Not Going to Buenos Aires – yet

Not Going to Buenos Aires opened (in person visits!) last weekend at the Errant Art Space in Victoria, B.C. The previous Art Caravan post explained the genesis of the art show’s theme – six artists inquire into the complexity of yearning to be anywhere other than the ‘here’ of a pandemic shutdown.

Not Going to Buenos Aires group art show postcard

As you can imagine, six artists interpret one theme in vastly different ways. The website for NGTBA provides each artist’s statement and artwork images. The diversity of media is remarkable – you will see embroidery, collage, printmaking, paper sculpture and painting.

Annus Horribilis, Amy Marcus, embroidery on cotton

Jardín di Los Sueños 1, (detail) Joanne Hewko, acrylic on canvas

As I noted in the last post, overlapping ideas, like climate change and environmental degradation, emerged from the works. Other commonalities are evident. It’s interesting to see Janet Brooks and Kate Scoones both reference the ubiquitous Zoom calls we are all enduring. Janet created a series of Zoom Room paintings which mimic the fractured Zoom experience in an emphasized horizontal perspective.

Zoom Room 3, Janet Brooks, acrylic and pencil on cradle board

About her works Among my Souvenirs, Kate says: Each subject is alone and motionless on a colourful background, with no specific landscape or environment. They are intimate yet aloof (not unlike a Zoom call when private space is shared with strangers).

Among my souvenirs, Kate Scoones, acrylic gouache on foamcore

My series wish you were here….. echoes Kate’s observation about uniqueness within a relationship. The presentation of the artwork also reinforces the grid inherent in a Zoom call.

wish you were here…. Terry Vatrt, mixed media

Almost all of the artists commented that the pandemic, while forcing us to slow down, resulted in new discoveries in our art practises. Trish Shwart says she’s been able to… work more slowly, and at a much larger scale than I have worked in the past few years. The continuous day to day practice has allowed me to develop a kind of resilience in terms of how I approach and modify the paintings over the course of their development.

The Air was Still and the Sun was Out (detail) Trish Shwart, acrylic on wood panel

Kate writes I wouldn’t have delved so deeply into a mundane subject and found it so compelling had I not been confined.

In my own studio, I was surprised by the long lengths of time I spent working on the larger pieces. It felt like an extraordinarily contemplative process. Standing on their Shoulders took me several iterations, and months, to complete.

Not surprisingly, Amy humorously summed up her experience working at home.

I have a short attention span so for NGTBA, as a challenge, I took on a v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-w-w project. My Monkey Mind was hand embroidered with single strands of thread and that extended the work time into just short of forever. And that was supposed to be the point.
At times i experienced it as a meditation as intended, and at other times it felt like a drawn out trial. In those times, if ‘trial’ is a metaphor, I found myself guilty of monkeying around.
In the end, fast, s-l-o-w, meditative, drawn out, guilty, or not, it was all part of the dance.

My Monkey Mind, Amy Marcus, embroidery

The show is open one more weekend, (April 17-18, 2021) with covid protocols in place. We’ve provided a website with plenty of visuals, links to a CBC radio interview, and a visual walk through ‘tour.’ Please visit as you are able, and see if any of our responses to these strange days resonate with you.

Not Going to Buenos Aires

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My favourite mask right now is one that announces Not Going to Buenos Aires. (Let’s pause here and consider that a year ago, you’d be scratching your head, wondering what I really meant by my favourite mask. These days, wearing a mask in public is almost second nature – an essential item on the mental phone-keys-sunglasses list as we leave our homes.)

Not Going to Buenos Aires masks

On occasion, it elicits comments like I wish I was going to Buenos Aires and I like your mask. It’s fun to explain that it’s the title of a group art show in which I am participating. If people seem interested, I pass them this postcard with all the show details.

Not Going to Buenos Aires group art show postcard invitation

Trish Shwart formulated the idea of this art show. The project was a great way to connect with other artists around a theme (longing, uncertainty, impossible dreams) that I find compelling, she says.

Mid-year 2020, and several months into the pandemic, Trish invited several artists in Victoria, BC to consider our participation. Her introductory proposal outlined possible themes:

Going to Buenos Aires In March (2020) my husband began talking about going to Buenos Aires. Even though he knew it was impossible to travel during a pandemic he was adamant we would go soon. Why not embrace this crazy idea, I thought. Imagine going somewhere green and beautiful. Buenos Aires began to be a fantasy stand-in for somewhere wonderful. It stood in total contrast to the reality of our covid society. I started to yearn for what it represented.

To help imagine more clearly what it would be like to be in Buenos Aires, I started doing some research and my imaginings were disrupted by some hard truths. Because of the pandemic, citizens of Buenos Aires are going hungry and becoming homeless. There are strikes and civil unrest. The economic disparities have grown and for many there is a great degree of economic and physical instability.

So what does it mean to be going to Buenos Aires? What we imagine. What we long for. What we think will bring positive change into our lives is not always simple. Can a yearning for green and beautiful exist alongside the difficulties of others? Is that in fact how we humans cope with challenges? By ignoring some aspects of it?

These images explore the dual nature of yearning. Of longing for the unattainable. And of considering how what we yearn for, long for, is not necessarily a reality.

I jumped at the opportunity to explore these themes. The pandemic gave me time – lots and lots and LOTS of time -to wish, dream and hope in the context of devastating world events. Examining the concepts of yearning and longing appealed to me. Trish provided us with vocabulary, a framework and deadlines (!) to process and express some of our losses as well as our dawning insights.

Over the course of a handful of mercifully efficient Zoom meetings, we distilled the theme and revised the title of the show.

Not Going to Buenos Aires artists’ Zoom meeting

Not Going to Buenos Aires

Six artists inquire into the complexity of yearning to be anywhere other than the ‘Here’ of a pandemic shutdown. From settling in to the gratifications of solitude to the restless urges for escape, and all points between, this show reflects their stories.

These stories show the diversity of their thoughts and feelings and will surely prompt viewers to consider their own responses to these restrictive times. If you’re not going to Buenos Aires, where are you going?

It’s fascinating to see the unique responses from each artist. Six different artists produce six different interpretations, although overlapping concerns emerge. Joanne Hewko says that Before the pandemic, I loved to plan trips and travel….the feeling of anticipation and discovery. I realized that travelling, especially by air, is a privileged activity that has consequences environmentally and culturally….it is something that I can no longer take for granted.

Trish notes that the pandemic created an ideal opportunity to reflect on how the environmental degradation that is the norm is beginning to shift how our world will be.

The Air was Still and the Sun was Out (detail) Trish Shwart, acrylic on wood panel

The pandemic has affirmed my conviction of the interdependence between humans and the natural world. It’s a deadly example of the connection of the micro to the macro in all things.

bred in the bone (detail), Terry Vatrt, etching, embossing, chine collé

We’ll talk more about the artists’ ideas and experiences in future posts. In the meantime, if you’re interested in more images, and reading our artist statements, you can visit the Not Going to Buenos Aires website.

In one week you can visit us in person, too. ( Covid protocols in place, of course.) Let us know where you aren’t going – just yet.

Celebrating with The Frick and The WAG

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The Art Caravan is celebrating…in a covid kind of way. A year ago we started posting regularly – every two weeks. (Our initial, and very tentative post was in February 2014, with sporadic postings until 2020.)

