Showing posts with label Museum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Museum. Show all posts



There was a moment of silence when my friend asked me why Egyptian art? Why a people 5,000 years ago whose language obsolete?

Nothing is more striking than looking at this picture of head of Ramsess II lying on the rubbles. It is sad, mysterious, and marvelous despite of the damage.

If we obliterate the future and the past, the present moment stands in empty space, outside life and its chronology, outside time and independent of it.

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I was born at the end of the Cultural Revolution (CR) in China. Like a typical single child in my generation, my understanding of CR could only come from other's experience. The source, however, has not always been readily available for years. My parents have been silent about their roles and life in CR period. (They are more willing to tell me the suffering of starvation in the first three years of 1960's.) What's more, they have successfully shielded away from any possibility that I could have to get some stories from my relatives or their friends.

The young generation grew up in a vacuum of sterility. This official history books are shy about China's past after 1949. In particular, the political turbulence and the national fever of the CR are totally eliminated as if the history has vapored in the air.

The intellectuals and artists, who had been become more active in the 80's or 90's, are getting older and producing less. Furthermore, the outputs are not even among different genre. The non-fiction novels and report-a-larges were popular in the late 80's. In particular some biographies written by those who went to "Bei Da Huang" (i.e. Siberia-equivalent in China) amazed me in their determination, almost bordering stubbornness. But those authors were aware of the the great gap between the relative comfortable city life where they used to live and the barbarous no-where. Even though a lot of them eventually found the way out and went back to cities, their views have not always been negative: It was the period when their energy was the highest, the place where comradeship was wrought to last through hardship and where they may have their first love.

There are less movies about CR since it is a more accessible media compared to the intellectual-favored books. A lot of the movies, which could not pass the censorship, won awards abroad. But nothing is more scarce compared to the CR-related art during the post Cultural Revolution period. After all, movies and novels show a process or a period. Within it, violence and injustice can be mellowed down by romance, love or even happy endings. The paintings, which only capture a state of being or a particular moment, cannot find a middle ground to speak both the consciousness of the artist while passing the censorship of Culture Bureau.

Because of the scarce of reflective works, the current exhibition "Art and China's Revolution" in Asia Society gives an introspection by showing the artworks from that period. I have not seen such an exhibition in China, and probably it will never happen in China during my life time. It was not pleasant, in fact excruciating because the artworks are neither true nor beautiful, yet they were created by the best artists of the country. I begin to ask: are they art?

Artistically, they were technically wonderful. Some of the oil paintings show the influence of Russian school in the way of depicting light and arranging subject matters. The Father, one of the most celebrated paintings in China, reminds me of Fechin with regard to light and color palette. But Fechin's succinct brush strokes would be too avant-guade thus too Western for China.

However, what strikes me the most was most of the paintings were historical paintings and depict events and movement that led to the Cultural Revolution. In one example, a painting praised the fruit of the "Great Leap Forward" movement with Mao in the field of experimental wheat field. In another, Mao was with the coal miners including a female worker. These were painted by the same painters who, during the first three years of the 1960's, read in starvation the news of new record of unit field production from the newspaper daily, the same painters who lost their wok because all irons went to some backyard steel furnace. They became waste since regular people didn't know the metallurgy, but the waste was still counted as the national steel production in order to catch up with Britain in 15 years.

Have the artists lost their consciousness to become one of the feverish or were they doing it because that's the only way to survive? I don't know. But it is shameful to look at them as Chinese. If Germans can spent years self-criticizing their past in WW2, why can't Chinese, from the top to the individual, look straight back at that period and most importantly make sure the mistake will not happen again? Milan Kundera said: The basis of shame is not some personal mistake of ours, but the ignominy, the humiliation we feel that we must be what we are without any choice in the matter, and that this humiliation is seen by everyone.

It is true that that "Da Zi Bao" (big character posters) are more rebellious and violent. But when artworks, in the disguise of surface beauty and technical excellence, stop to speak truth from the heart: It is a revolting product: it shrills people not only because artists behind the canvas were institutionalized, but also because the arts became part of the machine.

Ironically, in those propaganda paintings, there were no individuality except Chairman Mao and other leaders. They looked perfect, happy, young and vivacious. Their hands point forward or raise up as if the underlining movement was getting higher and faster without a check.

Now as China gets stronger and bigger, there is another wave of extreme patriotism national wide. They broke in and vandalized French-owned chain stores because the Olympic torch relay was disturbed (by Chinese dissidents) in France. There is a growing anomosity toward the western and several books are published with simily titles like "China can say NO", "China has to say NO" etc. The government silently approves and assist the trend because Chinese are too easy to confuse the love of motherland with the love of government. And again the youth is at the front of the new trend. They have marched in the official sponsored demonstration, arms high and spirit higher.

This reminds me again Milan Kundera in the book "Unbearable Lightless of the Being": Behind Communism, Fascism, behind all occupations and invasions lurks a more basic, pervasive evil and that the image of that evil was a parade of people marching by with raised fists and shouting identical syllables in unison.

History should not be repeated, it must not be. And Chinese, especially the young generation should ruminate the past, even if it is revolting.

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Perhaps it was too ambitious at the beginning, a design in the second half of Gilded Age when everything should be grand and opulent.

The original design of the Brooklyn Museum by McKim, Mead and White would outshine Louvre and Met in its scale, but once the city of Brooklyn merged with Manhattan, the other side of the East River would lose its competitiveness and the final result is partially sweet for its grand facade, but partially sad because it is in my opinion a forever symbol of an unfulfilled dream.

The new entrance, sleek, modern and inviting in its own way, does not add too much exhibition space. I always hope that at least the west side of the building can be built to match the single finger-shape of the building on the east side, thus the museum can have two Beaux-Art courts.

In the era of shining clad, my wish may be too absurd to the public taste. (The only recently built public building with classical design that I have seen is the symphony hall in Nashville, TN. ) For me, it is not about the Roman classics or nobility, it is the historical integrity, a chance to make the dream true.

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Among all the paintings representing American Barbizon and Tonalism paintings in the ongoing "Path to Impressionism" exhibition at Newark Art Museum, Bruce Crane's "A November Scene" is the one which speaks to me the most.

Everything in the picture is subdued: color, form and subject. The scene is not beautiful itself, but evocative, with a smell of decaying leaves over the chilled water. It is a scene of the last days of New England autumn, which although I have never experienced, I feel associated with the spare air in the Western Pennsylvania where I had been living for the past 6 years.

It was not barbaric as some depicted by Enneking, since there are human traces such as wood piles, deserted and almost ineligible, in the middle ground or a stone wall, which visually and possibly physically blend into the brownish yellowish surrounding. Nature, once gain, took over where once habituated by early New England settlers.

The hushed scenery is less idyllic than what it looks like on the surface. The painting was painted in 1895, at the height of the Gilded Age. Between 1865 to 1905, while the population in rural area increased little, the population in metro areas increased 20 times. In particular, New England was proved to be too rugged to be farmed and thus became uninhabited in its rural area. In fact, New England, for a while, became the factory for clothing and shoes manufacturing. Gone with the rural habitation was the simple and self-reliant Protestant life style and moral virtues.

Ironically, if Bruce Crane intended to use the solitude of the nature itself to prove it was the industrialization that deprived human to get embraced by the natural beauty, the robber Barons, who praised and advocated his works, didn't think so. Among them, George Hearn made a fortune from dry good retails. William Evans was the president for the Mills & Gibb firm. while Henry Chapman was the prominent banker and stockbroker from Brooklyn. For them, the economic brushwork by Crane recalls repose and tranquility that they would associated before industrialization. The suggestive mood and ethereal atmosphere were perfect for recollection and recount of the past.

