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Archive for February, 2010

This Walking Man I from the late Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti.

A week or so back it became the most expensive piece of art ever sold at auction, selling for a cool $104.3 million.

I’ve always been intrigued by the life and work of Giacometti so I’m not going to rant about the relative merits of any work being truly worth such a sum of money.  If someone feels that it is worth that, then it is worth that.

However, there was an interesting editorial piece in Tuesday’s New York Times from Eduardo Porter that used the sale of this Giacometti as an example that the economic downturn is at an end.  At least for the type of person who can afford $104.3 million.

The fact that the super-rich are once again secure enough to parctice conspicuous consumption is a positive economic indicator especially when it comes to things such as works of art and other luxury items, which are considered Veblen goods. These are are items whose appeal grows as their prices rise.  Think Ferrari.  Louis Vuitton.

The Veblen Effect is an interesting one.  The idea that the same item becomes more desirable simply because it’s price is raised seems somewhat counterintuitive.  One would think that common sense would make such a thing a rare occurrence.  But we know better, don’t we?  Status seeking overrules all common sense.

I have seen the Veblen Effect at work.  I have a painter friend who, a number of years ago, had a painting sitting for a long time in his possession.  He felt it was a very good piece, one that was a great example of his body of work.  It was priced modestly and sat for months and months with no interest.  Frustrated one day, he more than doubled the price of this painting.

It sold within days.

Now this is certainly not on the level of the Giacometti’s Walking Man.  It’s just a little illustration of how we all can be affected by this drive to show our desired status in this world.  I’m not saying it’s wrong or right.  It’s part of who we are as a species and will probably never change.  The important thing is to determine who you really are as a person and be comfortable with that. 

Because who you truly are shows through even the most  or least  expensive coverings…

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I guess I’m a little worried.

I tend to worry when I see problems that I have no answers to or have little control in their resolution. 

The latest moment of worry came with the resignation of Evan Bayh from his seat in Congress, citing the frustration of dealing with idealogues of both sides of the aisle and the gridlock resulting from their stubborn belief that theirs is the best and only way to move this country forward. 

It brought to mind a couple of things for me.  The first was an article several weeks ago that asked if we, as a country, had finally become ungovernable.  It cited the the increasing polarity of the two parties over the past two decades with a seemingly total aversion to common ground.  It spoke of the even greater influence of even bigger money lobbyists over the same time and the ever increasing use of stalling tactics, such as the filibuster, to delay the progress of anyof the nation’s business.  It also mentioned a political system that had become so cannibalistic in their personal attacks that it kept our the best people from seeking office, leaving the seats of governance open to those concerned with furthering personal agendas or worse, the agenda of an entity to which they are indebted.

Gone were the days of coming together to do what was needed to serve the country.  Instead it became you say yes, I must say no.  A culture that sees compromise as failure.

I was reminded of a conversation I had a number of years back at the Principle Gallery, in Alexandria just outside DC.  One of their clients and friends was there when I was delivering some work who was a longtime Washington insider, the assistant to a very well known political consultant/strategist.  You would know the name. 

His boss was a Democrat and this gentleman was a Republican.  I commented that this seemed a bit unusual and he said it wasn’t really that odd.  At least,he said,  it wasn’t in the Washington of the past.  He went on to say that he was sickened every day by the partisanship and the ugly tone of both sides, how personal attacks that would have seldom taken place before were now the norm.  He talked about how it was becoming more and more difficult to get anything done and how it was more about satisfying special interests than serving the people.

This was in the spring of 2001.

Things have not gone well in the time since.  We have a completely polarized Congress.  A Supreme Court that seems to put the rights of the corporation above the rights of the citizens, whose recent rulings may very well allow the shamelessly greedy bankers and brokers who sent us to the brink of ruin actually have more power and say in who is elected.  We are constantly bombarded by pundits from both sides who take glee in the failures of the other side which to me says they are taking joy in our failures as a nation.

And we, the great centrist portion of the nation are left with this– a nation served from the edges of both sides.  Nobody is well served this way and nobody is happy but for those who profit from the edges.

So, are we ungovernable?  Do we have any chance of moving forward together as one nation?

I don’t know. 

Like the heading above says, I am worried.  I, like most, feel as though I am powerless to affect change, that my voice is tiny before the great din of Washington and Big Money. 

I’m hoping an answer will appear…

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Led Home

As I wrote in a post last week, the idea of home has been a large component of my recent work.  For some,  it is a physical place and for others it is simply the sense of being at home, a feeling that may be prompted by something that triggers memories of a time when they felt at ease and completely secure.  It’s probably different for many people and I’m not sure it matters how one defines home for themselves.

For me, the important part is that the idea of home is a universal theme, one that we all identify with in our own lives.  We all seek the safety and comfort of home however we define it.  And it’s this seeking for something that is so vaguely defined that interests me as an artist.  It’s such a strong drive in us that it raises many different images in our minds.

