April 30, 2004
It's been a crazy week, full of work, family, and weird weather. Postcards for my upcoming show are at the printers, and will be mailed out in a couple of weeks. The critical paintings are finished, and if I can get a few more done between now and the end of May, it will round out the show nicely. |
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| Detail of mural by James Leon (©1952) at the Chinese Historical Society of America |
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| I took my niece, Joanelle Lusk, to the Chinese Historical Society of America show (scroll down to the April 22nd post) of work by Gary Woo and Martin Wong. As a writer and spoken word poet, Joanelle was particularly intrigued with Martin Wong's use of words in his visual art. He presented his poetry brushed in ink on paper, painted on scrolls, pressed into in clay, inscribed on dog tags, and worked into the imagery of his cityscapes. |
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Last night I went to see "Pearl Anniversary: Celebrating 30 years of Asian American Dance" at the SomArts Cultural Center. The lobby/reception area was hung with the "Re-Mix 2004" show (an exhibition on humor and social commentary, featuring work by Chicano/Latino and Asian American Artists.) None of the work had identifying labels, but I recognized some of the artists. If anyone can identify the others, email me and I'll add the info here. Several pieces dealt with the issue of language and (mis)communication. The Catholic church, US imperialism, and racism were also covered. The work was good quality, but it wasn't presented very well. Lighting was poor, there were no wall tags, and many paintings were stacked on the floor, leaning against the walls - this in a room full of people drinking wine and eating sushi!
I was particularly impressed with the painting by E. Diaz (see below) of a seated man, wearing a serape of the American flag, a pile of rubbish at his feet. The stars were falling off the flag and dancing around the rubbish, which consisted of Coke cans, Marlboro packs, a Mickey mouse toy, and a button with the letters "PAN". The face of the sitter is beautifully rendered with simple brushstrokes. The animated stars are sketched in loosely, as a counterpoint to the dark, brooding face in the background. |
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| Very large drawing by unidentified artist at SomArts performance space lobby. |
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| 3-D installation by unidentified artist at SomArts performance space lobby. Tortillas, printed with the words, "I, Try, Lingual," are mounted on wooden presses, with glass tongues. |
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Drawings of faces (of Homeland Security?) by Richard Fong at SomArts performance space lobby. |
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| Paintings by Sylvia Sauala (left) and John Yoyogi Fortes (right) at SomArts performance space lobby. |
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| Photographer David W. Sumner and painter E. Dale Erickson at SomArts performance space lobby for the Asian American Dance Performances reception. |
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| Painting by E. Diaz at SomArts performance space lobby. |
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| The dance performance opened with a short introduction from choreographer and Artistc Director Claudine Naganumna, who thanked Sachiko Nakamura and Judith Kajiwara as co-founders of Asian American Dance Performances. In the early 70's Sachiko and Judith provided free dance classes to hundreds in both Chinatown and Japantown, while struggling with the question, "What is Asian American dance?" The dance collective performed in local venues and toured the country. Judith went on to butoh and Sachiko turned to theater a way to express their experiences as Asian American women. |
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Barangay Dance Company (left) began the performances with a Tausug dance: three women in purple silk costumes, imitating the movements of the sea gull. They were followed by four men portraying a boat full of fishermen rowing over waves, swimming underwater, and spearing fish. They were accompanied by five musicians playing a sparkly, percussive score.