Re-reading the March 2020 post reminds me how little we knew about life in a pandemic. Sigh. Be reassured this post is NOT going to discuss the all-too-familiar challenging and horrendous circumstances of the last twelve months. Instead, we are going to mark this anniversary (of sorts) with gentleness, one of the strategies Dr. Pauline Boss recommends, to survive in a time of loss. She recommends doing things we enjoy, participating in rituals and being kind to others.

The most recent edition of Cocktails with a Curator: Rembrandt’s Self Portrait aptly kicks off our celebration. It’s a perfect blend of art, ritual and kindness. If you are a regular reader of The Art Caravan you will know that I am mad for Rembrant’s Self Portrait at the Frick. I make a point of seeing it whenever I visit New York City.

Rembrandt van Rijn, Self Portrait, 1658, The Frick Collection

I wondered when this masterpiece would be featured on Cocktails with a Curator, one of the four (4!) video series produced by The Frick Collection. (I also enjoyed The Frick Five video series, which resulted in excellent daydreams and interesting conversations. Skip the Netfl*x and go to The Frick’s You Tube channel, which offers a plethora of worthy choices.)

A virtual visit to an artwork isn’t the same as experiencing it in person, but I enjoyed the presentation by the always erudite Xavier F. Salomon, the chief curator at The Frick. He outlines the history and context of this self portrait in Rembrandt’s life. I may not agree entirely with his interpretation of Rembrandt’s self-depiction, but the discussion adds to my appreciation of the painting.

The Frick adapted well to the harsh realities of a pandemic. It generously (most programs are free), and regularly shares its art and expertise through innovative online programming.

If you’re in the mood for more celebrating (and who isn’t?) The Winnipeg Art Gallery opens Qaumajuq, its new Inuit Art Centre, this week. (Here is the post from January 2021 with more information about this gallery hosting the world’s largest collection of Inuit art.) The WAG is kindly inviting us to a two part, virtual opening to celebrate the new 40,000 square foot space.

Qaumajuq, Winnipeg Art Gallery, cbc.ca image

I encourage you to open some bubbly, and salute The Frick and the Winnipeg Art Gallery. Despite the formidable difficulties presented by a pandemic, both institutions continue to contribute to society in innovative and meaningful ways. They unstintingly provide easy access to art, beauty, differing cultures, ideas and a myriad of educational opportunities. They are worthy of our appreciation, praise and celebration. Cheers!

Dear Frank (Mikuska)

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A very special abstract artist, Frank Mikuska, died recently. He is significant to me because I had the privilege and good fortune to work alongside him at Martha Street Studio in Winnipeg. I was in awe of him; he was decades older than me, retired from his professional career and respected by established artists at the studio and in Winnipeg.

In our days in the studio, Frank taught me an important lesson. One morning in particular, when I was expressing some doubt about making art (the why am I doing this? what’s the point? kind of moaning) Frank matter-of-factly said to me Just do the work. He didn’t wait for a response, or further discussion. He immediately turned back to his inking table and continued working. Problem solved.

So it was no surprise to read Frank’s response to questions about his time making monoprints at Martha Street Studio. This is what he said in a detailed interview with Gallery One One One at the University of Manitoba:

All of the material was there; it was just a matter of doing the work. This is a carryover from what I was already doing, while I was working for the Corporation because I had to learn back there how to do things quickly, choice of image, and also the ability to say stop, stop the work, make a decision that the work is complete. That’s always come with me and I still think in those terms. I never sketch, so when I start working with these prints, it was a question of “here is a palette, start doing it.” It just kind of fell into place. The images came very intuitively.

Frank’s studio workspace was always organized, compact and clean – no small feat for a printmaker working with multiple colours of oil-based inks. I recall how he carefully wiped every tube of oil after use. He worked quickly, efficiently, and thoughtfully. Powerful abstract images emerged from his methodical process.

Discovery, Frank Mikuska, monoprint, 2007

Divergence, Frank Mikuska, monoprint, 2004

Frank treated me as an equal in the studio. It was a tremendous gift to me – an emerging artist – but, I think, an integral aspect of his genuine respect for others and the creative process. In the interview he also describes the atmosphere in the studio:

Working at the print shop was just phenomenal. I was captured by the number of people who were working there and they were working in a traditional sense. After a while, they were looking over my shoulder, they were looking over each other’s shoulders, and as a result, there was a terrific exuberance, people making art; printmaking. I was really happy then, no doubt about that.

Working at Martha Street Studio was a happy time for me, too. Frank became an unofficial mentor. He encouraged me, provided feedback, and even shared end-of-the-day ink with me. Working with his palette for fun eventually influenced a whole series of my own work.

In reading Frank’s obituary, and the UM interview, I discovered how little I really knew about him. We briefly discussed our shared Slovak ethnic heritage, but I wasn’t aware that English was not his first language. I remember hearing he had a career at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation but I didn’t know that when he started, in 1955, he was one of the very first graphic designers at the newly launched CBC Television (Winnipeg.)

Frank’s contributions to the art world were significant. In one of his collaborative projects, he won the Prix Anik Award for Graphic Design of Soundscapes for Trenody – Music of R. Murray Schafer. He exhibited in several significant group shows of Modernist art in Canada. Frank also never mentioned that his work is in major collections, like the Museum of Fine Arts in Montréal and the Winnipeg Art Gallery.

The brief video Mikuska: Original Monoprints by Frank Mikuska by Ron Sloan provides a very good survey of Frank’s monoprints as well as biographical information, including rare examples of his fabulous work at the CBC.

I am happy to have one of Frank’s monoprints in my home. An acquaintance once asked How long did it take him to make that? The question was posed with a wry smile and my kid could do that attitude. I was very happy with my calm response. A lifetime, I said.

Dear Frank, thank you. You did the work, and you shared it with us.

Reclaiming everyday creativity

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In a recent online writing workshop Molly Caro May said:

When you are making art – any kind of art – you are naturally soothing your nervous system. Creation is really organizing for our nervous systems. Even if you’re writing about something painful, just the formation and artistry of it is really grounding.
The point is: make art. All the time.

Molly’s statement resonated with me. I feel better when I’m making art and I see the joy in others when they are (non-pandemic times) visiting and ‘playing’ in my studio. An art professor friend says taking classes, and making art is cheaper than therapy. It seems obvious, and I know this intuitively, but to hear Molly connect creativity directly to the health of our physical bodies seems to add gravitas to the statement.

There is scientific evidence that being creative (including art, craft, writing, music making, and dancing) affects our cognitive, psychosocial and physical health. In this article in Psychology Today by Dr. Cathy Malchiodi, she notes the conclusion from a review of existing literature of over 100 studies:

Most of these studies concur that participation and/or engagement in the arts have a variety of outcomes including a decrease in depressive symptoms, an increase in positive emotions, reduction in stress responses and, in some cases, even improvements in immune system functioning.

Mihaly Czikszentmihalyi named the concentrated, absorbed state displayed by artists at work as flow. In 1990, Dr. Czikszentmihalyi published Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience.

Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, by Mihaly Csikscentmihalyi, 1990

In North America (the Western world, perhaps?) we have devalued creativity in our daily lives. What used to be the norm in public schools (sewing, cooking, art, music and woodworking classes) cannot be taken for granted now. The opportunities for people to learn and enjoy simple creative endeavours are reduced; it’s all considered a luxury at best, and pointless to many.