This new painting, which I’m calling Led Home, deals with this idea of home as an elusive quest.  The house stands in the distance with a road leading to it through a field of golden grass.  Above, the sunlight breaks through the broken sky to act as a sort of beacon guding the seeker forward.  The tree and the path in the foreground are almost in shadow as though the discovery of home signals a transition from darkness into light.

The house, like many of those used in my work, is without windows or doors.  I’m never positive why this is so but perhaps, given the short expalnation above, it is because it is representing something vaguely indefinable, soemthing we can’t really see in full detail in our minds.  I don’t know for sure– that just came to me as I wrote this.

This is just one way of looking at this piece.  How I see it this morning at first glance.  Perhaps it will change in definition for me with time but I doubt it– those first glances tell a lot about a piece and tend to hold the most truth.

The painting is a 10″ by 30″ work on canvas.

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Perfect Day

I don’t normally like to put posts with music in them too close to one another but while watching the Winer Olympics I keep seeing an ad with Lou Reed‘s Perfect Day carrying the message.  I can’t even remember what the ad is for but I always stop when it comes on to hear Lou.

It’s a funny thing how the world has come around.  When I was listening to Lou Reed many ages ago, the idea that his songs would be used as the motor for commerce seemed totally inconceivable.  His songs were not pretty.  His songs were not sentimental in the way we normally see sentiment.  They were about seamy people on the grubby side of town.

And Lou was not a pretty voice.  His plaintive flat tones lent a matter-of-fact feel to his lyrics of drug use, sexual ambiguity and street-smart losers.  Not the stuff of your normal pitchman.

I remember a Christmas when my brother gave me the album Rock N Roll Animal and all Christmas Eve and most of the next Christmas day my stereo was blasting Sweet Jane and Heroin through the house.  Not exactly holiday cheer but when you’re young and pretty much stupid, you don’t fully appreciate the occasion.

But time passes and the mainstream shifts, and what was once verboten now is the stuff of TV ads and supermarket background music.

I don’t know if there’s a point here.  I just wanted to play Perfect Day for you.  Have one yourself…

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Although I Conquer All the Earth

 

Although I conquer all the earth,

Yet for me there is only one city.

In that city there is for me only one house;

And in that house, one room only;

And in that room, a bed.

And one woman sleeps there,

                                         The shining joy and jewel of all my kingdom.

                                                            —Anonymous, Ancient India

 

 

A little verse and a couple of Jim Dine’s iconic hearts for Valentine’s Day.

Enjoy the day…

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They held the opening ceremonies for the 2010 Winter Olympics last night in Vancouver.  As usual, it was a great bit of spectacle.  There was only one visible glitch although it occured at the most critically symbolic moment.  As the torchbearers, including Wayne Gretzky, waited nervously for the Olympic cauldron to rise from the arena floor one of the four large supports that were supposed to rise balked.  Nothing happened.  Finally, after an awkward pause, the ceremony went ahead with just the three remaining supports.

Hopefully, this small hiccup in an otherwise wonderful ceremony and the horrible death of a young Georgian luger yesterday will not taint the games.  The world could use a few moments of relative unity right now.

I’m showing a poster from the 1912 Stockholm Olympics just as an example of how beautiful some of the Olympic posters once were.  Over the years, the artwork for the games have become more and more logo-like, more commercial and less artful.  It’s more about creating a brand than expressing the spirit of the games.  But that is but a reflection of our times.

Also, last night saw Canadian chanteuse KD Lang perform Hallelujah.  Her’s is always a  great version of the song and the presentation last night was striking with all in the crowd holding lights and swaying to the rhytm of the song.  I first saw KD Lang in the early 80’s when she was still perfroming with the Reclines.  I think I saw her first on a Smother Brothers Show that ran for a short time in the summer one year.  She was wearing a big cowgirl outfit and flying around the stage, manically out of control.  She was like a dervish.  Like a force of nature.  With that huge voice.  It cought my attention.

Here’s a song from her from that time, one of my favorites, Pullin Back the Reins.  Enjoy your Saturday…

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I’m pretty excited because the opening ceremonies for the 2010 Winter Olympics are being held tonight in Vancouver.  Cheri and I have both been Olympic junkies since we were children.  For both of us, it was really sparked by the 1972 Munich games which had great television coverage of the games.  Unfortunately, the horror and the  human drama of the eleven Israeli athletes who were taken hostage and eventually killed by Palestinian terrorists overshadowed the feats of Mark Spitz and Olga Korbut and the controversy of the USA/ USSR men’s basketball championship game which ended with the USA team having the victory gold ripped from their hands by a series of  incredible calls by officials, on and off the court.  To this day, their second place silver medals lay unclaimed in a Swiss vault.

The winter olympics over the years have yielded some of the most memorable moments for us.  There is, of course, the Miracle on Ice of the US men’s gold in hockey at the 1980 Lake Placid GamesTorvill and Dean’s transcendent ice dancing.  Eric Heiden, Apollo Ohno and Bonnie Blair’s exploits in speedskating, not forgetting the failure and redemption of skater Dan Jantzen.  There were the exploits of Eddie the Eagle, the Brit whose Olympic triumph came in the fact that he simply made it to the bottom of the hill each time he took off from the ski jump.

