Wednesday, March 3, 2010


Laguna Beach Observed
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- The term "artists colony" always leads my mind to visualizing country or perhaps small-town scenes. I suppose there are urban equivalents; the world holds many things, after all. But if there were a group of artists working or even living in, say, a loft building, they might be called something different, something that might include the word "collective" or perhaps "commune." (Yes, I know that there are some buildings that house studios for established professional artists such as Everett Raymond Kinstler's in the Gramercy Park area, but I'm sure the term "artists colony" is seldom used to describe such a setting.) It's hard to shake that rural image because most such colonies really were rural. Perhaps the two best known West Coast artistic communities are Carmel-by-the-Sea on the central California coast just south of Monterey Bay and Laguna Beach, between Los Angeles and San Diego. Both colonies became established in the early part of the 20th century when there were few full-time residents and raw nature could be seen and depicted. Today, both communities are artsy, but purely natural scenes are harder to come by. Here are some views of Laguna Beach by artists and cameras to illustrate this. Laguna Shores - Guy Rose Laguna Rocks, Low Tide - Guy Rose Laguna Coast - Guy Rose Rose was based in the San Francisco Bay area, but would travel to Laguna Beach from time to time for coastal scenes that are a little different from what can be found in Monterey or Carmel. Laguna Beach - Clarence Hinkle - 1929 From the Laguna Beach Museum of Art collection. I'm not sure why Hinkle used this color scheme; perhaps he wanted to cast off the powerful influence of coastal California coloring that strongly affected nearly every other landscape painter in the area. Big mistake, think I (assuming the photo reproduced the coloring well and that the original painting hadn't faded). Old Coast Road - William Wendt - c.1916 Wendt is one of the best-known California Impressionists. To him, painting nature was a spiritual matter, so California coloring was a matter of celebration on his canvasses. Laguna Coast - photo Laguna Coast postcard - 1920s From almost no residents in 1900, the 1920s yielded a real, though still isolated, town. I took this photo in January from the hill where the art museum stands. Plenty of housing nowadays. Just around the point, in the direction of Los Angeles, are some scenes without human habitation. Another view, but from the opposite direction. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at March 3, 2010 | perma-link | (0) comments

Sunday, February 28, 2010


1934 Painting Style
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- There's a painting exhibition titled "1934: A New Deal for Artists" starting to wend its way across the U.S. after a Washington, D.C. opening. (The Smithsonian's kickoff web info is here.) It comes to Bellingham, Washington later this year, so I might go see it if I think about it and can fit it into my schedule of indolence and sloth. One reason why I'm iffy about going is that I've seen the show's book in stores and didn't notice enough interesting items to warrant buying it for reference, let alone enjoyment. So why bother to see the real thing? For reasons I'll probably get around to posting about, I find the period 1920-1945 fascinating: the movies, the fashions, the politics, the architecture, the cars and planes and trains, the commercial art, the sculpture, the interior decoration -- but not the painting. As I see it, that period marked a breathing space, dead zone, time for regrouping between the first surge of modernist painting (1900-1914 give or take five or so years) and the 1946-1960 triumph of the New York school of Abstract Expressionism. Avant-garde painters were groping for something new to follow Dada. This proved to be pretty much the Neue Sachlichkeit (New Objectivity) movement in Germany and Surrealism from France. Basically, the innovative surge was over and new directions were hard to come by. In America, there were artists who wanted to be avant-garde, but modernism arrived late on our shores (the famous 1912 New York Armory Show is generally considered the catalyst) and they had to spend time internalizing what the Europeans were up to before reaching that same stymied stage. Some American painters simply ignored modernism. The remainder, perhaps in an effort to be in fashion commercially, tried to incorporate bits of modernism. The overall result on both sides of the Atlantic was unsatisfactory painting where any whiff of modernism was attempted. There were some exceptions -- Georgia O'Keeffe and Tamara de Lempicka come to mind -- but I find the era pretty dreary. And so to the exhibit. Here are some examples of what was on display. Gallery Golden Gate Bridge by Ray Strong Essentially realistic, with the merest touch of simplification. Basically hard-edged with little in the way of atmospheric perspective. Perhaps influenced by photography, industrial sites became a popular genre in the Thirties. Valley Farms by Ross Dickinson Grant Wood painted such scenes more famously. What we have here is a scene from the perspective of an airplane. In no way could an early-30s artist plein-air this: it's essentially a design featuring simplified solids. I find this 30s genre harmless and amusing. Employment of Negroes in Agriculture by Earle Richardson Not on the fields shown above, but elsewhere, we find workers -- the proletariat being another subject popular among artists of a certain persuasion. Again, simplified, solid forms, but this time for people. The background with those almost geometrical trees is of a piece with the painting... posted by Donald at February 28, 2010 | perma-link | (1) comments

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


LA's Modest Monument
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Los Angeles can't be called a modest city. But it does have an important transportation center, an architectural gem that can claim modesty in terms of size. It's Union Station, currently a nexus for various kinds of rail transport and formerly the arrival point for the major passenger railroads serving the city. The Wikipedia entry is here, if you are interested in details. Union Station opened in 1939, making it one of the last (perhaps the very last) railroad station constructed for a major American metropolis. Even though it was conceived and built during the Depression years, such circumstances weren't remarkable. That's because Los Angeles weathered the economic storm better than most parts of the country thanks to the movie industry and, in the very late '30s, the aircraft industry. The LA area remains a treasure trove of Art Deco and Moderne buildings. The most surprising thing about Union Station is its modest size, given the city it was designed to serve. Perhaps this was a matter of budget. Or maybe some of those planning the project were able to foresee that aviation would eventually begin to overtake rail as the standard means of long-distance intercity travel. Even though I've been in Los Angeles many times, I never got around to visiting Union Station until last month. I was impressed with the fact that it appeared to be well maintained. It also seemed cleaner, less grungy, than some other railroad stations I've visited both in the USA and in Europe. Plus, I liked the architecture and interior decoration. Here are some photos I took. Union Station as seen from the top of City Hall Main entrance View after entering To the left, an unused waiting room From farther in, looking back towards the main entrance Beyond the main waiting room Waiting room, showing seats and wall decor General view of main waiting room Side entrance Nearby is a bar City Hall as seen from entrance plaza. It and the station had the same architect Later, Donald... posted by Donald at February 23, 2010 | perma-link | (2) comments

Saturday, February 20, 2010


Art Center Students Strut Stuff
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- When I was a teenager I thought it would be really neat if I could become an automobile stylist. After several years of scribbling cars and planes on the margins of class notes I reached the point where it was time to decide on which college to attend. As it happened, the only place I applied was nearly University of Washington which offered an Industrial Design program in its School of Art. The problem for me was that there was no transportation design subfield. (In any case, a brush with vector analysis in introductory Physics sent me scurrying to another major.) The best automobile design training on the West Coast was (and still is) to be found at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena (Wikipedia entry here). Back then, it was called the Art Center School and was located a few miles west of downtown Los Angeles. I went so far as to send for a catalog, but that was as far as I got. Self-doubt and the expense of attending were probably the main factors in my decision; another was the desire to have a degree from a major university. One year when Washington played in the Rose Bowl, a fraternity brother and I drove out to the Art Center School and checked it out. This January, decades later, I checked it out again -- this time at its hilltop lair in northwest Pasadena. Almost all of it is contained in a linear, Miesian-style building. It was semester break, so activity levels were comparatively low. I noticed several shop areas with computerized milling tools and lots of other gizmos needed to create scale models of cars and other design objects; chisels, sandpaper and clay knives, tools of the trade decades ago, now seem to be relics. Tucked in the midst of the nondescript glass-and-steel linearity was a gallery of student work. Below are examples, mostly from the transportation design contingent. Here's a view of part of the transportation display. Several displays including this one were from a project where students apparently were told to select a car make and come up with a vehicle for around its 2030 model year. The background poster summarizes the research the student did. In front is a half-model placed in front of a mirror. This is a stylist trick going back to the 1930s: the half-model and mirror setup gives the impression of viewing a complete model, and saves model-building effort. Note the tracery in the vents near the wheels -- it apparently isn't decorative, instead reflecting a cage-construction scheme shown in one of the poster elements. Also, what's the deal with the apparently missing windshield? Here an imagined 2030 Volkswagen "Theta," a compact vehicle with pivot-seating for passengers in the rear. A mean-looking recreational vehicle. Visibility seems minimal, a demerit-laden style feature if I were on the faculty. This projected Lambo looks like it's either (1) set up to prowl the streets of a... posted by Donald at February 20, 2010 | perma-link | (1) comments

Thursday, February 18, 2010


Goodhue in Honolulu
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Above is a photo I took of the front of the Honolulu Academy of Arts building in December. Among other things, the link tells us: New York architect Bertram Goodhue designed the plans for a classic Hawaiian-style building with the mountains as a dramatic backdrop and colorful blossoming trees, flowers, and shrubs complementing the simple off-white exteriors and tiled roofs. Goodhue died before the project was completed. Stepping in to finish the job was Hardie Phillip. Over the years, this unique style has been imitated in many buildings throughout the state. Goodhue happens to be one of my favorite architects for the simple reason that many building I happen to like were designed by him. For whatever it's worth, Goodhue never attended college or architectural school, instead learning the trade as an apprentice. Also noteworthy is that he was not tied to a single historical style, though he seldom did anything remotely neoclassical. I wrote about his Spanish style Panama-California Exposition work in San Diego here. Below are more photos of the Academy of Arts. Central Court Flanking Central Court Another courtyard The layout of the Academy from the entrance to just behind the Central Court is symmetrical, formal. The spirit of the architecture strikes me as being a blend of California Spanish and East Asian, with the Californian predominating. For this reason, the Wikipedia assertion quoted above regarding "a classic Hawaiian-style building" seems puzzling. Apparently Goodhue himself couldn't discern a generally applicable local architectural style when he visited Oahu in 1917. According to Romy Wyllie's book "Bertram Goodhue: His Life and Residential Architecture" (Amazon link here) (p.127), However, here was a group of tropical islands, which in Goodhue's opinion lacked good design or even competent construction, a situation calling for the introduction of an architectural style that would fit the climate and landscape. He also saw a chance to develop a simpler version of the Spanish theme that he had used in the company town of Tyrone [New Mexico] and the campus for the California Institute of Technology. He told [Cecil] Brewer [in a letter] that he was not sure how his ideas for a specifically Hawaiian architecture would go over: I have found only one person here who "gets me" and all the others look at my with a pitying expression and go off and build wood bungalows with gingerbread all over them, or else houses as near "like mother used to make" in New England as Japanese laborers, imported Oregon Pine and a very poor grade of cement will permit. The Hawaiian climate and perhaps the volcanic-based terrain shaped native building solutions in the direction of lightly-constructed wood and thatch structures such as can be seen displayed at the Bishop Museum. So Goodhue had little choice than to do some inventing where a substantial building was called for. More recent architects have suffered from the same problem. Below are two views of Hawaii's state capitol building, not far from the Academy,... posted by Donald at February 18, 2010 | perma-link | (3) comments

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


Disney Concert Hall -- Belated Look
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Buildings by architecture biggie Frank Gehry (who turns 81!! at the end of this month) are scattered around the world. This means I seldom see them and have almost never been in one. Until last month, the only one I'd ever visited was the Experience Music Project (EMP) building in Seattle, and there only to the Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame. However, my wife wanted to attend a concert at the Walt Disney Concert Hall in downtown Los Angeles which opened for business around six and a half years ago, so I got my second shot at a Gehry. Some of the photos I took are shown below. Gallery Exterior (cropped from original photo) An entrance Lobby Snack area Up escalator Intermission mingling area Concert hall itself Any properly designed concert hall has its hall as the focus of attention of the architects, acoustical experts, marketing and accounting people (how many seats can be fitted in) and management in general. The rest of the building is ancillary. So consider the photos at the bottom first, then work up to the typical Gehry tin-can exterior. According to the Wikipedia link, the hall has good acoustics. That was my take too, but my hearing has never been much good (don't hear high-pitch sounds well), and that makes me a poor judge of such things. Note that seats surround the orchestra floor. The concert hall in San Francisco has a few behind-the-orchestra seats, but this was carried much further in Los Angeles. As you can see from the photos, we had such seats -- which interested my wife greatly when watching the musicians operate. Given the acoustical engineering requirements, I think the hall itself is nicely done. The rest of the building becomes something of a prisoner to Gehry's signature styling. Lots of oddly shaped spaces and necessary structural elements intruding here and there. Overall, somewhat confusing, yet with more visual interest than the usual T-square and triangle International Style solution. Not to mention incorporation of a few elements (those upswept tree trunk like forms) that might be considered decorative. Of course Gehry must be classed as modernist, yet he emphatically is not a classical International Style form-follows-function modernist. So he goes into the catch-all postmodern bag. My biased verdict? Decent concert hall. The wrappings are show-offy and not user-friendly. I wonder what a retro Art Deco or Art Nouveau wrap that included a proper entrance space and a clear circulation scheme might have achieved. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at February 9, 2010 | perma-link | (6) comments

