You Know What Would Fix that Neckline? A Huge Napkin. I'll Just Tie it Around Your Neck.

No museum day tomorrow, but luckily I have more to think about from last week at the Toledo Museum of Art.

   

1.)                                Portrait of a Young Woman, Horace Vernet, 1831

For me, this painting called Bouguereau to mind, though the sitter is stiffer, more heavily rouged, less lithesome than his mythological figures. The longer I look at her, the more fond I become, though what if she wound up resembling one of Jane Austen's more aggravating characters? Potential character flaws: arrogance, smugness, rigidity. And on what visual basis do I theorize? That she is painted with a direct gaze? As she was most certainly directed. Bahh.

But here we are meant to focus on other aspects of "feminine character." How does she feel about being the embodiment of purity and innocence? Stuffed and bowed, be-ribboned and be-gloved! Even the foliage -- much too aggressive to be called background -- is in on it, being juniper (or chastity, in Victorian flower parlance). DO YOU GET HOW UNBLEMISHED SHE IS, SHE IS A VIRGIN TO THE POWER OF THREE. And they aim to keep her that way until marriage, if the wilty violets indicates her betrothed status, as TMA suggests (Victorian flower dictionary=faithfulness). They are so tiny and limp to indicate something that must be hardy to be of any use, though. Easily dropped and trod underfoot.




2.) But earlier in the day, the first thing I saw after the welcoming Matisse ceramic mural was Paul Manship's charming Dancer and Gazelles on the second floor. The sculptor's "Moods of Time: Evening" knocked my socks off at the DIA a few years ago, so it was refreshing to encounter his work at another museum. {--> see blog post for photos of piece, which was created for the 1939 World's Fair, more on Manship's career}

3.)                                                 BEST FOR LAST
The MOST EXCITING art moment came at the end of the day, in the museum store. I was leafing through a Kehinde Wiley coffee table book when a staff member sidled up to me. He leaned in with a conspiratorial air: "We're getting this exhibit!"

"WHAT, NO!" KEHINDE WILEY. I actually got head chills*.

"I know"

"REALLY??? Like this exact one~"

"YES~~"

"It's locked in, solid~"

"February 2017." He nods, triumphantly before whisking himself away. I felt giddy in the moment, and giddy now, in the typing. I can't really explain the visceral quality to my reaction, but maybe that's unnecessary. I love that Wiley uses traditional European portraiture as a springboard, captures its essence and re-envisions them with African Americans at the center. I love that his painting is masterful, so its technique can not be dismissed. I love that he usually opts for massive scale, so the beauty and strength and dignity of his models are unavoidable. I love that when he reduces the background to a design element, those elements never remain solely in the background, but merge/interact with the subject. I love that he usually collaborates with his subjects and tells them (the guys, at least): "You're going to be in a painting, so wear something you're excited about"

Sleep, 2008, DIA in their "30 Americans" exhibit

Same exhibit

So the exhibit that will be coming to Toledo ("An Economy of Grace") was first shown in Brooklyn, and featured the series of portraits featuring female models. He tracked down models for photoshoots by stopping pedestrians near a shopping district. For this series, he determined he would have Givenchy couture pieces created specifically for them, which initially gave me pause in terms of representation -- so the guys wear their own clothes, and in so doing show more of their personality, i.e. personhood? And the women? Get dressed again, prepared for the artist and viewer's gaze?... But essential to his portraits for both genders is the lifting up, the giving/claiming of dignity that is often denied by the larger culture. And dressing the women in bespoke clothing most certainly speaks to that (Wiley relished the sense of "untouchably beautiful" as conveyed by haute couture). Flip your calendar to 2017, pencil in TMA in February! In the meantime check out the PBS documentary about Wiley's creation of this exhibit.

From the video:

"I always think about the exotic. Sometimes the exotic can be right in front of you, I think that when I watch television, participate in the media culture in America, sometimes the way that I see/have seen black people portrayed in this country feels very strange and exotic, because it has nothing to do with the life that i have lived or people that I've known..." -- Wiley

"[In classic European portraiture] The painting is there to reinforce that sense of belongingness --  for Kehinde's subjects it's the complete opposite. These people were not supposed to be there." -- An art critic within documentary, sorry! watch it and find out...

***

*This weirdness is usually reserved for something which scares the pants off me, or shocks me. I know I *want* to see a horror movie, but absolutely should not see that horror movie, if I watch a trailer and get headchills. Applied when I was 7, applies now. Don't look under the bed and get the hell out of the house. But for an art exhibit? Never.

Manservant, Bring Me My Wine. Is the Dog's Suitcase Packed and at the Ready?

In the spirit of scientific studies that conclude, yes, bullies select unpopular kids as targets and no, meth is still not good for unborn babies, I'd like to begin by saying that why yes, bra shopping is still atrocious and NO I won't be detailing that. Trying on new fuzzy pajamas helped me get past it. They may or may not have little white dogs sitting expectantly on suitcases. But you're probably already aware of my gear -- tonight's writing feels cozier, doesn't it?  Alas, I don't have too much time to write as I need to be getting to bed.

