Reflections: Art Day Out and Old Friends

Always take the opportunity, when you can, to let art expose itself to you. Downtown for an "informational interview" yesterday, afterwards I found myself once again in the neighborhood of the divine National Museum of Women in the Arts, where I got to visit a few of my old friends - Alice Neel, Frida Kahlo, Elaine de Kooning, Lee Krasner, et al.

I also took more time with some other, iconic pieces in the New York Avenue mansion, including Ellen Day Hale and Lilla Cabot Perry occupying this cozy niche:

Another is Alice Bailly, whose selfie features a peculiar reflection across the lens of her monocle:

Alice Bailly (Swiss, 1872-1938). Self-Portrait, 1917. 

According to the caption, this side of her face is apparently painted out, "reflecting what may be a dissociation of the artist from her own image--in short, an identity crisis." More likely, IMO, it reflects a real reflection, the movement of light across her face at that moment in time. That is, after all, what cubism and the futurist movement were about, incorporating the third and fourth dimensions on flat 2-D surfaces.

But the greatest pleasure is in welcoming some newer (new to me) sisters now exhibiting in the third floor permanent collection, including these sadly sweet kiddies by Amy Sherald:

Amy Sherald (b. 1973, Columbus, Georgia). They Call Me Redbone But I'd Rather Be Strawberry Shortcake, 2009

Amy Sherald (b. 1973, Columbus, Georgia). It Made Sense...Mostly in Her Mind, 2011. 

The captions were helpful to me here; the flattened style was the result of treating the skin tones in "grayscale" (there is some tint, you can see, even in these very poor reproductions. Sorry). The children are dressed playfully, but their somber and expressionless demeanor illustrates a deep-seated sadness. Still, the bright, primary colors in which they "play" give me a sense of innocent hope for them.

The other piece that captivated me at the museum was this (again, playful) Edwina Sandys bronze in its own stairwell niche:

Edwina Sandys (b. 1938, London, England). Flirtation, 1994.

Edwina Sandys (b. 1938, London, England). Flirtation, 1994.

Edwina Sandys (b. 1938, London, England). Flirtation, 1994.

I don't suppose the fact that I'd just had pears and bananas for breakfast had anything to do with why this piece caught my eye! Face it, who doesn't like flirty, birdlike fruit.

The second floor was closed off for between-exhibitions reconfiguring, so my visit was a little shorter than I would have liked. (And when, oh when, will the Mezzanine Cafe ever serve food? Nary a morsel in any of my visits.)

So over the blocks I go toward the Smithsonian American Art Museum to see what's what, and what was what now was the fabulous Richard Estes exhibit. Speaking of old friends! Estes was among the "superrealists" I covered in my senior year seminar on modern art. That was decades ago, and the man is still working his magic!

Okay, I don't want to go to Copyright Jail, so go here to see an example of what Alice Bailly started with that reflection in her monocle:

https://americanart.si.edu/exhibitions/estes

Bus With Reflection of Flatiron Building (1966-67)

Checkout (2012)

What we see are multiple images, reflected, contorted by other, overlapping realities. In many of the images, people are seen from different angles. The effect of the pictures, though serene in tone, is a taut reminder that we not only see, but are seen by others, whose eyes may see us in twists and turns, fractured and filtered through many surfaces.

Love, hosaa

reflecting on art

P.S. - I still love the old Greyhound Bus Station on New York Avenue. The birds loved it, too:

All photos posted here are by C. G. Wagner. If you use them, credit them, and link back here. Thanks.

Women to Watch: Ringgold, Niffenegger, Hall, DeBuys

Another full arts day yesterday, courtesy of National Museum of Women in the Arts's current exhibitions (closing November 10) and the Shakespeare Theatre Company's Measure for Measure (closing today - sorry).

At NMWA, the juxtaposition of Faith Ringgold's stark, political work against the tumultuous dreams uncovered by Audrey Niffenegger (best known as the author of The Time Traveler's Wife) was startling and fresh.

detail: Faith Ringgold, American People Series #1: Between Friends, 1963; Collection Friends of the Neuberger Museum of Art, Purchase College, State University of New York - See more at: NMWA

The Time Traveler's Wife, original cover art by Audrey Niffenegger, via Tower Books

We see two different female points of view - one outer directed but filtered through an individual's journey into the world. A quote by Ringgold on her early portraits was shaking: She said that, in art school, no one could teach her how to paint black skin, so she had to invent a process of mixing black into colors, creating a rich, graphic style.

