The Civil War & American Art (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)
And The War Came-
Martin Johnson Heade's Approaching Thunder Storm- this piece gives me chills. The black water, the dark curve of the wall of clouds, the quiet man in red, that poor sweet little white dog. That sharp white sail in the center, dividing the piece in two… man. Effective piece.
Sanford Robinson Gifford- A Coming Storm. Lake George in that fiery autumnal red, the water a cold mirror, the sky a circle of light- bright, pre-rain- with fire-like smoke and clouds encircling.
Melville saw this piece himself, in New York- exciting to get to share this experience with him. Frederic E. Church- Meteor of 1860- a beautiful piece, that perfect violet hue and the sparkling celestial fireworks.
Love Our Banner in the Sky. The red lightning on the tree- like it's already on fire. The proud and wounded flag.
The thing that really sticks with me is the American landscape, those fall trees, the hints of yellow- I don't quite know how to put it. American woods, American earth, has its own distinct look, something beautiful to it, familiar. I can smell it. I can feel the air. It's a very sweet and placid world this war came to.
At The Front-
Bierstadt's Guerrilla Warfare, Civil War. A slightly passive, distant view… like he's just lounging at his canvas, watching the soldiers… Homer's Skirmish in the Wilderness- I love these dark, wooded colors- also, terrifying. The smoke, the slumped over figure (a bullet through his forehead?)
I love Defiance: Inviting a Shot Before Petersburg. Something beautifully American, and utterly manly, about that characteristic of defiance.
Homer's Home, Sweet Home- love the color of the jacket. His details are so brightly rendered, I enjoy his texturing, largely created by those contrasts of dark and light. This was the other side of the war- the long waits…
Chapman and Gifford-
Conrad Wise Chapman- the only professional Confederate artist, it seems. A painting of the Hunley, a Confederate submarine- found in 2000. I wanna look up that story. Chapman's views of Ft. Sumter are beautifully lit. Fort Sumter, Interior, Sunrise. I didn't realize what a miserable heap of mud Ft. Sumter was- but it makes sense. Shelled all the time. Love the water and the light, the huddled crew around the fire. What an insane way to experience the war, guarding that muddy hole- feels like a weird dirty broken down Scifi story. Like something out of Firefly.
John Gadsby Chapman- Evening Gun, Ft. Sumter- love this one (painted by the father, after the son.) The bright pink, the purple smoke, the brave, defiant, sharp angles, the sharp lift of the flag. Gifford's Camp of the Seventh Regiment, Near Fredericksburg, Maryland. The light and the air in this piece is just Magnificent… and so open… I want to live this moment.
Bivouac of the 7th Regiment- a beautiful piece, another moment I want to live- the dark dream of camp life at night, stoic, the fire. Not til I sat down, some distance from the piece, did I admire the balance of the two lights, moon and fire, like Heaven and Hell, their realms divided on the picture plane by the angled edge of the tallest tree.
Sunday Morning at Camp Cameron, Near Washington- "exhibited in the Oval Office, 1976-1989." Two Republicans and Jimmy Carter. No surprise. I'll have to see if I can find it in a photo from that era. The Preacher and his American flag. Those folksy Preachers, doing their political American duty. I wonder if the soldiers enjoyed this part of their week or if it was boring- if they bought into it or if it was, "we have to wake up early for This?"
Abolition and Emancipation-
Love the bright clean colors of Eastman Johnson's The Old Mount Vernon. He painted the side and the rear- where the slaves were hanging out. Boy. That is Ballsy.
Johnson's Negro Life In The South- I saw this a few years ago at the Met's great American painting exhibit. I love the moss on the soggy planks- the setting is decrepit but still earthy, organic, vibrant.
A Ride for Liberty- the Fugitive Slaves. This is another chills piece. I can feel the cold air. This moment is thunderous and ice quiet, going back and forth in my imagination. Stunning.
Slave Hunt, Dismal Swamp, Virginia. I love the deep, rich tangle of greens- but the human element of this piece is dark and terrifying. Christmas Time, the Blodgett Family- a much more comfortable environment than the vast majority of this exhibit. Good life for that guy, ay? Especially startling in direct contrast to the Slave Hunt piece. Jesus.
A Harvest of Death-
Alexander Gardner, Photos of Antietam 9-19-63.
This is where it gets real. All the glory, the ideology, the soft lighting, is gone. This is just dusty fields, in gray and brown, and dead men. Those gaping, bloated mouths… everything goes stone silent. This is a haunting, horrifying funeral montage. It reminds me of the chamber of blackness and the LBJ library, where they address the JFK assassination- a touch over 100 years later…
President Lincoln on the Battlefield, Antietam- a classic image; until now I've never seen it close enough to read Lincoln's expression- the dude looks annoyed. In a funny, "ugh, you" kinda way. Like he just smelled shit and realizes he can't leave this spot for a while.
Reconciliation and the Reconstruction Era-
Homer's Prisoners From the Front- the space between North and South, and the destruction of the land… this was a beating into submission. Not a truce.
The Fire of Leaves- a poignant, slightly cloying piece- but you need that deeply sappy thread of hope after such devastation. The beautiful sunset violet glow over everything, and that utterly American landscape. Homer's The Veteran in a New Field- another poignant classic, a piece I've seen previously on exhibit.
The Cotton Pickers- really like this one. That sad and thoughtful blend of doubt and determination- what future is out there for these young women? Man, just thinking of each generation, the determined build over every generation towards freedom and opportunity, the long moral arc of the universe.
Dressing for the Carnival- for whatever reason, depictions of low status people having frivolous fun always make me feel like weeping, in the worst way. Even when it's a positive story.
The Girl I Left Behind Me- another chills piece. The gray on all sides, the windswept hair- she's Dorothy. Holding her books, stoic, waiting for the path forward to emerge- but not scared. Determined.
Landscapes of War-
Homer Dodge Martin's The Iron Mine, Port Henry, New York. A big, pretty picture, rusty reds and greens… the scars in the landscape. Reminds me of how useful it is to have superior resources available. That's the American way.
George N. Barnard's photos of the destructive aftermath of Sherman's march. The horse skull in Scene of General McPherson's Death- haunting. God damn- Ruins in Charleston, South Carolina and Columbia, from the Capitol- man. Sherman Wrecked that place.
And upstairs, some Mammoth canvases. Every one of them is magnificent.
Frederic Church's Aurora Borealis- Oh My God. Oh My God. Will I ever see such a magnificent and beautiful sight in my life? The mountain of ice, the explosions of red and the bright blue fire branded through the clouds, the tiny ship caught in the snow, the black sphere, like a sun or a rolling boulder; it all reminds me of Moby Dick, the massiveness of nature.
Love the gleaming red sun and orgasmically violent smoke, and the pouring waterfall, of Church's Cotopaxi.
The Icebergs: love the glowing green tunnel in the corner. Rainy Season in the Tropics- an optimist's picture, the grand hope for crossing over, the safe passage… Bierstadt's Looking Down Yosemite Valley, California- no corrupting human element, a New Eden. The dream of the West as a fresh Frontier. A depiction of that dream of the fresh start, the bloodletting over.
The gallery spans from the cold, overpowering, dramatic blue of Aurora Borealis, to the placid golden glow of Yosemite Valley. A passage from trepidation to hope, moving Prewar to Postwar. And to counter, John Frederick Kensett's Sunrise Among the Rocks of Paradise, Newport, 1859; and Paradise Rocks: Newport, 1868.
The golden violet spring glow of the young work; the somber wintry clarity, even down to the simpler and sadder title of the old work. It's a story of paradise lost; it's a story of getting older. I love it.
A good exhibit- there's not much America did better, artwise, than landscape painting- and I love all the ways landscape painting created allegories for the war. Tons more respect now for Homer and Church. Those guys are amazing.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
theatre #1
THE PILLOWMAN
June 22, 2005
ACT I- Scene 1
Jeff Goldblum reminds me of Ben's dad, so much. Billy Crudup- really overacting in this first passage, as the hood comes off, but maybe that's fair in this circumstance. Muted palette, all grays and blacks. Odd language- 'of what to what OR of what to what?' Serious tone, silly, silly dialogue… "my only duty is to tell a story"… clearly there's a terror in upsetting state power, he's frantically concerned about political material getting into his story- desperate to make clear that it is coincidental, never intentional.
Katurian Katurian- a Humbert Humbert reference? Children getting beat up by bad Dads- quite possibly a political message, to my ears, but Katurian doesn't want to claim it as such. A terrifying act of violence- Ariel throws Katurian to the ground, stabs him in the ear- nobody's laughing now. "I don't know what you want me to say"- reminds me of the stories I've read of Soviet interrogations.
His brother, Michal, is in there- the chamber next door. This angers Katurian. Man, Goldblum- funny, in control, scary. "I don't have themes! I'm not trying to say anything at all, that's my whole thing!" I love the passages of Jeff and Billy… I really like the Two Gibbets story. Haunting. The challenge of 'is there a solution'…
I'm excited to hear his 'best story' as he reads it… Creepy hearing the audience laugh along with the tyrannical bullying of the Detective. "we'll execute you at the end," delivered with smug callousness, is a triumphant laugh line. The story basically sounds like generosity betrayed, a tale of callousness- Oh! It's the Pied Piper. He crippled the child so that he'd survive the spell. "He brought the rats, it's the children he was after." What a compelling line. It's a powerful political allegory, the tyrants that engineer their own fear.
Ariel reminds me of Ryumin. The haunting scream across the hall. The "I hurt my hand" balanced against the torture. Katurian and Ariel screaming- oh man. Ariel has this tendency to the effete shriek. Katurian toughens up- "I believe you're trying to frame us. Because you don't like the kind of stories I write. And you don't like retards cluttering your streets."
Scene 2
Katurian's telling another story now. Shown on a screen. The creative child whose stories get darker and darker- his parents were torturing his brother in the other room. The note- "they have loved you and tortured me for seven straight years as an artistic experiment"- obviously false, the kid wouldn'tve known how to write- whoa! Fucked up! His parents wrote the note! and… oh shit! The corpse of the boy! And the story- 'it was better than anything he'd ever written.' And he burned the story… and the story was true- but that ending was false. He saw his brother, brain damaged- he killed his parents, the pillow held over both of them… haunting. An Insane story. Horrifying. Haunting. Man.
Scene 3
Now we go to the brother's cell. Now we hear Katurian's offstage screams. Now we hear the brother telling a story, the Little Green Pig.
I'm not buying the brother so far- he seems too positive… unless it's that his torture made him understand that he deserves any sort of cruelty. The brother, though retarded, seems decently emotionally adjusted- makes me think that horrifying story is Katurian's creation… don't believe everything you read- seems to be an essential lesson in this moment. We don't know if this is true at all. We don't even know if the children are killed. And it comes out- they didn't torture the brother. The brother, Michal, did whatever they wanted.
The moment of love- the quiet hug.
Michal asks to hear 'The Pillowman.' I'm expecting the nightmarish tale of the previous scene- but it's a nine foot tall man made of pillows. His job is to help men and women who have led terrible lives, and want to kill themselves- he brings them back to their childhood, before the moment of devastating trauma, and convinces them to kill themselves then- and make it all seem like an accident. It is sad, painful work. In his last job ever, he visits himself as a child- and he burns himself alive. The last thing he ever hears is the screams of the hundreds of thousands of people he had helped- who would now lose that help, and live out the agony of their lives as it had always unfolded.
Oh shit- the brother says he had hid the box of toes. OH SHIT- THE BROTHER KILLED THOSE THREE KIDS. "Woudlnt've thought there'd be that much blood in a little body"- THE BROTHER DID IT- FUCK. "Because you told me to!" "I was just testing your stories." "We'll never know will we, because you never did." (write happy stories)… "They're gonna destroy everything now." And now it comes out that the central story is True, "you're just like Mom and Dad." (*There's a pillow in this room… Czekhov's gun?)
"I killed her like the Little Jesus"- and Katurian is weeping. It must've been a truly horrific way to kill someone. "I used to love you so much," Katurian says, weeping. "The Writer and The Writer's Brother"- Michal's read it. (It's about what you leave behind. They're not gonna kill my stories. They're all I've got.) He should've killed his brother when he was a child- the moral of the Pillowman. YOU CAME IN FOURTH IN THE DISCUS! OUT OF FUCKING FOUR!
The Little Green Pig. The pillow getting closer… "It could never be washed off, it could never be painted over." A Green Rain- never could be washed off. Never could be painted over. Every single one of them was green- and now there was just the Little Pink Pig.
And after that story- as his brother is sleeping… the Pillowman. A startlingly long sequence. Katurian sobs on the floor. And calls for the guards- "I have a confession to make, on one condition! It involves my stories!"
My goodness- they fit an absolute full play's worth of drama and discovery in that first act.
ACT II- Scene 1
Opens with the story of the Little Jesus, acted out as before. She wore a beard. She was spunky. Cute, silly start to this story. The dark, dark turns… the sound of the hammer hitting the nail… is horrifying. "No, I don't wanna be like Jesus. I fucking Am Jesus." And she's buried alive. (so many laughs in this show hit at unsettling, confusing places. After the girl is crucified and the parents leave to watch TV- laughter. Did McDonagh even mean it as such? Such an eerie moment.)
Scene 2
And back to the detectives. The plea is to release his stories fifty years after his death. I'm surprised to see Ariel rather shaken up here. He's become frail and empathetic rather suddenly. (or maybe there were hints earlier- the fact that he was nice to Michal.) Now he says he has "an overwhelming hatred for people like you"… "I carry it with me on the bus"… and he Knows he uses excessive force. He wants to protect little kids. It seems obsessively important to him. This is his moment of emotional breakthrough, the character's confession, his opening up. "I stand on the Right side." He's a psychotic man with searing moral clarity. And Goldblum strolls in and dismisses it all with one mocking line.
Ariel had a pretty shitty childhood, too. Goldblum doesn't accept it as an excuse for today's cruelty. "My Dad was a violent alcoholic. Am I a violent alcoholic?" long pause. "Yeah I am." Biggest laugh of the night.
Oh boy- Ariel killed his own Dad, too. His Dad was a rapist. Killed him with a pillow. Goldblum has such a great presence. Funny, sardonic, total authority. "Ariel's a policeman, dogs can police; I'm a Detective." Love this line.
Now Goldblum tells his story; he's kinda making it up as he goes along. The old man sees "this retarded little Chinese deaf boy…" "How did he know the little boy was deaf?" Great challenge. A pause. "He saw his hearing aid." Another huge hit. And the old wise man doesn't help, but he throws his paper airplane out the window, with the essential calculations written on it- and the little boy dodges the tracks to catch the plane. It's cool as an accident- as Katurian sees it, and me- but Goldblum meant it as a deliberate action.
The Pillowman- that's a story that Goldblum liked. That it was the child's choice, sometimes.… the Detective's son drowned. Fishing, on his own. All these characters have a pat moment from their past that justifies it all. Not Sure I love that, but maybe that's just theatre. They use the whole buffalo. There are no untidy coincidences.
*She was still alive. The girl is here. Painted green. With piglets. The first thing on stage that's really broken the palette. What a crazy development (and she's unique…) and now Ariel cracks it. Katurian didn't kill the children. Doesn't even know the Jewish boy's hair color.
Fascinating thing happening here- I find myslef more tense, more scared, more uncertain, for what will happen to the stories than what'll happen to Katurian.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. And I've never said that to anybody in custody." The fire has started…
I was a good writer. It's all I ever wanted to be. And I was.
Katurian Katurian tried to think up a final story, or a footnote… The Pillowman visits Michal. AndMichael says he'd rather live, and be tortured, and let the stories exist. And then he grows up, and all the evil happens, and he dies, and the stories are burned anyway. But that dark ending was coming in the final 3 1/2 seconds- cut short by Goldblum's bullet. And as it turned out, that pessimistic ending was untrue. Ariel saves the stories…
Good ending.
This is absolutely a story that a writer writes- a story where keeping the stories alive is the most precious act. The creations are the children saved, the most precious children. It's an excellent piece of theatre, altogether.
Sometimes the character turns- particularly Ariel- are unconvincingly quick. Sometimes the justifications are too simple. And I'm still confused by how the Little Jesus and the Little Green Pig got mixed up. But there's a ton The Pillowman gets right- it's a powerful story of malleable facts; it's a searing political allegory in moments. It plays with dark comedy, and whenever you think you've allowed yourself to laugh at the darkness, it goes darker and crueler, and shames you, shakes you.
It's an interesting balance of moral visions- the dismissive, distant protector; the passionate rage, both heroic and hideous as the bullets fire; the poet, passively examining the dark side through art (maybe rewrite that part later); and the naked, amoral naivete of the tortured, brain damaged manchild- but not lacking in kindness and a tragic curiosity.
The moral argument in the very last minute- that Michal choosing his torture, so that the stories will exist, is somehow a redeeming moment rather than a grotesque tragedy- is creepy. And the laughter as I've said comes in dark and uncomfortable places, it almost makes you doubt the moral validity of the audience.
The stories are excellent. Art within art can often fail to live up to expectations, but Katurian's stories are dark, thoughtful, thought provoking, and they keep with you. They're very good. Well produced, well conceived, excellently cast; I was more drawn in than I thought I could be, sitting at that monitor. This one was a real winner.
June 22, 2005
ACT I- Scene 1
Jeff Goldblum reminds me of Ben's dad, so much. Billy Crudup- really overacting in this first passage, as the hood comes off, but maybe that's fair in this circumstance. Muted palette, all grays and blacks. Odd language- 'of what to what OR of what to what?' Serious tone, silly, silly dialogue… "my only duty is to tell a story"… clearly there's a terror in upsetting state power, he's frantically concerned about political material getting into his story- desperate to make clear that it is coincidental, never intentional.