A close examination shows that Crane used impasto and glazing to great extent. Crane first placed a thin layer of paint for the background (the remote trees are almost formless). Then he built up the painting by brushed or dotted thick layers of paints within limited range and hues. The surface of the canvas at the foreground is as rugged as the landscape itself. The brown glazing, seemingly randomly disposed, gives a harmonious yet subtle veil to the scenery. It is true that not painting from the plein-air but from the memory gave Crane freedom to manipulate the painting based on his will, but it is his determination and imaginative power that gave a could-be-depressive scene romantic and poetic rendering.

I stood there long and felt I was dissolved in the field. The soil is infertile, the field rocky, the weather freezing. Yet the sentimental pastoral beauty arouse strong heartbeats for those who had lived it and lost it. Almost, I think, everyone has it in his heart: somber yet bitter-sweet, a spiritual New England forgone.

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While browsing the website of Hudson River Museum, Eric and I found an attached house museum, "Glenview" which is regarded as one of the finest examples of Aesthetic Movement interior decoration from the last quarter of the 19th century. Last Saturday a train of MTA Metro North took us to Yonkers and once again we were rewarded with a splendid river view along the railroad for a pleasant day trip.

Eric and I were greeted by a museum staff who told us there is no admission fee between Thanksgiving to New Years. We headed directly toward the Glenview house.

Built in 1877 for John Bond Trevor family, the house is a fine example of high Victorian style with 26 rooms. As a visitor who took 30 minute train ride from Grand Central, what interested me most at the beginning was not the scale or the style, but the suburban sensibilities associated with the house. Situated on a bluff overseeing the river, Glenview is at the suburb of a suburb. The rapid development of railroads after 1860's made it possible that wealthy families could buy a dream home of pastoral treats with easy commute to the city. In 1881, downtown Yonkers station had 6 morning trains between 7 and 9 AM, John Trever, who spent three quarters of the year (except winter) at Glenview and had an office at 40 Wall St. must be a regular commuter.

Architect Charles Clinton's design utilized what nature offers to the house. The piazza, which once extended to the entire west facade, linked the house to the river. The house, unlike the city block which is usually 25 by 100, is so wide and spacious that the kitchen is on the first floor.

Entering the hall decorated with encaustic tile floor, the arrangement of the rooms is similar to that of Ballatine house in Newark Art Museum: On the left is the library and right is the parlor. The library is decorated with ebony furniture. Oriental motifs mingle with Italian-style tile inset. The notion of affluence and social statues in Victorian period, is not only apparent in the quality, but also by the quantity and its cosmopolitan assembly of everything that was popular. But other rooms, probably redecorated by the museum, show a more consistent decorative style which began to appear in mid 1880's. I was fascinated by the parlor room which was unified by the color and patterns used in wall paper, ceiling stencils and fabrics. It is reported that Trevor brought Leissner and Louis to complete the ornate ceiling stencils and Daniel Pabst to create the mantels and a dining room sideboard. All were photographed by the brother of Albert Bierstadt,Edward Bierstadt in the book "Homes on the Hudson" published in 1885.

The shimmering yet restrained wallpaper can also be found in the sitting room next to the library in the form of sun flowers. The stenciled leaves, flowers and branches on the ceiling become an abstraction of the nature, echoing the spring scene through the bay window.

Paintings by the contemporary artists such as Cropsey, Hart or Robert Swain Gifford do not take the spotlight. They are hung as they would be in a real family home, an integral part of the house decoration and a notion of owner's tastes.

Up the stairway which is on the right behind the billiard room, I saw the beautiful laylight which was restored by the museum with artificial light. The stain glass panel recalls the beautiful tile floor in the hall way.

The second floor is reconstructed like a traditional exhibition place. I didn't find the paintings by George Inness or John Francis Murphy as seen in their website, but there are paintings by best landscape artists such as Ashe Durand, William Hart and Théodore Rousseau.

This is the first house I have experienced faithfully decorated in Eastlake style. The visit aroused in me curiosity about the Aesthetic Movement. It may seem old-fashioned and overly decorative, yet in a grand house that speaks out affluence and tastes, the opulence looks cultivated and restrained under the iridescent wallpaper.

You can also visit Hudson River Museum website.

The regular admission fee is $5 for adult.
Metro North Hudson Line with local stops to Glenview.

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Museums are always collecting. I have found a tea pot in the Brooklyn Museum which was produced in the 1990’s for Target stores. Based on my observation, today major traditional American institutions mostly concentrate the contemporary arts. Such practice is NOT because they have changed their directions; on the contrary it is the direction that they have always been following: collecting contemporary art. By committing collecting arts through the times, they’ve shaped the aesthetic tastes of the public and quietly assembled works when they were still affordable.

That is not the case for Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, founded by Alice Walton. No major American art museums will feel its 19th century collection complete without paintings by Hudson River school artits, early portrait painters like Copley, Stuart or Peale. The same can be said for works by Andy Warhol or Edward Hopper to lead the 20th century collection. But without years of primary collecting, Crystal Bridges has to start from scratch for everything.

Last Friday’s press release showed that Francis Guy’s “A Winter Scene in Brooklyn” was the museum’s latest acquisition. The painting was exhibited in the Brooklyn Museum in 2006 along with their own version. Possibly painted by Francis Guy’s last year, the two were almost identical except the one in Brooklyn Museum lost about 2 feet on the left side due to a fire. It was said that the one bought by Alice Walton once had a painted balustrade along its lower edge but was trimmed for unknown reasons. If so, the feature that evoked the artist’s window ledge would surprise all those 20th century artists who claimed inventing more naturalistic or accidental cropping compositions. At a time when there is no nationally recognized style or high demand for landscape paintings, Guy, trained as a tailor and silk dyer, painted his window scenes no less than five times.

I am personally not a fan of Francis Guy. His paintings have tremendous historical value for sure. “Tontine Coffee House” in New York Historical Society, painted in 1797 tells a vivid story how Wall Street came into being. The village scenery of Front Street and Fulton Street, long disappeared after the completion of the Brooklyn Bridge, provided scholars of the architectural, economic, social and ethnic views of Brooklyn in 1820. Guy, like other early landscape painters, has a peculiar detail-oriented tendency. The dramas, anecdotes, and humors were found here and there in carefully arranged objects and humans to provide a narrative sub context. If Hudson River School is going to be blamed for their tedious copy of nature, Guy, their predecessor, showed an amateurish understanding of naturalism by giving everything sharp edges.

But the painting does have its charm. Instead of looking from the far back to grasp the magic light in Durand’s landscape, one is enticed to get as close as possible to examine the daily life of the people in Guy’s “A Winter Scene in Brooklyn”. (About 40 names of the houses, stores, shops or people are identified in Guy’s painting! Don’t forget to look at the person on the chimney!)

But I would doubt such findings as the black person’s name is Samuel Foster would have the same "wow" effect in Bentonville, AR. A Winter Scene in Brooklyn is essentially Brooklynite. For those people who jog on the promenade and wonder why there are so many Asian wedding photo sessions under the Brooklyn Bridge, the painting reminds them of Brooklyn, although it has become much bigger and more diverse, it still holds a home feeling. The visitors to Crystal Bridges may successfully identify the painting as a primitive landscape, yet they would not have the chance to hop on the subway from the museum and get off at Clark Street and overcome all the obstacles now blocking the ferry to see what it's like now and thus deeply appreciate the genius of Francis Guy.