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| Dance Naganuma (above, right) performed "Forest House", a rousing fairy tale to the music of Bjork. The dancers carried sticks and energetically wove in and out of bright, projected leaf patterns. Two of the performers were children, and the smallest one (grade school age) was a terrific dancer, holding her own as the focus while the others danced around her. |
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Sachiko Nakamura's "The Red Line the Green Line, and the Yellow Line" was a solo performance piece about (California-born) Sachiko's trip to Tokyo (including childhood memories of traffic lights, and a near-death experience.) The stage props (including three rolls of her signature bubble-wrap) and the sound effects (subway trains, pop tunes) were simple . The audience started giggling during the introductory voice-over, even before they saw her costume, which reminded me of a demented Statue of Liberty. At one point, when she was beating the bubble wrap with her torch/mop, to create the sound of firecrackers, I heard a woman behind me say, "Work it, girl!" She definitely gets more milage out of bubble wrap than I ever imagined possible. Her vignettes are loosely connected but flow easily as she seems to free-associate on cross cultural themes. |
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About Sachiko
(from the program):
Sachiko Nakamura has performed extensively in the San Francisco Bay Area incorporating dance, text, and sculptural elements into her work. Her work is often tinged with satire and humor. In the 1970's she began her career as the first Artistic Director of Asian American Dance Collective (now Asian American Dance Performances). In the 1980's as a member of SoundSeen, a Zen Cabaret, she worked in collaboration with Brenda Wong Aoki, Mark Izu, Lewis Jordan, and Jael Weisman to create "Type-O" and "Seven Steps to Go." Sachiko began her solo career in 1990 with her piece "Layers". She continues to tour nationally and internationally performing her one-woman shows. |
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• • •
As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I'm working on a comprehensive survey of places to find art books in San Francisco. I visited Field's Metaphysical Books on Polk Street this week and asked them if they could show me where the art section was. The reply : "No, this is a metaphysical bookstore." I was pretty much speechless... metaphysical means no art? What about all the books on Tibetan Tantra paintings, Goddess art, Sacred Symbols, Mandalas and Yantras, Rudolf Steiner's aesthetic theories, visionary artists, the symbolists, alchemy, etc? Not mention monographs by artists like Alex Grey, Andy Weber, Monica Sjoo, Mayumi Oda, Judith Cornell, Betty La duke, Robyn Kahukiwa, and Herb Kawainui Kane .... and that's what came to mind without even trying, so there has to be a lot more of it out there. I also stopped by Book Passage, the tiny book store in the Ferry Building. They don't have an art section either. But I can almost understand their decision (not that I agree with it) to focus on fiction, travel guides, cook books and kids books. But how about travel art? I've seen a few travel books by artists and how-to books that pertain to making art on a trip; plus there are travel guides to art sites...
• • •
I'm exhausted just thinking about it - how does Alan Bamberger (also Roberta Fallon and Libby Rosof) ) manage to see so many shows?
Thanks to daily readings of Roberta and Libby's excellent art blog from Philly, I finally got up the nerve to start asking for permission to take photos of the shows I'm writing about, so you'll be seeing more images from now on.
• • •
New art blogs that I've added to my list:
Rodcorp - a London based, process-oriented artist who culls the 'net for art related items and sometimes shows his own stuff.
Erik's Rants and Recipes- SF Bay area reports on food, art, and more.
Stretcher - Click on the West Coast column (a pop up window) for short news items from the art community out here.
• • •
April 22, 2004
"Martin Wong's Utopia" at the Chinese Historical Society of America. This beautiful little building in San Francisco's Chinatown used to be the YMCA, but I'll bet you've never seen a YMCA like this one. Julia Morgan designed it and the moment I entered the lobby I felt a sense of sanctuary. As I approached the front desk to talk to the very helpful and personable receptionist, I noticed a glass wall behind him, that looked out to a small, tidy garden. Light from the garden floods the main hall, which has a dragon painted on the floor. Every detail in this museum, including the building itself, has received loving attention. The old gymnasium is the largest gallery and it houses the historical collection. Three smaller galleries, plus the downstairs library, hold small art exhibits. I went there to see Martin Wong's work, but I ended up staying much longer, to see the rest of the exhibits. I highly recommend a visit to this museum, especially if you can get there in the next month (Martin Wong's work is there until June 27th; Gary Woo's work is up until May 30th.)
Martin Wong (1946 - 1999) was born in Seattle, grew up in San Francisco, and moved to New York in 1978. He's mostly known for his urban scenes,
but he was also a talented calligrapher, sculptor, and symbolist. Bricks, star maps, and words-as-symbols are the repeating themes in his work. Both his early work and his later work is approachable, infused with warmth, emotion, intimacy and hope. This is an early self portrait, in oil (1975):
The largest painting, "Polaris" (acrylic on canvas, 50" x 60", 1988) shows a group of children sitting in a casual circle around the North Star.
The "Chinese Altar Screen" (1989) is an acrylic painting of a brick wall, replacing the traditional jade screen. The jade is represented by its absence - a circular opening in the wall looks out to a dark sky of navigational constellations.
