Social context and 2 works of art

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I was going to post about this doll, since I had similar story dolls (Wolf/Red Riding Hood, not Black/White) when I was a kid.  Also the narrative here seems so strongly one of our national context in the mid 19th c.  We could also put it into the context of art/kitsch that is part of our current blog conversation.  A (semi) mass produced doll, made to be played with not preserved.  But toys/low art have an important role in defining our lives: "The story is that these were made by black women working for white families, and which head was shown would depend on the race of any adult who was in the room" according to the curator.  Interestingly, the black doll in the case shown is nowhere near as exaggeratedly featured as some of the very racist kitsch of the day; we might think about how the work was made by blacks for white consumption as a subtle anti-bigotry influence on the children of the Civil War generations.  Now, what was cheap, low-culture, semi-disposable has become expensive art.

Metropolitan Museum, early 9th c. carved teak panel

This was on my art of the day feed from the Met.  Many of you might recognize it as a Jewish star.  What's complicated here is that the panel is an Islamic work, from Iraq (Baghdad or Takrit), in the early 800s.  I think it's an excellent reminder of what Islam was at that point--defining itself in relation to other monotheistic traditions of the time, where Islam came from--the image of the hexagram can also be seen in Jewish art of the 3rd or 4th century and Roman mosaics from as early as the 2nd c. BCE, and what Baghdad was--a thriving community in the ruins of the Sassanian Empire, in conflict with the Byzantines, a cosmopolitan city with Muslims, Jews, Christians of several different varieties, and a few pagans.  As an ornament, the hexagram is a lovely image of interlaced balance, fitting as a statement of God in any of these three monotheistic traditions and therefore appearing in all.  (And by the way, also in several Eastern religious traditions).

The story is that they were made by black women working for white families, and which head was shown would depend on the race of any adults in the room, said Stamps, who is African-American.

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Ring Dem Bells

Martin Creed, winner of the Turner Prize in 2005 for a conceptual work of the lights turning on and off in an empty gallery, devised a piece called "Work No. 1197, All The Bells In A Country Rung As Quickly And Loudly As Possible For Three Minutes" for the opening of the Olympics.

You can read about it here.  You can hear it here.

I loved the idea of it--as many people as possible ringing bells in participation.  Ringing in the celebration of the Olympics.  Bells are potently associated with England--John Donne poem, The Great Bells of Bow (bells and poem), carillons, change ringing, Westminster chimes.  I think the participatory aspect is awesome. 

Make a joyful noise.

Bizarre Kitsch

I am simultaneously intrigued and appalled by things like this:

Laura Bell, Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper, dryer lint, 2011(?) 
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Ripley's Believe It or Not! Museum has acquired this piece.  It joins their collection of Last Supper works on a grain of rice, on a dime, and made from burnt toast. 

It was not the Last Supper that inspired her so much as another dryer lint work.  The urge to make something significant out of something insignificant.  I also found it compelling to consider the work she put in to her art: purchasing the right towels to get the colors she wanted, 700-800 hours of laundry, 200 hours of assembly.  There's certainly no question that she was attentive to the process of her art as much as any other fabric artist (the crochet artist Olek or quilter Sue Reno).

But there's no question, in my mind, that it is kitsch.  It is a sentimentalized view of the Last Supper.  It remakes an iconic image in superficial form.  It derives its value solely from the novelty of its material.


We are a strange species. We take what we are moved by and remake it--to possess it.  Where art breaks new ground of understanding--and this is undoubtedly what Leonardo was doing in his composition by creating a human/Humanist moment of the spiritual moment--kitsch revisits old paths of understanding.  It traces old lines, old interpretations.  And I think there's no question that as a culture, we NEED kitsch.  It fills the mind just as easy starches fill the belly; we're emotionally drawn to these in the same way salt/sugar/grease became (an American?) biological imperative.  But if you cannot live on Pringles (which are made from potato slurry, which makes them the kitsch of the snack food world); you need complex proteins and salads made from fresh greens too.

When Renee Cox looks at the Last Supper,

there's a host of other issues being explored--the physical embodiment of Christ and the identity of that Body for the faithful, the consumption of bodies (especially gendered female bodies in both the sexualized gaze and pregnancy), the role of women in the Catholic/mainstream Christian denominations, the discussion/avoidance of race in religious context and modern culture.  It ain't just lint.

Interesting Artist for Friday

Today's artist is Sayaka Ganz.  You can check out her work here. 

