tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76585185831888265512024-03-28T06:33:54.349-04:00Studio and Gardenby Altoon SultanAltoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.comBlogger1485125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-33342685329152265622021-11-12T17:34:00.000-05:002021-11-12T17:34:25.619-05:00Thomas Nozkowski's Distinct and Personal Vision<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoN4Zq9iVlGwL42M5SN5_aWw7piOJu8Lsh_kVNen33GftQ1KfZ2mXtNbVkV0-0yXoUB3hMM3XnL__6_tfEsZrLQLP70pqoQqqy63hMIEYPxr2IdPSG252Q-mE5WVi65oZWEIUAPvZsK21I/s1200/Nozkowski+5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="1200" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoN4Zq9iVlGwL42M5SN5_aWw7piOJu8Lsh_kVNen33GftQ1KfZ2mXtNbVkV0-0yXoUB3hMM3XnL__6_tfEsZrLQLP70pqoQqqy63hMIEYPxr2IdPSG252Q-mE5WVi65oZWEIUAPvZsK21I/w640-h518/Nozkowski+5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thomas Nozkowski, who sadly died in 2019, made paintings like no one else's, and each painting was an exploration of color and form totally its own. A <a href="https://www.pacegallery.com/exhibitions/thomas-nozkowski-8/" target="_blank">recent show at Pace Gallery,</a> "The Last Paintings", presented 15 paintings, done in the last few years of his life. They are insistently modest in size, but not in feeling or painterly ambition. Each work measures 22 x 28 inches, and all are oil on linen stretched on a panel. There's been a great deal of excellent writing on this show and on Nozkowski's body of work, including two beautiful tributes from people who knew him: by the artist <a href="https://brooklynrail.org/2021/10/artseen/Thomas-Nozkowski-The-Last-Paintings-A-Tribute" target="_blank">Tom McGlynn in the Brooklyn Rail</a>, and the writer <a href="https://hyperallergic.com/682452/thomas-nozkowski-the-last-paintings/" target="_blank">John Yau in Hyperallergic</a>. The <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/02/arts/design/thomas-nozkowski-pace-exhibition.html" target="_blank">New York Times</a> published a laudatory, informative article, with lots of studio photos. I don't feel that I have anything insightful to add, but I wanted to join the chorus of praise for this beautiful and moving show.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XXhi_lVdDOgP2IcowiV00Zq4tx-puaaeYB4kxfAGETHcjIpikUOrrpqbe0eVyczYVJcC9DqVYDPTQNDfFZXl5TTghHmZ6CMGPwWqDpyrUUD2PeEonfivRWe9SQD0kxUmuw7TKlOZAleO/s1000/Nozkowski+5a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="1000" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XXhi_lVdDOgP2IcowiV00Zq4tx-puaaeYB4kxfAGETHcjIpikUOrrpqbe0eVyczYVJcC9DqVYDPTQNDfFZXl5TTghHmZ6CMGPwWqDpyrUUD2PeEonfivRWe9SQD0kxUmuw7TKlOZAleO/w400-h336/Nozkowski+5a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> <br /><br />In the painting above, with its interlocking masses of organic shapes, blues alongside greens, I think of a landscape, perhaps turned on its side, but the bright promise of these forms is belied by the subtle blacks behind them, peopled by rounded forms rising out of the dark, like ghosts. Nozkowski's handling of paint is masterly in its myriad approaches: in this painting clear, crisp, opaque forms backed by vertical transparencies, all in perfect pitch. Of course, photographs flatten the complexities of the paint. (If you click on the image you'll see it in more detail.)<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdD0q538k_Vl-ctZXRPD7OsyrZe-VGjdrhA0o2tGXIvh3rdRmcujLzKsFj8lQZd3jymtLzUsqcfv4wRTA0LQ8HBo5-tgIbinBDnZc0YOIZOLeQIQfa9vqSuG-svhwhhRGTIaHKekG9LcnL/s1200/Nozkowski+4.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1019" data-original-width="1200" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdD0q538k_Vl-ctZXRPD7OsyrZe-VGjdrhA0o2tGXIvh3rdRmcujLzKsFj8lQZd3jymtLzUsqcfv4wRTA0LQ8HBo5-tgIbinBDnZc0YOIZOLeQIQfa9vqSuG-svhwhhRGTIaHKekG9LcnL/w640-h544/Nozkowski+4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Floating colored circles are seen through transparent, undulating shapes, like things seen under water. The image seems airy and lyrical, but the stark white circles, some partially overlapped, startle in their contrast. I can be tempted to try to discern the source of Nozkowski's images, since all come from out in the real world––perhaps landscape or film or literature––but ultimately it's not important that we know. In a terrific <a href="https://www.artnews.com/art-news/artists/the-real-question-is-what-do-we-desire-thomas-nozkowski-on-art-consciousness-and-endurance-5963/" target="_blank">interview with the artist in Art News in 2016</a>, he explains his painting ideas and approaches at length. One thing he said about sources: <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, here’s the thing, once you say you’re using sources and you have content, people think that’s the end of the story—that’s what it’s about. But of course you know absolutely nothing...</span></span></p><p></p></blockquote><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItOBpS58xENcAUD2vVWCIYlogZgDj3_4SzrDGAwiWyIhKAXLCmBgygcccbbk1vOnpx92_qu3Cr20sHNJeBbxL4yYfbL7QK9SAEPI_0NQaAQunTaGKG3nnMPNF0eDSOXX2IuTuPEQQVoLW/s1000/Nozkowski+4a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="1000" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItOBpS58xENcAUD2vVWCIYlogZgDj3_4SzrDGAwiWyIhKAXLCmBgygcccbbk1vOnpx92_qu3Cr20sHNJeBbxL4yYfbL7QK9SAEPI_0NQaAQunTaGKG3nnMPNF0eDSOXX2IuTuPEQQVoLW/w400-h309/Nozkowski+4a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p>To illustrate that knowing nothing, a story: I recently commented on a friend's abstract painting online, writing that I found it very poignant. It turned out that it was inspired by seeing an echocardiogram of his elderly father's heart. Of course I could never have guessed that source, but was moved by the painting without knowing. The quality of the form told its story. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9sNUWI9I2kwd5IULnZtivsJBzXdESD9nI3m9njGS-DzFgdHDtjI4MjDM2vSMfVoWYT4mN0QYPN3GBZiAG3Xyzzavb-90ch9bqaekbDhlEDvrkWzTr3tGGmbN3mWu7UUf65oeeiLqnJntm/s1200/Nozkowski+3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="1200" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9sNUWI9I2kwd5IULnZtivsJBzXdESD9nI3m9njGS-DzFgdHDtjI4MjDM2vSMfVoWYT4mN0QYPN3GBZiAG3Xyzzavb-90ch9bqaekbDhlEDvrkWzTr3tGGmbN3mWu7UUf65oeeiLqnJntm/w640-h504/Nozkowski+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />A viaduct of colors crosses black and white terrain, connecting shapes recalling water and land. I love the way the solid mass of blue, a stable element, contrasts with the jazzy goings on––disparate yet connected––in the black and white center of the painting.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vDwqC3wzePGvX1zEGZgSj4XAvkWJCQXH_pb-DFJ2q-TT-lzaDhcqUEI28thiLWqoXLu7GSAOvo1PNIK7QvNMAuAe6isOOIDaSlOJY1pj9jyo0agT9aI0Qww7WKv_Syba8UrDPWaeW9Wb/s1207/Nozkowski+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="968" data-original-width="1207" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vDwqC3wzePGvX1zEGZgSj4XAvkWJCQXH_pb-DFJ2q-TT-lzaDhcqUEI28thiLWqoXLu7GSAOvo1PNIK7QvNMAuAe6isOOIDaSlOJY1pj9jyo0agT9aI0Qww7WKv_Syba8UrDPWaeW9Wb/w640-h514/Nozkowski+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Here is another painting in which the center is a total surprise in its radical difference from what surrounds it. I'm in awe of how Nozkowski came up with these ideas, and with the techniques to pull them off. Strongly colored shapes, outlined in pale yellow, border, on two sides, a busy field of red and yellow.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUlhzn_tEIkqC7_LBv9hSx-s3eog1SzYGOVG3G8TTW6lbCCWdG0F3-fY30l2NBficL4DNC4TQydto1xwvJss3c4CIbwJdMWFt5FWNyp1PtnMNU6wlmyJiDviqHWRylwNK8vFoh2ug2bCYx/s1000/Nozkowski+2a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUlhzn_tEIkqC7_LBv9hSx-s3eog1SzYGOVG3G8TTW6lbCCWdG0F3-fY30l2NBficL4DNC4TQydto1xwvJss3c4CIbwJdMWFt5FWNyp1PtnMNU6wlmyJiDviqHWRylwNK8vFoh2ug2bCYx/w400-h300/Nozkowski+2a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The area of actively criss-crossing yellow lines on red creates, for me, an atmospheric effect, a shimmering in light, that sits behind the "window" of the foreground shapes. It is like a bright spring morning.</div><div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0BeQzlPXUy_UyNb4lGdw1z5Q6VTNIYPl2vxG2783Omaop856hwnfXOKYl0Jhxd6OmAsmy6b_A0A6y7vlMmzuK5e3F_8oxaAufyfi9q2gjpMOw_qeCYi0WLVpZxAAdxTmRqygTqin1IdOy/s1200/Nozkowski+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1200" height="517" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0BeQzlPXUy_UyNb4lGdw1z5Q6VTNIYPl2vxG2783Omaop856hwnfXOKYl0Jhxd6OmAsmy6b_A0A6y7vlMmzuK5e3F_8oxaAufyfi9q2gjpMOw_qeCYi0WLVpZxAAdxTmRqygTqin1IdOy/w640-h517/Nozkowski+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Irregular colored shapes float gently––or are they broken pieces falling?––above a cool gray ground, which is composed of many small adjoining and overlapping shapes. The foreground shapes are primarily soft greens, but then there's that insistent red square and the orange shape alongside it. The red square demands attention, as if to say that things aren't as you expect them to be; that there's always a surprise in store. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtq0xSMsTA9Gcn9BjGEbqof-TRl-KXLUxWwiwGjFx6QRExX6UB1gSdZ_FKIpxtPwo9r7omlxQ1cEFIpitW38enMO-gp1bIdw3H5p1EG1yxhKJ0QEojJWrsn1X1e7eJNIwHnBvQ4rroit6Q/s1200/Nozkowski+1a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1200" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtq0xSMsTA9Gcn9BjGEbqof-TRl-KXLUxWwiwGjFx6QRExX6UB1gSdZ_FKIpxtPwo9r7omlxQ1cEFIpitW38enMO-gp1bIdw3H5p1EG1yxhKJ0QEojJWrsn1X1e7eJNIwHnBvQ4rroit6Q/w400-h339/Nozkowski+1a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><p></p></div><div>Another surprise is that there is a gray shape that overlaps the corner of the orange one. Even though the grays are painted delicately, transparently, here one breaks its polite place in space and moves forward. This is such a great twist, one that upends certainties. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seeing Thomas Nozkowski's last paintings was an exhilarating experience. With his vivid painterly imagination he presents to us wide-ranging, glorious human possibilities. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-2865303281898081132021-10-31T16:51:00.002-04:002021-10-31T16:58:09.071-04:00John Chamberlain: Material and Meaning<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYsg1JRX2_I1S0zYxzqdlhaS_UKanjl4MSCEY1GxC4UIAt8QdXW0vbEFo-OcvtotDP_tvVHfJDm3FpQzQT4d3jQ-f668x4uu8u476WOEJBsNxwbE9ZT-t9ZU-mb71s8oEdXjtDl-qBCGoc/s1200/John+Chamberlain+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="921" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYsg1JRX2_I1S0zYxzqdlhaS_UKanjl4MSCEY1GxC4UIAt8QdXW0vbEFo-OcvtotDP_tvVHfJDm3FpQzQT4d3jQ-f668x4uu8u476WOEJBsNxwbE9ZT-t9ZU-mb71s8oEdXjtDl-qBCGoc/w308-h400/John+Chamberlain+1.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I've recently been having very interesting conversations about the meaning that is embedded in an artwork: are we to see abstract work as a composition consisting of shape, color, space, light, or is there content in addition to the formal concerns of the work? John Chamberlain is an interesting artist to think of in this context. <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2012/04/john-chamberlain-crumpled-color.html" target="_blank">I wrote about the marvelous retrospective</a> at the Guggenheim Museum in 2012, where I saw the sculpture as purely about color and shape, and surprising moments of juxtaposition and detail. Seeing a stunning show of <a href="https://gagosian.com/exhibitions/2021/john-chamberlain-stance-rhythm-and-tilt/" target="_blank">Chamberlain's sculpture currently at Gagosian Gallery</a> has prodded me to think about what it means that he used industrial scrap metal and parts of cars in his sculpture. </p>In the work above––I'm sorry not to have titles and dates, but some galleries have taken to not having check lists, or even reproducing the work on their websites, which is very frustrating––a curved red clamshell shape sits atop crumpled blue forms, almost like an open mouth. Are we to think of a figure? <p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgpT2jzRAzL5uPYuYerKFiUN2-tqzU-YZxp7MoPOjxYiNrLuU5d-gPlVznGvVr18mJK1BM-wRV-oBPTpcYT3o9sdKRFOM7jjqbe7PiZ46OJCDiD67epfJqBoaIcuErAT-TxhCXO69jubO/s1500/John+Chamberlain+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgpT2jzRAzL5uPYuYerKFiUN2-tqzU-YZxp7MoPOjxYiNrLuU5d-gPlVznGvVr18mJK1BM-wRV-oBPTpcYT3o9sdKRFOM7jjqbe7PiZ46OJCDiD67epfJqBoaIcuErAT-TxhCXO69jubO/w640-h480/John+Chamberlain+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>This very large sculpture of compressed and varied forms, one side primarily blues, another yellows, made me think of a landscape in its multitudinous parts and its complexity. It also feels like a raucous free jazz composition, form piled upon form, sometimes discordant, in other parts fluid. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpYxH__wxUq3Ca3IEwhrAMJpyd7908Py8ikqa-hyRQDvt8CxdFzMI0OsZf-_R-TBuKRnSrQqSsFcyRdY9t_6UBOONuriAtmWRYl5J19XlWFp8NeCxO1oam47e3_XzVxkMuO5NyzQFNknL/s1500/John+Chamberlain+3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1196" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpYxH__wxUq3Ca3IEwhrAMJpyd7908Py8ikqa-hyRQDvt8CxdFzMI0OsZf-_R-TBuKRnSrQqSsFcyRdY9t_6UBOONuriAtmWRYl5J19XlWFp8NeCxO1oam47e3_XzVxkMuO5NyzQFNknL/w319-h400/John+Chamberlain+3.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I couldn't help but see a crowd of moving figures, as though on a busy sidewalk. This is such a dynamic piece, and it reminded me of <a href="https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/monument-199072" target="_blank">Philip Guston's painting </a><i><a href="https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/monument-199072" target="_blank">Monument</a>, </i>a scrum of legs and feet. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nEb6wrxHfRBVFokI6KxzSxGep6e6GX4yeQs9ePA4IwA0jeHopwp-UZoaj4AfvIjA9i3YII9Qk6aEPj0Du_c7FJmses86Vi4JG8N2hxqtEaZbT4hOOw5y9elK78JpallecE2GTIsto57a/s1500/John+Chamberlain+4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1168" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0nEb6wrxHfRBVFokI6KxzSxGep6e6GX4yeQs9ePA4IwA0jeHopwp-UZoaj4AfvIjA9i3YII9Qk6aEPj0Du_c7FJmses86Vi4JG8N2hxqtEaZbT4hOOw5y9elK78JpallecE2GTIsto57a/w498-h640/John+Chamberlain+4.jpg" width="498" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>This is a stunningly dramatic piece, with smooth thin forms reaching high, fluid rounded shapes nestled one against the other. But all these observations of mine are about image, what the whole of the sculpture brings to mind. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dilqZB3lnvX38c0SZ8T1ZCtA3QK8ilxLFQY84nkmJCzBiVPkb-uYDZSZ_NY-7PwSZoOeumXGuk3vrJRBXeizA5I-oo6XhxsT0RGy2UhGNfS8X9U2YzMLO7L09cms6pCXtxExoboJbwOP/s1200/John+Chamberlain+5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="948" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5dilqZB3lnvX38c0SZ8T1ZCtA3QK8ilxLFQY84nkmJCzBiVPkb-uYDZSZ_NY-7PwSZoOeumXGuk3vrJRBXeizA5I-oo6XhxsT0RGy2UhGNfS8X9U2YzMLO7L09cms6pCXtxExoboJbwOP/w506-h640/John+Chamberlain+5.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>As here, with another monumental piece that looks to me like an animated creature, rustling as it moves. Chamberlain's magical expertise with folding, crushing, and welding sometimes lets us forget that this is metal that he's working with, and not malleable clay or cloth. </p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Vt4TeKjj-F1gANkGk3KaL9TWgDbYMj11d9Lj94ts4dv_3sQoL_RSb6s1dBWH52oup-ZFITv-8D9gQWu0BbUL3FFM4UvwsVnmzffzhmiVnJGSEgkRKcRoOvX1E7Dvwdfyhh4OG3NmzQFy/s1200/John+Chamberlain+7a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="875" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Vt4TeKjj-F1gANkGk3KaL9TWgDbYMj11d9Lj94ts4dv_3sQoL_RSb6s1dBWH52oup-ZFITv-8D9gQWu0BbUL3FFM4UvwsVnmzffzhmiVnJGSEgkRKcRoOvX1E7Dvwdfyhh4OG3NmzQFy/w466-h640/John+Chamberlain+7a.jpg" width="466" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yet there is metal's rigidity and sharp edges, its shiny surfaces, its shapes that are sometimes clearly part of an automobile's body.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMagGK-3u_9dK70Sgc9xYRMxVAui4me43RZdwG40jjluUZOC-PIKw_J5jP5NxAIUAVlDU_nt0rRXLKjtYiWszDSfZSC3dLaQr5XJj5HXKL1YRuZcxttQ-0pVIOS3XL9n-4DLdDVflnH8Aw/s728/John+Chamberlain+7b+cropped.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="670" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMagGK-3u_9dK70Sgc9xYRMxVAui4me43RZdwG40jjluUZOC-PIKw_J5jP5NxAIUAVlDU_nt0rRXLKjtYiWszDSfZSC3dLaQr5XJj5HXKL1YRuZcxttQ-0pVIOS3XL9n-4DLdDVflnH8Aw/w369-h400/John+Chamberlain+7b+cropped.jpg" width="369" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In this detail of the other side of the sculpture pictured above, Chamberlain has included parts of a car that are clearly elements of a bumper, smoothly protruding; they could be from a <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-curves-of-yesteryear.html" target="_blank">1951 Ford coupe</a>. Does this clear reference to the origin of Chamberlain's materials indicate that some of the meaning of his work lies in industrial automobile manufacture? is there a critique of American addiction to cars and the open road? or a paean to American know-how and design, as with the <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/prec/hd_prec.htm" target="_blank">American Precisionists </a>of the early 20th century? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I would answer "no", for the most part. Of course I have to acknowledge the source of Chamberlain's materials, but for me that does not determine the meaning of the work, which I find in responding to its form. I don't know if he was attracted to scrap metal because of its origins, or because of the way it behaved and looked when made into a sculpture. Chamberlain himself, in speaking of the meaning of his work said:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); color: #202122; font-size: 14px;"><blockquote>"Even if I knew, I could only know what I thought it meant."</blockquote></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); font-size: 14px;">We artists cannot determine what meaning observers find in our work. What we prefer people to see is not always what they <i>will</i> see. For me, looking at a non-objective work is a rich experience, noting the way form and color interact, the quietude or dynamism of a composition. I find meaning in these things, and a deep emotional satisfaction. In recent years I've had two extraordinary experiences standing in front of a painting, paintings which caused me to weep at their beauty and depth of feeling. One was at the National Gallery in London: </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span face="sans-serif" style="color: #202122;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAgdBUAE3x-WfeSjb5zwZ2ZQlnWs668Z9KhBQWpWdK7KHFmPqtJ7rkk8KrAQpfSn_kFIF9cIMuWUyKueP5N-oQj0XPNLQo5MDhDKtM98VtroFRLUlIB9T3ZtulR4BnUQpsQR6PE3ln0aS/s2100/Piero+di+Cosimo%252C+Satyr+Mourning+a+Nymph+print.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="2100" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAgdBUAE3x-WfeSjb5zwZ2ZQlnWs668Z9KhBQWpWdK7KHFmPqtJ7rkk8KrAQpfSn_kFIF9cIMuWUyKueP5N-oQj0XPNLQo5MDhDKtM98VtroFRLUlIB9T3ZtulR4BnUQpsQR6PE3ln0aS/w640-h216/Piero+di+Cosimo%252C+Satyr+Mourning+a+Nymph+print.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piero di Cosimo, Satyr Mourning a Nymph, ca. 1495</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 34); font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wrote about this remarkably tender painting <a href="https://paintersonpaintings.com/altoon-sultan-piero-di-cosimo/" target="_blank">here</a>. Not only is the narrative touching, but the form and structure of the work are in perfect harmony with its story.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The other was a Mondrian in the collection of the Hartford Atheneum:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsWNbmk64Vskccd1tP7GmxRD9_c8CNrLliGAuMaz6z5qTyscZ_se5D6oExioIBoO8bnejZvfOBe0eK_q3TLBznEG0UIxDvw_AoTybm8D6am1VL4An9kfuWVJQIHB5IAdNqspYEqWjJzh8/s1200/12792093_10153596658839601_8282751242091940369_o.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsWNbmk64Vskccd1tP7GmxRD9_c8CNrLliGAuMaz6z5qTyscZ_se5D6oExioIBoO8bnejZvfOBe0eK_q3TLBznEG0UIxDvw_AoTybm8D6am1VL4An9kfuWVJQIHB5IAdNqspYEqWjJzh8/w546-h640/12792093_10153596658839601_8282751242091940369_o.jpeg" width="546" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piet Mondrian, Composition in Blue and White, 1935</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>The simplicity and perfection of this painting struck me so strongly. In a photo image it appears much more flatly painted than it does in person. My point in showing these two paintings, so different in subject and separated by centuries, is that response to a work does not have to be tied to its subject; meaning can reside in narrative, and it also can be found in pure form. To be honest, I was surprised at my unbidden spell of weeping in front of the Mondrian, but it proves to me that a reductive work of art can be as important to me as one of representation and narrative; form in itself carries meaning. <p></p><p><br /></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-52630875783239184732021-10-07T17:45:00.003-04:002021-10-07T17:47:09.852-04:00For Eggplant Lovers: Fried Eggplant Patties<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsSfhf9uZpOHXHggz5puJHPRKzLC-VLHrpx8hbcCe2-mS0SdzL12GjAfkB8otLX0de_KlivY2w-AqaT9d4F8oLFSDf0vLVvELpS_Hq3VeRn8srVdJg525iXL01ASVJ1xSoOZahIkhUcom/s1500/eggplant+patties.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsSfhf9uZpOHXHggz5puJHPRKzLC-VLHrpx8hbcCe2-mS0SdzL12GjAfkB8otLX0de_KlivY2w-AqaT9d4F8oLFSDf0vLVvELpS_Hq3VeRn8srVdJg525iXL01ASVJ1xSoOZahIkhUcom/w400-h320/eggplant+patties.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>It's been a very long time since I posted a recipe on this blog. But during the summer I fell in love with a recipe from Marcella Hazan's <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Essentials-Classic-Italian-Cooking-Marcella/dp/039458404X/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1633386445&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking</a></i>, so I wanted to share it. I had a huge crop of eggplants this past summer, and Hazan's "Eggplant Patties with Parsley, Garlic, and Parmesan" was an delicious way to use them. <p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujrrQnCOncmKE4dCCTP3gSH6h1YmsMvK0FMJnfrwPN8m1Dwce-Vsh9CoLXaKAfTIq5HLiaKNM8OXsID_BI-XIQf7Iq6t_h6tBumZxLYN4sLwwswYaa60VKAa89Cp-Ey8U_lZgkvdo4h0Z/s1500/roasted+eggplants.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujrrQnCOncmKE4dCCTP3gSH6h1YmsMvK0FMJnfrwPN8m1Dwce-Vsh9CoLXaKAfTIq5HLiaKNM8OXsID_BI-XIQf7Iq6t_h6tBumZxLYN4sLwwswYaa60VKAa89Cp-Ey8U_lZgkvdo4h0Z/w400-h300/roasted+eggplants.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>I did change one aspect of the recipe: in her instructions, Hazan tells us to bake whole eggplants in a 400º oven until tender, about 40 minutes. When I first tried this recipe a year or two ago, that's how I cooked the eggplants and the result, to me, was ho-hum. Instead, I decided to cook the eggplants over an open flame on the stove until they were soft and blackened, as I've cooked them for <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/08/eggplant-salad.html" target="_blank">eggplant salad, recipe here</a>. The result is a deep, smoky flavor that adds tremendous richness to the patties. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>About 2 pounds eggplant</li><li>1/2 cup unflavored bread crumbs (I use Panko)</li><li>3 Tbs parsley, chopped fine</li><li>2 garlic cloves, chopped very fine (I like lots of garlic; my home-grown cloves are huge)</li><li>1 egg</li><li>3 Tbs freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese</li><li>salt</li><li>freshly ground black papper</li><li>Vegetable oil</li><li>Flour, spread on a plate</li></ul><div>1. Cook the eggplants over a direct flame on the stove, turning them until they are charred all over and easily pierced with a two-tined fork.</div><div>2. When cool enough to handle, slip off skins, cut eggplant in large pieces––I also remove any large, hard masses of seeds––and place in a colander to drain, at least 15 minutes. You can gently squeeze the eggplant to help it release moisture. </div><div>3. Finely chop the eggplant and combine in a bowl with bread crumbs, parsley, garlic, egg, parmesan, salt, and pepper. Mix thoroughly. </div><div>4. Shape into small patties around 2 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick. Smaller patties give a crispier result. </div><div>5. Put enough vegetable oil in a skillet to come 1/4 inch up the sides (Hazan recommends 1/2 inch, but I use less), and turn the heat to high. When the oil is very hot, turn the patties in the flour on both sides and put into the pan; don't crowd them. When they're nicely browned on one side, turn them. When done, drain on a paper towel-lined pan or plate. Serve hot or lukewarm.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy! this makes a lot of patties; the recipe says it serves 4 to 6. I heat my leftovers by putting them in a hot skillet, which maintains the crispmess. </div><div><br /></div><div>And if you're interested, another of my favorite ways to prepare eggplant is frying the slices, I eat them in a <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/search?q=eggplant" target="_blank">pita bread sandwich, recipe here</a>, or use for a <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2012/01/from-freezer-with-recipe-for-eggplant.html" target="_blank">pasta sauce with tomatoes, recipe here</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-11050441211274287902021-09-24T18:39:00.004-04:002021-09-24T18:49:56.939-04:00The Blasted Tree: A Visual Metaphor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjRqxeMmgJy5RZu9j1JuE9bL91Ysw3oLhIr2ZT1FJD1JlynXVGB_qd8oVfTlxebO25jY7ESlryTZ8pucvt86T-LdD31gsOmvNsKj58rND3KWOuZ3lcbnbHYa2giQGoXzKUSEkfma21Iin/s1500/1+Blasted+tree+in+woods.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjRqxeMmgJy5RZu9j1JuE9bL91Ysw3oLhIr2ZT1FJD1JlynXVGB_qd8oVfTlxebO25jY7ESlryTZ8pucvt86T-LdD31gsOmvNsKj58rND3KWOuZ3lcbnbHYa2giQGoXzKUSEkfma21Iin/w400-h300/1+Blasted+tree+in+woods.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />On a recent walk through the woods I saw that a large tree had two of its limbs shattered, possibly by a lightning strike. The breaks looked violent, with jagged edges, and an aggressive split. It's startling to see this damage amidst calm, leafy trees. And yet, it's a part of nature's cycle of destruction, decay, and regrowth. I wrote about this pattern <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2021/05/growth-decay-growth.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Seeing this tree made me think of all the images of blasted trees in landscape paintings, and their meaning within those landscapes. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13DBot_3pEiG7TXZjnDHtMBaJeiWD2gfhV732EWHioDAqhbSjCI740bzzY3d4KR-mCCLJL3t_FqgOkA_pi5wtTtX6l_CAT-XbIWk7qLiWRvsMYtfEcGwGb1RaEm1VeUT-_4LQ-X_rPLeL/s1024/1+Jacob_van_Ruisdael_-_Landscape_with_a_Half-Timbered_House_and_a_Blasted_Tree%252C+1653%252C+.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="839" data-original-width="1024" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13DBot_3pEiG7TXZjnDHtMBaJeiWD2gfhV732EWHioDAqhbSjCI740bzzY3d4KR-mCCLJL3t_FqgOkA_pi5wtTtX6l_CAT-XbIWk7qLiWRvsMYtfEcGwGb1RaEm1VeUT-_4LQ-X_rPLeL/w400-h328/1+Jacob_van_Ruisdael_-_Landscape_with_a_Half-Timbered_House_and_a_Blasted_Tree%252C+1653%252C+.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob van Ruysdael, Landscape with a Half-timbered House and a Blasted Tree, 1653</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>In her <a href="https://hyperallergic.com/131541/the-romantic-symbolism-of-trees/" target="_blank">essay on Romantic landscape painting</a> in Hyperallergic, Allison Meier writes:</div><div><blockquote>What's important is that the tree is usually still living, leaves clinging to its battered branches. To the Romantics, it represented the cycle of nature, from death to life, all at once. </blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SbYzU_Ps0J_mjBrEjDVKn1SU7rcLF4NWTf5lmKvE_QKDmKKF8HqEC3VLy9qGxIVTTCAMP0LbkgMwREFvpgG2UlrosJyYhwql3EiDQ8eO7Bt4Il6DN_T3xzkBhB5f6A6i5b6OI6hmOq4C/s1200/2+Thomas+Hearne%252C+Blasted+Tree+Near+a+Lake%252C+1803.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="874" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SbYzU_Ps0J_mjBrEjDVKn1SU7rcLF4NWTf5lmKvE_QKDmKKF8HqEC3VLy9qGxIVTTCAMP0LbkgMwREFvpgG2UlrosJyYhwql3EiDQ8eO7Bt4Il6DN_T3xzkBhB5f6A6i5b6OI6hmOq4C/w291-h400/2+Thomas+Hearne%252C+Blasted+Tree+Near+a+Lake%252C+1803.