In Niffenegger's self-portraits, there are unsettling images and ideas of a woman being defined and controlled by a man, a lover who chops her hair off because it displeases him. It is little wonder that her dreamscapes become intertwined with what look like death wishes, skeletons lurking within and among the female forms.

Audrey Niffenegger, Observation (detail), 2010; Collection of Larry and Laura Gerber, Highland Park, Illinois - See more at: NMWA

Niffenegger's lighter dreamscapes are epitomized in the delightful fantasy book, Raven Girl, which was not available as promised in the museum shop.

Raven Girl, original cover art by Audrey Niffenegger, via Amazon.com

And so on over to STC for Measure for Measure, for a Meetup event with a few of the same folks I got to share Henry V with over at Folger last season.

Just as Ringgold and Niffenegger demonstrate two approaches to art--external, loud, in your face versus internal, solemnly despairing, reflective--we find in Measure two different approaches to being a successful actress on stage in the work.

This Measure gives us, in the lead, Gretchen Hall as Isabella, the strong, wise, moral heroine, and Katie deBuys, melting unrecognizably into a minor part (Juliet, the beloved of Isabella's brother).

Gretchen Hall, via About the Artists

Katie deBuys, via About the Artists

You may notice right away that this Isabella is not the one portrayed in the poster art, nor included in the rehearsal photos on Facebook. Gretchen lists "standby" for this production as her most recent credit. But this 5'10" stunning redhead (a lookalike for a young Rebecca de Mornay), made her mark for me in the recent ReDiscovery Series reading of Rutherford and Son. Her character was the strong, moral woman standing up against dominating, immoral man. Both Gretchen and her characters are memorable in every way.

Katie is different. The fact that our Meetup gang did NOT recognize her in what is a tertiary role is a testament to her craft. Just as astonished as we all were that the same actress could be both the mesmerizing and playful Katherine of France and the young boy, just a soldier under Henry, here again, she astonishes, turning herself inside out to be who she needs to be.

"Meeting" these four women artists at once validates all our points of view, our approaches to life. Some of us speak out, shout, get noticed, seen, heard. Some of us reflect and project, melt meaningfully into our worlds, work with the tools we are given--our spirits, minds, and souls.

Love, hosaa

just juxtaposing

Catch-up and Updates

Gee, whatever happened to December? Below the fold is my Holiday/Christmas letter to the family.

Somehow I missed posting my recap of Round House Theatre's Pride and Prejudice. It was great fun, despite the Washington Post's predictably negative review. It was set in a whimsical toy box whose trim cabinets reveal changes of scenery that, except for the decor in the interiors, weren't all that different. The ladies also wore strikingly similar gowns (my friend thought they looked too much like nightgowns), making some of the characters hard to distinguish. (Not all sisters are that interchangeable.)

What I really enjoyed was the swift pacing through the domestic and romantic joyrides and the genuine catch of tears brought on by self-awareness when Elizabeth realizes her prejudice against Darcy was unfounded.

I also took another visit to the National Museum of Women in the Arts, with my same Pride and Prejudice friend. It was fun to finally show off some of my favorite venues (RHT and NMWA) with someone else besides my dear readers here!

I got a second chance to snap some of my favorite pieces in the collection:

Four Seated Figures, 2002, by Magdalena Abakanowicz (Polish, b. 1930)

Carrie Pease Graham, 1895, by Elisabet Ney (German, 1833-1907), with Mary Cassatt's Portrait of Katherine Cassatt, 1905, in the background)

Photographs by Louise Dahl-Wolfe (American, 1895-1989)

But in the exhibit of Asian-inspired art, where I fell in love with a new artist, no photography was allowed. Fortunately, there was a book! But unfortunately, I didn't do a very good job of scanning the picture. Anyway, I share with you the lovely work of Lilian May Miller, and her Monet haystacks-inspired Fujiyama:

Moonlight and Sunrise (respectively) at Fujiyama, Japan (both 1928), lovingly photographed from the book Between Two Worlds: The Life and Art of Lilian May Miller by Kendall H. Brown (exhibition catalog published by Pacific Asia Museum, Pasadena, 1998). Note, I bought the book at the NMWA gift shop. It's not available via Amazon, but I found it at Alibris.

Part of the joy of the outing back to NMWA, which happened the day after Thanksgiving, was continuing my chase of the ginkgo. I had been seeing ginkgo leaves throughout Bethesda this fall, but as far as I could find, there were no ginkgo trees in my neighborhood. I knew there were ginkgoes downtown, and sure enough, there they were around Metro Center, their bright yellow fans aglow in the autumn noon.

