Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts

Friday, August 9, 2013

The Art Spirit



Robert Henri
Monhegan Island, Maine
1911

“When the artist is alive in any person, whatever his kind of work may be, he becomes an inventive, searching, daring, self-expressive creature. He becomes interesting to other people. He disturbs, upsets, enlightens, and opens ways for better understanding. Where those who are not artists are trying to close the book, he opens it and shows there are still more pages possible.” 
― Robert Henri, The Art Spirit



Robert Henri
Cumulus Clouds, East River
1901-1902

Robert Henri (American, 1865 - 1929) was an artist, writer, influential teacher and also the organizer and leader of "The Eight", a group of artists who believed that "art should be relevant to contemporary life rather than conform to standards of popular taste".  They became known as "The Ashcan School".  Henri advocated independence for artists and freedom of expression and was committed to integrating art and life, promoting the development of a new realism in 20th Century American Art.  His progressive art and ideas were in fact the link between the academic world of the 19th Century and the landmark 1913 Armory Show in New York City.



Ashcan School artists & friends at John French Sloan's Philadelphia Studio, 1898


"The Ashcan School" first exhibited in New York City in 1908, an exhibit organized by Henri as a reaction against the conservative, prescriptive exhibit policies of the National Academy of Design.  This show was shocking for its time and included artists like John Sloan, William Glackens, Everett Shinn, George Luks, Arthur B. Davies, Ernest Lawson, and Maurice Prendergast, all artists, like Henri, who rebelled against the refined and polished style of American Impressionism and academic realism.  Their works were darker, in subject and in tone and, at the urging of Henri, were painted in "the robust, unfettered, ungenteel spirit of his favorite poet, Walt Whitman, and to be unafraid of offending contemporary taste".  



. . . For once, and more than once, dimly, down to the beach gliding, /Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows, /Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds and sightsafter their sorts, /The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing, /I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair, / Listen'd long and long. . .. . . Where to answering, the sea, /Delaying not, hurrying not, /Whisper'd me through the night, and very plainly before day-break, /Lisp'd to me the low and delicious word DEATH. . .



Walt Whitman, Sea Shore Memories




. . . besides Whitman, Henri's influence at this time in his career were the artists Velasquez, Hals, and Manet, plus his rebellious nature and desire for truth. According to Robert Hughes, he "wanted art to be akin to journalism...he wanted paint to be as real as mud, as the clods of horse-shit and snow, that froze on Broadway in the winter." 


Robert Henri
Snow in New York
1902

Robert Henri first visited Monhegan in 1903, awed by the fundamental, physical character of the island - the sea, the headlands, and the forest.  He and George Bellows, Edward Hopper, and Rockwell Kent helped establish the artist colony there and they produced some of the most iconic images of "Maine".  The experience of the unique natural phenomenon that the island offered must have inspired and complimented their objective for truth and expression in their own work.


Robert Henri
Storm Tide
1903

Robert Henri
Sea and Land (Monhegan Island)
c1909



I admire Henri because he was a teacher who encouraged "creative independence and philosophical anarchism" and he was an artist who never ceased to question his own style and self-expression.  For me, he "opens (the book) and shows there are still more pages possible”, even 100 years later.  I want to be like him, in his work and influence - even in a small way. 



Robert Henri
Bucko O'Malley (Charles)-(Boy with Cap)
1924

"All I can hope to do for you is to incite you to do something for yourself-- to create something. What it is, I can’t guess. I’m eager to see."
- Robert Henri, artist and teacher


. . . must include this final painting:



Robert Henri
Pequot Lighthouse, Connecticut Coast
1902


where I grew up.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Exposed


Super low tides lately.   Giving the world a different look and getting me thinking about, oh, I don't know . . . life - life's ebb and flow.  


An ebbing tide exposes whimsical treasures and enduring granite formations.


Looking Out at Norwood Cove



The Causeway


I think I'm in the low tide of my life.  Low tide inspires a broader consideration of life and structure and offers glimpses full of surprise and awe.  I think this is where I am.  I contemplate more, I observe more, and I feel confirmed and astounded at the same time.  






I can see now what's been there all along and I can identify and acknowledge those pieces of my life:  the joy, adventure, celebration, pride, and wonder.  But also the sadness, the challenges, and regret.  Real life.



Robert Rauschenberg
Untitled
1958




This is an opportunity for me to continue to build from the foundation that my family and I have created. The last 20 years of my life, with marriage, children, and jobs, have been overflowing and overloaded, with troughs and crests, turbulent and joyous.  High tide.  We've improvised and jury-rigged some over the years, just because that's how it works sometimes, but we're left with soundness and resilience. 







Paul Gauguin
At the Black Rocks
1889


With the high tide receded, I'm down to just me now.  I've grown - evolved, but I'm only starting to figure out how.  I'm the same, but I'm different.  I'm careful, but I'm assertive.  I'm adventurous, but I'm informed.  I'm idealistic, but I'm pragmatic.  I'm emotional, but I'm reasonable.  (note to family: I'm nagging, I'm annoying, I'm selfish. I am funny.)  I'm all the things I used to be and more.

I am exposed.

Childe Hassam
Incoming Tide
1919

   
I'm exhaling, and I'm happy.  I'm making choices, I'm taking chances, I'm making mistakes, and I'm doing things that I've always wanted to do.  Because I have time and support and encouragement.    

And I'm grateful that I have what has been with me all along - beautiful whimsical treasures, Mary and Addie, and enduring granite formation, John.  




And I have art.