Saturday, January 16, 2010


Destination Pasadena
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- If your scene is hyper, with-it Los Angeles or New York City, "little old lady" style Pasadena, California might not fit your tastes. The town has been a genteel island in the Southern California frenzy since the San Gabriel Mountains were raised, or something like that. Consider the college scene. No ultra-lefty Berkeley, UC Santa Cruz and that ilk. No jock-focused USC vibes. Just good ol' nose-to-the-computer Cal Tech in this neck of the former lemon and orange groves. And of course the Old Money. Or archeological evidence thereof, the subject of this post. If you are an architecture buff, those remains might well be worth a Pasadena visit. Speaking of visit, one architectural gem that can be toured is the Gamble House, the winter get-away-from-Cincinnati residence of Gambles of Proctor & Gamble fame. The house is now jointly owned by the University of Southern California and the City of Pasadena; the house web site is here. Gamble House We took the one-hour overview tour, but more detailed tours are also available to suit intensity of specialization of interest (there's one for woodworkers, for instance). The Gamble House is one of the finest achievements of famed Arts & Crafts architects Green and Green. Many years ago I was in Pasadena for a Rose Bowl game where the University of Washington was playing. On our way from the Rose Parade route to the bowl, we must have passed by the Gamble House (still in Gamble hands then). It failed to register, perhaps because its architecture was not fashionable and probably ignored by my architecture history professor. A block or two farther down the hill to the Arroyo Seco, a house partly hidden by vegetation caught my eye. It was a Frank Lloyd Wright house. One from his Imperial Hotel (Tokyo) - cement-block (Callifornia) period. Millard House I immediately recognized it as the Millard House. Earlier this week I tracked it down again, not having seen it in 50 years (literally!). It's still there, the grounds even more overgrown. One of the staff up at the Gamble House said that the Millard was still privately owned, but was up for sale for a lot of money. Its fate will be determined. In the meanwhile, if you have the address (645 Prospect Crescent) and a street map showing Pasadena, you can inspect it from its street address side just off Prospect Boulevard (up close, but not so interesting) or from the other end of the property through a wire fence on Rosemont Avenue. Not many towns besides Pasadena can boast such residential architecture treasures in such proximity, though Oak Park, Illinois comes to mind. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at January 16, 2010 | perma-link | (3) comments

Wednesday, January 13, 2010


A Cream-Pie for Rembrandt's Face?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- This article in the Los Angeles Times (7 January, page D8) informs us that there's an art blog that spoofs paintings by posting alternative captions. It's called That is Priceless, and a link is here. Writer David Ng reports: [The blog] was launched in November by L.A.-based television comedy writer and producer Steve Melcher. Once a day, Melcher spotlights a well-known work of art -- usually a painting -- and gives it an alternate title. ... Since November, Melcher has clocked in about one post per day. He said he chooses works that tell a clear story: "I don't do too much abstract or Impressionist art because readers will have to stop to figure out what the painting is showing. I love Dutch art -- they always have silly things going on in their paintings." The writer said he often tries to tie a painting to recent news, a holiday or a pop culture event. I think it's a cute concept. But I didn't find the revised captions near the top of the stack as of this morning especially side-splitting. Of course, Melcher is a TV writer and I'm totally unplugged from the current scene thereabouts, so my reaction might be because I'm out of touch. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at January 13, 2010 | perma-link | (2) comments

Monday, January 11, 2010


LACMA Report
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Still in the Los Angeles area, still hitting museums. Saturday, we visited the Getty Villa, a modern version of what was in Pompeii, containing examples of ancient art. It's literally a long stone's throw from where we're staying. Problem is, it takes me a real effort to pay much attention to art from Greco-Roman times. The likely reason is that I'm most interested in arts that I can actually do, and sculpture (which is mostly what survived) is something I did little of. Today I went to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA). With a director committed to modernism as well as the new building housing the Broad Contemporary Art Museum, it's not a place to see much pre-20th century painting. Actually, LACMA does have a number of good non-modernist works, but they're not emphasized. For example, their European Art collection is on the third floor of the Ahmanson Building (but the gallery's closed for renovation) and the modernist stuff is on the 2nd floor plaza entry level. Non-modernist American art is also on a third floor, that in the Art of the Americas Building; the main floor is reserved for special exhibits -- something about Persian rugs, currently, I think. This means you have to work harder to view traditional art than modernist art. The American Art galleries were open and I was able to check things out. There were nice examples of arts 'n' crafts furniture, a few California Impressionist paintings and an obligatory John Singer Sargent portrait. Also I spied a small portrait by Whistler and one by George Bellows that looks as if it might have been done by Robert Henri (no surprise) plus a mother-and-child by Mary Cassatt. What was a pleasant surprise was a large portrait of his wife by John White Alexander (see image below). The painting looks a lot nicer than this reproduction. It's painted thinly -- almost zero impasto -- though much of it is slightly sketchy with obvious brushwork providing a "painterly" effect without heaviness or drama. The plaza level galleries in Ahmanson have plenty of works by modernists of the 1910-1960 era, something useful for students interesting in seeing painting and sculpture by well-known hands. Having pounded on modernism and PoMo plenty on this bytes & pixels station, I'll spare you my reaction to what I saw in these galleries and at the Broad. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at January 11, 2010 | perma-link | (0) comments

Friday, January 8, 2010


Elaborate Interiors, Vegas Style
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Important public interior spaces of yore (think railroad stations, opera houses, 1920s movie theaters, large libraries, museums, and so forth) were grand both in size and decor. The advent of modernism along with the decline in the number of skilled craftsmen who could create the architectural details resulted in the current situation where ornamentation is very costly to produce. One place where elaborately ornamented buildings are built is Las Vegas, where billion dollar construction budgets permit it. Not all hotel-casinos go fancy, but several built over the last ten or 15 years offer visual feasts. Below are some photos of Las Vegas interiors I took in November. New York, New York As a warm-up, here's what can happen in a strongly "themed" casino -- in this case, a purported New York City street. Paris Okay, one more before we get to architectural detail and interior decoration. The Paris casino tries to a create Parisian atmosphere. MGM Grand Some shopping and restaurant areas in the MGM Grand are starkly modernist. But part was designed to evoke elaborate movies houses of the past as can be seen here. Bellagio Parts of the Bellagio are done in Italian galleria style. Caesar's Palace Just inside the Vegas Strip entrance to the shops area is this view, if you choose to look up. Venetian And if you look up here and there in the Venetian, you might spy more than a few ceiling paintings such as this one. This Venetian hallway leads from the casino floor to the hotel lobby ... ... here. Palazzo The new Palazzo is attached to the Venetian. Here is one of the entry areas. The dark, twisty object by the statuary is some seasonal decoration. This is the gallery in Palazzo's shopping area. Wynn Steve Wynn created the Bellagio and then went on to build the hotel-casino he modestly named after himself. Perhaps that's why there is a touch of galleria in the main shopping section. This is just beyond the shopping. Outside is a pool and (not seen here) a waterfall, inside are escalators and a bar on the lower floor. Encore On the same grounds as the Wynn is Wynn's latest -- the Encore. Shown is a hallway near shops. Note the butterfly theme found over much of the public areas. A bit of Encore interior decoration to close our show. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at January 8, 2010 | perma-link | (3) comments

Monday, January 4, 2010


And Then There's the Huntington
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- As promised, blogging has been a bit light lately because we're house-sitting in the Los Angeles area -- a little patch of Los Angeles County that intrudes between Pacific Palisades and the Malibu city limits. We're pretty well situated for seeing a number of interesting places, but there's no avoiding taking to the freeways to travel to sites deemed worth the hassle. Yesterday, it was Long Beach and the Queen Mary ocean liner which has been docked there for more than 40 years. Today we ventured to the Pasadena-San Marino area and the Huntington Library. As that Wikipedia link indicates, besides a research library crammed with rare books and related items, there are gardens and three art museum buildings. The link to the art is here; drill down for information on the collections. Although I had heard of the Huntington (and was even reminded of it in a comment to one of my posts here), I never had a clear picture of what it is. Therefore, I was amazed at what I found in the buildings devoted to European and American art. For instance there were scads (a term of precision measurement, I assure you) of portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds including an iconic Dr Samuel Johnson, and darn near as many by Thomas Gainsborough, including his famous "Blue Boy." Not to mention other portraits by Thomas Lawrence, John Singer Sargent (including a fabulous, flashy one of Pauline Astor), George Romney, William Hogarth, Henry Raeburn (a personal favorite), Cecilia Beaux, Robert Henri and George Bellows. Interior decoration fans might like seeing displays of furnishings from a Green & Green house, Frank Lloyd Wright furniture, patterns by William Morris' shop and stained glass windows designed by Edward Burne-Jones. Why wasn't I as familiar with the Huntington as I should have been? No doubt it has to do with the fact that late-18th and early 19th century British portrait painting hasn't been a hot art topic for a long time. I'm pretty sure I saw Blue Boy in my college art history class, but the instructor was in a big rush to go on to Turner, Ryder and the French Impressionists. Too bad for me. I should have experienced the Huntington years ago. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at January 4, 2010 | perma-link | (6) comments

Tuesday, December 29, 2009


Las Vegas High-Rising
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- CityCenter from across Bellagio pool The huge Las Vegas project CenterCity began opening a few days after I left town in late November. (My timing is always bad: the Wynn and Palazzo hotel-casinos also opened not long after previous visits.) But David Littlejohn, a west coast Wall Street Journal stringer was there in its early days and reported his reactions here. Unfortunately for me, Littlejohn's architectural tastes and mine aren't in synch. For example, he liked the Rem Koolhaas Seattle Public Library main branch building, a structure I consider a disaster in nearly every respect. One feature of CityCenter is that a group of starchitects was hired to do design duties, presumably in the high hope that the result would be a triumphal jewel in the crown of American artistic civilization. Unfortunately, I found CenterCity (or what I could see of it from outside construction barriers) to be a resounding modernist/postmodern banality, hardly in keeping with the wild, showy Las Vegas spirit. Below are a few of my snapshots. Claes Oldenburg giant eraser in its wrappings This is the third eraser I've stumbled across: one was encountered in Seattle, another on the Mall in Washington, DC. Note the passenger train car in the background, part of an inter-casino line. Since I couldn't enter the project, I'm not sure what this building is. But it's mostly an example of the "honest" modernism I was lectured about in my architectural history class in college. What you see is essentially a rectangular shaft, slightly beveled near the top, with a modest cap. The "decoration" or visual interest is provided by endlessly repeated balcony bands. I do not know what starchitect was responsible for this aesthetic marvel. Paris casino and hotel Up the street is this example of the "dishonest" architecture I was taught to despise. In Vegas one has to suffer from this sort of stuff. If Frank Gehry were dead, he'd be rolling in his grave at the though of such architecture. Veer Towers by Helmut Jahn That Jahn team sure must be a bunch of wild and craaazy guys! Man, do they have the LV spirit. Formula: start with a rectangular shaft (see above), toss in some cantilevering and surface color changes, and you have postmodernism for the Strip, right? Sadly, I probably won't be back to Vegas until next fall, so my evaluation of CityCenter interiors will have to wait. And perhaps by then the reaction of the Las Vegas-going public to CenterCity will have become more clear. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 29, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Saturday, December 19, 2009


Over-Theorized Design
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- One of the more interesting studies of automotive styling is this 1988 book by C. Edson Armi. One chapter dealt with an interview with a stylist whose name was not familiar to me -- Bill Porter of General Motors. Apparently Poster is respected in his industry. He was responsible for the early 1970s Pontiac Firebird and the 1985 Buick Electra and was involved in other designs during his career. A fairly recent article dealing in part with Porter is here. Unfinished rendering by Bill Porter Below is material from the book. In his search for a unique direction derived from an American tradition, Porter developed [General Motors styling Vice President Harley] Earl's orthographic and highlight system to create a new system of "power bulges" based on conic sections. He was searching for "fullness that is muscular" .... Porter sought to expand Harley Earl's curvilinear vocabulary in complicated new directions. [This for the Firebird, in contrast to the prevailing Bill Mitchell hard-edge styling formula for GM cars.] [p. 95] Porter created his own dynamic movement by implying a single monocoque shell but by varying the conic sections infinitely. This play-off he describes as "unity-yet-difference" between the upper and lower body sections. On the one hand, "the curvature of the very leading edge of the roof just above the windshield, if continued forward, would not flow down to become the windshield surface but would arc out over it, forming an imaginary bubble that would reconnect with the cowl surface." On the other hand, the "bubble" suggests independent variation within itself: "The curved cone" of the roof " gets wider and wider as it goes back, until it curves down and passes alongside the rear window, where it flattens way out until it curves down to fuse with the lower. Think of it sort of as a thin shell that, while structural, is like a cape unfurling. It is as if the cape were held by the front edge and unfurls to the rear, imparting a subliminal sense of something having been affected by motion." Porter also speaks about stretching the monocoque into the lower by means of barely perceptively changing curved sections that he extended through the front and rear fenders. He intended for the radii changes to be simultaneously subtle and repetition -- to be as much felt as understood ... [pp. 95-6] Car designers are almost always car crazy, in a positive sense, but very few who reach the top have any awareness of the other arts. Not only is Porter aware of the history of modern design and of the place of cars in it, but he also talks about his designs with the vocabulary usually reserved for painting, sculpture, and architecture. Porter earned a degree in painting from the University of Louisville.... [p. 255] He searches for added visual complexity, having discovered during the sixties "a richer vocabulary' based on subtly changing conic sections. Especially important to him are the aesthetics of... posted by Donald at December 19, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Friday, December 18, 2009


The Role of the Art Museum is ...?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- What is an art museum for? The potential answers to that question can be framed in terms of, among other things, comprehensiveness and specialization. The notion behind being comprehensive is that the museum should serve its home area by providing examples of many kinds of art from many places and eras. From this, the public in general and art students in particular can view a large variety of works of art in person, rather than vicariously via photographic images of the original objects. For example, such images never quite convey the nature of brushwork in paintings; it's very helpful to see the original painting if one wishes a good understanding of it. Specialization is a concept bearing a twinge of elitism, snobbery and competitive triumphalism. (These can be good things, despite their bad reputation in common usage. It depends on the circumstances.) The result for a museum taking this path is that it can claim a "world-class collection of Ming Dynasty vases," "the largest assemblage of paintings by Vermeer" or some other bragging right. A prime example of a specialized museum is New York's Museum of Modern Art. Buffalo's Albert-Knox Art Gallery has been in the news because it is deaccessioning parts of its collection to raise money to buy contemporary art. I think this is okay, but only where there are plenty of other decent art museums nearby. This is the case in New York, London, Paris and even smaller places such as San Francisco. If yours is the main museum in town, I'm not so sure it's wise to specialize. Consider the Honolulu Academy of Arts, housed in a fine old building designed by noted architect Bertram Goodhue. Honolulu was a pretty small place until 30 or 40 years ago. There is an art museum operated by the state, but not a lot else. Plus, the Academy has art classes as part of its program. The result is that the Academy displays a small, but pretty comprehensive assortment of paintings. As best I can tell, none of the Western ones fall into the Masterpiece category. But they do offer the student and the interested viewer a useful spectrum of original works. When I visited the museum earlier this month, I noted paintings by the following artists: Raeburn, Thomas Lawrence, Romney, Boucher, Gauguin, Bonnard, Cézanne, Van Gogh, Redon, Delacroix, Courbet, Pissarro, Monet, Picasso and Braque. There were others, but I failed to jot down their names -- there might have been a Modigliani, for instance. A small museum doing a nice job. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 18, 2009 | perma-link | (11) comments