"Our Lady of the Lower East Side" (shown here in detail) another large acrylic (48" x 60", 1990), repeats the brick and star motif.
Wong used his original poem, "Cassiopia" over and over in calligraphic text. There are examples here of the poem as ink on paper, and as a kind of modern cuneiform clay tablet. One of the clay pieces takes a figurative form:
Wong also wrote poetry in American Sign Language, and a long vertical scroll called "Blue Voice", painted in blue and silver, is stylized to the point that it resembles Mayan glyphs.
The Chinese Historical Society of America has published a nice little (20 page) exhibition catalog with color reproductions of the work, and an essay by Mark Dean Johnson of SFSU. ("Martin Wong's Utopia - A Peaceful and Heavenly Place", ISBN 1-885864-20-5)
Gary Woo: Looking Back 50 Years - Gary Woo was considered an Abstract Expressionist, of the SF Bay Area school. I was not familiar with his work, prior to this show, and I'm not sure how well this tiny show represents his work. But there are some beautiful pieces here. Most of the work is very small, delicate, ink or watercolor on paper. One of the larger paintings , "Moss Garden" (60" x 24", oil) is an exquisite abstract, painted in overlapping multicolored layers with scratched lines in the upper layers:
A few of his sketchbook journals are on display, and this image was my favorite ("Ascending Genesis of a New Constellation", 11" x 8.5", ©2000):
The work of these two artists seems to look in the same direction for answers to the questions, "Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going?" I liked this show so much, I'm planning on going back again before it closes.
More about Martin Wong:
Some of his work at an Illinois State exhibit
Some of his work at Humbolt State
An article about Martin Wong from Art In America
About some of his work, in the Bronx, with American Sign Language
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April 16, 2004
About slides and mailings - the business part of being an artist. I noticed a few posts today on this topic:
Carolyn Zick (at Studio Notebook) wrote as an artist, wondering why anyone still uses slides:
"I am kind of amazed that 35mm slides are still the running standard as an acceptable representation of your work to others. ... 35 mm slides seem cumbersome to deal with for everyone and they are expensive to produce for the artist; not to mention bulky to mail in contrast to a CD or on of those little mini drives. I've had places hold on to a set of slides for over two years, to only show up in my mailbox with the short rejection notice."
Caryn Coleman (at the Artweblog) wrote as a gallerist, encouraging artists to send out CDs:
"I am encouraging artists to send out CDs of their work to interested galleries. That way the artist isn’t putting any unwanted pressure on the gallery. CDs cost around 70 cents so the artist isn’t out much and galleries will eventually be more willing to look at new artists if the whole sending-back-the-packet/rejection-letter process was avoided."
In my experience as an artist, there's no question that we have to do both. Plenty of galleries and most juried competitions still demand slides. There's even one gallery here in San Francisco that insists on 4x5 transparencies! (And you thought slides were expensive.) But I have encountered more and more art dealers who look at a web site first, then ask for slides. My big fear with the CD-only approach is that looking at the CD requires more intention and attention than a quick glance at the slide sheet, so a look at the CD might not happen at all. I hedge my bets and send both: slides and a CD. But I only send to places that are open to looking at new work, and interested in work like mine (realism.)
Elise Tomlinson (at Artist Blog) is getting ready for a show and asked for info on mailing lists:
"Does anyone have suggestions on how I can get a list of addresses of people from my area who like to attend art openings? Do you think it would be appropriate to ask one of the other galleries in town if I could use theirs? Or is that taboo? other ideas?"
I'm getting ready for a (group) show too and just purchased (as the Publicity chair for the group) a commercial mailing list from USAData. It was only $200 for 2000 names/addresses and we were able to specify zip codes, income level, homeowners, and "interest in attending cultural art events." This purchased list will supplement the group's old mailing list. I also plan to send out my own cards to my own list which I've been maintaining in a database for years. It's going to the printer next week. And I still have all those paintings to finish...