The deaccession at the National Academy (NA)seems to be related to Crystal Bridges too. News broke out that Nation Academy sold two important paintings (one by Church, one by Gifford) from their permanent collection to pay their bills. Where the two paintings went has yet to be revealed, but the disclosure of selling works reminds New Yorkers of the outcry of the public when New York Public Library sold Kindred Spirits by Durand to Crystal Bridges Museum.

I have been to National Academy for both visiting exhibition and doing research. They do have an extensive permanent collection since every new academician is supposed to submit a diploma painting. But they don’t have a permanent place to exhibit them. Their permanent collection thus is most likely to be in the storage. This coming February, NA will have an exhibition to highlight some of their permanent collection. I agree with Eric that it is better to show artworks in public regardless of the location than store them in the dark room.

National Academy also mentioned that these two paintings were not diploma works but were donated by another member. This statement, in my mind, neither legitimizes nor invalidates their deaccession activity. Just because it is donated does not make a painting less important or less valuable. Ethnically, selling donated objects (more common in Natural History Museums nowadays because some donors insisted to donate their whole collection in the past) is in general against the donor’s intention. The donor of the two paintings must have regarded NA the most proper organization to place the asset. On the other hand, legally it is up to the museum who determines how to dispose the artworks when they do not want to show them permanently. I hope that the original donor would be happy to know that sometime soon the two paintings would be hung publicly.

My two cents: Don’t blanketly donate artwork to museums, at least not in unrestricted terms. They have thousands of objects collecting dust in the darkness for years. Why bother another one?

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It's not a secret among antique dealers that folks in the American South have a better appreciation for American Decorative Arts. I suppose to some extent this may extend to American paintings. I haven't noticed a tour of American Art before 1880 being offered at the nearby Brooklyn Museum. Although there have been tours of the Dutch houses in the museum, I haven't noticed a tour being offered of the 19th Century Period Rooms.

Now there's some speculation that Alice Walton, already the possessor of Durand's Kindred Spirits, has bought two paintings from the collection of the National Academy. On an emotional level, it's sad to see them leave New York. From a practical point of view, I'd say a painting on display in Arkansas is better than one stored in New York.

I hope that a new administration will help bring some renewed pride in America and interest in objects and paintings from the first century of our existence. We need the likes of Alice Walton, like Ford, Rockefeller, Hogg and DuPont before her, to breath new life and interest to American Art and Decorative Arts. I hate seeing our great collections of American Art overlooked. Nature hates a vacuum and the vacuum that New York creates, Arkansas fills.

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For details of the event which including panel discussion, artists talk and hot dancing party on Beaux-Arts Court, visit Target First Saturdays page.

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No word than the nature dreamer can better describe Blakelock, whose poetic paintings are now exhibited in National Academy. “The Unknown Blakelock” brings some of the key works of Ralph Albert Blakelock from the museums and collectors of the country into the National Academy.

The three moonlight paintings, one of the two major subjects that associated with him, were hung side by side in the gallery. The silhouetted massive trees, the greenish bluish sky, and the high-keyed moon of heavily impasto vividly display mysterious scenery which is at once intimate, personal yet surreal. It is almost monochrome. Its two dimensional graphic pattern was laid down on super rugged surface: the texture itself provides an additional layer of viewing: abstract, accidental yet fascinating like a magic spell.

The scales of the paintings are medium or small, yet my heart was still immersed in the poetic moon light when I stepped out of the museum after the research on Henry Golden Dearth in the museum archives. I knew a second visit was a must. It didn’t take me that long to go back: in fact only about 24 hours. Daingerfield, his first biography writer remarked that Blakelock only depicted two phases of nature: twilight and moonlight. If so, moments of solitude and silence are a requisite of appreciation. For a long time, there were only Eric and me surrounded by the paintings of Blakelock. (Though next to Guggenheim, the National Academy was not crowded on Saturday.)

There are two pieces of facts that really contrast with the underappreciated status of the artist and draw my attention: Blakelock is the one of the most forged American artists if not the most forged artist in America. And his work in the collection of National Academy and Sheldon Museum of Art are among the favorites of the artist members and local practicing artists.

However, Blakelock stands by himself as one of the less known artists from art history point of view: A follower of Hudson River School at his early career; an outsider of the Barbizon school. And even though was paired with Ryder for the abstract patterns, forms in their works, in general only Ryder is credited as the precursor of the American abstract modernism.

In those moonlight or twilight paintings, I saw the sculpted layers of paint being built up and scrapped down and the forming of paint partially by consciousness, partially by subconsciousness and accidents. No doubt Blakelock lived in his own realm which is quite different from those of Barbizon school: Dwight Tryon and Alexander Wyant belong to the old world, even though they have abandoned the keen observation of nature and favored a more evocative personal expressiveness. Blakelock, by painting from his internal feeling and insights, had gone further to show the dream world that did not has its prototype in the real world. If Henry Ward Ranger dabbed the color with varnish to advance the range of oil paint from translucent to opaque, Blakelock’s obsess with the ruggedness of canvas anticipated the 20th century modern art when the surface structure of paint speaks as loud as the content itself.

There are other works that surprised me by their being un-Blakelock. A painting of sunset with seals has dazzling colors: The warm orange red on top of blue sky and sea water is not something untypical. However, if the pattern of the tree branches surrounded by the yellowish cloud echoes Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata in his painting which bears the same title, here the range of the colors that he adopted plays dramatic music scores. (I could almost hear the hymn of the splendid sunset sung by those seals painted suggestively.) A still life painting of bee on thistle blends the hi-fi effect of blowing up details with its mysterious background. It does not have the exactness and perfection as Georgia Keefe, but the light pinkish/purple flower out of the hazed dark green accented by a oversized bee is so audacious in its high-contrast that highly decorative flowers boldly attacked by John Lafarge would look from the old world.

The second room in the exhibition displayed works in a more coherent style. The Pegasus with a few others seems to be more about patterns, forms and shapes than what they really represent. A few were painted probably in a rush that the wood panel corner was left unpainted; others seem to have lost the original colors due to the coal tar ingredient used by Blakelock. (His paintings must be disastrous project from conservator’s point of view.) The moonlight owned by and Sheldon Museum of Art, hung above fireplace of the room. If color (or devoid of color) and music can be used to describe the three moonlight paintings grouped together in the first room, this undated moonlight reminds me of late Blakelock’s mental illness. The clouds around the moon bear striking contrast between fire-burning neuroticism and suppressive coldness. Like the thistle, the clouds popped out visually and physically. I looked up: it was hung high and not much detail can be obtained. The natural light shone onto the surface, but the night is still dark, irresistible and chilled my spine. It is a lonely night, and like his other paintings, there exudes a sense of unease and insecurity. Beyond that, words fail; only emotion stirs like the burning clouds. A plaque on the painting next to it comments:
What if the clouds one short dark night, hide the blue sky until morn appears
When the bright sun that cheers soon again will rise to shine upon earth for endless years
The Unknown Blakelock is on view at National Academy Museum till Jan 4, 2009.

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Westmoreland Museum of American Art (WMOAA) dedicates another exhibition "Scenic Views: Painters of the Scalp Level School Revisited" to the western Pennsylvania region starting from Nov 9 to Feb, 1 next year (see the Nov 2, 2008 Pittsburgh Post-Gazette article "Profile rises for landscapes from Scalp Level School" by Mary Thomas about detailed information of the exhibition).