In any case, thought I'd revisit the last outing to the DIA. I *do* wonder if you're like For heaven's sake, how many times is she going to write about that museum?? But there's always something new that catches my eye. And it's usually part of a larger, wonderful day. To wit: this time around, Compatriot and I met for Indian buffet to start. We should have found hammocks afterward, but blithely thought the chai would kick in. Silly us, it was clearly immediately absorbed by all the rice, naan and curried awesome.

So we arrived drowsy and in need of tea. But what a scene we encountered! We knew it would be busy, being one of the last days of the year, but figured the Rembrandt's envisioning of Jesus would take in most of the crowd. We-heelll, no such luck. Called that one wrong. People: everywhere. Children: everywhere. Sweet little separate expedited members line: mysteriously absent.

We looked around in a confused fashion as we were funneled into the slowly shuffling rope maze. But that's the only time I ever get to go in a separate line! One or both of us said to the other. Airport comparisons murmured their way along the line. I thought of the irritating, officious men who are still, after years, affronted at having to take their shoes off; naturally they are wearing nicely buffed shoes with tightly tied laces. Luckily, no one suspected we would be knifing the art; and we eventually made our way. The crowds really didn't thin out in most galleries, but at least this was more of a niffing-around visit than a visit with intent, so we bopped around until we grew weary from visual stimulation and marble floors.

In between, some discoveries...

Moods of Time: Evening, by Paul Manship

This was my absolute favorite piece this time around. We trudged up one set of stairs and boom! There it was! I can't ever remember seeing it before, but how could this be? I must have exclaimed, because a man walking past with a little folding artist's stool said, looking back over his shoulder, "It's one of my favorites!"

I love the composition with its satisfying arc of movement, the rewarding roundness of the cloud bed, the stylized owls. I had never even heard of Paul Manship.

But apparently my ignorance didn't prevent him from having quite a fine, illustrious life before all of us were born. Imagine that! Born in 1885 in St. Paul Minnesota, his artistic schooling included the Institute of Art there and the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts (my Mom went there! I think. Am pretty sure.)
At 23, he became the youngest sculptor to be awarded the American Prix de Rome, which translated into further study at the American Academy in Rome (1909-1912 ). Even though John Singer Sargent was some 30 years older, they eventually became great friends -- he named his only son after the painter (plus his father). Manship was initially a painter, but decided to explore sculpting, due to color blindness. More artist history here.

This sculpture was one of four Manship created for the 1939 World's Fair, all depicting times of day and erected within a reflecting pool in New York City. According to text on The Pygmalian Syndrome Art Gallery's site,

"Time and the Fates Sundial and the four Moods of Time were in many ways Manship’s favorite works. They summed up his obsession with time. He believed that a major purpose of art, especially of art in the classical tradition, was to reconcile the passage of time with permanence. The monumental groups, which were executed in staff (a plaster of Paris compound) for the world’s fair, have been lost; but the working models of various sizes were done in bronze after the war, and they are among Manship’s most ingenious, complex, and inventive works." [Also at above link].

 You can see black and white photos of the sculptures together in the reflecting pool here.

Wikipediasts tell us that Manship created over 700 works during his lifetime, including busts of Teddy Roosevelt, John D. Rockefeller and Robert Frost; a site for the restoration of a Manship work at the United Nations informs readers that at his very first exhibition, he sold all 96 bronze statues shown.

It would be lovely to view outside, wouldn't it?

Bonus Manships

Group of Bears: Patt Hoffman Friedman Memorial Playground

Dancer and Gazelles, 1917 (not at DIA)

Portrait of a Lady, Nicolaes Pickenoy 1630

And then there was "Portrait of a Lady," just inside the entrance to the Dutch paintings. I don't have much to say about it, because what's left to say about a masterpiece? I always like taking a moment there. It's kind of wrong to even have photos of it, because your camera/photoshop/everyone's monitor can do nothing but mess up the exquisite coloring. Whether it's your thing or not, standing before her, you can almost feel the pulse in the veins of her hands, the chill weight of the jewelry, the restraint and comfort of the opulent stomacher. 

 

...And then there was THIS bastard!

 

Seriously. All he does is sit on his little day bed, eating grapes.

His man servant comes and goes, pouring libations. Very nice posture.

 No acknowledgment. Not that he expects any.

 Amassing all manner of vessels and then tidying up and putting them away.

Whew, I love this feature. One of the great interactive spots that the museum rolled out, in line with its huge overhaul a few years back.

A few more assorted museum snaps here.

Otherwise, I'll end with two other things:

Geishas in the Gift Shop

Remember how the Threeorfour and Five got *really* excited about ice bat and I conveyed through K that he had moved into the gingerbread house? Well, I took it one step further and sent them a postcard, ostensibly from ice bat, about eating candy in the house and watching me draw. Would they believe it? Would they suddenly become sensible and pooh-pooh it? Last night I found out that not only were they totally amazed -- but based on the postcard's front, of a Chihuly sculpture in Japan, they have concluded he has TRAVELED TO JAPAN. I had NO IDEA! Perhaps I'll go back to the gift shop. 
  
The night ended back at Zola's.

La Coloniale was quite nice.