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas Hearne, Blasted Tree Near a Lake, 1803</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>In Mary Shelley's <i>Frankenstein, </i>(1818)<i>, </i>Victor Frankenstein describes himself as a blasted tree:</div><div><blockquote>But I am a blasted tree: the bolt has entered my soul, and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be – a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others, and intolerable to myself. </blockquote><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVsoJQtMqfZl1OifFnW9J9CUMEp5T7cYGKZKSmzApFi-Dj5uDjOs5PfI_X6p23pc7aGYAMcXwcltKWPXVN1dCAr5figcVm9iXpfjNfSHnld9rXx2JqS40-fmCNqhNnj2xAeDfUoLBPFt5/s1200/3+William+Blake%252C+Blasted+Trees+and+Flattened+Crops%252C+1821.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="1200" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQVsoJQtMqfZl1OifFnW9J9CUMEp5T7cYGKZKSmzApFi-Dj5uDjOs5PfI_X6p23pc7aGYAMcXwcltKWPXVN1dCAr5figcVm9iXpfjNfSHnld9rXx2JqS40-fmCNqhNnj2xAeDfUoLBPFt5/w400-h204/3+William+Blake%252C+Blasted+Trees+and+Flattened+Crops%252C+1821.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Blake, Blasted Trees and Flattened Crops, 1821</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The idea of the blasted tree has great emotional weight. In Blake's wood engraving the tree is so much like a storm-tossed human figure, bent by the wind, with a few leaves clinging to its outstretched arms. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1paWyoTo_t23-JkWB2C1mkYcTNB1gfLm7TgWrx705ClHTcvdBqFTKT1nWpTNS7luby4A_wdcB9ZLBSWe_8LTrFvxru7taBVNDgr5D6jpokNqErBlcDmzqaHf-x18ea8Kfqlopz8jZUIY/s958/4+Frederic_Edwin_Church_-_Storm_in_the_Mountains%252C+1847.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1paWyoTo_t23-JkWB2C1mkYcTNB1gfLm7TgWrx705ClHTcvdBqFTKT1nWpTNS7luby4A_wdcB9ZLBSWe_8LTrFvxru7taBVNDgr5D6jpokNqErBlcDmzqaHf-x18ea8Kfqlopz8jZUIY/w334-h400/4+Frederic_Edwin_Church_-_Storm_in_the_Mountains%252C+1847.jpg" width="334" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frederic Church, Storm in the Mountains, 1847</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A solitary tree, its trunk split and broken, stands high above a turbulent landscape. It is as though Church is pointing to pride and resilience in the face of turmoil. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOnsS3Udxk30ZuXXXT4A9dcjwhUXYxq_5Wv3BkJK60jnACNYD1oF2c4vnZTQcasunFfeSZtTZBzUHDQj30Ios20RPEK1kVyKyO8c_-KTayII1PgyaP8JQ7mWXzk1GULUbwSxlUwf89Kng/s1100/5+Blasted+Tree%252C+Jasper+Cropsey%252C+1850.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="847" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvOnsS3Udxk30ZuXXXT4A9dcjwhUXYxq_5Wv3BkJK60jnACNYD1oF2c4vnZTQcasunFfeSZtTZBzUHDQj30Ios20RPEK1kVyKyO8c_-KTayII1PgyaP8JQ7mWXzk1GULUbwSxlUwf89Kng/w308-h400/5+Blasted+Tree%252C+Jasper+Cropsey%252C+1850.jpg" width="308" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasper Cropsey, Blasted Tree, 1850</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Like in the Church painting, Cropsey situates his damaged tree high up on a precipice, overlooking a dark, foreboding landscape. This painting feels despondent to me, the blasted tree crushed, the light in the sky nearly obliterated. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihXR67Vjjyfwcu7nnYLbEWDME7zXcB9LaLXfswdXb_DjgYXlAr-VbWGm2x_qZ5UujHZHkaw_CCZV5OuoKzyiPqRzeN0DFRbNV4T8SsS8viMV2I8ksswTI__f7_cv8BMj4hw6LwVjf8v-b9/s1501/5+Lawren+Harris%252C+North+Shore%252C+Lake+Superior%252C+1926+.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1183" data-original-width="1501" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihXR67Vjjyfwcu7nnYLbEWDME7zXcB9LaLXfswdXb_DjgYXlAr-VbWGm2x_qZ5UujHZHkaw_CCZV5OuoKzyiPqRzeN0DFRbNV4T8SsS8viMV2I8ksswTI__f7_cv8BMj4hw6LwVjf8v-b9/w400-h316/5+Lawren+Harris%252C+North+Shore%252C+Lake+Superior%252C+1926+.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lawren Harris, North Shore, Lake Superior, 1926 </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In this painting––the only one I could find on this theme from the 20th century––Harris presents a more optimistic vision of a solitary damaged tree. The tall, central tree is bathed in light; its curving forms reach skyward, an evocation of positive striving. In the history of the arts, our relationship with nature has provided many metaphors, including this one of the blasted tree. Simon Schama wrote a brilliant book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Landscape-Memory-Simon-Schama/dp/0679735127/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2PKMXCVURG0JN&dchild=1&keywords=landscape+and+memory+simon+schama&qid=1632511562&s=books&sprefix=landscape+and+memory%2Caps%2C362&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Landscape and Memory,</a></i> on the various myths and strong cultural connections that we have to the different landscapes surrounding us. In his introduction he wrote:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><blockquote>...the various ecosystems that sustain life on the planet proceed independently of human agency...But it is also true that it is difficult to think of a single such natural system that has not, for better or worse, been substantially modified by human culture...And it is this irreversibly modified world, from the polar caps to the equatorial forests, that is all the nature we have.</blockquote></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-58500892677363325492021-09-09T15:57:00.001-04:002021-09-09T15:57:28.498-04:00The Vegetable Garden: Aesthetic and Gustatory Pleasures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XAtk77ZMHJpwND3AmLk8VCytGMaQVKLh4PDL8AgI1AGJuu1VGxmS6FCj8Olt-zPa2ss1y5k3_8IAuLffq4YUFD2ewc80iHrqJIeLqbLSYyQgx4g2CAFef4B_8W_qi5P6PxXk2N-rfWgx/s1200/1+vegetable+basket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="1200" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4XAtk77ZMHJpwND3AmLk8VCytGMaQVKLh4PDL8AgI1AGJuu1VGxmS6FCj8Olt-zPa2ss1y5k3_8IAuLffq4YUFD2ewc80iHrqJIeLqbLSYyQgx4g2CAFef4B_8W_qi5P6PxXk2N-rfWgx/w400-h318/1+vegetable+basket.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I love my vegetable garden. What could be more wonderful than bringing a basket of just-picked vegetables into the house for a meal? It's not just the taste that is important––you'll never buy a potato as good as one that's homegrown––but there is also the act of planting a seed, then watching the seedlings emerge, grow, and bear fruit. Even after almost 30 years of raising vegetables in this place, it still seems a magical process. It's a process of hit and miss––some years a great eggplant crop, another year hardly a one; sometimes insects go on the rampage––but there are always enough successes; it's a process of hope. As Margaret Atwood wrote:<div><blockquote>Gardening is not a rational act. </blockquote><div>And May Sarton, in <i>At Seventy: A Journal:</i></div><div><blockquote>A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.</blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDFTXIthIkkbiAGFgfwsiFvGl1CTfReQVJbz_1FDBkmIvVjbwbdhHOjNM9DHTVICPEhXoAtw-dV2wK9V2YtrtvhnZ5kLCxHyTCFAFCusNC21770t1YwugOTQckNsb60b3xHJ0d2lYQO4-/s1500/2+sunflowers+and+corn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="1500" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjDFTXIthIkkbiAGFgfwsiFvGl1CTfReQVJbz_1FDBkmIvVjbwbdhHOjNM9DHTVICPEhXoAtw-dV2wK9V2YtrtvhnZ5kLCxHyTCFAFCusNC21770t1YwugOTQckNsb60b3xHJ0d2lYQO4-/w640-h558/2+sunflowers+and+corn.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Although I've mostly given up on my flower borders, concentrating my energy on growing vegetables, I do plant some flowers amongst the the food crops. It's a delight to look out at my garden and see towering sunflowers, adding good cheer to the scene. These are Lemon Queen, and this plant grew to 8 feet tall this summer. But it's not just the sunflowers that I find beautiful; each vegetable plant has its own aesthetic qualities. Corn tassels pointing into the air are like delicate waving fingers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnCHduZAG_4NK0_0F96FF6_qWp_9hdSCitmXNUpOwrllurEaI65WA0F9BkXhoEPhRVwp9-3hYK_pI9VIh2673WDqT8J9PeQ-jhQ6ohXOr7aW4zYuf6RT4VtfXAIUxnBPZUyn8Hwou5iLV/s1100/4+carmen+peppers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="798" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnCHduZAG_4NK0_0F96FF6_qWp_9hdSCitmXNUpOwrllurEaI65WA0F9BkXhoEPhRVwp9-3hYK_pI9VIh2673WDqT8J9PeQ-jhQ6ohXOr7aW4zYuf6RT4VtfXAIUxnBPZUyn8Hwou5iLV/w292-h400/4+carmen+peppers.jpg" width="292" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A sweet pepper plant shows off its dazzling fruit, lovely to see, and to taste. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14bdPURq6M55V7gklvBJwWkbXWbUF_oeV4WZNUD_phE3iFI5ItHT7M-iTcQi-SdLpOQ5RMpCez0P-eoU7hyphenhyphenQppQqMIR_CR4TyoLaIEA-NW9WqmythXZ7YxEofp6B8-0us5tMfW6CK_aL9/s1176/deer+tongue+lettuce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="1176" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi14bdPURq6M55V7gklvBJwWkbXWbUF_oeV4WZNUD_phE3iFI5ItHT7M-iTcQi-SdLpOQ5RMpCez0P-eoU7hyphenhyphenQppQqMIR_CR4TyoLaIEA-NW9WqmythXZ7YxEofp6B8-0us5tMfW6CK_aL9/w400-h356/deer+tongue+lettuce.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Lettuces, with leaves of various shapes radiating from a center, are as beautiful as floral bouquets. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYDY6kAIWdoFQvpj6jiQJL7qe-vrFFjVLAX42ptqneQudCwCzEP5eykqN7ES49euZbPFwrcehU64fQs-9HaawJJZ6F7Rm5p5ceUzmHuyYgQSFsFzq0dpKps74embi5IoYB39gWZ-rHjuo/s1200/red+cabbage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1041" data-original-width="1200" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYDY6kAIWdoFQvpj6jiQJL7qe-vrFFjVLAX42ptqneQudCwCzEP5eykqN7ES49euZbPFwrcehU64fQs-9HaawJJZ6F7Rm5p5ceUzmHuyYgQSFsFzq0dpKps74embi5IoYB39gWZ-rHjuo/w400-h349/red+cabbage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Red cabbage, a grand leafy vegetable, has gorgeous leaves surrounding a stunning volleyball-sized center. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ljCGQSb7jyIAkqaqEl5dqB-2RxemIdOspraTHfZs8AyenQTu0rqaaWw4GIYfi9chZMbXhxnn851z6boETX5KWxY2ylZRWHqk5rLhn_c6dz_mapg6rhi_si29gmlgW93Nvc74Ccst0Ksm/s1200/9+melons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1200" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ljCGQSb7jyIAkqaqEl5dqB-2RxemIdOspraTHfZs8AyenQTu0rqaaWw4GIYfi9chZMbXhxnn851z6boETX5KWxY2ylZRWHqk5rLhn_c6dz_mapg6rhi_si29gmlgW93Nvc74Ccst0Ksm/w400-h326/9+melons.jpg" width="400" /></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I feel so much satisfaction in looking at my harvested crops. They are a reward of hard work, and I'm happy just contemplating them before eating. These three melons are grown from seed from <a href="https://www.fedcoseeds.com" target="_blank">Fedco Seeds</a>, and are: on the left Alvaro, a Charentais melon; behind is a honeydew, White Honey; and on the right is a delicious hybrid, Sensation. Each of these has a different flavor, and they taste nothing like supermarket melons; oh, they are so much more delicious! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAID2aRSvu-vGrSDex_yJNxbD8XCb66_wZMPMfDGT0mZiDzkQPyA3tw9mOrJBjQ7Oqu8RltWN0WmdPjxJ3ZdjpMKDzJ-7QfFqa-clefsQwc_vIT9VN98paISrJoqm5s0Rc8N2BhPO9eR1P/s1200/8+eggplants.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="974" data-original-width="1200" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAID2aRSvu-vGrSDex_yJNxbD8XCb66_wZMPMfDGT0mZiDzkQPyA3tw9mOrJBjQ7Oqu8RltWN0WmdPjxJ3ZdjpMKDzJ-7QfFqa-clefsQwc_vIT9VN98paISrJoqm5s0Rc8N2BhPO9eR1P/w400-h325/8+eggplants.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><br />The eggplants were very happy this year, probably because of the early heat spell that we had. I love eggplant, and it's a treat to have fresh ones to cook. Two food favorites: <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2011/07/summer-treat-fried-eggplant-sandwich-on.html" target="_blank">fried eggplant sandwiches</a>, and <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/08/eggplant-salad.html" target="_blank">eggplant salad</a>, both family recipes. Click on the links for the recipes. The fried eggplant link has a bonus of a recipe for homemade pita bread. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vKRIZt15oyVIUrvfNPunyqGtVWKmoaijolvyxHgZ_KyeeJlZbwBu84E_al8F0MyVt9jul_NKpuNyeFpwhOPIr35LS3YXjcq3psiqZ5J_xA636EUmtPX8wG6u87-uwgNItk3wBh1S4qQp/s1200/3+sungold+cherry+tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="991" data-original-width="1200" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2vKRIZt15oyVIUrvfNPunyqGtVWKmoaijolvyxHgZ_KyeeJlZbwBu84E_al8F0MyVt9jul_NKpuNyeFpwhOPIr35LS3YXjcq3psiqZ5J_xA636EUmtPX8wG6u87-uwgNItk3wBh1S4qQp/w400-h331/3+sungold+cherry+tomatoes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Sungold cherry tomatoes glow on the vine. They are so delicious that I stand and eat them in the garden, popping one after another into my mouth, so they rarely make it into the house. But I can recommend a way of cooking them: toss with olive oil and sauté in a pan until soft and caramelized; simple and quite tasty. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQhi8LajJf9EoDVXrcquL5CjIr8akM9EudGCCY1DU2B9n_t1aTr4sZcnA4RHJDY-M2LE-ovFZRQTqRwl6Mks2PcLAC1REE6I9vQ0H3W6bKigUZpGAZuCoonHszbOaP5kRcc74cYSSftwQ/s1200/6+corn+in+garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQhi8LajJf9EoDVXrcquL5CjIr8akM9EudGCCY1DU2B9n_t1aTr4sZcnA4RHJDY-M2LE-ovFZRQTqRwl6Mks2PcLAC1REE6I9vQ0H3W6bKigUZpGAZuCoonHszbOaP5kRcc74cYSSftwQ/w400-h300/6+corn+in+garden.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">Another vegetable that barely makes it out of the garden to a plate is corn. The kernels are so tender and sweet that cooking isn't necessary. What a pleasure to stand out in the sun, admiring the plants around me, while eating an ear of corn.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6q8tlQd_mG2oKeX51BaVdtvZDq7u6eWJd9EV4r-IcziIIjb25Y4wyTRNygq3E0UkUok2eiQfIGJmmm73axfdPHsQm8GeeJR-TGvVMoGZGhqiI8rDWjo5TvHPub2fmI4aRXpZylHoQea1/s1200/7+winter+squash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="1200" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6q8tlQd_mG2oKeX51BaVdtvZDq7u6eWJd9EV4r-IcziIIjb25Y4wyTRNygq3E0UkUok2eiQfIGJmmm73axfdPHsQm8GeeJR-TGvVMoGZGhqiI8rDWjo5TvHPub2fmI4aRXpZylHoQea1/w400-h295/7+winter+squash.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Winter squashes are like hidden gems, nestled under rampant foliage.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEWRisvyhjh8XbwpWfleHmj9otBNJKa8PH0VvFGQUNjVHf34G__Vw1xK9f5ibIjfx0e6kLkPbCFzs5_NH6iBwEYG0tfyB4M_MJA4bzI8_NMajlgRWF-3rkJ21bzerRyjaMSbQWYDsS1GQ/s1200/10+green+tomato+jam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1101" data-original-width="1200" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEWRisvyhjh8XbwpWfleHmj9otBNJKa8PH0VvFGQUNjVHf34G__Vw1xK9f5ibIjfx0e6kLkPbCFzs5_NH6iBwEYG0tfyB4M_MJA4bzI8_NMajlgRWF-3rkJ21bzerRyjaMSbQWYDsS1GQ/w400-h368/10+green+tomato+jam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Preserving crops is an important part of gardening. Many of my crops will feed me through the winter into next spring. I make jam: rhubarb in the spring, blueberry and raspberry in early summer, and here: <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/08/green-tomato-jam.html" target="_blank">green tomato jam</a>––recipe at the link––which is similar to a marmalade. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqd14opUBlyQEH_Zfj0CuyeqnQ24_wbboNH1DHmn6-RKYKdszlorq08QFVQYFRhwAIcL3pg2ruz-eR0uP8F4ndprMkl-aZBWAdGvkAPCmvmd4U_9ieK4L7uqv59967wOsQfTFu_nzQ6yN/s1200/11+canned+tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1200" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqd14opUBlyQEH_Zfj0CuyeqnQ24_wbboNH1DHmn6-RKYKdszlorq08QFVQYFRhwAIcL3pg2ruz-eR0uP8F4ndprMkl-aZBWAdGvkAPCmvmd4U_9ieK4L7uqv59967wOsQfTFu_nzQ6yN/w400-h290/11+canned+tomatoes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I'm grateful for summers with abundant tomatoes, so I'm able to can, and to freeze sauce. I know I sound like a broken record, but home-canned tomatoes are so much more tasty than even the best canned tomatoes you can buy. I favor Juliet paste tomatoes for these purposes. For fresh eating I grow a variety of heirloom tomatoes.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWdivYetIUJ8Od6R7J-GrX22Ui0sXroqhJDQaag5KzuqBqthRNEty2H4VMJZLFU8Z9GhabiY1StsfRyjOEpUWxrCBjiwKz8tjVI1pcux4xKXaX-k-VQJR_EWd3_4NrPbos7ipeCSnJkLi/s1200/12+oat+straw+and+garlic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1123" data-original-width="1200" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWdivYetIUJ8Od6R7J-GrX22Ui0sXroqhJDQaag5KzuqBqthRNEty2H4VMJZLFU8Z9GhabiY1StsfRyjOEpUWxrCBjiwKz8tjVI1pcux4xKXaX-k-VQJR_EWd3_4NrPbos7ipeCSnJkLi/w400-h375/12+oat+straw+and+garlic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I hang some crops to dry in the mudroom, here oat straw––which I'll cut into small pieces and use for tea––and garlic. "Awe", a perfect sentiment in regards to vegetables, is the top of a <a href="https://breadandpuppet.org" target="_blank">Bread and Puppet</a> poster. </div><div><br /></div><div> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5JRO7-TVnhiUfCucFu9J2KaowLRemw0_AI7b9F1n3s0VpMX39CED4UdI7m46fxvrZOBNjSxyYyKt3PoLXUHxgqcmbn8ZXYEa58wbmZi50BGhS3-btLXXyC_nW8cp-z-mEPkK8inRp9cj/s2048/13+onions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1587" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU5JRO7-TVnhiUfCucFu9J2KaowLRemw0_AI7b9F1n3s0VpMX39CED4UdI7m46fxvrZOBNjSxyYyKt3PoLXUHxgqcmbn8ZXYEa58wbmZi50BGhS3-btLXXyC_nW8cp-z-mEPkK8inRp9cj/w310-h400/13+onions.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Also in the mudroom are onions, with a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_Blossfeldt" target="_blank">Karl Blossfeldt</a> photograph at the lower right, an image of gourd squash stems.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4rhpK2OJLLPCQiLcEQs-TSYiwy8x-pIfXK6H5y6IVrjwpWL2hQ5Oo54jj6pKgwWJDkWamGuxPgn_LMhHq5pJnYZ6erPOS7eE5T3354PkZ4pSy9KhveTSRZ3eBZQtmp7bhyOOqLgBmhLS/s1500/14+frozen+vegetables.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4rhpK2OJLLPCQiLcEQs-TSYiwy8x-pIfXK6H5y6IVrjwpWL2hQ5Oo54jj6pKgwWJDkWamGuxPgn_LMhHq5pJnYZ6erPOS7eE5T3354PkZ4pSy9KhveTSRZ3eBZQtmp7bhyOOqLgBmhLS/w400-h300/14+frozen+vegetables.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Finally, a peak inside my chest freezer, which is getting packed to the top with summer produce. You can see broccoli, green beans. zucchini, corn, whole green peppers for stuffing at the upper right, and some homemade bagels (these aren't from the garden; I don't plan to grow wheat). In addition to these ways of saving vegetables, I also have a root cellar where I keep carrots, beets, potatoes, and cabbage once the weather has cooled. </div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I think about the winter ahead with satisfaction, when I can ruminate on what I'll eat for lunch or dinner and know that an abundant variety of vegetables is at hand. The pleasure goes beyond good food, into a feeling of life well lived. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-34942061469707916462021-08-24T16:24:00.001-04:002021-08-24T16:24:58.971-04:00Questions I Ask Myself While Painting<p> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKo_JCeBYnsU7kWzbHMbNvVChSFVGmjZ3Ha40Qan_BFheuR-7ToAcIDpqHEFFmKbYKnkOofVlolJexVfOKSvU8ChC8NcRtDMaqjw23ZAFhCAnLeU1Lm9B4N7n4iYiTLzLD9gH8PUSIEBUV/s1200/1+palette.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1200" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKo_JCeBYnsU7kWzbHMbNvVChSFVGmjZ3Ha40Qan_BFheuR-7ToAcIDpqHEFFmKbYKnkOofVlolJexVfOKSvU8ChC8NcRtDMaqjw23ZAFhCAnLeU1Lm9B4N7n4iYiTLzLD9gH8PUSIEBUV/w400-h308/1+palette.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When we work at tasks––cooking, cleaning, gardening, repairing––I imagine that all of us ask ourselves questions, whether consciously or not. Do I add more salt? where should I put this new plant? how can I fix this cupboard door with its loose hinge? will wood putty work? When I'm in the process of painting, which I've been doing for about 50 years (yikes!) I don't usually pay attention to the questions asked, decisions made; although they are constant, I don't focus clearly on them. Painting became like walking, where I don't have to ponder each muscle movement in order to go forward. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But then, a painting ago, the questions became loud and clear in my head; I noticed them. The questions were about process, about the step by step making of a painting, and not anything philosophical: not why am I doing this at all, not what I'm trying to say. Just process. I imagine every artist has their own particular questions. A first question for me is the palette and which color pastes are to be laid out in the small cups: do I need Cadmium orange? which yellow should I use, Cad yellow medium or light? should I mix the greens I'll need? if so, which blues will come in handy? Ultramarine deep? Cobalt blue deep, or light or standard? maybe a green? Why oh why didn't I order more Chrome oxide green? Should I use some Phthalo green? if so, warm or cool? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPeICeCSP6j9rStw0CXowpHNktOA3JR6YoVw8BIgS1hJ9j6Ua0ZC16B28X2oeJFp2yxJVmwqemoApDXQbc539cE-OM3H7ufALKJZVXciLY3iufkK0UGbEls0Zhyphenhyphen1DSAbawcCDqVmF6ywD/s1000/2+lower+right%252C+start.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlPeICeCSP6j9rStw0CXowpHNktOA3JR6YoVw8BIgS1hJ9j6Ua0ZC16B28X2oeJFp2yxJVmwqemoApDXQbc539cE-OM3H7ufALKJZVXciLY3iufkK0UGbEls0Zhyphenhyphen1DSAbawcCDqVmF6ywD/w300-h400/2+lower+right%252C+start.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I use photographic sources for my work, so there are often decisions to be made as to how faithfully to follow the image. For this painting one large question was: what color do I paint the lower right corner? The source was green grass, which would not do at all. The warm brown you see sketched in above was many colors before it got to that one. Should it be dark green? blue? a warm earth red? maybe more yellow in that? lighter? darker? Each questioned color was tried and wiped off, to start anew. Should the color have transparency? or be more opaque? I actually thought this: should the color be dead or alive? I think my question meant how intense should the color be? should it recede, or pop, or be on the same plane as the shapes above? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhboxavfIsyeC6lt4b9JOqyJ5_LHsx0KbE28W0TwvDJtgbBJ6Ci5B1eFe2bZBHuQe-B36d7GWzJb0FGGmAHjDhSkB83kgjXhf2aPFD8ZIn96k8D5_Szfu7u6i3FqabvAt86gGNpn6cMN69i/s900/4+Red+Circle+photo.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhboxavfIsyeC6lt4b9JOqyJ5_LHsx0KbE28W0TwvDJtgbBJ6Ci5B1eFe2bZBHuQe-B36d7GWzJb0FGGmAHjDhSkB83kgjXhf2aPFD8ZIn96k8D5_Szfu7u6i3FqabvAt86gGNpn6cMN69i/w400-h300/4+Red+Circle+photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There are always questions about the composition: will I move the diagonals so that they touch the corners? what about that dark edge: put it in or leave it out? Should I widen the left rectangle? Where should I place the red circle? centered, or higher? And the biggest question: do I leave the arm coming from the left side of the red disk? And the protruding brown cylinder: is it be seen from above, as in the source image, or straight on? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYHKMm-4M46iowA9jA2H553rt-0GKNuJRiDIa6EmX30nrn6z5qRfYzscKdtJ8sQrIT891Jw26FBB42GKfKteRfQ8Y7zv65NNn3BcWzSri1xV7rEQ2c5qs1HcBvNHwmwZxMkFZMqPnwVTq/s800/5+disk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="800" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfYHKMm-4M46iowA9jA2H553rt-0GKNuJRiDIa6EmX30nrn6z5qRfYzscKdtJ8sQrIT891Jw26FBB42GKfKteRfQ8Y7zv65NNn3BcWzSri1xV7rEQ2c5qs1HcBvNHwmwZxMkFZMqPnwVTq/w400-h319/5+disk.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here is a detail of that part of the painting, finished, with the questions answered.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc69OhDSoJGZAPONC5n0HhyHKL9ppELZJCrBOlkcHhaYmRTWxAFTGXisjyovut47wS8CYAvVKnmWczlOGOYETs3VUpFHl992SlljDH1IVDCW37HL29N2bexa9jIk9QVkGLp3F19wDCfiN/s900/6+Light+and+shadow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBc69OhDSoJGZAPONC5n0HhyHKL9ppELZJCrBOlkcHhaYmRTWxAFTGXisjyovut47wS8CYAvVKnmWczlOGOYETs3VUpFHl992SlljDH1IVDCW37HL29N2bexa9jIk9QVkGLp3F19wDCfiN/w400-h300/6+Light+and+shadow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Colors chosen bring up a litany of questions, for every color in every painting. Many years ago, when I was a student at Skowhegan, our rallying cry was "Hue! Value! Intensity!", the three qualities of color. Getting these greens––in shadow and light––to work required many layers of color answering how warm? how cool? how light? how dark? how intense do I want the color to be? which blue or green or yellow will give the hue I want? will the shadow color be more or less transparent? will adding white kill the color, or would yellow work? which yellow? maybe I should add lemon yellow to my palette? And the touch, or facture: do I want it to show a subtle painterliness or a more opaque surface? Will the green rectangle on the left be lighter, warmer than the triangular green? How about the lights? how warm, how light? One of the great qualities of egg tempera is its translucency, which allows for color mixing while layering paint. And after each layer, each new color: does it sit properly in space? does it carry enough light? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7bHH2zI9j_xhl1dPGAq68cZhA34TblblvxT71WSXAkKlRWvhy3AXsrQ7-5OxoZ1UTT7He3aAoZzDXsOt9XrnrFLT5nwEreYBnOQ-VsWFrbj-RfYPYl_2CMINxgf35r8YsLTnZe6rAH7W/s1000/Red+Disk.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="885" data-original-width="1000" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7bHH2zI9j_xhl1dPGAq68cZhA34TblblvxT71WSXAkKlRWvhy3AXsrQ7-5OxoZ1UTT7He3aAoZzDXsOt9XrnrFLT5nwEreYBnOQ-VsWFrbj-RfYPYl_2CMINxgf35r8YsLTnZe6rAH7W/w400-h354/Red+Disk.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Red Disk</i>, 2021, egg tempera on calfskin parchment, 7 5/8 x 8 5/8 in.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A final question: do I include a photo of the finished painting in this blog post? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>As I thought about why my list of questions moved to the foreground of my mind, I remembered that I'd recently read a wonderful poem by <a href="https://poets.org/poet/john-yau" target="_blank">John Yau</a>, "Fifty for <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2014/10/richard-nonas-forms-in-space.html" target="_blank">Richard Nonas</a>", the sculptor, which consisted of a long list of questions, questions that are enlightening, thoughtful, demanding, confounding, compelling, essential. I love this::<div><blockquote>What is invisible inside this place you are filling with carbon dioxide? What besides air, light, and memories? </blockquote><div>(click to enlarge)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSH0f6ffnablZV3vG_JnaMn05ZKiyl6LcumdpKkXcNq3jiC5lOO5AN1005ymnEdDa71WbkbyKNvV2SrSFprGuhn7BvYXUD6LQoG96TaZesKkrKWy8NCNEgrthiAqdrgp_T7AaTWNymktN/s2000/Richard+Nonas+poem%252C+John+Yau.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1518" data-original-width="2000" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSH0f6ffnablZV3vG_JnaMn05ZKiyl6LcumdpKkXcNq3jiC5lOO5AN1005ymnEdDa71WbkbyKNvV2SrSFprGuhn7BvYXUD6LQoG96TaZesKkrKWy8NCNEgrthiAqdrgp_T7AaTWNymktN/w640-h486/Richard+Nonas+poem%252C+John+Yau.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p></div></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-36118492627779564872021-08-12T16:16:00.003-04:002021-08-12T16:18:09.425-04:00Mushrooms: Wonders of the Woods<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjMY5yYpB-Pn5ki6aIy2hU_Bm6WJLZRgDi9lUrsaxnzzFUO_8gYR9SUEeaXvzxhHzxNmk9C1JmZoUyCU6xrsn2-Chij9FvsIw5OuvBMoBeOadqEBtrA8GXtwPE2_xeEz7tCQgeaebBb5X/s1500/1+chanterelles.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1500" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjMY5yYpB-Pn5ki6aIy2hU_Bm6WJLZRgDi9lUrsaxnzzFUO_8gYR9SUEeaXvzxhHzxNmk9C1JmZoUyCU6xrsn2-Chij9FvsIw5OuvBMoBeOadqEBtrA8GXtwPE2_xeEz7tCQgeaebBb5X/w640-h492/1+chanterelles.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p></p><blockquote>"One shouldn't go to the woods looking for something, but rather to see what is there." John Cage</blockquote><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">It was thrilling to spot this mass of glowing chanterelles, loudly announcing their emergence. Although they often show up in this spot, it's rarely this many. As different from the composer and mushroom expert John Cage, I know very little about <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mushroom" target="_blank">mushrooms</a>; these are the only ones I will eat, along with lawn puffballs. I generally approach mushrooms as an aesthetic, rather than culinary, experience, admiring their widely varying colors and shapes. And wow. this year there is an embarrassment of riches in the woods. After a hot, dry spring, it rained and rained and rained in July, which has encouraged a plethora of species, many of which I've never seen before. