Saturday, January 28, 2017

A Friday in Chicago + Trump's Shadow

A forlorn, freezing fellow paced about across the street from Grant Park in the bitter cold yesterday with a placard that read "Stop Sexism/Stop Trump." In addition to the day's extreme temperature difference (last Saturday, it was in the 60s and sunny compared to a barely-reached, raw 30), his lone presence made a striking contrast in light of the Women's March on Chicago, which drew 250,000 people in support. A friend showed me a great photo she'd taken of the crowd that day, the Trump Tower rising in the background. The protest in Chicago was said to have been the largest in the city's history.

Earlier, this same friend and I visited the nearby Art Institute. Many Chicago museums are free to Illinois residents at this time of year and it was certainly a treat to wander the warm halls gratis. Our timing was slightly off because some exhibitions had been either recently deinstalled or were under installation. So we eavesdropped on a docent lecture about how northern light inspired certain painters. We also browsed a textile/tapestry show, the new Islamic Art gallery, and the museum's collection of Modern chairs created by such famed designers as Charles and Ray Eames and Eero Saarinen.

At the Cultural Center, only two shows were up; others were similarly being installed or deinstalled. In the Sydney R. Yates Gallery (my personal favorite room in the whole place), they had the marvelous doors Eugene Eda had painted for Malcolm X College. I wonder if the Trump protester had a chance to visit this exhibition, whether to get warm or get inspired.

We liked Dutch artist Viviane Sassen's just-opened show, Umbra, at Columbia College's Museum of Contemporary Photography. Many of the images were startling, requiring a second or third look to determine what it was we were actually seeing. The artist played with light and shadow (umbra) in order to draw attention to Jung's views on the shadow aspect of our psyches.

It made me wonder about President Trump's shadow side. Is he really just a complete shadow? According to Jung, "where there is light, there must also be shadow." To the extent that he is aware of this dichotomy, Trump gleefully embraces his shadow. But I fear that his is a shadow with no hint of light.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

Agnes Martin at the Guggenheim

A couple of days ago, I went with a friend to see the Agnes Martin show at the Guggenheim in New York, which originated at the Tate Modern in London. I've been to both of these museums often enough to guess that the latter was probably a better place for Martin's gentle squares, grids, stripes and luminous colors, which demand quiet contemplation, solitude if possible and natural light (not the CFL/fluorescence that washes out everyone and everything). There are places that do justice to Martin's work; the Guggenheim is not one of them. Even Peggy Guggenheim, the founder Solomon's niece, referred to the building as " uncle's garage." Although Peggy didn't collect Agnes Martin, Martin's works would have benefited enormously by being shown at Peggy's Venice Museum - a lovelier setting would be hard to find (more water, more light), except perhaps for one venue I describe below.

I've long felt that the Guggenheim in New York is a good place to visit for the "building itself" experience. Frank Lloyd Wright - its architect - would have agreed: he maintained that the spiraling bricks and mortar were/should be the highlight and not the art. It is hard for the art to hold its own in this structure; perhaps the best way is to embrace its oddity, i.e. don't fight with it and don't affix square-framed art to the sloping walls. I agree with a friend who commented that it always appeared as though the art was "clinging to the walls." I have seen great shows there, though: the James Turrell show was fantastic, other-worldly; filling the entire space with ever-changing and magical light. Another good exhibition was the Cai Guo-Qiang show, featuring hanging cars and stuffed snarling tigers. In both cases, the building co-existed comfortably with the art.

In January 2016, I eagerly showed up at the doors of the new Whitney, but it was closed that day (a Tuesday, so now I know). From what I have seen online and been told by friends who have visited, it is quite magnificent, lots of natural light, views of the Hudson River. I think that Agnes Martin - a former resident of the artists' colony on Coenties Slip on the East River - might have preferred this place for this retrospective of her work.

