Cyclopean Design

Myrtle Cyclops (200) by Terry Martin

I recently visited the Long Beach Museum of Art. There were plenty of delightful and inspiring works on display, which I hope to share with you over the next week or so. However, today I want to share this piece by Australian woodworker, Terry Martin, part of the LBMA's "Tree" exhibition.

I love the color and texture. The shape is a bit creepy, otherworldly, as if touched by sorcery. Well, the artistry and craft behind the working of such a piece is indeed a type of magic. ;-)

Here's a vid of Terry Martin turning a piece of wood.

Enjoy!!!

A Stroll Around the Garden

The Sculpture Garden at the Norton Simon Museum

I was able to visit the Norton Simon Museum for the first time in a few months. The water lilies were in full bloom, as were a wide variety of other gorgeous flowers. From yellow and orange to purple and green, a stroll around the pond, through the trees, around the sculptures, was a delight for the senses.

So, I figured that I would share a few photos with you all. ;-)

Looking across the pond towards Aristide Maillol's River

Aristide Maillol's Mountain

Enjoy!!!

Alebrijes

Alebrije (1977) by Miguel Linares, on display at the Museum of Man in San Diego

Over the weekend, I took a trip down to San Diego. Since I was in the neighborhood, a quick visit to Balboa Park and some of its fine museums was on the schedule. There were plenty of interesting pieces on view, but, today, let's look at a few examples of Mexican folk art, the Alebrijes, colorful nightmare creatures given form in paper mache.

Created by Pedro Linares in the 1930s, these weird creatures were inspired by a fever dream, in which the grotesque critters frolicked within a dream forest and hallucinatory clouds. Throughout the bizarre vision, the creatures kept on repeating the nonsense word "Alebrije". So, upon recovering from the illness, Linares fashioned their likeness out of paper mache, brightly painted.

The tradition has since been passed on through the Linares family and has become a popular form of Mexican folk art, especially in Oaxaca.

Alebrijes by Ricardo and Miguel Linares, on display at the Mingei Museum

Enjoy!!!

Three Views of the Bad Dog

Bad Dog by Richard Jackson, on view at the Orange County Museum of Art, at twilight

Bad Dog by Richard Jackson, on a hazy day

Bad Dog by Richard Jackson, in the middle of a sunny day

Enjoy!!!

On the Hunt

Detail of Diana (1894) by Frederick MacMonnies

This past weekend, I got to visit the Huntington Museum, strolling through their collection of American art. I'm especially fond of the sculptures of the collection. I've shown a few of them with you all over the past few years, but the MacMonnies Diana has yet to grace Paideia.

And, now, the situation has been rectified. ;-)

Enjoy!!!

Monumentality of Everyday Objects

The Flashlight (1981) by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen
Campus of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas
Height: 38 ft.; Weight: 74,000 lbs.

Last year, I had the opportunity to visit Las Vegas. Being a Claes Oldenburg enthusiast, I absolutely had to visit a couple of his sculptures in the area.

First, I went to visit the Flashlight at UNLV. It's an interesting experience viewing this work, seeing it at a distance but not realizing the full height of the piece until you get right up to it. Approaching from the nearby stairway and ascending to its base level, the full monumental quality is impressive. It may be a giant flashlight, but the scale makes it transcend mere commonality; like a Roman column or Egyptian obelisk, this sculpture has a commanding presence.

Then, I headed over to the City Center to see the Typewriter Eraser (Scale X). Although not as imposing as the Flashlight, this piece was more humorous, more dynamic. Amid the towering hotels and bustling crowds of the Strip, the Typewriter Eraser seemed at home, colorful and whimsical.

Typewriter Eraser, Scale X (1998-99) by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen
Las Vegas City Center
Height: 19 ft.; Weight: 4 tons
1 in an edition of 3

Fun stuff!!!

Morbid and Bizarre

Detail of The Innsmouth Look by Russ Lukich

I recently had the opportunity to visit CoproGallery's current show, "Conjoined III: The Final Chapter," a group exhibit curated by Chet Zar. It was a ghoulishly good time.

I figured that I would share a few images with you all.

H.P. Lovecraft's Hound of Tindalos by Dave Grasso

Yeah, there were a few Lovecraftian-inspired works on display, plenty of occult imagery, and more Pop Surrealistic visions than you'll find with a full flask of adrenochrome. ;-)

Detail of Weird Science by Mike Regan

This exhibit runs until February 9, 2013.