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdG94v-feHXTXQc-MBXOZrgz7H9n5TxlfZJk2ndhyKWS02y8vyICJyntLGmOOvBjzSfmrkN91RCQwTvS7Di8t4R8KGuJzyPpc5R1smrHRScHeEihSj7hPTRML7AMv6ZorTgKvtvTKLSNVX/s1100/chanterelle+pizza.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="1100" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdG94v-feHXTXQc-MBXOZrgz7H9n5TxlfZJk2ndhyKWS02y8vyICJyntLGmOOvBjzSfmrkN91RCQwTvS7Di8t4R8KGuJzyPpc5R1smrHRScHeEihSj7hPTRML7AMv6ZorTgKvtvTKLSNVX/w400-h370/chanterelle+pizza.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My chanterelle pizza</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhTljDqe2G7_96QupZ-8jQZI8IPpC-fnaJZGaCc-plo2EXtG38eo6C4zXSbdgUYHb48b_80NrcbLcbkKckFLATMMozOjVuD_4qF95ah-kDo8eo5np1WKjfo-TfbdgrN6foi6Z47OxP5gn/s1000/2+parasol.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="855" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhTljDqe2G7_96QupZ-8jQZI8IPpC-fnaJZGaCc-plo2EXtG38eo6C4zXSbdgUYHb48b_80NrcbLcbkKckFLATMMozOjVuD_4qF95ah-kDo8eo5np1WKjfo-TfbdgrN6foi6Z47OxP5gn/w343-h400/2+parasol.jpg" width="343" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've tried to identify some of the mushrooms I've photographed, using my Audubon guide, but haven't always succeeded. I've seen estimates of <a href="https://www.mushroom-appreciation.com/types-of-mushrooms.html#sthash.Q040rSGb.dpbs" target="_blank">10,000 species of mushrooms</a>, which are the fruiting body of a fungus, and <a href="https://www.lanl.gov/museum/news/newsletter/2018/01/fungi.php" target="_blank">120,000 fungi</a>. So, I may be forgiven for not knowing even common ones. But, I think this is a Parasol mushroom. It stood out, noticeably tall and white, in the distance on the path; it was about 8 inches tall. I photographed this on August 5th; a couple of days later the cap had spread out into a flat disk, around 6 inches wide. A couple of days after that, I saw it covered with a fine hairy fungus of some sort; and as I write this on August 11, the cap has collapsed into a brown decaying form. </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><p></p><blockquote><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">"<span style="font-family: Times;">Rockland County, where Stony Point is located, abounds in mushrooms of all varieties. The more you know them, the less sure you feel about identifying them. Each one is itself. Each mushroom is what it is—its own center. It's useless to pretend to know mushrooms. They escape your erudition." <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Cage" target="_blank">John Cage</a></span></div><p></p></blockquote><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxAXFrJAhKxlc0z_48QhcX3U_tFpccybAZ8gUNwt91f4A1M94hfBLzkZAyq24gPXACG0qDfbatqakTcEhhL6fkSgf5akLbKyAy_6UQzoCcPdl386klBGESCur4kBWUH0voiPWnc2a143e/s1000/3+red+capped+mushroom.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="870" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxAXFrJAhKxlc0z_48QhcX3U_tFpccybAZ8gUNwt91f4A1M94hfBLzkZAyq24gPXACG0qDfbatqakTcEhhL6fkSgf5akLbKyAy_6UQzoCcPdl386klBGESCur4kBWUH0voiPWnc2a143e/w349-h400/3+red+capped+mushroom.jpg" width="349" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I love seeing red mushrooms. The color is so brilliant against the dun-colored forest floor. They demand attention.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFCFyiFmvYNvn8gNDkHS54gau06gbIiPAziXtmqf4Nh5EyCW0oRUb7pv00O1DnobKSOYCG8Ys82Aw0jD3ygjx6PI9YTnpb4C8LSv1uHZJuNYhBrBUv71_suvmPt2EPTZ6V_XosyAGML3z/s1000/4+coral+mushroom.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="1000" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFCFyiFmvYNvn8gNDkHS54gau06gbIiPAziXtmqf4Nh5EyCW0oRUb7pv00O1DnobKSOYCG8Ys82Aw0jD3ygjx6PI9YTnpb4C8LSv1uHZJuNYhBrBUv71_suvmPt2EPTZ6V_XosyAGML3z/w400-h366/4+coral+mushroom.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We might think we are underwater when seeing coral mushrooms. How did this similarity happen?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AFlRQRRmmN8kTVpbDn5v2clNNbng8P4M0eJRg3b_k-2hyphenhyphenLZPhK2SzA71lgKLpYwSGRmpJT0eMYtYraOiD1FO5le4NCLhPlsFc4-_XfI2y-ljwz1OQ0LSyEHvGcrcc6jnrYMQ7cjHLr0w/s1100/5+spindle-shaped+coral%253F.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1100" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AFlRQRRmmN8kTVpbDn5v2clNNbng8P4M0eJRg3b_k-2hyphenhyphenLZPhK2SzA71lgKLpYwSGRmpJT0eMYtYraOiD1FO5le4NCLhPlsFc4-_XfI2y-ljwz1OQ0LSyEHvGcrcc6jnrYMQ7cjHLr0w/w400-h365/5+spindle-shaped+coral%253F.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In my mushroom book, this species, or similar, previously unknown to me, is grouped with Coral-like mushrooms. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7g0-0BDT-hLURD9HPEiYDm_71H97iyMNKg5naOCnzOf5tB5K8WohjWr-YFL9W_jfO91h0EXJr3OvYdZEa0KHP2RJcCndRs7JSGaE-vbd0PYP8ZD1yxuIxloF1DVwjAxAMDd6t4X7nr8-k/s1200/6+black+cup+mushroom.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="962" data-original-width="1200" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7g0-0BDT-hLURD9HPEiYDm_71H97iyMNKg5naOCnzOf5tB5K8WohjWr-YFL9W_jfO91h0EXJr3OvYdZEa0KHP2RJcCndRs7JSGaE-vbd0PYP8ZD1yxuIxloF1DVwjAxAMDd6t4X7nr8-k/w400-h323/6+black+cup+mushroom.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And, I'd never seen, or noticed, this cup-shaped mushroom, perhaps because of its dark color, or because it grows so close to the ground. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHcSBUI0rgyn1oUuQROQeAvomNtkQ3bj8kbpk0gZhCzHl6fuHvpgeEHaS8mK8CIemp_lp0P_NVcu5FD128nlgf79seg_1FyUTNbjtPa3ZzRUQ6zcgmIts1uKLl6IXzi3kHpI7CwAfCNXE/s1000/7+Orange+jelly.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="910" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHcSBUI0rgyn1oUuQROQeAvomNtkQ3bj8kbpk0gZhCzHl6fuHvpgeEHaS8mK8CIemp_lp0P_NVcu5FD128nlgf79seg_1FyUTNbjtPa3ZzRUQ6zcgmIts1uKLl6IXzi3kHpI7CwAfCNXE/w365-h400/7+Orange+jelly.jpg" width="365" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's a treat to see these small, shiny, jelly-like fungi. I think they're Orange jelly, but I wish they were Witches' Butter, because I love the name; Witches' butter, though, are yellow in color. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzD6K2Cx-2FbH8NQj016aDC1KMX5Jcp2PSSD0s7yxeHg-05LknHcpLHjhrA_1ektIa2SivAjRHXYUS6eznUe9V1mb9b_vDUKQesOXG8JGRL4Wn2Y6WX__GLkaUhp1_V8BMfYZ6SEQuK3z/s1200/8+small+white+club+mushrooms.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="936" data-original-width="1200" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzD6K2Cx-2FbH8NQj016aDC1KMX5Jcp2PSSD0s7yxeHg-05LknHcpLHjhrA_1ektIa2SivAjRHXYUS6eznUe9V1mb9b_vDUKQesOXG8JGRL4Wn2Y6WX__GLkaUhp1_V8BMfYZ6SEQuK3z/w400-h314/8+small+white+club+mushrooms.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have zero idea what these tiny mushrooms are; some kind of club mushroom I suppose, new to me. They're kind of wonderful, with their groupings of erect forms with rounded tops. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNflj0wEQtUmh_JIBHyISvGExA8YoObR6-cvDcRdxgRS2J8wF8Pubx9bhvzI21Pgi4Kakr7hZIag3sv13CZe-B7e-azvJRm8j_4buWnum7HRN2Ctznlf9E94f4-4Pi364xDdi3QHsAtnL/s1200/9+polypore.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1200" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnNflj0wEQtUmh_JIBHyISvGExA8YoObR6-cvDcRdxgRS2J8wF8Pubx9bhvzI21Pgi4Kakr7hZIag3sv13CZe-B7e-azvJRm8j_4buWnum7HRN2Ctznlf9E94f4-4Pi364xDdi3QHsAtnL/w400-h341/9+polypore.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This grand specimen, about 10 inches across, lives in the same spot each year, growing on underground wood. I assume that it's a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polypore" target="_blank">polypore</a> of some sort; I admire its deep reddish color and rippling, overlapping forms. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wGRDLG3ayWRpX3bfsil3h9qQ7jie2ux5WmwwwCuu38zRmgG-srJNjXnX4m4v8GgsyQDMDc9RVnVtoq5hBKR-WcKKnxxhK06i4qbYZzK7wSt27wsC0jNzZj67ksbxIlhrj8HhWLmAaBrz/s1010/10+Grey+spotted+amanita.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wGRDLG3ayWRpX3bfsil3h9qQ7jie2ux5WmwwwCuu38zRmgG-srJNjXnX4m4v8GgsyQDMDc9RVnVtoq5hBKR-WcKKnxxhK06i4qbYZzK7wSt27wsC0jNzZj67ksbxIlhrj8HhWLmAaBrz/w398-h400/10+Grey+spotted+amanita.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's a beautiful warm gray cap on a mushroom, an unusual color. It's possible that it's a Grey Spotted amanita, as a youngster, but the photos I've seen online don't look like this. The scales and veil on the stem mark it as an amanita (maybe). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlsyCljUmqx3-H-ILapHGKe8L6UWXOGVE3rh4-oE0sdNy_3xqG2tI9f2o1bItq_q6Xb_Tv0etcWwb62s3tZcaLUKivWBT0NrNXuZPcKwP4ORDWh0N5cZVUuKROxLxfQvDfrsq_UNpUekI/s1000/11+Bolete.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="871" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghlsyCljUmqx3-H-ILapHGKe8L6UWXOGVE3rh4-oE0sdNy_3xqG2tI9f2o1bItq_q6Xb_Tv0etcWwb62s3tZcaLUKivWBT0NrNXuZPcKwP4ORDWh0N5cZVUuKROxLxfQvDfrsq_UNpUekI/w350-h400/11+Bolete.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boletus" target="_blank">bolete</a> for sure. They are beautiful mushrooms, with elegant caps and stems, and pores instead of gills under their caps. They are remarkable plentiful in my near woods this summer. Many of them are edible, but since some are not, I won't cook them.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZplH07q8PCuEHUZZh7TM6RO8jy9aohXBzZNzY46OXIOO73L8YobfBiUcRBQZWgiL6xVM0pBmukx7GvSuumvSrRKaKQPTgbQbxX5O1OO_1ax-uRudC9Bd9ioECwLR6vbo07I7os0JMmPS/s1500/12+bolete%252C+huge.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1146" data-original-width="1500" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ZplH07q8PCuEHUZZh7TM6RO8jy9aohXBzZNzY46OXIOO73L8YobfBiUcRBQZWgiL6xVM0pBmukx7GvSuumvSrRKaKQPTgbQbxX5O1OO_1ax-uRudC9Bd9ioECwLR6vbo07I7os0JMmPS/w640-h490/12+bolete%252C+huge.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I saw these two mushrooms, boletes, side by side in the woods, I kept exclaiming "holy mackerel! holy mackerel!" (For some reason stronger language didn't leave my mouth.) Why? because they're <i>HUGE</i>: the larger one was 8 inches across, and I'd never seen anything like it; nothing so large except for polypores. They'd been knocked over, so I brought them home to photograph them. Under the pores was a soft white spongy layer. How many of my readers will tell me I should have cooked these? or maybe not. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qeH8ywNQIZS1T6KIqbib1q38QtImKH_MrbLj9cCA6Cms1D1R7EuYtypVzdmdqxzjcA_cLC0z__ymWqNBgB_cB89D1gNbQFIcYKfI7PjXaISSgeqzWOvxWcvkCH_c46VX1LGBNwE57XW0/s1200/13+Velvety+earth+tongue.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="1200" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0qeH8ywNQIZS1T6KIqbib1q38QtImKH_MrbLj9cCA6Cms1D1R7EuYtypVzdmdqxzjcA_cLC0z__ymWqNBgB_cB89D1gNbQFIcYKfI7PjXaISSgeqzWOvxWcvkCH_c46VX1LGBNwE57XW0/w400-h315/13+Velvety+earth+tongue.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Another exciting find, from very large to very small. These Velvety earth tongues were growing on a pile of logs that I've seen decay over the years; the logs are now covered with teeny orange mushrooms, some small red ones, mosses, and lichens. These are another mushroom I've never seen before, and it's surprising to me how thrilled I feel when seeing something new. They are only about an inch and a half high, which gives you an idea of how tiny the orange mushrooms are. I encourage readers to click on the images to enlarge them, to see these marvels in more detail. I'd like to close with another quote from John Cage, which expresses beautifully the love due to mushrooms:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><blockquote>"What permits us to love one another and the earth we inhabit is that we and it are impermanent. We obsolesce. Life's everlasting. Individuals aren't. A mushroom lasts for only a very short time. Often I go in the woods thinking after all these years I ought finally to be bored with fungi. But coming upon just any mushroom in good condition, I lose my mind all over again. Supreme good fortune: we're both alive!" </blockquote><p> </p></span></div><p></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-87501456365346771262021-08-02T16:02:00.002-04:002021-08-02T16:03:58.382-04:00Small Objects of My Affection<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_UPIyFOMksP-FfktYHxoOXN9iBtY3_ePPB4wLdyvVGLB87JHhRborWEpNPhlrXExzqkp5Bi-R7lgKFVHf7Juccn-OqyyjC7EzmhR77Uwwkk10loom-swI24WOdtFu0U6ji3USgj-q5o8/s1500/1+Desk+objects.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1162" data-original-width="1500" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_UPIyFOMksP-FfktYHxoOXN9iBtY3_ePPB4wLdyvVGLB87JHhRborWEpNPhlrXExzqkp5Bi-R7lgKFVHf7Juccn-OqyyjC7EzmhR77Uwwkk10loom-swI24WOdtFu0U6ji3USgj-q5o8/w640-h498/1+Desk+objects.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>Sitting on my desk, where I can see them just beyond my computer, are these four small objects. I can't quite explain why, but they comfort me with their familiarity, their shapes, their stories, their unique character. Two of them are reproductions of ancient objects: <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/547212" target="_blank">the bowl with human feet</a> is a favorite piece in the Met's Egyptian collection; the stag is copied from an early bronze age sculpture from Anatolia, which I bought on a marvelous visit to Turkey 20 years ago. The two birds are paperweights, a chicken acquired from an antique shop ages ago, and a dainty Lalique which was in my beloved mother's collection. I see the chicken pecking away and the little glass bird about to take flight. Embedded in them are memories and silent affection. All four of of my desk companions elicit a sense of life, in their still and quiet way.</p><p>I began to think about my relationship to the inanimate objects around my house after reading this beautiful and touching prose poem, "Fetish" by Pierre Reverdy, in<a href="https://www.spdbooks.org/Products/9781934029022/prose-poems.aspx" target="_blank"> the book published by Black Square Editions</a>. </p><p></p><blockquote>A little doll, a good luck marionette, she struggles at my window, at the mercy of the wind. The rain has soaked her dress, her face, and her hands, which are fading. She's even lost a leg. But her ring remains, and with it her power. In winter she knocks at the windowpane with her little foot in its blue shoe, and she dances, dances from joy, from the cold, to warm her heart again, her good luck wooden heart. At night she raises her suppliant arms toward the stars. </blockquote><p></p><p>Yes, these objects are <a href="https://www.lexico.com/en/definition/fetish" target="_blank">fetishes</a>, in the sense of embodying magic. Even though the marionette is well-worn she still has her power, and she dances with joy. </p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHVBpzTh0-7mIGnSpfT_gudMzHQPvw7o0w-LskpirPXKv-yzqOyNgoPU7DN_8ckyvt2kbTULfFfJ7O4iIYXmT0FYTbNrtUplzrIV8D1pdhwrYOU7AYkKcHwZ_8tcAeqUJ8CicFnPU-02q/s1100/2+alligator.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1100" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHVBpzTh0-7mIGnSpfT_gudMzHQPvw7o0w-LskpirPXKv-yzqOyNgoPU7DN_8ckyvt2kbTULfFfJ7O4iIYXmT0FYTbNrtUplzrIV8D1pdhwrYOU7AYkKcHwZ_8tcAeqUJ8CicFnPU-02q/w400-h340/2+alligator.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A little stuffed alligator, with his wide smile and waving arms, looks out at me over my bedside clock with humor and charm. His silly attitude reminds me not to take myself too seriously, to remember to relax and smile, so he's an excellent bedtime friend. I'm especially fond of this little creature because I found him in my mother's collection of tiny toys for her great-grandchildren. <div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_VU4RXn1EtQEeD_k3hDjrIGFyxWTwy8DUprUfIliv-ZBKT_mMMp1h75lAGJIl0tH9zxqUf8kIlWmyxpqr4kXBXaxCmDeyAsaOwwMvXY_eCkKBRNpkOw1VrrGDwjus7wUs8n26YT70ABc/s1000/3+kookaburra+salt+and+pepper+shakers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1000" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_VU4RXn1EtQEeD_k3hDjrIGFyxWTwy8DUprUfIliv-ZBKT_mMMp1h75lAGJIl0tH9zxqUf8kIlWmyxpqr4kXBXaxCmDeyAsaOwwMvXY_eCkKBRNpkOw1VrrGDwjus7wUs8n26YT70ABc/w400-h304/3+kookaburra+salt+and+pepper+shakers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This salt and pepper set and the pieces to follow are antique shop and yard sale finds that I've had for many years. The shakers have the shape of the birds they are named after––kookaburras––with large beaks and squat shapes, but their bright colors are a vivid invention. When I look at them I think of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fc_-icFHwQo" target="_blank">raucous laugh</a> of these birds, which I was lucky enough to hear in the Australian outback many years ago; it's a startling sound. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DFDPaPawdgW671K6C6NCzn9miJlXTYNn6S2Uk1X7MZhP6vicWFoFC5g7vLV2r89WubLAPf0iPJfjBqHJzBT8aQma9ZCwzDqmn_i1P_Lcz6iHOwnEJSh_08cLn7rnoSR0pZ2riHuxiZGs/s1200/4+wooden+animals.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="1200" height="373" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3DFDPaPawdgW671K6C6NCzn9miJlXTYNn6S2Uk1X7MZhP6vicWFoFC5g7vLV2r89WubLAPf0iPJfjBqHJzBT8aQma9ZCwzDqmn_i1P_Lcz6iHOwnEJSh_08cLn7rnoSR0pZ2riHuxiZGs/w640-h373/4+wooden+animals.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A delicate herd of tiny animals, not more than 2 inches high, sits on my mantle. I love their shapes, simple yet speaking of each individual animal. They have a poignant vulnerability, with straight pins inserted into their bodies where thin legs have broken off. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQIdzb_9ro-gJIKjB2ehfAnBnxhC6KOxVEuJ-ZMPkxJnE5yirNBtgRMNpEaSW78bdBb3awZ-0W8kDmtXBoU-9yn1J6H3gt21hEeekGMSHyiJQOpXEzrL44eQQ8RqI_UM6NfVpuunxmUs6/s1200/5+pull+toy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1200" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidQIdzb_9ro-gJIKjB2ehfAnBnxhC6KOxVEuJ-ZMPkxJnE5yirNBtgRMNpEaSW78bdBb3awZ-0W8kDmtXBoU-9yn1J6H3gt21hEeekGMSHyiJQOpXEzrL44eQQ8RqI_UM6NfVpuunxmUs6/w400-h333/5+pull+toy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>With elegant curved form topped with a black beret, a perky fellow sits on a pull toy. The large red wheels give him motion, which he addresses with his upright stance. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhss3QAyZmIzFWJVVnH9B7USY01RW0uYmdJKS4RB85JSJ0dAQyGR1wl4ZanGBk7mX4dlTjADj9xKgAvMYSSKYhAL5cb7fhNd75tqCkcNMcn_OWAKezV083XPqNbu6_or22u_y9sJg9nj4hZ/s1200/6+toy+truck.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="1200" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhss3QAyZmIzFWJVVnH9B7USY01RW0uYmdJKS4RB85JSJ0dAQyGR1wl4ZanGBk7mX4dlTjADj9xKgAvMYSSKYhAL5cb7fhNd75tqCkcNMcn_OWAKezV083XPqNbu6_or22u_y9sJg9nj4hZ/w400-h264/6+toy+truck.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Being a person who likes machines––machines inspire my artwork––I had to include a little wooden toy truck in this post. I imagine it being given to a child or grandchild, who would love pulling or pushing it about. Ah, the shapes! Blue cylinder atop red cylinder, alongside yellow rectangle, all on a black rectangle studded with red circles; so beautifully abstract. </div><div><br /></div><div>Each of these objects, and many more around my house, are imbued with a spirit of their own. Like Reverdy's marionette, they have heart and joy, good luck and power; they are magical.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-72801596877293696812021-07-19T15:59:00.001-04:002021-07-19T16:01:54.076-04:00Borders, Boundaries<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt2WvMSjRmctd5mNfzUxrfUrUKSPkJIr8JlWZmQade4tvvDLjIbsy1FUOea0S4rm0EQbopFcXcmp4LVAguRpSTCT4cgKmRSXeJ-yOSIvFi02oZNiYQT0ejmHq4_mmEaylS73_97PCn413Z/s1400/1+field.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt2WvMSjRmctd5mNfzUxrfUrUKSPkJIr8JlWZmQade4tvvDLjIbsy1FUOea0S4rm0EQbopFcXcmp4LVAguRpSTCT4cgKmRSXeJ-yOSIvFi02oZNiYQT0ejmHq4_mmEaylS73_97PCn413Z/w400-h300/1+field.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I walk across a small field in full sunlight. The light touches leaves and grasses, shifting with the breezes; it sparkles on the tall, thin grasses and glows on leafy surfaces. There is a trodden path through the growth, but the 4 foot tall flowering grasses still brush against my skin, with a slightly scratchy feeling. (I'd like to use the word raspy, incorrectly, as I think of a wood rasp, with its small holes, tickling away the edges of a wood panel.) Ahead of me I see the dark edge of the woods.<div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1eGtRN7dq3UPAXcmNuK3aqDr2MgcgD1w6ez7RueYoJCe1k6weNby9XipRJvO7_rN_fB9qJ2YPm60222TjlKOnaQJy3MyyfuWjvkXN6dc730XnmdRF92wDxgYuyBqxI1BXE7reYRfc7eb/s1400/2+entering+the+woods.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1eGtRN7dq3UPAXcmNuK3aqDr2MgcgD1w6ez7RueYoJCe1k6weNby9XipRJvO7_rN_fB9qJ2YPm60222TjlKOnaQJy3MyyfuWjvkXN6dc730XnmdRF92wDxgYuyBqxI1BXE7reYRfc7eb/w400-h300/2+entering+the+woods.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">When I cross that border from bright fields to shadowed woods it is as though I am in a different body, one that is cooler, cradled, limited in sight. From a horizontal world, open and expansive, I enter one that is vertical, where I look up to treetops and down to the ground. I often think of the words of Robert Frost, which come to me unbidden: </p><div><blockquote>The woods are lovely, dark and deep</blockquote></div><div>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This line is from his poem <span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline;">"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening</span>". In it he speaks of that most unforgiving of borders, that between life and death, in saying</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><blockquote><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">But I have promises to keep, </p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And miles to go before I sleep,</p><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And miles to go before I sleep.</p></blockquote><p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p></div></div><div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhIOkt2olGtxO3K5j_yU5x7XkLyTHuVzrBGJ73aohXt28j-bXg5Kkpj3Yrg8dF82-Z8iTA3WorOe88SEn3rMTPINVSAYcPxcY_93y_b5aSHecVqByJrAik2OPfnXDILNg-pcGcHFkd5by/s1000/3+Boundary+Marker.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="859" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhIOkt2olGtxO3K5j_yU5x7XkLyTHuVzrBGJ73aohXt28j-bXg5Kkpj3Yrg8dF82-Z8iTA3WorOe88SEn3rMTPINVSAYcPxcY_93y_b5aSHecVqByJrAik2OPfnXDILNg-pcGcHFkd5by/w344-h400/3+Boundary+Marker.jpg" width="344" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In the woods are many stone walls, walls that used to be the borders between property owners, separating long-gone open fields. A few days ago I noticed the red boundary marker for the southwest corner of my property; I hadn't paid attention to these boundaries for years. </div><div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5lZ9tauKxchJ9QUA8o3cw1A1cASfim39pmmxgF5fIGyo7IR81AnqTZTMRekKK7hODqngU8oXDgWpEIRVy7MKYfUg-WgYD1LbwQM688w92piY5qYQ8upPgjLdqpxSJHCGrSR_Dqfmy3_N/s1400/4+collapsed+wall.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ5lZ9tauKxchJ9QUA8o3cw1A1cASfim39pmmxgF5fIGyo7IR81AnqTZTMRekKK7hODqngU8oXDgWpEIRVy7MKYfUg-WgYD1LbwQM688w92piY5qYQ8upPgjLdqpxSJHCGrSR_Dqfmy3_N/w400-h300/4+collapsed+wall.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Many of the walls have fallen apart; stones are no longer piled one atop the other in an orderly fashion; trees grow through them. The hard labor of transporting and placing large rocks and huge boulders is undone. Another Frost poem, "<a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44266/mending-wall" target="_blank">Mending Wall</a>", has a phrase that echoes through my head:</div><div><blockquote>Something there is that doesn't love a wall</blockquote></div><div>The poem is a wonderfully wrought, simply put questioning on the necessity of walls, because even though his neighbor insists</div><div><blockquote>Good fences make good neighbors</blockquote></div><div>Frost wonders why a wall is needed between an orchard and a pine woods. And we can now take that questioning out into the larger world. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnvgRP37MJ3eiQ4SOLNcEVjUq4E2KX8Ac5Eit9CCjtZ54m0r0ZK6rJgtt9p8ufTztTCnfaqO2Rvf_MOeGhT9xtXnErtQ9JzGnPjhMzVOrUOh8_jGTlQT0aZz3FkofVKDmIXpP_rT3ERFY/s1400/5+old+gate.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnvgRP37MJ3eiQ4SOLNcEVjUq4E2KX8Ac5Eit9CCjtZ54m0r0ZK6rJgtt9p8ufTztTCnfaqO2Rvf_MOeGhT9xtXnErtQ9JzGnPjhMzVOrUOh8_jGTlQT0aZz3FkofVKDmIXpP_rT3ERFY/w400-h300/5+old+gate.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The curved line of metal is all that remains of a gate that stood in the southeastern corner of my field, a forlorn reminder of the futility of fixed boundaries.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-6818839550643049262021-07-11T17:22:00.000-04:002021-07-11T17:22:38.499-04:00At the Met: Egyptian Relief Sculpture<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRL8Cxo5by7tecBpNM3nxqiR9J1ArsQFm0Ah3fVHGSEYCBNqQIXlvl3HJcUADxXGx_z1IxzWDIekfLklrEwe61OIO3BKzjUV5v1LFcfKRZtjWpgKsPc-EcdlkbocvF-z3NG91Pln4_2qa/s1000/1+Relief+with+a+billy+goat+ca.+2551%25E2%2580%25932528+B.C.+Old+Kingdom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1000" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRL8Cxo5by7tecBpNM3nxqiR9J1ArsQFm0Ah3fVHGSEYCBNqQIXlvl3HJcUADxXGx_z1IxzWDIekfLklrEwe61OIO3BKzjUV5v1LFcfKRZtjWpgKsPc-EcdlkbocvF-z3NG91Pln4_2qa/w400-h341/1+Relief+with+a+billy+goat+ca.+2551%25E2%2580%25932528+B.C.+Old+Kingdom.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relief with a billy goat ca. 2551–2528 B.C. Old Kingdom</td></tr></tbody></table></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am in awe of ancient Egyptian sculpture. The sensitivity to line and form, and rhythm across a wall, that is sustained across centuries is remarkable. It's hard to imagine a culture that stayed so consistent over this length of time, with small variations in style. The close attention to the volumetric shapes of this goat bring it fully to life, even though the representation is simplified and in low relief. Ah, those elegantly curved horns! </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZjVopQqf7qjwbcfEfZKWaSp4LQwMwq1UiW6ZXDSriBgHY4az5YGqOy-gFMKmOHUFqwOC6hzrmIjPxRTkcdUTsGoi_S_t5juOA5F9siR9YRTzybDOiuHDI5imzy-EKQqf52P2gPxqKOCu/s1200/2+Relief+fragment+showing+a+pile+of+offerings+and+part+of+an+offering+list+ca.+2010%25E2%2580%25932000+B.C.+or+ca.+2000%25E2%2580%25931981+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZZjVopQqf7qjwbcfEfZKWaSp4LQwMwq1UiW6ZXDSriBgHY4az5YGqOy-gFMKmOHUFqwOC6hzrmIjPxRTkcdUTsGoi_S_t5juOA5F9siR9YRTzybDOiuHDI5imzy-EKQqf52P2gPxqKOCu/w640-h480/2+Relief+fragment+showing+a+pile+of+offerings+and+part+of+an+offering+list+ca.+2010%25E2%2580%25932000+B.C.+or+ca.+2000%25E2%2580%25931981+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Relief fragment showing a pile of offerings and part of an offering list ca. 2010–2000 B.C. or ca. 2000–1981 B.C. Middle Kingdom Egypt</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><p></p><div><div style="text-align: left;">Many of these sculptures were found in chambers in pyramid temples, and were offerings to the king, The bounty shown above was thought to provide for life everlasting. This work doesn't have the realism of the relief of a goat shown above, but the abstracted forms and color are very satisfying. This fragment is a clear illustration of how the medium of relief carving is between fully rounded sculpture and painting.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAPHy1lV2E93hVY5UVwagnXSWh9XA7yWfY74xWMuiNPfYP_U-w5gz5iq3tKZwow13qS2LP22CR2EYnYwSDbTOPBzQVBAIv_6MpZtBEVLgufloX6aaBNho4sm1RZAn82NUdMC8GFQYcHi1/s1000/3+Relief+depicting+an+offering+table+and+part+of+an+inscription+ca.+2010%25E2%2580%25932000+B.C.+or+ca.+2000%25E2%2580%25931981+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwAPHy1lV2E93hVY5UVwagnXSWh9XA7yWfY74xWMuiNPfYP_U-w5gz5iq3tKZwow13qS2LP22CR2EYnYwSDbTOPBzQVBAIv_6MpZtBEVLgufloX6aaBNho4sm1RZAn82NUdMC8GFQYcHi1/w400-h300/3+Relief+depicting+an+offering+table+and+part+of+an+inscription+ca.+2010%25E2%2580%25932000+B.C.+or+ca.