Tuesday, December 8, 2009


A Gehry Encore En-Corpse
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- It's in Las Vegas. I drove past it a couple of weeks ago. And what is it? Architect Frank Gehry's latest, an institute dealing with brain disease; more info here, and a wordless take by John Massengale here. There's one thing about the structure that makes me curious: what will the interior be like once it opens for business. Gehry, in my judgment has become the sorry victim of his apparent compulsion to be "creative" at all costs. This architect needs help or, failing that, instant retirement before he does more visual damage. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 8, 2009 | perma-link | (18) comments

Sunday, December 6, 2009


Vanished Buildings Seen
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- There are a few benefits of getting older, but not all that many. One can be a pretty good degree of savoir-faire in the literal sense of knowing how to function in the world; it's the obverse of being a teenager. Another is the bragging rights (such as they are) of saying that one has seen certain sights that are impossible for younger folk to view. I was having coffee yesterday with a 2Blowhards commenter and we yakked about Japan. Afterward, it popped into my head that I should have mentioned having seen a certain building during my hikes around Tokyo many years ago. Expanding on that, herewith are three important buildings I've viewed that haven't existed for more than 40 years. Gallery Pennsylvania Station - New York - waiting room A Pennsylvania Station remains, but it's what was left after the above-ground part of the original building was scraped off. I was there in the early 1960s when it was a lot dingier than the early photo above indicates. As a result, at the time I didn't appreciate it as much as I suppose I should have. That's how things go sometimes. Singer Building - New York Little known today, the Singer Building was, briefly, the tallest building in the world. It had an odd, bulged top that was distinctive, if not exactly distinguished. Again, I saw it during its final years and it simply struck me as being old and funny looking. Now I wonder how it might look had it been preserved and restored to a bright, shiny state. Imperial Hotel - Tokyo - by Frank Lloyd Wright This famous Wright building definitely attracted my attention and I tried to walk through it whenever I was in its neighborhood -- across the street from MacArthur's former Dai-Ichi headquarters and across the moat from the Imperial Palace where Hirohito hung his hat. I felt its loss far more than the other two. Even in this age of historical preservation, some architecturally important buildings don't survive. Readers are welcome to chime in about missing ones that they've witnessed. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 6, 2009 | perma-link | (9) comments

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


Satisfying Painting at Pebble Beach
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A little while ago I wrote about what I called "satisfying paintings" -- works that were nicely done and that are a pleasure to view. And a few years ago I wrote about Pebble Beach and posted the following photo of the lounge at The Lodge at Pebble Beach (which overlooks the famous 18th hole). Lounge, The Lodge at Pebble Beach Note the painting on the back wall. It's one of several in the Lodge. The artist is Jerry Van Megert (b. 1938). I haven't found much about him other than he was originally from Oregon and does portraits as well as California coastal scenes such as those on display at Pebble Beach. Here is a slightly cropped photo of the painting noted above. The original is quite large, but my photo for once conveys a pretty good sense of it. I'd like to show more works by Van Megert, but information about him on the Web is sparse indeed, if my Google and Bing searches are any guide. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at November 17, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Monday, November 16, 2009


Neiman's Interior Space
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- My gut reaction is that modernist architecture is often ill at ease with grand spaces. Sure, it's easy to whip out t-square, triangle or architectural design software and simply specify a space for contractors and workers to actualize. The tricky bit, so far as modernists go, is humanizing such spaces. That requires making use of (ugh!!) decorative elements. One solution is to combine modernism with explicitly classical details. Consider the restaurant and entrance atrium of Neiman Marcus' store by Union Square in San Francisco. Here are photos I took a few weeks ago: Restaurant level Looking down at entrance by Union Square The site of Neiman Marcus for many years was the location of the City of Paris store that eventually became cited as an architectural landmark (details here). After City of Paris closed, Neiman Marcus razed the structure and replaced it with the present building. The centerpiece of the City of Paris was a dome with a glass image of a sailing ship, and this was restored and incorporated in the corner of the new building facing Union Square. It can be seen in the top photo, above. As the lower photo indicates, classical details are included at various levels of the atrium. Although I remember seeing the City of Paris building, I can't recall having been in it. So I have no opinion regarding whether or not it should have been preserved. The Neiman Marcus building is blah on the outside and okay-retail-space inside. Except for the Union Square corner shown above. That bit I like a lot. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at November 16, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Thursday, November 12, 2009


Sacred Art Rumblings
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- 2Blowhards friend Nikos Salingaros alerts me that there has been issued "an appeal for the Catholic Church to return to human and spiritual values in its art and architecture. If it works it will be a revolution, since the Catholic Church is a big sponsor of the Arts. It might also shake up the nihilistic cult that now controls the Arts." An article describing the situation is here. And a website Nikos linked to in his email is here. Pope Benedict XVI is scheduled to meet with artists on 21 November, and the appeal was issued with that meeting in mind. I'm not familiar with the current state of sacred art, but gather from Nikos' email that it might have slid into the postmodernism we see daily in venues from art galleries to magazine illustrations. At any rate, I'm not sure what to make of this given that we are more than a week away from the meeting and Benedict either will or won't heed the appeal. And should he heed it, there is a question of whether he will heed some or all of the points it makes. Should Benedict decide to become involved with the matter of sacred art, I suspect there will be a large outcry from many corners of the art community. And given the recent history of hostility to the Roman Catholic Church by news media, I further suspect that coverage of the Pope's actions will be pretty negative. So we shall see what 21 November brings: nothing, a media firestorm, or "something completely different" as the Monty Python troupe would put it. As for me, I think the Church has every right to do what it wishes regarding its art even though the process might prove to be a public relations problem. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at November 12, 2009 | perma-link | (9) comments

Friday, October 30, 2009


American "Orientalism"
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I noted in some previous posts that I visited the Guggenheim Gallery of Western Art, part of the Buffalo Bill Historical Center in Cody, Wyoming in September. It's an impressive complex in what is considered the eastern gateway to Yellowstone National Park. Its Web site is here, and an article about its recent re-installation is here (caution: this page might take a while to appear). No surprise, what ties all the paintings and sculptures together thematically is the West -- that generally dry part of America extending from about the 100th meridian west to the Cascade and Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. Subject matter is landscapes, explorers, white settlers, the U.S. Cavalry, cowboys and other subjects. A major subject of Western artists from Montana to Arizona is American Indians. Below is a painting in the Guggenheim's collection. "Contemporary Sioux Indian" by James Bama - 1978 I wrote about Bama here. He was a Brooklyn kid who had good success as a commercial illustrator in New York. In the 1960s he pulled up stakes and went to the Cody area where he transformed himself into a Western artist. (Some illustrators made similar transformations when the market for magazine illustration dried up; others moved to portraiture and other fine arts areas.) Recently it suddenly dawned on me that the fascination American Indians hold for some American artists is similar to that of Orientalism for Europeans. As this Wikipedia entry demonstrates, the term "Orientalism" has different meanings to different observers. For our purposes, I'll restrict it to the label applied to a painting genre popular in the 19th century and a while beyond. From Napoleon's invasion of Egypt until the French gained control of Morocco, Europe became increasingly involved in affairs of North Africa and the Near East, ultimately controlling all that territory save post-Great War Turkey. In the wake of diplomats, businessmen, gunboats, European pashas and colonial administrators came artists who painted scenes of souks, harems, oases and whatever else struck their fancies. For example, a major artist who devoted a large share of his output to Orientalist subjects was Jean-Léon Gérôme. Some people become greatly fascinated with other cultures, though usually not to the point where they "go native." Gérôme and his friends would happily scoot off to Algiers or Egypt for months at a time but always returned to the comforts and pleasures of Paris. One reason they fixed on North Africa and the Near East was because those areas were indeed near. China was out there and so were India and Japan. A few European painters traveled to those countries in search of exotic subject-matter; but the exotica of the Orientalists was closer at hand. Given this, I'll hypothesize that American artists attracted to different cultures don't need to undergo the hassle and expense of flying off to Bali, Bhutan or Bangkok to find exotic subjects. All they need do is move to Great Falls, Cody, Taos, Sedona and similar places to paint the... posted by Donald at October 30, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Saturday, October 24, 2009


Action! ... Camera! ... Paint!!!
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I bought a copy of this book hot off the press due to my curiosity about how artists go about their trade. That artists have been using cameras as a working tool since the days of the French Impressionists (think Degas) is no longer much of a secret. Commercial illustrators were no exception, probably being the most intensive users because of the need to economize on model's fees and meet deadlines. Norman Rockwell did use models for the first 20 or so years of his career but then eased over to using photographic references and even projectors as tracing aids. He seems to have thought this shameful at first ("Real artists don't do such things! You have sinned!!"), but eventually became a skilled and enthusiastic photographic director. (He would plan his painting, locate appropriate costumes and props, carefully recruit models from around town and then supervise the posing. In almost every case, however, another man would actually snap the pictures.) Rockwell went to such pains because his artistic nature was that he could paint well only what was before him. Apparently he even found it difficult to make a major color change from what a model was wearing. Perhaps for this reason all of his thousands of reference photos were in black and white, not color. Due to a fire that destroyed his Vermont studio, most of the early photos are gone. It would have been interesting to see how his transition from live models to photos evolved. By the time the book is able to pick up the matter, Rockwell took (as the auteur) lots of photos of bits of the final painting and used the ones that best suited his needs. In other words, if a scene had more than one character, he might have separate photos of the models and even detailed photos of faces, hand poses, and so forth. In later years he sometimes would have complete scenes photographed. The charm and intrigue of the book is its juxtaposition of reference photos and final paintings or reproductions of Saturday Evening Post covers (probably in cases where the original art was lost). The book was created in conjunction with an exhibit at the Norman Rockwell Museum. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 24, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


N.C. Wyeth: A Close-Up View
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Have you ever had the opportunity to examine original illustration art by N.C. Wyeth, one of the most famous American illustrators of the early 20th century? You probably have that opportunity if you live in the Philadelphia-Wilmington region because Wilmington's Delaware Art Museum and the Brandywine River Museum in Chadd's Ford, Pennsylvania have examples of his paintings. For those who haven't seen a Wyeth "up close and personal," it can kinda sorta be done on this here Internet thingy! The Buffalo Bill Historical Center in far-off Cody, Wyoming devotes a wing to the Guggenheim Gallery of Western Art which has a few N.C. Wyeth items in its collection. Better yet, the museum's web site allows viewers to examine paintings in detail. Of course it's not the same thing as seeing a painting in person, but the results aren't bad at all, as I can attest -- having visited the museum recently. Here is a circa-1911 Wyeth painting of men encountering a bear; it later was art for a Remington Arms advertisement. Click on the link and wait for a few seconds, as the image will take a little while to build. Once it's in place you can enlarge it considerably and move the image frame around to suit your interest. If you're curious about Wyeth's work from his prime years (roughly 1905-1920, in my opinion), you can zoom in close enough to view small areas of color. And, like me, you will probably notice that areas that generally appear "warm" (reds, oranges, yellows, etc.) have bits of "cool" (blues, violets, blue-greens) colors visible. The reverse is true for cool areas. Also check out the brushwork on the foreground hunter's boots. This can be a real educational opportunity for those who are interested in the craft of painting. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 20, 2009 | perma-link | (1) comments

Monday, October 12, 2009


WSJ Reviews Industrial Design Books
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I entered college as an Industrial Design major (later switching to Commercial Art), but don't follow the field especially closely. Its exciting days of legitimacy-seeking and eventual acceptance are long past. Even so, I was interested when I spied "The Shape of Things to Come," a book review article by David A. Price in the 9 October edition of The Wall Street Journal (a link is here). Price covers three books dealing with industrial design and product innovation. The first is by Tim Brown (the CEO of the IDEO firm) with the title "Change by Design". Among Price's comments are: Mr. Brown also argues for companies to become more designer-like by increasing their use of prototypes to test ideas. Prototypes, even quick-and-dirty ones, shed light on how a concept will meet real-world needs. He recounts IDEO going so far as to mock-up an entire hotel lobby and guest suite to help Marriott ponder the needs of extended-stay business travelers. Mr. Brown argues even more emphatically for the close observation of users in their natural habitats. Traditional market-research tools—focus groups, surveys -- rarely produce breakthrough findings, he claims. IDEO and others follow users around -- making video recordings of them as they go about their routines, recording conversations with them—to build an understanding of what they really need. Hate to mention it, but these practices are nearly as old as the industrial design hills. I happen to be re-reading industrial designer Henry Dreyfuss' classic book "Designing for People" (first published in 1955) and he deals with these very topics of prototyping and field research in chapters three and four. The second book reviewed is by Hartmut Esslinger, founder of frog design (yes, that's "frog design" -- all lower case) whose book is "A Fine Line". The frog design firm is perhaps best known for its work for Apple and its design perfectionist leader Steve Jobs. Price dismisses much of the book as self-promotion, but allows that: Eventually, though, Mr. Esslinger sets out some provocative ideas. He thinks electronics products like mobile phones, cameras and medical sensors should have modular, open architectures -- like the cards that plug into desktop personal computers -- allowing customers to pick the sub-assemblies they need. Agreed, that is an interesting idea. My cell phone and digital camera each have scads of features I'll never use, a factor in complicating their operation. The third review deals with Roberto Verganti's "Design-Driven Innovation" . Roberto Verganti holds that product development should be grounded not in the data of survey-takers or the observations of anthropologists but in the judgment of executives. "We have experienced years of hype about user-centered design," he says. But breakthrough innovations, in Mr. Verganti's view, do not represent what customers knew they wanted. Rather, the most profitable innovations are those that create a radically new meaning for a product. ... Mr. Verganti suggests that companies form relationships with "interpreters" -- individuals and organizations looking at settings similar to the one... posted by Donald at October 12, 2009 | perma-link | (0) comments

