of the wild as dark and dangerous than of the reflective embracing of nature that came out of the Romantic movement.  Yet nature is still uncontrolled.  And yet, in our own artificially constructed world we need to experience and be aware of both the need for art and occasionally the respect, love, and fear of nature.

 

It was really a most thought-provoking painting.  In my own greedy way, I feel I need to look at it more.  And yet those few minutes were enough

 

  

Day Trip

We drove up to Williamstown Massachusetts yesterday to see the Gerald and Sara Murphy exhibit at the Williams College Museum of Art.    All the pictures above are from the grounds of the Williams campus, courtesy of yours truly, except for the picture of the painting "Wasp and Pear" which is courtesy of MoMA.org, as I was naturally not allowed to photograph the artworks in the museum.

It was a lovely day for a drive and we had a great time. 

The exhibit was interesting.  I was admittedly mostly interested in the art even though Gerald Murphy only painted 14 known canvases and they have not all survived.  I thought the paintings were spectacular and I am amazed that he gave up painting after only 7 years because he felt he would never be more than "second rank".  Yes the pictures are somewhat autobiographical and they capture much of the spirit of cubism juxtaposed with an irrepressible American style and celebration of the good life.  But they are beautiful, sometimes stunningly so, and very powerful and evocative.  George and I were both taken by "cocktail":

Which is very modern, very American, very much a celebration of the glamorous life in the 20's. 

I was also very much taken with "Wasp and Pear" (in the collage above).  The color are different, softer, and yet at the same time more threatening.  The painting celebrates the innocence and sweetness of the pear, but also the sting of the hornet, how sweetness often hides the pain of destruction.  It is both lovely and harbors a dangerous edge. 

Oddly, although the exhibit was far from empty, very few of our fellow museum-goers were spending much time looking at the paintings.  George and I were the only ones there when we were at the part of the exhibit, which was good for us because we spent more time looking at the paintings than almost anything else. Although we often had to jostle our away around other visitors to look at photographs, journal entries, and various memorabilia, we had the paintings to ourselves.

The letters, photographs, sketches, and various remnants of the Murphy's lives did not interest us as much as the art.  I think this is probably what some would consider a character flaw of mine; I am not really interested in that kind of personal artifact.  There were fabulous and interesting sketches by Picasso and a nice group of cubist works, but it was Murphy's art that attracted us, and it seems to me that the paintings were the most interesting part of the exhibit, both for their quality, and probably for what they tell us about the sophisticated artist who painted them.  It is a shame he gave it up. But we are lucky they survived.

An essay on photographic intention

I read this fascinating essay  on Roger Fenton's photographs of the Valley of the Shadow of Death.  I've seen the one most published photograph but am not an expert on photography or Fenton.  Still the essay is quite interesting.  Although I do not, in principle, think that staging is a bad thing, I do not see the need to go back and try to determine what Fenton was thinking.  Can anyone know what someone else was thinking?  But I think there must be some human need to assign a purpose or a reason to the photographs, something to answer the "Why are there two" question. 

I have an opinion but I will wait to see what Morris learns as well.  My opinion is not learned and does not stem from any great knowledge or understanding of art or photography. 

I will tell you that it seems obvious to me that the lighting of the pictures is quite different, as one would  expect if Fenton took the pictures over a roughly 1 1/2 hour period in the late afternoon.  Depending on which way he is facing, I think the light can tell you a great deal, and there are obvious differences in light and shadow in these photographs as I see them posted on the web.  Of course I am not looking at the actual photographs, and I know nothing of the techniques and settings Fenton used.

Still, I will be intrigued to read the continuation.

Bryce Marden at MOMA

While I was in NYC on Tuesday I stopped in at MOMA to see the Bryce Marden exhibit.  It was a lucky coincidence, MOMA is usually closed on Tuesdays, except in the holiday season, and I had been unable to get into town to see the exhibit.

I'm so glad that I did, it is a spectacular exhibit where you really get a good sense of the Marden's progress from his early minimalist work through to the later works with their intense layering of technique and use of positive/negative space.  I was overwhelmed and really was not able to spend the time I wanted to just absorbing what I saw.  These are paintings that have a very palpable sense to them, painting that envelope you and draw you in, making you want to observe the details.