Katurian Katurian- a Humbert Humbert reference? Children getting beat up by bad Dads- quite possibly a political message, to my ears, but Katurian doesn't want to claim it as such. A terrifying act of violence- Ariel throws Katurian to the ground, stabs him in the ear- nobody's laughing now. "I don't know what you want me to say"- reminds me of the stories I've read of Soviet interrogations.
His brother, Michal, is in there- the chamber next door. This angers Katurian. Man, Goldblum- funny, in control, scary. "I don't have themes! I'm not trying to say anything at all, that's my whole thing!" I love the passages of Jeff and Billy… I really like the Two Gibbets story. Haunting. The challenge of 'is there a solution'…
I'm excited to hear his 'best story' as he reads it… Creepy hearing the audience laugh along with the tyrannical bullying of the Detective. "we'll execute you at the end," delivered with smug callousness, is a triumphant laugh line. The story basically sounds like generosity betrayed, a tale of callousness- Oh! It's the Pied Piper. He crippled the child so that he'd survive the spell. "He brought the rats, it's the children he was after." What a compelling line. It's a powerful political allegory, the tyrants that engineer their own fear.
Ariel reminds me of Ryumin. The haunting scream across the hall. The "I hurt my hand" balanced against the torture. Katurian and Ariel screaming- oh man. Ariel has this tendency to the effete shriek. Katurian toughens up- "I believe you're trying to frame us. Because you don't like the kind of stories I write. And you don't like retards cluttering your streets."
Scene 2
Katurian's telling another story now. Shown on a screen. The creative child whose stories get darker and darker- his parents were torturing his brother in the other room. The note- "they have loved you and tortured me for seven straight years as an artistic experiment"- obviously false, the kid wouldn'tve known how to write- whoa! Fucked up! His parents wrote the note! and… oh shit! The corpse of the boy! And the story- 'it was better than anything he'd ever written.' And he burned the story… and the story was true- but that ending was false. He saw his brother, brain damaged- he killed his parents, the pillow held over both of them… haunting. An Insane story. Horrifying. Haunting. Man.
Scene 3
Now we go to the brother's cell. Now we hear Katurian's offstage screams. Now we hear the brother telling a story, the Little Green Pig.
I'm not buying the brother so far- he seems too positive… unless it's that his torture made him understand that he deserves any sort of cruelty. The brother, though retarded, seems decently emotionally adjusted- makes me think that horrifying story is Katurian's creation… don't believe everything you read- seems to be an essential lesson in this moment. We don't know if this is true at all. We don't even know if the children are killed. And it comes out- they didn't torture the brother. The brother, Michal, did whatever they wanted.
The moment of love- the quiet hug.
Michal asks to hear 'The Pillowman.' I'm expecting the nightmarish tale of the previous scene- but it's a nine foot tall man made of pillows. His job is to help men and women who have led terrible lives, and want to kill themselves- he brings them back to their childhood, before the moment of devastating trauma, and convinces them to kill themselves then- and make it all seem like an accident. It is sad, painful work. In his last job ever, he visits himself as a child- and he burns himself alive. The last thing he ever hears is the screams of the hundreds of thousands of people he had helped- who would now lose that help, and live out the agony of their lives as it had always unfolded.
Oh shit- the brother says he had hid the box of toes. OH SHIT- THE BROTHER KILLED THOSE THREE KIDS. "Woudlnt've thought there'd be that much blood in a little body"- THE BROTHER DID IT- FUCK. "Because you told me to!" "I was just testing your stories." "We'll never know will we, because you never did." (write happy stories)… "They're gonna destroy everything now." And now it comes out that the central story is True, "you're just like Mom and Dad." (*There's a pillow in this room… Czekhov's gun?)
"I killed her like the Little Jesus"- and Katurian is weeping. It must've been a truly horrific way to kill someone. "I used to love you so much," Katurian says, weeping. "The Writer and The Writer's Brother"- Michal's read it. (It's about what you leave behind. They're not gonna kill my stories. They're all I've got.) He should've killed his brother when he was a child- the moral of the Pillowman. YOU CAME IN FOURTH IN THE DISCUS! OUT OF FUCKING FOUR!
The Little Green Pig. The pillow getting closer… "It could never be washed off, it could never be painted over." A Green Rain- never could be washed off. Never could be painted over. Every single one of them was green- and now there was just the Little Pink Pig.
And after that story- as his brother is sleeping… the Pillowman. A startlingly long sequence. Katurian sobs on the floor. And calls for the guards- "I have a confession to make, on one condition! It involves my stories!"
My goodness- they fit an absolute full play's worth of drama and discovery in that first act.
ACT II- Scene 1
Opens with the story of the Little Jesus, acted out as before. She wore a beard. She was spunky. Cute, silly start to this story. The dark, dark turns… the sound of the hammer hitting the nail… is horrifying. "No, I don't wanna be like Jesus. I fucking Am Jesus." And she's buried alive. (so many laughs in this show hit at unsettling, confusing places. After the girl is crucified and the parents leave to watch TV- laughter. Did McDonagh even mean it as such? Such an eerie moment.)
Scene 2
And back to the detectives. The plea is to release his stories fifty years after his death. I'm surprised to see Ariel rather shaken up here. He's become frail and empathetic rather suddenly. (or maybe there were hints earlier- the fact that he was nice to Michal.) Now he says he has "an overwhelming hatred for people like you"… "I carry it with me on the bus"… and he Knows he uses excessive force. He wants to protect little kids. It seems obsessively important to him. This is his moment of emotional breakthrough, the character's confession, his opening up. "I stand on the Right side." He's a psychotic man with searing moral clarity. And Goldblum strolls in and dismisses it all with one mocking line.
Ariel had a pretty shitty childhood, too. Goldblum doesn't accept it as an excuse for today's cruelty. "My Dad was a violent alcoholic. Am I a violent alcoholic?" long pause. "Yeah I am." Biggest laugh of the night.
Oh boy- Ariel killed his own Dad, too. His Dad was a rapist. Killed him with a pillow. Goldblum has such a great presence. Funny, sardonic, total authority. "Ariel's a policeman, dogs can police; I'm a Detective." Love this line.
Now Goldblum tells his story; he's kinda making it up as he goes along. The old man sees "this retarded little Chinese deaf boy…" "How did he know the little boy was deaf?" Great challenge. A pause. "He saw his hearing aid." Another huge hit. And the old wise man doesn't help, but he throws his paper airplane out the window, with the essential calculations written on it- and the little boy dodges the tracks to catch the plane. It's cool as an accident- as Katurian sees it, and me- but Goldblum meant it as a deliberate action.
The Pillowman- that's a story that Goldblum liked. That it was the child's choice, sometimes.… the Detective's son drowned. Fishing, on his own. All these characters have a pat moment from their past that justifies it all. Not Sure I love that, but maybe that's just theatre. They use the whole buffalo. There are no untidy coincidences.
*She was still alive. The girl is here. Painted green. With piglets. The first thing on stage that's really broken the palette. What a crazy development (and she's unique…) and now Ariel cracks it. Katurian didn't kill the children. Doesn't even know the Jewish boy's hair color.
Fascinating thing happening here- I find myslef more tense, more scared, more uncertain, for what will happen to the stories than what'll happen to Katurian.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. And I've never said that to anybody in custody." The fire has started…
I was a good writer. It's all I ever wanted to be. And I was.
Katurian Katurian tried to think up a final story, or a footnote… The Pillowman visits Michal. AndMichael says he'd rather live, and be tortured, and let the stories exist. And then he grows up, and all the evil happens, and he dies, and the stories are burned anyway. But that dark ending was coming in the final 3 1/2 seconds- cut short by Goldblum's bullet. And as it turned out, that pessimistic ending was untrue. Ariel saves the stories…
Good ending.
This is absolutely a story that a writer writes- a story where keeping the stories alive is the most precious act. The creations are the children saved, the most precious children. It's an excellent piece of theatre, altogether.
Sometimes the character turns- particularly Ariel- are unconvincingly quick. Sometimes the justifications are too simple. And I'm still confused by how the Little Jesus and the Little Green Pig got mixed up. But there's a ton The Pillowman gets right- it's a powerful story of malleable facts; it's a searing political allegory in moments. It plays with dark comedy, and whenever you think you've allowed yourself to laugh at the darkness, it goes darker and crueler, and shames you, shakes you.
It's an interesting balance of moral visions- the dismissive, distant protector; the passionate rage, both heroic and hideous as the bullets fire; the poet, passively examining the dark side through art (maybe rewrite that part later); and the naked, amoral naivete of the tortured, brain damaged manchild- but not lacking in kindness and a tragic curiosity.
The moral argument in the very last minute- that Michal choosing his torture, so that the stories will exist, is somehow a redeeming moment rather than a grotesque tragedy- is creepy. And the laughter as I've said comes in dark and uncomfortable places, it almost makes you doubt the moral validity of the audience.
The stories are excellent. Art within art can often fail to live up to expectations, but Katurian's stories are dark, thoughtful, thought provoking, and they keep with you. They're very good. Well produced, well conceived, excellently cast; I was more drawn in than I thought I could be, sitting at that monitor. This one was a real winner.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
exhibit #3
CLAES OLDENBURG: THE STREET AND THE STORE/ MOUSE MUSEM & RAY GUN WING; THE SCREAM; ET AL (MoMA)
Painting & Sculpture Galleries
Jacob Lawrence- Migration Series- great as always. A beautiful story of adventure and ambition, those American colors, the simple, dynamic depiction of grit and resolve. The next room, all the old hits- Miro, the Dadaists, Picasso's Girl Before a Mirror. I like Piccabia's M'Amenez-y, a goofy work with a lovely balance of gold and green. Magritte's The Empire of Light, II- a lovely and haunting, placid evening work.
Ernst's The Blind Swimmer- love the green and the detailed lines. Looks a bit like a wheat field. Is it a bisection of the eye? Is this what the blind swimmer sees? I like it. Next room, Modigliani, Picasso's Three Women at the Spring and Three Musicians. I'm liking Giorgio de Chirico, his comic book palette. The lines remind me of Dali- an odd, haunted evening city, like a dream.
The Mondrian room… I'm drawn to Composition with Red, Blue, Black, Yellow and Gray, 1921- the blue tint on his classic look. Lovely. Stepanova's Figure (1921)- love it. Looks like late-stage Kandinsky, pulled together and animated in a living form.
The Monet Room, lovely of course. The meditative pastel beauty of Water Lillies,(1924-1925) particularly dreamy. The autumn fire of The Japanese Footbridge draws me too. An interesting point- MOMA got these Monet panels in 1955. Timing was key- Pollock's style and scale made the abstract expressive qualities of Monet's work hip and relevant again. That's why MOMA got these.
The Klee room- Pastorale (Rhythms) reminds me of the Rosetta Stone. sigh… Fire in the Evening is a beauty- I'm virtually certain I've noticed and noted it on a previous trip (the Bauhaus, I believe.) Or the Mocked Mocker is pretty great. Reminds me of Lite Brites. Klee is probably the closest, among legendary artists, to my mother's style. He's just fun- and so detailed. I love so many- Introducing the Miracle, Demon Above the Ships (reminds me just a bit of a Chinese dragon, some sort of east asian myth), The End of the Last Act of a Dream, the Angler, Around the Fish- so many terrific pieces. Augustus Vincent Tack- Dunes, a pretty canvas. Almost like a satellite map. Kupka's View from a Carriage Window- a hint of a tropical dream. Kandinsky's four panels, and Kirchner's Street, Dresden, in the corner by the stairs. Lovely.
The Matisse room. The Red Studio is my favorite of his. Also I'm drawn to the beautiful grays and firm vertical lines of Woman on a High Stool.
The Scream
Here we are- The Scream. One of those pieces that gets the Mona Lisa treatment. Love the red sky. It's 3 shapes- the red divides two traingles and the sky creates a rectangle above. A nice balance of elements here. It reminds me of Nirvana- Nirvana brought the dark and unsettling into the mainstream, but they did it by crafting highly accessible, pretty pop music. Likewise, The Scream is a dark and unsettling piece, but it's that highly accessible, pretty balance of elements- the melody of the painting- that makes it a compelling classic.
Oh, I love his painting, The Storm- dreamy, dark gray rain, the white figure. So compelling. Munch's Madonna, set at the moment of conception- sexy and scary. A compelling piece. Could be a '70s punk flyer.
Painting & Sculpture Galleries, Continued
The Futurist room. My favorite is Carras' Funeral of the Anarchist Galli, the dazzling, kaleidoscopic drama of reds, greens and darkness.
Ellen Auerbach- Elliot Porter in New York. Oh, I love this photo. I'm such a sucker for 1950s NYC photography. A room of Porter's bird photography. Love it. A bird's look does not change with the seasons- a cardinal in 1800 is the same as a cardinal now. I wonder if any animal besides man has "fashion," in that pop evolutionary sense. I love the intimacy of the feeding scenes and the exultant free spirit of the Blue Throated Hummingbird.
The Cubist room. Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, the most famous painting whose name I never remember. Picasso's Repose- haven't seen this one before. Love the caramel palette, the sense of peace. Reminds me of a poetry club in Washington Heights.
Another classic room. Henri Rousseau- The Dream, an old favorite of mine. Takes me back to my childhood doctor's office. The Sleeping Gypsy is here, my other love. It's only just now occurring to me, his two classics- the Sleeping Gypsy, the Dream- could exist in the same moment of reality, if one chooses so.
Odilon Redon, beautiful as always. James Ensor, some fantastic, creepy stuff- Boschlike. And Starry Night of course, fabulous. Such rich blues. The green golden moon. The village at peace, the Heavens turbulent. The marvelous motion in each line, each one a little sweep of a dream. Gaugin's Still Life with Three Puppies- charming! And they close out the floor with Warhol's cans. nice.
4th Floor- all the geometric minimalist stuff… I like Richard Hamilton's Pin-Up. The Johns & Rauschenberg room, always one of my favorites. Two Rauschenberg combines are here- Canyon is the star, a recent acquisition. Slowly but surely I'm getting through my lasting NYC art regret- missing out on his combines show at the Met.
*K
L and I love Green Target.
Next room, some Joseph Cornell boxes. Central Park Carousel, In Memoriam, (a wondrous dream of the stars), and Untitled (Hotel Beau-Sejoir) Mondrian and Newman. Pollock, de Kooning. Fernand Leger- The Three Musicians. Stoic, elegant, an image of dignified strivers. I like it. Humble and hopeful in the same motion, and a parallel to Picasso's dynamic musicians too. Picasso gets them in the heat of performance; this is their family portrait. (I zipped through that floor pretty quick, want to assure time for some other things.)
(Miscellany)
Dieter Roth- Six Piccadillies- pretty. Six interpretations of a postcard, Warholian. I particularly like the flat, bright, late 60s/70s piece. Applied Design floor- there's a minty teal-green setup that Katie would just love. Also on this floor- lots of video games, popular with the kids. I like the Pig Wings project. Kinda creepy, but aesthetically beautiful.
9+1 Ways of Being Political
An activist architectural design exhibit. Being Political here meaning 'an interaction with the urban realm.' I like Aldo Rossi's Urban Construction. I'm getting too tired to draw anything from this exhibit, it's got less politics and more dioramas than I was hoping for. I think it's about time I pack it in…
Claes Oldenburg: The Street and The Store.
"I am for all art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself." Love it.
The Street
Dirty, the Rauschenberg palette of cardboard, burlap browns. Street Chick is particularly striking. I like Street Sign I- looks a bit like a unicorn, or a chess knight. The little Letter Tenement, tiny, lost in the shuffle, clothed in rags- the city's orphan. The Big Man- reminds me of the Met's tribal art. He leans casually, confident, and blank, and stupid. A false God. Funny. A dirty, dripping exhibit. Everything he touches becomes a gruesome parody, overblown, ugly, fat, dripping, silly. he's one of the funniest artists I think I've ever seen. It's funny to imagine somebody back then, appalled and annoyed by this exhibit, and now- joke's on them. This is all in MOMA!
Flags (summer 1960)- Johnslike, though I like Johns' more. My two favorites- corklive flag (I think?) and Landscape with flag and moon- a bit of a dream. American Flag and Street Chick- a lovely blur of color, that turn of the head. It reminds me of a woman looking back just as a bomb explodes… shades of Boston darken my imagination.
The Store
(he had it all set up 107 E 2nd Street- Ray Gun Manufacturing Company.) Suddenly color enters his palette. Commercial objects, depicted in a saggy, vile, comical way. Mannikin with One Leg looks like fireworks, or Starry Night. a very pretty piece. Candy Container with Candy (looks like paint tubes to me), Upside Down City- an octopus.
Breakfast Table- it's fun to take all this in as the living embodiment of the real-time rejection of Mad Men- This is what was going down in the village, when the surface was all suburbs and gloss. Oldenburg's blunt, unimpressed depictions expose the emptiness of the dream.
His classic Floor Burger. There's a guard here, and her sole responsibility is to watch that burger. Cigarettes in Pack (fragment), 7 Up… it's all- there's not too much I feel like saying about it. It's a funny exhibit, a crude parody, it almost makes me laugh at these objects and ideas. It blows up the store. Bacon and Egg 1965- the colors of this one- particularly nice, lovely.