Running Cat ("Fogo"), image from The Telegraph


What I find compelling is the way in which she uses materials that are discarded and sees them in new combinations.  In her artist's statement, she expresses the idea that these objects have a spirit, a history.  "I was taught in kindergarten that objects that are discarded before their time weep at night inside the trash bin."  I'm not a tremendous fan of the standard readymade--I tend to think that once you've looked at the object not as a urinal but as a fountain or the bottle rack as a sculpture--there's a limit to where the discussion goes.  Yes, you can talk about design, about lines, color, shape, material.  Marcel Duchamp started it off by getting us to think about the transgressive nature of all objects, that anything CAN be art; it's a tremendously powerful message for modern and contemporary art (and one which restructures the modern idea of WHAT IS ART?).  But I'm looking for ways that this dialogue can go further.  I think Sayaka Ganz has a strong message of beauty and structure in the creation of these works that strengthens that message of reuse/reimagining of the old object.

Book review: Framed by Frank Cottrell Boyce

In general, I liked this book but for the dynamics of this tiny Welsh town more than the writing about art, stored there when London faces terrible floods (a modern riff on the WWII evacuation of art from London).  Also liked the movie made from Boyce's book, Millions, which is what prompted me to pick up this one.

Without ruining the plot of the book, Boyce is arguing for the transformative power of art and its effect on the human soul.  There we are certainly agreed.  But Boyce has a terribly hard job: he needs to write about the power of the art but also preserve the voice of the 9 yr old protagonist through whom we see the art.  This is really difficult. 

The first piece Boyle writes about is the Manchester Madonna, by Michelangelo, ca. 1497.  The boy starts:

It was a picture, a picture of a woman trying to read a book.  The woman's face was in colour, but her clothes were in black and white and the top of her head was missing.  The most random thing though was that one of her boobies was sticking out of her dress, like you sometimes see on the front of the papers... (78)

 The art historian character provides the through-line of 'more sophisticated' opinion/knowledge about art: After discussing tempera, he says

As you can see the painting is unfinished.  The Madonna's clothes...' Madonna again. '...are blocked out in black, but one assumes they were going to be painted blue.  Somehow it adds to the drama.  As if the master was in such a hurry to capture the perfection of this girl's face, he couldn't wait for the paint to arrive. He knew that if he waited one morning, her beauty might have begun to fade.  Isn't that what Art is about?  Rescuing Beauty from the ravages of Time.  To save one moment from eternal silence. (79)

I get it--the point is to create a moment out of this experience, the dissonance of experience that then leads the boy to look up Michelangelo and the Madonna (as opposed to Madonna).  But there's more to the work than just the Madonna (and the parallels made to the Madonna in the Pieta of 1498-99 are unavoidable for me and unmentioned by Boyce).  It's as if Boyce fears that knowing more about the work will make it a lecture and take the magic out of the "moment".  So we can't talk about the muscular bodies, the twisting limbs, the gaze of the John the Baptist child.  We can't look at the pink reds and the shading that creates a welter of three dimensional folds.  We can't talk about the way Michelangelo thought of himself as a sculptor, even in paint, and how that comes out in technique. 

Dylan, the boy, says:

I know it sounds daft now, but it was only when he said that that I realized it was a painting.  It looked so real, even though it didn't look like a photograph. (79)

I have talked with actual 9 year olds about art.  They grasp--especially in person--that paint is different from photography.  They can tell you about lines and they notice details.  Sometimes Boyce's writing about the works feels as if he has only experienced them digitally or through books.  There isn't a feel of standing in front of the work (though he tries somewhat harder with the National Gallery's Sunflowers, by Van Gogh, which is the climax of the art discussion).

I don't want to make it sound like I didn't enjoy the book or the art or believe that art enriches our lives, which is at the center of Boyce's book.  I just want to point out how difficult it is to write about the transformative, spiritual nature in a way that conveys it to the reader.  But while "Tickets to London and the National Gallery in every book!" might sell copies, I doubt it would be feasible...

What's it worth?

One of the questions that always comes up when I'm teaching, especially when I show lovely gold things like this Mycenaean death mask

So-called Mask of Agammemnon, Mycenaean, ca. 1500 BCE, gold

is "what is it worth?".  The answer is obviously more complicated than "it weighs 6 ounces and gold is $1591.15 today so $9546.45."  That's the material cost.  Doesn't count artist's hours.  And since we can't pay the artist in this case, we're paying the associated costs: excavation costs, finder's fees, importation taxes, shipping and handling, restoration/conservation, insurance, dealer costs, etc. etc.