Friday, October 9, 2009


Scraping Sky or Scraping Bottom?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- It's time for me to start picking up the architectural slack now that Michael is a part-time blogger. Therefore, I give you Jean Nouvel -- please! Nouvel is is a French architect who has been awarded the Pritzker Prize (in 2008). Last year it was announced that he would be architect for an Eiffel Tower sized skyscraper in Paris' close-by La Défense district. Then there's a proposed 75-story (or maybe 82 or even 85 story -- read here) building he's designing to fit just west of New York's Museum of Modern Art (a favorable article about the project is here, another take is here.) Apparently, enough people have reacted in horror that the City Planning Commission voted to chop 200 feet off its top. I like tall buildings, if they're done right -- as was often the case in the 1920s and early 30s. I don't know enough about the proposed Midtown spire to form a strong opinion, but its neighborhood already has plenty of tall buildings of questionable aesthetic quality, so what's wrong with dumping yet another into the mix? Actually, my main reservation is that it might be a little too close for comfort to the old RCA Building in Radio City (I love using those archaic names!). The proposed Paris skyscraper strikes me as being a huge mistake. The city already has the despised Tour Montparnasse. Existing La Défense high-rises are not terribly obtrusive, but something about as tall as the Eiffel Tower would be as unsightly as the Montparnasse structure. I haven't heard if the Paris building is still set for construction; when I was in town in May, I saw no sign of it. Better-informed readers are encouraged to bring us up to date in Comments. Your opinions on both projects as well as about the issue of tall buildings in general are also welcome. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 9, 2009 | perma-link | (1) comments

Thursday, October 1, 2009


Satisfying Paintings
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Not all paintings need be Significant or Provocative, Disturbing, Edgy or other criteria of Importance that might come to mind. As the title of this piece suggests, paintings might be satisfying -- and I see nothing intrinsically wrong with that role. Given their content, still life paintings have an opportunity to be satisfying (however, objects portrayed might conform to the overtly Provocative-Disturbing-Edgy categories noted above). Even more likely to result in soothing, satisfying results are landscape paintings. I'm not a huge landscape fan, but I've been noticing that contemporary artists are cranking out works that I would be tempted to buy (if I had the money) and hang on my wall. Overpass (print) - Marc Bohne Above is an image of a commercial print taken from a painting by Marc Bohne. It seems that his studio is about four miles from where I live, in a converted elementary school where my mother once taught. As it happens, I've never met Bohne, whose web site is here. The above image does no justice even to the poster, let alone the painting. Some objects appear to be painted in a hard-edge style but in fact are a little fuzzy and painterly; you'll just have to track down a full-sized version to discover what I'm talking about. I discovered the print in the waiting area of the eye clinic I go to. Admittedly, waiting for 15 or 20 minutes after your appointment time to be called in for your examination can put your mind in semi-suspended animation, a dreamy state. Nevertheless, the print never fails to fascinate me. The version I see has the caption at the bottom as well as border areas of the image cropped off (the sky cropping improves the result, I think). The coloring is realistic as are details such as the partly-submerged furrows in the foreground -- something common in the fall here in western Washington. The composition is strong, yet intriguing. Much of it converges towards a focal point, yet there is no special focal object -- just a dark clump of trees. Arques-la-Bataille - John Henry Twachtman - 1885 In some respect, it reminds me of the Twachtman painting above, which hangs (well, it did the last time I was there) in the Metropolitan Museum or Art in New York. Although it doesn't show well in the reproduction, this painting has (for Twachtman) a strong composition using horizontals and slants. In those respects, Bohne's painting echoes it. Another artist whose work I've noticed recently is Romona Youngquist whose paintings can be found in an Eastside gallery hereabouts and elsewhere. Her page on the gallery's site is here; scroll to the bottom for biographical information. Below are example paintings also shown in the above link. The titles are ho-hum, but the works themselves are -- guess what? -- satisfying when seen in person. Sweet Summertime Endless Summer Changing Season What I find a little bit interesting is the similarity of results... posted by Donald at October 1, 2009 | perma-link | (7) comments

Monday, September 28, 2009


Sixth Avenue, Remembered
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Aging cusses such as me won't be around forever. That's why I like to post How It Was articles here from time to time. Just for the record, understand. [Clears throat, fiddles with notes, casually leans on lectern] Today's subject is New York City's Sixth Avenue, alias Avenue of the Americas (you can read about the name business along with other info here). As this Wikipedia entry indicates, Sixth Avenue was the site of an elevated railroad from the late 1870s to the late 1930s, when it was replaced by a subway line. Sorry to report that I wasn't around during the "El" era, so I can't categorically assert that the street level was a typical "almost dead" retail zone found below elevated lines. But it probably was. When I first saw it in the mid 1950s, the classiest frontage was that of the Radio City Music Hall on the backside of Rockefeller Center. There might have been one or two other theaters nearby, fronting on side streets. In 1962 I was stationed in the Army just outside the city and got into town almost every weekend from late January till mid May. By that time, Sixth Avenue was entering its great transformation phase. The new Time-Life building (the second in a continuing series of Time structures) across Sixth from Rockefeller Center had been completed. At the time, much was made of the claim that it was really part of the Center. Technically (or legally) that might have been so. But to me, at least, it was not part of the center in the sense of its location and its architecture. Time-Life Building - completed 1959 So far as I can tell, the main link of Time-Life to earlier phases of Rockefeller Center is the use of gray stone facing that can be seen in the photo above. But the large window areas and spandrels effectively removed it from the character of the Center's earlier buildings that had narrower windows/spandrels and a touch of Art Deco trim. The rest of Sixth Avenue from 42nd Street to near 57th was in that state of suspended animation found where properties are being or have been assembled for major developments -- in this case, for massive skyscrapers. Shop leases were running out and tenants were beginning to vacate. Maintenance and repairs to existing low-rise masonry buildings were kept to an absolute minimum in anticipation of razing. Aside from Time-Life and the Music Hall, Sixth Avenue was a dreary, ratty zone. I remember that I seldom tarried there when walking west from glitzy Fifth Avenue to the Times Square area bright lights, and ditto when heading east. What many current Manhattanites and visitors probably don't realize is how low-rise Midtown was in the mid 1950s. There were few really tall buildings along Sixth and the Times Square area as well. Park Avenue was lined by moderate-sized masonry-clad buildings, the exceptions being the Waldorf-Astoria hotel and the shiny new... posted by Donald at September 28, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Sunday, September 27, 2009


Are Sculptors Long-Lived?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Inspired by the self-glorification of certain political personages in Washington, D.C. and some of the manifestations of adoration undertaken by followers, I've been doing some reading about art in 20th century totalitarian countries. A book I just finished is Peter Adam's 1992 Art of the Third Reich. His chapter on German sculptors active in the 1930s caught my attention because of the life-dates he cited for them and a few others whose work influenced them. They are listed below with the approximate age at death in square brackets. (Ages at death are based on subtracting the birth year from the death year. That means some of the cases are overstated by one year. I did this for consistency because I wasn't sure I could easily track down life dates for all the Germans. In any event, the picture presented isn't seriously affected by my shortcut.) Georg Kolbe (1877-1947) [70] Karl Albiker (1878-1961) [83] Arno Breker (1900-1991) [91] Josef Thorak (1889-1952) [63] Adolf Wamper (1901-1977) [76] Kurt Schmid-Elmen (1901-1968) [67] Rudolf Belling (1886-1972) [86] Ernst Barlach (1876-1938) [62] Wilhelm Lehmbruck (1881-1919) [38] Fritz Klimsch (1870-1960) [90] Richard Scheibe (1879-1964) [85] Josef Wackerie (1880-1959) [79] Bernhard Bleeker (1881-1968) [87] Arnold Waldschmidt (1873-1958) [85] To spice things up, I'll add a few sculptors whose names are familiar to me: Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) [77] Aristide Maillol (1861-1944) [83] Daniel Chester French (1850-1931) [81] Lorado Taft (1860-1936) [76] Augustus Saint-Gaudens (1848-1907) [59] Paul Manship (1885-1966) [81] Constantin Brancusi (1876-1957) [81] Alexander Calder (1898-1976) [78] Alberto Giacometti (1901-1966) [65] Seven of the 14 German sculptors lived 80 or more years and so did four of the other nine. The only sculptor following the Caravaggio, Toulouse-Lautrec, Van Gogh pattern of dying before age 40 was Lehmbruck. What we have here is nothing more than a factoid, something true so far as it goes. A thorough study of the longevity of sculptors would be grist for, say, a Masters thesis. For example, a universe of sculptors would have to be defined in some measurable way. A basis age would have to be selected so that comparisons with populations at large using mechanisms such as life tables could be made. And so forth. Just for fun, I'll draw a few "conclusions" from the flimsy data shown above. Sculpting didn't seem to be a life-threatening occupation in late-19th century and early-mid 20th century Germany. You'd think that with all the dust, sharp tools, hot metal and the rest of the studio scene, that sculptors could cop an early disability retirement. But apparently not. The non-German group seems to have a somewhat more normal mortality pattern, though the proportion living to 80 is nearly as great. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 27, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Tuesday, September 22, 2009


Bernie Fuchs, RIP
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Bernie Fuchs, one of the greatest illustrators of the 20th century, has died at age 76. I wrote about him here. The Washington Post obituary is here. But if you have time to click on only one link, please click here to read what David Apatoff has to say. Apatoff knew Bernie and was present as Fuchs lay dying. Below are two examples of Fuchs' early commercial art. His style evolved away from what you see. Today, these examples probably don't seem exceptional. But when they first appeared, just like the original Star Wars movie, they seemed sensational. I know, because I was was commercial art major in college at the time. Gallo wine advertisement Story illustration When someone like Bernie Fuchs appears on the scene, it makes one believe there's such a thing as genius. Later, Donald UPDATE: For a reaction from a commercial artist who was too young to have experienced Fuchs' initial impact, here are remarks by Leif Peng.... posted by Donald at September 22, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


Illustration Art in the Middle of Nowhere
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I'm drafting this in Rapid City, South Dakota. Yesterday we checked out the Badlands and, of course, visited world-famous Wall Drug in the town of Wall which is located near the main western entrance to Badlands National Park. Wall Drug is basically a tourist attraction these days, but originated as a tiny drug store in a small town in the early years of the Great Depression. After a few years of struggle, the druggist and his wife came up the the idea of posting road signs offering free ice water for parched travelers. Business improved immediately. After World War 2, their son aggressively expanded the facility to include food service and sales of all sorts of apparel, trinkets of all kinds and food. Today a visitor still gets his free water and can buy a cup of coffee for five cents! Wall Drug is now a block long and thronged with travelers and stuffed with things to buy. I think it's kinda neat, in its oddball way. Something I didn't notice that last time I was there (in the mid-1970s) was a collection of Western (cowboy and Indian) paintings. It's spread through the various dining areas and includes works by famous illustrators along with paintings by genre specialists and a number of items that seem rather amateurish at first glance. There might be more to the latter than meets the eye -- biographical info about the artist or perhaps some historical significance in the painting's creation. For illustration fans, I noticed original illustration artwork by the following artists, among others: N.C. Wyeth, Harvey Dunn (a South Dakota native son), James Avati, George Rozen (pulp covers) and Harold von Schmidt. Ah, the serendipity of travel! Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 15, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Tuesday, September 8, 2009


Painter of the Indistinct
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A few months ago while I was visiting Paris' Musée d'Orsay I noted a few paintings that were drastically different from any of the rest. A glance at the information plaques revealed that they were by Eugène Carrière (1849-1906), whose Wikipedia entry is here. Self-portrait, c.1893 Carrière was born near Paris and raised in Alsace, but left before that area was lost to Germany (he served in the Franco-Prussian war and was taken prisoner, a further war-related humiliation). His art training included the École des Beaux-Arts and study under Alexandre Cabanel. His career began to take hold in the mid-1880s, by which time his subject matter had narrowed to portraiture and domestic scenes, his palette to a very narrow color range and his technique to a generally indistinct effect probably created in part by using a cloth to rub paint off areas of the canvas . One biographical source suggested that the result was so distinctively personal that other painters were hesitant to pursue his lead. Carrière is generally regarded as a Symbolist perhaps because his declarations regarding his art have a misty, spiritual cast. My take, however, is that he was at best a borderline Symbolist; his Symbolism was more atmospheric than actually symbolic. Below is a sampling of his work I found on the Web. Gallery L'enfant malade (The Sick Child) - 1885 Paul Verlaine - 1891 Madame Caerrière Alphonse Daudet and his Daughter Femme en toilette de bal (Woman Preparing for a Ball) The Mothers - 1900 I'm not sure Carrière's paintings can be taken in large doses, though that can be said for many artists. Certainly the works of his that I saw in the Orsay were striking as well as intriguing. If I were filthy rich, I wouldn't mind having a not-so-misty one on a nearby wall. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 8, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Monday, September 7, 2009


Whatever Happened to Casein Paints?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Way, way back -- so many years ago the thought scares me -- I was a college student majoring in commercial art. As I ranted here and elsewhere, I didn't learn much in art school. This was because I wasn't taught much; students to too great a degree were expected to discover things on their own -- not an efficient way to learn a trade. Once I reached my Junior year I began taking courses dealing with my major. For a reason I cannot remember, our color work was usually done on illustration board using casein paints. Huh? you ask. What in the world are casein paints? The Wikipedia entry is here. Other links containing useful background information are here and here. Casein paints are a kind of tempera whose medium is milk-based. As the links indicate, the paints have a distinct sweetish smell and dry to a matte finish. You probably haven't seen them in art supply stores for quite a while (if at all), and neither have I. Because I haven't noticed them, I assumed that no one was making them any more. But the next-to-last link indicates otherwise. I recall that I wasn't terribly fond of caseins, but used them because everyone else did. For one thing, the drying paint tended to curl thinner grades of illustration board. And after I painted large, flat areas, the dried result was often blotchy. Thanks to our general lack of instruction about painting of any kind, it's possible that I never figured out how to properly utilize caseins. I suppose I could give them another try, but I don't think I want to spend the time or money. If I ever do decide to fiddle around with opaque water-based paints, I think I'm most likely to give gouache a whirl. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 7, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Friday, September 4, 2009