Not surprisingly, creativity is valued when it can be commodified. Business has embraced creativity for its contribution to profitability. The Flow Genome Project self-identifies as The Official Source for Peak Performance and Culture. It advertises its collaboration with companies like Google, Nike and Goldman Sachs.

It seems obvious that we need to recapture the pleasure of creating things – not for profit, or for performative value – but for our own health and enjoyment. If ever there was a time that our nervous systems – individually and collectively – need soothing, it’s now.

Go ahead and do something creative – every day. Better still if it’s something temporary and not Instagram worthy: living room solo dancing, harmonizing with your favourite singers, making and writing in a private notebook. The writer Annie Dillard wisely said… How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

More art fun!

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Speaking of Inuit art, (previous post) who are your favourite Inuit artists? Do you have one….or three? If you’re an Art Caravan follower, you know I have a few favourites, including Kenojouak Ashevak (1927-2013) and Oviloo Tunnillie (1949-2014.)

Kenojuak Ashevak, thestar.com image

Oviloo Tunillie, cbc.ca image

Ningiukulu Teevee is another contemporary (born in 1963) Inuit artist on my favourites list. (Isn’t that the beauty of lists – easily edited, amended, and never ending?) I first wrote about her in 2015. She works in drawing and printmaking, including lithography, etching and aquatint, as well as the more traditional stone cut and stencil. I am attracted to the sense of humour and playfulness evident in her art. The print, Trance, seems especially appropriate to this covid winter. (sigh)

Trance, Ningiukulu Teevee, 2014, stonecut and stencil, edition of 50

Her subject matter is varied; traditional stories and legends are explored, as well as contemporary experiences and life in the Arctic. The works express a beguiling combination of charm and edginess.

You Know your Inuk When, Ningiukulu Teevee, 2016, Madrona Gallery image

Yesterday, Ningiekulu Teevee, 2008, stonecut and stencil, dorsetfinearts.com image

Since 2004, she has contributed to the annual Graphics Collection from Cape Dorset. Boastful Owl, is a lithograph from the 2020 Cape Dorset Annual Print Collection. (Sold out!)

Boastful Owl, Ningiukulu Teevee, 2020, lithograph, dorsetfinearts.com image

In 2017, the Winnipeg Art Gallery exhibited a solo show of Teevee’s work at the Canadian Embassy in Washington, D.C. Ningiukulu Teevee: Kingait Stories caught the attention of the Smithsonian Magazine, who described the show as unique and wonderful.

In 2019, Dorset Fine Arts, in conjunction with Pomegranate, published Ningiukulu Teevee: Drawings and Prints from Cape Dorset. Leslie Boyd’s writing accompanies the 80+ images and photographs. Need a last minute Valentine’s Day gift? The book is readily available through your local independent bookseller (I know, because I just ordered it!)

Where are you going post pandemic?

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Let’s play a fun game to cheer us up during this covid winter. Imagine that you, and most of the world, are now vaccinated. You are able to travel. (Yes. Ahhh…..) Which art museum / gallery will you visit first? (Take a moment – or ten – to imagine and savour the possibilities.)

Serious contenders for my immediate attention are the Audain Art Museum in Whistler, British Columbia and the Remai Modern in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Both of these Canadian art museums opened in the last five years. I haven’t visited them – yet.

Audain Art Museum, pekkau.ca image

Remai Modern, remaimodern.org image

Continuing on this train (caravan?!) of thought about ‘new-to-me’ Canadian art galleries, my choice is quickly decided. Post pandemic, the first art museum I will visit is Qaumajuq, a brand new, striking addition to the Winnipeg Art Gallery in Winnipeg, Manitoba.

Qaumajuq is an exciting collaboration between the Government of Nunavut (northern Canada) and the Winnipeg Art Gallery. In 2015, the Government of Nunavut entrusted its Fine Arts Collection of Inuit art to the WAG, which provides care, storage, and exhibition of the art, along with mentorship and educational programming.

The partnership makes the world’s largest collection (14,000+ artworks) of Inuit art accessible to many more people. This week a significant sculpture, Tuniigusiia, was installed outside the building. Goota Ashoona‘s marble sculpture was commissioned by the Manitoba Teachers’ Society.

The marble sculpture,Tuniigusiia, by Goota Ashoona, was commissioned by the Manitoba Teachers' Society, wag.ca image

Tuniigusiia, Goota Ashoona, wag.ca image

Inuit artist Goota Ashoona with her sculpture, Tuniigusiia

Goota Ashoona, Jocelyn Piirainen image

The Government of Nunavut has chosen a good home for its Inuit art collection. The Winnipeg Art Gallery is a leader in the visual arts in Canada. It opened in 1912; it was the first civic art gallery in Canada. Before the realization of Qaumajuq, the WAG was renown for its extensive Inuit art collection that began with a sculpture purchase in 1956. It was also the first public gallery in Canada to exhibit contemporary First Nations art.

I’ve enjoyed imagining this trip to the Winnipeg Art Gallery. It’s brought back good memories of past visits to the WAG, and all the great art I’ve seen there. We WILL be visiting art galleries and museums again. Which one will you visit first?

Gee’s Bend Quilts and…..printmaking?!

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You are probably familiar with the Gee’s Bend Quilts – the quilts created by women from Gee’s Bend, in rural Alabama, U.S.A.. The colourful fabric works have been favourably – and appropriately – compared to works by Henri Matisse and Paul Klee.

Gee’s Bend quilts, de Young Museum, 2017, T. Vatrt image

This Smithsonian article briefly outlines the history of the quilts, and the people living in their isolated community of Gee’s Bend, also known as Boykin, Alabama. Why was I surprised to learn that the quilts are inextricably linked to slavery, and poverty?

The quilts were made out of necessity, to keep the women and their families warm in their unheated cabins. In Arlonzia Pettway‘s home, for example, electricity didn’t arrive until 1964, running water was available in 1974, and a telephone installed in 1976.

Bars and blocks, Arlonzia Pettway, 2000s, soulsgrowndeep.org image

Recycled and scavenged fabrics were used for the quilts. In the excellent NYTimes video about the Gee’s Bend quilters, While I Yet Live, one of the women recalls … Sometime you walking along the highway, you see an old piece of material, you went to pick it up and run home and give it to my momma. And, you know, she put it in a quilt.

Anna Mae Young’s quilt, below, is made of used work clothes.

Gee’s Bend quilt, Anna Mae Young, 1976, Smithsonianmag.com image

The idea of artwork being both beautiful and useful is worth exploring. Of course, William Morris’ quote comes to mind: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. (Beauty of Life lecture, 1880) Is it sacrilegious/naïve/cheeky to suggest that several well known abstract expressionist paintings could be easily swapped out for these quilts? One could hang the quilt on the wall and take it down when needed. Goodbye Pollack, welcome Pettway!

I am sorry to say that I didn’t know anything of these artworks until October 2017. I visited the deYoung Museum during a brief stay in San Fransisco (sigh….remember those days?!), and, as often happens, happily stumbled upon new and challenging work. The Quilts of Gee’s Bend exhibited alongside the shows Revelations: Art from the American South and Coming Together: Artistic Traditions of the Quilt and the Print.