So many memories of triumph and failure.  For Cheri and me, the moment that crystallizes the Olympics into a single moment is the final run by Austrian Franz Klammer in the men’s downhill at the 1976 Innsbruck games.  Klammer was the hero of Austria and carried all their hopes for success in the games.  There may never have been an Olympic athlete with such high expectations placed on a single event.  A sizzling time had been put up on the board by a competitor and Klammer came to the line as the final skier.  With his homeland screaming and ringing cowbells, Klammer unleashed a performance that could be considered as the definition for walking the line between disaster and triumph.  From the very top, he skied with utter abandon.  He flailed and fought his way down the big hill, often off balance with one ski off the ground.  Somehow he made it to the line and Austria erupted when hiis winning time came up on the board. 

That was a triumph of Olympic proportion.

So, for the next couple of weeks we’ll be glued to the games, seeing if there will be a new lasting memory.  A big moment of triumph.  A big moment of failure.  A quiet moment of redemption.   It’ll all be there, I’m sure.

After all, it’s time for the Olympics.

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When a writer knows home in his heart,

his heart must remain subtly apart from it.

He must always be a stranger

to the place he loves,

and its people.”

—William Morris

I came across this quote from William Morris, the English artist/designer/writer who basically set the Craftsman aesthetic movement into motion in Britain and here in the States.  I found this as a quote without any context and  was immediately intrigued by it.

It seems somewhat sad at first glance, that one should remain somewhat aloof in one’s home but I think I understand what he’s saying.  To understand what home means to you, you must be able to step away and view it with a slightly distant eye, to put yourself in the corner as a dispassionate observer.  From this vantage point one can see and understand the bonds of home.

I don’t know why I mention this today.  Maybe it’s that lately my work has dealt with the concept of home and what it means symbolically.  What does home really mean?  Is it a place or a state of being?  Is it formed by the sense of security one experienced and maintains from their childhood?  Does the search for home ever feel fulfilled?  Maybe it’s questions such as these  that draw me to these words.

Like anything, to truly understand something you must be able to step back from it and view it from a distance.  When you’re in a house you may have only an idea of what it looks like put together from going from room to room, getting a sense of size and shape.  But it’s only when you step outside the house and take it all in from a more  distant view, that you truly see how the house looks and sits in its environment.  I think this is what Morris is saying about one’s sentimental home as well.

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This is a new painting from the studio that I finished yesterday.  It’s a 16″ by 20″ canvas that combines, for the first time, the elements of the Archaeology series with the painting style that I call obsessionist.  The difference is visible when comparing the finer, more detailed work in the detritus of the Archaeology section at the painting’s bottom with the way the tree and sky above are painted, with more expressive, visible brushstrokes.

Also for the first time, I show the roots of the tree above.  I had been thinking of doing this in the past and many people had inquired but I didn’t want to do it unless it maintained the rhythm of the piece for me.  I don’t know how to explain how I judge this rhythm.  It’s just a matter of looking at the piece and determining whether a sense of rightness exists.  Do the elements flow easily together?  Is there anything that makes the eye stop because of something, a line for instance,  feeling unnatural?  Just intuition, I guess.  So far, I like the roots showing and feel they maintain the rhythm of this painting but I’m still taking in the piece.

It’s the time of the year when I can hold a piece for a while and soak it in, let it live in the periphery of my vision for weeks.  This gives me a better sense of the piece’s cohesiveness.  Sometimes a painting will feel complete and ready but, with a little time to let it be, reveals a need for something more.  It may be a major change such as the addition of a whole new compositional element or just a tweak in a small bit of color in a small section of the painting.

It will be interesting to see what this piece reveals over the next few weeks…

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Yesterday, as I was painting in the studio, I had the pleasure of seeing two of my favorite movies, Hangmen Also Die and The Seventh Cross from the WW II era, two films that dealt with the citizens of countries occupied by the Nazis at that time.   Both dealt with underground resistance efforts and how they operated to undermine and hinder the Nazi’s hold on their countries.

I’ve always been intrigued by these movies made during wartime, movies that deal not with the soldiers in the field but with the citizens who struggle to live day to day under a brutal occupier.  The depiction of the resistance fighters in both of these movies is remarkable in that they are portrayed as totally unremarkable people.  Just everyday people who overcome their fears to perform small acts of bravery that collectively become large actions against their oppressors.

In many ways, these people are more inspiring and heroic than the John Wayne style heros of that era’s battlefield films.  When I watch these films, I always find myself wondering how I, or people I know, would react in such situations.  Would we be able to muster the will to put aside our fears and work to oppose our occupiers?  Or would we cave and submit willingly?

I know we would all love to say that we would take the heroic route, that we would fight against the powers that oppressed us.  For me, I can only hope that this is true.  I can’t be sure.   I’ve lived long enough to know that, for most,  the expediency of momentary security often trumps heroic intentions and the very thought of courageous actions.

I hope I never have to know the answer to these questions.

So, if you wish to be inspired by the courage of common folk, take a gander at these two films.  Maybe it will help you be braver in your own lives…

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