+2000%25E2%2580%25931981+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relief depicting an offering table and part of an inscription ca. 2010–2000 B.C. or ca. 2000–1981 B.C. Middle Kingdom Egypt<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><p>Although the details in this relief are more crudely handled, I love the pile of shapes and the duck's head alongside them, resting on curves An exhibition of Middle Kingdom art at the Met several years ago pushed me to start doing <span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline;">low relief sculpture in clay</span>; <span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline;">I</span> wrote about the show in <span style="color: #0000e9; text-decoration: underline;">an earlier blog post</span>. As an artist I feel totally inadequate when comparing my reliefs to those from ancient Egypt; mine seem clunky and inelegant. Oh well, I try my best, and it's good to aspire to these role models.</p><p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRw4nmRq43uY93pwsU0RnIlXPshdOrGfc6U4znvVEUzWwSXhPKLOE056IjlO6I-3OrXtMoOckHTYrJQd78DckD80qIMSC2rA_iUW449U4B9hzJPrYbJryD-17pzdSbMb1qRsgoC4oUDinY/s1000/4+Relief+Fragment+Showing+Waterfowl+in+a+Clapnet+ca.+2020%25E2%2580%25932000+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="909" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRw4nmRq43uY93pwsU0RnIlXPshdOrGfc6U4znvVEUzWwSXhPKLOE056IjlO6I-3OrXtMoOckHTYrJQd78DckD80qIMSC2rA_iUW449U4B9hzJPrYbJryD-17pzdSbMb1qRsgoC4oUDinY/w364-h400/4+Relief+Fragment+Showing+Waterfowl+in+a+Clapnet+ca.+2020%25E2%2580%25932000+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" width="364" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relief Fragment Showing Waterfowl in a Clapnet ca. 2020–2000 B.C. Middle Kingdom Egypt</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><br /></p><p>This fragment depicts a stack of ducks in repeated curves. I can see that they are different species from the shapes of their heads and the varying curves of their beaks. I couldn't figure out how they were in a net until I looked at the description of this piece on the <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/544089?searchField=All&amp;sortBy=Relevance&amp;where=Egypt&amp;what=Limestone%7cReliefs&amp;ao=on&amp;od=on&amp;ft=egyptian+relief+sculpture&amp;offset=460&amp;rpp=40&amp;pos=500" target="_blank">Met's website</a>. It pointed out that there was till a faint tracery of paint on the ducks' bodies, indicating the net; you can see this if you click on the image to enlarge it. </p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6z2N3V65lmo1YC_NAnglY3So3kQtSuv16cxW5EJIIsNpssf-VN-LMQn2_jOSZiGx53DklpwFPOG2fsYF97B_GD8onVsqaS5mIpdRsQWv1x8vCI5tRtcjcGaVE2GEN4U4OrCutcaT6awyS/s1200/5+Lintel+of+Amenemhat+I+and+Deities+ca.+1981%25E2%2580%25931952+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1200" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6z2N3V65lmo1YC_NAnglY3So3kQtSuv16cxW5EJIIsNpssf-VN-LMQn2_jOSZiGx53DklpwFPOG2fsYF97B_GD8onVsqaS5mIpdRsQWv1x8vCI5tRtcjcGaVE2GEN4U4OrCutcaT6awyS/w640-h406/5+Lintel+of+Amenemhat+I+and+Deities+ca.+1981%25E2%2580%25931952+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5 Lintel of Amenemhat I and Deities ca. 1981–1952 B.C. Middle Kingdom Egypt</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqAdSeTNkVVPMgDgX91ElTc7WWrl-Sd5KgixxXicHeVCOV2nZRnOwXOImNjqV24kCckLMZCXpEsF4gUu5Ob6yy7-O1SwVfwxe3RgMxlzUqqroXMsh38mxGonz_f_jsLdyZAPWUOBJcrz4/s1000/6+Relief+block+from+a+building+of+Amenemhat+I+ca.+1981%25E2%2580%25931952+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt%252C+with+god+Horus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqAdSeTNkVVPMgDgX91ElTc7WWrl-Sd5KgixxXicHeVCOV2nZRnOwXOImNjqV24kCckLMZCXpEsF4gUu5Ob6yy7-O1SwVfwxe3RgMxlzUqqroXMsh38mxGonz_f_jsLdyZAPWUOBJcrz4/w400-h300/6+Relief+block+from+a+building+of+Amenemhat+I+ca.+1981%25E2%2580%25931952+B.C.+Middle+Kingdom+Egypt%252C+with+god+Horus.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relief block from a building of Amenemhat I ca. 1981–1952 B.C. Middle Kingdom Egypt, with god Horus</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">The two reliefs above are from the same building, the king's mortuary temple. The artists who carved these reliefs––all the reliefs shown in this post are carved from limestone blocks––were very skilled. The hieroglyphs at the top are especially beautiful in their simplification of objects, which turns them into language. I find that lintel so very beautiful; I want to run my hand along the edges of the forms, to feel their subtle distinctions.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7BD2SY3qnIKY2zeqIgKP9AbdqOLH0dBfCjrzq1-fYULTaI2JML5-s0wNEidXCsxngqMIViVLJ36O-u1bJgn8qRG4y4Ebm-N6AK0dG7cakFi300h_EFuHqIb5-i9riEw7FIKoFz3EYr6z/s1500/7+Reliefs+from+the+North+Wall+of+a+Chapel+of+Ramesses+I+ca.+1295%25E2%2580%25931294+B.C.+New+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="1500" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw7BD2SY3qnIKY2zeqIgKP9AbdqOLH0dBfCjrzq1-fYULTaI2JML5-s0wNEidXCsxngqMIViVLJ36O-u1bJgn8qRG4y4Ebm-N6AK0dG7cakFi300h_EFuHqIb5-i9riEw7FIKoFz3EYr6z/w640-h472/7+Reliefs+from+the+North+Wall+of+a+Chapel+of+Ramesses+I+ca.+1295%25E2%2580%25931294+B.C.+New+Kingdom+Egypt.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Reliefs from the North Wall of a Chapel of Ramesses I ca. 1295–1294 B.C. New Kingdom Egypt</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">This more recent relief made during the New Kingdom is more crowded with activity than earlier works. There are piles of provisions atop piles of provisions, and below, many workers preparing food or libations. The sculpted forms are more rounded than those in the Middle or Old Kingdoms, which increases the feeling of a bustling, overstuffed storehouse. Rhythms are varied and I see a rich visual polyphony.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOSYKfsH22kNDAUcJ5oc9QPau8NwChcUyLw7mDR0DPWK_YSUnWkzdI8wv0K__g95L1UF0hUylq_hJVI17X8m9_phvMqFGBQR1vhREqF_XIwlqmpVVgRf5A5f9_52t2sMFF2-GV-nLogVo/s1100/8+Relief+plaque+with+a+swallow%252C+and+with+Face+of+an+Owl+400%25E2%2580%259330+B.C.+Late+Period%25E2%2580%2593Ptolemaic+Period.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="1100" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOSYKfsH22kNDAUcJ5oc9QPau8NwChcUyLw7mDR0DPWK_YSUnWkzdI8wv0K__g95L1UF0hUylq_hJVI17X8m9_phvMqFGBQR1vhREqF_XIwlqmpVVgRf5A5f9_52t2sMFF2-GV-nLogVo/w640-h362/8+Relief+plaque+with+a+swallow%252C+and+with+Face+of+an+Owl+400%25E2%2580%259330+B.C.+Late+Period%25E2%2580%2593Ptolemaic+Period.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Relief plaque with a swallow, and with Face of an Owl 400–30 B.C. Late Period–Ptolemaic Period</td></tr></tbody></table></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>There's a heightened sense of realism in these two small plaques, made much later than the works above. At this time Egyptian art was influenced by that of Greece; Alexander the Great had conquered Egypt in 332 B.C. <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/ptol/hd_ptol.htm" target="_blank">An article on the Met's website</a> explains the history and artistic interchanges of this period. I see the Egyptian style in the basic simplification of form, and the carefully observed details; the relief is higher, as is common with Greek sculptural reliefs. The owl is a marvel, a compelling portrait of an inscrutable bird. I know I just wrote that these works are more realistic than what came before, but paradoxically, they are also wonderfully stylized: the artists managed to portray creatures that are both real and ideal, perfect of their kind. It is so interesting to think about this delicate shifting balance between naturalistic representation and abstraction that is evidenced across the centuries in Egyptian art. </p><p><br /></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-75048002203293427752021-07-01T15:14:00.002-04:002021-07-01T15:18:58.943-04:00At the Met: Abstraction, Modest and Monumental<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHoqVDjbrjUw9WYU0q50X0GBQL4TMXCt9H-8XFgIFAvyU_s-sw6DSmV8Yj5lq6z-VdCNteFXEnopTUeQ3ckvPzwEJv40IWFpj_29y9A-tnUjd9rAWsBgB63ZvLBKFYmT92hzWhVj9Lmsz/s1009/1+Mondrian%252C+Composition%252C+1921.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1009" data-original-width="950" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinHoqVDjbrjUw9WYU0q50X0GBQL4TMXCt9H-8XFgIFAvyU_s-sw6DSmV8Yj5lq6z-VdCNteFXEnopTUeQ3ckvPzwEJv40IWFpj_29y9A-tnUjd9rAWsBgB63ZvLBKFYmT92hzWhVj9Lmsz/w376-h400/1+Mondrian%252C+Composition%252C+1921.jpg" width="376" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piet Mondrian, <i>Composition</i>, 1921</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>One of the great joys of wandering the galleries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is seeing art that spans centuries. There is Egyptian sculpture from 2,000 B.C., through and up to contemporary art of the 20th and 21st centuries; this range of style and content and culture and meaning opens my mind. Oh, I admit there are areas of art that I don't think I'll ever like––Italian 16th century mannerism, for instance––but I admire most everything; that certainly includes modern and contemporary abstract painting. I loved seeing this small––19.5 inch square––painting by Mondrian in the Modern and Contemporary galleries. It has great presence in its simple structure of rectangles divided by heavy black lines. What's especially interesting about this painting, which is early in Mondrian's exploration of <a href="https://www.moma.org/collection/terms/neo-plasticism" target="_blank">Neo-Plasticism</a>, is that the color is mixed, as different from that in his later work, when he used only primary colors. <div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnuwaTWJHkeD_JRDDVNtDdsZCOXIwIua2K95XTX-atE6MP_Ss_UPbJAWYLCLXH3pPjomcSL85YY3HyvNFdH39nwbhsLUdJcooxhsa2RTWyJaKqnV7zq9-PAgkg2BEC5XUabrDDI-AutWXD/s1100/2+Leon+Polk+Smith%252C+Accent+Black%252C+1949.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="880" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnuwaTWJHkeD_JRDDVNtDdsZCOXIwIua2K95XTX-atE6MP_Ss_UPbJAWYLCLXH3pPjomcSL85YY3HyvNFdH39nwbhsLUdJcooxhsa2RTWyJaKqnV7zq9-PAgkg2BEC5XUabrDDI-AutWXD/w320-h400/2+Leon+Polk+Smith%252C+Accent+Black%252C+1949.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leon Polk Smith, <i>Accent Black, </i>1949</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Leon Polk Smith's geometry is more lively than that in the Mondrian. The diagonal placement of rectangles and squares emphasize movement; the composition is then stabilized by the black at the bottom, holding the earth-red shapes in place. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UIJOmSmzEGTvHrVyu3piIJuOibNkYZZ_FaxLS0BJWYzExv3wpyabznIabcfqnLBbKXQZb8DnYfX_UlGIg5pq9qA0V-XyEjBJyWa7oy7lKLcN8RSuUCR_EbcMZxp_RykMuXawu_lO55TI/s1100/3+Carmen+Herrera%252C+Iberic%252C+1949.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="1100" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UIJOmSmzEGTvHrVyu3piIJuOibNkYZZ_FaxLS0BJWYzExv3wpyabznIabcfqnLBbKXQZb8DnYfX_UlGIg5pq9qA0V-XyEjBJyWa7oy7lKLcN8RSuUCR_EbcMZxp_RykMuXawu_lO55TI/w400-h393/3+Carmen+Herrera%252C+Iberic%252C+1949.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carmen Herrera, <i>Iberic, </i>1949</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>With Carmen Herrera's <i>Iberic, </i>I see yet another approach to geometry, using curves and points and shapes of different sizes. The composition is anchored by the slightly squashed divided circle at the center, held up by a thick line of horizontal black that angles into a vertical and meets orange. The color is both somber––black, and dark red, with deep orange––but also hot, in the warmth of red and orange. For me, <i>Iberic </i>is quite playful in its rhythmic shapes. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKoc4mzyI8KtWlAM-V_82xFTCepfdU-IA0rS21eQKcJ2lLa3lDBetT9ysdN-KmBE_OuANX9fOPRMg7V54CmIm-KTXcCG8xLm7kTAEPQdDoljUp90tscS77F64cM9aPdeZywBL1zbF5m49/s1500/4+Joan+Snyder%252C+Smashed+Strokes+Hope%252C+1971.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1090" data-original-width="1500" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTKoc4mzyI8KtWlAM-V_82xFTCepfdU-IA0rS21eQKcJ2lLa3lDBetT9ysdN-KmBE_OuANX9fOPRMg7V54CmIm-KTXcCG8xLm7kTAEPQdDoljUp90tscS77F64cM9aPdeZywBL1zbF5m49/w640-h466/4+Joan+Snyder%252C+Smashed+Strokes+Hope%252C+1971.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joan Snyder, <i>Smashed</i> <i>Strokes Hope, </i>1971</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After seeing the three paintings above, I walked into galleries that contained paintings which had been part of the exhibition "Epic Abstraction". The three following paintings are certainly epic in their size, and they are all "painterly". To be clear, I am not equating size with quality; it is simply a different characteristic. Joan Snyder's 6 x 12 foot canvas is covered with joyous paint; I see it in that spirit because of its color, like an explosive spring garden, and in the exuberant paint handling. There is open space, as in a Chinese landscape, and my eye follows paths across the canvas.</div><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOrZfdbcpA20wftUXyUQAmNMNoxR8If017QpR6CS4PT27M14T9SfaiHZwy2oz-SSGci-CaRnxkgT5wIpl0dyBttJJONu03kuSIZ2_GpBImtuLjW5jUe_jkXhzeTmEo6t0TZMd8EjSRQXC/s1000/5+Joan+Snyder%252C+Smashed+Strokes+Hope%252C+1971%252C+detail.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOrZfdbcpA20wftUXyUQAmNMNoxR8If017QpR6CS4PT27M14T9SfaiHZwy2oz-SSGci-CaRnxkgT5wIpl0dyBttJJONu03kuSIZ2_GpBImtuLjW5jUe_jkXhzeTmEo6t0TZMd8EjSRQXC/w400-h300/5+Joan+Snyder%252C+Smashed+Strokes+Hope%252C+1971%252C+detail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joan Snyder, <i>Smashed</i> <i>Strokes Hope, </i>detail</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The paths are created by paint that is slathered, wiped. dripped; it is thick and thin; put on with brushes? hands? palette knife? The variety of marks, their physicality, adds energy to the painting; the brushwork lends such immediacy that it feels as though it's still in the process of being made.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjneFeZpHJB_DGmprad2mNydkzGXhZ367l6PTUUU9E-GEqj8u2V1Bxh-_90TmGcW1HdCdfxqRZN5SbVVR_q7kN1vizBervcKXUeNrC1ILjfsA32MDQCMoOc1c2Guf5bAQIhu7z23_edMQTC/s1500/6+Joan+Mitchell%252C+La+Vie+en+Rose%252C+1979.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="1500" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjneFeZpHJB_DGmprad2mNydkzGXhZ367l6PTUUU9E-GEqj8u2V1Bxh-_90TmGcW1HdCdfxqRZN5SbVVR_q7kN1vizBervcKXUeNrC1ILjfsA32MDQCMoOc1c2Guf5bAQIhu7z23_edMQTC/w640-h388/6+Joan+Mitchell%252C+La+Vie+en+Rose%252C+1979.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joan Mitchell, <i>La Vie en Rose, </i>1979</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Joan Mitchell creates an atmospheric landscape-like space across the four panels of this large painting. The upper area of the panels are gently violet-tinged; they contrast with the aggressive, agitated marks below. Because the painting is divided into four parts, with no continuity between them, it reads as a narrative, with four events unfolding over time; each panel has a slightly different emotional register, but all are passionate. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6S9KgXXsDLR_iO0qRwdSxN_gWS8FJ3WppT3jNL7eH3mQXwFRCCqXuoEdXuOHfX9b5tfGZyTgvjSjLLkIc5ZUZlpkmFD9BLkXEfO9IBi28uMLKEFmnAex3vTKtt0z0dqL4miQS7jCz7akg/s1000/7+Joan+Mitchell%252C+La+Vie+en+Rose%252C+1979%252C+detail.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6S9KgXXsDLR_iO0qRwdSxN_gWS8FJ3WppT3jNL7eH3mQXwFRCCqXuoEdXuOHfX9b5tfGZyTgvjSjLLkIc5ZUZlpkmFD9BLkXEfO9IBi28uMLKEFmnAex3vTKtt0z0dqL4miQS7jCz7akg/w400-h300/7+Joan+Mitchell%252C+La+Vie+en+Rose%252C+1979%252C+detail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joan Mitchell, <i>La Vie en Rose, </i>detail</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In this detail we can see much more complexity than when looking at a small image of the entire painting. Blacks and blues are layered over ochers and pinks, The brush jabs and sweeps, and the paint drips; there are thickets of strokes, evoking trees and brush. <i>La Vie en Rose </i>is an immersive experience, as though being within Mitchell's sense of space.</div><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3n5lnerfZLOmz5C4cTLNyJXgKV1PTrQEt8GJarcnjiRJ8yO7xaBPDxQNVVQBto6pX5KfbdUk9jqndPLeiezOF98Lkw8Rxjaqv7YUNfI1fK4PmmEtPUNy9wOrNkQ3RhuMqLc_T7d6XZgY/s1200/8+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="959" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE3n5lnerfZLOmz5C4cTLNyJXgKV1PTrQEt8GJarcnjiRJ8yO7xaBPDxQNVVQBto6pX5KfbdUk9jqndPLeiezOF98Lkw8Rxjaqv7YUNfI1fK4PmmEtPUNy9wOrNkQ3RhuMqLc_T7d6XZgY/w512-h640/8+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willem de Kooning, <i>Easter Monday, </i>1956</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ah, de Kooning! Even though I've seen many of his paintings over the years––including this one, and the <a href="https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/1135?" target="_blank">great retrospective at MoMA</a> in 2011-12––I stood transfixed in front of <i>Easter Monday </i>during my recent visit to the Met. I felt that I was exploring an actual physical space, complex and shallowly layered. Although the painting appears frenzied––on the <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/488916?searchField=All&amp;sortBy=Relevance&amp;ft=de+kooning+easter+monday&amp;offset=0&amp;rpp=20&amp;pos=1" target="_blank">Met's website</a> they cite c<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333;">ritic Thomas Hess, who likened this group of paintings to "abstract urban landscapes," and "</span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: italic; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Easter Monday</span><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333;"> does seem to reference the whirling pace and gritty detritus of the modern city"––its structure is solid and balanced. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpsrwbvMAzpVeacshyzM4qRMJkshtVGWqENonLZGpcNSagoAUIKqMQg64ZzT28_gISrOpzqOPishvntJE6GREatDfyLhTl9KIg_jWXjoPDUQh7FCxU4CBVhulh89Wh0vqOk2Cf5Ap67xV/s1000/9+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956%252C+detail+1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTpsrwbvMAzpVeacshyzM4qRMJkshtVGWqENonLZGpcNSagoAUIKqMQg64ZzT28_gISrOpzqOPishvntJE6GREatDfyLhTl9KIg_jWXjoPDUQh7FCxU4CBVhulh89Wh0vqOk2Cf5Ap67xV/w300-h400/9+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956%252C+detail+1.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willem de Kooning, <i>Easter Monday, </i>detail</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>As with the two paintings above, it's impossible to get a true sense of the physicality of paint in a photograph, but if you enlarge the images by clicking on them, you'll get a better idea. In this detail we can see an transfer from a newspaper pressed onto the canvas. As explained on the <a href="https://www.moma.org/collection/works/38092" target="_blank">MoMA website</a>: "<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">De Kooning often used newspaper in his painting process. He pressed it against the surface of his canvases to keep the paint wet." This adds an unexpected element to the painting, which is at odds, in a fascinating way, with its abstraction. </span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiESaaeGudeSuvwFyxneru_nsltD3Y_0E5DK-kf_5nRY3zsQT7sTQquBv6tUBMruKKTMX-zIGUYZmzNFT6M8QNw2z2bb8cEPjAsqbxsCNa-BYTiQx95nLoNJVz739LSKpuxpZ2X5dL8xK1G/s900/10+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956%252C+detail+2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="675" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiESaaeGudeSuvwFyxneru_nsltD3Y_0E5DK-kf_5nRY3zsQT7sTQquBv6tUBMruKKTMX-zIGUYZmzNFT6M8QNw2z2bb8cEPjAsqbxsCNa-BYTiQx95nLoNJVz739LSKpuxpZ2X5dL8xK1G/w300-h400/10+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956%252C+detail+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willem de Kooning, <i>Easter Monday, </i>detail</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15oJcyS9xvoGM3jz7X_ynie9b9YSKqnSUEhGum3yJqYF8dIo_74K08mfhMo6hES6FyyeFWAHuIBGvOvoK-cQ7KcNChFpKMuXcu-KZvJZe1pBK9T_MkVkK95oDFS0aPVrQhpVndCMQj4ug/s1000/11+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956%252C+detail+3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="1000" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15oJcyS9xvoGM3jz7X_ynie9b9YSKqnSUEhGum3yJqYF8dIo_74K08mfhMo6hES6FyyeFWAHuIBGvOvoK-cQ7KcNChFpKMuXcu-KZvJZe1pBK9T_MkVkK95oDFS0aPVrQhpVndCMQj4ug/w400-h361/11+de+Kooning%252C+Easter+Monday%252C+1956%252C+detail+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willem de Kooning, <i>Easter Monday, </i>detail</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The brushstrokes are edgy, yet luscious. When I think of de Kooning's process, it brings to mind a quote of his in an interview with the critic <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harold_Rosenberg" target="_blank">Harold Rosenberg</a>, about the uncertainty of making art, and I believe this to be true no matter the style or medium of the artwork: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><blockquote><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">De Kooning: If you yourself made a sphere, you could never know if it was one. That fascinates me. Nobody ever will know it. It cannot be proven, so long as you avoid instruments. If I made a sphere and asked you, 'Is it a sphere' you would answer, 'How should I know?' I could insist that it looks like a perfect sphere. But if you looked at it, after awhile you would say, 'I think it's a bit flat over here.' That's what fascinates me––to make something I can never be sure of, and no one else can either. I will never know, and no one else will ever know.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Rosenberg: You believe that's the way art is?</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">De Kooning: That's the way art is.</span></blockquote><p><br /></p><p> </p><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"></span></span></div></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-87541301064176830562021-06-22T13:49:00.000-04:002021-06-22T13:49:39.463-04:00At the Met: Animals<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2s0MjsvHMkoVbzOVfVLnPJS2-mlbKmWO3Z6xkiV5Np8cjrzx38jY56_kW_MZoMo977wNmxj6cEkOQK3sF54yYf9g7coiNyxWTgVDssUCjswSF1qgxgRI9IM9Tm9d5roWV9zzEInWWQyM/s1000/1+Storage+jar+decorated+with+Ibexes%252C+Central+Iran%252C+4000-3600+B.C.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1000" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-2s0MjsvHMkoVbzOVfVLnPJS2-mlbKmWO3Z6xkiV5Np8cjrzx38jY56_kW_MZoMo977wNmxj6cEkOQK3sF54yYf9g7coiNyxWTgVDssUCjswSF1qgxgRI9IM9Tm9d5roWV9zzEInWWQyM/w400-h324/1+Storage+jar+decorated+with+Ibexes%252C+Central+Iran%252C+4000-3600+B.C.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Storage Jar decorated with Ibexes, Central Iran, 4,000-3600 B.C.<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><blockquote>Humans have lived with, worked with, observed, worshipped, made myths about non-human animals for millennia. When I look at this elegantly delineated ibex, it's hard for me to comprehend that this pot was made 6,000 years ago. In John Berger's elucidating essay, <a href="https://animalsinasliterature.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/scan-2.pdf" target="_blank">"Why Look at Animals",</a> he describes how humans and animals had lived parallel lives in the past, before the 19th century, in which </blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>every tradition between man and nature was broken. Before this rupture, animals constituted the first circle of what surrounded man. Perhaps that already suggests too great a distance. They were with man at the centre of his world. Animals first entered the imagination as messengers and promises. </blockquote><p>Berger goes on to describe various ancient myths centering on animals, and how this human/animal relationship changed in modern times. Thinking of that closeness it's not at all surprising that there should be so many depictions of animals in art and artifacts. </p></blockquote><p> </p><div><div><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yo_a4SnYa0xmqZcIxB779W0kH0jEgc1sXBL93IyGwIURr4ivCZxOrnWwcJIAh_7zi3ZcU1sd4lTVQBn4mzxz2UWaj0X-601WUVbPJbMAlM7itWAbdLKlL_9lBWeAykFIRLKDDdREK8mH/s1000/2+Weights+in+the+shape+of+a+frog%252C+Mesopotamia%252C+Iran%252C+or+Cypress%252C+early+2nd+milennium+B.C.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="811" data-original-width="1000" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yo_a4SnYa0xmqZcIxB779W0kH0jEgc1sXBL93IyGwIURr4ivCZxOrnWwcJIAh_7zi3ZcU1sd4lTVQBn4mzxz2UWaj0X-601WUVbPJbMAlM7itWAbdLKlL_9lBWeAykFIRLKDDdREK8mH/w400-h325/2+Weights+in+the+shape+of+a+frog%252C+Mesopotamia%252C+Iran%252C+or+Cypress%252C+early+2nd+milennium+B.C.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weights in the shape of a frog, Mesopotamia, Iran, or Cypress, early 2nd millenium B.C.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Very simple lines and minimal form are all that's needed to sculpt the essence of an attentive frog. Upraised head, folded legs, bulging eye; she's ready to leap forward. And her rounded volume asks for a caress.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8lap5S65sezY-8YLA9ghKU5w_KO-8FC9LphjZMWl6tBYuGgFCwKjPJJO-x2bxdl1JeOMZeetanaImzSklbWaxZHzGudephGgcN1Zm7zLAhyphenhyphenB9RwYI-AwIVo5TIq1npbsodqmT5oOsGqty/s1000/3+Wall+painting+from+a+bedroom%252C+Roman%252C+last+decade+of+1st+century+B.C.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8lap5S65sezY-8YLA9ghKU5w_KO-8FC9LphjZMWl6tBYuGgFCwKjPJJO-x2bxdl1JeOMZeetanaImzSklbWaxZHzGudephGgcN1Zm7zLAhyphenhyphenB9RwYI-AwIVo5TIq1npbsodqmT5oOsGqty/w400-h400/3+Wall+painting+from+a+bedroom%252C+Roman%252C+last+decade+of+1st+century+B.C.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wall painting from a bedroom, Roman, last decade of the 1st century B.C.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A sensitively rendered bird stands alert in the center of a dark swath of wall, warmly glowing against the polished surface. Someone who knows bird species could probably identify this one since it is so specific in its details.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vGcFlTAU7yuDxdPr3NEkoNO_20g6C7eh8kuZUBSXYeNO-QfbVYzqwsPwmapOZyBUG-WIhBeEPVZP9Kzrayj_hp-XD1KBacc8TXRJGh2qKS7IseJUJ8gtRDMQqiDympl_eEpahd0IdOgE/s1000/4+Figure+of+a++Hare%252C+Egypt%252C+11th+centurytif.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="1000" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vGcFlTAU7yuDxdPr3NEkoNO_20g6C7eh8kuZUBSXYeNO-QfbVYzqwsPwmapOZyBUG-WIhBeEPVZP9Kzrayj_hp-XD1KBacc8TXRJGh2qKS7IseJUJ8gtRDMQqiDympl_eEpahd0IdOgE/w400-h391/4+Figure+of+a++Hare%252C+Egypt%252C+11th+centurytif.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Figure of a Hare, Egypt, 11th century</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Such a lively little hare, with those large ears pricked and the tiny tail raised. I can't help but think that the maker of this piece particularly enjoyed sculpting that alert expression of anticipation. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1eZheuYwA9NsFG5G63N6VmIdfpyTl3HltcoNvx0d9widO0PW3ZdO086mr3wdQUtgJIj0_En3M51_JsfgYNVHqfTU2iJv_LWB__cgxxo4Ih5sQDVr4A4-G6JI5C-OYbHbIpYSQs6DHXQ4/s1000/5+Statue+of+a+Predatory+Bird%252C+Iran%252C+12th-13th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="1000" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1eZheuYwA9NsFG5G63N6VmIdfpyTl3HltcoNvx0d9widO0PW3ZdO086mr3wdQUtgJIj0_En3M51_JsfgYNVHqfTU2iJv_LWB__cgxxo4Ih5sQDVr4A4-G6JI5C-OYbHbIpYSQs6DHXQ4/w400-h353/5+Statue+of+a+Predatory+Bird%252C+Iran%252C+12th-13th+century.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue of a Predatory Bird, Iran, 12th-13th century</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>There is a range of depiction from naturalism to abstraction that is very interesting to me. Different cultures have different approaches, all valid, all producing beautiful work. This predatory bird, with its large head and simple sweep of wings is closer to an abstract rendering, but I can still feel his aggressive posture. There's a fluid line from the jutting beak to the swelling breast and back through the wings which is very satisfying. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8OQOXBrld_l67nx6TDccvxzDksljcQuG7dB7g4Y-SnQ3klo7tOH6UkykusDQDR-Z6j4O3maa0mORpM_i3jKPoCrOBbFrW1ixEbUSzYumZpmrchZ28QJsxSC1EL3Xot-RtRML14JKoIvm/s1000/6+Bowl+with+fish+motif%252C+Iran%252C+13th+centurytif.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1000" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8OQOXBrld_l67nx6TDccvxzDksljcQuG7dB7g4Y-SnQ3klo7tOH6UkykusDQDR-Z6j4O3maa0mORpM_i3jKPoCrOBbFrW1ixEbUSzYumZpmrchZ28QJsxSC1EL3Xot-RtRML14JKoIvm/w400-h396/6+Bowl+with+fish+motif%252C+Iran%252C+13th+centurytif.