This time the museum is celebrating their 50th anniversary by assembling paintings from private lenders, different museums and from their own collection. An exhibition can stimulate research, show, forum and public interests in the topic and thus increasing the market value of the artists. Scalp Level painters, except George Hetzel, who is often associated with Hudson River School, have not reached the same market value as their contemporary fellows along the east coast. In a recent article of The Magazine Antiques, Barbaba Novak is credited with bringing the Hudson River School to an unprecedented level of public awareness and appreciation through her pioneering book published in 1969. The "American Tonalism" exhibition held at Metropolitan Museum of Art and Montclair Art Museum in 1999-2000 brought another American school in life and their market values increasing ever since. So how would the current exhibition at WMOAA impact the future of Scalp Level? That's something I would be interested in as we move into the future.

Here are some of my thoughts

1 Exhibitions in Museums
Scalp Level paintings are not widely displayed in major museums. Most museums collecting and exhibiting their paintings are in the Western Pennsylvania area. The current limited availability in major institutes does provide one advantage: One can do much of his research or seeing the majority of works in public within the Ohio Valley area.

The West Wing of the first floor in WMOAA exhibits permanently the best examples of the school. Southern Allegheny Museum of Art features a painting of George Hetzel on their website, but I didn't see their permanent collection during my visit to Loretto branch last year.

Carnegie Museum of Art (CMOA) groups the paintings by the decades during which they were created. Therefore a few of Hetzel's paintings, one still life of K. F. King and several paintings by William Coventry Wall are all separated. CMOA probably has a much larger collection of Scalp Level paintings, nevertheless the scope (from Medieval to Modern and from different continents) and the strength (after 1900 especially after 1940s) of the collection make it less likely to add more regional-related works into tight permanent space.

The grand lobby of the Carnegie Music Hall, next to the museum is a great place to examine Scalp Level artworks although the lighting is not designed for art appreciation. Even worse, like most of the paintings collected when Pittsburgh was still a smoky manufacturing city, these paintings are all behind the glass, which sometimes makes the painting hard to see. Nevertheless, I quite enjoyed the opportunity of examining them closely without being disturbed by the pesky museum staff. (Among them, a deep autumn forest painting by A. S. Wall is my favorite. )

The Heinz History Center in strip district of Pittsburgh also has some Scalp Level paintings in the collection. Because the center is focused on the cultural heritage of Pittsburgh region, a lot of paintings are not on view.

Butler Institute of American Art is a gem in the Ohio Valley. The depth and breadth in its American collection will rival any national level museums. It is there I saw one of the best Jasper Lawman paintings: a harmony of rural scene: mundane but pastoral, exceptional composition and colors.

These places are also great for research purpose because each of them have important archives and documents. A good start would be Carnegie Public Library, which is much easier to access than museums. I went through their archived documents of Scalp Level two years ago. Among them there are critics articles from local newspaper dated as far back to 1900's as to 1980's.

2 Auctions and Galleries
Eric and I have been watching the auctions of Scalp Level paintings for a while. George Hetzel and Charles Linford come into the market once a while. I have not noticed the active change of ownership for other painters. It may be because my biased alertness to the painters who I know more. I didn't look hard enough for the auction records of other painters in this case.

George Hetzel is the only painter among Scalp Level school to achieve national fame. Although still more affordable compared to Hudson River School painters such as Cropsey or Kensett, a painting by Hetzel can easily fetch more than 10,000 dollars. One of our friends who is a vigilant collector told us his paintings sometimes ask for $100,000 in the market.

Our own experience proves such an upswing trend. Two years ago, when an interior wood painting by George Hetzel came to an auction in Maine, we were stunned that it was sold for 11,000 dollars (hammer price) , almost 8 times as high as its estimation. (Interestingly, a painting by George Inness in the subsequent lot fetched the same amount of money.) Later, Maine Antique Digest summarized the lot as a mistakenly estimated. We have also seen a spring blossom scene painting offered by Aspire Auction, which, according to the same friend, was very unusual. I was not convinced to see the signature even with a magnifying glass, which according the auction house was possibly due to the over cleaning done in-house. It was sold much lower than the regular market value eventually. Later, we saw the same painting in its newly gilded frame in an upscale gallery at Shadyside, with a price tag $20,000 more.

Concept Art Gallery is probably the most reliable auctioneer source to resort to if one is destined to own a painting by George Hetzel. And nowhere else can one witness the rising price of paintings by George Hetzel better than at this auction house. In this year, two paintings were offered by Concept Gallery, one fetched $22,000 while the other went to $42,000. Just three years ago, three paintings by George Hetzel were auctioned on Nov 5 and the highest was $11,000. (It is noteworthy that in the same year one of his paintings in Concept Gallery was sold above $50,000 because of its exceptional quality.) *

Charles Linford can sometimes be found in the auction houses on the east coast such as Freeman's in Philadelphia or Skinner's in Boston. Linford lived in Philadelphia for quite a long time and possibly frequented New York and Boston. In his Philadelphia times, he exhibited in Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and befriended with Thomas Eakins who left a imposing portrait of Linford whose weary looking gives hints of his coming end of life in a fairly young age. Linford's paintings are almost invariably interior forests. In a September auction last year offered by Concept Gallery, a painting on wood panel was sold for $1800. Later on another similar painting also on wood panel was sold by Skinner for $1200. Both are small, heavily soiled, with surface crazing and some paint lift; nevertheless both are charming and exemplary. The most recent auction records show that there is a higher appreciation of Charles Linford's untamed woodland beauty: In September 2008, Alderfer auctioned one of his paintings for $4000 and Concept Gallery sold a horizontal format painting last month for $3750. In both cases, the estimated price was still between one to two thousands, and in both cases, the realization beats the estimation by around 2 to 1.

The Wall family doesn't appear in the auction houses quite often. At his best, paintings by William Coventry Wall recalls the style of luminism: tightly controlled river view under magnificent light. One of his painting offered by the Concept Gallery three years ago was sold for $12,000. I have not seen auction records by A. S. Wall yet. As an influential person to Carnegie Institute, I am sure that some of his paintings will come to the surface eventually. I have also seen some paintings by Jasper Lawman in some auctions, but they were not his typical works.

Besides auction houses, there are a few galleries around Pittsburgh with Scalp Level paintings in inventory. Gilliand Fine Art in Ligonier, PA has been dealing with Western Pennsylvania Art for two generations. It collaborated with WMOAA in the past and still serves as the best source for scalp level paintings. Another gallery - Artifacts - located right off the West End Bridge has a few Scalp Level paintings.

3. The Painters

It is said that George Hetzel and Charles Linford together founded the rural retreat in Scalp Level, a place near Johnstown, PA. The school was not defined by the style as is Hudson River, American Baribizon or Luminism. Instead it is defined geographically by such a group of painters (mostly from Pittsburgh) who made their trips to Scalp Level to find the natural beauty which was diminishing in Pittsburgh at that time. Similar regional school also appeared in Old Lyme, CT and New Hope, PA where painters, attracted by the local scenery, painted together.

Among them, George Hetzel was trained academically in Dusseldorf, German. From some existing drawing (some are actually figures) of his early training time, one can sense that he mastered great skills at fairly early age. Over his long career span, he gradually loosen up a Hudson-River-School-like detail-oriented style and adopted to a more tonally harmonious one, but nevertheless he never gave up a more scientific, rational approach, similar to that of his contemporary Dewitt Clinton Boutelle from Bethlehem, PA. His rendering of nature reminds me of Asher Durand because forest under his brush is both realistic and poetic. It is no joking that with paintings by George Hetzel one can study the vegetation of Scalp Level before Johnstown was flooded, which terminated the summer trip for the school. It is no accidental that one of the book about Hudson River School actually chooses one of his major works (now in WMOAA) as the cover illustration. However, unlike the Cole or Church, Hetzel found the interior of forest as much captivating as the panorama views of the Ohio Valley. He is a keen observer: quite often, the interplay between light and shade not only enhances the depth of the scene, but also tells the time of the day. Under his brush, Scalp Level may seem to offer less excitement than that of Catskill, NY; but its restrained tranquil scenery is timeless and transcendental.