His big, soft sculptures- to draw aparallel to the vast car showrooms of the day. This big floppy piece of cake is pretty hilarious. It changes what a sculpture can be- no longer "rigid, austere"- and it brings the every day to fine art, blows up the pedestal a little bit. He's not just mocking consumer culture here, he's mocking the art world. and in a way, this is a retroactive parody- my classic critique of the Chelsea galleries is that it's all scale, no insight- gigantic magazine covers. You can consider Oldenburg a predecessor and inspiration to these guys, but I think he still mocks them- it's just so big, dumb and whimsical. a big dumb floppy hamburger. He's Showing us it's a silly idea.
Watch in a Red Box- like an alligator's mouth, or a turtle's. Sewing Machine- love the colors. Nice triad here- Mu-Mu, Sewing Machine, Auto Tire with Fragment of Price. The rule now is 'do not touch,' but I wonder if Claes allowed it back then. I can see how it would play with the relationship of work to artist to Allow the touch- but also it's a tighter parody to gravely, self-seriously disallow it.mall I can think about is how much I want to sneak a touch.
Mouse Museum & Ray Gun Wing
I'm gonna give Mouse Museum a try- Oldenburg's collection of objects. It's shrouded, a mystery, yet there are videos playing on a loop, showing off glances of the interior. Feels like a violation of a church's secret scrolls- or on the flipside, it's creating a celebrity effect, the replicated media image creating the hype of familiarity for the presence of the real thing. Two thoughts here- (A) if I were to organize a show, maybe I'd start with video screens to comment on exactly this. (B) That's exactly the effect it had on me- I was charmed by a little seal with a crystal, from the video; I was discouraged not to find it on my first visit, and came back, waited in line again, studied the video, for the specific cause of catching this celebrity.
Inside, pretty cool- felt like being in a submarine, warm, dark, an eerie waterlike soundtrack. Food, anatomy, toys, commerce, plastic- these seem to be Oldenburg's preoccupations. It reminded me a Lot of Mark, or Mom's things. It's fascinating to think of all the beautiful, incredible, intriguing pop culture deritrus collections there are- this one is in MOMA, but probably everyone knows somebody with a similar collection- we each have that one compellingly odd friend. My favorite object- the pink turtle cigarette dish! (and of course, the famed seal.)
Ray Gun Wing- fine.
*NOTE- email Mom about this! she'd love it.
Painting & Sculpture Galleries
Jacob Lawrence- Migration Series- great as always. A beautiful story of adventure and ambition, those American colors, the simple, dynamic depiction of grit and resolve. The next room, all the old hits- Miro, the Dadaists, Picasso's Girl Before a Mirror. I like Piccabia's M'Amenez-y, a goofy work with a lovely balance of gold and green. Magritte's The Empire of Light, II- a lovely and haunting, placid evening work.
Ernst's The Blind Swimmer- love the green and the detailed lines. Looks a bit like a wheat field. Is it a bisection of the eye? Is this what the blind swimmer sees? I like it. Next room, Modigliani, Picasso's Three Women at the Spring and Three Musicians. I'm liking Giorgio de Chirico, his comic book palette. The lines remind me of Dali- an odd, haunted evening city, like a dream.
The Mondrian room… I'm drawn to Composition with Red, Blue, Black, Yellow and Gray, 1921- the blue tint on his classic look. Lovely. Stepanova's Figure (1921)- love it. Looks like late-stage Kandinsky, pulled together and animated in a living form.
The Monet Room, lovely of course. The meditative pastel beauty of Water Lillies,(1924-1925) particularly dreamy. The autumn fire of The Japanese Footbridge draws me too. An interesting point- MOMA got these Monet panels in 1955. Timing was key- Pollock's style and scale made the abstract expressive qualities of Monet's work hip and relevant again. That's why MOMA got these.
The Klee room- Pastorale (Rhythms) reminds me of the Rosetta Stone. sigh… Fire in the Evening is a beauty- I'm virtually certain I've noticed and noted it on a previous trip (the Bauhaus, I believe.) Or the Mocked Mocker is pretty great. Reminds me of Lite Brites. Klee is probably the closest, among legendary artists, to my mother's style. He's just fun- and so detailed. I love so many- Introducing the Miracle, Demon Above the Ships (reminds me just a bit of a Chinese dragon, some sort of east asian myth), The End of the Last Act of a Dream, the Angler, Around the Fish- so many terrific pieces. Augustus Vincent Tack- Dunes, a pretty canvas. Almost like a satellite map. Kupka's View from a Carriage Window- a hint of a tropical dream. Kandinsky's four panels, and Kirchner's Street, Dresden, in the corner by the stairs. Lovely.
The Matisse room. The Red Studio is my favorite of his. Also I'm drawn to the beautiful grays and firm vertical lines of Woman on a High Stool.
The Scream
Here we are- The Scream. One of those pieces that gets the Mona Lisa treatment. Love the red sky. It's 3 shapes- the red divides two traingles and the sky creates a rectangle above. A nice balance of elements here. It reminds me of Nirvana- Nirvana brought the dark and unsettling into the mainstream, but they did it by crafting highly accessible, pretty pop music. Likewise, The Scream is a dark and unsettling piece, but it's that highly accessible, pretty balance of elements- the melody of the painting- that makes it a compelling classic.
Oh, I love his painting, The Storm- dreamy, dark gray rain, the white figure. So compelling. Munch's Madonna, set at the moment of conception- sexy and scary. A compelling piece. Could be a '70s punk flyer.
Painting & Sculpture Galleries, Continued
The Futurist room. My favorite is Carras' Funeral of the Anarchist Galli, the dazzling, kaleidoscopic drama of reds, greens and darkness.
Ellen Auerbach- Elliot Porter in New York. Oh, I love this photo. I'm such a sucker for 1950s NYC photography. A room of Porter's bird photography. Love it. A bird's look does not change with the seasons- a cardinal in 1800 is the same as a cardinal now. I wonder if any animal besides man has "fashion," in that pop evolutionary sense. I love the intimacy of the feeding scenes and the exultant free spirit of the Blue Throated Hummingbird.
The Cubist room. Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, the most famous painting whose name I never remember. Picasso's Repose- haven't seen this one before. Love the caramel palette, the sense of peace. Reminds me of a poetry club in Washington Heights.
Another classic room. Henri Rousseau- The Dream, an old favorite of mine. Takes me back to my childhood doctor's office. The Sleeping Gypsy is here, my other love. It's only just now occurring to me, his two classics- the Sleeping Gypsy, the Dream- could exist in the same moment of reality, if one chooses so.
Odilon Redon, beautiful as always. James Ensor, some fantastic, creepy stuff- Boschlike. And Starry Night of course, fabulous. Such rich blues. The green golden moon. The village at peace, the Heavens turbulent. The marvelous motion in each line, each one a little sweep of a dream. Gaugin's Still Life with Three Puppies- charming! And they close out the floor with Warhol's cans. nice.
4th Floor- all the geometric minimalist stuff… I like Richard Hamilton's Pin-Up. The Johns & Rauschenberg room, always one of my favorites. Two Rauschenberg combines are here- Canyon is the star, a recent acquisition. Slowly but surely I'm getting through my lasting NYC art regret- missing out on his combines show at the Met.
*K
L and I love Green Target.
Next room, some Joseph Cornell boxes. Central Park Carousel, In Memoriam, (a wondrous dream of the stars), and Untitled (Hotel Beau-Sejoir) Mondrian and Newman. Pollock, de Kooning. Fernand Leger- The Three Musicians. Stoic, elegant, an image of dignified strivers. I like it. Humble and hopeful in the same motion, and a parallel to Picasso's dynamic musicians too. Picasso gets them in the heat of performance; this is their family portrait. (I zipped through that floor pretty quick, want to assure time for some other things.)
(Miscellany)
Dieter Roth- Six Piccadillies- pretty. Six interpretations of a postcard, Warholian. I particularly like the flat, bright, late 60s/70s piece. Applied Design floor- there's a minty teal-green setup that Katie would just love. Also on this floor- lots of video games, popular with the kids. I like the Pig Wings project. Kinda creepy, but aesthetically beautiful.
9+1 Ways of Being Political
An activist architectural design exhibit. Being Political here meaning 'an interaction with the urban realm.' I like Aldo Rossi's Urban Construction. I'm getting too tired to draw anything from this exhibit, it's got less politics and more dioramas than I was hoping for. I think it's about time I pack it in…
Claes Oldenburg: The Street and The Store.
"I am for all art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself." Love it.
The Street
Dirty, the Rauschenberg palette of cardboard, burlap browns. Street Chick is particularly striking. I like Street Sign I- looks a bit like a unicorn, or a chess knight. The little Letter Tenement, tiny, lost in the shuffle, clothed in rags- the city's orphan. The Big Man- reminds me of the Met's tribal art. He leans casually, confident, and blank, and stupid. A false God. Funny. A dirty, dripping exhibit. Everything he touches becomes a gruesome parody, overblown, ugly, fat, dripping, silly. he's one of the funniest artists I think I've ever seen. It's funny to imagine somebody back then, appalled and annoyed by this exhibit, and now- joke's on them. This is all in MOMA!
Flags (summer 1960)- Johnslike, though I like Johns' more. My two favorites- corklive flag (I think?) and Landscape with flag and moon- a bit of a dream. American Flag and Street Chick- a lovely blur of color, that turn of the head. It reminds me of a woman looking back just as a bomb explodes… shades of Boston darken my imagination.
The Store
(he had it all set up 107 E 2nd Street- Ray Gun Manufacturing Company.) Suddenly color enters his palette. Commercial objects, depicted in a saggy, vile, comical way. Mannikin with One Leg looks like fireworks, or Starry Night. a very pretty piece. Candy Container with Candy (looks like paint tubes to me), Upside Down City- an octopus.
Breakfast Table- it's fun to take all this in as the living embodiment of the real-time rejection of Mad Men- This is what was going down in the village, when the surface was all suburbs and gloss. Oldenburg's blunt, unimpressed depictions expose the emptiness of the dream.
His classic Floor Burger. There's a guard here, and her sole responsibility is to watch that burger. Cigarettes in Pack (fragment), 7 Up… it's all- there's not too much I feel like saying about it. It's a funny exhibit, a crude parody, it almost makes me laugh at these objects and ideas. It blows up the store. Bacon and Egg 1965- the colors of this one- particularly nice, lovely.
His big, soft sculptures- to draw aparallel to the vast car showrooms of the day. This big floppy piece of cake is pretty hilarious. It changes what a sculpture can be- no longer "rigid, austere"- and it brings the every day to fine art, blows up the pedestal a little bit. He's not just mocking consumer culture here, he's mocking the art world. and in a way, this is a retroactive parody- my classic critique of the Chelsea galleries is that it's all scale, no insight- gigantic magazine covers. You can consider Oldenburg a predecessor and inspiration to these guys, but I think he still mocks them- it's just so big, dumb and whimsical. a big dumb floppy hamburger. He's Showing us it's a silly idea.
Watch in a Red Box- like an alligator's mouth, or a turtle's. Sewing Machine- love the colors. Nice triad here- Mu-Mu, Sewing Machine, Auto Tire with Fragment of Price. The rule now is 'do not touch,' but I wonder if Claes allowed it back then. I can see how it would play with the relationship of work to artist to Allow the touch- but also it's a tighter parody to gravely, self-seriously disallow it.mall I can think about is how much I want to sneak a touch.
Mouse Museum & Ray Gun Wing
I'm gonna give Mouse Museum a try- Oldenburg's collection of objects. It's shrouded, a mystery, yet there are videos playing on a loop, showing off glances of the interior. Feels like a violation of a church's secret scrolls- or on the flipside, it's creating a celebrity effect, the replicated media image creating the hype of familiarity for the presence of the real thing. Two thoughts here- (A) if I were to organize a show, maybe I'd start with video screens to comment on exactly this. (B) That's exactly the effect it had on me- I was charmed by a little seal with a crystal, from the video; I was discouraged not to find it on my first visit, and came back, waited in line again, studied the video, for the specific cause of catching this celebrity.
Inside, pretty cool- felt like being in a submarine, warm, dark, an eerie waterlike soundtrack. Food, anatomy, toys, commerce, plastic- these seem to be Oldenburg's preoccupations. It reminded me a Lot of Mark, or Mom's things. It's fascinating to think of all the beautiful, incredible, intriguing pop culture deritrus collections there are- this one is in MOMA, but probably everyone knows somebody with a similar collection- we each have that one compellingly odd friend. My favorite object- the pink turtle cigarette dish! (and of course, the famed seal.)
Ray Gun Wing- fine.
*NOTE- email Mom about this! she'd love it.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
book review
Moby Dick (Herman Melville)
A tremendous read. At the end of this book, one of my strongest impressions is- I feel privileged that I got the chance in my life to read it for fun. It’s a pleasure.
lasting impressions…
• the musical language- simply too much to try and sum up, but here’s a line from a random page, just now: “There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves.” You can play this game with the Entire book. Open a page, find the jewel. It’s magnificent.
• the classic 5th grader lines (Whale Balls for Breakfast!)
• Ahab’s hip hop dialogue (talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me)
• the touches of 1850 (the racism, phrenology, categorizing the whale as a fish)
• there was a theme or a purpose invested in the name of each ship they encountered. Once this became clear, it got to be fun trying to guess- from the chapter title- how that name’s theme might unfold.
• some favorite lines and passages- ohio honey hunter, the death of the first whale (a murder- reminded me of the murder in Lolita), ahab’s monologue about the whale seeing the bottom of the ocean, maybe my favorite page of the whole book. the pagelong argument about ginger, the zodiac page. the final struggle- the pequod never stood a chance at all.
• recurrent themes: assigning the whale purpose, when he has no purpose; elevating the whaler to a hallowed status; ahab’s fixation; the unifying of the crew into one instrument with one mission- often the book became a story of politics and totalitarianism. The Chief asserting himself in moments of dark, terrifying drama, the men who cheered, but felt their fears in secret.
• the mingling of the pequod’s voyage with the duties of whaling with the body of the whale.
• the versatility- some chapters are poetry, others are science, others, labor; nightmares; political allegories; tall tales; theatre scenes; character studies. It’s a dazzlingly versatile work.
• The last line of the last chapter is the most astonishingly perfect line of the entire book. You can’t land the thesis any more stunningly than Melville lands it there.
chapter by chapter, some moments that really stood out- and in bold, some of the very best, lasting chapters, particularly worth revisiting-
Intro. the cinematic energy of the excerpts, I. Ishmael’s sense of humor, the music in his words; II & III. excellent turns of phrase, and well-painted duskiness, IV. the phantom story, and a touch of era-appropriate racism, V. the sailors, VI & VII. the haunting, perfect juxtaposition of the whaler’s dream and the whaler’s tragedy, and an intriguing end, VIII & IX. the story of Jonah, a magnificent prequel to the adventure, told wisely and musically, X. the deep, growing love of Ishmael for noble Queequeg, XI & XII. Queequeg’s origin story, XIII. death of the bumpkin, Queequeg the superman, and a dark foreshadow, XIV. awesome line, in praise of the Nantucketers XV. hilarious opening, and a good question XVI. Pequod, many excellent, musical lines; first (badass) mentions of Ahab XVII. funny, ‘hams,’ XVIII. funny, and a great Bildad illustration at the end XIX. sassy prophet XX. getting close XXI. love the opening sentence; odd little chapter, funny, many terrific turns of phrase XXII. Bildad and Peleg say their college goodbyes, a kick in the butt, some beautiful lines, and they’re off
XXIII. compelling little chapter, an ode to Bulkington- the restless pull of the sea, better not to hug land in fear; reminds me of Dan Harmon’s story circle, the sea is darkness, the unknown; the land is light, XXIV. a triumphant celebration of whaling with a magnificent finish and the most ironic line of the book, XXV. take that, snoots! XXVI. starbuck XXVII stubb, flask, tashtego, daggoo, the haunting foreshadow of Pip, XXVIII. the excellently striking introduction of Ahab, and a killer last line, XXIX. beautiful descriptions of the sea, Ahab’s intimidating figure, Stubb startled- and Ishmael turning into Melville, inside Stubb’s head, XXX. an awesome chapter, dark and cinematic, XXXI. dazzlingly weird (stubb’s dream), and the first foreshadows of the white whale,
XXXII. cetology, ishmael’s best efforts to classify the whales. some great lines, and as I’ve seen pointed out, it’s interesting in the pre-darwinian context, XXXIII. a reflection on how ahab used power and customs, and how customs have endowed men with power who were very inferior creatures indeed (not that ahab’s an example), a chapter worth reexamining, XXXIV. some great lines (a perfect Decemberists line), and a contrast drawn between the terrified, stiltedly silent meals of the officers, and the riotous meals of the harpooneers, XXXV. a sublime chapter, the enchanting daydream of the days at the masthead- an excellent chapter, XXXVI. a haunting and crucial chapter- the Devil’s communion, the declaration of Moby Dick- the cult of Ahab flowers, the haunting brass score- and some badass hip hop language, XXXVII. awesome language- Ahab’s diabolical monologue, XXXVIII. Starbuck’s monologue, skepticism, resentments, trepidation, XXXIX. Stubb’s monologue, he’ll laugh off the madness and go with the flow, XL. a scene from west side story on the water, a multiracial dance party turned drunken standoff,
XLI. a political parable- cheer with the crowd, dread in private; a fascinating description of Moby Dick, the superstitious and earthly endowments of his character; the breathtaking recap of Ahab’s first encounter, and the way his soul was warped by the whale- an essential chapter, XLII. a study of whiteness, fascinating, philosophical chapter- approaching whiteness in all its meanings, its holy, esteemed status, but also the frank terror it inspires, its wrongness- ending with a good thesis, that it’s the stark nakedness of a thing, a blinding truth of sorts, no painted color to soften the blow, XLIII. a TV cliffhanger XLIV. spectacular, dark lines XLV. the ongoing, ancient battle, whales vs. mankind, some vicious, killer lines XLVI. ahab’s political calculations XLVII. Ishmael’s free will analogy XLVIII. Fedallah’s introduction, Stubb’s banter, tons of fantastic lines from the heat of the chase, an essential thesis line XLIX. wry; Ishmael makes a will L. cool paragraph about Japan at the end LI. lovely, haunting; good chapter LII. brilliant, wise finish- our search always returns us LIII. great paragraph comparing ships’ social styles, and I’m left thinking about all the old sailor’s stories out in the world
LIV. A great chapter, one of my favorites, the epic fable of Steelkilt, LV. gets good on the last page- the question of drawing a whale, touching similar turf as cetology- the known, the unknown, the gap in between, LVI. exciting finish LVII. beautiful imagery, the living mysteries, and the new york historical society LVIII. the indomitable sea, the hierarchy of nature- a magnificent chapter, essential LIX. first mention of Ahab in fifty pages; the ocean, full of violent mystery, unsolvable riddles, LX. death is everywhere- it’ll get you anywhere; and a lot of sailing lingo I can’t quite interpret,
LXI. some great Stubb banter, and one of the most horrifying pages of the book- the whale’s murder feels like the murder in Lolita, LXII. the harpooneer’s brutal, athletic game, LXIII. some 5th grade classics, and more of the sailor’s impossible perils to balance, LXIV. the post-kill drudgery, and Stubb’s supper, with an 1850s black man, a comedic interlude; and a mirror of sharks and man. LXV. Melville the vegetarian LXVI. brutal- the shark massacre LXVII. the bloody sailor’s grind LXVIII. almost a daydream of Ishmael’s, of whale skin, LXIX. a dark and brilliant little chapter, the whale’s funeral, the corpse at sea. LXX. maybe my favorite passage of the entire book, Ahab reflecting on the whale’s head- the powerful tragedies he has seen in the deep, LXXI. a dictatorship of superstition- classic, essential chapter- how cynical prophets profit by assigning themselves power over random acts, LXXII. the Ishmael-Queequeg bond, rather like marriage, LXXIII. killing a whale, ‘Fedallah’s the Devil,’ LXXIV. some cool, wise thoughts near the end- ‘subtilise it,’ LXXV. funny analogy, great finish, LXXVI. tough chapter to crack LXXVII. the whale, more beautiful than man’s best work (a recurrent theme) LXXVIII. yielding oil, disaster strikes- Queequeg the superman, births Tashtego from the whale’s head- ohio honey hunter!