Pole Dancing
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Is this Bob Fosse-worthy performance by Australian pole dancer Felix Cane art? Dance? Soft-core porn? Sport? My take: I don't care. I love it, it's amazing, and that's all that really matters to me. Sure is fun to think about the above questions, though. Bonus links: Many more intoxicating performances on video at Felix Cane's website. A "Will porn ever be considered to be art"? yakfest here at 2Blowhards. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at September 4, 2009 | perma-link | (11) comments

Visual Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * I do love looking through a good artist's sketchbook. (Click on "Sketchbooks.") * An inspiring and impressive collection of iPhone photographs by Flickr members. * iPhone Lomography. * Here's one story I wish I'd been asked to report. * Russian illustrator Evegeny Parfenov does very winning variations on that Soviet-heroism look of the 1920s. * Great big jellyfish. * Here's one of the more effective visual illusions I've ever been dazzled and mystified by. (Link thanks to Bryan) * MBlowhard Rewind: An introduction to the wonderful Canadian artist David Milne. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at September 4, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Monday, August 10, 2009


Terence Cuneo, Literal Artistic Icon
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Continuing the discussion of English illustrators specializing in transportation and military art (I wrote about Frank Wootton here), let's consider Terence Cuneo (1907-1996) whose work was so beloved in some circles that ... Princess Royal unveiling statue of Terence Cuneo in Waterloo Station Cuneo's drawing was more accurate than that of Wootton, but he sometimes got more hard-edge detailing into his paintings than suits my taste. Below are examples of his work beginning with a couple of train paintings -- the genre that led to his Waterloo Station statue. Gallery "Flying Scotsman" Steam engine emerging from shop I think it's a shop and not a train shed, but I might be mistaken. Both paintings avoid the excessive hard detailing I mentioned above. Sir Edward Heath Cuneo also painted portraits. I wonder who selected that blue suit -- the artist or Ted Heath himself. "First Air Post" Like Wootton, Cuneo did airplane illustrations. This depicts final preparations for the initial air mail flight by the RAF from England to the continent in 1918. "The Defense of Calais, 1940" Another Cuneo subject was combat scenes. This shows the British army's Queen Victoria Rifles fighting off German attacks on the Channel port that eventually fell just prior to the Dunkirk evacuations. An account is here. "The Snipe Action" (detail) This is a combat scene probably from the North Africa campaign, 1940-43. The quality of the reproduction isn't good, but offers some idea as to Cuneo's skillful, economical brushwork. "Bentleys at Le Mans, 1929" If Wootton could paint Bentleys (see link above), then Cuneo also could and did. The subject is the Bentley triumphant effort at Le Mans in 1929 where the marque claimed the first four places; race results are here. Cuneo and Wootton were contemporaries and in some respects competitors in that there was a fair amount of overlap in their subject matter. Wootton is best known for his airplanes and Cuneo (in Britain, at least) for his trains. From my standpoint, Cuneo is the better all-rounder thanks to his more accurate drawing, though both created very good paintings that made enjoyable viewing for fans of their genre. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at August 10, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Monday, August 3, 2009


Frank Wootton: Getting It Almost Right
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- This obituary in The Independent contains a line asserting that Frank Wootton (1911-98) "has been called 'probably the finest aviation artist of all time' for his depiction of the Royal Air Force in the Battle of Britain and beyond." I'm not sure I concur with that claim even though I've enjoyed Wootton's work since I was high school age or even a bit younger. I have fond memories of leafing through his books "How to Draw 'Planes" and "How to Draw Cars" at the public library. His instructions were pretty skimpy, but the meat of these publications was in the reproductions of his drawings, as we shall see below. I even stumbled on a display of his paintings at the Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. many years ago. That was long before I renewed my interest in art, so I didn't get as much out of seeing them as I would today. Wootton clearly received solid training in painting, especially having to do with the effects of light, shade and color. What he sometimes lacked was draftsmanship. This is particularly true for his aviation paintings: some aircraft are not correctly proportioned. The Battle of Britain For example, in the painting above, the fighters on the left don't quite look right. My guess is that the wingspan is too great. So some of the time he got things wrong, and other times got them right. I'm supposing that he freehanded planes, striving for effects rather than correct proportions and perspective. Wootton was essentially a commercial illustrator who created artwork for advertising while having a parallel career painting commissioned scenes for the Royal Air Force and organizations with a strong interest in British aviation. He painted landscapes and animals for his own enjoyment. I'm presenting his work here because he was a decent and very popular artist in genres I like. Below are some examples. Gallery Captions are descriptive and not the actual ones. Typhoons at Falaise Gap This is an imaginary scene of retreating German army units being attacked by British fighter-bombers in the aftermath of the Allied invasion of northern France in 1944. Wootton does a nice job of depicting German tanks and other equipment. Douglas Bader bailing out Bader is famous because, even though he lost parts of both legs in a pre-war flying accident, he returned to active duty in World War 2, claiming 22 combat victories. Unfortunately, he was eventually shot down, as the painting shows. But (fortunately) he survived and (unfortunately) spent the rest of the war save a few weeks at the end as a prisoner. Car at train station This drawing is from Wootton's book "How to Draw Cars." It's basically a sketch, an impression of masses defined by light and shade. Very nice. Car poster --> Bentleys Here's an illustration of Bentleys at an old car meet. Because it's necessarily more finished, I find it less satisfying than the train station sketch above. Even though... posted by Donald at August 3, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Sunday, August 2, 2009


My Beemer's Bewildering Cockpit
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Some views of the options that my rental Beemer's steering wheel and stalks present: What an excess of bewildering-icon riches, eh? I suspect that somewhere in that thicket of clickers is a button that will take care of paying my electricity bill, and another that will set my DVR to record "American Idol." But which is which? Hey: Of the pictured absurdly-illegible icons, which is your favorite? I'm still trying to choose between (top pic) the "P" that appears to be shouting and (bottom pic) the sorta-clock that seems to be stuck at 11:30. Needless to say: After three weeks of using the car, I'm still iffy where basic turn-signaling and windshield-wiping go. My fault? Or BMW's? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at August 2, 2009 | perma-link | (8) comments

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


Impressionist Rule-Breakers
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- There's the saying "Rules are made to be broken." It neglects to mention that it might be helpful to keep consequences in mind when considering breaking a rule. In painting, consequences can be hard to pin down. Breaking a painting rule might mean -- depending upon which rule it is -- (1) the result will be ugly or odd and the work won't sell, (2) the painting's surface might crack or flake as it ages, or (3) it will be hailed as a courageous, innovative masterpiece. In most cases, painting rules are bent, not broken, and the result isn't especially noticeable. These tend to be cases where the artist isn't paying total attention to what he's doing. But there are times when they are consciously broken if the artist seeks an effect he especially desires. Below are featured two well-known Impressionist paintings containing a violation or two of composition rules. My guess is that the artists weren't paying as much attention to composition as they might have. But it doesn't seem to matter because both paintings are very popular despite technical quibbles. "Girls With a Watering Can" - Auguste Renoir, 1876 Information about this painting can be found here. What's wrong with it? First, the girl is facing to our right and is also centered to the right; compare the distance from a point midway between her eyes to the right and left edges. According to a composition rule, she ought to have been placed left of center so that she would be facing a wider area of canvas. It's a question of visual balance. Given that imbalance, Renoir might have helped matters by placing a tall, narrow object of some sort at the right edge so as to block the passage of a viewer's eyes as they follow the gaze of the subject off-canvas. That would be the schoolbook solution anyway, though there really isn't much room for such a visual barrier. But Renoir helped retrieve things by placing a patch of flowering plants below and to our left of the girl. This creates an upper-right to lower-left diagonal from her head to the flowers, thus restraining eye movement to the right. Axes of the lawn edges to the right of her enhance this diagonal force. "Poppies Near Argenteuil" - Claude Monet, 1873 The Musée d'Orsay web page on this painting is here; it contains only data of various kinds. I might mention that there seems to be no settled English version of the title. One potential problem is that Monet divided the scene into two nearly equal areas, the sky and the ground. (Even splits are not recommended, though Caillebotte once famously got away with it.) The ground area is slightly dominant and the dark trees along the hilltop reduce the sky area some and help the balance. And then there's that odd, oddly-placed tree with the round ball of leaves jutting above the rest and into the sky. Did Monet add... posted by Donald at July 21, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Friday, July 17, 2009


Seattle Squeeze: New Urban Living
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- As is the case in some other parts of the country, Washington state has put considerable effort into legislating and regulating urban growth. In Seattle, zoning revisions for certain areas allow as many as four housing units to replace a single unit. Last Sunday, the Seattle Times' magazine "Pacific Northwest" dealt with the matter. A link to the article is here. I won't extract from the text, simply noting that its treatment was reasonably fair. My main interest is presenting some of the photos from the piece for your evaluation. (The Times describes the writer and photographer as follows: "William Dietrich is a former Pacific Northwest magazine staff writer. Benjamin Benschneider is a magazine staff photographer.") The article deals with, among other things, problems faced by architects working on new high-density single-family and townhouse housing. Presumably the examples I show below are considered to be some of the better fruit of the enforcement of higher density standards. Gallery Judkins Park house of David Sarti A detached dwelling in what seems to have been a back yard. Urban Canyon project - street view Urban Canyon project - court view Urban Canyon project - view from on top Boulders project - court view Boulders project - interior The house I grew up in was on a lot with perhaps a 70 foot frontage and 120 feet of depth. Where I live now is situated on a pie-shaped lot that probably has less acreage, but still plenty of elbow room. I lived nearly 30 years in a house on a third of an acre lot in Olympia, Washington. About nine years were spent in apartments, mostly of the garden variety. Then there were nearly three years in Army barracks. So I'm prejudiced in favor of traditional quasi-suburban housing. That means I wouldn't be hot to move into any of the units illustrated above unless circumstanced dictated it. Mind you, they aren't seriously bad, aside from that former-backyard house -- though I hate the newly-pervasive "industrial" exteriors I see on the Urban Canyon units. I guess my main problem is that these squeezed-in dwelling are neither fish nor fowl, as they say. They're not sensible detached housing. Nor are they honest row or courtyard-facing housing. They're an odd breed of "pretend" housing struggling against the dictates of our betters -- politicians and planners. I am sure many of you will disagree in Comments. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at July 17, 2009 | perma-link | (14) comments

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Ben Aronson's Representational Abstractions
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I wrote here about Ken Auster, who paints mostly cityscapes and restaurant and bar scenes. I like his work (with a few reservations), but there's another artist who also does cityscapes that I like even better. I should add that I haven't seen his paintings in person, instead relying on magazines and the Web. That artist is Ben Aronson (b. 1958) who offers this statement about himself on his website. Please read what he has to say before viewing the sampling of paintings below. Gallery La Marais - 2006 This shows a Paris neighborhood that didn't get Haussmann-ized. What I like isn't so much the ambiance, but instead Aronson's treatment of light on the cars. Many of his paintings include cars with the top-lighting afforded by city streets enclosed by high-rise buildings. Paris Morning, Left Bank - 2007 More Paris, more cars; catnip to a Paris-lovin' car lovin' guy like me. Bay Bridge 1 Now to San Francisco, a city depicted in the Gallery section of the posting on Auster. Compare. While both artists treat detail in a sketchy manner, Aronson's paintings tend to have starker value contrasts and stronger composition. Urban Reflections - 2008 And if you haven't caught on yet, all the Aronson paintings shown here have essentially square formats. Gustav Klimt did the same when painting landscapes. Closed Ramp, West Side Highway - 1997 Oops, here's one that isn't square. It was done a decade earlier than the rest, so perhaps Aronson hadn't settled into his dimensional groove. Note the strong, almost abstract design. Oceanside - 2008 Aronson does people, too. Again the design is strong and, if certain details were omitted, would become an abstract painting. This point is more obvious if you squint or look at it from a distance. The Secret - 2008 Not all of his work is done outdoors. Seems that Aronson can do portraits too, if he sets his mind to it. Nighthawks - 2008 The takeoff on Edward Hopper's famous 1942 painting of a nearly-deserted downtown diner was intentional. Aronson's twisteroo was to place the subjects in a fancy contemporary bar, another overlap with Auster, even down to including a painting behind the bar.. So far, I like what I see in Aronson's work. I notice that he's represented by a San Francisco gallery, so I'll make an effort to stop by when I'm in town later this year to find out if his originals are as appealing as the reproductions suggest. Aronson shows us a way in which lessons from modernist experiments can be used in the creation of paintings that are more representational than not. No resorting to contemporary modernist irony or other in-your-face tricks, either. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at July 15, 2009 | perma-link | (19) comments