And finally, just because I like it, the Art Deco (former) bus station on New York Avenue:

All photos by C. G. Wagner. Fair use principles apply: please give credit!

FOLD (below which, my annual holiday letter to the family)

DECEMBER 2011

GREETINGS from the beginning of a cold and damp holiday season! I hope you are warm, snug, and filled with good cheer.

This year found me wandering very little beyond my own neighborhood, and the 10-block walk between apartment and office was my principal means of exercise. Work kept me pretty busy in my new role as editor of THE FUTURIST. In January, I got to meet with the former Haitian ambassador, who brought a small contingent of supporters to our office on the anniversary of the devastating earthquake. They had come to the World Future Society seeking support for rebuilding their nation, which was at that time nervously awaiting a presidential-election runoff. It was humbling to be asked for such support and it helped us to be able to articulate our own mission as an organization.

Another interesting byproduct of my new position was that I was invited to be interviewed for the Grinnell alumni magazine--again, an opportunity to clarify what futurists do and why. (And why I, who am so risk-averse and change-resistant, am somehow the voice of futurism! Hee!)

And if this wasn’t enough “greatness” thrust upon me, I was also asked to take over the leadership of my Shakespeare Readers group! In an effort to increase membership, I’ve reached out to other Shakespeare fans on a MeetUp group and created an official Shakespeare Readers blog: shakespearereaders.blogspot.com.

The only traveling I did this year was—as usual—either work or Clay related. The annual WFS conference was in Vancouver in July, and fortunately I was able to get out and see the neighborhood around our hotel a little bit. It’s a beautiful city, which I hadn’t seen since the World’s Fair in 1986.

The Clay Aiken trip of the year was out to Texas in March, where I got to visit with friends Chris, Debbie, Sheila, Jill, Mary, and Gary, along with an assortment of other ladies I’ve met at other concerts over the years. Much fun!

And yes, I finally did get to meet the man himself, fleetingly, at the meet-and-greet event in Towson, Maryland! With more than 40 fans there, herded along brusquely to get our pictures snapped with Clay, the event was more aptly described as a meet-and-moo. But Clay was in beautiful voice that night and turned the technical mishaps (lighting miscues and strange audio set-up) into high comedy.

Speaking of meet-and-greets, I got to see my favorite jazz singer, Nnenna Freelon, twice this year (well, the first time was New Year’s Eve last year), and also American Ballet Theater featured dancer Daniil Simkin, who had a slightly smaller crowd competing for his attention than Clay did.

I’ve continued to enjoy the productions at Round House and Ford’s theaters and the Strathmore Music Center. A very special outing to Ford’s in April was the rollicking musical Liberty Smith, which was all the more fun for sharing the experience with my brother Mike and sister-in-law Wanda and my cousin Bob and his wife Mary. During their visit we also got to do some “typical tourist” stuff, enjoying the cherry blossoms, museums, memorials, and monuments. And, of course, the D.C. parking challenge.

I spent Thanksgiving with good friends Suzanne and David Waters, who have treated me to so many Sunday dinners that I decided to splurge and take them to one of my favorite “family” restaurants, Ruth’s Chris. Yummo!

My New Year’s resolution is to finally get my apartment into visitor-friendly condition. So ya’ll come on down! (But hey, please call first!)

[End of letter]

I haven't monetized this blog yet, and I receive no royalties, commissions, or kickbacks from anything I mention here. But since I am particularly proud of the photography calendar I made for 2012, I'll include a link to it on Snapfish. You need to have an account at Snapfish to view, but you'll be able to customize and order it if you like:

2012 Calendar: Photography by C. G. Wagner

Maybe next year I'll figure out how to monetize. Till then, enjoy!

Women in the Arts

It was a good day to get out of Bethesda ...

all photos by C. G. Wagner unless otherwise noted

... so I finally got myself downtown to the National Museum of Women in the Arts. I signed up for membership about a year ago or so, and even donated them some extra money recently. Figured it was about time I saw what they were all about. And I even remembered to bring my membership card! I couldn't find my Philips Collection card, so that decided things.

NMWA is an easy subway ride: exit at Metro Center via 13th Street, and it's just a couple of blocks up to New York Avenue. You'll know you're in the right neighborhood when you see this:

which is the New York Avenue Sculpture Project featuring the whimsical figures by Niki de Saint Phalle.