LXXIX & LXXX. some great lines, whale’s brow, whale’s brain, quack sciences (but Melville’s trying), LXXXI. Pequod vs Jungfrau, an 80s movie tinge, with that agonizing death of the sick old whale- some extraordinary lines, and it sinks for nothing, LXXXII. whaling’s potent starting five, LXXXIII. Jonah historically placed, might be worth a reread, LXXXIV. killer finish LXXXV. Melville names the day; this whale killing has me ready to root for Moby Dick, a really lovely end to this chapter, LXXXVI. I celebrate a tail!, lots of dazzling lines and imagery, the whale attacks whales with his head, ships, contemptuously, with the tail; the unexplainable, unknowable, incomprehensible, and the ache to resolve it all, LXXXVII. cinematic, and excellent lines, the surreal, dreamy wonder of the peaceful center of the whale circle, LXXXVIII. a wonderful chapter, the sociology of the whales, the whimsy and sadness, the anthropomorphism- great chapter, LXXXIX. mine to keep vs. mine to take, XC. the injustice of royal power XCI. classic Stubb dialogue, a really funny chapter- a sitcom calibre scheme, XCII. ambergris, why do people think whales smell bad?, and the ultimate mad magazine sentence,
XCIII. Pip almost drowns and goes mad, a haunting chapter, XCIV. Ishmael’s passionate spermaceti trance; separating the whale into its individual components and textures, cut it up, take the parts that have value, XCV. the whale’s dick, XCVI. pure metal, visions of Hell on water, the balance of a man’s morale, XCVII. a small and lovely chapter, the lamp, XCVIII. what is blood and chaos becomes shiny and clean, and clean becomes dirty again,
XCIX. a return to dark, compelling Ahab, a cycle of characters drawing what they will from the doubloon, Stubb’s Zodiac sermon, shifting perspectives and interpretations of the same ambiguous, alluring object- an odd, unique chapter, C. the ivory-armed captain, the horrifying/astonishing story of the arm’s loss, magnificent, essential pages at the end of this chapter; Ahab is singular, even with the same story, this captain draws an opposite lesson, CI. charming, melville sounds like a grampa- love the dumplings line, some mad magazine names CII. beautiful imagery, a beautiful chapter, the whale’s skeleton takes on a spiritual value, beyond the utilitarian, great line about measuring God, whalenerd CIII. powerful thought at the finish CIV. an excellent chapter, a breathtaking survey of the whale’s timelessness, and a thesis moment CV pre-Darwinian reflections on evolution, cool lines about the West, great line about emigration, and an awesome finish CVI dark, miserable Ahab CVII. terrific character study (the carpenter), CVIII. some 5th grade classics, and a dark, fascinating thought about the invisible body CIX. god damn- a dramatic ahab-starbuck standoff CX. queequeg’s spotlight, pip’s haunting phrase, a 5th grade classic CXI really lovely little chapter, a serenade; with an ominous turn at the end, Ahab’s dark brass theme CXII the tragic, mysterious path that take a man to the sea- a heartbreaking chapter with some amazing lines, worthy of a reread CXIII badass, pitch black chapter, haunting last sentence. great, evil Ahab scene
CXIV what a great chapter, so lovely, and memorable and wise. the cycles of calm and doubt in life. CXV everything was filled with sperm- like a bachelor; the Bachelor is all merriment; the Pequod is missing her bride… CXVI haunting, a little hard to unpack, the dead whale turning towards the sun CXVII fantastic, haunting chapter, the famous prophesies. a black jewel, this chapter. CXVIII great Ahab lines, closes with some hip hop, CXIX a hauntingly prescient line in the first paragraph, some cool Ahab lines, nature at war with the Pequod, Ahab summoning the powers of Hell, more or less- a terrifying and dramatic chapter, worth a reread, CXX, CXXI, & CXXII. cinematic flashes of Ahab, the mates, and Tashtego, as the night moves on- checking in on their perspectives after a wild cult of Ahab sequence, a cycle much like chapters 37-40 CXXIII. Starbuck and the musket, an incredibly intense chapter- Hamletlike, CXXIV. Ahab demonstrating his talents, and finish with a classic, killer line, CXXV. a line that hits me hard, more of Ahab outfoxing the obstacles, Ahab softening around Pip, CXXVI. excellent line about the sailors/harpooneers, the wailing, a musical finish, the rambling carpenter, CXXVII. a good gods analogy, CXXVIII. the Rachel- heartbreaking. a powerful, incredible chapter CXXIX. Ahab breaks up with Pip, some more melodic, crazy Pip lines,
CXXX great first page, tenor getting darker, an eerie Big Brother moment, Fedallah creepiness, and Ahab playing political mindgames with Starbuck. an ominous chapter, intriguing finish, CXXXI little chapter packs a punch- God damn. The Delight- as hideous an omen as they could possibly confront, CXXXII a painful, confessional Ahab monologue, Ahab and Starbuck intimacy, ‘maybe it’s God’s will’- the classic madman’s justification, and a haunting finish, CXXXIII Moby Dick. beautiful descriptions of the whale, great lines, and the crashing inevitability of the ocean, Moby Dick turns his hunters to prey with shocking ease, Ahab rendered powerless almost instantly, caught in the center with his wrecked ship, barely staying afloat, CXXXIV the crew unifies in one purpose, a total war; Moby Dick again breaks the hunt to pieces before they really even get started, and turns his back coldly; Ahab’s hip hop swagger, CXXXV the feeling of reading an epic, some killer lines, the plagues continue to center on Ahab’s boat, the best Starbuck line of the book- an amazing sensation of coming death, the epic misty mountain dramatic imagery of Ahab nearing Moby Dick’s side, the whale seeing in that ship everything that Ahab saw in the whale, and destroying it; astonishing last words from Starbuck, Stubb and Flask; the titanic chaos and drama of the end, and that perfect, astonishing final line. Epilogue. Perfect, heartbreaking.
A tremendous read. At the end of this book, one of my strongest impressions is- I feel privileged that I got the chance in my life to read it for fun. It’s a pleasure.
lasting impressions…
• the musical language- simply too much to try and sum up, but here’s a line from a random page, just now: “There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves.” You can play this game with the Entire book. Open a page, find the jewel. It’s magnificent.
• the classic 5th grader lines (Whale Balls for Breakfast!)
• Ahab’s hip hop dialogue (talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me)
• the touches of 1850 (the racism, phrenology, categorizing the whale as a fish)
• there was a theme or a purpose invested in the name of each ship they encountered. Once this became clear, it got to be fun trying to guess- from the chapter title- how that name’s theme might unfold.
• some favorite lines and passages- ohio honey hunter, the death of the first whale (a murder- reminded me of the murder in Lolita), ahab’s monologue about the whale seeing the bottom of the ocean, maybe my favorite page of the whole book. the pagelong argument about ginger, the zodiac page. the final struggle- the pequod never stood a chance at all.
• recurrent themes: assigning the whale purpose, when he has no purpose; elevating the whaler to a hallowed status; ahab’s fixation; the unifying of the crew into one instrument with one mission- often the book became a story of politics and totalitarianism. The Chief asserting himself in moments of dark, terrifying drama, the men who cheered, but felt their fears in secret.
• the mingling of the pequod’s voyage with the duties of whaling with the body of the whale.
• the versatility- some chapters are poetry, others are science, others, labor; nightmares; political allegories; tall tales; theatre scenes; character studies. It’s a dazzlingly versatile work.
• The last line of the last chapter is the most astonishingly perfect line of the entire book. You can’t land the thesis any more stunningly than Melville lands it there.
chapter by chapter, some moments that really stood out- and in bold, some of the very best, lasting chapters, particularly worth revisiting-
Intro. the cinematic energy of the excerpts, I. Ishmael’s sense of humor, the music in his words; II & III. excellent turns of phrase, and well-painted duskiness, IV. the phantom story, and a touch of era-appropriate racism, V. the sailors, VI & VII. the haunting, perfect juxtaposition of the whaler’s dream and the whaler’s tragedy, and an intriguing end, VIII & IX. the story of Jonah, a magnificent prequel to the adventure, told wisely and musically, X. the deep, growing love of Ishmael for noble Queequeg, XI & XII. Queequeg’s origin story, XIII. death of the bumpkin, Queequeg the superman, and a dark foreshadow, XIV. awesome line, in praise of the Nantucketers XV. hilarious opening, and a good question XVI. Pequod, many excellent, musical lines; first (badass) mentions of Ahab XVII. funny, ‘hams,’ XVIII. funny, and a great Bildad illustration at the end XIX. sassy prophet XX. getting close XXI. love the opening sentence; odd little chapter, funny, many terrific turns of phrase XXII. Bildad and Peleg say their college goodbyes, a kick in the butt, some beautiful lines, and they’re off
XXIII. compelling little chapter, an ode to Bulkington- the restless pull of the sea, better not to hug land in fear; reminds me of Dan Harmon’s story circle, the sea is darkness, the unknown; the land is light, XXIV. a triumphant celebration of whaling with a magnificent finish and the most ironic line of the book, XXV. take that, snoots! XXVI. starbuck XXVII stubb, flask, tashtego, daggoo, the haunting foreshadow of Pip, XXVIII. the excellently striking introduction of Ahab, and a killer last line, XXIX. beautiful descriptions of the sea, Ahab’s intimidating figure, Stubb startled- and Ishmael turning into Melville, inside Stubb’s head, XXX. an awesome chapter, dark and cinematic, XXXI. dazzlingly weird (stubb’s dream), and the first foreshadows of the white whale,
XXXII. cetology, ishmael’s best efforts to classify the whales. some great lines, and as I’ve seen pointed out, it’s interesting in the pre-darwinian context, XXXIII. a reflection on how ahab used power and customs, and how customs have endowed men with power who were very inferior creatures indeed (not that ahab’s an example), a chapter worth reexamining, XXXIV. some great lines (a perfect Decemberists line), and a contrast drawn between the terrified, stiltedly silent meals of the officers, and the riotous meals of the harpooneers, XXXV. a sublime chapter, the enchanting daydream of the days at the masthead- an excellent chapter, XXXVI. a haunting and crucial chapter- the Devil’s communion, the declaration of Moby Dick- the cult of Ahab flowers, the haunting brass score- and some badass hip hop language, XXXVII. awesome language- Ahab’s diabolical monologue, XXXVIII. Starbuck’s monologue, skepticism, resentments, trepidation, XXXIX. Stubb’s monologue, he’ll laugh off the madness and go with the flow, XL. a scene from west side story on the water, a multiracial dance party turned drunken standoff,
XLI. a political parable- cheer with the crowd, dread in private; a fascinating description of Moby Dick, the superstitious and earthly endowments of his character; the breathtaking recap of Ahab’s first encounter, and the way his soul was warped by the whale- an essential chapter, XLII. a study of whiteness, fascinating, philosophical chapter- approaching whiteness in all its meanings, its holy, esteemed status, but also the frank terror it inspires, its wrongness- ending with a good thesis, that it’s the stark nakedness of a thing, a blinding truth of sorts, no painted color to soften the blow, XLIII. a TV cliffhanger XLIV. spectacular, dark lines XLV. the ongoing, ancient battle, whales vs. mankind, some vicious, killer lines XLVI. ahab’s political calculations XLVII. Ishmael’s free will analogy XLVIII. Fedallah’s introduction, Stubb’s banter, tons of fantastic lines from the heat of the chase, an essential thesis line XLIX. wry; Ishmael makes a will L. cool paragraph about Japan at the end LI. lovely, haunting; good chapter LII. brilliant, wise finish- our search always returns us LIII. great paragraph comparing ships’ social styles, and I’m left thinking about all the old sailor’s stories out in the world
LIV. A great chapter, one of my favorites, the epic fable of Steelkilt, LV. gets good on the last page- the question of drawing a whale, touching similar turf as cetology- the known, the unknown, the gap in between, LVI. exciting finish LVII. beautiful imagery, the living mysteries, and the new york historical society LVIII. the indomitable sea, the hierarchy of nature- a magnificent chapter, essential LIX. first mention of Ahab in fifty pages; the ocean, full of violent mystery, unsolvable riddles, LX. death is everywhere- it’ll get you anywhere; and a lot of sailing lingo I can’t quite interpret,
LXI. some great Stubb banter, and one of the most horrifying pages of the book- the whale’s murder feels like the murder in Lolita, LXII. the harpooneer’s brutal, athletic game, LXIII. some 5th grade classics, and more of the sailor’s impossible perils to balance, LXIV. the post-kill drudgery, and Stubb’s supper, with an 1850s black man, a comedic interlude; and a mirror of sharks and man. LXV. Melville the vegetarian LXVI. brutal- the shark massacre LXVII. the bloody sailor’s grind LXVIII. almost a daydream of Ishmael’s, of whale skin, LXIX. a dark and brilliant little chapter, the whale’s funeral, the corpse at sea. LXX. maybe my favorite passage of the entire book, Ahab reflecting on the whale’s head- the powerful tragedies he has seen in the deep, LXXI. a dictatorship of superstition- classic, essential chapter- how cynical prophets profit by assigning themselves power over random acts, LXXII. the Ishmael-Queequeg bond, rather like marriage, LXXIII. killing a whale, ‘Fedallah’s the Devil,’ LXXIV. some cool, wise thoughts near the end- ‘subtilise it,’ LXXV. funny analogy, great finish, LXXVI. tough chapter to crack LXXVII. the whale, more beautiful than man’s best work (a recurrent theme) LXXVIII. yielding oil, disaster strikes- Queequeg the superman, births Tashtego from the whale’s head- ohio honey hunter!