April 15, 2004
Drawing (and by "drawing", I mean the whole process of seeing, drawing and painting) is a means of possession, and a way of dropping out of time. When I see something that attracts me, my first reaction is to take a deep breath and examine the scent. Then my mouth waters. Then my hands twitch - I want to draw. Drawing from life is the best, most sublime way of knowing and taking in. I discovered this the first time an instructor made us draw contours without looking at the paper. After I got past my initial resistance, I discovered that the act of drawing is its own reward and is unrelated to the production of a "work of art." To draw something or someone is to look at the subject for so long and so deeply that the artist seems to merge with the subject and time fades away. This way of seeing seems archaic in our hurry-up, flash, click-through times, but I've found it to be very satisfying. I can lose track of time by examining the shadow of a tree as it falls across a sidewalk, over a dog tied to a parking meter, and out into the street. Years of drawing have taught me how to drop into that state with ease. Once I watched the sharp-edged shadow of a building until I was convinced that I could see it move with the rotation of the earth. No pencil necessary.
Ephemera:
"If only there were some way to combine the speed and democracy of the Web with the more meditative character of traditional criticism. Oh wait, there already is: blogging."
from a Washington Post column by James Marcus about blogging vs professional critics.
"I'm not good company, talking is not my idea of anything at all."
from The Captain Is Out To Lunch and The Sailors Have Taken Over The Ship (page 23, fifth sentence), by Charles Bukowski:
see Terry Teachout, April 13, 2004 (scroll way down)
About the alarming affects of using too much Photoshop....
from Elise Tomlinson, April 12, 2004
April 11, 2004
Construction of the new de Young Museum - I was walking past the museum early this (foggy) morning and noted some major changes. The entire music concourse, between the Academy of Sciences and the de Young has been closed, with tall chain-link fences, hard hat signs, and pacing guards. The 10th Avenue park entrance is also blocked off and they're digging up the road, to make a tunnel under JFK Drive, for the new underground parking garage. Construction workers cut down several old cherry trees last week (in the concourse) and set off another typical San Francisco brouhaha. The old science museum has not been torn down yet, but the new art museum is starting to look spectacular. From certain views, it looks like an aircraft carrier. From any view it's huge. The copper skin on the north side (facing JFK) has a couple of irregularly shaped areas of perforations (dark patches on the orange wall in photo below.) I'm guessing these are for the light wells that are going to be throughout the new building. In a few years (2008) when all this work is done, we are going to have a fabulous new cultural complex here.
April 10, 2004
My next show is eight weeks away and the pre-show nail-biting has begun. I have paintings to finish, press releases to mail, postcards to design, print & mail, paintings to finish, business cards to print, paintings to finish, phone calls to make, paintings to finish, and paintings to finish. Lots of late nights coming up... So for the next few weeks, I'm going back to plan "A", which was to post here about once a week. I'm working on a review of "Places to Buy Art Books", which should be ready in a couple of weeks. For next week, it'll be either "Questions I Get Asked (over and over)" or "How to Make a Living as an Artist." Any blurbs on those topics will be gratefully accepted, used, and credited.
Speaking of art and books, Terry Teachout mentioned a cool site with a collection of paintings of women reading - it's really very nice. If you need a lift, I recommend taking a look here. (I checked three bookstores today, looking for "A Terry Teachout Reader", but no luck yet.)
I wish I could be in Los Angeles for the blogging drink & meet, with Tyler Green, Caryn Coleman, et al. I'd also like to see the Koplin del Rio and Circle Elephant galleries. But I don't travel well anymore (more on that topic another day.) So I hope we hear all about it.... oh, I see there are some links at art.blogging.la... gotta go check 'em out.
I should have mentioned Marja - Leena Rathje's blog a long time ago, because I've been enjoying it for some time now. I first came across it when I was looking up neolithic images (collecting info on prehistoric symbols is a hobby of mine.) Her work combines images of ancient stone art, with printmaking. Her work grants due respect to the original artists and makes connections to us.
Which reminds me... I was taped for a segment on the radio program, "Philosophy Talk", which will air this coming Tuesday, April 13, 2004 (noon to 1pm in San Francisco - download here) I presented a conundrum about the ethical use of appropriated images, but I have a feeling we didn't shed much light on the subject. Maybe listeners will add to the dialog on their web forum.
More of my favorite recent blogs: Elise Tomlinson on "How to Ruin a Painting in 5 Minutes or Less" (April 4, 2004) and Rachael's warning to everyone that we (artists) are watching you! (April 7, 2004).