I had never seen a collaboration between quilters and printmakers. Quilting and printmaking? How does that work? Paulson Fontaine Press in the San Fransisco Bay Area worked with the quilters to produce limited editions of intaglio prints. Here is a very brief video from their studios, where the soft ground and aquatint etchings are produced.

Paulson Fontaine Press image

The collaboration began in 2005, and continues to the present. In 2005 and 2007, (then) Paulson Press printed an edition of four of Louisiana Bendolph’s quilt designs. As recently as October 2020, they released three new editions of Gee’s Bend prints by Mary Lee Bendolph and her daughter, Essie Bendolph Pettway.

Paulson Fontaine Press exemplifies the democratic nature of printmaking. Working with the artist quilters of Gee’s Bend, they print the artworks in editions of 50. The art becomes accessible to more people. Museums are collecting, and exhibiting the works. Commercial galleries are offering the prints for sale. Paulson Fontaine Press is also contributing a portion of their sales of the latest print release to the Equal Justice Initiative.

Useful and beautiful artwork, indeed.

Spider woman Louise Bourgeois….but so much more

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Louise Bourgeois is probably best known for her spider sculptures. One of the largest graces/guards/threatens (depending on your personal reaction to arachnids) the entrance to the National Gallery of Canada.

Maman, Louise Bourgeois, 1999 National Gallery of Canada image

From October 2017 to July 2019 San Francisco Museum of Modern Art produced the very engaging exhibition, Spiders. Because of their size, volume and apparent solidity, the sculptures invite interaction with the viewer, albeit tentatively, in some cases.

Spiders, Louise Bourgeois, SFMoMA 2017, T. Vatrt image

The exhibition also included more intimate pieces.

Spider, Louise Bourgeoise, SFMoMA 2017, T. Vatrt image

This smaller Spider from 2003 is made of stainless steel and antique tapestry. SFMoMA calls it an uncanny combination of materials that is both beautiful and disconcerting. The exhibition’s curator Sarah Roberts wrote about the artwork, referencing Bourgeois’ personal history. She says that Bourgeois laid bare a more fraught and complex psychological landscape–bright with devotion and protection but also darkened with feelings of guilt, rage and fear of abandonment or failure.

In a short video from the Tate Bourgeois says I transform hate into love. That’s what makes me tick.

Spider, Louise Bourgeois, 2003, T. Vatrt image

Louise Bourgeois was born in Paris on Christmas day in 1911. (Yes! She was creating the Spider sculptures as an octogenarian.) She studied mathematics and art in Paris. (Interesting to note: she had a print shop next door to her parents’ tapestry gallery in a suburb of Paris.) In 1938 she moved to the U.S.A. with her American husband.

After they settled in New York City, she created The Personages. I find this series as compelling as the Spiders, but for different reasons.

Personages, Louise Bourgeois, artoronto.ca image

Personages, Louise Bourgeois, whitney.org image

Hauser & Wirth’s catalogue of her work for Art Basel 2013 is definitely worth a look. It includes images of Bourgeois, the Personages, and background information.

The appeal of Personages is multi faceted. They are made of malleable, natural materials: wood and plaster. (They were eventually cast in bronze.) The scale is more human-sized, as opposed to the intimidating size of the Spiders. She successfully uses the Modernist aesthetic of abstract symbols to evoke the presence of individuals – people to whom she felt connected, but from whom she was physically separated.

In an interview with the New York Times, Bourgeois said this: Suddenly I had this huge sky space to myself, and I began doing these standing figures. A friend asked me what I was doing. I told him ‘I feel so lonely that I am rebuilding these people around me.’

Perhaps the emotion contained in the works – the yearning, the loneliness, the love, the regret – is what I find most appealing. It’s palpable. At this time of year, in the midst of a pandemic, those emotions resonate deeply.

All I want for Christmas…..

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The Art Caravan has compiled a brief list for this year’s Christmas wish list. Since the best gifts are books and art (dark chocolate goes without saying,) I chose one book and one work of art.

Without too much deliberation – it seemed an easy choice – Guerrilla Girls: Art of Behaving Badly is at the top of my list. Goodreads.com gives it 5 stars. The New York Times rates it as one of the Best Art Books of 2020. It comes with a punch-out gorilla mask – who could resist?

Guerrilla Girls: The Art of Behaving Badly

Just for fun, I decided to make the choice of artwork hypothetical – price is not a consideration. (It is, after all, a wish list.) This made the selection far more difficult. I considered a sculpture by Oviloo Tunnnillie, the Inuit sculptor. Here is my 2016 post about this remarkable artist, with several images of her sculptures. The ones I like the best are of Sednas, and are in museum collections, so, hypothetically speaking, not available. (One can makes one’s own rules in this game.)

I decided to shop for a print by Sybil Andrews, the British printmaker and welder (!) who eventually settled on Vancouver Island, after World War II. Her linocut images, carved in the machine age style, are colourful and dynamic.

Skaters, Sybil Andrews, 1953, artsy.net image

It seems like the perfect choice, doesn’t it? It’s a wintry scene, created in Canada, for someone with a fondness for printmaking and outdoor skating.

Since we know, and the pandemic is emphasizing, that the best things in life aren’t things, I have a third and final wish, which is a non-material item. (See above about making the rules.) My wish is for high quality art education in all schools, at all age levels, as part of the basic curriculum. This would include practical classes, wherein all students learn to draw, play a musical instrument, sing and participate in drama classes. In addition to the hands-on learning, art appreciation opportunities would be provided. Students would attend art shows, and performances by professional actors, musicians and dancers. Artists would regularly visit schools to lead workshops and give performances.

It’s a big wish, I know. But think of all the benefits: happier, healthier, creative individuals. Employment created for artists and teachers. We know that art brings a myriad of benefits to our lives. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone had the same exposure to arts and culture?

The original Art Caravan

I’d be happy to hear your three wishes. And please, pass the (dark) chocolate.

Take a break from Netfl*x – virtual dance performances

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The things we learn during a pandemic! Who would have believed, pre-covid, that watching dance presentations virtually could be enjoyable? My few vague memories of professional dance performances are static/full stage view/one camera angle/small screen televised programs of traditional ballet.

Thankfully, the filming of dance has developed into a specialized art form. Dance videos are a legitimate form of entertainment. I got a glimpse of this a few years ago, watching this 2015 City and Colour music video of Dallas Green’s Lover Come Back.

Like a professional sporting event, it’s a different experience watching dance virtually, rather than in person. I can hardly believe I am typing this, but it seems (based on my covid mandated dance viewing) that both in-person and videoed presentations can be satisfying experiences. As long as the performances, choreography and filming are exceptional, the experiences are enjoyable, albeit in different ways. (Close ups: check. Dancers’ expressions: check. Going out for dinner with friends before or after: impossible right now.)

The Dance Victoria organization quickly pivoted to a virtual season of dance performances early in the pandemic. You may recall my March post about Ballet BC’s presentation of Romeo + Juliet. A highly anticipated, in-person dance presentation was cancelled; fortunately, a video of the performance was made available to subscribers.

Romeo + Juliet, Ballet BC (image by Michael Slobodian)

Dance Victoria’s 2020-2021 season continues virtually. Compagnie Hervé KOUBI, a French/Algerian dance company opened the season. Watch this short video to get a sense of the physicality of this remarkable company of dancers. Here’s a trailer for What the day owes to the night – the full performance I recently viewed….twice.