I loved the obsessive gentleness of all of the pieces in the Agnes Martin show, but one painting stood out for me: Gratitude, both the beautiful composition of it and the intention behind it. Nancy Princenthal's excellent biography of Agnes Martin, Mary Lance's documentary, Agnes Martin: With My Back to the World, and Agnes and Me, the memoir of one of Martin's confidants, all shed light on the enigmatic artist. To really see her, though, you need to get close to the works, breathe them in, and then step back to fully appreciate her greater vision.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Walking Along, Singing a Song

Throughout this year - and especially lately - I've been thinking that what the world needs is more musicals, or rather, the world of the musical in which unfettered happiness and joy (not hate and rage) burst forth naturally from ordinary conversations or walks in the park. The characters may be heartbroken, overjoyed, or rhapsodic all in quick succession, but the one thing they are not is malevolent.

I confess here to disliking most musicals, though there are exceptions: Cabaret, The Sound of Music, The Wizard of Oz, Singing in the Rain, West Side Story, Funny Face - the last three I think because of the dancing (more on that later).

Recently, a friend and I went to the Oriental Theater to see Fun Home, a Broadway musical performed on stage in a beautiful, historic venue in Chicago. I enjoyed it, but it did not move me like the ones mentioned above. Why not? Though the story was good and the music, too, I couldn't relate to it on the emotional level that was required.

Yesterday, another friend and I saw the new film La La Land at a different historical venue. This time, I WAS moved and enchanted by the Cinemascope, the color, the singing, the dancing, the story. All in one package. In a similar fashion, Zadie Smith's latest novel, Swing Time, grabbed me and wouldn't let go until I reluctantly finished. It's about the power of dance, but a lot more, too.

Naive yes, but I want to enter and live in these worlds of song and dance - at least for a couple of hours at a time - after the soul-killing events and deaths of 2016. I want the opportunity to believe that everything will work out fine if you can just sing and dance your way to the lovely resolution of Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse in that beautiful Central Park scene in The Bandwagon (1953), where the troubles of the world finally disappear and what remains is the sublime joy of being alive.

                       Happy Holidays and here's to a peaceful 2017~

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Neutrinos in a New Light - Art at Fermilab

The proof that mysterious, invisible neutrinos exist lies in the "aftermath" of their collisions with other particles and substances. Ghost-like, neutrinos can pass through objects, leaving a mark that the naked eye cannot see, thus inspiring both scientists and artists. Things we cannot see leave the most indelible impression.

The result of  Ellen Sandor and (art)n's year-long artist residency at Fermilab is a fascinating exhibition entitled Neutrinos in a New Light, on view now through March 17, 2017. Art and science collide gently to form elegant PHSColograms - Sandor's term for the synthesis of photography, holography, sculpture, and computer graphics. The works in this show the AIDS and Ebola viruses as well as the brain of an autistic person; some pieces highlight the influence artists such as Alberto Giacometti, Jackson Pollock, and David Smith have had on Sandor and her collaborators. A friend of the artist commented that the art captured the "tragic beauty" of life. Perhaps my favorite piece was The Magnificent Micelle, 2013

Physicists and art lovers, young and old enthusiastically engaged with the virtual reality component of the show in order to create their own 3D art. I was excited by the way art once again enters into everything, everywhere if you let it.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Things I've Enjoyed This Week

Despite recent personal sadnesses and the general Weltschmerz, these things have made me smile this week:

1. The super moon.

2. The Nollywood portrait exhibition at Columbia College's Museum of Contemporary Photography.

3. Beautiful, atypical Chicago weather.

4. The lunch special at Thai Spoon.

5. The Norman Lewis painting exhibition at the Chicago Cultural Center.

6. Michelle Dockery in Good Behavior (because where else will you see Lady Mary toting a stainless steel shotgun, grifting with glee, and smoking meth from a hand-fashioned pipe?)

7. Jo Malone's new fall fragrance, Basil and Neroli.

8. Being immersed in Diana Thater's hypnotic animal world at the Museum of Contemporary Art.

9. Going behind the scenes at Susanin's Auction House.

10. Discovering Open Books, a non-profit bookstore promoting literacy.

11. Being tempted to visit Los Angeles (finally) by the lovely portrait food critic Jonathan Gold paints in City of Gold.

12. Being reminded of the delight that is Buenos Aires, one of my favorite cities, in the moving documentary Our Last Tango.

13. Thinking about going to see Morrissey on the 27th.

14. Ha Jin's The Boat Rocker.