LXXIX & LXXX. some great lines, whale’s brow, whale’s brain, quack sciences (but Melville’s trying), LXXXI. Pequod vs Jungfrau, an 80s movie tinge, with that agonizing death of the sick old whale- some extraordinary lines, and it sinks for nothing, LXXXII. whaling’s potent starting five, LXXXIII. Jonah historically placed, might be worth a reread, LXXXIV. killer finish LXXXV. Melville names the day; this whale killing has me ready to root for Moby Dick, a really lovely end to this chapter, LXXXVI. I celebrate a tail!, lots of dazzling lines and imagery, the whale attacks whales with his head, ships, contemptuously, with the tail; the unexplainable, unknowable, incomprehensible, and the ache to resolve it all, LXXXVII. cinematic, and excellent lines, the surreal, dreamy wonder of the peaceful center of the whale circle, LXXXVIII. a wonderful chapter, the sociology of the whales, the whimsy and sadness, the anthropomorphism- great chapter, LXXXIX. mine to keep vs. mine to take, XC. the injustice of royal power XCI. classic Stubb dialogue, a really funny chapter- a sitcom calibre scheme, XCII. ambergris, why do people think whales smell bad?, and the ultimate mad magazine sentence,
XCIII. Pip almost drowns and goes mad, a haunting chapter, XCIV. Ishmael’s passionate spermaceti trance; separating the whale into its individual components and textures, cut it up, take the parts that have value, XCV. the whale’s dick, XCVI. pure metal, visions of Hell on water, the balance of a man’s morale, XCVII. a small and lovely chapter, the lamp, XCVIII. what is blood and chaos becomes shiny and clean, and clean becomes dirty again,
XCIX. a return to dark, compelling Ahab, a cycle of characters drawing what they will from the doubloon, Stubb’s Zodiac sermon, shifting perspectives and interpretations of the same ambiguous, alluring object- an odd, unique chapter, C. the ivory-armed captain, the horrifying/astonishing story of the arm’s loss, magnificent, essential pages at the end of this chapter; Ahab is singular, even with the same story, this captain draws an opposite lesson, CI. charming, melville sounds like a grampa- love the dumplings line, some mad magazine names CII. beautiful imagery, a beautiful chapter, the whale’s skeleton takes on a spiritual value, beyond the utilitarian, great line about measuring God, whalenerd CIII. powerful thought at the finish CIV. an excellent chapter, a breathtaking survey of the whale’s timelessness, and a thesis moment CV pre-Darwinian reflections on evolution, cool lines about the West, great line about emigration, and an awesome finish CVI dark, miserable Ahab CVII. terrific character study (the carpenter), CVIII. some 5th grade classics, and a dark, fascinating thought about the invisible body CIX. god damn- a dramatic ahab-starbuck standoff CX. queequeg’s spotlight, pip’s haunting phrase, a 5th grade classic CXI really lovely little chapter, a serenade; with an ominous turn at the end, Ahab’s dark brass theme CXII the tragic, mysterious path that take a man to the sea- a heartbreaking chapter with some amazing lines, worthy of a reread CXIII badass, pitch black chapter, haunting last sentence. great, evil Ahab scene
CXIV what a great chapter, so lovely, and memorable and wise. the cycles of calm and doubt in life. CXV everything was filled with sperm- like a bachelor; the Bachelor is all merriment; the Pequod is missing her bride… CXVI haunting, a little hard to unpack, the dead whale turning towards the sun CXVII fantastic, haunting chapter, the famous prophesies. a black jewel, this chapter. CXVIII great Ahab lines, closes with some hip hop, CXIX a hauntingly prescient line in the first paragraph, some cool Ahab lines, nature at war with the Pequod, Ahab summoning the powers of Hell, more or less- a terrifying and dramatic chapter, worth a reread, CXX, CXXI, & CXXII. cinematic flashes of Ahab, the mates, and Tashtego, as the night moves on- checking in on their perspectives after a wild cult of Ahab sequence, a cycle much like chapters 37-40 CXXIII. Starbuck and the musket, an incredibly intense chapter- Hamletlike, CXXIV. Ahab demonstrating his talents, and finish with a classic, killer line, CXXV. a line that hits me hard, more of Ahab outfoxing the obstacles, Ahab softening around Pip, CXXVI. excellent line about the sailors/harpooneers, the wailing, a musical finish, the rambling carpenter, CXXVII. a good gods analogy, CXXVIII. the Rachel- heartbreaking. a powerful, incredible chapter CXXIX. Ahab breaks up with Pip, some more melodic, crazy Pip lines,
CXXX great first page, tenor getting darker, an eerie Big Brother moment, Fedallah creepiness, and Ahab playing political mindgames with Starbuck. an ominous chapter, intriguing finish, CXXXI little chapter packs a punch- God damn. The Delight- as hideous an omen as they could possibly confront, CXXXII a painful, confessional Ahab monologue, Ahab and Starbuck intimacy, ‘maybe it’s God’s will’- the classic madman’s justification, and a haunting finish, CXXXIII Moby Dick. beautiful descriptions of the whale, great lines, and the crashing inevitability of the ocean, Moby Dick turns his hunters to prey with shocking ease, Ahab rendered powerless almost instantly, caught in the center with his wrecked ship, barely staying afloat, CXXXIV the crew unifies in one purpose, a total war; Moby Dick again breaks the hunt to pieces before they really even get started, and turns his back coldly; Ahab’s hip hop swagger, CXXXV the feeling of reading an epic, some killer lines, the plagues continue to center on Ahab’s boat, the best Starbuck line of the book- an amazing sensation of coming death, the epic misty mountain dramatic imagery of Ahab nearing Moby Dick’s side, the whale seeing in that ship everything that Ahab saw in the whale, and destroying it; astonishing last words from Starbuck, Stubb and Flask; the titanic chaos and drama of the end, and that perfect, astonishing final line. Epilogue. Perfect, heartbreaking.
NY Philharmonic: The Bach Variations
Some quick, simples notes on a concert I saw earlier this month…
Keyboard Concerto No. 5 in F minor, BWV 1056 (Bach) The first part is perfect- a crisp, cinematic rain, like the soundtrack from an arthouse crossover. The second part- slow, delicate start, rises to a classic energy; lovely.
Keyboard Concerto No. 3 in D major, BWV 1054 (Bach) 1st- instantly recognizable, Springlike; the classic move of the strings like a butterfly's wings. 2nd- somber, more reflective. 3rd- merry, like some gathering in the grand Dining Room at Brighton Pavilion.
Sinfonia No. 9 in C Major, Swiss (Mendelssohn) 1st- a fine drive, an uptempo, harmonious energy, merry. 2nd- more subdued, delicate, an evening. and a perfect finish. 3rd- familiar, quick, percussive, as many of these are; a fine piece.
Symphony No. 4 in D minor, Op. 120 (Schumann) Opens lush, dramatic, the brass adds an authority and pomp. Later on, a thoughtful beginning- the warrior's morning, a meeting with his lady. A dewy twilighy morning. Then a sudden surge at the end. (I closed my eyes for a while, and now the stage seems to glow in amber light.) It rises to the level of a King's march. Great piece. The sounds an orchestra can make are just unparalleled, all rising together, humanlike, blending into one clean, magnificent sound. No recording does justice to the amazing living, breathing blend of sound that one experiences live; this is one of those categories of experience that takes on an almost sacred vibe- meant to be experienced as a communion. (and… a great finish, a triumphant swift surge of energy, and the grand close.
Keyboard Concerto No. 5 in F minor, BWV 1056 (Bach) The first part is perfect- a crisp, cinematic rain, like the soundtrack from an arthouse crossover. The second part- slow, delicate start, rises to a classic energy; lovely.
Keyboard Concerto No. 3 in D major, BWV 1054 (Bach) 1st- instantly recognizable, Springlike; the classic move of the strings like a butterfly's wings. 2nd- somber, more reflective. 3rd- merry, like some gathering in the grand Dining Room at Brighton Pavilion.
Sinfonia No. 9 in C Major, Swiss (Mendelssohn) 1st- a fine drive, an uptempo, harmonious energy, merry. 2nd- more subdued, delicate, an evening. and a perfect finish. 3rd- familiar, quick, percussive, as many of these are; a fine piece.
Symphony No. 4 in D minor, Op. 120 (Schumann) Opens lush, dramatic, the brass adds an authority and pomp. Later on, a thoughtful beginning- the warrior's morning, a meeting with his lady. A dewy twilighy morning. Then a sudden surge at the end. (I closed my eyes for a while, and now the stage seems to glow in amber light.) It rises to the level of a King's march. Great piece. The sounds an orchestra can make are just unparalleled, all rising together, humanlike, blending into one clean, magnificent sound. No recording does justice to the amazing living, breathing blend of sound that one experiences live; this is one of those categories of experience that takes on an almost sacred vibe- meant to be experienced as a communion. (and… a great finish, a triumphant swift surge of energy, and the grand close.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
NBA & music
two quick recaps of things I've done this year:
1) father john misty, webster hall: excellent. the man is a terrific showman, has that jagger swagger- I hadn't expected that, I thought he'd be more of a meek lodge rocker. but no, a marvelous stage presence. and the band is great, great musicians. the song- not my favorite, but the song that grew the most for me, from album to live: "only son of the ladiesman." dazzling live. beautiful.
2) knicks vs. jazz, from tonight. no carmelo, and not a compelling opponent, but still a great night. for a cheap seat, I had a great view. steve novak, a guy I had barely heard of before the night began, finished with 20- nailed a ton of threes, one he hit as he was falling on his back, a great moment. JR Smith was great- he was the guy I was ready to watch tonight, and he delivered. one of the best moments of the night, a jumpball, circus pass that he came up with, after a long and crazy possession, and he drove right in for the two-handed dunk. a guy in my section was taunting #20 on the jazz (turned out to be gordon hayward, the Butler U. star); for the most part nothing the jazz did drew an opinion from me, all the fun was from following the knicks on either end. also, having played recently in that saturday league, I appreciated following the action on court, trying to anticipate the decision making in real time- just following the ball and checking the ballhandler's options at any given moment. makes me want season tickets.
• also- best laugh of the night was seeing that rapid-fire T-shirt super-cannon that could barely get to the top of the lowest rungs. man, seeing the operators give their emphatic thumbs up after that discouraging performance. comedy is contrast.
1) father john misty, webster hall: excellent. the man is a terrific showman, has that jagger swagger- I hadn't expected that, I thought he'd be more of a meek lodge rocker. but no, a marvelous stage presence. and the band is great, great musicians. the song- not my favorite, but the song that grew the most for me, from album to live: "only son of the ladiesman." dazzling live. beautiful.
2) knicks vs. jazz, from tonight. no carmelo, and not a compelling opponent, but still a great night. for a cheap seat, I had a great view. steve novak, a guy I had barely heard of before the night began, finished with 20- nailed a ton of threes, one he hit as he was falling on his back, a great moment. JR Smith was great- he was the guy I was ready to watch tonight, and he delivered. one of the best moments of the night, a jumpball, circus pass that he came up with, after a long and crazy possession, and he drove right in for the two-handed dunk. a guy in my section was taunting #20 on the jazz (turned out to be gordon hayward, the Butler U. star); for the most part nothing the jazz did drew an opinion from me, all the fun was from following the knicks on either end. also, having played recently in that saturday league, I appreciated following the action on court, trying to anticipate the decision making in real time- just following the ball and checking the ballhandler's options at any given moment. makes me want season tickets.
• also- best laugh of the night was seeing that rapid-fire T-shirt super-cannon that could barely get to the top of the lowest rungs. man, seeing the operators give their emphatic thumbs up after that discouraging performance. comedy is contrast.
Monday, January 7, 2013
exhibit #2
WW2 & NYC; JOHN ROGERS; THE POP SHOP; ET AL (New York Historical Society)
Pretty proud that my favorite museum has become super beautiful. Don’t even know where to begin.
The Front Hall
A salon style presentation of Revolution-era artifacts rises parallel to a hall of a 9/11 photography, and a heavily dented fire engine door. Bent, not broken. Nice choices, a past and present bookend effect. In a display covering the Civil War, I just read the entire Emancipation Proclamation. So, so good. Displays about the arts and culture- this city makes me want to do more, bigger, better. Such an amazing place, and we can all contribute. Faceless mannequins in uniform, evoking that 1940s ideal, the classy patriots. Man, beautiful hall.
WORLD WAR II & NYC
Right as you enter, the crackle of the radio (the Battle of Britain), a sorrowful, concerned portrait of FDR, a map of the world, Axis Empire colored red. Amazingly tense. I’m captivated, my heart is moving differently. Before Pearl Harbor Three quarters of the city population were first or second generation immigrants, and political organizations in the city had a stake in the outcome as well. Man, imagine Union Square in 1940, or the debates rattling on at a bodega. Anti-Hitler Symposium, May 25, 1934, at the New School… Chagall, Ernst and Duchamp were among the refugees rescued from Europe, by Varian Fry. Most New Yorkers wanted neutrality. Mr. Smith and Mr. Schmidt, a cartoon book by Ben Martin, contrasting democratic citizens and citizens of a dictatorship. His point seems to be that man can be good or evil, right or wrong- I’d rather a book that shows Smith vs. Schmidt as free vs. unfree, a more empathetic take- equally capable men, but one is a victim of dictatorship. Both types of men exist in both nations, I suppose. American Nazism- strong in the German neighborhood of Yorkville. Must’ve irked the Marx Brothers. Fritz Kuhn- leader of the pro-Nazi German American Bund. LOVE this Dr. Seuss cartoon! Daredevil vs. Hitler! A marvelous real-life example of Kavalier & Clay’s Escapist storylines. Florence Mendheim- learn more about her. What a story.
After Pearl Harbor, the debate is over- mobilization begins, transforms New York. “Peacetime conventions yielded to new priorities.” When You Ride Alone, You Ride With Hitler- love this poster. Did not know the 23d-34th section of FDR Drive is built above rubble from Bristol, England. This Is The Enemy- iconic poster, shown here as a stamp; Artists for Victory. Slave World or Free World, a stamp that looks like what I wanted Smith vs. Schmidt to be. Arms & Armor Department at the Met designed head and body armor for American soldiers- wow. Joe Palooka K/Os the Nazis! Pretty awesome. Scuttlebutt goes to war- adorable! Heartbreaking. A Hitler piggy bank, awesome. Get In The Scrap: A Game with a Patriotic Purpose. I love this exhibition-specific mural of the blacked out skyline, a hundred ships ready to sail. The lengths New York went to to beat the U-Boats. NYC, #1 in war production, #1 in exports- the city where most of the freight ships launched in the Battle of the Atlantic.
New York wanted to do everything they could- and entertaining soldiers before/between their overseas tours- another essential contribution. Man, imagine all the soldiers who had never seen Anything like New York, what a mad, cinematic explosion of discovery and sensory expansion. Lauren Bacall worked as a dancer in New York, entertaining soldiers. I love that some of our boys could look back and Swear they danced with Lauren Bacall. I Love William Henry Johnson’s Jitterbugs V. Irving Boyer, Prospect Park- a dreamy, boozy scene. Latin Quarter- free for Men in uniform! An American Sailor and a Young Woman do the Lindy at the Stage Door Canteen- I love this picture.
Embarkation- what a scene. Love that handsome soldier looking back- the empathetic star of this picture. This mannequin, a buxom woman in a Navy outfit- WAVES- let’s be frank… this is very hot. And heroic, obviously.
Boy, New York basically Owned the war. Just Crushed it. It’s a signature achievement for this city- to go from ten different opinions, most prevalently “we don’t wanna,” just add Pearl Harbor- “we will Crush you.” I love it. Seriously beats NYC during the Civil War- now there’s an ugly scene.
New Yorkers who Served… Man, I love President Roosevelt. Such a powerful, comforting visage. Inspirational. Wow, I Love Jacob Lawrence’s Disembarkation and No. 2 Main Control Panel, Nerve Center of a Ship. Really amazing and beautiful. The soldiers, a faceless herd of heroes, moving like heavy rain.
“If I ever get home, I’ll know there’s one place waiting for me- a small alcove in your heart.” Oh my God, Sidney Diamond. Kills me. So romantic and heartbreaking, his letters to his fiancee.
I could almost cry reading over these profiles. I’m just so proud of these people, these Americans.
Robert Fleischer, what a story. Joined to avenge his cousin’s death at Pearl Harbor. A closeted homosexual who was able to make relations with men in the army- man, imagine all the Brokeback Mountains forged in that conflict. A Jew who faced antisemitism in his own unit, especially from his commanding officer; a Jew who liberated Dachau.
HITLER DEAD IN CHANCELLERY, NAZIS SAY- New York Times 5/2/45 headline.
Eisenhower’s VE-Day Telegram. Soldierly. No unnecessary words. Man. VJ Day, Times Square. “Thousands of people with overwhelming joy, just letting go, as though everything terrible has ended.”- Delaney’s perfect description of the scene in New York on VJ Day. I count among the best days of my life, the night that I felt something close to this- I can only imagine VJ Day though, probably the best day in the life of millions, millions of people. Possibly the best party New York ever threw.
An absolutely beautiful, grand, dazzling final piece, a burst of pure light. A very exciting and fitting end point. But of course, after the supernova, life continues, the struggle, the incomprehensible aftermath…
Chaim Gross- In Memoriam: My Sister Sarah, Victim of Nazi Atrocities. The melancholy curve. Stoic. Perfect, silent agony. My God. My God. Isamu Noguchi’s Bell Tower For Hiroshima- an unrealized design. Horrifying, solemn, incredible. A suspension of a moment, and an endless, haunting rattle.
The War for Civil Rights
Apparently there was a prejudice about blood transfusion- an assumption that blood types were determined by race, and that one could "catch" a race via blood transfusion, like it was an illness. Glad that we've triumphed over that particular foolishness. I didn’t realize the origin of Stuyvesant Town, that it was built preferentially for World War Two veterans- and whites only. A titanic civil rights struggle.
And at the very end of the Hall, finally- VJ Day in Times Square, the old icon.
Landmarks of New York
A black & white photo series by Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel. Big takeaways- The New School’s auditorium inspired Radio City Music Hall; Charlie Parker lived at 151 Avenue B. And, hey! There’s the Little Red Lighthouse, which JD and I walked up to once upon a time.
GI Sketch Diary: Ben Brown’s World War II Drawings.
A GI who fought in North Africa and Italy- Pyle’s route! (though he got there after Pyle)- and kept a sketch pad with him, drew constantly. Love this watercolor of GIs slouching past a wrecked Nazi tank. Work is work. Something heroic in the haggard, determined soldier laying telephone line, in this graphite sketch. his pictures from Italy, the wreckage- the children- astonishing. I love this. Poetry. What a cool guy.