Each member of Wall family is different.

William Coventry Wall is the eldest. One can easily get tired of his meticulous details in his tightly controlled pictures. My favorite is a small painting in CMOA. "Pittsburgh after the Fire from Boyd's Hill" was painted in 1846, an early but important work in his career. The dominating orange red color of debris and walls has an almost psychological effect on viewer's eyes. The panorama view is a jarring contrast between roofless houses lined repetitively and relentlessly in an unnatural patten and the formless hills on the other side of the river. The slightly exaggerated color of the burnt wall anticipated his rich pallet of autumnal scenes decades later. But while the minutiae and exacting style in depicting mountains may seem primitive in those landscape paintings, in this small urban picture however, the orderly rhythms formed by the pointed walls and chimneys and the painstaking rendering of the remains from the scorching flames under another layer of warm sunlight link the viewers with his own sympathy toward the unexpected loss and suffering.

A. S. Wall is my favorite painter among the Wall family. Alfred Wall was appointed by Andrew Carnegie as one of the original members of board of trustee of Carnegie Institute but didn't serve long before he died. His style is more painterly compared to his brother. It would be great to put his paintings next to those by Charles Linford to show a similar style, more intimate and looser, that began to gain the momentum after the civil war. Once CMOA showed one of his watercolor pictures, I was amazed by its simplicity and refined suggestive mood. Unlike Hetzel, A. S. Wall often depicted human traces in the landscape: barns, crops or straw thatched houses. For a painter who grew up in Mount Pleasant, it is not the humanized nature that he is afraid of - which must be abundant throughout Western Pennsylvania area; it is the industrialization and machine age that he and his fellow were escaping from.

Based on the biography, one of the members of board of trustee for Carnegie Institute, the son of A. S. Wall, A. Bryan Wall had no formal art lesson except from his father and his uncle. Although coined as a sheep painter, I have seen the picture of the portrait that he painted for Henry Frick which fits quite well for the society portraiture standard. Like Carlton Wiggins, A. B. Wall found his true romance in the warm textured and docile temped animals dimly lit in nostalgia light. In his numerous shepherd scenes, there is a sense of accomplishment of landscape design through his direct brush stroke, vivid, free yet effective. If A. S. Wall, by eliminating the rich palette that his elder brother used, achieved a tonal impression echoing French Barbizon style, A. Bryan Wall's directness advanced the painterly style in Scalp Level school to impressionism, a popular style of his times.

Among all Scalp Level painters, Charles Linfod is my favorite. I have not found any reference about his early life, but his paintings certainly reflects the French Barbizon style. Since he spent years living in the east coast, it is possible that he had seen imported French paintings by person. His interior forests bear similar composition as that of Diaz de la Pena; but his colors are more somber and close to that of Rousseau. Consistently, he favored an overall warm brown color for earthy atmosphere and in general took a lower position for a more intimate foreground. The sky, opening up at certain area, casts just enough light for the magic wood interior. If William Coventry Wall painted the scene while George Hetzel painted the nature, then Linford painted the mood that make one feel more than see. Maybe Scalp Level looked no different from other western Pennsylvania state parks nowadays; but in the vision of Linford, every tree is magic and sentimental that demands looking and contemplating.

Like A. B. Wall, A. F.King was another second generation of Scalp Level school. But I have not seen a convincing landscape painting by King. His light was too tried, and his brushstroke too tight. Years ago, I saw a large scale painting by him in Eclectic Gallery on Ohio River Blvd. Its overwhelming tranquility almost borders stylish stillness that are common in primitive landscapes. But such calmness becomes his biggest strength in his much acclaimed still-life paintings. "Late night snack" displayed CMOA is one of my favorite in the whole museum. The lucidity of the glass, the cloudy texture of the beer and tiny holes in the biscuits gives beholders an illusion that the satisfaction of delicious food can come from the visual joy. Unfortunately, King outlived his contemporaries, which means for an artist living out of the fashion. Ironically, when A. B. Wall sat in the board of trustee to select permanent collection for Carnegie Institute which devoted a museum to old masters of tomorrow, King, by sticking to the tradition of tightly controlled Landscape and still life in the vein of Hudson River school and Raphael Peale was forgotten in his last few years.

Jasper Lawman is another painter among the Scalp Level School who reflectd a more European tradition. Like the French Barbizon painters, he often incorporated human figure as an integral part of the pictures. But the human figures under his paint, are not laboring in the fields, instead they possess a kind of attitude of repose and ease. Thus his paintings look light and fresh, unique among Scalp Level painters.

I am in no position in discussing Woodwell, but certainly he is very versatile and some of his paintings look almost impressionism. I will also skip other painters such as Eugene Pool or a few second generation painters whom I know little of or whose paintings I have only seen one or two in person.

4 The Critics

In the article in Post Gazette, it was commented by the director of WMOAA, Judith O'Toole, that the complete infrastructure of the museums, dealership along the east coast branded the Hudson River a national school. (In comparison, the first art museum in Pittsburgh was established from the first Carnegie International in 1896.) It is true that artists probably could achieve their fame easier or higher in big east coast cities, however i disagree that Scalp Level would be raised to a national level even if those painters had been painting there.

Cole, Durand and other painters are the first American painters who brought the American wildness into the view of the public. Even though their subject matters are limited to the scenes along the Hudson, the grandeur of the scenery, the optimism that is shone through the canvas carries a national appealing and pride at its time. Their paintings, almost universally painted in panorama, sent a unquestionable message that the god has blessed the country with unrivaled beauty and abundant resources. Thus Hudson River School, with a mission of edifying the public and elevating the status of the homeland, were boasted and praised not only for their exceptional techniques, but also their moral discourse offered silently yet unequivocally.

Scalp Level school did not start their first trip until the end of the civil war, at least one decade later than when major painters of Hudson River school began to stun public with their enormous canvases. By the end of 1890's, Pittsburgh was a giant machine for steel and glass manufacturing. Instead of embracing the American wildness that were everywhere in the first half of the 19th century, Hetzel and his likeminded fellow saws the Scalp Level an outlet from eroding urban mundanity and thus were more inclined to walk into the forest than to look down at the mountains. Their paintings are more personal. However although the viewers are intrigued by the otherworldly beauty, a reminiscence of the past grandeur, they were conscious what has been displayed is painters' mecca forest, not accessible to the general public.

Secondly, it is common that a regional school bears a recognizable style. Old Lyme at one time was the center of American tonalism. New Hope represents a group of Pennsylvania Impressionists. But the painters in Scalp Level School differ greatly in their artistic style. If it is not because of the regional preference, it is hard to believe someone, who likes A. B. Wall, will also collect his uncle's paintings. Not only is the style unable to descend along bloodline from its first generation, but also individual had also gone through style changes in their careers. King's late period still life paintings roughen up and reject the convention of nicety. In his later life, Woodwell used large solid color blocks in some plein-air paintings that would not challenge the notion that he is a member of Scalp Level school.