Compagnie Hervé KOUBI, What the day owes to the night, NY Times image

Some dance companies are offering free content. Most of these performances have been created in response to the pandemic and its restrictions. The Guggenheim offers these Works in Process. Highly creative, they are site specific, and take place outdoors, near Lincoln Center in NYC. The National Ballet of Canada is presenting Expansive Dances, a series of three different solos. Ailey Forward is available this month from the renowned Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre.

With all of the paid and free performances, there are supporting material and bonus features. For example, the Dance Victoria interview with the artistic director, Hervé Koubi, was fascinating, and added to the enjoyment of What the day owes to the night. There is even a behind the scenes video for Expansive Dances.

Take a break from Netfl*x. Download the Ailey Forward schedule, and watch some dance. It’s another way to make this festive season just ‘a bit’ more unique.

7 reasons why Zarina Hashmi is my latest art crush….

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How do you not fall for a person who said, I always had a suitcase ready….suppose I had to go somewhere? Or, when speaking about her art (reason number two) she said, My work is connected to language and to poetry. You know, my work is about writing. The image follows the word.

January, 2020, I saw some of Zarina’s work in Marking Time: Process in Minimal Abstraction at the Guggenheim Museum in NYC.

Untitled, Zarina Hashmi, 1977, 20 sheets of needle pierced laminated paper, Guggenheim image

Untitled, Zarina, 1977, T. Vatrt image

Untitled, Zarina, 1977, punctured paper, T. Vatrt image

I was fascinated by her use of paper. In these works, paper is everything, with nothing added to create the image – rather it is the manipulation of the paper that results in the art. The paper is the support, the medium, and the subject. (Reasons number 3 and 4: shared love of paper and the manipulation of paper to create images and structures)

After watching this 12 minute video from the Hammer Museum, I was completely smitten with Zarina Hashmi. In the video, Ms Hashmi speaks about her life, and her work. Not only is it a well produced, informative film, it reminded me that I saw the show Zarina: Paper like Skin when it traveled to The Art Institute of Chicago in 2013. At the time I remember thinking Wow! A printmaker! This is beautiful, meaningful work….from someone I’ve never heard about before. (Reason number 5: good art stays with us and repeatedly delights us)

Zarina Hashmi was born in India, but was, truly, a citizen of the world. She earned a degree in mathematics and studied printmaking (reason number 6) in Bangkok, Tokyo , and, notably, in Paris, at the renowned print shop, Atelier 17.

I just made my personal life the subject of my art. So I have to write about what I’ve gone through. Oh, it’s very painful. I have opened up my life to the scrutiny of strangers. (reason number 7: her honesty)

Luhring Augustine in New York City has a good website with images of her work, and biographical information. This short video from the Tate will solidify your admiration for this artist – at least, it did for me.

Zarina Hashmi, Tate.org.uk image

Attention ~ Caribou Crossing

Print Month Update AND an Amazing Artist You’ve Probably Never Heard Of….

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Have you been indulging a bit, or a lot, in Print Month?

Click here for the E / AB (Online) Fair and here for the IFPDA viewing rooms. The viewing rooms are wonderful: informative, and visually satisfying. They really are treasure troves, and lots more fun than regular on-line shopping! Just think: Helen Frankenthaler, Carmen Herrera, Judy Pfaff, KiKi Smith, Marion MacPhee, Joan Miró, Rembrandt, Paulson Fontaine Press, Zea Mays Printmaking….and please, watch the video about Louise Nevelson at Tamarind Institute.

As you can imagine, The Art Caravan’s (in person) 2019 visit to NYC for Print Week was jam-packed with great art viewing. Seeing Emma Nishimura‘s work at the International Print Center New York was one of the (many) highlights.

Shifting Views, 2013, Emma Nishimura

Yes! This incredible piece, depicting the landscape near Slocan, British Columbia, is composed of cut pieces of the artist’s prints, wrapped by hand around the rods.

Shifting Views, (detail),2013, Emma Nishimura

In this exhibition, Paper Borders, Nishimura used the forced relocation of her Japanese-Canadian grandparents to an internment camp in rural Canada during the years of World War II as source material. (More than 22,000 Canadians of Japanese descent were required to live in camps in British Columbia. They were allowed one suitcase per person, and their homes and property were confiscated, and sold. Here is a brief summary of the Japanese internment in Canada.)

Nishimura’s technical skills in printmaking are exceptional. Note the exquisite etching details she executes by hand. The lines in the Constructed Narrative series are composed of text from historical and familial documents / papers.

Collected Stories, (detail) Emma Nishimura

Constructed Narratives 2013-ongoing series, Emma Nishimura

Nishimura’s An Archive of Rememory is a most engaging series. Furoshiki are traditional Japanese cloth used to carry everyday items, as well as gifts. Nishimura has made furoshiki out of her etchings of internment camp and family photos.

An Archive of Rememory, 2016-ongoing, Emma Nishimura

The artworks are wrapped, and knotted into paper furoshiki, to carry the memories of a Canadian family and their community. Her furoshiki appear simple, but are complex works. Nishimura’s sculptured vessels are made up of visual representations of memories of a community denied their homes and possessions.

furoshiki from An Archive of Rememory, photo etching and photo gravure on handmade flax and abaca

It’s a lot to absorb, I know. It’s disturbing source material. Nishimura’s expressions of her ideas are complex, creative and beautiful. If you’re interested in more information, and images of her work, I highly recommend her website .

Print Month!

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I know, isn’t every month Print Month? ( I remember, as a child, asking my Mum, Why isn’t there a Kids’ Day, like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day? Of course she said, Every day is Kids’ Day.)

For The Art Caravan and many art afficiandos, original, hand made, fine art prints are irresistible. Once you get some familiarity with the world of printmakers, print studios and print shops, it’s easy to become a fan, and collector.

Each October, the International Fine Print Dealers Association (IFPDA) hosts a Print Week in New York City. This year, Print Week has become a very accessible Print Month of (not surprisingly) online programming and exhibitions.

Last year, The Art Caravan happily traveled to NYC to meet friends, and celebrate Print Week. The main event was held at the Jacob K. Jarvits Center. To say we were thrilled to attend is an understatement. I felt like I was on a pilgrimage.

Javits Center NYC, T. Vatrt image

The second floor of the conference centre was devoted to booths from international and North American galleries and museums. Artwork from Dürer and Rembrandt to contemporary artists such as Swoon were on display, and for sale. It was exciting, inspiring and provided abundant choices for the IF You could have any Artwork on Display? game. A few happy hours were spent wandering up and down the aisles, viewing artwork and talking to the dealers. Here’s a link to this year’s list of exhibitors.

International Fine Print Fair, 2019, NYC, T. Vatrt image

New York being New York, the art community embraces Print Week. What I assumed would be the main event is, in reality, one of many print-rich opportunities available in both commercial and public art galleries and museums. Because of New York based printmaker Elizabeth McAlpin‘s knowledgable recommendation, The Art Caravan also visited the E/AB Fair. This year the E/AB Fair is sponsored by the Lower East Side Printshop.

Editions / Art Book Fair, NYC, 2019, T. Vatrt image

The Editions / Art Book Fair featured hand made print editions from individual printmakers, as well as print shops. The Art Book portion is dedicated to artists creating handmade books. Many of the artists and printmakers were present, and happy to talk about printmaking. The Art Caravan spent several hours, over two afternoons, talking shop with printers and studying the artworks. Click here for this year’s viewing room…..and enjoy!