Seen on a wall at the Noriega Child Development Center playground:
April 7, 2004
Recent readings have made me think again about a question I've chewed on for years, "Why make art? What is it good for?" I don't think we'll ever know. The compulsion to make pictures, sculptures, stories, or music has been part of being human since prehistoric times. What changes are the explanations we come up with to explain or justify our behavior. We have to come up with an explanation that will convince people to leave us alone so that we can keep making art. Or better yet, an explanation that will convince people to support us in making art. But if you dig deep enough, the truth that comes out of almost every artist is, "I have to - I can't help it." Maybe it's some kind of soul virus.
Still, the way we explain it to ourselves influences the way we practice art. I've heard hundreds of justifications for making art (tried a few myself) and they seem to fall into three main categories:
1. Inner-directed, process oriented
2. Outer-directed, communication oriented
3. Commodity or goal oriented
Artists can shift between these categories, and hold more than one of these views at the same time (it's the nature of the creative mind.) But I think the reasons for choosing and defending a particular view of art have more to do with the personality of the artist than the essential nature of Art.
My favorite examples of inner-directed, process oriented artists are Agnes Pelton and Chuck Close. Edward Hopper and Charles Burchfield are less obvious examples of artists who pursue personal visions with little or no concern over "interpretations" by the viewer.
Alice Neel was just as driven and committed to her vision, but she had something to say and she wanted to make sure you understood it. Other examples of outer directed, communication oriented artists are Chester Arnold, Ben Shahn, and Judy Chicago .
Andy Warhol is the obvious first nomination for commodity or goal-oriented (fame!) artist. Others are Salvador Dali, Leroy Neiman, Damien Hirst, and Jeff Koons.
As for myself, I spend most of my time in the first category, with frequent sorties into the second and occasional forced marches into the third. How about you?
Here are a few of my favorite explanations of art-making:
"You ask why I paint? Why do I breathe?"
Joyce Treiman
"Life is difficult, as perhaps everyone knows by now. It is to escape from these difficulties that I practice the pleasant profession of a painter."
Max Beckman
"I got into this because it was something I had to do. Poetry is a way to drive a wedge between myself and things I find unbearable. To me, success is nailing down some kind of question. Some poets find success in publications, getting reviews, etc. But for me that's not the purpose. I write poetry in order to live."
Carl Phillps, interviewed by David Bonetti
"Annihilation is an existential fear; the common fear that some part of you dies when you stop making art. And it's true. Non-artists may not understand that but artists understand it all too well. The depth of your need to make things establishes the level of risk in making them."
David Bayles
"I believe that the great masters, with their intellect as master, have attempted to force this unwilling medium of paint and canvas into a record of their emotions. I find any digression from this aim leads me to boredom."
Edward Hopper
"Whenever I am asked questions concerning my artistic aims I hardly know what to say. When actually painting, the heat of creation may be so intense that the artist's execution becomes completely subconscious... my chief aim in painting is in the expression of a completely personal mood."
Charles Burchfield
"A lot of people are funny: they think there’s more money in science than in art, and they are right. It’s absolutely true. The catch is that what drives us is not our rational brain but our whole human arsenal of emotions and thought. And our only way of understanding that is through the arts."
Margaret Atwood
"It is the function of the artist to evoke the experience of surprised recognition: to show the viewer what he knows but does not know that he knows. Helnwein is a master of surprised recognition."
William S. Burroughs, about Helnwein
"Although art is fundamentally everywhere and always the same, nevertheless two main human inclinations, diametrically opposed to each other, appear in its many and varied expressions. The first aims at representing reality objectively and the second subjectively."
Piet Mondrian
"One of the primary motives of my work was to reveal the inequalities and pressures of modern life in the psychology of the people I painted."
Alice Neel
"The artists role is to create, among people, and to be a bridge or instigator for developing a sense of reverence and beauty. Art is a way of replenishing the soul."
Satish Kumar
"I believe that people have a great need to understand their world, and that art clarifies reality for them. Artists have two responsibilities. The first is to express themselves and the second is to communicate. If artists don't communicate, they have either been unsuccessful in thier attempt or they are being self-indulgent by not trying."
Audrey Flack
"One of the purposes of art is to show the transformative nature of reality. It can empower a person's capacity to change."