John Rogers: American Stories
Never heard of him before, though I’ve surely seen him. ‘The People’s Sculptor,’ the most popular American sculptor of the 19th century. Created small groupings of figures, starting just before the Civil War, and his production/distribution methods helped him gain widespread popularity. He’s hard to categorize today and is largely forgotten- seems like the Thomas Kincaid of that century. Rogers used plaster to make sculpture more affordable- “he placed fine art within most people’s reach for the first time.” Wounded Scout, a friend in the swamp- dramatic, heroic, romantic in scope. I’m all about it. I can see the entire landscape surrounding them, beyond the boundaries of the piece. Union Refugees, 1863, Returned Volunteer: How the Fort was Taken, Challenging the Union Vote, 1869- a scene still relevant today. Sharp Shooters- pretty fun, I like it. Mail Day- Rogers couldn’t decide what to make so he sculpted a soldier who can’t decide what to write. The Picket Guard- at the left, Leonardo DiCaprio. The decade after the war’s end was the height of Rogers’ career; he became the country’s best known artist. The vibe here in the 1870s is basically 3D Rockwell- Rockwell Must have had this stuff around when he was a kid. The Traveling Magician- very charming; also weird to think about traveling magicians who fought in the Civil War once upon a time. Reminds me of one of my favorite moments in The Master, when we see Freddie taking mall portraits- to see the man at his friendly day job, with all that well-earned darkness churning underneath. Private Theatricals, Last Moment Behind the Scenes- I’d love to learn more about theatre in this era. School Days- love how annoyed these kids are with that weird monkey. Not a high-seller in those days- middle class parlors were no place for urban immigrant scenes. Ichabod Crane and the “Headless Horseman”- awesome. Scary!
The Hudson River School
The Best room. The Course of Empire, the New York Historical Society’s finest treasure. The primordial cauldron of The Savage State, the idealized, placid green glow of The Pastoral State (which reminds me now of Kandinsky’s theory of green [a bourgeois color, the color at rest- regenerative, unchallenging]), the red, gold and marble splendor of The Consummation of Empire, the billowing smoke, black green water, the fires and cruelties, the violent marble poses of Destruction, and the eerie, peaceful shipwreck ruin of Desolation, with the sun hanging on, just about to drift into evening. The Mountain watches it all. Desolation has the misty beauty of a cool day, Just after rain. “The exquisite stillness of a world without mankind.” And Destruction was made almost right after, even concurrently, with this Great Fire of 1835- never heard of it until today, or I'd forgotten about it. I feel like I’ve written about this room before… I’m going to write less and enjoy more, in this space. (*and if it turns out I Don’t have notes about this room somewhere, then I better come back later this year!)
Man- imagine Discovering Niagara Falls. That sight alone would make you believe in God. I love these paintings of Lake George- where is it? Never heard of it. I should reread Frederick Jackson Turner’s essay on the Frontier. View of Yosemite Valley- Astonishing. Donner Lake from the Summit seems to float above, like Heaven. Just now I had the silly thought of, the way certain Biblical concepts were informed by literal phenonema of that era- if the notion of ‘Heaven’ and ‘angels’ began as, weirdoes who lived high up in the mountains.
Thomas Cole, Italian Scene: Composition- so lovely. How I’d love to be that peasant in the foreground. Summer in the Land of the Midnight Sun- a true beauty. One of my favorites in the museum, that cloak of red light, the stoic glacial landscape, the shipwreck- like a Titanic above water, the bones of civilization. Darkness creeps into the corners. This is the room that will bring me back to this museum, year after year.
The Luce Center
Can’t beat the Luce Center. Portrait of Peter Stuyvesant makes him look like a dwarf riding a pony; was he? (only half kidding.) And, ah, a murderer’s row! Roslin’s Benjamin Franklin, Durand’s James Madison, Peale’s Thomas Jefferson and George Washington. Iconic, all of them. Highly unlikely that the Only copies of these would be in a supplemental corner of the NYHS- interesting to think of the era when reproductions had to be created manually. Asher B. Durand, pretty dashing as a younger man. Wow- Abraham Manievich, The Bronx- a spectacular cubist picture. I love it. Coming here always reminds me of the weird hierarchies of art- how does one genius make it to the Guggenheim, another to the back corners of the NYHS? Sultry Night Concert. Beautiful, dusky blues. Moving on- … So Many Fabulous Chairs! (3 Cherry Street- George Washington’s NY address.)
And, oh wow, an awesome section- a Christmas Toy Fair! The Jerni Collection- ferris wheels, train sets, tin soldiers, ornate houses and buildings. Much of it in German. This collections spans from 1850-1940, the ‘Golden Age’ of European toy manufacturing. What ended the Golden Age- the Nazis (many of the great toy firms were Jewish owned), the war, the supplanting of train travel, the rise of plastic over tin as the primary toy-making material. Amazing that such beautiful and intricate things were made for children. I love picture a 6-year old Dean Acheson in short pants with his trains; world-bestriding artistocrats of that certain age. What a grand picture of old europe. Moving on, the death masks, the life masks, and none other than John Rogers- The Council of War- love it. Grant, Lincoln, Stanton.
The Pop Shop- hell yeah. Keith Haring rules. Open a Book- and the World Opens! New York is Book Country. Awesome. The Master. whimsical, effortless, with space enough to breathe. Nothing mean or eerie in it, just pure fun. In his journal, Haring writes about how he loves children- and his paintings and drawings are so fun, so beautiful, effortless, silly- I feel an extra surge of admiration for him, I’m thinking more about how, his is a legacy I’d like to follow, an example to live up to. A man born the same year as my mother. I was hoping more of his wallpaper would be here- there’s a section of the Pop Shop wall installed on a column- I thought there would be more, a whole room.
Looking at a display- all of these objects were made by dead people. These are their children, what they leave for the world, their enduring presence. I’d like to make things that last, too. I picture myself as an anonymous member of a thriving creative scene, like one of the Greenwich village poets banging out a manuscript. I hope I’ll make some particularly good stuff over the years. Gotta learn how to market. The silver section, the Beekman family coach. The ceramics- Enoch Wood and Sons- Gorgeous rich blues; old fashioned tonic bottles, as Oiltrain would’ve hocked. The fabulous Tiffany lamp section. The Prettiest stuff.
Upstairs, Ribbons and Medals, campaign buttons (“vote for Willkie if you want to vote again.”) A ribbon worn at Lincoln’s funeral procession. What’s the name for the Rockefeller Center aesthetic- Art Deco. There are a few medals of that style here, and they’re awesome. And coins from the Civil War, and the 1830’s-40’s, and the Revolutionary/Jeffersonian era. Passing through, a vast canvas of Niagara Falls by John Trumbull- awesome. What a Big country, with such big dreams and possibilities- I’m feeling very American. Scrimshaw- appropriate for me right now, on my way through Moby Dick- in my bag, on my back right now. Civil War camp gear- a Union soldier’s cap. Weapons, police and firefighter equipment… The Great Fire of 1835- I can't get away from it, today. … A creepy-as-Hell exhibit about Puerto Rican immigration- clothes with no bodies, aligned as seats on an airplane. Like a scene out of Left Behind or a memorial to a crash. Textiles, political textiles- William Henry Harrison, Teddy Roosevelt, and- of course- W ‘04. The type of man that would attract textile-making fans. A section on spectacles, very cool. Love those green spectacles, so Oz. Past the jewelry and canes, on to the section I’ve always enjoyed, antique children’s toys. Block puzzle of a steamship. The Noah’s Ark.
Portraits of the City
A Southeast Prospect of the City of New York- amazing. That low skyline, and all woods in the hinterland- and the majestic array of British ships! Circa 1756-61. Man, life will change in Impossible ways, every generation, many times over in a lifetime. The Great Fire of 1835 as seen from New York Harbor. Extraordinary, horrifying. An orange, blazing mass, black-blue-green water, stoic survivors can only watch, or look away. The orange light on their shoulders- you know even there, they can feel it. A portrait of Castle Garden, now Castle Clinton- I’ve never heard of this thing! Big in New York in the 19th century, and today it’s a national monument- wow, really? Not sure I’ve ever seen it with my own eyes. Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread. A lovely picture, in pinks and pale blues, showing construction at dawn amid the snow on W. 45th- the snow looks like knee-deep crashing waves. Bowling Green, New York City. Very pretty. Charmingly simple. The Great White Way- Times Square, NYC- 1925. Dazzling, romantic. This is the world I want to live in. Empire State Building, NYC- a sleek, stark, superman grandeur, 1940 incarnate. Yvonne Helene Jacquette- From World Trade Center: Mixed Heights II. Dazzling, dizzying.
Overall impression- they’ve really beautified this place. I love the New York Historical Society and it’s so good to have it back- and so nice to be back, for the first time in maybe more than three years.
Pretty proud that my favorite museum has become super beautiful. Don’t even know where to begin.
The Front Hall
A salon style presentation of Revolution-era artifacts rises parallel to a hall of a 9/11 photography, and a heavily dented fire engine door. Bent, not broken. Nice choices, a past and present bookend effect. In a display covering the Civil War, I just read the entire Emancipation Proclamation. So, so good. Displays about the arts and culture- this city makes me want to do more, bigger, better. Such an amazing place, and we can all contribute. Faceless mannequins in uniform, evoking that 1940s ideal, the classy patriots. Man, beautiful hall.
WORLD WAR II & NYC
Right as you enter, the crackle of the radio (the Battle of Britain), a sorrowful, concerned portrait of FDR, a map of the world, Axis Empire colored red. Amazingly tense. I’m captivated, my heart is moving differently. Before Pearl Harbor Three quarters of the city population were first or second generation immigrants, and political organizations in the city had a stake in the outcome as well. Man, imagine Union Square in 1940, or the debates rattling on at a bodega. Anti-Hitler Symposium, May 25, 1934, at the New School… Chagall, Ernst and Duchamp were among the refugees rescued from Europe, by Varian Fry. Most New Yorkers wanted neutrality. Mr. Smith and Mr. Schmidt, a cartoon book by Ben Martin, contrasting democratic citizens and citizens of a dictatorship. His point seems to be that man can be good or evil, right or wrong- I’d rather a book that shows Smith vs. Schmidt as free vs. unfree, a more empathetic take- equally capable men, but one is a victim of dictatorship. Both types of men exist in both nations, I suppose. American Nazism- strong in the German neighborhood of Yorkville. Must’ve irked the Marx Brothers. Fritz Kuhn- leader of the pro-Nazi German American Bund. LOVE this Dr. Seuss cartoon! Daredevil vs. Hitler! A marvelous real-life example of Kavalier & Clay’s Escapist storylines. Florence Mendheim- learn more about her. What a story.
After Pearl Harbor, the debate is over- mobilization begins, transforms New York. “Peacetime conventions yielded to new priorities.” When You Ride Alone, You Ride With Hitler- love this poster. Did not know the 23d-34th section of FDR Drive is built above rubble from Bristol, England. This Is The Enemy- iconic poster, shown here as a stamp; Artists for Victory. Slave World or Free World, a stamp that looks like what I wanted Smith vs. Schmidt to be. Arms & Armor Department at the Met designed head and body armor for American soldiers- wow. Joe Palooka K/Os the Nazis! Pretty awesome. Scuttlebutt goes to war- adorable! Heartbreaking. A Hitler piggy bank, awesome. Get In The Scrap: A Game with a Patriotic Purpose. I love this exhibition-specific mural of the blacked out skyline, a hundred ships ready to sail. The lengths New York went to to beat the U-Boats. NYC, #1 in war production, #1 in exports- the city where most of the freight ships launched in the Battle of the Atlantic.
New York wanted to do everything they could- and entertaining soldiers before/between their overseas tours- another essential contribution. Man, imagine all the soldiers who had never seen Anything like New York, what a mad, cinematic explosion of discovery and sensory expansion. Lauren Bacall worked as a dancer in New York, entertaining soldiers. I love that some of our boys could look back and Swear they danced with Lauren Bacall. I Love William Henry Johnson’s Jitterbugs V. Irving Boyer, Prospect Park- a dreamy, boozy scene. Latin Quarter- free for Men in uniform! An American Sailor and a Young Woman do the Lindy at the Stage Door Canteen- I love this picture.
Embarkation- what a scene. Love that handsome soldier looking back- the empathetic star of this picture. This mannequin, a buxom woman in a Navy outfit- WAVES- let’s be frank… this is very hot. And heroic, obviously.
Boy, New York basically Owned the war. Just Crushed it. It’s a signature achievement for this city- to go from ten different opinions, most prevalently “we don’t wanna,” just add Pearl Harbor- “we will Crush you.” I love it. Seriously beats NYC during the Civil War- now there’s an ugly scene.
New Yorkers who Served… Man, I love President Roosevelt. Such a powerful, comforting visage. Inspirational. Wow, I Love Jacob Lawrence’s Disembarkation and No. 2 Main Control Panel, Nerve Center of a Ship. Really amazing and beautiful. The soldiers, a faceless herd of heroes, moving like heavy rain.
“If I ever get home, I’ll know there’s one place waiting for me- a small alcove in your heart.” Oh my God, Sidney Diamond. Kills me. So romantic and heartbreaking, his letters to his fiancee.
I could almost cry reading over these profiles. I’m just so proud of these people, these Americans.
Robert Fleischer, what a story. Joined to avenge his cousin’s death at Pearl Harbor. A closeted homosexual who was able to make relations with men in the army- man, imagine all the Brokeback Mountains forged in that conflict. A Jew who faced antisemitism in his own unit, especially from his commanding officer; a Jew who liberated Dachau.
HITLER DEAD IN CHANCELLERY, NAZIS SAY- New York Times 5/2/45 headline.
Eisenhower’s VE-Day Telegram. Soldierly. No unnecessary words. Man. VJ Day, Times Square. “Thousands of people with overwhelming joy, just letting go, as though everything terrible has ended.”- Delaney’s perfect description of the scene in New York on VJ Day. I count among the best days of my life, the night that I felt something close to this- I can only imagine VJ Day though, probably the best day in the life of millions, millions of people. Possibly the best party New York ever threw.
An absolutely beautiful, grand, dazzling final piece, a burst of pure light. A very exciting and fitting end point. But of course, after the supernova, life continues, the struggle, the incomprehensible aftermath…
Chaim Gross- In Memoriam: My Sister Sarah, Victim of Nazi Atrocities. The melancholy curve. Stoic. Perfect, silent agony. My God. My God. Isamu Noguchi’s Bell Tower For Hiroshima- an unrealized design. Horrifying, solemn, incredible. A suspension of a moment, and an endless, haunting rattle.
The War for Civil Rights
Apparently there was a prejudice about blood transfusion- an assumption that blood types were determined by race, and that one could "catch" a race via blood transfusion, like it was an illness. Glad that we've triumphed over that particular foolishness. I didn’t realize the origin of Stuyvesant Town, that it was built preferentially for World War Two veterans- and whites only. A titanic civil rights struggle.
And at the very end of the Hall, finally- VJ Day in Times Square, the old icon.
Landmarks of New York
A black & white photo series by Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel. Big takeaways- The New School’s auditorium inspired Radio City Music Hall; Charlie Parker lived at 151 Avenue B. And, hey! There’s the Little Red Lighthouse, which JD and I walked up to once upon a time.
GI Sketch Diary: Ben Brown’s World War II Drawings.
A GI who fought in North Africa and Italy- Pyle’s route! (though he got there after Pyle)- and kept a sketch pad with him, drew constantly. Love this watercolor of GIs slouching past a wrecked Nazi tank. Work is work. Something heroic in the haggard, determined soldier laying telephone line, in this graphite sketch. his pictures from Italy, the wreckage- the children- astonishing. I love this. Poetry. What a cool guy.
John Rogers: American Stories
Never heard of him before, though I’ve surely seen him. ‘The People’s Sculptor,’ the most popular American sculptor of the 19th century. Created small groupings of figures, starting just before the Civil War, and his production/distribution methods helped him gain widespread popularity. He’s hard to categorize today and is largely forgotten- seems like the Thomas Kincaid of that century. Rogers used plaster to make sculpture more affordable- “he placed fine art within most people’s reach for the first time.” Wounded Scout, a friend in the swamp- dramatic, heroic, romantic in scope. I’m all about it. I can see the entire landscape surrounding them, beyond the boundaries of the piece. Union Refugees, 1863, Returned Volunteer: How the Fort was Taken, Challenging the Union Vote, 1869- a scene still relevant today. Sharp Shooters- pretty fun, I like it. Mail Day- Rogers couldn’t decide what to make so he sculpted a soldier who can’t decide what to write. The Picket Guard- at the left, Leonardo DiCaprio. The decade after the war’s end was the height of Rogers’ career; he became the country’s best known artist. The vibe here in the 1870s is basically 3D Rockwell- Rockwell Must have had this stuff around when he was a kid. The Traveling Magician- very charming; also weird to think about traveling magicians who fought in the Civil War once upon a time. Reminds me of one of my favorite moments in The Master, when we see Freddie taking mall portraits- to see the man at his friendly day job, with all that well-earned darkness churning underneath. Private Theatricals, Last Moment Behind the Scenes- I’d love to learn more about theatre in this era. School Days- love how annoyed these kids are with that weird monkey. Not a high-seller in those days- middle class parlors were no place for urban immigrant scenes. Ichabod Crane and the “Headless Horseman”- awesome. Scary!
The Hudson River School
The Best room. The Course of Empire, the New York Historical Society’s finest treasure. The primordial cauldron of The Savage State, the idealized, placid green glow of The Pastoral State (which reminds me now of Kandinsky’s theory of green [a bourgeois color, the color at rest- regenerative, unchallenging]), the red, gold and marble splendor of The Consummation of Empire, the billowing smoke, black green water, the fires and cruelties, the violent marble poses of Destruction, and the eerie, peaceful shipwreck ruin of Desolation, with the sun hanging on, just about to drift into evening. The Mountain watches it all. Desolation has the misty beauty of a cool day, Just after rain. “The exquisite stillness of a world without mankind.” And Destruction was made almost right after, even concurrently, with this Great Fire of 1835- never heard of it until today, or I'd forgotten about it. I feel like I’ve written about this room before… I’m going to write less and enjoy more, in this space. (*and if it turns out I Don’t have notes about this room somewhere, then I better come back later this year!)