Leviathian V, Marion MacPhee, 2019

Levithian II (etching), Marion MacPhee, 2016

I was particularly smitten by these gorgeous etchings by Marion MacPhee from the Glasgow Print Studio It was a highlight to talk with her about the studio, and her fabulous etchings.

Viewing prints online is not the same as seeing them in person. The textures, the marks, the depth achieved in printmaking doesn’t easily translate via photography. (Another example of ambiguous loss.) This year, the experience will be virtual. Maybe next year we’ll be attending in person. Perhaps. In the meantime, enjoy the multiple offerings of everything print at this year’s Print Month.

Treating ourselves

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…be easier on yourselves……Treat yourself.

says Pauline Boss, who named the psychological condition of ambiguous loss. (See The Art Caravan post about it here.) She asserts that we are experiencing grief for our losses during this pandemic. No kidding. Some days- okay! many days – it feels like the world is spinning out of control. (I think the phrase, selectively used by my mother and grandmother, going to hell in a hand basket, is à propos.)

Dr. Boss also recommends that we acknowledge our sadness, stay in touch and be kind with others, establish rituals, and practise self care, as much as possible.

But be easier on yourselves and normalize it. Knowing that grief — those feelings that you described — are essentially normal. So just take the day off, or do something easy on yourself. Treat yourself.

Who are we to argue with Pauline Boss? Exactly.

The Art Caravan offers Red Roses Sonata and Cherry Blossom Symphony by Alma Thomas as our treats for today.

Red Roses Sonata, Alma Thomas, 1972, Metropolitan Museum of Art, T. Vatrt image

I hope you can see this in person some day. It shimmers. It vibrates. It’s mesmerizing. It is remarkable.

Red Roses Sonata was an unexpected treat for me as I wandered one afternoon through the overwhelming abundance of the Metropolitan Museum in NYC. (You know the feeling: so much good art, but dwindling energy, and the is it too early for a tea break thought?) It interrupted the mid-afternoon museum shuffle and my drifting attention. It was a beacon of energy that demanded my focus. I remember being almost giddy seeing it.

No surprise, really, that I had never heard of the artist, Alma Thomas. (We all know how much attention an African American woman of a ‘certain age’ garners. sigh) She was the first African American woman to have a solo show at the Whitney, in 1972. In an interview she said One of the things we couldn’t do was go into museums, let alone think of hanging our pictures there. My, times have changed. Just look at me now.

Her life is as remarkable as her work. She was a public school art teacher. Upon retirement in 1960, she painted full time and produced an extraordinary body of work in the expressionist style. The Smithsonian Magazine recently published a succinct article about her, with good images.

She is sometimes included in the color field or color school movements, although there is more energy and emotion in her work than is found in many of its practitioners. Cherry Blosson Symphony is in the show The Fullness of Color: 1960s Painting at the soon-to-be-reopened Guggenheim in NYC. More visual treats by Alma Thomas can be found at artsy.net.

Cherry Blossom Symphony, Alma Thomas, 1972, T. Vatrt image

Art, ambiguity and loss

The Best Impressionist Painter is not Monet…and other heresies

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Who, me? Dissing Monet?? No, not at all. It’s just that Berthe Morisot doesn’t get the attention she deserves. She is my favourite Impressionist painter, and, (dare I say?) the best of the lot.

Berthe Morisot, Self Portrait, 1985

The Frick Five’s final question (which is really two questions) Which artist do you find most overrated? Which artist do you find most underrated? reminded me of Berthe Morisot. If you are thinking Berthe who? you’re not alone. Many people are not aware of her, and her significance in the history of art.

I was fortunate to come across several of her artworks in the Musée Marmottan in Paris. (Three fun facts: I briefly wrote about Mme Morisot in 2014, the Marmottan is one of my favourite art museums in Paris, and, coincidentally, it has a huge Monet wing – definitely a topic for another post.)

More recently, she has received some of the attention she deserves. In 2019, The Dallas Museum of Art hosted the international exhibition Berthe Morisot, Woman Impressionist, which also toured to the Barnes Foundation, the Musée D’orsay and the Musée National des beaux-arts du Québec. Everyone from Artnet News to The New Yorker to The Washington Post has been writing about her since 2018.

In her biography of Berthe Morisot, Anne Higonnet, outlines some of the challenges Berthe Morisot faced. From our viewpoint in the 21st century, it’s startling to realize Madame Morisot (Berthe’s mother) had to chaperone Berthe’s painting visits to the Lourve.

Nineteenth-century bourgeois convention recognized only one suitable path for women – marriage and motherhood. Anything else was failure. Single women were ‘excess’ human beings who had not fulfilled their womanly destinies. A career was supposed to ‘unsex’ a woman, leech away her femininity, and render her abnormal. In Morisot’s field, such threats acquired a daunting edge. For genius was deemed a masculine attribute. No one could imagine a great woman painter. None had yet existed, and this seemed sufficient proof that none ever would. (p.51)

Berthe Morisot, The Cradle, 1872, oil on canvas, Musée d’Orsay image

The challenges and obstacles she faced began well before she even reached the easel and picked up a paintbrush; they were everywhere around her, in the idea that ‘genius’ was a function of masculinity, in the dearth of role models for her to follow, in the … logistics she encountered on a day-to-day basis, in the minds of others and in her own mind. (p.148)

Berthe Morisot, Woman at Her Toilette, 1875–1880, oil on canvas, Art Institute of Chicago image

How Berthe Morisot Broke Barriers to Become the First Female Impressionist is a succinct article, with good images, from My Modern Met. All ‘barrier breaking’ aside, Berthe Morisot is, in my books, a DFP (damned fine painter.) Note the lush brushwork, and the gorgeous palette – all hallmarks of the Impressionist painters.

Take another look at the compositions, too. Subtle, but powerful: in Woman at Her Toilette the line of the mirror anchors the left side of the painting, whilst the highlights off her earring, and then the glass container, draw us in to appreciate the beauty of her shoulder and neck. The right side of the painting is fascinatingly vague, and gives our eye a space to rest, in contrast to the rich details enveloping the woman.

Notice how she uses geometric shapes to give strength and contrast to the domestic scenes she portrays in both The Cradle and Eugène Manet on the Isle of Wight. Triangles abound in the former painting; rectangles compose the latter, below.

Berthe Morisot, In England (Eugène Manet on the Isle of Wight), 1875, oil on canvas, Musée Marmottan, Photo by Erich Lessing Art Resource, NY

I suspect one of Edouard Manet’s portraits of Berthe Morisot is more well-known than any of her paintings. Edouard Manet was her brother-in-law; she was married to Eugène Manet. Although Anne Higonnet dismisses art historical gossip (p.92) she admits that

….he made more portraits of her than anyone else. (“He has made a portrait of his wife, I think it was about time,” wrote Cornell Thomas Morisot in March 1869.) (p.55)

It’s a flattering portrait, there’s no arguing that. Whether of not they were romantically involved is a topic for speculation. I am looking forward to reading the new novel, Madder Women, by Dede Crane which promises a tumultuous love affair. Who can resist?