Alex Grey
"My goal is to tell the truth in such a way that other people might see it and be transformed by it."
Judy Chicago
"Almost any human activity can be a work of art, provided it's done in a ritualistic way, with some kind of forethought and some kind of afterthought."
Ellen Dissanayake
"The fact that artists are workers - a real part of the working class - is much too embarrassing for most of us to acknowledge."
and
"My responsibility as an artist is to work, to sing for my supper, to make art, beautiful and powerful, that adds and reveals; to beautify the mess of a messy world, to heal the sick and feed the helpless; to shout bravely from the roof-tops and storm barricaded doors and voice the specificity of our historical moment."
Carrie Mae Weems
"Great artists need great clients"
I. M. Pei
"As ugly as the work is, no work is so ugly that it can't be assimilated."
Leon Golub
"Part of the impulse of modernity is the demand for change. It's like you're not a real artist unless you're attempting to make a radical new statement. It's part of the whole Zeitgeist of always seeking innovations instead of using older forms that still have good use value; and it's certainly in the spirit of a capitalist economy, which depends for its survival on constant innovation."
Richard Shusterman
"The main thing is Americans don't like art, they won't pay for art, they don't deserve art. That's just a fact. This is a Puritan republic in which nobody gives a shit about art. When I came to the art world, there were maybe 2000 seriously committed people who would do it whether they got payed or not. Today there are about 2000 seriously committed people who would do it whether they get paid or not."
Dave Hickey, from Zing Magazine
April 2, 2004
Yesterday was jammed full of art, starting with my 8am wake up soy chai at the Corner Cup cafe, where Amanda rearranged the art again, just to make sure we all keep looking at it.
Then it was onward, to SFMOMA, where I hoped to get an early start and avoid the crowds that prevented me from seeing much last time I was there. I went straight up to the video installation by Swiss artist, Pipilotti Rist. Just outside the entrance to the darkened galleries, is "Hello, Good Day" - a mirror, the size, type and height you would see in the bathroom of a cramped city apartment. In the center of the mirror is a little video screen with an image of lips repeatedly coming forward to kiss the viewer (or other side of the glass.) The jolt of pseudo intimacy was the perfect preparation for the main event - "Stir Heart, Rinse Heart". The first room is hung with clear plastic objects from every day life. A video collage is projected from the floor of one wall diagonally across room, through the hanging plastics, to opposite corner walls, floor, and ceiling. The hanging plastics cast shifting, semi-translucent shadows into the video images. The viewers also become part of the show because you have to walk through the projector's beam to get to the next room. One little girl kneeled in the center of the beam, playing with her plastic horse and cast a crisp image on the wall. Adolescent boys kept sticking their hands in front of the projector, throwing giant fuzzy hand shapes into the mix. With all the shadow play, it was hard to tell what the video images were, but I thought I caught a glimpse of a cervix at one point. In the next room (big space, with seating) a cinema-sized wall screen showed two side-by-side but slightly overlapping movies. On the left was a psychedelic view of landscapes, both terrestrial and human. Rivers and mountains seen from a plane would become an endoscopic view of someone's intestines. Red blood cells flowed through interior spaces and flew through the sky like birds. On the right, a woman sat a table and ate an orange. The setting reminded me of the "heaven" scene in "2001, Space Odyssey." But this was much more carnal. Later the woman is striding down a city street when men see her, and her blood spot, and they fall to their knees to receive her blessing. The films are full of saturated color, primarily red, pink, orange, & yellow and they shift from scene to scene with fluid, lyrical motions. I stayed for two loops - I found it beautiful, sexy and funny. But the graphic orange-eating scene drove a lot of people out of the room. On my way out, I stopped to see that little flickering spot on the floor of the vestibule, that always had a bunch of people in a circle on their hands and knees. I soon joined them. It was "Selfless in the Bath of Lava"- a tiny ragged hole in the floor, which looks into a cavern of hell, with a nude woman looking up and crankily yelling at us about things she would have done differently if only she'd known. I'm now a fan of Pipilotti Rist. I'd put her right up there with Bill Viola.