Monday, July 13, 2009


We Need the Arts: A Sob Story
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- It says in that panel over at the left that we Blowhards are arts buffs. But as best I can tell, "buff" doesn't translate into art über alles (yes, I know the German word is "kunst"). That's true for me, anyway. Art is nice, there's plenty of it out there and human nature being what it is, it won't disappear even though individual arts might have their ups and downs. Given my warped little philosophy, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that my teeth grind themselves into dust when I encounter people making art out to be more important than it should be while whining that ever more resources must!! be devoted to propping up one favored enterprise or another. What set off this tirade was an article I read in today's editorial page of the Seattle Times, an opinion piece from the 9 July Los Angeles Times by Ben Donenberg, "the founding artistic director of Shakespeare Festival/LA and a member of the National Council on the Arts." The link is to the LA Times site. As usual, I offer some excerpts: [I] recently sent an article to a local philanthropic leader about the importance of helping arts organizations during the recession. I thought he might draw inspiration from it, but that was too optimistic. "I don't need inspiration," he quickly responded. "We aren't supporting the arts; we're supporting essentials." ... Why should we care? Because experiencing and creating art is a crucial part of developing young people who can understand the world's complexity and tackle its problems with a full range of tools. He goes on to mention a project "working with a group of inner-city youths at an overnight community arts camp in the local mountains." They were to create a presentation "inspired by" A Midsummer Night's Dream and the idea was to have them experience a real woods at night. They were urged to explore a variety of artistic responses to the experience. Some wrote poetry; some danced in celebration of nightfall; others sang songs about the moon. One 17-year-old girl was particularly affected by the experience.... As she struggled to find poetry, she shifted her gaze and her flashlight beam between pages of a Shakespeare play and her notebook, filled with words she had carefully crafted. We struggled with her, rejoicing in her awakening even as we felt her pain at realizing that people with more money than she could know nighttime in a very different way. That night in the forest put new colors on the young woman's palette. ... Here's some advice for anyone who has to decide what is "essential" when making philanthropic funding decisions. Some summer night, take time out to look at the sky from someplace really dark. Then try to express -- visually or in words -- what the experience was like. I suspect you'll come to understand why art is essential. Let's see ... a hint of racialism ("inner-city"), sexual politics (the subject... posted by Donald at July 13, 2009 | perma-link | (47) comments

Thursday, July 9, 2009


Ken Auster of the Kute Kaptions
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Ken Auster (b. 1949) is another contemporary painter I'm featuring while taking a break from the 1870-1910 crowd I've been tending to deal with. Auster was and presumably still is a surfer dude, an activity that led to spending years working for Hawaii's Crazy Shirtz company. Ken Auster - 2004 Auster credits his experience in t-shirt design and printing technology for helping his maturity as a painter. Nothing like a little focus and discipline to wipe away that faux creativity, right? At any rate, he eventually set t-shirts aside to settle on the Southern California coast pursuing a career as a fine arts painter and teacher. His Web site is here. An article with some biographical information is here. One of Auster's quirks (from Crazy Shirtz days?) is giving his paintings wry titles. Below is a set that's fairly representative, though the titles aren't quite into the Auster "zone." Check out his Web site or Google Images for more paintings and titles. Gallery Primary Transportation Auster has painted many urban landscapes. This looks like lower Market Street in San Francisco. Guardian II A New York Fifth Avenue scene with the Empire State Building in the background. Island Fever San Francisco's Powell Street with people waiting for a cable car. Counter Culture Auster does people and interiors as well. Last Call Here is a bar scene, a favorite subject for Auster. Knockout Auster painted a number of scenes featuring famous bars with famous paintings in the background. The background painting here is George Bellows' "Dempsey and Firpo" of 1924, the original in New York's Whitney Museum of American Art. Artist Robert Bissett's favorable take on Auster can be found here. Me? I see his paintings from time to time in Carmel-by-the-Sea and find them a noticeable notch above the average for realist-oriented galleries in that artsy town. My only complaint, and it's really in terms of my own taste, is that his work is just a tad too sketchy. But if I had scads of money I'd consider buying one of his smaller works. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at July 9, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


What Might Representational Painters Paint?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Not long ago I wrote about Casey Baugh, a young artist with great skills who, early in his career, has concentrated on painting attractive young women. In reply to a comment, I commented: I am in general agreement that subject matter is a problem for realists (as it is for any artist not dealing in pure abstraction). That's why I hemmed and hawed about Baugh's need for maturity, my implicit thought was that perhaps in the future he could do better than simply creating well-crafted pinups. Until well into the 19th century a painter was basically an illustrator if he wasn't doing portraits, landscapes or still-lifes. So there were templates for acceptable subjects -- from history, religion, mythology, travel incidents and so forth. Today, even representational fine-artists shy away from such subjects, perhaps to their ultimate cost. Exceptions: certain painters doing war genre or events from car races that appeal to a limited clientele. More recently, I posted on another artist, Euan Uglow, prompting a comment from Friedrich von Blowhard, who observed: I still maintain the biggest obstacle to a broad-based revival of traditional art is that mere skill in representation is not enough to get us there; this view ignores the very large amount of theoretical armature that traditional (i.e., Renaissance, Baroque, Romantic) art possessed that has been discarded or taken over by the Modern-Postmodern camp. For example, "representational" artists of the present have abandoned history painting, especially religious history painting displayed in churches (the very core from which all forms of traditional art grew), which has migrated largely into politicized conceptual art and installation art today. I suspect something like the full glories of Renaissance and Baroque painting are only possible if either (1) contemporary realists re-embrace religion or religious history as a serious subject for their paintings or (2) contemporary realists find some other source of serious content that will allow them to make serious statements that communicate to the broader population. Since few representational artists seem to be taking either route #1 or route #2 seriously, the representational revival is all to likely to remain locked in its current ghetto. Fun, but not destined for greatness. Someone please correct me if I'm wrong, but my impression is that commissions for representational easel or mural paintings of historical, religious or mythological events are rare. Elite thinking in the USA holds war to be evil (unless someone on their side wants to fight one), so that rules out battle scenes. Nationalism is also a no-no, so depictions of other historical scenes of the sort common before the 20th century are also likely to be scarce. That same elitist group isn't especially keen on religion (unless perhaps one worships Gaia), so cathedral and church building isn't the growth industry it was in, say, the 14th century and the production of religious paintings follows suit. This suggests that any return to the subjects common from the Renaissance to the Great War will have to... posted by Donald at July 8, 2009 | perma-link | (17) comments

Monday, July 6, 2009


French Style Brushwork
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Tour de France season returns. For a few years I followed it pretty closely. Closely by my standards, I should add; most of the time I pay attention only to who the ultimate winner is. I followed it "closely" when I happened to be touring France myself during the first part of July and wanted to make sure my route and the Tour's route didn't intersect within a couple of days of each other. I mention the Tour de France because of its logo that I was seeing on t-shirts and baseball caps when I was in the country a month or so ago. Here it is: Tour de France logo Thanks to my art background I flatter myself thinking I can "read" shapes, patterns, symbols and their ilk. But I must confess that it took me weeks to realize that the TdF logo is more than words. There's a sketchy image of a bicyclist embedded amongst the lettering. The "o" in Tour and the yellow circle represent bicycle wheels, the "r" in the same word is the cyclist's body and the dot above the yellow circle is his head. Get it? Perhaps one reason I didn't get it was the brushy quality of the lettering which I associate with France. Being hopeless on doing lettering of any kind (a major reason why I decided not to become a commercial artist), I admire even the guys who letter signs in supermarkets announcing the price of carrots. And the free brush style used in the logo is a lot easier than having to mimic an actual typeface, though still beyond my limited ability. In fact, it's very close to drawing. Moreover, there's a loose, brushy illustration style that also strikes me as being French in spirit even if a French artist wasn't responsible. Let's take a look. Gallery Macintosh "Picasso" poster - ca.1984 This is the Apple Macintosh computer marketing image created 25 years ago when it was launched. Some Web sites call the object shown above Macintosh's "Picasso poster." I can't remember if Apple used the same term. But Picasso himself was long dead and someone else created the brushy, sketchy image. I half recall that the artist was indeed French, but don't remember the name. Any Mac mavens to the rescue? Macintosh floppy disk The image wasn't only a poster. That might have been an afterthought because the image adorned Macintosh packaging and other Mac-related stuff including the label on the floppy disk shown above. Macintosh Selling Guide cover The Mac guidebook cover above didn't have the entire drawing of the computer but instead featured a design using just the mouse and its cord. British Vogue cover - December, 1934 Such brushwork was nothing new. Half a century before the Macintosh illustration and graphics we find this December, 1934 British Vogue cover. Vogue cover art - February, 1935 - by Eric An example from a few months later is this American Vogue cover... posted by Donald at July 6, 2009 | perma-link | (9) comments

Sunday, July 5, 2009


Euan Uglow, Painstaking Painter
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A couple of weeks ago I noticed this book at the local college book store. For the paltry $125 price I could glean the life's work of an English painter I'd never heard of. Of course that made me curious. Even his name -- Euan Uglow (1932-2000) -- promotes head-scratching. Okay, the first name seems to be an alternative spelling of "Ewan." But the last name? I'm not at all sure how it's pronounced, partly because it doesn't look British. Might it be Russian "Ooo-glov?" Or an anglicized "You-glow?" Perhaps one of our readers from the Ancestral Isles might chip in to help this befuddled Yank.* Regardless, Uglow rates a Wikipedia biography that can be found here. It seems he was greatly influenced by his training to create spare paintings of meticulously measured subjects. This measurement was so important that tick marks are left on some of the completed works. One result of this taking of pains was a small lifetime production of paintings; he taught art to help earn a living. According to the Wikipedia article, interest in Uglow has been increasing. Not all that interest is favorable, as this Guardian review indicates. It's from the 8 July 2003 issue, written by Adrian Searle. The page is slow to build and might disappear some day, so I excerpted some of the most pointed bits: He was a figurative painter of what has been called the School of London, and his reputation was built on hard-won images, on relentless looking and describing. His art was founded on empirical measurements, on constant revisions, on a technique that was anything but flashy. His paintings bore the imprint of his repeated returns to the minutiae of observation. ... Uglow was a student at the Slade of William Coldstream, whose own life paintings had about them a chilling air of self-denial, and Uglow went on to develop Coldstream's approach through his own years of teaching in the same art-college life room. To me, it always smelled like a death room; every year a new crop of belated Euston Road painters would emerge from it, their pallid painted figures nicked with little registration points and tiny painted crosses, like so many torture victims, done-over in shades of umber and grey. A style like any other, this was and is a look masquerading as a moral quest. About it all hangs an air of futility, and a sense of something murdered.... Uglow's own paintings are, on the other hand, often colourful, but it feels like studio colour rather than the uncontrollable colour and light of the world. His blues are always the same blue, the reds and pinks invariably mixed from the same base hues, whether he is painting skin, the studio floor tiles or the decorated facade of a church in Cypress. Not that Uglow ever used much paint in any case. Like so much else in his art, touch is suppressed and pleasure is deferred. In the end,... posted by Donald at July 5, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


Bubbles, McMansions
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * What role did the ventromedial prefrontal cortex play in causing the current economic crisis? * Have Americans fallen out of love with McMansions? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at July 1, 2009 | perma-link | (30) comments

Tuesday, June 30, 2009


Instructions for Drawing What Doesn't Exist
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- If you wanna draw or paint faeries -- what you read about in childrens' stories -- then here is a book for you. How about wizards, witches and warlocks? Check here. Or here if you need dragon-drawing help. On the other hand, if a commission for a portrayal of goblins, orcs and "other dark creatures" flies over the transom, then you might want to get a copy of this book. As nearly as I can tell (you might disagree), there are no such things as faeries, witches, warlocks, dragons, goblins and orcs. So painting them plein-air or posed in the studio might prove frustrating. Thank goodness those books exist and can come to the rescue. What I find interesting is that there is enough agreement about the appearance of non-existent creatures that such instruction books are possible. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 30, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Sunday, June 28, 2009


Casey Baugh: A Really New Realist
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Yes, I'm aware that I've been tending to write about artists active 50-150 years ago and largely ignoring artists who are alive and painting or who departed fairly recently. As a corrective, I'll do some postings about painters whose work I see in magazines such as American Artist, American Art Collector and Art of the West. The downside is that I've seen little or none of their work in person and mostly rely on reproductions in those magazines or on the Web. That's because their paintings are mostly in the artists' studios, private collections or art galleries rather than in major museums. (Note to self: compile a list of artists and their main galleries and take it along on future trips to California, Arizona and New Mexico. Galleries here in the Seattle area mostly skew modernist.) The subject of the present post is Casey Baugh, a guy still in his twenties who has impressive technical skills. His Web site is here. An article about him containing useful background material is here. Below are examples of his work. All show women, but he sometimes paints men; dig through his site to find examples. Gallery Ambiance Interesting use of cool light on the subject's hair and body planes. I find the treatment of the oriental rug impressive: compare to the rug in Sargent's The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit. Blue Earring Kate Red Scarf This is a demonstration painting. A report on the demonstration is here. Most demonstration paintings I'm familiar with tend to have an unfinished look that's understandable, given the circumstances of their creation. Baugh brought the subject's face to a considerable degree of finish. This also shows that he doesn't painstakingly copy photos -- or doesn't need to, anyway. This guy's skill seems to be for real. Nonchalant As well as any, this illustrates Baugh's practice of creating smooth faces while leaving backgrounds and clothing treatment looser, more "painterly." Shades of Yellow Erubescent I think it's safe to conclude that Baugh can create knockout babes. But he's young enough that it's hard to tell how his work might evolve. For instance, he might simply become another Pino, who I wrote about here, an artist of high ability who tends to crank out similar works year after year to make a good living. As I've stated more than once, artists need to make livings just like the rest of us, so I don't get very bothered when I see similarity across works: one often has little choice but to paint what sells. If an artist is fortunate enough to attain a good income stream, I think it might be nice if he'd once in a while, on his off-hours, try something different. Many artists probably do just that, except those "private" paintings usually don't get seen in public. So we have no way of telling whether Pino and Baugh are beavering away on new styles, themes or whatever they might potentially be up to.... posted by Donald at June 28, 2009 | perma-link | (11) comments