Berthe Morisot with a Bouquet of Violets, Edouard Manet, 1872

One must give credit where credit is due. Besides all of his prodigious output, Claude Monet left an extensive collection of 19th century Japanese prints in his home in Giverny, as well as a gorgeous garden for us to experience. He may not be the best of the Impressionist painters, but he was generous, and remains hugely popular and beloved. Perhaps as Berthe Morisot receives more attention, her genius will be appreciated and her artwork will be widely enjoyed.

Family dynamics

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Have you thought about the questions from the Frick Five videos? (See the last post for more info.) Any definitive responses? No hard and fast selections made here, either. But isn’t that part of the enjoyment?

I’m still thinking about my answer to the first question: What is the one work of art you would want to live with every day? I can’t commit to a decision….yet. But thinking about possible choices reminded me of a favourite painting by the artist John Singer Sargent.

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit, John Singer Sargent, 1882, NYTimes image

This is a stunning oil painting. For starters, it is large: 7 feet by 7 feet square. It assumes a significant physical presence in the Museum of Fine Arts Boston. Wikipedia reminded me that The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit is hung between the original two vases depicted in the painting.

I don’t think of myself as a huge fan of realist painting, but this painting offers far more than a physical representation of a person, or a group. I have had the opportunity to see it in person, with plenty of time to sit in an uncrowded space, and enjoy it. (The typical art museum visitor spends, on average, less than 30 seconds looking at a piece of art, according to a study published in Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity and Art in 2017.)

Consider the composition. Our attention is immediately captured by the girls. (Psychological studies provide evidence that our eye / attention is instinctively drawn to a human face or figure in visual art.) This is not a typical arrangement of figures for a family portrait, especially considering it was painted in 1882. We don’t even see the (presumably) eldest daughter’s face as she is turned away from the viewer and and is obscured by shadow. Two of the girls hold more traditional poses, but not together. One of them is shadowed, and the other is at the edge of the painting. The youngest is plopped on the floor, like her doll. The child and the doll present as one figure.

John Singer Sargent was a prolific artist , creating thousands of artworks in oil, watercolour and charcoal. He was born in Italy to American parents, and lived most of his life in Europe, with frequent trips to the USA. At the beginning of his career, he accepted many portrait commissions in America.

Lady with the Rose (Charlotte Louise Burckhardt), John Singer Sargent, 1882

Miss Beatrice Townsend, John Singer Sargent, 1882

The Boit family were part of the expatriate American community in Paris. In this commissioned portrait, Singer Sargent allows us, the viewers, room for imaginative speculation about the characters of the sisters. He’s given us just enough situational context to create stories about the individual personalities, and to speculate at possible family dynamics. Note the abundance of dark tones in the painting. I wonder if the parents knew, encouraged or approved of this extremely unconventional depiction of their daughters? The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit (originally titled Portraits of Children) was donated to the Museum of Fine Arts Boston in 1919, only four years after Edward Darley Boit died. Perhaps the sisters weren’t all that fond of it?

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit, John Singer Sargent, 1882, NYTimes image

Structurally, the painting is intriguing. The girls – and an inanimate object, a vase – dominate the left two thirds of the composition, with the carpet almost meeting the doorframe at an angle – the same door edge that strongly frames one of the sisters. Meanwhile, the orange-red triangular shape (a screen?) firmly pins the right side down, whilst partially obscuring the repeated vase shape. What a playground for the eye! We can travel from the human figures to the classical vase shapes to the geometry of the carpet, doorway and screen. My eye is intrigued by the reflection in the upper right third of the painting, and thus another visual trip around the composition begins.

By re-examining one of my favourite paintings, maybe I’m getting closer to a definitive answer to the second Frick Five question. Maybe.

If you could have your portrait made by any artist, who would that be?

If you could have any artwork in the world….and other perfect summer fantasies

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What is the one work of art that you would want to live with every day?

Isn’t this a great question to consider? It’s quite a fun idea to explore. Just think about it. Take your time. I find a seemingly unending stream of memories is elicited. I offer it as a satisfying bit of escapism this summer. As Annie Dillard says Spend the afternoon, you can’t take it with you.

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It’s not an easy choice for me. I acknowledge that much of the remarkable work I’ve experienced wouldn’t be easy to live with every day. There are size and volume constraints, of course, but tone and meaning and the intention of the work must be considered, too. Just as we are (or ought to be) selective about choosing housemates and partners, we are sensitive to the spirit of the artwork we bring into our lives.

If you could have your portrait made by any artist, who would that be?

I especially like this question. (Could it be because it’s so self-centred?!) Maybe it’s because I don’t know much about portrait painting and so I have fewer choices. Whatever the reason, it too, offers the opportunity for entertaining possibilites.

Artemisia Gentileschi? Caravaggio? Rembrandt? John Singer Sergeant? Berthe Morisot? Njideka Akunyili Crosby? Käthe Kollwitz?

Njideka Akunyili Crosby, I Refuse to be Invisible, 2010, artist image

The questions are not originally conceived, nor are these:

What is the work or art / monument / museum that changed your life?

What is the book, and what is the piece of music, that inspire you the most?

Which artist do you find most overrated? Which artist do you find most underrated?

These questions are posed by the Frick curators on their twice a month series, The Frick Five, available on the Frick’s website. The Frick curators, Amiee Ng and Xavier F. Salomon, conduct relaxed, remote video conversations with other curators. It’s fun to get a glimpse into their homes – not always the ubitquous book shelves – and hear them speak from a personal, as well as a professional viewpoint. The stories surrounding a life-changing piece of art or monument are delivered honestly and with a measure of vulnerability. Isn’t that what happens when we resonate with a piece of art? As they ably explain the historical and artistic significance of the works supporting images are provided.

It’s highly entertaining to hear art professionals discuss the ‘overrated’ artists, and very informative to hear their support and enthusiasm for an artist deserving more attention. They are limiting the discussion to deceased artists, and not dishing any dirt on contemporary artists – although I initially held out some hope for just such an exchange, but they are obviously more gracious, and a whole lot wiser, than me. I’ll leave it to you to find the interview with the curator who dares to question the values attributed to certain Impressionist painters.

The music and book choices are sometimes surprising, but always charming. Kylie Minogue, anyone?! I think I would find it impossible to choose only one book, or one single piece of music. Just like one piece of art, how does one choose?

There are no rules….

Breaking the Rules

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If You Want Peace, Corita Kent, 1976, created for the Campaign for Human Development

Pop art, 1960s social activism, screen printing, Los Angeles art scene, Catholic nun….one of these nouns seems incongruous, doesn’t it?

Thanks to the book Forgotten Women: The Artists by Zing Tsjeng, I learned of (Sister Mary) Corita Kent. This short video is an introduction to this intriguing personality (1918 – 1986.)

The more I read about her, the more fascinated I become. After high school, Francis Elizabeth Kent entered the order of the Immaculate Heart of Mary in Los Angeles and took the name Sister Mary Corita. She studied at the (now) California Institute of the Arts and the University of Southern California. From 1947 to 1968 she taught classes, and headed the art department at Immaculate Heart College in Los Angeles.

Imagine being one of her students in an art department that became part of the L.A. art scene. Her classroom ‘rules’ are inspiring, aren’t they? I’m especially drawn to Rules 6 and 9. Along with Rule 4, I may have found my personal Rules for Life.