Minimal Words

Die (exhibition maquette, 1967) by Tony Smith, at the Orange County Museum of Art

Today

This Is All

That

Time

Will Let Me

Tell

Detail on Smoke (1967, fabricated 2005) by Tony Smith, at LACMA

;-)

Dancing Ganesh

 Dancing Ganesh, the Lord of Obstacles

Bangladesh, Dinajpur District

11th-12th century

Los Angeles Museum of Art



Starting off my year-long photography project, I figured it would be auspicious to showcase Ganesh, the Lord of Obstacles. I have two reasons for this. First, it stays to the theme set last time, when I featured a few photos of Shiva Nataraja for the New Year, thereby establishing a Hindu spin to the calendar change. Second, since I'm trying to get this blog back into steady production and high quality, it seems only appropriate to honor a being who legend claims can remove difficulties from my path or, alternatively, set obstacles before me that will help me grow as a thinker and writer.

Moreover, although I did not intend for this to be an “Art” blog, featuring artworks has been an essential part of Paideia since I began, nearly two years ago. So, it seems fitting that the first of 365 photo posts features a lovely work from my local museum. Yeah, we'll see plenty of the normal fare, landscapes and still life, scenes from my daily travels.

But, for today, we have Ganesh. And you can't beat a dancing elephant for an interesting way to start a project. ;-)

Quiet Nights, Gentle Sights

A view of the crescent moon, waxing, over the California Bank in Long Beach
Marlin by Brough Miller at the bottom left

I'm feeling a bit better now. A few days of rest has done some good. Nevertheless, I'm just not feeling in the creative mood tonight. I think that I'll call in an early night.

Yet, I do want to wish everybody some happy holidays. I would do it with a festive, seasonal post, but my energy isn't up to the full, exuberant blogging that would be required to do it right. Maybe tomorrow. . .

In any case, here are a few nice photos that capture my current mood.

Night and day, day and night. . .

Under the Dove Tower at the Skirball

Enjoy!!!

I Got Nuthin'

Peering through a window into an empty library


For real, I got nothing!!!

Actually, if it were not so late into the night and if my mind were less befuddled, then I could have probably come up with something cool to share with you all. After all, it's George Crumb's birth date.

Well, I guess a snip of Black Angels is appropriate to the Halloween season, cool but creepy!!!

Devils may be horrific, but dark angels evoke a dread most sublime. ;-)

Archangel Raphael (c.1600) from Naples, Italy. On view at LACMA.


So, let's listen to some music.

Beyond the Beautiful Crowd

Tim Kelly Lifeguard Memorial statue at the Hermosa Beach pier, facing the Strand's nightlife district

All of the beach cities in the Los Angeles South Bay have a peculiar feel at night. They have bustling and busy centers of people partying, socializing, and drinking late into the night, filling the quiet hours with laughter, raucous sounds, and music of all types. However, when one wanders just a short distance away to the beach, leaving the lights and crowds behind, the Pacific Ocean's constant murmur washes away the noise.

It is an interesting contrast, a little creepy. It makes you feel small and transient.

But if the sublime loneliness of the beach is too much to handle, the shimmering lights of the party places are just a short stroll away. ;-)

Half Simpleton, Half God

Late Summer view of the Lily Pond at the Norton Simon Museum


It always amuses me that, whenever I take a vacation from the daily blogging, my readership seems to soar in terms of pageviews. Sometimes, it is because something about which I have written enters into wider consideration. This time it seems just random. It's curious, but I'm happy that some new readers have stumbled upon this humble blog.

As the photo above indicates, I went to visit the Norton Simon Museum over the weekend. They have a pretty good exhibit on still lifes, entitled "Significant Objects: The Spell of Still Life." Now, I'm not a fan of that genre of painting, but it was interesting looking at the huge collection on display, everything from Dutch tulip drawings to Claes Oldenburg's giant soft ketchup bottle. Yeah, it was comprehensive. ;-)

Hopefully, I'll get to write up a review of the show. It'll be tricky, since there is no photography allowed, but most of the images are available on the internet or from my own collection of photographed works. But for now, here's a Lipchitz:

Figure (1926-30) by Jacques Lipchitz

And, for half of this post, let's celebrate the birth date of Anton Bruckner, who was born on this date in 1824. Does this have anything to do with still lifes or my increased vacation readership? No, but incoherence is the name of today's game. ;-)

In Chains

Detail of Zenobia in Chains (1859) by Harriet Goodhue Hosmer

Offered for your consideration. ;-)

Five Young Women

Five Statues of Young Women at the Getty Villa
(Reproductions of Roman bronze sculptures from the first century A.D. found at the Villa dei Papiri)

Nothing much for today. But here's a photo of the Getty Villa that I recently visited.

It was a wonderful trip. And an awesome day.

Enjoy!!!

Muses Work All Day Long. . .

Detail of Dancer Taking a Bow (The Star) (1877) by Edgar Degas

". . . And then at night get together and dance."

That's one of my favorite quotes about the Arts. It's especially appropriate for today, on the birth date of Edgar Degas, born in 1834, one of my favorite Impressionists. No other artist has captured the beauty and grace of dancing as well.