Wednesday, June 24, 2009


Textures of French Buildings
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A favorite sport hereabouts is bashing modernist architecture, which we do for reasons that make good sense to us, at least. Much of that glass 'n' reinforced concrete 'n' metal cladding strikes us as pretty sterile and not people-friendly. Aside from one brief jab, the focus of this posting is on an alternative: buildings and townscapes with lots of visual interest due in part to materials and ornamentation that creates a textured surface -- usually with a partly random pattern or effect. The following photos were taken on my recent visit to France. For starters, this is the ground floor lobby of the Centre Pompidou in Paris, the museum devoted to art since 1900 or thereabouts. It's large, and the smooth, concrete floor sets the tone. Does it give anyone a warm, fuzzy, welcoming feeling? And this is part of the exterior. Perhaps having been inspired by a shirt emerging inside-out from a clothes dryer, we see here the architectural concept of placing much of the "mechanical" bits on the exterior. The result is textural in its way, so I give Renzo Piano credit for trying even though I loathe the thing. Since we're in Paris, let's check out the area above one of the entry door sets of the Notre Dame cathedral. Note the decoration on the indentation from the outer wall to the entry door plane as well as the relief sculpturing above the doors. It contrasts the plain wall, so that surfaces play off one another. This transition zone could have been simplified, but I'm not sure if that would have been better than what we see in the photo. This building on the rue de Rennes always intrigues me thanks to its odd, Art-Nouveau tower on one corner. The little balconies by the windows and other details provide surfaces that keep the eye interested, but not overwhelmed. Here's another big-city building, this in Lyon. It has a "flatiron" plan and is more ornate that the rue de Rennes structure. The bold, horizontal extrusions help clarify the structure and to some degree offset the ornamentation. I don't consider this great architecture, but it's interesting and doesn't bother me so I can't condemn it either. Elsewhere in Lyon is its opera house, shown here. It has been renovated and that shows. At least it contrasts modernist and traditional architecture in one convenient package. However, surface texturing is light in both cases. Dropping a notch in city size, this is Rouen and its famous Gros-Horloge or clock. Yes, it's interesting. But check out the surface materials of the buildings shown in the picture. The one on the left has half-timbering and the next one seems to have wooden shingles. At the right is cut stone with the seams emphasized. The clock tower itself has a smooth, stone surface that contrasts the ornamented clock and its setting. The clock tower in Aix-en-Provence's old town district. Aside from the very top, it lacks ornamentation. Yet... posted by Donald at June 24, 2009 | perma-link | (15) comments

Monday, June 22, 2009


Apatoff on Artists "Selling Out"
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- David Apatoff over at his Illustration Art blog posted some interesting thoughts on artists "selling out" to commerce. You should read the whole thing here. But I can't resist his discussion of Claude Monet, who refused to sell out during hard times early in his career. Instead, he begged and borrowed relentlessly. Eventually, as Apatoff notes: Because he couldn't afford medical care for his family, his wife Camille suffered through a long illness with tuberculosis before dying painfully at the age of 32. Some say she died of pelvic cancer, but others say she died of a botched abortion because she and Monet could not afford to have a third child. Don't think Monet's artistic dedication was compromised by Camille's tragic death; he told a friend that he was interested in the way Camille's face changed color after she died, so he recorded the change in a painting ... Now that's what I call principle. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 22, 2009 | perma-link | (21) comments

Saturday, June 20, 2009


Artist Post Link List (Donald) - 2
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Here is a link-index of my posts about artists as of mid-June, 2009. It updates a list posted early this year. Please let me know of any errors or omissions. Anglada-Camarasa, Hermen Bama, James Bastien-Lepage, Jules Beaux, Cecilia Bischoff, Franz Boldini, Giovanni Casas, Ramon Chéret, Jules Curtis, David (England) Detaille, Édouard Dewing, Thomas Wilmer Edelfelt, Albert Frazetta, Frank Foujita Fuchs, Bernie Gajoum, Kal Gallén, Axel Goldbeck, Walter Dean Grün, Jules-Alexandre Herter, Albert Henry, George & Hornel. E.A. Hohlwein, Ludwig Kline, Franz Lambert, George de Laszlo, Philip Alexius Leffel, David Levitan, Isaak Leyendecker, J.C. Macchiaioli (Italian group) Malczewski, Jacek Mathews, Arthur de Neuville, Alphonse Pino Putz, Leo Schjerfbeck, Helene Serov, Valentin Situ, Mian Sloan, John Sloan, John (update) Solomon, Solomon J. Stuck, Fanz von Thayer, Abbot Handerson Thompson, Tom Tiepolo, Giavanni Battista Vettriano, Jack Vrubel, Mikhail Zorn, Anders This list will be updated from time to time. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 20, 2009 | perma-link | (0) comments

Thursday, June 18, 2009


Architecture and Urbanism Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * New England architect Katie Hutchison conveys an awful lot in one simple sentence when she writes, "To me, residential architecture extends beyond the built structures of our homes to the spaces around, in between, and within sight of them." Now that's the kind of architecture theory I respect and resonate to. Her blogposting is a lovely, short appreciation of a very moving space. Fun to see that Katie is now selling prints and notecards of her photographs. She shows the same love of natural materials and processes, simple and direct experience, and the varieties and qualities of light and color in her photographs that she shows in her building-design work and her blogging. * Large office towers -- that's "skyscrapers" to you civilians -- are doing as poorly in the recession as McMansions are. * Nicola Linza explains beautifully why he's committed to architectural classicism. * What a mess. * Time's Richard Lacayo offers a well-done visual tour through Renzo Piano's new addition to the Art Institute of Chicago. Lacayo is impressed, and for all I know the place works well. But to me Piano's structure looks like a genteel version of a 1960s airplane terminal. Here's a talk with Piano. * Has the building frenzy in Dubai finally come to an end? (Link thanks to Charlton Griffin) * Nathan Origer takes a walk through his beloved hometown and wonders why so many of the newer buildings are so awful. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at June 18, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Detaille was Detailed, de Neuville was Better
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- During my scamper around Paris last month I visited the Musée de l'Armée in the Invalides complex (the Wikipedia entry is here, but is skimpy and somewhat off-topic). The late-19th century display section included a number of works by noted military artist Jean-Batiste-Édouard Detaille (1848-1912) who had a hand in the establishment of the museum's collection; he'd collected a good deal of militaria as reference material for his genre. More information about him can be found here (extremely brief) and here (a little longer, but still sketchy). Among the paintings were impressive fragments from a panorama painted by Detaille and Alphonse de Neuville (1835-85). Notes (in French) about part of this work are here and, with an illustration intact in PDF format, here. Two snapshots I took are below. (The color is way too orange; I need to shop for a camera that does indoor non-flash photography better than my little three-year-old Nikon.) And here is a fragment of the same panorama that I found on the Web. The artists painted two panoramas during 1881-83: the 16 August 1870 battle at Rezonville and the 30 November 1870 battle at Champigny during the siege of Paris. The fragments shown above are from the Rezonville work. More on the panoramas can be found here and here. What impressed me was the "painterly" quality -- simplified, bold brushwork combined with color selection yielding a satisfying image when seen a ways away, important items for murals and panoramas. Some of this can be seen in my close-ups above, though the original art is much better. Detaille was the lead artist on the projects, so I assumed his style dominated the cooperative effort. But after doing a little research, I'm not so sure. Let's look at some evidence. Gallery: Detaille As the pun in the title of this piece and similar comments elsewhere indicate, Detaille is noted more for his precision and attention to detail than to other artistic qualities. Nevertheless, while much of his work is indeed "tight," some is more "free." This shows Napoleon in 1806. It's an example of Detaille's tighter painting style where details of uniforms and equipment predominate. La Salue aux Blessée (Saluting the Wounded) is less tight, probably because the figures are so relatively small that detail became much less important than atmosphere. "Charge at Mosbronn" is an action scene, one of many Detaille painted. Again, thanks to its subject matter, it too can serve as a basis for comparison with Neuville's work shown below. Gallery: de Neuville Titled "Attaque d'une maison barricadée à Vellersexel," we see a free, nearly sketch-like impression of a skirmish's aftermath. Compare the buildings here with those in the Detaille painting immediately above. "La cimetière de Saint-Privat" is an example of Neuville's work that seems more tightly done. But that might be due to its scale: the Musée d'Orsay's web site contains comments on it and his work here along with close-ups of fragments that indicate painterly rather... posted by Donald at June 18, 2009 | perma-link | (1) comments

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


Courbet, Seen Darkly
Donald PIttenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Maybe I was just seeing things. Or maybe not. No doubt many of you have seen reproductions such as the one below of Gustave Courbet's The Artist's Studio. When I visited Paris' Musée d'Orsay a few weeks ago I didn't see all that much of it. That's because it was so darkened -- seemingly darker than the reproductions I'm familiar with including the one above -- that it surprised me. According to this blog (scroll down), the painting was refurbished and reinstalled last fall; their photo of the reinstallation is below. Yes, this recent photo suggests that the painting isn't as dark as it seemed when I saw it eight months later. But for what it's worth, other nearby Courbets struck me as being pretty dark, too. Ditto a Rousseau. So am I wrong? Was the lighting for the painting bad? Is my eyesight failing? Or was the painting always a rather dark affair? Perhaps it originally was brighter and, as often happens, its varnish yellowed it. If so, then why didn't the museum strip off the varnish to restore the original colors? Or were there technical reasons they couldn't? I'm clueless, so I hope a few mavens and recent Orsay visitors will hop into Comments and help me out on the facts and assuage the disappointment I felt that day even if the conclusion is that I have lousy vision. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 16, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Saturday, June 13, 2009


Cherettes -- Postered, Painted and Pasteled
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- For the past century or thereabouts, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec has been the Parisian poster artist most remembered by the public at large and most art followers as well. Poster art fans won't deny Lautrec's place in that field any more than they would that of Art Nouveau master Alphonse Mucha. But they'll likely make the point that they guy who really invented the modern poster was Jules Chéret (1836-1932). He's the tall fellow in the doctored photo above (the original was monochrome, of course, but someone tipped in a color rendition of the Chéret poster in the original, and that's what seems to be at the top of Google image searches). The little man is you-know-who. The Wikipedia biography of Chéret is here. Another site you might want to visit is here. As the linked biographical material indicates, Chéret's posters featured lively girls who became popularly known as "Cherettes". If you happen to view a large number of Cherette posters (and Chéret turned out hundreds of them), they become somewhat monotonous. But that's often the case of you see a collection of any artist's work in a gallery, museum or book. Artists have this strange tendency to create lots of what sells, after all. Besides, posters and paintings are usually intended to be seen in isolation and not as part of a collection. Another consideration about Chéret is that, while advances in lithographic technology made his posters possible in the first place, the results seem crude by today's standards. So just how good might his poster art have been absent technological limitations? Really good. I discovered that while visiting the Musée des Beaux Arts in Nice (its title sometimes includes the words "Jules Chéret" following the main name). Its web site is here; only the French sub-link seems to work, and no works are shown. It seems that Chéret did a lot of pastel work that included studies for posters, and these can be found amongst the displays in a room the museum devotes to him. Also included are some oils and pastel portraits. Not a lot of this can be found on the Web, but I snitched a few to illustrate what I just mentioned. Gallery Let's start with a poster to set the stage and get you in the proper mood. It's for the Folies Bergère featuring one of its stars and not an anonymous Cherette. This is a poster version of a work titled "La Musique" ... ... and this is a pastel version, probably a study for the former. In person it has depth and a vibrancy the poster lacks -- though this distinction isn't so easy to make when viewing digital images as you are now. Yes, it features a Cherette. Here is another pastel. It doesn't seem to be a poster study, but I might be wrong about that. Here is a pastel portrait of Arlette Dorgère (1904). My museum book on Chéret indicates that she "inspira pleusiers... posted by Donald at June 13, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Thursday, June 11, 2009


A Searle Semi-Sighting
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Readers "of a certain age" might well recall the art of British cartoonist/illustrator/writer Ronald Searle (1920-). He was especially prolific during the 1950s and 60s. Influential, too: cartoonists active today have borrowed his way of exaggerating facial and body features. He is perhaps best known as the creator of the St. Trinian's School books that became the subject of comedy films. The girls in that school were nasty, but not nearly as bad as the Japanese guards Searle had to deal with after Singapore surrendered and he and fellow soldiers were shipped north to work on River Kwai type projects. I was a big fan of his and was both startled and pleased to notice the framed, autographed print in the lobby of our Paris hotel (the Fleury, wonderfully situated about halfway between the boul' Miche and the rue Bonaparte on the Left Bank). Searle has lived in the South of France since 1961 and apparently likes the Fleury when he's in Paris. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 11, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


Visual Arts Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * Anarchist and novelist Stewart Home -- I liked his crazy book "Blow Job" -- wonders how long London's Tate Museum (CORRECTION: thanks to dearieme for pointing out that I should have written "London's Tate Modern Museum") is going to last. Funny line: "The art world is part and parcel of the financial world. When high finance catches a cold, local art scenes react as if they’ve got the plague." * "Della Robbia blue" is one of those terms you'll hear in and around the visual arts. Learn a lot about the Renaissance-era, terra-cotta-sculpture-making Della Robbia dynasty in this good article by Roderick Conway Morris. (Link thanks to Charlton Griffin) * Jonathan Glancey praises the Starship Enterprise as a piece of visual design. * Hard not to love a collection of amazing photos of animals. * All in a day's work for a mountain goat. (Link thanks to Charlton Griffin) * David Pogue takes part in one of those Improv Everywhere events. * 78 photography mistakes you should try to avoid making. A very droll -- and useful -- visual posting. * MBlowhard Rewind: I mused briefly about symmetry and beauty. Best, Michael UPDATE: Roissy reacts to a D.C. art show.... posted by Michael at June 10, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Stained Glass Windows, Old and New
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I'm afraid I seldom pay much attention to stained glass windows in cathedrals and churches. But I did when we stepped into the Église Saint-Séverin located in Paris' Latin Quarter. As this Wikipedia entry indicates, the church has traditional windows along with some new ones created by Jean René Bazaine (1904-2001) who, according to the link, did a good deal of work of that kind. One of his Saint-Séverin windows (in an image I grabbed off the Web) is shown below. Since I don't feel qualified to evaluate Bazaine's windows on their own terms, I'll simply mention that they struck me as bland and washed-out looking compared to the traditional windows in the same setting. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 10, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