This also answered the question asked at the very beginning of the blog? Will the market values of Scalp Level increase to the next tier in the next few years? In my mind, the answer will be yes and no. The Pittsburgh region has not seen an increase of affluence or people. The art and antiques that are associated with the region, hence would not change dramatically. The sharp increase in the recent auction records is partially caused by the fact that the availability of artworks is still limited and major works are yet to be discovered. The Post Gazette article said paintings that have been in artist and collector families for decades are entering the market for the past few years as the original owners gradually die out. If this is true, more scalp level paintings will appear in the market and the market may stabilize before the price surges up to balance the demand and the supply.

But more importantly, the market for individual painters may probably go through different route. In a lukewarm market, the medium ranged category is affected more than two extreme end. Therefore some may not see the rise of appreciation in monetary value, while others will keep the steady pace with more research, publication available.

______________________________________________________________
*Note, all attributed works were not considered in this analysis.

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The trip to Montclair Art Museum was quite smooth. There is no commuter train running on the weekends, but Decamp bus runs every hour from Port Authority, Manhattan to Montclair, NJ. It only took about 40 minutes by bus to get to the museum, which is situated almost at the top of a hill, with a view of Manhattan. Down the hill, we found a Turkish restaurant (quite upscale), a WholeFood store and a few antique stores further down which unfortunately did not seem to open on Sunday.

Montclair Art Museum is not as big as Newark Museum, but it dedicates a full room to George Inness who spent his last decade in the town. Like all other townships near NYC, Montclair has lost its rural beauty that Inness favored in his paintings; but it is surprising that there is such a wonderful museum filled with some best American art.

Besides the Inness room, I was quite impressed by two paintings. Early Morning in Cold Spring, a painting by Asher Brown Durand shows a perfect balance between naturalism and romanticism. The fact that I just visited Cold Spring, NY a few weeks ago made the painting more personal to me. There is always a sense of freshness in Durand's painting: The nature, depicted truthful but poetic, exists in harmony with minds of intellectual. In this painting, Durand was inspired by a William Cullen Byant's poem:

And o'er the clear still water swells
The music of the Sabbath bells

The other painting is a little gem by Edward M. Bannister, an African-American painter from Rhode Island who founded Rhode Island School of Design. Passing Storm is a vivid demonstration that by the late 19th century Barbizon has been transformed into a unique style that can almost be coined as American-born tonalism. Like Inness, Bannister said "artists become an interpreter of the infinite, subtle qualities of the spiritual ideals of nature... revealing glimpses of absolute harmony." There are not as much details as are almost everywhere in Cropsey's painting next to it, but I was immediately drawn to the overall effect: the untamed nature revealing its austere beauty: It is easy to understand that now I appreciate the brownish soil under still-looming sky more when working in a place that almost every inches of earth is covered by concrete and every feet of sky is blocked by skySCRAPErs.

Philip Pearlstein's exhibition "Objectification" takes almost half of the first floor exhibition space. The figure paintings demonstrate a sense of objectivity with cut-off faces, obtruded features. He treated the human body with the same degree of coolness as other objects from his collections that were painted with the bodies. They are marvelous in the techniques but to see Pearlstein after Inness (that's how the exhibition rooms are arranged) is like to read a math dissertation after reading essays by Heinrich Heine. From the short video, Eric commented the way Pearlstein works on his paintings is almost the opposite to how Inness created his own imagination on the canvas.

Before we left, Eric asked how often the museum rotates the paintings by Inness since at least half of the collection are not on display. Unfortunately, we were told the rotation has not been done quite often. Maybe in the curator's point of view, the nine paintings in that room give the audience a complete image of Inness' style in different periods and of course his association with the town when at his peak power. We will probably go back in the near future on a Saturday when those antique stores may open. And after all, "Christmas Evening" by George Inness is Eric's favorite painting!

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"Where can I see it? "
"Why can't you put them into DVD and make them available?"

These are the two questions from the panel discussion of Jesper Just's Romantic Delusion exhibition last Saturday at Brooklyn Museum of Art.

Just tried to answer them in a positive way, while the curator Patrick Amsellem kept silent about the touchy questions. It is another moment of romantic delusion when public's naive questions are averted through careful phrasing. (In this case, Just's just-so-so English helped a little bit.) I looked at Eric when hearing such questions. We both smiled, but said nothing. But we know: Artworks exhibited in major museums are not meant to be affordable, or should I rephrase this way--artworks that can be bought in mass production with abundant availability won't be exhibited in museums?

It is true that no gig-lee prints can substitute an original painting even though the coloration is identical. Photos and sculpture are more tangible. Photos can be reproduced from the negative films or now a digital file infinitely and sculpture can be cast hundreds years after the molds were made. On the other hand, the audience have their legitimate reasoning. Videos are a different type of art media. The copy process from one disk/tape to another does not diminish the quality of the artwork. So why not if one of the goals of his art is to outreach the public?

Nothing is more controversial when the originality of the video comes to the panel discussion. If all arts are supposed to be consumed, the consumption of video art is the closest to the commercial activity: Between the clear defined start and end, the minds watch the specific clips as time goes by. Some people may get confused or bored, but that may happen in commercial movies too.

The difference between the consumption of commercial movies and of art videos lies in the density. The density of information, emotions and subcontexts in Just's Bliss and Heaven is so great that the second time I watched it brought me some new thoughts and understandings. of equal amount as the first time. Seldom do people go to watch the same movie twice, because blockbuster movies are meant to be easily grasped and lightly consumed with coke and popcorn. The length, on the other hand, goes the opposite. I doubt one can concentrate more than one hour for a movie made by Just. He himself admitted that he would probably never make a commercial one. The ambiguity lies in the concise format and the richness of the emotions will be diluted if a story is told in clarity and well-defined Hollywood style.

"The market for this type of movies is small. " Jesper confessed in the end. "And the cost to make such movies is large." But the question is who betrays who facing the embarrassing result that art movies cannot find audience while audience cannot find art movies? Just said he would have another show in a gallery next March, before that all New Yorkers will have to come to Brooklyn Museum for the four short movies. (He has made more than 20 movies. so far)

From a collector's point of view, I have no desire to own a movie, even if I can have it autographed, even if I can watch it a dozen times and still find something new. I may, if possible, go to the gallery to watch them and thus consuming them. A necessary channel should be built to connect the two parties who complains "the man who is not there".

Jesper Just has a website. If you are interested, visit Jesper Just.

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For convenience, read part 1 and part 2.
There is little known about the bird lady from the archeological point of view, nor would one infer much conclusions from a tried observation. When Henri de Morgan in the winter of 1906-1907 found the Terra-cotta statue from a tomb at El Ma'mariya, he did not record much about the excavation procedure, nor the tomb specifics. So There is even no consensus on what we should call her. Bird lady is possibly a pure invention our of one's imagination, but the name fits her well, or should we say in another way that the name does not matter here?

So far, I have heard three different versons of the possible meaning/purpose of the figurine. 

Ann Russmann, the curator, linked her with a pottery vessel from Naqada II period, which also bears a female figure whose arms sweep up like a bird. Because of her prominent proportion compared to the male figure next to her, Ann concluded she must be a goddess although the function is unclear. But the larger-than usual head of the female painted on the vessel is a clear statement that she has blossoming hairs. The bead head of the statue, on the contrary, with some rezin painted in black in a suggestive manner, looks more like from a bird.

Yekaterina Barbash, another curator of Egyptian Art compared her gesture with the funeral mourning convention. It is natural to think a mourner figurine would find her niche in a tomb. But from the available paintings, mourning women ususally pull their hands close in front of the faces or above the heads. In neither position will one see the arms wide open like a bird ready to fly.