Paul Cezanne
Rocks at L'Estaque
1882





Thursday, July 18, 2013

Cut-throat Fun

Laurence Stephen Lowry
The Tennis Player
1927

I played singles tennis this morning with a friend.  We hadn't played together in a few years, not because we weren't wanting to, but because it became a conversation instead of committing to a day and time, you know, "Yes, I'd love to play."  "Maybe sometime next week." "Definitely, soon."  "Can't wait."  And then it's the end of the summer.  Oops.  Well, we did it today, we committed, and it was so fun!  So fun that we set a date for next week, same time, same day.  Can't wait.


Max Liebermann
Tennis Game by the Sea
1901

We both agreed that it's easy to forget that there's something special about playing singles - and it's so easy to get sucked into playing doubles, I think because more people play doubles and there are just more doubles games going on.  But singles, for me, leaves me feeling more satisfied on many levels:  I love the personal, physical, and mental challenge; I like hitting lots of balls; the competition; it involves strategy and tactics, forethought and planning, but at the same time just reaction; and the competition.  Did I say that already?


Andre Lhote
Tennis Players 
1912

All the while moving your feet, keeping your eye on the ball, following through, breathing, anticipating . . . laughing, swearing . . .



This is me.
(Associated Press)



This is my opponent.
(Getty Images)

Today was great.  It wasn't so much about winning or losing, yeah, right.  So, OK, she beat me in the first set, but I was leading by two games in the second set when we had to stop (other people were signed up for the court).  To be continued next week.



Me.
(Associated Press)



Her.
(Getty Images)

Another friend, who was watching us, stopped us on our way off the court.  He asked, smiling wryly, "So, was that fun?"  "Ye-ah, it was fun."  "Uh huh, cut-throat fun," he said.

"Yup, cut-throat fun."  

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

My Best of NYC

Joe's
120th & Broadway
(for my morning coffee)





My Train Stop





Metropolitan Opera House
Lincoln Square






Wafels & Dinges
Dante Park








The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Childe Hassam
Celia Thaxter's Garden, Isle of Shoals, Maine
1890


Winslow Homer
Maine Coast
1896


John Singer Sargent
Portrait of Madame X
1883-1884



Riverside Church






Lunch







Henry Moore
Reclining Figure
1965
at Lincoln Center









Hill Country Barbecue Market
Damrosch Park, Lincoln Center


Chopped Barbecue Beef with Cole Slaw





Museum of Modern Art

Henri Matisse
The Red Studio
1911


Paul Cezanne
Pines and Rocks
1897


Pablo Picasso
Girl Before a Mirror
1932


Pablo Picasso
Les Desmoiselles d'Avignon
1907


Jackson Pollock
One:  Number 31, 1950
1950


My Good-bye NYC Dinner
Le Monde
Broadway & 112-113th





(top, clockwise) Heirloom Tomato and Fresh Mozzarella, warmed with Arugula and Balsamic Reduction; la pain et beurre (?); Merguez (N. African lamb sausage) with Mustard Sauce; Pork and Chicken Pate with Cornichons, Toasted Brioche, and Lettuce with Tomato and Vinaigrette: and a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

Bye New York!

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Brooklyn Museum √

Brooklyn Museum  - add to "Done" list.



I arrived in NYC on Saturday and had all day Sunday to do whatever I wanted.  No question about it - Brooklyn Museum.  So I hopped on the 1 Train at 116th and made my way to Brooklyn.


Brooklyn Museum 
The Museum came into view immediately as I reached the top steps leading out from the subway.  It was striking - an incredibly beautiful building.  Awesome, really.  I stopped in my tracks and just said, oh, my . . .", when someone behind me responded, "uh, excuse me, huh?"  Oh right, you don't just stop - on subway stairs . . . in New York . . .  oops.  I took a picture after I let the people get by me.  

I made a plan to focus on mid-19th to mid-20th C. European and American paintings.  Otherwise, trying to see it all is way too overwhelming and I end up feeling defeated.  So, I've learned to pace myself at museums.  (I did so well pacing myself here that after a break in the cafe I treated myself to some Italian Renaissance paintings.)  My plan worked well for the amount of time I had.  I was able to really look and notice and engage, and even do "little inside dances" (see post Up Close and Personal6/11/13when I came upon a "famous" painting, like Edward Hicks' Peaceable Kingdom, c1833-34. 



Marsden Hartley
Evening Storm, Schoodic, Maine No. 2
1942
So, anyway, I was excited to see Marsden Hartley paintings at the museum.  Hartley (1877-1943) was an American Modernist painter who lived and worked in Europe, the American southwest, and New York City, though he was born in Lewiston, Maine, summered in Maine, and painted exclusively in Maine in the last years of his life.  His influences were Cezanne, Matisse, and Picasso, artists he became familiar with during his days of studying and running in New York avant-garde circles; although it was the people and the rugged coast and mountains of Maine that inspired him to create some of his most powerful landscape and figure paintings.


Marsden Hartley
Ghosts of the Forest
1938
"The idea of modernity is but a new attachment of things universal - a fresh relationship to the courses of the sun and to the living swing of the earth - a new fire of affection for the living essence present everywhere." (Marsden Hartley, statement for catalogue of 1914 exhibition)


Marsden Hartley
Gull
1942-1943

The painting below, "Fox Island", is not at the Brooklyn Museum; as a matter of fact it's presently at the Portland Museum of Art.  But I had to include it here because it is so essentially Maine for me.  


Marsden Hartley
Jotham's Island (now Fox), Off Indian Point, Georgetown, Maine
1937