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bowl with fish motif, Iran, 13th century</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1NxAUiEztTjNA9nUdzcrO_wU5pmVFUWXyq1PKSp9tyre2SlEwBZDAAuQYG7BEQcPgIaWbQo9f4Rsh5BmypT_k2XQufGtNyDWGy5PYQtCYonlT2ou6viZgOzdbvuvZ70b1Quh9Pk-KIEL/s1200/7+Dish%252C+follower+of+Bernard+Palissy%252C+French%252C+late+16th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN1NxAUiEztTjNA9nUdzcrO_wU5pmVFUWXyq1PKSp9tyre2SlEwBZDAAuQYG7BEQcPgIaWbQo9f4Rsh5BmypT_k2XQufGtNyDWGy5PYQtCYonlT2ou6viZgOzdbvuvZ70b1Quh9Pk-KIEL/w400-h300/7+Dish%252C+follower+of+Bernard+Palissy%252C+French%252C+late+16th+century.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dish, follower of Bernard Palissy, French, late 16th century</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Here are two favorite ceramic pieces at the Met, a bowl from Iran, and a later dish from France. They show very different approaches to decoration: one simplified and the other complex and full of detail. I love them both. The Iranian bowl has a clear design, having linear elements contrasting with the circling fish at the center. The French dish also has a central element, that of a looping snake, but surrounding it are fish and crustaceans and shells and foliage and an overall texture. It's as though these two pieces provide a clear illustration of abstraction and realism, and how effective each approach can be.</div><div><br /></div><div>(I highly recommend clicking on the French dish in order to see more of its details.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfvL22mqdamANdhkQCO5idiQjCANqpqqdvbiMF1TfrfEU8xGq52vpyBqOdZPde3vYQ5pmAfXLGjxJBjGPjHUWOSD-MVxQr0UgCW61xapU0SS18QGZm1H2d-jbltPdRXhz4mOboUMYePLYf/s1200/8+Power+Object%252C+Republic+of+Benin%252C+Fon+peoples%252C+19th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="1200" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfvL22mqdamANdhkQCO5idiQjCANqpqqdvbiMF1TfrfEU8xGq52vpyBqOdZPde3vYQ5pmAfXLGjxJBjGPjHUWOSD-MVxQr0UgCW61xapU0SS18QGZm1H2d-jbltPdRXhz4mOboUMYePLYf/w400-h249/8+Power+Object%252C+Republic+of+Benin%252C+Fon+peoples%252C+19th+century.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/318417" target="_blank">Power Object, Republic of Benin, Fon peoples, 19th century</a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>An elephant is a symbol of strength for the Fon peoples, and silver makes the work a prestige item. In the museum description––link above––it is stated that precious objects such as this are filled with "supernaturally potent materials to protect the monarch". This is a culture in which the magical power of animals had not yet receded. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwY_RAc-i5NlFweGyoJcefgoOwSWQHF93cjpA-kQpfjq27mk51ZwR3Vn1uMuA0T3Av5AdiIONjvvL_2r_STbAOSE6n4aqcqQ8rs_tADw8PF93DQlPZ9c65Z9r8IlOl-4GZGihmOi67BsU/s1000/9+Flat+Bag%252C+Coeur+d%2527Alene%252C+Schitsu%2527umsh%252C+Coeur+d%2522Alene+artist%252C+1895-1905.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1000" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwY_RAc-i5NlFweGyoJcefgoOwSWQHF93cjpA-kQpfjq27mk51ZwR3Vn1uMuA0T3Av5AdiIONjvvL_2r_STbAOSE6n4aqcqQ8rs_tADw8PF93DQlPZ9c65Z9r8IlOl-4GZGihmOi67BsU/w400-h365/9+Flat+Bag%252C+Coeur+d%2527Alene%252C+Schitsu%2527umsh%252C+Coeur+d%2522Alene+artist%252C+1895-1905.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flat Bag, Coeur d"Alene, Schitsu'umsh, Coeur d'Alene artist, 1895-1905</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>We can compare this simplified beaded image of birds with the more realistic Roman wall painting of a bird above, but I don't see that either one is stronger than the other; they are simply different. On this bag, I especially like the way the artist made patterns out of the wings and tail feathers; those diagonals play against each other, creating an animated design. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQMXnhTekFmlTO7NdFYaNgdILYWf-cG6wa21QqcJFMJslHvcbYJLUr1Y6QvultFDdIdOoQdI5QwzLyMvEn2xZ8AJi2N7qKpvtKr1zvka6ywauCx_Ax8lwL7sv03tcvtC5OiR52xS2vpKs/s1200/10+Bronze+statuette+of+a+horse%252C+Greek%252C+late+2nd-1st+century+B.C.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQMXnhTekFmlTO7NdFYaNgdILYWf-cG6wa21QqcJFMJslHvcbYJLUr1Y6QvultFDdIdOoQdI5QwzLyMvEn2xZ8AJi2N7qKpvtKr1zvka6ywauCx_Ax8lwL7sv03tcvtC5OiR52xS2vpKs/w400-h400/10+Bronze+statuette+of+a+horse%252C+Greek%252C+late+2nd-1st+century+B.C.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bronze statuette of a horse, Greek, lat 2nd-1st century B.C. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I've posted all the works above in historical order, but kept this horse for last. This elegant and proud small stallion, sixteen inches high, presents me with an opportunity to speak of my relationships with animals. I live in a rural area, so have lots of animals nearby: deer, moose, bear, turkey, woodchuck, raccoon, birds of all sorts, and other small creatures. I love having this animal life around me, unless they help themselves in my vegetable garden. And of course I have pets, which John Berger in his essay says are one result of animal marginalization in our culture. I do treasure my inter-species interactions. My most intense experience of working with an animal, though, came when I had a horse. There was a remarkably sensitive communication with this large animal when I was sitting on her back, speaking to her with the weight of my body, the pressure of my legs, the touch of the bit in her mouth, and also with my voice. It was magical, and made the image of the centaur––the human/horse creature––completely understandable. It also made me feel closer to a time when non-human animals were an integral part of our lives. <br /><br /><p></p></div></div></div></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmd3vJ7DglWyUjQ2QdnJ9RIDQfPOLI-JrUDHlWQCReESeXXbOXYIOmzvZW_51SRAdPm7uJqJoeu3IwV1hxYdwJSexoim5HOMyLZGXnvbXrHEaIS1aKlIgyPAXzDO5jW3CPo0E652M-I1DU/s1438/Screen+Shot+2021-06-22+at+8.31.35+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="1438" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmd3vJ7DglWyUjQ2QdnJ9RIDQfPOLI-JrUDHlWQCReESeXXbOXYIOmzvZW_51SRAdPm7uJqJoeu3IwV1hxYdwJSexoim5HOMyLZGXnvbXrHEaIS1aKlIgyPAXzDO5jW3CPo0E652M-I1DU/w640-h266/Screen+Shot+2021-06-22+at+8.31.35+AM.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Altoon Sultan, <i>Heifers, Pawlet, Vermont</i>, 1987, 30 x 72 in.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>I've worked on this post for a couple of days, and this morning I remembered that I too have a painting of animals in the collection at the Met (not on view). I painted <i>Heifers </i>during a time when I worked on agricultural landscapes, and many of them, being dairy farms, included cows. Cows are curious, and I feel that they wonder about me, as I do about them. This mutual regard across species, this wonderment and magic, makes it clear why artists have wanted to depict animals from the time of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cave_painting" target="_blank">earliest paintings</a>, many thousands of years ago. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-44778187055280940572021-06-13T18:16:00.000-04:002021-06-13T18:16:20.476-04:00June!<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RvubE1sFS9L4qFtCehIJW-FwLqcpT2LNJsO6G3hXJ1Ye73qD1FSkPXtBGqzpXLKh_N9CgRWTCXH3qqQY_F2puVt2M2GqMzoJItvm5O6F7_KszQoFOTwQhgvTZImbEaB0uUXSqkeNh58N/s1000/1+Siberian+iris+Summer+Skies.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4RvubE1sFS9L4qFtCehIJW-FwLqcpT2LNJsO6G3hXJ1Ye73qD1FSkPXtBGqzpXLKh_N9CgRWTCXH3qqQY_F2puVt2M2GqMzoJItvm5O6F7_KszQoFOTwQhgvTZImbEaB0uUXSqkeNh58N/w400-h400/1+Siberian+iris+Summer+Skies.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siberian iris Summer Skies</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>There have been glorious days this past week, with bright sun, low humidity, and perfect temperatures for spring. As I walked around my garden, admiring all the flowering plants, I kept singing to myself <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCCuhpp3bb0" target="_blank">June is bustin' out all over...</a>, that wonderful Rogers and Hammerstein song from Carousel: </div><div><span face="Programme, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 18px;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">June is bustin' out all over</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: white;">The feelin' is gettin' so intense</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: white;">That the young Virginia creepers</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Have been huggin' the bejeepers</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Outta all the mornin' glories on the fence!</span><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Because it's June!</span></span></blockquote><span face="Programme, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"></span>The flowers in my garden are at their height this month. I look out the back kitchen window and see a mass of the perfectly named Summer Skies iris, with pale blue and white petals floating above green. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uPY1gyXVYNBoSSnooIoCoBL5rjuMc8hqBA0Pn3X717BJMNv4jr5jSjzh0w-9J1jl_4zezopps-YQ3UUvtxAM-P6kQjfsxQvktKAfgrbFLMtPJtLCgY40qL6si62L3cz3qu7HDE6_VVWq/s1000/2+Peony.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uPY1gyXVYNBoSSnooIoCoBL5rjuMc8hqBA0Pn3X717BJMNv4jr5jSjzh0w-9J1jl_4zezopps-YQ3UUvtxAM-P6kQjfsxQvktKAfgrbFLMtPJtLCgY40qL6si62L3cz3qu7HDE6_VVWq/w400-h400/2+Peony.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peony Charlie's White</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The peony is the queen of the flower garden. They have a frothy exuberance, and if I would describe their character, I would say that they have a great generosity of spirit.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3R3NMYrTHtzw42d3bSvQfOiYnH6jzJnZhny5cVLqB5Pmj779BzoHKPrwhJ6w4YrdziqvH7XPFYiTsKm3Lem-TzF8Q-p-ZCa9-uJYR7IAC9hqjGv8lRiF5Mkg2P_zvQE1jx1ia9ImmDa0/s1000/3+Korean+lilac+and+swallowtail.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3R3NMYrTHtzw42d3bSvQfOiYnH6jzJnZhny5cVLqB5Pmj779BzoHKPrwhJ6w4YrdziqvH7XPFYiTsKm3Lem-TzF8Q-p-ZCa9-uJYR7IAC9hqjGv8lRiF5Mkg2P_zvQE1jx1ia9ImmDa0/w400-h400/3+Korean+lilac+and+swallowtail.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Korean lilac Miss Kim, with Swallowtail butterfly</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>One of the delights of lilacs, aside from their form and delicious scent, is that they are very attractive to swallowtail butterflies. This late-blooming Korean lilac is a butterfly magnet: I see several of them at one time, fluttering around the shrub, landing and sipping, and fluttering and sipping again. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMC671wOGj7GqJ1BxUXKdkB5Ur5r14e9DC40Ytn4ivVxrnOO8uovYw2JKuUV06HuobX8A3ItrUT16v-iVrrlgHihROePyjMJvrCkt4yeqxk9R1mtN4ADcpRBTjWP8FtF1vYSp_URW9-KSY/s1000/4+wild+roses.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMC671wOGj7GqJ1BxUXKdkB5Ur5r14e9DC40Ytn4ivVxrnOO8uovYw2JKuUV06HuobX8A3ItrUT16v-iVrrlgHihROePyjMJvrCkt4yeqxk9R1mtN4ADcpRBTjWP8FtF1vYSp_URW9-KSY/w400-h400/4+wild+roses.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild rose</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This small pink rose with a delicate sweet perfume was growing in my backyard when I moved here over 25 years ago. It has since become a lovely large mound, which is dotted with bright color in June. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2kpq_EHWIVzoWRoTVMJg8vGxGgCGpwM5ljUpXv67H3PKsZDFJSi0Q_W0-VkphmqH-H3laeCVYo-O7V8v3j6Ad6OIc0zRF4MjTLSVmJ4ml4ot0xj3192l88tmodj7zd8xjEaU9TMFlvUN/s1000/5+rugosa+rose+with+bee.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2kpq_EHWIVzoWRoTVMJg8vGxGgCGpwM5ljUpXv67H3PKsZDFJSi0Q_W0-VkphmqH-H3laeCVYo-O7V8v3j6Ad6OIc0zRF4MjTLSVmJ4ml4ot0xj3192l88tmodj7zd8xjEaU9TMFlvUN/w400-h400/5+rugosa+rose+with+bee.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosa Rugosa</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I planted Rosa rugosa along the side wall of my studio, and it has since grown into a wide hedge. When it's blooming in June, the delicious scent wafts into the studio building, and I hear the sound of bees buzzing as they gather pollen. When I watch them inside the flower they seem to be ecstatically wallowing in its center, drunk with pleasure. </div><div><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EZoZAbV464e8oZ9Y4xf3k_-tY1Pht-qQFOl6StF9IgO76-MT-NEqGvp0QQf51MYvNWIZtyrHytKNRPkFaikZG2zVryaB4QOMzjBJz2RLIEKmI5VZ8jOpL3-9OS9wLXJYHBM69txEDOnX/s1000/6+honeysuckle.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0EZoZAbV464e8oZ9Y4xf3k_-tY1Pht-qQFOl6StF9IgO76-MT-NEqGvp0QQf51MYvNWIZtyrHytKNRPkFaikZG2zVryaB4QOMzjBJz2RLIEKmI5VZ8jOpL3-9OS9wLXJYHBM69txEDOnX/w400-h400/6+honeysuckle.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honeysuckle Dropmore Scarlet</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A honeysuckle climbs alongside my front door, blazing orange. I do love the honeysuckles we can grow up here in zone 4, but I miss the ones of my youth, those with scent and taste. During summers at the Jersey shore, we saw masses of the white flowers with a delicious smell. I'll never forget how my father taught us to remove the end of the flower, pulling out the pistil with its drop of nectar. Tasting that was a magical treat. Whenever I see that variety of honeysuckle I'm moved to enact that same ritual. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSDX30MdrGat6OAtVxihuMC0jMSsm-Qyu2MYnt9xYHB6NR4yI762sI5z1zSBLQcJTP2-N19CaCIJsiqsoD85oNSIRHJmaBDmVTyvFywIBJEamzQpfCDc4VnbUoTH3G6QzjCp2sLL3xPq0/s1000/7+daylily+lemon+lily.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSDX30MdrGat6OAtVxihuMC0jMSsm-Qyu2MYnt9xYHB6NR4yI762sI5z1zSBLQcJTP2-N19CaCIJsiqsoD85oNSIRHJmaBDmVTyvFywIBJEamzQpfCDc4VnbUoTH3G6QzjCp2sLL3xPq0/w400-h400/7+daylily+lemon+lily.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daylily Lemon Lily</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The Lemon Lily is the earliest of the daylilies to bloom, and its bright cheerful face is very welcome in June. It too has a lovely scent.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_AXHaVQEYfJfFiKGEH0CDGLNQQGRMF5x2fVo2ZBB_Zboc08JYBpS0hUkqi7hCRrPAq-wU92JTJA69MbMBb7aCzLDJuEDI6uKGrwDq0ElHYmE6p9w5nE41aOQOCala5XiAa2tIXiaIP4Y/s1000/8+yellow+flag+iris.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_AXHaVQEYfJfFiKGEH0CDGLNQQGRMF5x2fVo2ZBB_Zboc08JYBpS0hUkqi7hCRrPAq-wU92JTJA69MbMBb7aCzLDJuEDI6uKGrwDq0ElHYmE6p9w5nE41aOQOCala5XiAa2tIXiaIP4Y/w300-h400/8+yellow+flag+iris.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Flag iris</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Another intense yellow flower blooming near the pond is the Yellow Flag iris. It loves wet spots and can grow in standing water. Its form is beautiful, with large drooping petals. It is thought to be a possible model for the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fleur-de-lis" target="_blank">design of the fleur-de-lis</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13cngqJ3lDid-0CoMhY2p4APdmyPAdm9utH9wcyAM3yErzBnZ-I8xbbV3j5lJC8N61E64qeh2A3kXCeqDZvA1jP18IjdLqaKJbg15s5Iso3gtCHIyskcC5MpODFJoyc7laBaRhbujA7Ve/s900/9+wild+strawberries.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg13cngqJ3lDid-0CoMhY2p4APdmyPAdm9utH9wcyAM3yErzBnZ-I8xbbV3j5lJC8N61E64qeh2A3kXCeqDZvA1jP18IjdLqaKJbg15s5Iso3gtCHIyskcC5MpODFJoyc7laBaRhbujA7Ve/w400-h400/9+wild+strawberries.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Strawberries</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>June is also the month for strawberries, both cultivated and wild. The teeny berries have begun to color in my lawn and field.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeF0G22jyiWwEAf7_dX3iWqDO6JjPxHX7GOhk_1WSujCR35pMOe4GOielIdvpyhrnY6ymnzvdOmR7OsyDH35T2beYvWDG1fTS8s49klMuZrgZFR6utf-aHIV1tborw8NkL65hpOX3rPBi/s1000/10+tomatoes+sungold.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTeF0G22jyiWwEAf7_dX3iWqDO6JjPxHX7GOhk_1WSujCR35pMOe4GOielIdvpyhrnY6ymnzvdOmR7OsyDH35T2beYvWDG1fTS8s49klMuZrgZFR6utf-aHIV1tborw8NkL65hpOX3rPBi/w400-h400/10+tomatoes+sungold.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cherry tomato Sungold</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The garden is producing asparagus, lettuce, and lots of spinach. One thing that I find very exciting is seeing the cherry tomatoes begin to form. Up here in northern Vermont, the growing season is short and tomatoes don't come into full production until August, but here is a sign that I may have ripe Sungolds in 3 weeks or so, depending on the weather. Events like this are what keep me gardening. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is a famous Henry James quote about a season: </div><div><blockquote>Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the most beautiful words in the English language.</blockquote><p>I would like to add to that "June day, June day..."</p><p> </p></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-30880061536777968722021-06-09T11:49:00.003-04:002021-06-09T11:49:47.000-04:00At the Met: Wondrous Clay<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHTAzYMENimPlci_lLCJBoXkOGsEn8YlpqpIac5UPLSVF7i_TIrb851KtT3_h7Zilzw6vQBNgd0abMXLsSE6E0M5r5JZsJxj8m8h6E_syYKTi886a6jWR4u7K8XFSiSPImseP1LbP5ZcD/s1200/1+George+Ohr%252C+vases%252C+1898-1910.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="1200" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHTAzYMENimPlci_lLCJBoXkOGsEn8YlpqpIac5UPLSVF7i_TIrb851KtT3_h7Zilzw6vQBNgd0abMXLsSE6E0M5r5JZsJxj8m8h6E_syYKTi886a6jWR4u7K8XFSiSPImseP1LbP5ZcD/w400-h331/1+George+Ohr%252C+vases%252C+1898-1910.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://georgeohr.org/george-ohr/" target="_blank">George Ohr</a>, Vases, 1898-1910</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clay" target="_blank">Clay</a> is a mundane, common material, in use for millennia. Its characteristics allow it to be transformed into shapes both ordinary and extraordinary: into objects of everyday use or into fine art sculpture. The Metropolitan Museum of Art has mounted a thrilling exhibition that shows us the range of lively possibilities present in the medium: <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2021/shapes-from-out-of-nowhere" target="_blank">Shapes From Out of Nowhere: Ceramics from the Robert A. Ellison Jr. Collection.</a> Mr. Ellison has made a generous donation to the Met of 125 works from his modern and contemporary ceramics collection and we are all richer for it. <div><br /></div><div>Looking at the George Ohr vases, I might think that they were made by a contemporary artist, but no, the "Mad Potter of Biloxi" (see link above) was pushing the boundaries of ceramic art over a hundred years ago. </div><div> </div><div><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRdCI8ZKU6qoXWM5yxCY9kf4h1TXDo4P6KUdqffdBeRDIRSjnLPIIHR_215s7L2Zw8sYkW4HtE2adBDqFovGBw-P0JjCgyfxIJ8fGqWAxZQYsQB8ivk1Ohro8uwYyvxGrwjmrZJLqVQRh/s1200/2+George+Ohr%252C+Vase+1898-1910%252CElisa+D%2527Arrigo%252C+Blue+Dyad+1%252C+2015.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="1200" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRdCI8ZKU6qoXWM5yxCY9kf4h1TXDo4P6KUdqffdBeRDIRSjnLPIIHR_215s7L2Zw8sYkW4HtE2adBDqFovGBw-P0JjCgyfxIJ8fGqWAxZQYsQB8ivk1Ohro8uwYyvxGrwjmrZJLqVQRh/w400-h369/2+George+Ohr%252C+Vase+1898-1910%252CElisa+D%2527Arrigo%252C+Blue+Dyad+1%252C+2015.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">George Ohr, <i>Vase</i>, 1898-1910; <a href="https://www.elisadarrigo.com" target="_blank">Elisa D'Arrigo</a>, <i>Blue Dyad 1</i>, 2015</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ohr's folded forms are eccentric and beautiful, and have a sense of pulsing life. I very much enjoyed the installation of this show, especially when there was a conversation like this one between's Ohr's vase and Elisa D'Arrigo's writhing sculpture, with its pipe-forms reaching upwards. The surface appears pitted, irregular, as though pushing against a simple idea of beauty. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiT4cpFBOxXsLd9sXXgpBXgQrA8NFK89eX9XKeYLE2I6fp9wmzkmJ9ehRoOnuN-_G6Wl-CstaNByCo1o21kj7LYdh_pnmEqhtr8Ui0bKSOxothgbXdQEGGbIiEghDAgk4RHqcLz3NvHUx/s1200/3+Kyoko+Tonegawa%252C+Quaternary%252C+1986.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="1200" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiT4cpFBOxXsLd9sXXgpBXgQrA8NFK89eX9XKeYLE2I6fp9wmzkmJ9ehRoOnuN-_G6Wl-CstaNByCo1o21kj7LYdh_pnmEqhtr8Ui0bKSOxothgbXdQEGGbIiEghDAgk4RHqcLz3NvHUx/w400-h336/3+Kyoko+Tonegawa%252C+Quaternary%252C+1986.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.texturedpots.com/home.html" target="_blank">Kyoko Tonegawa</a>, Asteroidal Last Gasp, 1985</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>As with D'Arrigo's piece I'm not sure if this work by Kyoko Tonegawa is functional, or a sculpture...but does it matter? The bulbous form with its lush surface does ask for a touch, a caress. It could also be an ancient life form, whose texture and shape has softened over time. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBhlcf5bh1st3fPNXvAuOHI6GHXrQ_kqRLop4JD3PRnl_Ly7WE0UjtR48-iDQBcOa87riS7W-ZcnMaQCeFnGP-68TJ0vRslh11hFonrZwZ0U_eMlIKplc3iWeeIAAk0JVPqEPDy8BjSY-/s1200/4+Rudolf+Staffel%252C+Light+Gatherer%252C+1988.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="872" data-original-width="1200" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOBhlcf5bh1st3fPNXvAuOHI6GHXrQ_kqRLop4JD3PRnl_Ly7WE0UjtR48-iDQBcOa87riS7W-ZcnMaQCeFnGP-68TJ0vRslh11hFonrZwZ0U_eMlIKplc3iWeeIAAk0JVPqEPDy8BjSY-/w400-h291/4+Rudolf+Staffel%252C+Light+Gatherer%252C+1988.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rudolfstaffel.com/sculptures" target="_blank">Rudolph Staffel</a>, <i>Light Gatherer</i>, 1988</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the first Rudolph Staffel piece I've seen in person, but I've loved the work I've seen online. He worked with porcelain, and in many of his Light Gatherers the clay is so thin that light shines through it, making it look magically lit from within. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rHr-JjUPImpbgjiR1gAjTO3A-I3BMw1AIbPHwZf7WLxPB6yMnRJIeJ7Ym3DHd3M3upL3T0_Tf7nXvSHmZZS3ISvhznjnGLNofag5y32VbR0bJNK6ypZMy4yFWqvy_AfKD36G5cK1gmaI/s1100/5+Kathy+Butterly%252C+Pony+Boy%252C+2011.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1006" data-original-width="1100" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rHr-JjUPImpbgjiR1gAjTO3A-I3BMw1AIbPHwZf7WLxPB6yMnRJIeJ7Ym3DHd3M3upL3T0_Tf7nXvSHmZZS3ISvhznjnGLNofag5y32VbR0bJNK6ypZMy4yFWqvy_AfKD36G5cK1gmaI/w400-h366/5+Kathy+Butterly%252C+Pony+Boy%252C+2011.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://kathybutterly.com/" target="_blank">Kathy Butterly</a>, <i>Pony Boy</i>, 2111</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kathy Butterly is another artist who seems a descendent of Ohr in her draped forms and the modest size of her work. This piece looks to me like it's dancing in a floppy rhythm, with a foot forward and arms upraised. The looseness is held in check with a sharp vertical line and other soft lines emphasizing curves. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7l4Fp4SRDFl-wt2y24CjV3rNbrFvrnHCz_AY9WoKw61EgxgHFy37O7d1GuBW1wK4mucpROcV3eTF3La65epqzydmGaYu1fUEMBSXmWPRBUM2mX1y6vWJNxrLsDE0XwzHnHf_dZmSrMNOF/s1100/6+Ken+Price%252C+Untitled+%2528Vessel%2529%252C+1957.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="791" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7l4Fp4SRDFl-wt2y24CjV3rNbrFvrnHCz_AY9WoKw61EgxgHFy37O7d1GuBW1wK4mucpROcV3eTF3La65epqzydmGaYu1fUEMBSXmWPRBUM2mX1y6vWJNxrLsDE0XwzHnHf_dZmSrMNOF/w288-h400/6+Ken+Price%252C+Untitled+%2528Vessel%2529%252C+1957.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.kenprice.com" target="_blank">Ken Price</a>, <i>Untitled (Vessel)</i>, 1957</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>There were several pieces in the show which were built using thin slabs of clay, as with this Ken Price vessel. Price is such an interesting artist, whose work ranges across ceramic categories, from biomorphic sculpture to useful or geometric cups. I love this vessel that for me is a figure, with a head divided into shapes. It feels very cubist to me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFVplECyshl6i7lDYjDssYjA6EdYUDzeB4rUbSiG_bMb3siDW4kghF3Dfnmo_yY_naBuUNm0DOe3tDnKaXcOAARKgZ6CRISrK-8GQo0LA3ixcOfpi8MUrutc7ShwLsfTp4I_9ybUVRaqm/s1200/7+Harris+Deller%252C+Suppressed+Volume+Series%252C+Stacked%252C+1990.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1127" data-original-width="1200" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFVplECyshl6i7lDYjDssYjA6EdYUDzeB4rUbSiG_bMb3siDW4kghF3Dfnmo_yY_naBuUNm0DOe3tDnKaXcOAARKgZ6CRISrK-8GQo0LA3ixcOfpi8MUrutc7ShwLsfTp4I_9ybUVRaqm/w400-h376/7+Harris+Deller%252C+Suppressed+Volume+Series%252C+Stacked%252C+1990.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.harrisdeller.com" target="_blank">Harris Deller</a>, <i>Suppressed Volume Series, Stacked, Vase with Key Hole Pattern</i>, 1990</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This vase by Harris Deller is another slab-built work. I admire the subtle shift in the volumes of the parts. The surface decoration doesn't seem to have anything to do with the form underneath, yet its movement and clarity enhances those minimal volumes. The lines are like contour maps, describing an imagined landscape. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhf8gSA9Tqz32b4WVR4WarsWagJ7fPfcwjz-52_aYT_9hGCvF0uxVlWhHMmnP_GnHh8VNy68gOhQ6tISA7S1yjpQV4RYKNa5adH28GBsQxnAbGaE_5-NjTjqImgioHDLTXMX6mEJ0dShQ/s1200/8+Chris+Gustin%252C+Pink+Teapot+with+Slit+no.+9015%252C+1990.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1013" data-original-width="1200" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhf8gSA9Tqz32b4WVR4WarsWagJ7fPfcwjz-52_aYT_9hGCvF0uxVlWhHMmnP_GnHh8VNy68gOhQ6tISA7S1yjpQV4RYKNa5adH28GBsQxnAbGaE_5-NjTjqImgioHDLTXMX6mEJ0dShQ/w400-h338/8+Chris+Gustin%252C+Pink+Teapot+with+Slit+no.+9015%252C+1990.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://gustinceramics.com/studio/" target="_blank">Chris Gustin</a>, <i>Pink Teapot with Slit #9015</i>, 1990</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Wow, I said to myself when I spotted this wacky teapot, whose spout I couldn't find. It's a fleshy accumulation of forms, looking soft and squeezable, like babies' bottoms. (Sorry, couldn't resist that metaphor.) It's just marvelous that the artist made a sculpture of fired clay, which is hard, look like we can push our finger into it and leave a dimple.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoalp5Lcone0O5dM7qLJeqFzn_r1TlUF8Qgt6zz5UWApqpWAl25oQFUoEEZ94YMg10hpKkFaLIMgPg7I7IwdOtHLy7vq4d6FKA2Owvj0_5im_hAn6oN_q9PVTfV-P45lCTdyW0IBc2kOk0/s1207/9+Amara+Geffen%252C+Arhkaiokurios%252C+1991.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1207" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoalp5Lcone0O5dM7qLJeqFzn_r1TlUF8Qgt6zz5UWApqpWAl25oQFUoEEZ94YMg10hpKkFaLIMgPg7I7IwdOtHLy7vq4d6FKA2Owvj0_5im_hAn6oN_q9PVTfV-P45lCTdyW0IBc2kOk0/w398-h400/9+Amara+Geffen%252C+Arhkaiokurios%252C+1991.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amarageffenstudios.com/index.php/public-projects/" target="_blank">Amara Geffen</a>, <i>Arhkaiokurios</i>, 1991</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>I sometimes have the strangest reactions to work that I assume is abstract, so odd as to wonder if I should admit to it. But here goes: when I saw this Amara Geffen piece I immediately responded to the repetition of the rounded forms, and to the slightly different form held up by the six below. I saw a worship ceremony, with figures elevating a prized member of society, or like the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_calf" target="_blank">worship of the golden calf</a>. Whatever the interpretation, it's a compelling piece. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiRID-nRrkElfLXvc37rV5c9HdFQxeleRPiNw2pUqosXlBB-M-UKy2RP8H3pqzIGTxa8BSUPyZ-8AXjH3U04Gw5bGXu77lorjupokCfShOE_YMdKcj4Ozn2fXl7tYwZP8G4aztUci09Jb/s1100/10+Arnie+Zimmerman%252C+Vapor+I%252C+1992.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="859" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYiRID-nRrkElfLXvc37rV5c9HdFQxeleRPiNw2pUqosXlBB-M-UKy2RP8H3pqzIGTxa8BSUPyZ-8AXjH3U04Gw5bGXu77lorjupokCfShOE_YMdKcj4Ozn2fXl7tYwZP8G4aztUci09Jb/w313-h400/10+Arnie+Zimmerman%252C+Vapor+I%252C+1992.jpg" width="313" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.arniezimmerman.com" target="_blank">Arnie Zimmerman</a>, <i>Vapor I</i>, 1992</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Although I can't really say that I like this sculpture by Arnie Zimmerman––it's pretty far from my usual formalist leanings––but I truly admire its exuberant shapes and its color relationships. I think the color is quite gorgeous, and the choice to have a more neutral central color-shape is perfect. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsS52W4Yf1tKun8VRSKU1BZW_zWrRN9sj2hkGG7gkq8YAem7zydqP-lxszvjfkTticVb8zl9PYCCXqoPl6usgnywMke4-COhwDIXsQ4xLlivXTzGa5c5F2AlCEzYqs9bF1S8I_sg7p0uku/s1200/11+Stanley+Rosen%252C+Untitled%252C+2000s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1110" data-original-width="1200" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsS52W4Yf1tKun8VRSKU1BZW_zWrRN9sj2hkGG7gkq8YAem7zydqP-lxszvjfkTticVb8zl9PYCCXqoPl6usgnywMke4-COhwDIXsQ4xLlivXTzGa5c5F2AlCEzYqs9bF1S8I_sg7p0uku/w400-h370/11+Stanley+Rosen%252C+Untitled%252C+2000s.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://stanleyrosenceramics.com" target="_blank">Stanley Rosen</a>, <i>Untitled</i>, 200s</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Stanley Rosen has a unique approach to making sculpture, with an accumulation of small rolled pieces of clay, one atop another and another, until the form is built. Because the pieces of clay are irregular, the result doesn't have a clear pattern, but rather a quirky description of volumes. A result of this technique is a sense of movement, with the energy of all those elements marching forward or swaying from side to side. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwxny4YggaX6NIOvbKAiBToqEo71bTPJaDJNACs8rXxZfJA8pOPlSxthOWMP9OCEVJ1C6PvKDLtd0vaQrEzyynqrrAfNtZL3mSdyAGhQcAdX4Xmb6S516XsHKm6K6LZwzunGQyTWL-vhM/s1200/12+Anne+Marie+Laureys%252C+Cloud+Unicus%252C+2017.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1103" data-original-width="1200" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwxny4YggaX6NIOvbKAiBToqEo71bTPJaDJNACs8rXxZfJA8pOPlSxthOWMP9OCEVJ1C6PvKDLtd0vaQrEzyynqrrAfNtZL3mSdyAGhQcAdX4Xmb6S516XsHKm6K6LZwzunGQyTWL-vhM/w400-h368/12+Anne+Marie+Laureys%252C+Cloud+Unicus%252C+2017.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.annemarielaureys.com/ceramics/" target="_blank">Anne Marie Laureys</a>, <i>Cloud Unicus</i>, 2017</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I think I can say that this sculpture by Anne Marie Laureys was my favorite in the show. I was moved by its soft, billowing forms, seemingly impossible to have created, and by its subtle color. The surface appears brushed, like a velvet cloth. There is something very tender about this work; perhaps it's the deep folds gently turned in upon each other. It's a beautiful work, among many other wonderful pieces in this exhibition that I feel lucky to have been able to see. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>(A note to my email subscribers: I've moved my email list to a new platform, follow.it, and hope that you get this post, fingers crossed. It's scheduled to go out at 7PM. You should also check your spam folder.)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-78102287529091455412021-06-03T09:39:00.001-04:002021-06-03T09:39:24.466-04:00At the Met: Faces<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQm6tPS7igf9-I5A0sryK4VrbJftCOvC5csWME528MPW23tYyIC4hmkein8V5tRovySOUDqfeztLGaGqjGTwp4hLAl18DlYstbIpQHuit72PtA2jfnfQp-jmrpKjitJ7Ku64cj_eEtWCYM/s1000/1+Head+and+neck+from+a+marble+figure%252C+Cycladic%252C+2700-2500+B.C..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="917" data-original-width="1000" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQm6tPS7igf9-I5A0sryK4VrbJftCOvC5csWME528MPW23tYyIC4hmkein8V5tRovySOUDqfeztLGaGqjGTwp4hLAl18DlYstbIpQHuit72PtA2jfnfQp-jmrpKjitJ7Ku64cj_eEtWCYM/w400-h366/1+Head+and+neck+from+a+marble+figure%252C+Cycladic%252C+2700-2500+B.C..jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Head and Neck from a marble figure, <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/ecyc/hd_ecyc.htm" target="_blank">Cycladic</a>, 2700-2500 B.C.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While wandering through the Metropolitan Museum of Art I was struck by the inventiveness and varied approaches to abstraction when it came to depicting faces, both human and animal. In this very early small Cycladic head, all we see is the shape of the face with a protruding nose, yet it is distinctly human, We read this as a face even with minimal information; its forms are simple and beautifully rendered. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUtYAdPAIOhKsUALs9S1w5Mk4jJFtdzwl6G01k8N2X6e9ioa8I-2ezteEFhZ_poZXcaL_4K5qhXbEBLAOxk9bJFryLAzpSIUwrzFELJ1l1vhRjFe7dZUzHuLIXfBQYrLyhZMcENWiPEdY/s1200/2+Spouted+Vessel%252C+Mexican%252C+Huastec%252C+13th-15th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1139" data-original-width="1200" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUtYAdPAIOhKsUALs9S1w5Mk4jJFtdzwl6G01k8N2X6e9ioa8I-2ezteEFhZ_poZXcaL_4K5qhXbEBLAOxk9bJFryLAzpSIUwrzFELJ1l1vhRjFe7dZUzHuLIXfBQYrLyhZMcENWiPEdY/w400-h380/2+Spouted+Vessel%252C+Mexican%252C+Huastec%252C+13th-15th+century.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Spouted Vessel, Mexican, Huastec, 13th-15th century</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This decorated Mexican vessel depicts a face with an expression of wide-eyed surprise, emphasized by the eyelashes surrounding the protruding eyes and the dark, upturned nostrils. The piece is decorated with elegant abstract designs, moving it away from any perceived naturalism.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTpOw21rE9gtxZv4qtwrkZCrN_t9GIqFI8qPBoCxQvZFAmce6qDmvYblveRVTXjKIcgAnadfY8oE8_l0cdk0zKmKh3V7xmZjEsGatnU-g1eTAmcMWoDoYRXzyqjqs4Pt1PVRysH_xlhap/s1200/3+Vulture+bowl%252C+Mexico%252C+Isla+de+Sacrificios%252C+13th-15+century.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="927" data-original-width="1200" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTpOw21rE9gtxZv4qtwrkZCrN_t9GIqFI8qPBoCxQvZFAmce6qDmvYblveRVTXjKIcgAnadfY8oE8_l0cdk0zKmKh3V7xmZjEsGatnU-g1eTAmcMWoDoYRXzyqjqs4Pt1PVRysH_xlhap/w400-h309/3+Vulture+bowl%252C+Mexico%252C+Isla+de+Sacrificios%252C+13th-15+century.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/310533" target="_blank">Vulture Bowl, Mexico, Isla de Sacrificios, 13th-15th century</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I love this wacky bird, eyeing me intently. His polka-dotted neck and abstracted feathers, along with the handles as wings, add whimsy. Of course, I don't know if that interpretation is that of the artist; perhaps they saw this bird as threatening. <div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSH8_LtMatKUmrO73_07PcPAnKKYe8daNZOsRIy_sH2Ezsf9U0oWqbHmbyZy-59FwQyz45HYhpCuU-8dcY_OU8OOCIbXSrUxnPJNiiyL4Jm5A6ayigFS4hNWXkskrzZv89JAh7LJCNLWGf/s1000/4+Memorial+Head%252C+Ghana%252C+Akan+peoples%252C+17th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="834" height="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSH8_LtMatKUmrO73_07PcPAnKKYe8daNZOsRIy_sH2Ezsf9U0oWqbHmbyZy-59FwQyz45HYhpCuU-8dcY_OU8OOCIbXSrUxnPJNiiyL4Jm5A6ayigFS4hNWXkskrzZv89JAh7LJCNLWGf/w307-h367/4+Memorial+Head%252C+Ghana%252C+Akan+peoples%252C+17th+century.jpg" width="307" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/311024" target="_blank">Memorial Head, Ghana, Akan peoples, 17th century</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>African artists from all over the continent had a marvelous ability to simplify the human face into beautiful shapes, lines, curves, volumes. With its perfect oval form, closed eyes, and calm expression it could almost be the head of a Buddha, as well as a ruler of the Akan people. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgElaXu-huXQJgfuWRUuKjmGEAk6a88YDNF3aZ8MrJTIzCTqPelhsNTprn7xr6P8Uko1XjSOMUu1vsZDcbU0GHvDqXeb-8tiw1Gwv_xM-Qt9L-j5pPdZONyBcqjxRU5Ds3mcQS2I7cxHd/s1100/5+Mask%252C+Cote+d%2527Ivoire+or+Liberia%252C+Ku+peoples%252C+19th-mid+20th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="799" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgElaXu-huXQJgfuWRUuKjmGEAk6a88YDNF3aZ8MrJTIzCTqPelhsNTprn7xr6P8Uko1XjSOMUu1vsZDcbU0GHvDqXeb-8tiw1Gwv_xM-Qt9L-j5pPdZONyBcqjxRU5Ds3mcQS2I7cxHd/w290-h400/5+Mask%252C+Cote+d%2527Ivoire+or+Liberia%252C+Ku+peoples%252C+19th-mid+20th+century.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mask, Cote d'Ivoire or Liberia, Ku peoples, 19th-mid 20th century</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>From serenity in the work above, there's a shift to an elongated fierceness in this mask with jagged teeth and cylindrical eyes, and a knife-edge slice of a nose. The forms are softened by the gentle curves of the mask's outline.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUu89-0ym9hR5lD1YU5rLRtdSWBRmvsXhVFX-J0qSE8Nkv40cFYjpDNbvzwZF-9qe2Z6VMnzNgEhcFVegWnGOcGNWrZ0f6aQX_cqpAR_kYjxIZDGS8qPKmpgoNxv4jx3BpqKCk_05wptn/s1000/6+Janus-faced+headdress%252C+Nigeria%252C+Yoruba+peoples%252C+19th+century.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="839" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUu89-0ym9hR5lD1YU5rLRtdSWBRmvsXhVFX-J0qSE8Nkv40cFYjpDNbvzwZF-9qe2Z6VMnzNgEhcFVegWnGOcGNWrZ0f6aQX_cqpAR_kYjxIZDGS8qPKmpgoNxv4jx3BpqKCk_05wptn/w335-h400/6+Janus-faced+headdress%252C+Nigeria%252C+Yoruba+peoples%252C+19th+century.jpg" width="335" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/310235" target="_blank">Janus-faced headdress, Nigeria, Yoruba peoples, 19th century</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This headdress is called Janus-faced because there's a similar face backing this one. The eye shapes remind me of the ovals of the memorial head above, but this face is more aggressively abstract; the long, protruding nose with lips below balance the eyes beautifully. I find the saw-toothed edge very interesting; I don't think I've seen that before. At the top of the headdress are two horns, and etched into the wood below them are two ovals for the eyes of an animal. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcNV-Nrf2hCkVNaZ5EpSwucUjsk5CFPGppzkaj5qcmil8HPARBFiCdgmG_gXpBn_7sfh7K3Jjy5OGBj9LfUlhC5V4K0Npyb4mTi_EbRWVqpOYkJg0jDwS8RAKb_jybGn9yavKjHpjfjao/s1100/7+African+Power+Figure%252C+Kongo+peoples%252C+19th-mid+20th+century+.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="889" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggcNV-Nrf2hCkVNaZ5EpSwucUjsk5CFPGppzkaj5qcmil8HPARBFiCdgmG_gXpBn_7sfh7K3Jjy5OGBj9LfUlhC5V4K0Npyb4mTi_EbRWVqpOYkJg0jDwS8RAKb_jybGn9yavKjHpjfjao/w324-h400/7+African+Power+Figure%252C+Kongo+peoples%252C+19th-mid+20th+century+.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/312342" target="_blank">African power figure, Kongo peoples, 19th-mid 20th century</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>I'm fascinated by the upturned head of this magical power figure. He seems to be quietly beseeching the gods. Although the form of his head is stylized, and his body is hung with strange (to me) objects of prayer, he is so very alive. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw63Cxz5cBX8PltRgWXOr4DuSoTZOMIY24XfD0k_pPfu-8IX3NCgSLTD41CPMub7c3oP8cob4ptjJKOWhMm_gmfWz2wSHxOzDJqd5OJNs9yAiZxqvycMhfWm7Zy_e1Z-s3BckoPU1bxxmQ/s1200/8+Masks%252C+Kodiak+Island%252C+Alaska%252C+Alutiiq%253ASugpiak+artists%252C+ca.+1870.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="1200" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw63Cxz5cBX8PltRgWXOr4DuSoTZOMIY24XfD0k_pPfu-8IX3NCgSLTD41CPMub7c3oP8cob4ptjJKOWhMm_gmfWz2wSHxOzDJqd5OJNs9yAiZxqvycMhfWm7Zy_e1Z-s3BckoPU1bxxmQ/w400-h308/8+Masks%252C+Kodiak+Island%252C+Alaska%252C+Alutiiq%253ASugpiak+artists%252C+ca.+1870.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/752034" target="_blank">Masks, Kodiak Island, Alaska, ca. 1870</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With these two masks we are back in the Western hemisphere, but as I look at them I might think that they're African. It makes me wonder whether there is a universality of form in this stylized type of art, tempered by cultural differences. The move away from naturalism toward simplification brings great power to this imagery that a more delicate realism cannot match, although that has its own strengths. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPObxuZ526tsLXT4FA9t74S_cFISWTLxIg5TCdEUVOf2SUKOOj8nLyg17rdup7DZyQV5rvb5K8aWn6JzfunABat8yONzAZ_Jj17bpXDNDXxoOAoHCwVcXIS35uKpD6SqM7OW9v5C-eJX2/s1000/9+Marble+Anthropoid+Sarcophagus%252C+Graeco-Phoenician%252C+last+quarter+of+5th+century+B.C..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="820" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPObxuZ526tsLXT4FA9t74S_cFISWTLxIg5TCdEUVOf2SUKOOj8nLyg17rdup7DZyQV5rvb5K8aWn6JzfunABat8yONzAZ_Jj17bpXDNDXxoOAoHCwVcXIS35uKpD6SqM7OW9v5C-eJX2/w328-h400/9+Marble+Anthropoid+Sarcophagus%252C+Graeco-Phoenician%252C+last+quarter+of+5th+century+B.C..jpg" width="328" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/242007" target="_blank">Marble anthropoid sarcophagus, Graeco-Phoenician, last quarter of 5th century B.C.</a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This sculpture of a woman's head with its clear, bold features and stylized curls is more naturalistic than the works above, but still quite simplified. Her head rises above a plain sarcophagus (see in link) whose only details are the wavy lines at the top. This makes for a startling apparition when seeing the actual work.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQcGw-JWQF1kjXP7IuMxAZg_fW4SCyX5aTv-78pL-LUN0OXli1JYMTCtDuFFbxzewjp-UjyfobEKNoIAtva5jL0FS617CzHGK4-JQZEI5eZjKZkf8HQUlSa6MFZRhnoyGfFUU5L2ufEo2/s1100/10+Marble+funerary+altar+of+Cominia+Tyche%252C+Roman%252C+ca.+A.D.+90-100.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="814" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikQcGw-JWQF1kjXP7IuMxAZg_fW4SCyX5aTv-78pL-LUN0OXli1JYMTCtDuFFbxzewjp-UjyfobEKNoIAtva5jL0FS617CzHGK4-JQZEI5eZjKZkf8HQUlSa6MFZRhnoyGfFUU5L2ufEo2/w296-h400/10+Marble+funerary+altar+of+Cominia+Tyche%252C+Roman%252C+ca.+A.D.+90-100.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/253569" target="_blank">Marble funerary altar of Cominia Tyche, Roman, ca. A.D. 60-100</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A style closer to a Western idea of realism is evident in this sensitively rendered funerary portrait of a young woman. The flesh appears soft, the features delicate and particular to an individual. Only the hair is abstracted, with the curls as tightly wound circles. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbiqtvzNHelnfQgoYK8DG_WwEp74M9CsHrrqq4N62bzepH0ke2WfcIII_FGnGK5ld8G5D2Rpg8ui0UJ9PSsf3e3sC8iuAQGNvMj-X826qF7X2o2qYujQCK5Lj52QmleWBR7Co1k8PLg9M/s1200/11+Portrait+of+a+Carthusian%252C+Petrus+Christus%252C+1446.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="826" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbiqtvzNHelnfQgoYK8DG_WwEp74M9CsHrrqq4N62bzepH0ke2WfcIII_FGnGK5ld8G5D2Rpg8ui0UJ9PSsf3e3sC8iuAQGNvMj-X826qF7X2o2qYujQCK5Lj52QmleWBR7Co1k8PLg9M/w275-h400/11+Portrait+of+a+Carthusian%252C+Petrus+Christus%252C+1446.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Portrait of a Carthusian, Petrus Christus, 1446</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I had to include one painting in this post, and that of a face that I find intriguing. The heightened realism of Christus' painting invites me to attempt to understand the character of this monk. He is looking out with an expression that is somewhat askance, solemn and questioning. The portrait is so carefully observed, from the features to the delicate, cascading beard. Christus also plays with illusion by painting a fly on the edge of the frame.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQb5JHKWSJFXVOEsh3raQ0XImEgtuJ13zMTNQj6mfIi62v7ZJ-A5_ISDVoKt5OzuiABU5tKe4ZHg8unAnfW26Ofy7_Q85eAOGwTVqWGGaZzVMG7L-p8bquv0945ESaAtHrnjx09tMjxel/s1100/12+Woman%2527s+Head%252C+Amedeo+Modigliani%252C+1912.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="814" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQb5JHKWSJFXVOEsh3raQ0XImEgtuJ13zMTNQj6mfIi62v7ZJ-A5_ISDVoKt5OzuiABU5tKe4ZHg8unAnfW26Ofy7_Q85eAOGwTVqWGGaZzVMG7L-p8bquv0945ESaAtHrnjx09tMjxel/w296-h400/12+Woman%2527s+Head%252C+Amedeo+Modigliani%252C+1912.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Woman's Head, Amedeo Modigliani, 1912</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Modigliani's modernism takes us back to an abstracted vision, inspired by the art of Africa. Those oval eyes, long nose, and slitted mouth can be seen as direct descendants of some of the sculpture pictured above, with his personal touch of elongation. </div><div><br /></div><div>**I enjoyed thinking about and seeing how differently faces can be appear in art. The Met allows for that with its extensive collections. I would like to remind you that clicking on an image will show it enlarged. I've provided links to the Met's descriptions of some of the objects if the information on their website is especially elucidating. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-89096491940230824172021-05-27T15:58:00.000-04:002021-05-27T15:58:08.374-04:00At Last, at the Met: Some Favorites<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPineUGo9vzGHq5r_t3quPwNt0q0ngqmm1ddYMzUKmYyg3bk7wOo6vKNJjhKU568aWI_LqQZu1lORcd_22X7nQPUapJxpl9Vstw6Xw4wfjE25EtsfUSgt5WadHXEhuDfxgHG7kWV2-3sHl/s1200/1+Egyptian+bowl+with+feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1093" data-original-width="1200" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPineUGo9vzGHq5r_t3quPwNt0q0ngqmm1ddYMzUKmYyg3bk7wOo6vKNJjhKU568aWI_LqQZu1lORcd_22X7nQPUapJxpl9Vstw6Xw4wfjE25EtsfUSgt5WadHXEhuDfxgHG7kWV2-3sHl/w400-h364/1+Egyptian+bowl+with+feet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/547212" target="_blank">Egyptian bowl with human feet, ca. 3900-3650 B.C.</a></div><p><br /></p><p>Visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art is always a delight for me, and a solace. Finally, after a long hiatus, I was back wandering the galleries full of marvels from around the world. In this first of several posts from the Met I thought I'd show some favorite things that I go to see almost every time I'm in the museum. I was very interested to note that I seemed to gravitate to objects, things of three dimensions rather than paintings, during that day. </p><p>First, a charming small bowl––about 5 inches wide––held up by feet, found in the Egyptian galleries. The image is an embodiment of the hieroglyph "to bring" so it's believed that it was an offering bowl. I love its rounded little feet, its imperfect round bowl tilting forward as though saying "here I am". When I saw that there was a small reproduction of this piece in the museum shop, I just had to have it, and it's now sitting on my desk, offering me joy. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWIdd6UPvw-mcFw1hCvDhy_7a-LB6vL-6HoiaRUDlYPkXdF2URcoGMz3FiQr5-FDQtDtN69jBcOlKmMKXtj1euAtWjPKsNyOOgKCA_j_S-P-9IdZUPYixOUWRaxaFVFosOu9hFgsAFv1Y/s1200/2+Reclining+dog%252C+Mexico%252C+Colima%252C+200+BC-AD+300%252C+ceramic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="1200" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWIdd6UPvw-mcFw1hCvDhy_7a-LB6vL-6HoiaRUDlYPkXdF2URcoGMz3FiQr5-FDQtDtN69jBcOlKmMKXtj1euAtWjPKsNyOOgKCA_j_S-P-9IdZUPYixOUWRaxaFVFosOu9hFgsAFv1Y/w400-h328/2+Reclining+dog%252C+Mexico%252C+Colima%252C+200+BC-AD+300%252C+ceramic.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/318964" target="_blank">Reclining Dog, Mexico, Colima, 200 B.C.-A.D. 300</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>This small dog is another perfect ceramic piece. He's to be found in the galleries devoted to the arts of the Americas. His expression is both alert, in his raised head and pricked ears, and calm, in the folded forms of his limbs. Such a good dog!</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAa2VRl5OH1vCHxv24uZzXhMubHd6x7_K-LhAEdqRDpcLbH8JgyW4i0pju09gebRdH50jg1NRTFNT4L0wYikp7TSkn5HlM1OftqcKUzla8ndtxvlCBpqDI2u8yPN_vSVI2BW3XgWhsQ16/s1200/3+Hunting+Dog%252C+European%252C+15th-16th+century+or+later.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="1200" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJAa2VRl5OH1vCHxv24uZzXhMubHd6x7_K-LhAEdqRDpcLbH8JgyW4i0pju09gebRdH50jg1NRTFNT4L0wYikp7TSkn5HlM1OftqcKUzla8ndtxvlCBpqDI2u8yPN_vSVI2BW3XgWhsQ16/w400-h363/3+Hunting+Dog%252C+European%252C+15th-16th+century+or+later.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/468493" target="_blank">Hunting Dog, European, 15th-16th century, or later</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>In a gallery on the way to the American wing is a small sculpture of a hunting dog. He has a very different demeanor from the one above: he is active, which shows in the movement of limbs, head, and tail. I love how the curve of his backward arcing neck implies a circle with the upraised tail. I never miss stopping to admire the fluidity and elegance of the lines in this work.<p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuwKAqH8wIrFR5OnMkoTHbebg9zoYIcfWJgdBi73B_mvSQVK6IXqePHzSOa073bfxKtEKLja2aVoKVTeh6E-7pdBI2unEhrADB8m17kVEpTMGQFTsTJGLo_l5MLO2dZnLS0GQtO-R9m4D/s1100/4+Mourner%252C+Pere+Oller%252C+Catalan%252C+ca+1417%252C+alabaster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="876" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuwKAqH8wIrFR5OnMkoTHbebg9zoYIcfWJgdBi73B_mvSQVK6IXqePHzSOa073bfxKtEKLja2aVoKVTeh6E-7pdBI2unEhrADB8m17kVEpTMGQFTsTJGLo_l5MLO2dZnLS0GQtO-R9m4D/w319-h400/4+Mourner%252C+Pere+Oller%252C+Catalan%252C+ca+1417%252C+alabaster.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/468637" target="_blank">Mourner, Pere Oller, Catalan, ca. 1417</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>A very different mood is evoked by this figure, which is seemingly monumental, but less than 15 inches high. The flowing garment has lyrical curves, which follow the movement of the body beneath. The enlarged hands emphasize grief, especially the one holding the tilted head, a solemn gesture of sadness. This is such a beautiful, tender piece.</p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6_3h0LQ5XmwDu7_Sug0uOFzS5UX4WfBaqyUEN570SfWPBvwd5-P8NJTqPruGY5rzZRekiAIftux1RgHO3xAAixJimRClEkr2RXM-s89ZQA1G4J2tbVUk0MBhKUcq7V2qy29XsUCLttAy/s1100/5+Mourning+Virgin%252C+France%252C+1450-75%252C+walnut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="806" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6_3h0LQ5XmwDu7_Sug0uOFzS5UX4WfBaqyUEN570SfWPBvwd5-P8NJTqPruGY5rzZRekiAIftux1RgHO3xAAixJimRClEkr2RXM-s89ZQA1G4J2tbVUk0MBhKUcq7V2qy29XsUCLttAy/w293-h400/5+Mourning+Virgin%252C+France%252C+1450-75%252C+walnut.jpg" width="293" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/463786" target="_blank">Mourning Virgin, France, 1450-75</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The sense of mourning in this sculpture is austere and restrained. The shadowed face, the downward-set mouth, the quietly crossed hands, all point to an attitude of inner resolve. The deeply carved folds of the cloak add drama. This is a figure of a strong woman. (To see the entire sculpture, go to the link under the photo.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1mcmXGzKWlBumOblelGsPanEytPfOaGDjSt9ix7AxpBq2i6j3ZKjTcQOYmKjuQT0G8yZIhBOTvvjjrThy3jYjyeG-A5x_cCF7N4bxK_AkPJtcQyQPvTybn1lFg9r3Dz2EQziE4wk9xVW/s900/7+Fragment+of+a+Queen%2527s+Face%252C+Egypt%252C+New+Kingdom%252C+Amarna+period%252C+1353-1336+B.C..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="900" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1mcmXGzKWlBumOblelGsPanEytPfOaGDjSt9ix7AxpBq2i6j3ZKjTcQOYmKjuQT0G8yZIhBOTvvjjrThy3jYjyeG-A5x_cCF7N4bxK_AkPJtcQyQPvTybn1lFg9r3Dz2EQziE4wk9xVW/w400-h354/7+Fragment+of+a+Queen%2527s+Face%252C+Egypt%252C+New+Kingdom%252C+Amarna+period%252C+1353-1336+B.C..jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/544514" target="_blank">Fragment of a Queen's Face, Egypt, New Kingdom, Amarna period, 1353-1336 B.C.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Although this is a fragment, its sensitivity and presence is compelling; it's almost difficult to look away when standing in front of it. The subject of the work is unknown, but whoever she was, she was beautiful and proud. The sculptor produced a remarkable work.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiND7DoXvkgV0xep5361DDOj2ccF9g9FZ6fLE3tLc5ENTWOAl_5oxx3TGsNA6rcCMNMccYLllV2N3p9Leip0_p-hbGwoosoUrWJLQGALJM7dzq7bOMwPoA6R0LCE17PHk9qOnz_1__VekNn/s1100/9+Pendant+Mask%252C+Queen+Mother%252C+Nigeria%252C+Kingdom+of+Benin%252C+16th+cent%252C+ivory%252C+iron%252C+copper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="865" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiND7DoXvkgV0xep5361DDOj2ccF9g9FZ6fLE3tLc5ENTWOAl_5oxx3TGsNA6rcCMNMccYLllV2N3p9Leip0_p-hbGwoosoUrWJLQGALJM7dzq7bOMwPoA6R0LCE17PHk9qOnz_1__VekNn/w315-h400/9+Pendant+Mask%252C+Queen+Mother%252C+Nigeria%252C+Kingdom+of+Benin%252C+16th+cent%252C+ivory%252C+iron%252C+copper.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/318622" target="_blank">Pendant Mask, Queen Mother, Nigeria, Kingdom of Benin, 16th century</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here is another powerful portrait of a queen, sculpted in ivory. The heavily lidded eyes are contemplative, the downward lines of nose and mouth are sensitively defined. I'm fascinated by the combination of naturalism and formal idealism in this work. There is also religion in the complex headdress and collar, with mudfish representing the king's dual nature of human and divine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5s0bnJVRyGNN-r612YFMSjVJAw9iqmYLIvWHHApCbRIwLQjoLUgae-KQ0in8mRwF0UtpItG84rVwUFoFtsRecKl9kXRHFxvbV_2a4Q2RtWtUESk9HyV83dAKK8yZBb9BL436hLyq1160/s1100/8+A+Man+with+High+Coloring%252C+Egypt%252C+161-180+A.D..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="868" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5s0bnJVRyGNN-r612YFMSjVJAw9iqmYLIvWHHApCbRIwLQjoLUgae-KQ0in8mRwF0UtpItG84rVwUFoFtsRecKl9kXRHFxvbV_2a4Q2RtWtUESk9HyV83dAKK8yZBb9BL436hLyq1160/w316-h400/8+A+Man+with+High+Coloring%252C+Egypt%252C+161-180+A.D..jpg" width="316" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A Man with High Coloring, Egypt, 161-180 A.D.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Of all the encaustic portraits in the Egyptian galleries, this one is my favorite. The paint is modeled so as to enhance the form of the face and the texture of hair and beard. The gaze is intense. These qualities combine to create a face that is so full of life that he could be our contemporary.<p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZC_TGDnOCgKs_ldiAnSd9S2lLREYVpxqcSprSEQJWSKWFG4EEFtefCFvZ86Mb3zN_F4TwlKtU_rKKS3h2eRqmMlGvrkLQ3w9vDWpDLFnBN1ew2Mf9c-LnFoHc0iRlmxOMSMIlomG-vuZO/s1200/10+Portrait+of+an+Old+Man%252C+Hans+Memling%252C+ca.+1475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="970" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZC_TGDnOCgKs_ldiAnSd9S2lLREYVpxqcSprSEQJWSKWFG4EEFtefCFvZ86Mb3zN_F4TwlKtU_rKKS3h2eRqmMlGvrkLQ3w9vDWpDLFnBN1ew2Mf9c-LnFoHc0iRlmxOMSMIlomG-vuZO/w324-h400/10+Portrait+of+an+Old+Man%252C+Hans+Memling%252C+ca.+1475.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Hans Memling, Portrait of an Old Man, ca. 1475</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>I love looking at this sensitively rendered portrait of an old man. He seems kind and thoughtful, reflecting on his life as he nears its end. In this painting, Memling shows himself to be a deeply humanistic painter. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubfnr9P8sMPh0pqttlXWjT8J52AhVmL1eaeVKYiBy6BhMQfYuNqMkX2fECQdl_ikw_KzRDiZ8x_lq3GpDFyxYH-S8yCbD_PpVNeUHBs119egAxwVU4wynGgOu4Jjv7CejD3b5bzx0U4B4/s1500/11+Petrus+Christus+lamentation%252C+Met%2527s+photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1087" data-original-width="1500" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubfnr9P8sMPh0pqttlXWjT8J52AhVmL1eaeVKYiBy6BhMQfYuNqMkX2fECQdl_ikw_KzRDiZ8x_lq3GpDFyxYH-S8yCbD_PpVNeUHBs119egAxwVU4wynGgOu4Jjv7CejD3b5bzx0U4B4/w400-h290/11+Petrus+Christus+lamentation%252C+Met%2527s+photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/435898" target="_blank">Petrus Christus, The Lamentation, ca. 1450</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">image courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Now on to two works which I had hoped to see, but were not on view. The Lamentation by Petrus Christus is my most loved painting in the museum, so I was crushed not to see it. The clarity of form, the repeating curved lines of the figures, the small mundane details, the landscape setting, the emotional reserve of the figures, all combine to create a strikingly moving scene.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbij87ToX0znXk8s9PjxruDD0M9fvZtzlNzb5XyGKARH8zmnLovY96mlW6fbyvDhXpbxStGBdcd_JhdxDNOTrNpTHY2Dnv7YqD-T9Mh3eNMLIsFfGSF9azqiGKJiymzRZC0xV_YLDBZ-oe/s800/12++standing+man%252C+iran%252C+2nd+century+a.d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="613" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbij87ToX0znXk8s9PjxruDD0M9fvZtzlNzb5XyGKARH8zmnLovY96mlW6fbyvDhXpbxStGBdcd_JhdxDNOTrNpTHY2Dnv7YqD-T9Mh3eNMLIsFfGSF9azqiGKJiymzRZC0xV_YLDBZ-oe/w306-h400/12++standing+man%252C+iran%252C+2nd+century+a.d.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Standing Man, Iran, 2nd century A.D. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I also missed seeing the jolly face and gesture of this sculpture from ancient Iran. He sends us greetings from across space and time.