But the real truth is--Art is worth whatever some schmuck (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) will pay for it.  Because what you can't value is the connection that makes the work speak to the individual in the first place.  Arthur Evans and Heinrich Schliemann went looking for the actual sites because the Classical literature moved their hearts to belief.  I find the subsequent history of this piece particularly compelling since it was substantially changed to make it fit conceptual expectations of the death mask (which if you're interested, see this article by Kenneth Lapatin, who oversaw my MA thesis at BU).  There's age and rarity to factor in as well.

The reason this has come up is that a top story on GoogleNews today was that Bonnie and Clyde's guns were going up for sale; the expected sale could be anywhere between $100,000 and $200,000 but an expert quoted said "But really the sky is the limit for these types of guns."  What makes their value?  Is it just the artifact?  Clearly not.  If I wanted to buy a gun like Bonnie's Colt .38 caliber (of similar age) I could pick one up for a couple of thousands.  I don't want a gun like Bonnie's.  Even if I had a disposable sum for investment in an artifact.  There is no mystique for me in Bonnie and Clyde's early 30s robberies and murders against the national landscape of the Great Depression, illicit sex, dramatic end.  Makes a good story (against the realities of what that life must have been in reality--broken marriages, loneliness, failed jobs, the reality of murders, poverty between jobs).  These guns have the additional provenance of being their last guns--taken off of their dead bodies after the shootout in Louisiana in 1934.  Does the victory of lawfulness add to their value?  The bittersweetness of romanticized love and lawlessness coming to a tragic end? 

Depends on the schmuck with the checkbook, right?

Lego Bridge

Take a look!
This is what we should be doing.  Cities should be beautiful and fun.  Whimsy is a plus. 
It also takes so little to think about the aesthetics when one is adding to the design in the first place.  Concrete is easy to texture and to add to the surface with stones, added materials, paint.  It doesn't add a lot of money either, in terms of "payback".

Agreeing with David Brooks

It's not what I intended the first post of this blog to be but this is part of my story and what came up this morning.

Boy, it is not often that I agree with David Brooks of the New York Times.  But I suppose that this time I am REALLY agreeing with his reading of Robert Putnam's research on the "Requiem for the American Dream: Unequal Opportunity in America".  For Brooks' column: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/10/opinion/brooks-the-opportunity-gap.html?src=me&ref=general

What Brooks writes is: "Decades ago, college-graduate parents and high-school-graduate parents invested similarly in their children. Recently, more affluent parents have invested much more in their children’s futures while less affluent parents have not."

College educated parents are spending more time reading to their children, going to games, etc.  College educated parents (make more money so) spend more money on their children for opportunities like summer camp and sports and books and and and.

Robert Putnam: “It’s perfectly understandable that kids from working-class backgrounds have become cynical and even paranoid, for virtually all our major social institutions have failed them — family, friends, church, school and community.”
David Brooks: "As a result, poorer kids are less likely to participate in voluntary service work that might give them a sense of purpose and responsibility. Their test scores are lagging. Their opportunities are more limited."

Now Brooks can't resist putting in a dig at the decay of marriage and family that he sees in the poor.  His story further suggests that tax credits can help solve the money gap.  There we cannot agree.  But I value the story we share at the beginning: all kids need the world expanding opportunities that are open to the rich kids in America.  We all need the words of plays and poetry and books, the music of symphonies and music lessons, the thrill of whacking a ball and the pump of the blood as we run.  And the absence of those things creates a gap of experience that makes interactions harder between people.  We need, as a nation to make those things happen.

David Brooks: "Political candidates will have to spend less time trying to exploit class divisions and more time trying to remedy them — less time calling their opponents out of touch elitists, and more time coming up with agendas that comprehensively address the problem. It’s politically tough to do that, but the alternative is national suicide."

Welcome!

We all know that Art is not truth.  Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand.  The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.  ~Pablo Picasso

We tell stories about our world and our understanding.  The stories reflect our concerns and fears, our loves and secret desires, our pasts and our futures.  

This blog is my story.  Mostly an opportunity to reflect on the things that concern me as a storyteller: as an art historian, as a teacher, as a liberal Democrat, as an Episcopalian Christian,  as a gardener, as a parent, as a wife.  It isn't necessarily about your stories but I hope as I read and learn from the readers that it will reflect some of your experience and teach me new stories.