It's all about motion and the transience of the moment. The way in which the figures are positioned, the flashes of color, the evocation of space, these elements create a visual rhythm that carries the eye across the canvas, as if, through the act of seeing, the viewer is a participant in the dance itself.

The Tub (1888) by Edgar Degas


It's a lyrical vision that can also be seen in his sculptural works. Even something as placid as taking a bath becomes a study in motion, a languid twist and stretch, with a natural grace and an inviting poise.

Humble Earthen Vessels

Detail of Teapot Peddlers (2011) by Gerit Grimm

I recently visited the Long Beach Museum of Art and saw an excellent ceramic exhibit, featuring the works of Gerit Grimm. The show, entitled "Beyond the Figurine", is comprised of these contemporary works that were inspired by the museum's collection of classic British and French figurines, with styles varying from the Rococo to Victorian bric-a-brac, which are also on display upon the nearby walls.

It's interesting to see how Grimm reinterprets the implied narrative of the figurine style. Her works capture the light-hearted feel of the traditional pieces, but convey a deeper sense of mystery or weirdness. The strange cat-faced heraldry, the diverse peddlers, and the circular gatherings, these elements create the feeling that Grimm has developed her own fantasy world. It's an interesting vision.

Detail of Monument (2011) by Gerit Grimm


This show will be ending on July 8. I definitely recommend checking it out before it closes.

Sights to Delight

Sculpture of a Feathered Serpent from the Mayan civilization at Chichen Itza, AD 850-1100, on view in LACMA's "Children of the Plumed Serpent" exhibit.

I have been fortunate over the past few weeks in being able to visit various art venues, museums and galleries. Although I plan on writing about a few of them individually, I figured that sharing a few images would make for a fun post.

So, I have recently gone viewing in four of the city's cultural centers: the Miracle Mile, Culver City, Bergamot Station, and Long Beach. It's been a great start to the Summer.

Midnight Ride (2006) by Deborah Kupinsky, on view at the Long Beach Museum of Art


Lots on interesting works on display. I'm especially happy to have visited some venues down in Long Beach, an area that I enjoy but rarely visit.

Never Twice the Same

Three Squares Gyratory (1971) by George Rickey, with the Getty Museum in the background.

Why do I so love visiting museums, art galleries, and botanic gardens?

The easy answer would be that I like looking a beautiful objects. That's true, but there's more to my adoration. Perhaps, it's about change. The concept is pretty easy to grasp when you think about the gardens; each month has a different set of flowers, different colors, and different scents. Although it's the exact same place that I might have visited a few weeks back, the subtle changes make for a vivid new experience.

Likewise, the way in which art galleries cycle through exhibits, it requires effort to see the same show twice. Yet, with most museums, asides from temporary exhibitions, the collection doesn't really change. So, why do I get such a thrill from visiting and revisiting such venues?

Detail of Dancer Taking a Bow (1877) by Edgar Degas


Because I and my circumstances change, the cultural venues speak to me in different ways, capture my imagination afresh with novel insights. My moods and interests shift from day to day, week to week, altering me in subtle but significant manners. Just as the changing of flowers makes it so that a botanical garden is never twice the same, so too is it that my personal changes make each viewing of a stable museum collection a unique experience.

But You Didn't, Did You?

For the Love of God (2007) by Damien Hirst

My tastes in art are very inclusive, liberal in regards to craftsmanship, and friendly towards conceptual experimentation. Yes, I love traditional representational artistry, but I am equally as enamored by intellectually engaging innovations. At the very least, I'm willing to keep an open mind towards the work, listen to the general critical assessment, and, with as much empathy as I can muster, consider the creative process that led to the creation of such a work.

But the works of Damien Hirst have never won me over. I find their concepts to be purest banality. Sure, I love a good vanitas, but Hirst's works are more about spectacle and sensation than contemplations on mortality, regardless of what he titles the pieces. Well, what's wrong with a bit of showmanship in the art? Nothing, but the flash ought to reinforce the work's premise. Instead, Hirst's stuff is shallow razzle dazzle, with a "concept" that feels tacked on to provide a fig leaf of aesthetic legitimacy.

In all honesty, it feels like total hucksterism, a big scam. I've racked my mind trying to see what so many insightful and erudite critics find of value, but have come up with nothing. In terms of originality, personal craftsmanship, composition, beauty and the sublime, Hirst's art is a failure, completely without authenticity or charm.

Detail of The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living (1991) by Damien Hirst


But, if it would earn me vast sums of wealth, I'd pickle a big fish and come up with profound sounding mumbo jumbo too. So, in amazed respect for Damien Hirst's financial artistry, let's wish him a Happy Birthday.