Since I hadn't done any homework before going, I planned to just take the exhibitions, permanent and otherwise, as they came (or as I came to them). And the first thing was a neat display of the jewelry of Paloma Picasso, with a video featurette wherein she describes her experience choosing stones to work with at Tiffany's. I loved how she talks about the warmth of the gold and the joy of the colors that all come from the earth, explaining that the craftsmanship of working with the stones and metal is what connects us to them and gives them warmth.

As objects meant to be worn, these pieces of jewelry are functional. Viewing these reminded me of the objects over at the Freer Gallery that I visited a few weeks ago (and haven't gotten around to writing about or posting photos - sorry), in that you can trace the history of civilizations through how we feel about the objects in our lives and how they make us feel. What is jewelry for, exactly? Its beauty brings joy, and we borrow its beauty to enhance our own joy.

What I really liked about this museum was its graceful spaciousness (and also the fact that it wasn't jam-packed with tourists. They are still in line at the restrooms at the Air and Space Museum, as far as I know). I also appreciated the great diversity of the collections.

Here are just a few of the highlights of the main collection. I'll get to the photography exhibit in a minute.

Vivienne (1998, mixed media) and detail, by Shonagh Adelman (Canadian, born 1961)

White Column (1959, painted wood) by Louise Nevelson (American, 1899-1988)

Untitled #781 (1994; wax, plastic, cloth, and steel) by Petah Coyne (American, born 1953)

I liked that the galleries were curated/organized around subject matter and not just by medium or style: still lifes, streetscapes, abstracts, landscapes, etc. Stepping into portraiture, I wondered if I would see anything by Alice Neel, whose work I got to see with my mom at an exhibit in Minneapolis a few years ago. What distinctive style! And sure enough, I recognized the artist immediately:

T.B. Harlem (1940, oil on canvas) by Alice Neel (American, 1900-1984)

Any prejudgment about women's art being homey, sweet, and sentimental should be gone. Like Neel's unflinching portait of the impact of poverty, Frida Kahlo (clearly the celebrity of the Museum) paints with political inspiration.

Self-Portrait Dedicated to Leon Trotsky (1937, oil on masonite), and detail, by Frida Kahlo (Mexican, 1907-1954).

Interestingly, the abstracts had a softer touch from the female hand than I'm used to ...

Bacchus #3 (1978, acrylic and charcoal on canvas) by Elaine de Kooning (American, 1920-1989)

Orion (1973, oil on canvas) and Iris, Tulips, Jonquils, and Crocuses (1969, acrylic on canvas) by Alma Woodsey Thomas (American, 1891-1978)

... so even the Lee Krasner piece that clearly aligns with the Jackson Pollack style is somehow less disturbing.

The Springs (1964, oil on canvas) by Lee Krasner (American, 1908-1984)

Okay, I'll stop posting my poor photos of great art. The highlight of my excursion was the photography exhibit on the second floor, Eye Wonder: Photography from the Bank of America Collection.

It was great to see a range of visual artists besides the ones you'd expect, like Margaret Bourke-White and Dorothea Lange. My big complaint here is that there was no exhibition catalog! The handout available at the entrance to the exhibit doesn't include all of the pieces on display, and is only slightly more useful than the About the Exhibit page linked above. This is such a shame for people like me who just don't have memory for details, like the unfamiliar German and Dutch names in the captions.

And no, I did not take pictures of the pictures; in the other galleries, I photographed the caption information along with the art so I could have a record of what I saw and enjoyed - after the Renwick debacle last year, where the book about the museum was decades out of date, I vowed not to lose the basic information about my experiences. It's the same reason I keep the programs from all the plays I attend.

The best I can do to share the experience is to use the press photos from the museum. So here are just a few of the many wonderful images I got to see today:

Snow Halter, Salina County, Kansas (December 22, 1990, Chromogenic print) by Terry Evans. Credit: Bank of America Collection

Automat, 977 Eighth Avenue (1936, Gelatin Silver Print) by Berenice Abbott. Credit: Bank of America Collection

Magnolia Blossom (1925, Gelatin silver print) by Imogen Cunningham. Credit: Bank of America Collection

Backlit Radishes, Iwate-ken, Japan (1986, Gelatin silver print) by Linda Butler. Credit: Bank of America Collection

Revenge of the Goldfish (1981, Cibachrome print) by Sandy Skoglund. Credit: Bank of America Collection

If I had an exhibit catalog (or if I'd been able to take a picture of the caption information), I could tell you how she got that picture. Sigh.

eta, sorry for the messed-up spacing; Photobucket went wack-o on the last two pix and I had to switch to the blogger uploader - which I've never been able to position correctly. Not my day for technology...