<p></p><p><br /></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-18545884500777813122021-05-19T16:06:00.001-04:002021-05-19T16:06:21.831-04:00Growth, Decay, Growth<p><br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8ec-wLPiYIvGHu7jOEfeHFVmgm0_V2dLoYJw9NEbrP7wMz6LJWa75qm-yhzp70co3WbFWKtLUUCfyt3QJu_wJkE88Ei_iatJdnXrkPiaeYbuW9KYvfWxSeOs1R9V94lbQL07kmApoF_7/s1200/2+broccoli.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1200" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig8ec-wLPiYIvGHu7jOEfeHFVmgm0_V2dLoYJw9NEbrP7wMz6LJWa75qm-yhzp70co3WbFWKtLUUCfyt3QJu_wJkE88Ei_iatJdnXrkPiaeYbuW9KYvfWxSeOs1R9V94lbQL07kmApoF_7/w400-h329/2+broccoli.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Early spring: the time of year when I spend most of my time in the vegetable garden, preparing rows, planting seeds and home-grown seedlings, weeding and weeding again. It is also a time when I am struck with wonder at the miracle of it all: the seeds germinating, the growth patterns, the yearly emergence of asparagus spears, the delicious fruits and vegetables I'm able to grow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPx5fbOmxRlaMoJXcK-JBgsSsTEuyoIKOB2RUmlAvupnuYxfGO_Ed7-S8PaZy6OGH4TzlIsejUPPkgkbGIWCQtIVCOjrf3JVEMoLnTIPXDW6Ttgvelzca7OvgNk97ECqEedXijAJSG-5ke/s900/1+broccoli+seeds.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="900" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPx5fbOmxRlaMoJXcK-JBgsSsTEuyoIKOB2RUmlAvupnuYxfGO_Ed7-S8PaZy6OGH4TzlIsejUPPkgkbGIWCQtIVCOjrf3JVEMoLnTIPXDW6Ttgvelzca7OvgNk97ECqEedXijAJSG-5ke/w400-h285/1+broccoli+seeds.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Although I do understand––a little––about DNA, it still seems remarkable that this teeny broccoli seed, put in soil and watered, will grow into the broccoli plant in the first photo; it is mind-boggling to think about it.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDW7iI-8mY52civHI7QurdQExD4OAJZlsRLPX0RdRMdbqlxOb1Lqm2J5mVPv7yggRxewx3fEsmrc6_fZrJXKllVp9NxQDgjrAZXILrmtapLTPVA2Uop7eiel7Di02wA4LYOPcenYR7bUTr/s1000/3+corn+seeds.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1000" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDW7iI-8mY52civHI7QurdQExD4OAJZlsRLPX0RdRMdbqlxOb1Lqm2J5mVPv7yggRxewx3fEsmrc6_fZrJXKllVp9NxQDgjrAZXILrmtapLTPVA2Uop7eiel7Di02wA4LYOPcenYR7bUTr/w400-h340/3+corn+seeds.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>These more recognizable seeds of corn will grow into six foot tall plants. Of course other life forms, including Homo sapiens, have tiny beginnings, all wondrous. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNfz3lGSaOF4Uk4iKmQ-9cfWkkwO-j7d-5Sj7kCRCWbNfjXpSWu8G-sZk2t9oTzNIFq9enzG8yMXZ_GAnuP61ZfYgmQJLxz17oIJvckHeSMpZUiKWESo51Hre8ERv5LGMvq_49TuhXZQi/s1200/4+compost+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaNfz3lGSaOF4Uk4iKmQ-9cfWkkwO-j7d-5Sj7kCRCWbNfjXpSWu8G-sZk2t9oTzNIFq9enzG8yMXZ_GAnuP61ZfYgmQJLxz17oIJvckHeSMpZUiKWESo51Hre8ERv5LGMvq_49TuhXZQi/w400-h300/4+compost+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Working in the garden, and walking in the woods, also reminds me that decay has a major role in the life cycle. A compost pile is a clear lesson in how scraps of food and plant remains can be transformed over time...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0hSVNfOBV8xilAHVcPTbQScffkPKT0v1v20c8SskICtntVCHYkST7kci4ozOHj9PnCCXNjJOAYlsA-Yo08ptT16YToQz5bOvHIoy0N5iYTfQaUn1RLq-oQ_XFHJT6t1z46x3q56gM6EV/s1200/5+compost+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0hSVNfOBV8xilAHVcPTbQScffkPKT0v1v20c8SskICtntVCHYkST7kci4ozOHj9PnCCXNjJOAYlsA-Yo08ptT16YToQz5bOvHIoy0N5iYTfQaUn1RLq-oQ_XFHJT6t1z46x3q56gM6EV/w400-h300/5+compost+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>,,,,into a nutrient rich soil supplement.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX3dc0EWa5fXvqQ5pOkduX62XnhJljZ4dxB8Z_7v0mMhaduTl4jtTnu-Q4obtk6lz19Q_CYHQ95-eiTxOy6CCYIToP_sAmF3qWy_aU4ViDvnG_7SNBvJMO1WQDQtVclm8x633YuT-LkUSs/s1100/11+new+maple.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="933" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX3dc0EWa5fXvqQ5pOkduX62XnhJljZ4dxB8Z_7v0mMhaduTl4jtTnu-Q4obtk6lz19Q_CYHQ95-eiTxOy6CCYIToP_sAmF3qWy_aU4ViDvnG_7SNBvJMO1WQDQtVclm8x633YuT-LkUSs/w339-h400/11+new+maple.jpg" width="339" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>In a more natural way, years of decaying plant material creates a forest floor welcoming to new plants and trees. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tGv51UVNY045-zB_V_B0C-hx_zvbaNaidT45rAFWBUacUivmzRfsrcovN5NN-66gngq6YgJo911rAyiYXq8Q7z1J0s02JRATBNX_4NcI1CFTRdW66YFZJK9igZvlO5euxBT-Jg5n_stX/s1100/7+growth+on+rotted+logs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="825" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_tGv51UVNY045-zB_V_B0C-hx_zvbaNaidT45rAFWBUacUivmzRfsrcovN5NN-66gngq6YgJo911rAyiYXq8Q7z1J0s02JRATBNX_4NcI1CFTRdW66YFZJK9igZvlO5euxBT-Jg5n_stX/w300-h400/7+growth+on+rotted+logs.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Over a long period of time I've seen an old pile of logs become more and more part of the forest floor, covered with mosses and lichen, small plants, and young trees; it is now a mound of new green growth, softened in outline.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkR_RLGDdvP6wN04HH0LKqx_WZxoNPNuZ8r1DUel03T1iNmHAA1fLt-NHryUz5dkNGRHipR7Jo0lhsUAqvsqjIm2tJBKPS_Jnzoiw-NmQLi_FPPeHmgllxQE_L805NacHH_IDcPDBngxMv/s1100/8+logs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="889" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkR_RLGDdvP6wN04HH0LKqx_WZxoNPNuZ8r1DUel03T1iNmHAA1fLt-NHryUz5dkNGRHipR7Jo0lhsUAqvsqjIm2tJBKPS_Jnzoiw-NmQLi_FPPeHmgllxQE_L805NacHH_IDcPDBngxMv/w324-h400/8+logs.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The plant-covered pile of logs above began just like this one, and I expect that in several years these bare dead logs will be covered with plant life.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3QB_BPLUH1qCOf4rbQNMhE7NCQYuoEg7uR4T7VsoPPht7NqQer4zc9RReRJTiKYQI4tTb_3tnnzzOQyboZWXIttZCxqlDbH9KEW1ap3-f4SGbRV5HocL8mt-OVrADcX_7Sf78pydrxFH/s1100/9+tree+stump.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="968" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3QB_BPLUH1qCOf4rbQNMhE7NCQYuoEg7uR4T7VsoPPht7NqQer4zc9RReRJTiKYQI4tTb_3tnnzzOQyboZWXIttZCxqlDbH9KEW1ap3-f4SGbRV5HocL8mt-OVrADcX_7Sf78pydrxFH/w353-h400/9+tree+stump.jpg" width="353" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Decaying tree stumps are also hospitable to new plants, which create a lively mix of greens, and rich textures.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCqtrogWkofui5jWN7kgw2VfOE-AAuEZPHPBO38MvEsnGXh1tm9eWwk0957qgv7O2xqqg0xCM8a71TLHlt0O6SxHoa6BCg8ypRQ32URi_hWpMqRMcwjmCOHo_oXXcVGqJFoah8Rwvxu64/s1200/10+shelf+mushrooms.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="1200" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCqtrogWkofui5jWN7kgw2VfOE-AAuEZPHPBO38MvEsnGXh1tm9eWwk0957qgv7O2xqqg0xCM8a71TLHlt0O6SxHoa6BCg8ypRQ32URi_hWpMqRMcwjmCOHo_oXXcVGqJFoah8Rwvxu64/w400-h318/10+shelf+mushrooms.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Many mushrooms grow on dead wood, such as these hemlock varnish shelf mushrooms brightening a tree stump. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIoxdrKRNxbC0X35SyMkmcp_wfk9IBeO8SYfaaiN_dw9SjgEQbI6BrLoW5irrl4oIpFust1U6Lm4MXSYF1EZiMETwRznu8Odofx9WT6eY90LH0oVzwljFbIxotZ7YOFlh07QJhDFthkJn/s1100/11+woodpecker+holes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="893" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIoxdrKRNxbC0X35SyMkmcp_wfk9IBeO8SYfaaiN_dw9SjgEQbI6BrLoW5irrl4oIpFust1U6Lm4MXSYF1EZiMETwRznu8Odofx9WT6eY90LH0oVzwljFbIxotZ7YOFlh07QJhDFthkJn/w325-h400/11+woodpecker+holes.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><br /><p>Decaying trees support more than other members of the plant family, and fungi: when I see wood chips scattered over the forest floor, I look for the telltale holes made by pileated woodpeckers drilling for insects. I've often heard the loud rat-a-tat-tat of these large birds hammering in the woods.</p><p>This cycle of life to decay to new life reminds me of John Cage's words: </p><p></p><blockquote>The world, the real is not an object. It is a process. </blockquote><p> </p><p></p></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-64307078105816427612021-05-06T09:19:00.002-04:002021-05-06T09:19:44.205-04:00The Shapes of Things<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15dxqh27dIIHb3O3p5bBNzQxSljaLkC3ja9_UtAnU2Z7hoPzO2m66BT2EC18Jcu59MXljxdFz7jSjZEjaztaRC7dlngOo3WfrHZhdl9Oncc8bjEitqDJbcIQGGg1e5DCSu_nG-OKgoBUZ/s1000/lap+table.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="847" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15dxqh27dIIHb3O3p5bBNzQxSljaLkC3ja9_UtAnU2Z7hoPzO2m66BT2EC18Jcu59MXljxdFz7jSjZEjaztaRC7dlngOo3WfrHZhdl9Oncc8bjEitqDJbcIQGGg1e5DCSu_nG-OKgoBUZ/w339-h400/lap+table.jpg" width="339" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Sometimes it happens that an ordinary object lying about the house will nudge me to open my eyes and notice things I hadn't seen before. "Seen" is the wrong word: I saw them, but they failed to impress on my conscious mind as something especially beautiful. As Henry Miller put it: </p><p></p><blockquote>The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.</blockquote><p></p><div style="text-align: left;">This old lap table was leaning against a wall, waiting to be put away, when I saw that lovely curve against the straight line of the outer wall, and the simple elegance of the rounded legs; and the circle, on a piece of wood that looks like it dropped from its original position, giving a sense of time passed. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6AbR7RgM0Q8jU1NEgleNRUGHyLParc8jKHPcyAceAf_-u5fgedzLlnLyfVjPPOiMOdSnvDMrHDJyMcPzuqBV4s5IBMdP8ic2FhrLG_l3vAYeyTFqZHzV3AcljJZJ_4fuFhNpQUgESdgh/s1000/dresser+leg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="739" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6AbR7RgM0Q8jU1NEgleNRUGHyLParc8jKHPcyAceAf_-u5fgedzLlnLyfVjPPOiMOdSnvDMrHDJyMcPzuqBV4s5IBMdP8ic2FhrLG_l3vAYeyTFqZHzV3AcljJZJ_4fuFhNpQUgESdgh/w295-h400/dresser+leg.jpg" width="295" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;">I then photographed some legs on old pieces of furniture, as on this dresser. The front legs are complex and inventive in form, curving in and out, in gentle and sharp lines. You can see a glimpse of the rear leg, which is much simpler in design. </p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6lr70fKOHcDghEMAUUI2AneX1wwKKhgLX7PD1QxfQ8HZ_EkU2rnJjNIq1nuKVF6Odd7OudYdpgpLIiBWuwacncAOW7S5INlbz7QcBPDX0l56b80Rf1eMW-5nquE_40O8g3cK__hG6jEh/s1000/table+leg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="764" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6lr70fKOHcDghEMAUUI2AneX1wwKKhgLX7PD1QxfQ8HZ_EkU2rnJjNIq1nuKVF6Odd7OudYdpgpLIiBWuwacncAOW7S5INlbz7QcBPDX0l56b80Rf1eMW-5nquE_40O8g3cK__hG6jEh/w305-h400/table+leg.jpg" width="305" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The repetitive pattern of the legs of my bedside table remind me of nothing more than of Brancusi's Endless Column, in miniature: </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRx2B-YQKCNXV4Vs-1DlVuxcKa1AJ0kgMDLMSOCmkejEHrXVPkb2lMK4PDKvO8YOAYjw7WR5MBQHkvjDIuUw15lGVi15Vu1YVd6InZpoSPuNQPWw23cy4ZWCIgaiZgOSmQhJyEcsmREP4e/s2048/coloana_infinita_vedere_spre_vest.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRx2B-YQKCNXV4Vs-1DlVuxcKa1AJ0kgMDLMSOCmkejEHrXVPkb2lMK4PDKvO8YOAYjw7WR5MBQHkvjDIuUw15lGVi15Vu1YVd6InZpoSPuNQPWw23cy4ZWCIgaiZgOSmQhJyEcsmREP4e/w640-h480/coloana_infinita_vedere_spre_vest.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1EUqy-hc_gLe-dEn5xflBbcYUx_SNpeZyAiBn8j0HbyooZBmXYj0QqSFxUmyjRNoJBkCayRHVbje0QVFZq1msVtqNXp2K8ytm2PRXDHUEwohrItfZ2LgGaJoMYdNF91vRO6zgwfHorb7/s1200/fan.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1200" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1EUqy-hc_gLe-dEn5xflBbcYUx_SNpeZyAiBn8j0HbyooZBmXYj0QqSFxUmyjRNoJBkCayRHVbje0QVFZq1msVtqNXp2K8ytm2PRXDHUEwohrItfZ2LgGaJoMYdNF91vRO6zgwfHorb7/w400-h310/fan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>An old fan with rubber blades has grace and elegance in its design.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lest you think that it's only old objects that attract my interest, here are two functional forms attached to the outside of my house that I find quite beautiful in their shapes and lines:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCetPZjXv02BVGe9Aus3QI1tadlpjzm4kFZZP2JaBm0OOmMgInqzV06qB_f7imnSfFWagpRo9PnVRaEVw5GdvFvlQC3LlD4a-Sa4gbkWYxFE8A9D1FzWVKYPkGJc7a2QxpKCZVMHhvK2Zw/s1100/electric+box.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="825" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCetPZjXv02BVGe9Aus3QI1tadlpjzm4kFZZP2JaBm0OOmMgInqzV06qB_f7imnSfFWagpRo9PnVRaEVw5GdvFvlQC3LlD4a-Sa4gbkWYxFE8A9D1FzWVKYPkGJc7a2QxpKCZVMHhvK2Zw/w300-h400/electric+box.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>This metal box has an appearance of a torso, with heavy rounded legs.<div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiW9gLbLnUIyX0IwlO9b0DKgqxbWv0NlfaWltYJLrD_VIhUkbMlbe_95z7Hk4UM6yj5G4uAAGSlsfQiDmdny9oApDbm6JOdvlovuBo95AaFYStxRoNoULNj1n6J6ZQC2UM7_Xdfahx-3B/s1200/gas+connector.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1200" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiW9gLbLnUIyX0IwlO9b0DKgqxbWv0NlfaWltYJLrD_VIhUkbMlbe_95z7Hk4UM6yj5G4uAAGSlsfQiDmdny9oApDbm6JOdvlovuBo95AaFYStxRoNoULNj1n6J6ZQC2UM7_Xdfahx-3B/w400-h355/gas+connector.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A fluid line of copper tubing enhances a circular form whose copper screws echo the color of the curved pipe. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpEYlooOhOGp97s6LiEMbejR-SCGcHY810nqSd0P3nWDP4klrqRAnMJuexNzWfkI_BABwKlEtiwmHQcNDHEBHjldBOyX2LYmJl-jcLsU-GObZ_0X1gUkJiOV3IJCCOFldhwp_RmSkfgxr/s1500/Curves+small.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpEYlooOhOGp97s6LiEMbejR-SCGcHY810nqSd0P3nWDP4klrqRAnMJuexNzWfkI_BABwKlEtiwmHQcNDHEBHjldBOyX2LYmJl-jcLsU-GObZ_0X1gUkJiOV3IJCCOFldhwp_RmSkfgxr/w400-h300/Curves+small.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>And of course, there are the contemporary machines that provide subject matter for my paintings, drawings, and relief sculpture. In agricultural equipment I find a wealth of unusual shapes, with surprising relationships of color, line, volume, and light. When I go out to look for motifs, it is like a treasure hunt, full of unforseen results. I would like to share John Cage's quote about the woods, because it resonates for me in my trips to farms:</div><div><blockquote>One shouldn't go to the woods looking for something, but rather to see what is there.</blockquote></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-63594504185263132752021-04-13T15:30:00.002-04:002021-04-13T18:12:55.856-04:00Artists and Critics<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_CFmtTUHSlSP0H-6v150e9Nq4j0TQ-QAYhTWqZJHJmv1lufGJKEC6m9pBknNWcyFwbQwpBWraxbQF8wXrxfkggR_U9-H6ma-ylITI5cFuvqf6BSoP_-NhdJNBRbIDCppxbv11pX8Q3Yz/s569/%2522Well%252C+if+you+look+very+closely%252C+you+might+end+up+finding+some+quality.+The+color+seems+to+be+good.%2522.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_CFmtTUHSlSP0H-6v150e9Nq4j0TQ-QAYhTWqZJHJmv1lufGJKEC6m9pBknNWcyFwbQwpBWraxbQF8wXrxfkggR_U9-H6ma-ylITI5cFuvqf6BSoP_-NhdJNBRbIDCppxbv11pX8Q3Yz/w315-h400/%2522Well%252C+if+you+look+very+closely%252C+you+might+end+up+finding+some+quality.+The+color+seems+to+be+good.%2522.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honoré Daumier, "Well, if you look very closely you might ending finding some quality; the color seems to be good."<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p>In <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Frémon" target="_blank">Jean Frémon</a>'s marvelous little book, <i><a href="https://www.blacksquareeditions.org/product-page/the-paradoxes-of-robert-ryman-by-jean-frémon" target="_blank">The Paradoxes of Robert Ryman</a></i>, he writes almost apologetically about his role as a writer on art:</p><div><blockquote>All of us who write on art or artists have an extreme presumptuousness. We hold forth on the ins and outs, means and ends, and in reality we know nothing; nothing of what it is to truly take, on the end of a brush, the color from a palette and put it on a panel. We dissect thoughts while the painter searches for the form. Thought is within it and cannot be formulated in words. The thought of a painting is not discursive. It matters to the greatest degree and at the same time is on no consequence. It is everything, but it is nothing. It is there. In any case. Before and after. The only thing that matters is the form that it takes here and now: a little bit of white pigment taken up the this palette, on the end of a brush, and set down on that surface. </blockquote></div><div>In this modest declaration, Frémon shows himself to be a most sensitive and thoughtful writer. He has so many insightful things to say in this book that go beyond referencing just Ryman, such as:</div><div></div><blockquote><div>Miro, Rothko, Ryman....deepened their thought in order to enlarge our understanding of the work of art, and our perception of the world. They do it not as historians or as sociologists but as artists; the proposition that they advance is not along the lines of semiotic analysis or chemical experiment; it is an object, an unexpected object, even if all the steps of its production have been carefully prepared, an object with no other purpose than itself, made to be seen, simple, and whose mystery holds us attentive, whose mystery touches us. </div><div> </div><div>This quality, obviousness and mystery, is what one speaks of the least when one speaks of a painting, because it is that whereof one cannot speaki. Thus, it is necessary to fall silent. Wittgenstein would say, Fall silent and look.</div></blockquote><div></div><div>Frémon has not fallen silent, for which I am grateful because he's a wonderful writer. Artists cannot fall totally silent either, not about their own work or that of others. I've long believed that it is a good thing to be somewhat articulate about one's own work, to think about it as clearly as possible, as it allows us to move forward intelligently. But as the maker of the work, we can't ever have a new eye to see it in a different way.</div><div><br /></div><div>Many years ago I was at a lecture given by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucy_R._Lippard" target="_blank">Lucy Lippard</a>, and one thing that she said has stayed with me because it is so important: she believed that the role of the critic was to be a "sympathetic observer". The critic can look at the art object and find connections, explore meanings of both form and content, respond in an open and intelligent way to what they are seeing; this enlarges our understanding. Over my long career I've been lucky to have had many reviews in which the writer was certainly sympathetic, and observant, pointing things out in my work that I hadn't thought of. Having the physical object of a painting translated into poetic prose is a delight and a gift. I did once get a nasty negative review, almost 40 years ago, and in the NY Times. I was a young artist and it crushed me (I did get other laudatory reviews in that paper). I now wonder what the point was of writing something so mean spirited? I don't read these kinds of blistering reviews any more, or perhaps I'm just not aware of them. It seems to me that writers on art have adopted Lippard's credo and have provided us with a rich and informative range of texts, and the arts are definitely better for it. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-78517499161139828322021-04-06T16:04:00.000-04:002021-04-06T16:04:17.190-04:00Regret: Bertrand Tavernier's "A Sunday in the Country"<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLRWCe8LQZxtGfazq8ucDXNAIrJFom3WAr5oex81drjs7GX-BH_26xqBEMr0gLxXxdUqYKoi6mIoOEbqja4LWDo0bMzPzz6S37tUnJnosIESa0uDmE3ttZFcXNynIwSXHmdvE_iZ_MIoG/s600/EB20030511REVIEWS08305110301AR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="600" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLRWCe8LQZxtGfazq8ucDXNAIrJFom3WAr5oex81drjs7GX-BH_26xqBEMr0gLxXxdUqYKoi6mIoOEbqja4LWDo0bMzPzz6S37tUnJnosIESa0uDmE3ttZFcXNynIwSXHmdvE_iZ_MIoG/w400-h238/EB20030511REVIEWS08305110301AR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>On a lovely Sunday morning in 1912, the elderly artist Monsieur Ladmiral prepares for a visit from his son and family. We see that M. Ladmiral must be a successful painter: his house in a country setting near Paris is large and beautiful, his studio situated in the garden is spacious and elegant. It is evident from the paintings hanging in the house and studio that he is a very traditional painter, conservative in style; the upheavals in art of the late 19th century passed him by. </p><p>The sense of life not being fully lived pervades this poignant film. Ladmiral's reserved middle-aged son Gonzague visits regularly, bringing his straight-laced wife and three children. At one point Gonzague wonders if he should have pursued painting when he was young; but perhaps he wouldn't be as good as his father, or, he would compete with him. Ladmiral also seems a bit disappointed in his son, a feeling that is thrown into vivid contrast with the unexpected arrival, via motor car, of his beloved daughter Irene. We can see that he adores her brilliant free spirit, her unconventionality, her need to liven things up. She is the only one whose opinion about his work he seeks, and fears. In the studio, she disparages a painting in process on the easel as yet another "corner of the studio" painting; how dull, how ordinary.</p><p>. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Myp95dW87nYQbToYF_qdNyrqqLJ-hjW3w6uqn60WbMo9rdggy7LxiZNDRpiughaS8KdKqgFYrKgydxY7_d92-ef-8ZkBQDMRFy-za9AptPhvixv2e4C-p_M423WhTvQfmoCZ4WeucY0m/s1300/Screen+Shot+2021-04-03+at+3.47.33+PM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="965" data-original-width="1300" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Myp95dW87nYQbToYF_qdNyrqqLJ-hjW3w6uqn60WbMo9rdggy7LxiZNDRpiughaS8KdKqgFYrKgydxY7_d92-ef-8ZkBQDMRFy-za9AptPhvixv2e4C-p_M423WhTvQfmoCZ4WeucY0m/w400-h297/Screen+Shot+2021-04-03+at+3.47.33+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Dance at the Moulin de la Galette, 1876</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Then she whisks her beloved father away in the motor, to a café near a river, where there is dancing. For me this scene is the heart of the film, where Tavernier calls up the spirit of Renoir. And here is where father and daughter have a candid talk about his work. Irene says to him, pointing to the dancers, "That's what you should have painted". His response is beautifully thoughtful, and relevant, I believe, to choices all artists make: </p><p></p><blockquote>I painted the way I was taught. I believed my teachers: to respect the traditional rules, maybe a bit too much. I saw originality in others' work. Cézanne's major exhibition in '96 or '97 was interesting, but I thought "Where can that lead me", like van Gogh's work. I'd singled him out. I spent a summer painting in Arles. Perhaps I lacked courage. Some years ago, I considered changing my style. I thought about it seriously, but it hurt your mother that I was still groping at that age. I'd just been decorated; our future was assured. If I'd imitated what was original in other painters––Monet, Caillebotte, Renoir––I'd have been even less original. I'd have lost my own special melody; at least it was mine. I painted as I felt, with honesty. If I didn't achieve more, I at least glimpsed what I could have done. </blockquote><p>Then he recounts his dream about Moses, who saw the Promised Land, so could die without regret. Irene listens to his passionate, yet hesitant words with attentive love. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypym099iEHQ46mUbkBYG3gpWSdzIENwI5S_ZKhM8zxH_DayCOFKLKfr2DfGMlmBQzLJ4qONpn6OI1gwFhpuZztWXYFqUhA7aNc-iEU3uU_d8a0H3UclXTOZx5AUXRN1ziM_X3fAgloTE9/s700/a-sunday-in-the-country.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="700" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypym099iEHQ46mUbkBYG3gpWSdzIENwI5S_ZKhM8zxH_DayCOFKLKfr2DfGMlmBQzLJ4qONpn6OI1gwFhpuZztWXYFqUhA7aNc-iEU3uU_d8a0H3UclXTOZx5AUXRN1ziM_X3fAgloTE9/w400-h240/a-sunday-in-the-country.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>When all his guests have gone, M. Ladmiral sits alone in the studio. Although his talk with Irene made it sound as though he had no regrets, the expression on his face––he is sensitively portrayed by Louis Ducreux––reveals uncertainty. He removes the unfinished painting of the studio corner from the easel and turns it against the wall. He places a smaller blank canvas on the easel, which he turns so he can look at it from the studio couch. The camera lingers on his hands, moving as though seeking answers. This scene was so touching, even heartbreaking. Although he spoke of having no regrets, he seems full of self-doubt.</p><p>I loved this about <i>A Sunday in the Country</i>: it wasn't only sensitive to family relations, but also astute in its portrayal of an artist's questioning of their work. I wonder if artists reading this have felt that. I certainly have: that sudden crushing sense of bewilderment, the "what am I doing?", the ground sliding out from under my feet. We go on, as best as we know how. </p><p><br /></p><p></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-33351825347402532952021-04-01T16:50:00.008-04:002021-04-01T16:55:25.573-04:00Matzoh, Tradition and Commemoration <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM51ey8bCzZz9DXddYuOF4My3OP4duxMW42HO1jd0_guDEI9gKAGZTZfWUMMd0h3Fb1PQdsY6PYSU6foZ2WxnUvqm-BqgrZnxxYhySaiuCHlvngi_m_ghPGVvdBPofvzcUxQUD-ov98Ryj/s1200/matzoh.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM51ey8bCzZz9DXddYuOF4My3OP4duxMW42HO1jd0_guDEI9gKAGZTZfWUMMd0h3Fb1PQdsY6PYSU6foZ2WxnUvqm-BqgrZnxxYhySaiuCHlvngi_m_ghPGVvdBPofvzcUxQUD-ov98Ryj/w400-h300/matzoh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>There are many foods that I eat in season––asparagus in the spring, tomatoes in summer, brussels sprouts in the fall––but only Passover matzoh is so rich in associations. The Jewish holiday of <a href="https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/passover-history-and-overview" target="_blank">Passover</a> commemorates the Exodus from Egypt, where Jews were enslaved for 400 years. Because they didn't have time to make raised bread in leaving Egypt, their bread was unleavened, so unleavened matzoh became a ritual food during the 8 days of Passover. For me it's also a tie to family, to our holiday traditions. I love the large family seders, sadly missed the past two years because of Covid. <div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_UunGptu1I7odZ6X5ATn3kBAEoFD2un7IO9GwdCdWqUw8NKV6FZoJZYyRmwg7QOhkkT2n7uwlMutcS2dOETasfF3zv_p5Eoaw9mdO5b1hmvxMdK1q_xZk-eQ7vmwJbQbu935Nnm1BOgb/s1200/matzoh+cereal.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="1200" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_UunGptu1I7odZ6X5ATn3kBAEoFD2un7IO9GwdCdWqUw8NKV6FZoJZYyRmwg7QOhkkT2n7uwlMutcS2dOETasfF3zv_p5Eoaw9mdO5b1hmvxMdK1q_xZk-eQ7vmwJbQbu935Nnm1BOgb/w400-h309/matzoh+cereal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I look forward to my breakfasts of matzoh cereal, invented by my father (or are there any other people out there who make this?) I remember him sitting at the breakfast table, chopping at his cereal. Just crumble two matzohs into a bowl, sprinkle generously with sugar, and pour on plenty of milk. My brother informs me that he has two bowls of this every morning, with lots of sugar. Not very nutritious, but good nonetheless. This is food as remembrance.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhME3ZrI11V3An_hFCUjPpPhGUzHId4lZzxrbEHTVYCPdMLDceJspN_zSHKb9gZcQ83JA-mW6fEAMwKyN69JhbjdZpR8akJZ0Fi1IuLz3d8meyEkLRmOILQIkXvxhi8ev2fS555XMCPt_N1/s1200/matzoh+with+haroseth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhME3ZrI11V3An_hFCUjPpPhGUzHId4lZzxrbEHTVYCPdMLDceJspN_zSHKb9gZcQ83JA-mW6fEAMwKyN69JhbjdZpR8akJZ0Fi1IuLz3d8meyEkLRmOILQIkXvxhi8ev2fS555XMCPt_N1/w400-h300/matzoh+with+haroseth.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Another commemorative food eaten for the Passover seder is Haroseth, symbolic of the mortar that the Israelis enslaved in Egypt used in buildings for the Pharaoh. In my Sephardic community, we make it with dates rather than apples. For me it's a treat spread on matzoh, and is quite simple to make; it can also be thought of as date butter: </div><div>Soak one pound of dates (I use medjool dates) in 1 1/2 cups of water for 1 hour. Bring to a boil and simmer for about 45 minutes until soft and breaking down. Drain the dates; when cool you can slip off their skins, then process them until smooth in a food processor.