Man- imagine Discovering Niagara Falls. That sight alone would make you believe in God. I love these paintings of Lake George- where is it? Never heard of it. I should reread Frederick Jackson Turner’s essay on the Frontier. View of Yosemite Valley- Astonishing. Donner Lake from the Summit seems to float above, like Heaven. Just now I had the silly thought of, the way certain Biblical concepts were informed by literal phenonema of that era- if the notion of ‘Heaven’ and ‘angels’ began as, weirdoes who lived high up in the mountains.
Thomas Cole, Italian Scene: Composition- so lovely. How I’d love to be that peasant in the foreground. Summer in the Land of the Midnight Sun- a true beauty. One of my favorites in the museum, that cloak of red light, the stoic glacial landscape, the shipwreck- like a Titanic above water, the bones of civilization. Darkness creeps into the corners. This is the room that will bring me back to this museum, year after year.
The Luce Center
Can’t beat the Luce Center. Portrait of Peter Stuyvesant makes him look like a dwarf riding a pony; was he? (only half kidding.) And, ah, a murderer’s row! Roslin’s Benjamin Franklin, Durand’s James Madison, Peale’s Thomas Jefferson and George Washington. Iconic, all of them. Highly unlikely that the Only copies of these would be in a supplemental corner of the NYHS- interesting to think of the era when reproductions had to be created manually. Asher B. Durand, pretty dashing as a younger man. Wow- Abraham Manievich, The Bronx- a spectacular cubist picture. I love it. Coming here always reminds me of the weird hierarchies of art- how does one genius make it to the Guggenheim, another to the back corners of the NYHS? Sultry Night Concert. Beautiful, dusky blues. Moving on- … So Many Fabulous Chairs! (3 Cherry Street- George Washington’s NY address.)
And, oh wow, an awesome section- a Christmas Toy Fair! The Jerni Collection- ferris wheels, train sets, tin soldiers, ornate houses and buildings. Much of it in German. This collections spans from 1850-1940, the ‘Golden Age’ of European toy manufacturing. What ended the Golden Age- the Nazis (many of the great toy firms were Jewish owned), the war, the supplanting of train travel, the rise of plastic over tin as the primary toy-making material. Amazing that such beautiful and intricate things were made for children. I love picture a 6-year old Dean Acheson in short pants with his trains; world-bestriding artistocrats of that certain age. What a grand picture of old europe. Moving on, the death masks, the life masks, and none other than John Rogers- The Council of War- love it. Grant, Lincoln, Stanton.
The Pop Shop- hell yeah. Keith Haring rules. Open a Book- and the World Opens! New York is Book Country. Awesome. The Master. whimsical, effortless, with space enough to breathe. Nothing mean or eerie in it, just pure fun. In his journal, Haring writes about how he loves children- and his paintings and drawings are so fun, so beautiful, effortless, silly- I feel an extra surge of admiration for him, I’m thinking more about how, his is a legacy I’d like to follow, an example to live up to. A man born the same year as my mother. I was hoping more of his wallpaper would be here- there’s a section of the Pop Shop wall installed on a column- I thought there would be more, a whole room.
Looking at a display- all of these objects were made by dead people. These are their children, what they leave for the world, their enduring presence. I’d like to make things that last, too. I picture myself as an anonymous member of a thriving creative scene, like one of the Greenwich village poets banging out a manuscript. I hope I’ll make some particularly good stuff over the years. Gotta learn how to market. The silver section, the Beekman family coach. The ceramics- Enoch Wood and Sons- Gorgeous rich blues; old fashioned tonic bottles, as Oiltrain would’ve hocked. The fabulous Tiffany lamp section. The Prettiest stuff.
Upstairs, Ribbons and Medals, campaign buttons (“vote for Willkie if you want to vote again.”) A ribbon worn at Lincoln’s funeral procession. What’s the name for the Rockefeller Center aesthetic- Art Deco. There are a few medals of that style here, and they’re awesome. And coins from the Civil War, and the 1830’s-40’s, and the Revolutionary/Jeffersonian era. Passing through, a vast canvas of Niagara Falls by John Trumbull- awesome. What a Big country, with such big dreams and possibilities- I’m feeling very American. Scrimshaw- appropriate for me right now, on my way through Moby Dick- in my bag, on my back right now. Civil War camp gear- a Union soldier’s cap. Weapons, police and firefighter equipment… The Great Fire of 1835- I can't get away from it, today. … A creepy-as-Hell exhibit about Puerto Rican immigration- clothes with no bodies, aligned as seats on an airplane. Like a scene out of Left Behind or a memorial to a crash. Textiles, political textiles- William Henry Harrison, Teddy Roosevelt, and- of course- W ‘04. The type of man that would attract textile-making fans. A section on spectacles, very cool. Love those green spectacles, so Oz. Past the jewelry and canes, on to the section I’ve always enjoyed, antique children’s toys. Block puzzle of a steamship. The Noah’s Ark.
Portraits of the City
A Southeast Prospect of the City of New York- amazing. That low skyline, and all woods in the hinterland- and the majestic array of British ships! Circa 1756-61. Man, life will change in Impossible ways, every generation, many times over in a lifetime. The Great Fire of 1835 as seen from New York Harbor. Extraordinary, horrifying. An orange, blazing mass, black-blue-green water, stoic survivors can only watch, or look away. The orange light on their shoulders- you know even there, they can feel it. A portrait of Castle Garden, now Castle Clinton- I’ve never heard of this thing! Big in New York in the 19th century, and today it’s a national monument- wow, really? Not sure I’ve ever seen it with my own eyes. Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread. A lovely picture, in pinks and pale blues, showing construction at dawn amid the snow on W. 45th- the snow looks like knee-deep crashing waves. Bowling Green, New York City. Very pretty. Charmingly simple. The Great White Way- Times Square, NYC- 1925. Dazzling, romantic. This is the world I want to live in. Empire State Building, NYC- a sleek, stark, superman grandeur, 1940 incarnate. Yvonne Helene Jacquette- From World Trade Center: Mixed Heights II. Dazzling, dizzying.
Overall impression- they’ve really beautified this place. I love the New York Historical Society and it’s so good to have it back- and so nice to be back, for the first time in maybe more than three years.
Friday, December 7, 2012
exhibit #1
PICASSO; KANDINSKY; OROZCO (Guggenheim)
PICASSO: Black and White.
Picasso believed that “color weakens”- “he purged it from his work in order to highlight the formal structure and autonomy of form inherent in his art.” This is the first exhibition devoted to his use of black and white.
SECTION 1: He had his Blue period- themes of poverty and loneliness- after the death of his friend Carlos Casanegas in 1901. His Rose period began in 1905, after he settled in Paris and met his companion, Fernande Olivier. Les Demoiselles d’Avignon was completed in 1907- this set off a period, continuing up until the Great War, in which he engaged in a cubist pictorial dialogue with Braque. In the wake of that war, and with the birth of his son Paulo in 1921, Picasso turned to neoclassical figurative painting, portraits of mothers & children, lovers. His muted palette in this phase also alludes to the classical sculpture and painting he encountered in Rome, Naples and Pompeii.
The exhibit opens with Woman Ironing, one of the last major Blue Period canvasses. That sharp elbow, that tender, slim smile.
I love his sculptures, his busts. What a bold take on the works of antiquity- Bust of a Woman (Marie-Therese) '31, Head of a Woman (Dora) '41, Head of a Woman, Left Profile (Marie Therese)'31. Extraordinary pieces. Beautiful and also a little horrifying. Reverential and countercultural. Seeing his themes in 3D somehow makes the shock of them, the contradictions, more visceral.
Cubist pieces, some primitive figures- cubist portraiture. A dark, pained vibe. Shocking their time. Head of a Man (1908)- pitch black tears. Incredibly desolate.
Bottle and Wine Glass- love the newspaper element. The ad for the Gramophone within the clipping, combining art forms. The aged nature of wine and the disposable nature of news, a witty pairing. I think of old newspaper a lot when I think of '20s art; collage. I wonder what they were going for- perhaps a statement about the aggressive immediacy and modernity of their work, or a sly joke about the contradiction of what’s essential today and disposable tomorrow. Maybe it speaks to mass-production, or an effort to combine media streams, or to mock established orders, subjugate old media to new. Maybe it’s a commentary on how the urgencies of the times holds art hostage; and how art can strike back. Perhaps, being a history fan, it hits me more than it hit them; perhaps that’s the point.
Accordionist- arriving now at the 'Picasso or Braque?' phase. A cool work.
Seated Nude, winter 22-23. This is more how I think of his neoclassical pieces (than the following works.) That reflection in the mirror makes the whole work. So beautiful. The sweet dreamy melancholy of a young girl.
Man with Pipe- excellent. Olga in a Fur Collar, The Artist’s Wife (Portrait of Olga Khokhlova)- really magnificent. Picasso could paint in any way, any style. The fur coat piece is especially lovely- looks like Greta Gerwig to me. I have never seen any Picasso that looks quite like this. Beginning of the ‘20s. I knew he turned neoclassical after the war; didn’t realize those pieces got quite this realistic or clean, elegant. Thought they were more Romanesque, a touch cartoonier. But no, he can do it all.
SECTION 2: Picasso went into the ‘20s still interested in serene, neoclassical portraits. In 1927 he met Marie-Therese Walter, a chance encounter that flowered into a passionate relationship and inspired an extraordinary group of works, “a new visual language inspired by her curvaceous form.” In the mid twenties, he shifted away from neoclassical portraits and towards surrealism, distortion, organic forms- and The Milliners Workshop, with its curves, marks a breakthrough in that direction.
The Lovers- what a piece. Looks like it was made in Brooklyn last year. Nope! France ‘23. Such a subtle and varied background. Clean, intimate, realistic figures. Understated. Very pretty.
Bust of a Woman, Arms Raised- a classic. so beautiful. so tender. magnificently conceived.
Woman in White- A classic.
The Milliners Workshop- Sexy, dark. Looks like the audience in a dark cafe while (that famous picasso 3-piece band) plays. Seems somehow sad and dark- maybe a story of oppressive labor. The figure on the right- the boss coming through the door? Always watching…
Arabesque Woman- rolling lines, voluptuous shape, ambiguous figure. I like it. I Love these- Acrobat (1-9-30), Woman Acrobat (1-19-30), Female Bust and Profile on Gray and White Ground. So whimsical and strange and imaginative. The Acrobats fill the canvas at surprising angles. the central piece, evocative and idiotic at the same time, like a parody cologne ad. I really love it. Figure (1928)- so peculiar. I'm all about it. This is the stuff that really delights me, the whimsical, surprising, cartoony stuff. Standing Woman (summer '27) is absolutely delightful. Clean white background, clean black lines, she looks like a puppet N. Some parts discernable, others ambiguous. A naked turtle. Simply terrific.
SECTION 3: Very much influenced by Marie-Therese Walter. Picasso loved her youthful vitality, athletic physique, and love for swimming. She was his Muse and subject in this period (late 20s to mid 30s, pre-Guernica). Mostly sparse works on display here, though some of the pieces (Boats & Figures, Swimming Woman) hint at the themes and possibilities that erupt with Guernica.
Bust of a Woman- very pretty, more completely painted than the others. Overall this is a pretty, tender, reflective section. Sleeping Woman- beautiful. Only one piece at a time in this section- really makes the viewing experience meditative, tender. Head of a Woman, Right Profile (Marie-Therese)- an exceptionally beautiful and dashing piece. Romantic in that dreamy sentimental 19th century way. I love it. Marie-Therese, Face and Profile- Like the moon. fantastic. Marie-Therese, Pensive- love it. Love the texture of this one. This lady inspired some real beauties- would love to see a photo of her.
My goodness, Woman With Flower Writing- so clean, graceful, simple, intimate. Absolutely love it. Swimming Woman- horrifying, Dali-esque. But picturing her in motion, breaking the waves, truly adds a lot of energy to the piece- the title makes it leap a level, makes it dynamic, brave, exciting, when my first instinct was terror. Makes me think of how the body in intense athletic motion, watched in slo-mo, is fantastically ugly. Compelling piece.
Boat & Figures, cool drawing. A story of doomed poverty, really- the lazy, shiftless fisher.
I Love these: Woman With Joined Hands (Marie-Therese), the dainty, spiderlike, Gahan Wilson/Egon Schiele vibe of Portrait of Nusch Eluard, the dreamy, strangely real look of Woman (Ines Sassier) and Child. This piece reminds me of a realistic, humanized drawing of the Simpsons or somesuch. The butterfly in transition, between the human realm and Picasso.
Marie-Therese Walter committed suicide a few years after Picasso died. What a fascinating moral quandary- he immortalized her, made her beautiful, but also probably warped her world and fucked with her in some terrible ways too. He essentially squeezed the life force out of her like a sponge, and I don’t know much about how it affected her- I’d assume poorly- but what he squeezed of her on the canvas is immortal, beautiful, bigger than the individual or the pair. Her life vs. her life in his hands, which did she get to live? I'd like to see a movie about her.
SECTION 4: A bleak and dangerous time. His new love Dora Maar influenced some of his work. The misery of occupation did, too. Much of this section is devoted to sketches for Guernica. He completed 45 sketches for that piece- I can't imagine doing Anything 45 times before I make the 'official' work. Hard work. That's what makes the greats.
Woman Asleep at a Table- hip.
Composition Study, Sketch for Guernica- clean, beautiful little piece. Clean lines. The gentle face of the dead. The stoic, maybe sinister bull.
Mother with Dead Child II- Postscript to Guernica. Haunting, astonishing work. Man, the vivid nightmare face of the woman. Everything else except for that visceral, terrible shock fades into the background- time stops, only sheer terror and agony lives in that moment.
Man, I love his faces. Man With Ice Cream Cone is one of Picasso’s archetypal faces, the farmer. I’d love to see a list of Picasso’s facial archetypes. Farmer, Minotaur, Harlequin, Roman woman. I love the pretty and ugly complexity of Little Girl with a Pacifier Under a Chair.
Love the eerie midnight Dark Gray Face with White Hat- the glow on the face and the corner box implies, to the modern eye, a creature watching weird TV or conducting distasteful internet discourse. Head of a Woman (4-27-44) looks like an art student sketched an Easter Island site. I’d call Bust of a Woman on Gray Ground “Portrait of a Jerk.” Still Life with Blood Sausage- Creepy. Looks like stuff that Mr. White Hat would own.
SECTION 5: In this phase, Picasso’s primary motives and purposes: reacting against war, paying homage to the old masters, euologizing his friends, celebrating beautiful women.
Horned Head II- simple, cartoony, but a little grim, a little naked. sad. I like it.
The Charnel House- evocative of WW2. Looks like Guernica. Skull- dark, horrifying. Picasso was in occupied Paris during the war- didn’t realize.
Sylvette- a lovely, charming, quaint work. A slim and delicate lady, more angular, less curvaceous than I usually expect of Picasso. Woman Seated in an Armchair- very exciting. I love it. Clean lines, light strokes, the face curving in on itself. The Kitchen- looks like a weird, playful blueprint- precise, clockwork, indecipherable, alien. Faces in there? Whimsical, simple. More abstract, less figural than his usual. It almost seems like an unlabeled Rube Goldberg machine.
The Maids of Honor- (Las Meninas, after Velazquez)- Beautiful parlor room piece. Magnificent. Usually in Barcelona- wonder if JD ever saw it. You could divide it cleanly into six and you’d have six distinct and beautiful works. I wanna look at it, think about it more- the cubist left, stable center, sparse right. Strong verticals and horizontals, good balance. That apparition in the top left.
The Rape of the Sabines- Intense, horrifying, the woman flattened by the grinning horse. The idiotic, anonymous, small rider- makes me think of the petty sameness of a conquering soldier, just an asshole with the better weapon and sufficient cruelty to use it.
Reclining nudes, a go to. I like Reclining Nude with Flower Wreath. Lovely face, and that hideous fried face- a picture in her room? a mirror? I also like the cartoony strangeness of Reclining Nude (Nov 1 1969). Seated Woman, Left Profile- very excited by the face of this one. Such a cool and eerie effect, divided, unified, inward, outward. Reclining Woman Reading conveys a charming, easy leisure, almost comical. It could play in the New Yorker.
The Kiss- Looks like a classical homage, a Spanish nobleman, a young Romeo. The arm, the combined faces, the breasts- similar shapes. Woman Playing With a Small Cat- love it. Three Figures looks like a romantic tangle of some sort- an unexpected guest, an elephant in the room, a new and awkward bedroom configuration. The aftermath of an imperfect menage a trois. The Kiss- another one. I love the broad brushstrokes, and the way the figures connect. The attitude of the figures is a little unsettling- the man seems into it, the woman repulsed. Considering how much older the man looks- this could be a criminal scene.
Final thoughts: An extraordinary demonstration of his talents. Picasso really could be compelling, beautiful, scary, hilarious, in any style and with no color necessary. I did not expect to like this exhibit too much, I’m a huge sucker for color (I suppose my eye is weak, as Picasso would allege) but he makes it work. And it’s particularly intriguing to get to see this exhibit in tandem with Kandinsky, at the peak of his interest in color theory. Picasso is Jordan. That’s that.
Kandinsky, 1911-1913.