Next, I went over to take another look at "The Art of Romare Bearden". I'd seen it awhile ago, and enjoyed it for all the analytical, symbolic elements that always attract me. But this time, coming from the Pipilotti Rist show, I saw Bearden's work with new eyes. I'm tempted to gush about the warmth and humanity in his work, but after reading Chicha's complaint (Be careful what you wish for) along those lines, I'll just say that he is very engaged in life. This is a huge show, with room after room of his work. He experimented with many mediums, but mostly worked on paper. The earliest paintings were watercolor and gouache on large sheets of brown paper. They're very dark, and I wonder if the paper was lighter when he made them, but darkened over time? He tried many mediums over the years, using collage, printmaking, mixed media, and abrasion of the surface to get interesting mottled effects. My favorite piece is "Departure From Planet Earth."
It's one of the collage, abrasion, ink-wash pieces. It's a moon-lit city scene of people engaged in sex, drugs, and other forms of escape. The clear, calm sky contrasts with chaos below. The colors are primal. I left there to cross the street, sit in the sunshine on the lawn at Yerba Buena, and watch the pigeons and seagulls try to snatch lunch scraps.
Re: Tyler Greens's April 1st thoughts on reinstalling permanent collections - SFMOMA is changing out the permanent collection, "From Mattisse to .." It was all blocked off yesterday, but I peeked thru the plywood barricades and it looked like a major rearrangment, with some stuff coming out of storage.
The Varnish gallery is only a couple of blocks from SFMOMA, so I stopped in to see the "Skin Deep" show. I hadn't been here before - this is a great looking gallery, with a full bar. The show was OK. The best work was four acrylic paintings by Annette Hassell. They're lushly painted still life images using animated toys. Great photos of the opening at Art Business .
Next show was a few more blocks east, to the Contemporary Jewish Museum to see "100 Artists See God". This traveling show was put together by Independent Curators International. I didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. The work was by 105 different artists, and it was mostly photography, video and installations, with a few drawings and paintings. And the paintings were things like a Gerhard Richter canvas that was solid grey. A nicely done drawing on paper, called "My Homunculus" came with an interesting accompanying statement. It was an invitational show, and much of the work was made specifically for this show. What I found depressing wasn't so much the lack of painting (I'm getting used to that), it's that when 105 artists were asked how they see god, they mostly came up with trite, sarcastic, sophomoric responses.
Believe it or not, when I left the Jewish Museum, I wasn't done with this day, but the sun was getting alarmingly low in the sky. Mosaics were next on the agenda. I was heading over to the Museo Italo Americano at Ft. Mason, for the "Opus Veritas: Fragments of Truth" show. Since the Ferry Building was on the way, it seemed appropriate to stop by and take another look at the historic mosaics which have recently been restored. I heard that it took five workers a year to repair and replace thousands of square feet of tiles. The rehabilitation also included a polishing technique that uses ground walnut shells on the tiles in order to restore them to their original sheen. I can't believe I didn't take any pictures there... must be because I was getting weak from hunger and walking past all those stalls with organic olives and chocolate monkeys was making me dizzy. (I'll be heading over there again on April 12th to hear Marty Eggers , Jim Cullum and friends play at Pier 23 (5-7pm), so I'll snap some photos then.)
After walking over the hill from Fisherman's Wharf to Ft. Mason, I managed to make it to the Italian Museum just before they closed (got in for free.) Terrific show, and a great way to end the day! It's an international show of mosaics and they have a mixture of older work (by Bennie Bufano) and contemporary pieces. One of the most exciting works was a screen made from corrugated cardboard!
Different shades of brown and widths of corrugation defined the pieces that were precisely cut and pasted on bigger sheets of cardboard. My first reaction was, "this is a thing of beauty" and it was a second later that I noticed it was cardboard. It reminds me of hobo and prisoner art. I'd love to see more by this artist, Luci Lytle
Then there was the "Inspiration House", by Laurel True , a mirror-lined booth, enclosing a velvet cushioned chair, covered with wild mosaic designs.
Best in show was "Identity" by Jennifer Tipton. A background of flat black slate-like ceramic, as a field for a brilliant purple-green fingerprint design done in dichroic glass. Interview with her here.
There were many, many more impressive pieces in this show... but the staff were rattling the doors. I managed to catch the 5pm bus back to the Sunset district, then ordered a pizza, opened a beer and watched the sky change colors.
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