The third version is from the book "The Egyptians" by Cyril Aldred published by Thames & Hudson (ISBN 0-500-28036-3). Cyril takes the note that she is wearing a long white skirt as the evidence of dancing. He even suggested the dance may be inspired by the bird-mating since the arms have an unusual upward mometum. With this assumption, he suggested that the fingurine may have magic fertility functions.

I have found none of the inferences totally convincing, nevertheless the figurine is and deserves to be the highlight among all wonderful Egyptian collections in the Brooklyn Museum. 

Unlike the later dynastic Egyptian period when statues are as strict as canonical paintings, the early artworks is from minds of great freedom. In my mind, her slim waist, wide buttock, bead head and peg-like legs connect directly to the spirit of Henry Moore where the rhythms of curves are as expressive and informative as the objects themselves. The arms that intrigues and ponders so many scholars and visitors break the abstract austerity with an unusual curve: bold, dynamic yet still elegant. Could she be just carrying some burden for the deceased? Or maybe the upward arms is a symbol of resurrection? I wondered.

Such artworks may seem too primitive for some visitors who praise the French academy or Roman statues. But the great art always bears some sort of unsolvable mystery as charming as Mona Lisa's smile. It brings unexpected rewards to those who frequent observe them with fresh eyes. And those who have done that enjoy the same degree of happiness as the kids treasure in a magic land. For example, although breasts are made crude and possibly modeled after the body part was completed, the highest point of the figurine -- the fingers -- are beautifully indicated with carefully aligned straight lines. Then as one looks at them and may even try to imitate the movement, here comes the surprise: The thumbs, which are supposed to be in the back in reality when arms reach high in the air, are curiously modeled in the front. Could it a result of ignorance or bluntness of the artist? Or maybe he meant to show us the thumbs in the front view? I don't know.

More than 5000 years have passed, standing quiet in a glass case, its unconventionality still challenges what we see and push us back to re-examine the seemingly gap between avant guard and antiquity.

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Nov 1 is the first Saturday of the month and one day before the election. Naturally there is a documentary featuring topics related to election.

My favorite pick is Artist Jesper Just discusses the exhibition at 8PM. I can foresee the competition for 30 tickets will be fierce. But if you can make it, go to Brooklyn Museum at 7 and watch a few of his short movies before joining the discussion with him at 8PM. That sounds a perfect plan.

For more information, visit here.

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I went inside the visible storage rooms last week for the Small Wonders exhibition in Brooklyn Museum. It took the place of the Japanese woodblock prints and the American artworks they influenced. It is an interesting idea that inside the Luce Center part of the visible storage will be devoted to temporary exhibitions.

Among these small wonders, there are objects in textiles, porcelains, flatware and ceramic tiles. Nudged by Eric, I noticed two objects came from the Ohio Valley where Eric and I had visited extensively in the past. One tile is from Zanesville, Ohio. Another tile was made in Beaver Falls, Penna. I immediately recalled vividly our visits to these two small places.

The trip to Zanesville was to fulfill the mission of finding a bird bath in the yard. Zanesville's historical fame and association with glass and ceramics could be seen through the antique malls lined along route 22. Another interesting observation that I have made was the abundant books by Thomas Mann published in 20's and 30's by Alfred Knopf. Not accidentally this was a period that many famous German exiled immigrates such as Mann or Schoenberg found their followers in the US. Their high culture root was praised and fostered all over the country. In particular Mann was regarded as a heritage culture authority and a champion of liberal and democratic values.

It was a smoldering day and we ended up buying a chunk concrete bird bath featuring a group of chubby angles which we sold later at half of the price before the move to Brooklyn. But the surprise of that trip came from the stop at Cambridge, Ohio where we found a nice art gallery in which we bought a painting by a local senior painter and a used-book store where I found the first edition of In Cold Blood for 15 dollars.

Beaver Falls is smaller. It is one of those dying river towns-- the scenery painted by George Hetzel more than 100 years ago, given away to mills and factories which subsequently died out with the declination of manufacturing sectors. When my ex-classmate moved from State College to Beaver Falls, they were told that they made the history to become the first Chinese residents of the town. "That grocery store owners took particular pride to see the influx of 'ALIEN' faces, but I am not sure he was friendly." My friend's father-in-law told me.

I have seen quite some good porcelains made in Beaver Falls. If I am correct, some of those president plates displayed in Hoyt Institute in New Castle, Penna were made in Beaver Falls. In fact, a lot of restaurants in western Pennsylvania had been using their porcelains for decades.

Besides the fact that Kittanning clay was used in the manufacturing process, I knew nothing about this particular porcelain made in Beaver Falls. Zanesville was more remote since I didn't have the chance to visit its downtown area. But they have laid such a deep impression that the images of the towns are just as clear as the figures on those tiles. In both cases, the objects remind me the flourish of the small river towns during the industrialization period. They once prospered, wealth collected, mansions or bigger houses built, even though what I have seen in the past does not necessarily prove that, or even worse shows the opposite.

There has always something special about those visits to these river towns, especially to someone like me, born and raised outside of US. It was a vivid revelation of American history that would never be put in any Chinese history textbook, yet those white old antique dealers sitting still in either once-to-be warehouses or Victorian family houses are quintessentially American. When I look back, those antique trips seem so remote in the lifestyle of New York where every minute of living must be justified by doing something profitable. The trips of antique shopping had a much slower pace than that that I took stepping out of the subway. Nine out of ten times the stores contained more junk (or in a better phrasing collectibles) than real antiques and 9.5 out of 10 times we ended up not buying, but driving around. But soaking in the stagnant air and surrounded by piles of stuff in an antique mall, one's life became meaningful by seeking and preserving the meaning of the past: The joy came from seeking while the happiness of preserving came like an unexpected trophy.

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Listen to it.

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Not only will the museum be free on Saturday Oct 4, but also there are some rare opportunity to enjoy arts.

Here are two of my favorites:

Meet Gilbert and George for discussion with their artworks. "Just look", that was what Gilbert said. But the two are of  such amicable characters that talking to them will be enjoyable!

Curator guide
When curators talk about the collection, it is like some serious collectors talking about their best treasure except the passion is mixed with knowledge, insights or anecdotes. When Kevin or Barry talked about the decorative arts in one of the classes, they brought life to them. So don't miss such an opportunity to be led by the best curators through your own favorite galleries. 

More detail: 

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Luck had it the two Schenck houses were saved by Brooklyn Museum. The Schencks were not dignitaries or high ranked officials, the fact that they were rescued from demolition is a pure timely coincidence of historical preservation, availability of funding and space, and devoted curatorial efforts.

But Brooklyn was largely a Dutch town for more than two centuries. From Brooklyn Museum's blog, I found this wonderful map containing information of on-site dutch houses in Brooklyn. My weekend task list is now expanded thereafter.



View Larger Map

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With Judy Kim, curator in Exhibition Division of the Brooklyn Museum, I had the opportunity of looking at the installation of the upcoming Gilbert and George exhibition opening on Oct 3, 2008. The exhibition installation is quite fa way from being ready, in fact all I saw is a model of the special exhibition space with miniature photos representing the real ones that had been carefully selected by the artists to suit the architecture design of the museum and would be hung within two weeks.

I have not been an avid fan of modern arts; nevertheless it always strikes and intrigues me to learn about the abundant and colorful personal lives of modern artists. In a recent talk at Met about J. M. W. Turner, audiences gave laughs when they heard the anecdote that the first American collector of Turner called his works “a bit indistinct”. Such incomplete or even inaccurate stories just enrich the public’s view of artists and brought viewers closer to the canvas from a different dimension.