A small, intimate exhibit, mostly work I’ve seen before (but always worth seeing again)… discusses Der Blaue Reiter, the simpatico interests and values of Kandinsky and Franz Marc. I want to remember, reconsider Kandinsky’s different values that he assigned to shapes and colors. (per Marc, yellow is feminine, blue masculine.)
Lion Hunt and Sancta Francisca- beautiful tiny pieces. Oil on glass. Beautiful color; whimsical. Recognizable forms.
Franz Marc died “1916, Verdun, France.” Always weird to comprehend. Such a profoundly disruptive event.
The Yellow Cow- I’ve always enjoyed the dreamy curve of the cow’s figure.
Der Blaue Reiter- “united by a common interest in the Expressionist potential of color, symbolic associations, and (for Marc and Kandinsky) spiritual values.” I want to read Kandinsky’s book- On the Spiritual in Art- and Painting in Particular. It’s on display here. Cool sentence- “In the hierarchy of colors, green is the ‘bourgeoisie,’ self satisfied, immovable, narrow. It is the color of summer, the period when nature is resting from the storms of winter and the productive energy of spring.” It is neither warm nor cool, it’s calm- natural- regenerative, but boring and unchallenging over time.
Lovely Kandinskys on display- Landscape with Rain, Improvisation 28 (Second Version)- which looks like a stormier landscape with rain; and Small Pleasures, which is especially pretty. Looks like musicians jamming atop a pyschedelic hill. In this order they make me think of ‘the Stages of Empire,’ painted by a spiritual hipster madman. Love ‘em.
Cool little exhibit, I wish there was more. I should look up the Kandinsky exhibit I saw here once upon a time.
Gabriel Orozco, Asterisms.
Very pretty, I like it. Often I’m suspicious of appropriation, but the archaeological aspect- and the aesthetically pleasing effort of color and shape organization- really draws me in. It fascinates me to think that each of these objects had a use. Each object had a purpose, a use, and a user. There are human lives tied to this piece, woven into it, and they’ll never know they were a part of it.
PICASSO: Black and White.
Picasso believed that “color weakens”- “he purged it from his work in order to highlight the formal structure and autonomy of form inherent in his art.” This is the first exhibition devoted to his use of black and white.
SECTION 1: He had his Blue period- themes of poverty and loneliness- after the death of his friend Carlos Casanegas in 1901. His Rose period began in 1905, after he settled in Paris and met his companion, Fernande Olivier. Les Demoiselles d’Avignon was completed in 1907- this set off a period, continuing up until the Great War, in which he engaged in a cubist pictorial dialogue with Braque. In the wake of that war, and with the birth of his son Paulo in 1921, Picasso turned to neoclassical figurative painting, portraits of mothers & children, lovers. His muted palette in this phase also alludes to the classical sculpture and painting he encountered in Rome, Naples and Pompeii.
The exhibit opens with Woman Ironing, one of the last major Blue Period canvasses. That sharp elbow, that tender, slim smile.
I love his sculptures, his busts. What a bold take on the works of antiquity- Bust of a Woman (Marie-Therese) '31, Head of a Woman (Dora) '41, Head of a Woman, Left Profile (Marie Therese)'31. Extraordinary pieces. Beautiful and also a little horrifying. Reverential and countercultural. Seeing his themes in 3D somehow makes the shock of them, the contradictions, more visceral.
Cubist pieces, some primitive figures- cubist portraiture. A dark, pained vibe. Shocking their time. Head of a Man (1908)- pitch black tears. Incredibly desolate.
Bottle and Wine Glass- love the newspaper element. The ad for the Gramophone within the clipping, combining art forms. The aged nature of wine and the disposable nature of news, a witty pairing. I think of old newspaper a lot when I think of '20s art; collage. I wonder what they were going for- perhaps a statement about the aggressive immediacy and modernity of their work, or a sly joke about the contradiction of what’s essential today and disposable tomorrow. Maybe it speaks to mass-production, or an effort to combine media streams, or to mock established orders, subjugate old media to new. Maybe it’s a commentary on how the urgencies of the times holds art hostage; and how art can strike back. Perhaps, being a history fan, it hits me more than it hit them; perhaps that’s the point.
Accordionist- arriving now at the 'Picasso or Braque?' phase. A cool work.
Seated Nude, winter 22-23. This is more how I think of his neoclassical pieces (than the following works.) That reflection in the mirror makes the whole work. So beautiful. The sweet dreamy melancholy of a young girl.
Man with Pipe- excellent. Olga in a Fur Collar, The Artist’s Wife (Portrait of Olga Khokhlova)- really magnificent. Picasso could paint in any way, any style. The fur coat piece is especially lovely- looks like Greta Gerwig to me. I have never seen any Picasso that looks quite like this. Beginning of the ‘20s. I knew he turned neoclassical after the war; didn’t realize those pieces got quite this realistic or clean, elegant. Thought they were more Romanesque, a touch cartoonier. But no, he can do it all.
SECTION 2: Picasso went into the ‘20s still interested in serene, neoclassical portraits. In 1927 he met Marie-Therese Walter, a chance encounter that flowered into a passionate relationship and inspired an extraordinary group of works, “a new visual language inspired by her curvaceous form.” In the mid twenties, he shifted away from neoclassical portraits and towards surrealism, distortion, organic forms- and The Milliners Workshop, with its curves, marks a breakthrough in that direction.
The Lovers- what a piece. Looks like it was made in Brooklyn last year. Nope! France ‘23. Such a subtle and varied background. Clean, intimate, realistic figures. Understated. Very pretty.
Bust of a Woman, Arms Raised- a classic. so beautiful. so tender. magnificently conceived.
Woman in White- A classic.
The Milliners Workshop- Sexy, dark. Looks like the audience in a dark cafe while (that famous picasso 3-piece band) plays. Seems somehow sad and dark- maybe a story of oppressive labor. The figure on the right- the boss coming through the door? Always watching…
Arabesque Woman- rolling lines, voluptuous shape, ambiguous figure. I like it. I Love these- Acrobat (1-9-30), Woman Acrobat (1-19-30), Female Bust and Profile on Gray and White Ground. So whimsical and strange and imaginative. The Acrobats fill the canvas at surprising angles. the central piece, evocative and idiotic at the same time, like a parody cologne ad. I really love it. Figure (1928)- so peculiar. I'm all about it. This is the stuff that really delights me, the whimsical, surprising, cartoony stuff. Standing Woman (summer '27) is absolutely delightful. Clean white background, clean black lines, she looks like a puppet N. Some parts discernable, others ambiguous. A naked turtle. Simply terrific.
SECTION 3: Very much influenced by Marie-Therese Walter. Picasso loved her youthful vitality, athletic physique, and love for swimming. She was his Muse and subject in this period (late 20s to mid 30s, pre-Guernica). Mostly sparse works on display here, though some of the pieces (Boats & Figures, Swimming Woman) hint at the themes and possibilities that erupt with Guernica.
Bust of a Woman- very pretty, more completely painted than the others. Overall this is a pretty, tender, reflective section. Sleeping Woman- beautiful. Only one piece at a time in this section- really makes the viewing experience meditative, tender. Head of a Woman, Right Profile (Marie-Therese)- an exceptionally beautiful and dashing piece. Romantic in that dreamy sentimental 19th century way. I love it. Marie-Therese, Face and Profile- Like the moon. fantastic. Marie-Therese, Pensive- love it. Love the texture of this one. This lady inspired some real beauties- would love to see a photo of her.
My goodness, Woman With Flower Writing- so clean, graceful, simple, intimate. Absolutely love it. Swimming Woman- horrifying, Dali-esque. But picturing her in motion, breaking the waves, truly adds a lot of energy to the piece- the title makes it leap a level, makes it dynamic, brave, exciting, when my first instinct was terror. Makes me think of how the body in intense athletic motion, watched in slo-mo, is fantastically ugly. Compelling piece.
Boat & Figures, cool drawing. A story of doomed poverty, really- the lazy, shiftless fisher.
I Love these: Woman With Joined Hands (Marie-Therese), the dainty, spiderlike, Gahan Wilson/Egon Schiele vibe of Portrait of Nusch Eluard, the dreamy, strangely real look of Woman (Ines Sassier) and Child. This piece reminds me of a realistic, humanized drawing of the Simpsons or somesuch. The butterfly in transition, between the human realm and Picasso.
Marie-Therese Walter committed suicide a few years after Picasso died. What a fascinating moral quandary- he immortalized her, made her beautiful, but also probably warped her world and fucked with her in some terrible ways too. He essentially squeezed the life force out of her like a sponge, and I don’t know much about how it affected her- I’d assume poorly- but what he squeezed of her on the canvas is immortal, beautiful, bigger than the individual or the pair. Her life vs. her life in his hands, which did she get to live? I'd like to see a movie about her.
SECTION 4: A bleak and dangerous time. His new love Dora Maar influenced some of his work. The misery of occupation did, too. Much of this section is devoted to sketches for Guernica. He completed 45 sketches for that piece- I can't imagine doing Anything 45 times before I make the 'official' work. Hard work. That's what makes the greats.
Woman Asleep at a Table- hip.
Composition Study, Sketch for Guernica- clean, beautiful little piece. Clean lines. The gentle face of the dead. The stoic, maybe sinister bull.
Mother with Dead Child II- Postscript to Guernica. Haunting, astonishing work. Man, the vivid nightmare face of the woman. Everything else except for that visceral, terrible shock fades into the background- time stops, only sheer terror and agony lives in that moment.
Man, I love his faces. Man With Ice Cream Cone is one of Picasso’s archetypal faces, the farmer. I’d love to see a list of Picasso’s facial archetypes. Farmer, Minotaur, Harlequin, Roman woman. I love the pretty and ugly complexity of Little Girl with a Pacifier Under a Chair.
Love the eerie midnight Dark Gray Face with White Hat- the glow on the face and the corner box implies, to the modern eye, a creature watching weird TV or conducting distasteful internet discourse. Head of a Woman (4-27-44) looks like an art student sketched an Easter Island site. I’d call Bust of a Woman on Gray Ground “Portrait of a Jerk.” Still Life with Blood Sausage- Creepy. Looks like stuff that Mr. White Hat would own.
SECTION 5: In this phase, Picasso’s primary motives and purposes: reacting against war, paying homage to the old masters, euologizing his friends, celebrating beautiful women.
Horned Head II- simple, cartoony, but a little grim, a little naked. sad. I like it.
The Charnel House- evocative of WW2. Looks like Guernica. Skull- dark, horrifying. Picasso was in occupied Paris during the war- didn’t realize.
Sylvette- a lovely, charming, quaint work. A slim and delicate lady, more angular, less curvaceous than I usually expect of Picasso. Woman Seated in an Armchair- very exciting. I love it. Clean lines, light strokes, the face curving in on itself. The Kitchen- looks like a weird, playful blueprint- precise, clockwork, indecipherable, alien. Faces in there? Whimsical, simple. More abstract, less figural than his usual. It almost seems like an unlabeled Rube Goldberg machine.
The Maids of Honor- (Las Meninas, after Velazquez)- Beautiful parlor room piece. Magnificent. Usually in Barcelona- wonder if JD ever saw it. You could divide it cleanly into six and you’d have six distinct and beautiful works. I wanna look at it, think about it more- the cubist left, stable center, sparse right. Strong verticals and horizontals, good balance. That apparition in the top left.
The Rape of the Sabines- Intense, horrifying, the woman flattened by the grinning horse. The idiotic, anonymous, small rider- makes me think of the petty sameness of a conquering soldier, just an asshole with the better weapon and sufficient cruelty to use it.
Reclining nudes, a go to. I like Reclining Nude with Flower Wreath. Lovely face, and that hideous fried face- a picture in her room? a mirror? I also like the cartoony strangeness of Reclining Nude (Nov 1 1969). Seated Woman, Left Profile- very excited by the face of this one. Such a cool and eerie effect, divided, unified, inward, outward. Reclining Woman Reading conveys a charming, easy leisure, almost comical. It could play in the New Yorker.
The Kiss- Looks like a classical homage, a Spanish nobleman, a young Romeo. The arm, the combined faces, the breasts- similar shapes. Woman Playing With a Small Cat- love it. Three Figures looks like a romantic tangle of some sort- an unexpected guest, an elephant in the room, a new and awkward bedroom configuration. The aftermath of an imperfect menage a trois. The Kiss- another one. I love the broad brushstrokes, and the way the figures connect. The attitude of the figures is a little unsettling- the man seems into it, the woman repulsed. Considering how much older the man looks- this could be a criminal scene.
Final thoughts: An extraordinary demonstration of his talents. Picasso really could be compelling, beautiful, scary, hilarious, in any style and with no color necessary. I did not expect to like this exhibit too much, I’m a huge sucker for color (I suppose my eye is weak, as Picasso would allege) but he makes it work. And it’s particularly intriguing to get to see this exhibit in tandem with Kandinsky, at the peak of his interest in color theory. Picasso is Jordan. That’s that.
Kandinsky, 1911-1913.
A small, intimate exhibit, mostly work I’ve seen before (but always worth seeing again)… discusses Der Blaue Reiter, the simpatico interests and values of Kandinsky and Franz Marc. I want to remember, reconsider Kandinsky’s different values that he assigned to shapes and colors. (per Marc, yellow is feminine, blue masculine.)
Lion Hunt and Sancta Francisca- beautiful tiny pieces. Oil on glass. Beautiful color; whimsical. Recognizable forms.
Franz Marc died “1916, Verdun, France.” Always weird to comprehend. Such a profoundly disruptive event.
The Yellow Cow- I’ve always enjoyed the dreamy curve of the cow’s figure.
Der Blaue Reiter- “united by a common interest in the Expressionist potential of color, symbolic associations, and (for Marc and Kandinsky) spiritual values.” I want to read Kandinsky’s book- On the Spiritual in Art- and Painting in Particular. It’s on display here. Cool sentence- “In the hierarchy of colors, green is the ‘bourgeoisie,’ self satisfied, immovable, narrow. It is the color of summer, the period when nature is resting from the storms of winter and the productive energy of spring.” It is neither warm nor cool, it’s calm- natural- regenerative, but boring and unchallenging over time.
Lovely Kandinskys on display- Landscape with Rain, Improvisation 28 (Second Version)- which looks like a stormier landscape with rain; and Small Pleasures, which is especially pretty. Looks like musicians jamming atop a pyschedelic hill. In this order they make me think of ‘the Stages of Empire,’ painted by a spiritual hipster madman. Love ‘em.
Cool little exhibit, I wish there was more. I should look up the Kandinsky exhibit I saw here once upon a time.
Gabriel Orozco, Asterisms.
Very pretty, I like it. Often I’m suspicious of appropriation, but the archaeological aspect- and the aesthetically pleasing effort of color and shape organization- really draws me in. It fascinates me to think that each of these objects had a use. Each object had a purpose, a use, and a user. There are human lives tied to this piece, woven into it, and they’ll never know they were a part of it.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
album #53
lp (ambulance ltd)
I dig this album- dreamy, slightly psychadelic pop. I imagine it all taking place in a green and blue room, light filtered through smoky shadows. Except for the tracks that are pure sunshine and salesmanship, like "Anecdote." There's an ambient vibe to this record; if Pulp Fiction was a little more aquatic or a little sweeter, this could make a good soundtrack- touches of noir and now and then, the southwest.
Several pop gems- the dark sneer of "Primitive," the plucky sunny "Anecdote," the anthemic "Heavy Lifting," and my two favorite tracks: the low easy amble, perfectly accentuated by a sweet guitar sigh, of "Young Urban," and the driven, pretty, sad slacker jewel "Stay Where You Are."
My main critique- sometimes they spend excessive time in their underwater jams, either waiting to get somewhere good or lingering after a great song has already finished. A few times I've had to make radio edits, particularly to trim the fat from my two favorite tracks. That dreamy, smoky ambience now and then just feels like killing time.
This might be an interesting band to read about- wikipedia indicates that they've had a somewhat turbulent existence, with every member leaving to form a new band except the lead singer, and then their record label is going under, and the leader of the group seems a little bit lost- one of those creative people who might be, this is a harsh judgment to make of a guy I'm just starting to learn about, but there's a vibe of laziness, of passive disappointment in the face of decline. Christ, it's actually pretty sad. Man. Well hey, good music, good music. Contracts… what terrible things. Don't get the law involved, just live and make.
I dig this album- dreamy, slightly psychadelic pop. I imagine it all taking place in a green and blue room, light filtered through smoky shadows. Except for the tracks that are pure sunshine and salesmanship, like "Anecdote." There's an ambient vibe to this record; if Pulp Fiction was a little more aquatic or a little sweeter, this could make a good soundtrack- touches of noir and now and then, the southwest.
Several pop gems- the dark sneer of "Primitive," the plucky sunny "Anecdote," the anthemic "Heavy Lifting," and my two favorite tracks: the low easy amble, perfectly accentuated by a sweet guitar sigh, of "Young Urban," and the driven, pretty, sad slacker jewel "Stay Where You Are."
My main critique- sometimes they spend excessive time in their underwater jams, either waiting to get somewhere good or lingering after a great song has already finished. A few times I've had to make radio edits, particularly to trim the fat from my two favorite tracks. That dreamy, smoky ambience now and then just feels like killing time.
This might be an interesting band to read about- wikipedia indicates that they've had a somewhat turbulent existence, with every member leaving to form a new band except the lead singer, and then their record label is going under, and the leader of the group seems a little bit lost- one of those creative people who might be, this is a harsh judgment to make of a guy I'm just starting to learn about, but there's a vibe of laziness, of passive disappointment in the face of decline. Christ, it's actually pretty sad. Man. Well hey, good music, good music. Contracts… what terrible things. Don't get the law involved, just live and make.
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