Unfortunately I had one to many glasses of champagne at lunch to apply that kind of scrutiny, and my brain was also befogged with thoughts of the few remaining Christmas errands I had to run before I caught a train back to the exurbs.

I really feel the need to go back and see everything again; this is common for me if I see something that really strikes me, as if I can't absorb it all in one go.  I always wished I had better concentrative ability.  Hopefully I can get back before it closes in mid January, it is well worth making the effort. 

Warmed by Music and Art at the beginning of winter

Wonderful holiday weekend so far, far from the crowded malls.  Friday night we had a Philharmonic concert and although we approached the day with some trepidations, fearing that the train station would be parked to the gills, we were pleasantly thrilled to find the parking lots far less than full and the trains not very crowded, despite the admonitions of the conductor of the “hundreds of passengers” still to board the train.  We miscalculated the train schedule, not thinking that Friday was a holiday, and had to take a later train than planned.  We still managed to get to Avery Fisher in time for a quick cup of coffee before the performance.

The first work, a contemporary piece by Colin Matthews, Berceuse for Dresden, was moderately interesting.  I thought I might like it if I heard it again.  George however was underwhelmed, as was most of the audience, judging by the applause.  After hearing the remainder of the concert, I am not sure if it stands a chance. 

The Schumann Cello concerto was lovely, as is all Schumann.  Although it was beautiful I was not moved.  But I suspect I rarely am by Schumann.  I think the music is beautiful but it does not seem to affect me in the same way as it does my beloved.  Well, I suppose we cannot agree on absolutely everything and a few differences certainly add interest and spark on occasion. 

The concert certainly built up from a slow start with the Matthews to a resounding finish with Dvorak’s 9th Symphony (New World) which was absolutely stunningly performed.  George’s initial response to the program had been that he could leave early, something of the “I’ve heard The New World Symphony so many times I could take or leave it” attitude.  I however make no bones about loving it.  I adore so many of the old warhorses and am not ashamed to admit it.  I was on the edge of my seat from the beginning.  And the performance was spectacular.  Powerful, moving, rousing, achingly beautiful in the slow parts.  A wonderful evening.   

Today we went back to Vassar to see the Danish Art exhibit that I had seen in October.  George had not seen it yet and I had no problem seeing it again.  I still feel it is lovely and peaceful.  Some of the paintings are just beautifully evocative, even when purely stylistically they are not completely effective, such as one harsh winter scene with the sharp lines, badly placed buildings but beautiful scenery and curving road that just draws you down it, deeper into the picture.  Perhaps it was just that it is winter here now and the light in that painting is so obviously the sharp cold icy light of late winter, when things are starting to get brighter but have not yet warmed. It has an interesting effect of being both distant and isolated yet also welcoming.  It has remained in our minds.  Neither one of us remembers the name of the painter.

There was no docent and no opportunity to purchase a catalog.  I will have to stop by during the week.

Seeking a Calm and Peaceful Place

It was one of those days where everyone seems to need somethings, far too many something, and one begins to wish for a hole to crawl into and hide.

I thought fondly back to the current exhibit at the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Gallery  at Vassar College, which I visited this past weekend while I was on campus.

I was completely unfamiliar with Danish art, and although I must presume that each country and culture has art, I had frankly never thought about Danish art.  It is however a fabulous exhibit and well worth even going out of one’s way to see.  There are no spectacularly great paintings.  I saw nothing of the same caliber as the great French and Dutch painters, and yet, the paintings are beautiful.  Many are neoclassical in style and definitely restrained, but still obviously influenced by trends in the art world, especially impressionism in some of the works. 

I found the entire exhibit to be calming and relaxing.  Although the paintings were mostly classical in style, they could be any time and any people.  They seemed to hint at complexity and sensuality but behind a reserved warmth.  They kind of reminded me of Brahms in some way.  I felt safe and comfortable looking at that picture, familiar and yet hinting at greater depth. 

I would have liked to go back today and been enveloped in that warmth, even if only for a few minutes.