Gustave Courbet, in my mind, is the first painter that extensively and intentionally commercialized his privacy and made his personal life accessible to public critics as much as his works. In a recent book “The Most Arrogant Man in France: Gustave Courbet and the Nineteenth-Century Media Culture” by Chu, it was said that Gustave certainly knew being covered by the media was definitely an advantage compared to stay behind the canvas void of characters, even though the media spotlights may be focusing on controversy or scandals.

By the time of Andy Warhol, artists had raised their own personal life to such important career access that it not only entangled with their works, but also was the framework under which each individual work sprouts out bearing the birth mark of their lives.

Just as any works of art should not be cheaply copied to tarnish its freshness and originality, Gilbert and George have been carefully fending and preening their personal images so that they are enough covered with eccentricity or modernity but not to a degree to pierce through the mystery veil of their living as an art work. After all, great works of art rely on their inexplicability and multifaceted perspectives; a nailed definition means a loss in another possible angles. Gilbert and George call themselves living sculptures, yet although the sculptures have been greatly observed, no biographical material has come mature for such a long period of partnered career: Even more, the elimination of their surnames means their names have been modernized as an integral part of their works and such elimination actually carries additional interpretative potential for those who like to pry.

And like their personal lives which blur the difference between unostentatious reality and staged performance, Gilbert and George’s works as a whole are a striking contrast between ever-changing artistic probing and stylish consistency. Their techniques have changed constantly from black and white blocked projection photo making in the 1970’s to bold colored collages in 1980’s to nowadays digitalization from 2003 onward. And their topics reflect what were current in Britain such as urbanization, race issues or terrorism. On the other hand, they stick to their style for more than four decades. Being able to speak in the same language grammatically with possibly additional vocabulary for a variety of subjects may sound easy in life, but sticking to artistic principles in the flood of new styles/trends and even faster-paced changes in critics tones is admirable.

In some sense, the way they call their life a work of art is legitimate in that their photos contain their own portraiture in abstract or sensual settings. In B&W, they were young and avant-garde experimenters. In the eighties, they opted for vibrancy, somewhat tacky colors and acted godlike to look down at young, beautiful teens. And now they have become gloomier, darker, angrier, or in the most recently series alien to the new century. The upcoming show will not display their works chronically, but the sensual and psychological changes in how they present themselves into the large photos would touch those who can separate the most personal self projection and examination from the over-saturated stained-glassed surroundings.

Looking at the slides, it is hard for me to reconcile their works with detail-oriented photos. Even though they are largely made from techniques of photo making, they are graphic, collage in nature and chromatically distorted in colors, a meditative dichotomy between flattening in 2D and deepening in meanings. The monstrous scale and devoid of minutia of reality settings calls for attention and interpretation of every viewer.

When asked about how progressive and revolutionary they are in the history of modern art, Judy urged us to think what were popular and main-stream and what were not in the 1970's . In the era of art market still being dominated by paintings, their probing into capturing their momentary life art into life size photos stripped off anything unnecessary must be explorative. Then I was stunned one of their images made in 1980's: Twenty Eight Streets is a photo collaged with street signs from London, almost with a machine-like coolness. In the middle, however, there was a wall, captured with naturalism in B&W, but presented abstractly since it can only be seen through two human-shaped holes among all the street signs. It is as if someone has burned the machinery conformity to show the empty wall, though nothing special, radiating a sense of humanity, partly from the human shape holes, partly from the same warmth due to the organic yet accidental arrangement of film grains that was epitomized from Bresson and his contemporary. This is the only work that among all in the slideshow does not have their clear portraits. In the age of digitalization, they were late technique adopters. One thing for sure, they would probably never grasp the master level of photoshopping which is so rampantly taught in most of the design schools. But Gilbert and George, by presenting them in a film-styled hollow grayness, show their homage and root in traditional photograph art or art in general: In front of art, they are serious and thought-provoking, as they have been through their lifelong living performance; thus why would they be washed away by the advent of the new technology?

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The visit to the Newark Museum was really a delight and surprise. I was amazed by the extensive American Art collection, and decorative arts in particular the Ballantine House. I would definitely visit it again, probably very soon in the near future since it will feature a special exhibition of American Impressionism this month.

The current exhibition: The Small but Sublime: Intimate Views by Durand, Bierdstadt and Inness features a two-room of small or medium sized American landscape paintings. Grouping paintings by their sizes is not a common curatorial perspective for exhibitions.

American landscape paintings were not born with intimate scale. Like the new nation’s ambition and its abundant wildness, six or eight feet canvases are a trademark of Hudson River School paintings. From the past auction observation, Bierdstadt or Cropsey quite often used small canvases for sketches. (One example can be seen from Shuptrine Fine Art.)

In the Brooklyn Museum, A Storm in the Rocky Mountain by Bierdstadt is the center piece in the landscape room. It does have the jaw-dropping "wow" effect, but as Barbara Novak has written in her book “Nature and Culture: American Landscape and Painting 1825-1875”, it creates the simultaneous intimacy and distancing at the same time. My experience tends to be more on the distancing side. The grand panorama with balance, beauty and vibrancy are taken from a God point of view. The painters behind the canvases, thus become the messengers of the God or to some extent God himself, that remove the possible immediacy of communication with humble visitors.

But when Hudson River School painters came to sketches, they were looser and more painterly-minded. In Bierdstadt’s medium sized forest painting in the exhibition, the brush strokes and the application of paints are visible. (One would seldom notice execution-wise techniques when in front of a six-foot painting because there are so much excitement to explore!) Bierdstadt’s forest scene is humanized with a couple (barely entering the scene) and an almost unrecognizable deer. The trees are painted with such extraordinary efficiency that they are shown both suggestively in the sense of volume and minute green-scale and in needed detail to differentiate the front layer from the back.

After the Civil War, canvases scaled down, partly because paintings had become integrated with home decoration and partly because the taste began to favor a more intimate and romantic style. George Inness’ sunset painting reminds me of Fuji Velva film, a special color pallet with muted orange, green and red, which is more a nostalgia recalling of rare gold moments of nature in one’s mind than a candid capture of strong colors subdued by northeast mist.

My surprise came from two paintings in the exhibition. One is from DeWitt Clinton Boutelle. His meticulous rendering of a water fall is filled with mystery and wonder, probably nothing is more appropriately descriptive than J. R. R. Tolkein’s poems about Lothlórien, a dream elfland from Lord of the Rings. Though it is only a little bit bigger than a regular 8x11 paper, it is so inviting that my eyes were drawn into the water that owns both wetness and coolness in such a retreat.

The other surprise came from the only female painter presented in this exhibition – Mary Moran. The small painting on board does not capture natural New Jersey; instead it focuses on the urbanization. The city skyline, with the bright white building under the sun and black soot and smoke from the chimneys is placed in the center of the plein air painting. The foreground is still marshy and untainted by human nature except probably serving Mary as her stand point. But the light effect was very much like her husband Thomas Moran, a dramatic sky mixed with cloud phenomenon, sharp edges of definite light gradually transitions into soft fading that unifies different colors. The remote city, though brightly lit, loses its detail in the misty white.

Was that what Mary saw or what she romanticized? Different viewers may have different opinions about what it meant for a landscape painting that speaks about the city. But I found it intriguing. Along the NJ transit railroad, the marsh wetland of New Jersey is still like what was depicted in the painting, except now the iconic mid and lower Manhattan skylines cast a strong contrast in between sky and lowland. The charms of city living approach the greatest when the mystery around it has not fully resolved; but the completeness of such a living depends on the experienced contrast that would not be fulfilled without living on modestly quiet countryside.

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