Sister Corita’s Art Department rules, lettered by D. Meckleburg, Corita.org

Corita Kent and the more famous pop artist Andy Warhol were producing art in the 1960s. Both grew up in devout Catholic families. Corita saw a show of his work in 1962, shortly after she had begun working with serigraphs.

that they may have life, Corita Kent, 196

Brillo Box, Andy Warhol, 1964

Coca-Cola (3), Andy Warhol, 1962

for eleanor, Corita Kent, 1964

Kent chose to work mainly in silkscreen printing (serigraph), which is accessible and affordable. She created almost 800 different designs. The work is included in many, many museums and galleries. The Hammer Museum has extensive resources, including a vast digital archive of her work. The Corita Art Center preserves and promotes her works, and mission. You may want to check out their Corita 101 art videos based on her book Learning by Heart: Teachings to Free the Creative Spirit.

She, too, became a popular figure in America culture: she was featured on the cover of Newsweek in 1967. She designed the US Post Office Love stamp in 1985, of which more than 700 million were sold.

‘Love’ stamp, Sister Corita, US Post Office, 1985

Do we call this pop art timeless? It seems we are still, unfortunately, struggling with the same issues that Kent and Warhol explored. By using popular culture images, in simple, engaging designs, they expressed their beliefs. In different ways, they were challenging the status quo, and society’s continuing obsession with celebrity, material goods and consumption – at the expense of peace and justice for all.

It’s a message worthy of re-consideration. Rule # 10 gives us the impetus and permission to make the necessary changes to create a more equitable world for everyone.

We can’t look away anymore

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Have you ever seen a work of art that’s almost too difficult to view? (I am not referring to work that is badly executed, or manipulative, or too clever by half, but an artwork worthy of attention.)

I felt that way when I saw The Hanging Tree by Joe Minter at the de Young Museum in San Francisco.

The Hanging Tree, 1996, Joe Minter, welded found steel

The museum information label read:

de Young Museum, San Francisco

I was overwhelmed by the historical facts presented. I focused on the shadows at the base of the artwork, not wanting to accept what I had read, and what was before me. I attempted to process the information, as I was deeply shocked by the facts. There were recorded lynchings as recently as 1981???

I was also overwhelmed by the beauty and integrity of the sculpture in response to the brutality suffered – unfathomable events, repeated hundreds of times, with little or no repercussions to the perpetrators. And yet – despite these unspeakable acts, this violent history towards African Americans – Joe Minter says We have went through tribulation, but from that experience we learn patience and develop the strength of hope.

The Hanging Tree (shadow), Joe Minter, 1996, welded found steel

This sculpture was part of the exhibition Revelations: Art from the African American South at the de Young Museum from June 2017 until the end of March 2018.

Even as I write this blog, my heart rate is elevated. It’s difficult, and challenging to face the reality of our society’s inhumanity and ongoing injustices. But – face it, and act to change it – we must. We can’t look the other way.

Loss, …and change?

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It’s a time of great loss. The death of the American painter, Emma Amos , adds another drop into the ocean of sadness threatening to flood our world.

Black Dog Blues, Emma Amos, 1983 artnews image

Emma Amos (American, born 1938). Preparing for a Face Lift, 1981. Etching and crayon, 8 ¼ × 7 ¾ in. (21 × 19.7 cm). Courtesy of Emma Amos. © Emma Amos; courtesy of the artist and RYAN LEE, New York. Licensed by VAGA, New York

Baby, Emma Amos, 1966, oil on canvas, 45″ x 50″

Artnews has prepared a brief slideshow of a few of her works. Ms Amos worked across several media, from drawing and painting to printmaking, tapestry and installation work.

Emma Amos was an artist, wife, mother, and (sometimes) reluctant activitist. She was a Guerrilla Girl! Guerrilla Girls work anonymously to expose gender and ethnic bias, but Ms Amos did say I was once a member of a very famous clandestine women’s group that worked at night and did not ever go out without masks on our faces.

Howard Cotter’s article in the New York Times Is worth a read. It’s a factual, insightful and compassionate summary of a very accomplished artist. He points out the significance of paintings like Tightrope, Equals and Work Suit.

Tightrope, Emma Amos, 1994, acrylic on linen with African fabric borders, 82″ x 58″

Equals, Emma Amos, acrylic on linen fabric, image transfer, African fabric borders, 1992

Work Suit, 1994 Acrylic on linen, with African fabric borders and photo transfer, 74″ x 54″ Image courtesy Ryan Lee Gallery

If you’re like me, you’re wondering why you’ve never heard of Emma Amos, or seen her work. She wondered the same thing. The ARTnews article about her career quotes her: I wake up in the morning and say, ‘I have one piece at the Museum of Modern Art. I wonder, Is it still there?’ ‘You know, I wonder if I’ve been deaccessioned,’ she said. ‘And I wonder how come nobody knows who I am?’

As we all know, it’s time for that to change.

Wow! Who made that?

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You know you’ve found something special, when the same artist takes you by surprise on different occasions. I remember the first time I saw Lee Bontecou’s work at MoMA. I stood in the middle of the gallery, looking up, gobsmacked. I said to one of my art friends, Look at that! Who is it?

Without a moment’s hesitation S. said, That’s Lee Bontecou. Isn’t she great?

Untitled, Lee Bontecou, 1980-1998, MoMA

Untitled (detail), Lee Bontecou, 1980-1998, MoMA

I was only slightly, and fleetingly, embarrassed that I wasn’t familiar with this artist, and her work. Lee Bontecou was born in 1931 in Rhode Island, U.S.A. She was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship in 1957; in 1966 she won the first prize from the National Institute of Arts and Letters. There have been major solo retrospectives of her work in the last twenty years, including at MoMA / MCA Chicago / Hammer Museum in 2003/4. In 2014 the Menil Collection in Houston had a exhibition of her drawings.

Last October (2019), at the newly renovated MoMa, I came around a gallery corner and encountered this:

Untitled, Lee Bontecou, 1961, MoMa

Bear in mind this sculpture is about 5 feet wide by 5 feet high and protrudes from the wall. It is an arresting presence that stopped me, and demanded my attention. The darkness of the central void, the somber palette, and the varying depths and shapes encompassed in the piece make it extremely powerful.

I had to check the label, as neither my friends (S. and J.) nor I recognized the work. I was pleased to read Lee Bontecou. This sculpture cemented my admiration for Ms Bontecou’s work. The label explained that it is constructed of old conveyer belts that the artist salvaged from a laundry below her East Village apartment. The curators suggest that the piece expresses anxiety, as it was created when the U.S.A. entered the Vietnam War, the Berlin Wall construction began, and the American tensions with Cuba were at fever pitch.

Here is a short video from MoMA highlighting Bontecou’s piece within the show Women Artists and Postwar Abstraction. (You can skip ahead to the 4 minute mark to hear specifically about this sculpture.)

Untitled (detail), Lee Bontecou, 1961, MoMa

The details are exquisite, don’t you think? The copper stitching appears fine and delicate, yet it holds together the muscular, voluminous forms.

Untitled (detail), Lee Bontecou, 1961, MoMa

Bontecou said, My concern is to build things that express our relation to this country…..to other worlds to glimpse some of the fear, hope, ugliness, beauty, and mystery that exists in us all and hangs over all the young people today.

It’s not surprising that the work is strong – it expresses much of the human condition. Despite being 60 years old, it is still relevant today.

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