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVldpEfAfB6s1vo1kC7jIk6FXwElvYptGDlyJTXwWYAYdAszRdkV0xwUzdTDJqigyVD2AZN58Lr6XkDGYy7BVQgkgXS5QT2_uKnEAfefS7_k_rhhTSDxIxbpJK4qW9SavAL1-DxUOjqdu/s1200/matzoh+brie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="1200" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiVldpEfAfB6s1vo1kC7jIk6FXwElvYptGDlyJTXwWYAYdAszRdkV0xwUzdTDJqigyVD2AZN58Lr6XkDGYy7BVQgkgXS5QT2_uKnEAfefS7_k_rhhTSDxIxbpJK4qW9SavAL1-DxUOjqdu/w400-h333/matzoh+brie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My final Passover matzoh treat is matzoh brie––a kind of fritter––another very simple recipe. </div><div>Run cool water over two matzohs until they soften, then crumble them into a bowl. Beat with two eggs and a little salt. Shallow fry them with vegetable oil, butter, or a combination of the two; I use oil. Top with something nice: I like the tart-sweet flavor of <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/05/rhubarb-jam.html" target="_blank">rhubarb jam</a> on mine. You can also add a little grated onion for a savory fritter. </div><div><br /></div><div>Having food traditions that tie us to history and to family add richness to life. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><span><a name='more'></a></span></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-51260077495902008572021-03-30T16:47:00.005-04:002021-03-30T20:39:16.232-04:00In the Early Spring Vegetable Garden<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2D85zA_kYizdtMfvBo23bPXbSxKSWkC8vF5sKdxeyTyZUZNJuHx1zzMQ5cwQF43ywu0HAZaVsdO81_OyKdTGVC0ipylAPF751zvyJNMOEhIhYzexLdZb3I7LUtGgtpLCw-Jli9BDwFxK/s1200/1+egyptian+onions.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1200" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2D85zA_kYizdtMfvBo23bPXbSxKSWkC8vF5sKdxeyTyZUZNJuHx1zzMQ5cwQF43ywu0HAZaVsdO81_OyKdTGVC0ipylAPF751zvyJNMOEhIhYzexLdZb3I7LUtGgtpLCw-Jli9BDwFxK/w400-h330/1+egyptian+onions.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Egyptian Onions, aka Walking Onions</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>I love seasons: with each change comes the excitement of the new. Even though spring is the same year after year, it feels as though it's never happened before. As soon as the garden is dry enough to walk through without sinking into mud, my first chore is to go out with a bucket of small stakes and a tape measure and mark out the rows. I am thrilled to watch the new growth, and especially gratifying with food crops. One of the first plants I can harvest are Egyptian onions, which I snip and add to salads and other dishes. Today I added some to my lunchtime coleslaw, using a cabbage that I harvested last fall. </p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QyYNeZLUcWymZX7_5CRoqwxGHTh9brxL_keVJjIWrL6d-rn4e5STmj8h8WFR68aTiIxCfFEh27iytwKQ-G28yEugI9W74u_SGGCKvcVYpwZb-ggU3-QaMymWVwecGe6w1IsMc7xINlTf/s1200/2+garlic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="878" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-QyYNeZLUcWymZX7_5CRoqwxGHTh9brxL_keVJjIWrL6d-rn4e5STmj8h8WFR68aTiIxCfFEh27iytwKQ-G28yEugI9W74u_SGGCKvcVYpwZb-ggU3-QaMymWVwecGe6w1IsMc7xINlTf/w293-h400/2+garlic.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garlic</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Garlic bulbs are planted in the fall, and I cover them with a hay mulch. In early spring, I gently move aside the mulch to see if the shoots have emerged. It's an announcement of the start of garden season when those green leaves rise up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxumoUo812zi-hdVL0hHuh42W-Ht-pOr4GdKk0oC8hvSVRcOOnqKpBZOpob7k_D_DwkbdyrWJ6JTtjwK6KRidRaEhiiaPtZDn5mD8NeCA4o-lDgJENAckQ9wRamhPPdCatTgttiHaOV-0/s1200/4+sorrel.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1200" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBxumoUo812zi-hdVL0hHuh42W-Ht-pOr4GdKk0oC8hvSVRcOOnqKpBZOpob7k_D_DwkbdyrWJ6JTtjwK6KRidRaEhiiaPtZDn5mD8NeCA4o-lDgJENAckQ9wRamhPPdCatTgttiHaOV-0/w400-h313/4+sorrel.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorrel</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The tiny leaves of sorrel have begun to grow. There are several recipes that I love that use sorrel; I'm fond of its tart flavor. There's a <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/05/sorrel-onion-tart.html" target="_blank">sorrel/onion tart</a>, <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2012/06/cream-of-sorrel-soup.html" target="_blank">cream of sorrel soup</a>, <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/04/potato-sorrel-soup.html" target="_blank">potato-sorrel soup</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3spLyEN_EnVSx6_uRhyTXsGVMu75yLHWhDSLDXZJGBs4DfqekGXiKYM6AqhN6Vb0mnq2irt4S2gqBasZR6mNQVmr0p1YcwYYYtxyxoc2jb47FMKh70T9tfI9yChGXsg0M7nc28gxBqnmz/s1200/5+chives.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1200" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3spLyEN_EnVSx6_uRhyTXsGVMu75yLHWhDSLDXZJGBs4DfqekGXiKYM6AqhN6Vb0mnq2irt4S2gqBasZR6mNQVmr0p1YcwYYYtxyxoc2jb47FMKh70T9tfI9yChGXsg0M7nc28gxBqnmz/w400-h318/5+chives.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chives</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chives are another handy herb to have in the garden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLh1oNfn1nsPTS3KdeVuCIqitgK_jnw3b2267uUTWcWEG8sKWtDqgeM1kJtihdExM5oCoAx2MgEgBSN1D8WjQvIQEeN5zWbtVSctURKD18SyA0c38iG6Q8qkM9TC65tSX3ns7wrVmItHQ/s1200/6+cold+frame.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="1200" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWLh1oNfn1nsPTS3KdeVuCIqitgK_jnw3b2267uUTWcWEG8sKWtDqgeM1kJtihdExM5oCoAx2MgEgBSN1D8WjQvIQEeN5zWbtVSctURKD18SyA0c38iG6Q8qkM9TC65tSX3ns7wrVmItHQ/w400-h272/6+cold+frame.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cold Frame</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My hand-made cold frame is rather rickety and crude, but it does the job asked of it. When the soil dries enough to plant, my first sowing of seed is arugula and lettuce in the cold frame. They are very hardy, and the structure keeps it warmer inside to encourage growth during these cool days.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6OziOU0ZydpLe4s0OtWR_8FQnYUQR7WG9PpSDCuIB1YjQThbNQKmbbrGvstZM0kObOAIWujOY8HYXgxCrXbLL8Yne7ENHtCJ1SqhizSoqiLTXvnnBZ04NCkF_jd0Oiwbl1NyNWk-VVnM/s1200/7arugula+seedlings.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="1200" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6OziOU0ZydpLe4s0OtWR_8FQnYUQR7WG9PpSDCuIB1YjQThbNQKmbbrGvstZM0kObOAIWujOY8HYXgxCrXbLL8Yne7ENHtCJ1SqhizSoqiLTXvnnBZ04NCkF_jd0Oiwbl1NyNWk-VVnM/w400-h303/7arugula+seedlings.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arugula seedlings</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And today I was so happy to see some tiny new arugula seedlings popping up, from a March 24th planting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouLLoDJeWfHgDY-qxuX-6b7MEq8VFt89DsZE1Rsh2ulYDeOvWS7aqALCvHtu1DGzzE3CJRMFqXW0S5siiJtKII83Owo_ggjUfALvrjP6P0v4L0xA0-hbZnnjBcpL_MPnE75vmBLL8AX5y/s1200/8+pea+stakes+2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="929" data-original-width="1200" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouLLoDJeWfHgDY-qxuX-6b7MEq8VFt89DsZE1Rsh2ulYDeOvWS7aqALCvHtu1DGzzE3CJRMFqXW0S5siiJtKII83Owo_ggjUfALvrjP6P0v4L0xA0-hbZnnjBcpL_MPnE75vmBLL8AX5y/w400-h310/8+pea+stakes+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pea Stakes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm getting ready to plant peas: the stakes are placed, and next I'll put up the fencing, for which I use chicken wire. The three taller stakes––with added height from taped-on broom handles––are for snap peas, which are vigorous climbersl. I love the description for planting peas and spinach: "as soon as the ground can be worked". A handful of soil, squeezed between the fingers, should break apart when your hand is opened and not stick together in a muddy clump. A too-wet soil will rot the seeds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTgowolxn7qmnjo7PW2HiGoA03niV1Z3IRsItkukIJck8Sfn8mD13R6fZ3pxBFeWsKv6t8pioXhoFKCC443ZdYeHRhA8mO811JPOUr4rYAwCfxEAtKF0l7qj7EMAMiNglo37bQ43K5Dcx/s1200/9+rhubarb+emerging.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="1200" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioTgowolxn7qmnjo7PW2HiGoA03niV1Z3IRsItkukIJck8Sfn8mD13R6fZ3pxBFeWsKv6t8pioXhoFKCC443ZdYeHRhA8mO811JPOUr4rYAwCfxEAtKF0l7qj7EMAMiNglo37bQ43K5Dcx/w400-h333/9+rhubarb+emerging.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rhubarb</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Rhubarb plants grow to an enormous size so are situated outside the perimeter of the garden. Although we treat rhubarb as a fruit, it's actually a vegetable, so is appropriately included in this post. What I most love to make with <a href="https://altoonsultan.blogspot.com/2010/05/rhubarb-jam.html" target="_blank">rhubarb is jam</a>, deliciously tart and sweet. </p><p>The first spring vegetable that will appear will be perennial asparagus, but I have to be patient until early to mid May before that tasty treat appears. I have to admit that I've let my flower gardens go to rack and ruin, letting the plants fight it out with the weeds, but my vegetable garden gives me such deep satisfaction that I hope I never have to give it up. </p><p><br /></p>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-83555813164113719282021-03-27T17:33:00.000-04:002021-03-27T17:33:58.395-04:00A Renewal<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaenBpPZalUz64GceE4jhp7xO7-6eF7uJyB3F20XoeRmktgkZPG8N3gy4r3u_uaAq1avvj2YKIbn4MTliAwdgDbzzhFxzWuHApgBoNE9iq118WbU7PVy2uTpKWZ2fSWuYHoxQmumsjhr7/s1200/plants+under+water.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="1200" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaenBpPZalUz64GceE4jhp7xO7-6eF7uJyB3F20XoeRmktgkZPG8N3gy4r3u_uaAq1avvj2YKIbn4MTliAwdgDbzzhFxzWuHApgBoNE9iq118WbU7PVy2uTpKWZ2fSWuYHoxQmumsjhr7/w400-h319/plants+under+water.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It's been several years since I've posted on this blog, but some reading I've been doing lately has got me thinking that I might enjoy writing again. It's early spring here in northern Vermont, the ice is receding from the edges of the pond, green leaves are visible under the shallow pond water: a time to start afresh. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The poems of <a href="https://www.ndbooks.com/book/the-complete-works-of-alberto-caeiro/" target="_blank">Alberto Caeiro</a>, a heteronym of <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/fernando-pessoa" target="_blank">Fernando Pessoa</a> are making me aware again of the value of looking closely at the world around me: </span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The astonishing reality of things</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Is my daily discovery.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Each thing is what it is,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And it's hard to explain to someone how much joy this gives me,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And how much that joy suffices me. </span></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And</span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In my gaze, everything is clear as a sunflower,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I'm in the habit of going for walks along the roads,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Looking to the right and to the left,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And now and then looking back...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And what I see at each moment Is something I've never seen before,</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And I'm very good at that...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I know how to feel the profound astonishment </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A child would feel if, on being born, </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He realized that he truly had been born...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I feel newborn with every moment</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">To the complete newness of the world...</span></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Caeiro asks us to look, to truly see, with no preconceptions, no thought. I've also been reading several modernist French writers, such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Frémon" target="_blank">Jean Frémon</a>, <a href="https://www.blacksquareeditions.org/product-page/georges-braque-a-methodical-adventure-by-pierre-reverdy" target="_blank">Pierre Reverdy</a>, <a href="https://www.wavepoetry.com/products/new-exercises" target="_blank">Franck André Jamme</a>, and <a href="https://frenchculture.org/books-and-ideas/12960-remembering-philippe-jaccottet" target="_blank">Philippe Jaccottet</a> whose prose styles are inspiring. It is Jaccottet's <i>Seedtime, </i>selections from his notebooks,<i> </i>that also made me think about making notebook-like entries in my blog, along with photographs. Although the blog is titled <i>Studio and Garden, </i>I don't think I'll post my artwork here, but will leave that to Facebook and Instagram. But I do hope to write about art that I see in museums and galleries, once I'm back to visiting those wonderful, much-missed places.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwi_luMsmfXs3_YvgRdl0bSV5u5g12ZSNhHcHI0BYu2aAtT6vD8nZFlRFS1Vx5WzPlKbEErrdkOqg6C2u8B-RsXCW56Z0d7xVDSZNHRxE32LltN3hO5WxNhnaSUgxirI9GDpQ_djWL9kSx/s1200/moss+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1200" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwi_luMsmfXs3_YvgRdl0bSV5u5g12ZSNhHcHI0BYu2aAtT6vD8nZFlRFS1Vx5WzPlKbEErrdkOqg6C2u8B-RsXCW56Z0d7xVDSZNHRxE32LltN3hO5WxNhnaSUgxirI9GDpQ_djWL9kSx/w400-h304/moss+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the woods, the mosses have been refreshed by yesterday's rain, and their intense greens can't be matched in the natural world. Their shapes vary, from tiny tree-like forms to soft cushiony shapes, some that make resting on a moss-covered rock inviting. </span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMoQr0mgcnH9zyQqQ0kFgPDsZhf9Y4EkA3X_LNQEI8dooJfE-aOHNnBfgPM6HBQdUTflncJkZOzW222wsUW5f5AxIWfr8GIyEJqiRnFOp9NDYNnRLIOFhE99yqpKb7OdhRtam6ZKaCqsx9/s1200/moss+1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1130" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMoQr0mgcnH9zyQqQ0kFgPDsZhf9Y4EkA3X_LNQEI8dooJfE-aOHNnBfgPM6HBQdUTflncJkZOzW222wsUW5f5AxIWfr8GIyEJqiRnFOp9NDYNnRLIOFhE99yqpKb7OdhRtam6ZKaCqsx9/w376-h400/moss+1.jpg" width="376" /></a></div></span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the first entry in <a href="https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/distributed/S/bo16861584.html" target="_blank">Jaccottet's <i>Seedtime</i></a>, he urges us towards a "complete forgetting": </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><blockquote>Attachment to the self renders life more opaque. One moment of complete forgetting and all the screens, one behind the other, become transparent so that you can perceive clarity to its very depths, as far as the eye can see, and at the same time everything becomes weightless. Thus does the soul truly become a bird. </blockquote></span><div><div><br /><br /><br /><p></p></div></div></div></div>Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-90473025104822844482017-01-09T15:50:00.000-05:002017-01-09T15:54:37.479-05:00At the Met: The Power of Simple Form<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dU5RTe3JzFakzA63mNIDGh3ALznhD9D8nmyV7-lGiwkpQ1ZjsWDKH551IaU-shBxOb6efcklgDB8wMViie_B709wCKbitkgKI3TtAf6VK2odk35_CllusQQ2p1XSWH-OV1idT_eHj-eF/s1600/1+shell+ring%252C+new+guinea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dU5RTe3JzFakzA63mNIDGh3ALznhD9D8nmyV7-lGiwkpQ1ZjsWDKH551IaU-shBxOb6efcklgDB8wMViie_B709wCKbitkgKI3TtAf6VK2odk35_CllusQQ2p1XSWH-OV1idT_eHj-eF/s400/1+shell+ring%252C+new+guinea.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Shell Ring ,(Yua)</i>, Abelam people, Papua New Guinea, 19th - early 20th century</div>
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What is it about beautiful objects that is so compelling? Often, when I have some time to wander the galleries of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I find myself looking at <i>things</i>, at artifacts and ancient sculpture; I visit old friends and discover new ones. I don't quite know why these often take precedence over spending time in the painting galleries; perhaps it's the satisfaction of seeing three dimensional things I can imagine running my hands over; perhaps it's their mystery. On my most recent trip I looked through the galleries of the <a href="http://metmuseum.org/art/collection#!?perPage=20&department=5&sortBy=Relevance&sortOrder=asc&offset=0&pageSize=0" target="_blank">Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas</a> and saw a few objects of stunning simplicity, where the purity of form spoke very strongly. The shell ring, made from the shell of a giant clam, is a form of wealth for the Abelam, and also a part of ceremonial life. The irregularities of the surface play against the perfection of its curving form.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFPH7Qfc-3G8Kf1X4UsrWRpVhf8DF7UOcCv2DipRNdY5_2llYaJ7qnnWSM5Bynj0IB438sv6OMnleSSo8S-I0e6pejVvCxC7B2_9Hx6yU9OXzb28psQZD5RvwTHSgyDyFeVJmATHKXzQk/s1600/2+bannerstones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFPH7Qfc-3G8Kf1X4UsrWRpVhf8DF7UOcCv2DipRNdY5_2llYaJ7qnnWSM5Bynj0IB438sv6OMnleSSo8S-I0e6pejVvCxC7B2_9Hx6yU9OXzb28psQZD5RvwTHSgyDyFeVJmATHKXzQk/s400/2+bannerstones.jpg" width="291" /></a></div>
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<i>Bannerstones</i>, archaic Illinois and Ohio, 3rd - 2nd millenium B.C.E. </div>
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These ancient carved stones were used as spear weights. I love seeing very old utilitarian objects that were crafted with exquisite care, each one an aesthetic object. The fact that thousands of years ago different peoples around the world sought beauty touches me deeply.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH__FTDjtMEKJHRxvkYwZBW1STGW3S6nHuFtJAZHZ2jWgWXMfAHRJN5hWbrmmi6ODygnN1tr8YEDlxeE1uMXEyd34ZCsU2_ZSKkhqIRIQy45sItzs5myxhYjG4kBqOx9UIY9xI6Qzdret-/s1600/3+lidded+bowl%252C+marquesas+islands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH__FTDjtMEKJHRxvkYwZBW1STGW3S6nHuFtJAZHZ2jWgWXMfAHRJN5hWbrmmi6ODygnN1tr8YEDlxeE1uMXEyd34ZCsU2_ZSKkhqIRIQy45sItzs5myxhYjG4kBqOx9UIY9xI6Qzdret-/s400/3+lidded+bowl%252C+marquesas+islands.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Lidded Bowl,</i> Marquesas Islands, 'Enana peoples, late 18th - early 19th century.</div>
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The simple shape of this bowl is described as bird-shaped in the Met's wall label. I hadn't recognized that, but I did respond to its graceful curves, which end in a stylized human head.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDnmdOBXXKcI746RAJ5DlMKhgpLZ-U1R50gqxHqeSfeCJjLTP3FeSOGCPrxt8xqC3Q_EjPnBDTMAgdLF_5xbmQlKs0dzvl7d_CBio7q_Gsh31C7tSfusmQ8h5uEHWfMFwCtsti2fmpdHG/s1600/4+float%253F.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhDnmdOBXXKcI746RAJ5DlMKhgpLZ-U1R50gqxHqeSfeCJjLTP3FeSOGCPrxt8xqC3Q_EjPnBDTMAgdLF_5xbmQlKs0dzvl7d_CBio7q_Gsh31C7tSfusmQ8h5uEHWfMFwCtsti2fmpdHG/s400/4+float%253F.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I'm not sure what this object is because I photographed the incorrect wall label; I'd thought it was a fishing float from the Solomon Islands. But whatever it is, the dark irregular sphere and its elegant decoration are wondrous.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNwOb2uEUMNCeb6sbH6vHr0auVQTwD50E-r7cmzAsz0QTWz-NOTceVJIksj4jqf0449WBgiBdskAbc34m4R0nSeaFmbz1PEXmjl488ny2BPWv8_V5hnYhBajbJaui8FtXoQl6r3767RDO/s1600/5+shield%252C+australia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNwOb2uEUMNCeb6sbH6vHr0auVQTwD50E-r7cmzAsz0QTWz-NOTceVJIksj4jqf0449WBgiBdskAbc34m4R0nSeaFmbz1PEXmjl488ny2BPWv8_V5hnYhBajbJaui8FtXoQl6r3767RDO/s400/5+shield%252C+australia.jpg" width="237" /></a></div>
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<i>Shield,</i> Australian aboriginal artist, mid to late 19th century</div>
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I love both the extended oval form of this shield and its geometric decoration that pushes against the curved edges. The central horizontal band of red creates a break in the rhythm, a sophisticated syncopation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ92eh6r47jAdwMN2XfoszYCRRD4jDyaHwYthhuoqA84voQlppiK8kH_cJewdnxHg-2T8qAnw44jHwEtJMjCM9oWzuvynd-HmgRevZl-69tDuw-d3zsACpNVys6CVIywmK0G7uzzOO6Auk/s1600/6+egyptian+jar+and+pots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ92eh6r47jAdwMN2XfoszYCRRD4jDyaHwYthhuoqA84voQlppiK8kH_cJewdnxHg-2T8qAnw44jHwEtJMjCM9oWzuvynd-HmgRevZl-69tDuw-d3zsACpNVys6CVIywmK0G7uzzOO6Auk/s400/6+egyptian+jar+and+pots.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Egyptian ointment jars and pots for makeup, 1800-1500 BC</div>
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The Egyptian jars and the two porcelain works below are objects that I photographed on previous visits to the Met, but which fit in with the theme of clear and simple form, form which I find so pleasurable. I look at Egyptian works often, especially Egyptian reliefs, which inspired me to begin my series of <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1230922080255214.1073741937.100000123014844&type=1&l=a269554c01" target="_blank">relief sculpture</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxTJyVF8fZd2Q4OYaMYwlNC14qISDAep2qqbqjovIJQZfk7LEiGvLOmmIyL8ugh3xQbbYMkA_nTxL5pGIgCd3BRWVHviR0WK1vBw8n38nwdixZoINIJtK9HNaDGjgLIwrLQcruI4X2V7g/s1600/7+chinese+bottle%252C+white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxTJyVF8fZd2Q4OYaMYwlNC14qISDAep2qqbqjovIJQZfk7LEiGvLOmmIyL8ugh3xQbbYMkA_nTxL5pGIgCd3BRWVHviR0WK1vBw8n38nwdixZoINIJtK9HNaDGjgLIwrLQcruI4X2V7g/s400/7+chinese+bottle%252C+white.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
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Chinese Qing dynasty porcelain, late 17th - early 18th century</div>
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On the Met's second floor, in cases to the left of the grand staircase, are many elegant Chinese porcelains, beautiful in color and in shape. I love these pieces, not the highly decorated vases, but the ones that are mainly a single color––white or yellow, or oxblood–––on a pure form.<br />
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<i>Moon Jar</i>, Korea, second half 18th century; porcelain, 15 1/4 x 13 in.</div>
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There is a gallery dedicated to <a href="http://metmuseum.org/art/collection#!?q=korea&perPage=20&department=6&sortBy=Relevance&sortOrder=asc&offset=0&pageSize=0" target="_blank">Korean art </a>in the Asian wing at the Met, with intriguing objects on view, especially ceramics. The <i>Moon Jar </i>with its gently swelling form and delicate coloration is a favorite of mine.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnWwQTG_QWHxX47PRGizMJutgbcgWZMCeDRrH6Q_QLpDJ7XOsyeFE-5v6DRa2Adq5o0fcDcOc5aWYaAyy_y3m8kIpPllqQQh_PoMOzol0RMk3a7S8mrI7E78sKfR0BZHrLChWAfJemn9R/s1600/9+barnett+newman%252C+untitled+etching+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnWwQTG_QWHxX47PRGizMJutgbcgWZMCeDRrH6Q_QLpDJ7XOsyeFE-5v6DRa2Adq5o0fcDcOc5aWYaAyy_y3m8kIpPllqQQh_PoMOzol0RMk3a7S8mrI7E78sKfR0BZHrLChWAfJemn9R/s640/9+barnett+newman%252C+untitled+etching+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Barnett Newman, <i>Untitled Etching #1</i>, 1969; etching and aquatint, 23 3/8 x 14 11/16 in.</div>
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After admiring the objects from the Americas and Oceania, I felt that the pure, simple form of this Barnett Newman etching had an increased resonance and weight. It's not only a modernist abstraction, but it is also an heir to a millennial-old tradition of art's fundamental aspect, pointing to a quality of transcendence. The clearing away of extraneous detail and of narrative, the focus on the essential, gives to all these works a sense of the extraordinary, the magical, and shows the power of art to elevate and enlarge us.<br />
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<br />Altoon Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743040814034732581noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7658518583188826551.post-74563495857564463272016-12-19T12:43:00.000-05:002016-12-19T12:43:51.226-05:00Where to Find Meaning?<br />
Hello and Happy Holidays to all my long-lost blog friends. I want to share with you a brief essay that I am honored to have included in the final, online, issue of the long-running art journal <a href="http://ayearofpositivethinking.com/" target="_blank">M/E/A/N/I/N/G</a>, edited by <a href="http://www.miraschor.com/" target="_blank">Mira Schor</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susan_Bee" target="_blank">Susan Bee</a>, which focuses on how to find meaning in this current political climate; there are many contributors, artists and writers. My essay is at the bottom of <a href="http://ayearofpositivethinking.com/2016/12/19/meaning-the-final-issue-on-a-year-of-positive-thinking-8/" target="_blank">this page</a>, and here below.<br />
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-size: small;">“I am here to wonder.” Goethe</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">It is difficult to understand how to respond to the political shock that descended on so many of us in early November. Where to turn, how to think, what to do? For me, it is necessary to go towards what I find essential, which is paying attention to the small moments that bring joy and beauty and surprise: winter sunlight reaching far into a room, highlighting the delicate serrated edge of a seed head; a tiny snail crossing an immensity of leaf; bright light illuminating a plastic tank; the taste of a garden tomato warmed by the sun; a tangle of tree roots pushing against city pavement; the emergence of a seedling, still a miracle to me. To slow down and notice everyday things provides sense and spirit and calm to emotional chaos. </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-size: small;">“The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.”</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Henry Miller</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I walk in the woods, taking the same path several times a week, and each time it is different in feeling and in light, each time there are things to see that I hadn’t noticed before: a bit of moss, a fluff of seeds, a leaf dangling from a spider’s thread, all marvels.</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-size: small;">“I think what one should do is write in an ordinary way and make the writing seem extraordinary. One should write, too, about what is ordinary and see the extraordinary behind it.” Jean Rhys</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">And there is art, my own and the sweep of art history. In my painting and sculpture I too attempt, like Jean Rhys, to transform the ordinary and overlooked; details of farm machinery––panels and bolts, light and shadow crossing metal and plastic surfaces––become complex formal compositions. When I was a younger artist I felt the need to make large dramatic paintings, but now I value intimacy and close looking. And I value being part of a very long tradition of picture making by Homo sapiens going back 40,000 years, when humans painted in caves, making images of remarkable sensitivity. We don’t know the purpose of these paintings, but to me they indicate a need to recreate the world, to make something beautiful from nothing. Across millennia peoples have made images and have decorated objects, not from necessity but from desire. One of my deepest pleasures is to wander the galleries of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC for hours, crossing the globe, visiting favorite objects and discovering new ones. I’ve long felt that art-making was an essential part of being human but was nevertheless startled to read the following while writing this piece; it appears in the NY Review of Books November 24th issue, in a review about brain science by the early pre-history professor Steven Mithen. He asks “what gave us ‘the Homo sapiens advantage’?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i><span style="font-size: small;">It wasn’t brain size because the Neanderthals matched Homo sapiens. My guess is that it may have been another invention: perhaps symbolic art that could extend the power of those 86 billion neurons.…</span></i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: small;">I am part of a tradition of making; I am part of the world. In paying close attention to both, I find meaning. </span></span></div>
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