A Shrewdly Managed Painting Competition
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Back in April, James Gurney posted about the French Prix de Rome competition, the winner of which gained a good deal of prestige along with a scholarship to study art in Rome. You should read the whole thing if the subject interests you (it's well-illustrated). Here are some excerpts to provide the gist: To enter the Prix de Rome competition, you had to qualify by winning the concours d’esquisse, where students composed a painted sketch based on a theme provided by the professors. If you made it this far, you had already been sifted out of a large bunch of aspirants. Then you went on to a captive sketch competition called the the concours de dessin, or ‘en loges,’ (the loge was an area of cubicles, illustrated above.) The finalists were ranked and then sequestered into the little stalls. They were all assigned the same surprise theme, usually from Greek or Roman history, mythology, or the Bible. They were given twelve hours to complete an outline drawing. They could not leave their cubicles, nor could they talk to anyone. (I assume they were given some bread, water, and a chamber pot.) ... When they finished the session, the professor signed and stamped their entry. ... Then the students each were given 72 days to complete their paintings, using the full benefit of models, costumes, and props. But they could not deviate in any significant way from their sketches. ... Success in this competition required the ability to draw figures and compositions from memory and imagination. It also required a familiarity with hundreds of possible stories from the standard myths and biblical texts. What I find interesting is the psychology underlying the competition, assuming that it was a conscious part of the way it was set up. Lots and lots of us are prone to dither and dally when having to commit to something important. We'll keep coming up with ideas -- some bad, some good, some excellent -- but none of them perfect. Thus the process could go on endlessly, barring deadlines. The competition described above had seriously short deadlines and related rules that forced even the most indecisive young artists to come up with one idea and then work out its execution rather than churning and stewing and yielding no result at all. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 2, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Monday, June 1, 2009


Matt and Derb
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Back here, Big Hollywood's Matt Patterson talked to me about conservatives and the arts. Today Matt explores the same topic with John Derbyshire. Best, Michael UPDATE: TownHall's Ned Rice profiles Big Hollywood's Andrew Breitbart.... posted by Michael at June 1, 2009 | perma-link | (11) comments

Thursday, May 28, 2009


Response to Chris
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- My recent treatise about architecture and shadows elicited a few comments from Chris White. Among his points: The park vs. "public space" images [in the posting] make their case as much or more through the choice of camera angles, time of day, weather and temperature variables as by any intrinsic virtues or defects in the spaces themselves. A few responses. Why would I, in a short blogposting, make an effort to undermine my own point? Earth to whoever may be reading this: What we at 2Blowhards often try to offer isn't the "fair and balanced objective truth" but a counterbalance to the conventional wisdom. The conventional architecture-and-urbanism press loves experimental, fashionable, stylish "excitement." I try by contrast to point out the wonders of traditional architecture-and-urbanism. Besides, fair and objective has been done already. From the '60s through the '80s, the sociologist William H. Whyte (together with many research assistants) observed, photographed, filmed, and noted down how real people in real situations make use of public spaces. In 1988, he pulled his work and speculations together in a great book called "City: Rediscovering the Center." It isn't just an interesting and substantial work, it's a joy to read. Whyte was a civilized, sophisticated, and urbane guy with a subtle sense of humor and an amusing way with words. Whyte was a major cultural figure, as far as I'm concerned. Read up on him here. So let's get real. What does common experience tell us? On a sparkling day, walking through a traditional park, is it really hard to snap photos like this one -- or this one? And aren't we all familiar with deserted and off-putting empty spaces? This scene didn't take a lot of effort on my part to notice and snap: Nor did this one: One easy lesson to take from this: Modernism (and its stylistic descendants) can be reasonably conceived-of as "the defiance of common experience." Modernism: Endless experiments based in theory and speculation, very few of which work out. Tradition: Practices based in experience that almost always succeed. Another lesson: If public space is to serve any useful purpose it shouldn't be dealt with as "empty space." It needs to be crafted and created as a positive thing in its own right. But Chris' point continued to irk me. Maybe he was right. How much had I rigged the visuals in my blogposting? Thinking about his challenge while puttering around the SoHo Apple Store the other day, I found myself devising a way to achieve "objectivity" in a minimal-effort way. On my way home I'd be passing through three markedly different public spaces. The first would be stark and high-modernist -- the open space at the base of a couple of concrete apartment towers. The next would be modernist but flossier -- a space that's half a courtyard, half a park and that has been decorated with planters and trees. The third would be Washington Square, a traditional Greenwich Village park.... posted by Michael at May 28, 2009 | perma-link | (33) comments

So Long, Saturn
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Maybe the title of this piece is premature. General Government Motors hasn't officially pulled the plug on its Saturn brand, but might by the time you read this (I'm drafting this posting 15 May). As a car-mad kid I used to draw imaginary automobiles (still do, matter of fact). Pre-high school, I concocted brand names for some of these doodling projects. I recall that, for sports cars, I came up with the name "Siena" which I got by looking at a map of Italy -- Italian sports cars being hot stuff even in the days when Detroit ruled the automobile world. Another imaginary brand was "Saturn" which I selected because the planet of the same name was really cool looking: awesome, even. Many years later, along came Roger Smith who, as GM Chairman and CEO made it his mission to shake up the corporation. As the Wikipedia link above indicates, many of his initiatives worked out poorly, to say the least. One project was a new, innovative small car called the Saturn. The link lays out the history of the brand, so read it for the details; I'll toss in my own take here. My dim memory is that the Saturn was supposed to be something pretty special. Rather than being a GM division, it originally was a semi-separate company that had its own deal with the UAW union as well as a specially-built factory in Tennessee, far from the automobile-intensive Detroit area labor market. The idea was to start with a clean sheet of paper and meld the best of American and Japanese practices. The company had its own dealer network where prices were set by Saturn and there would be none of the horse-trading hassle unpopular with many prospective car buyers. This last point was actually a nice move from a public relations standpoint; I know of a few buyers who considered it key in their decision to buy a Saturn. On the other hand, trade-ins opened the door for horse-trading practices, so I wonder what the buyer experience was under that circumstance. The hype regarding the car itself was less that that for Ford's famously unsuccessful Edsel, but it was enough that I was curious as to whether GM could actually exceed Japanese cars by a noticeable margin. Saturn prototype, 1984, Roger Smith at the left. The first-series Saturn of the 1990s Neither the prototype nor the initial production version impressed me, though they were better than other GM small cars such as the Chevy Cavalier. I test-drove one once, back in the mid 90s, and was even less impressed. In those days, most small cars equipped with automatic transmissions were underpowered, the little motors having to rev away while trying to push transmission fluid to the point where the car would actually move decently. The Saturn was no exception, yet it needed to be exceptional. In recent years Saturn was melded back into GM. The current crop of cars and... posted by Michael at May 28, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Friday, May 22, 2009


Cars 70 Years Ago: Not So Big
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Not long ago James Lileks (his site is here) posted the photo of a Minneapolis building shown below. His interest was in the building's history, mine is different. As the banners indicate, the photo seems to have been taken in 1939. A couple of cars near the center of the photo seem to be 1939 models: the rest are older, as one would expect. Now look at the people near the cars, because they provide scale. Note how short and narrow the cars are. They are typical of the 1930s. Luxury cars such as Packards and Cadillacs were larger (longer, for the most part, but not much wider). By 1970, American cars were quite large, the growth trend having begun to develop seriously when the first redesigned postwar models appeared in 1947-49. I remember that advertisements crowed about six-passenger seating. But even so, a while back I was startled when viewing a parked 1950 Buick Special to notice that it seem narrower than I remembered them. Nowadays, cars come in a larger variety of sizes and types and comparable street scenes should reflect that. Later, Donald... posted by Michael at May 22, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Saturday, May 16, 2009


Big Brother Bucky
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Terry Teachout, inspired by an exhibit about Buckminster Fuller, penned this article for this weekend's Wall Street Journal. As usual, I'll excerpt it in case it disappears from the WSJ site. Was modernism totalitarian? That's coming at it a bit high, but it's true that more than a few top-tier modernists were also one-size-fits-all system-mongers who thought the world would be improved if it were rebuilt from top to bottom -- so long as they got to draw up the plans. Just as Arnold Schoenberg wanted to scrap traditional harmony in favor of his 12-tone system of musical composition, so did Le Corbusier long to demolish the heart of Paris and turn it into an ultraefficient "machine for living" dominated by cookie-cutter high-rise apartment towers. So what if the rest of the world liked things the way they were? Send in the bulldozers anyway! It isn't that these artists were especially bloodthirsty. While some would gladly have sent their opponents to the nearest guillotine, most operated on the rosy-colored assumption that sweet reason would be sufficient in and of itself to usher in a kinder, gentler millennium. I always read that it was the house that would be turned into a "machine for living" but perhaps Corbu someplace or other extended that idea to the city as a whole; it isn't a long stretch to say the same thing about cities. Knowledgeable comments are welcome to set me, Terry, or both of us straight. That aside, modernism was never a cute, fuzzy little way of ordering the world: it was demanding. Later on [after the 1930s] he [Fuller] expanded his vision [from houses, cars, etc.] to encompass city planning on the widest possible scale, going so far as to envision placing a climate-controlled geodesic dome over the whole of Manhattan. If such schemes bring Frank Lloyd Wright to mind, there's a good reason: Fuller was a Wright-like figure, a high-octane utopian who believed in the life-enhancing potential of modern technology. The difference was that Fuller lacked Wright's ruthless determination. He was either incapable of or uninterested in following through on his ideas -- and he was, unlike Wright, the opposite of an aesthete. The Dymaxion Car and Dymaxion House are logical, even elegant, but not truly beautiful, and the closer you look at them, the less attractive they seem. On the other hand, Fuller's ambitions extended far beyond the creation of beautiful cars and houses. Not until the '60s did he find his footing as a public figure, and when he did it was not as a designer but a seer, a prophet of change who believed that "utopia is possible now." ... Not only did Buckminster Fuller think big, but he was sure that the only way to fix the world was by fixing every corner of it simultaneously. "We are not going to be able to operate our Spaceship Earth successfully, nor for much longer, unless we see it as a whole... posted by Donald at May 16, 2009 | perma-link | (24) comments

Thursday, May 14, 2009


Oldest, Firstest, Fake
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * What to make of the world's oldest sculpture? * Was this Michelangelo's first painting? * Is Nefertiti a fake? (Link thanks to Charlton Griffin) Best, Michael... posted by Michael at May 14, 2009 | perma-link | (1) comments

Friday, May 8, 2009


Architecture and Shadows
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Another in a series of postings designed to wake a few websurfers up to elements in the experience of the built environment that are simple, important, and too-often-overlooked. Listen up, America, goddammit. Today: light and shadows. And a fast comparison to kick us off. First, traditional brick and stone: Next, mid-20th century modernism (the UN building, in fact): Ignoring many of the worthwhile observations that could be made about this juxtaposition, for today I want to ask: What's the main difference between the above images in terms of light and shadow? Obvious answer: Traditional architecture-and-urbanism offers loads more in the way of light/shadow delight than modernist architecture-and-urbanism does. Another comparison. First up, some modest tenement apartment buildings: Look at the variety of shapes made here by the light and the shadow. Take note of the way the light and shadows emphasize mass -- those buildings feel solid. Don't let your eyes be shy about taking the ironwork -- the fire escapes -- into account. Those rungs, diagonals, slats, and verticals add a dimension that isn't to be ignored. They remind us not just of the sun but also (because they change so markedly as the day goes by) of the passage of time. You might say that, given the density, touch, and complexity of detail and texture, this view looks and feels like a painting. Now, a brand-new apartment building in the current wobbly / off-kilter mode recently erected just a few blocks away: What's the experience of light-and-shadow here? Not to be coy, let me suggest that the easiest answer is: "None whatsoever." I get "gleam," I register "glassy," and I certainly pick up on "swoopiness." What I don't get is any of this: solid, deep, substantial, calm, organic, complex. The whole structure in fact looks like it was extruded direct from a plastics factory. Or maybe it's a screencap taken off your computer's screensaver. But don't some modernist (and modernist-derived) buildings at least try to take the light-and-shadow thing into account? Sure -- not many, not often, but still. So what's the result? Let's take a look. Mid-20th century modernism: Hyper-recent: There's certainly some contrasts going on here between light and dark. No arguing about that. But what's the effect? What I mainly pick up from these attempts isn't "the human touch," it's "geometrical abstraction." In fact, let me go a little further with that reaction: What I really pick up is "rabid, monomaniacal devotion to geometrical abstraction at all costs." Human? Only if your idea of "human" is Arnold in the first "Terminator" movie. A reminder of something we can all recognize as human: Check out the patterns of light and shadow in that modest row of houses, and let the implications, suggestions, and meanings of those patterns ricochet around your brain a bit. Shelter ... The human touch ... Organic matter ... Evolved, near-biological shapes and forms ... A quick revisit with the values the architectural establishment prefers: The word... posted by Michael at May 8, 2009 | perma-link | (36) comments

Monday, May 4, 2009


Painter's Blasts from a Century Past
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Recently James ("Dinotopia") Gurney posted on British painter Solomon Joseph Solomon (1860-1927 -- Wikipedia link here). Two of Solomon's better paintings are shown below. Ajax and Cassandra - 1886 St. George - c.1906 Diploma Work for membership in the Royal Academy: accepted 1906. Gurney mentions that Solomon's 1910 book about drawing and painting can now be downloaded from this link. (If you encounter problems, an alternative is mentioned in comments to Gurney's posting.) Of course I printed out much the book and popped it into a ring binder for ready reference. At least one illustration seems to have been missing from the copy that was duplicated, but such losses are not too serious. Here are some excerpts that caught my fancy. Charming (if a bit hard to follow sometimes) is his Victorian way with words. Apparently some aspects of painting haven't changed in character in the century since Solomon wrote By the system of apprenticeship that obtained during the Renaissance and in those now regretted days when the decorative arts flourished in Europe, the knowledge of our craft was handed on from master to pupil. Those valuable traditions are to-day but a faded memory; but such is the spirit of the age, that even did the unbroken chain of tradition reach back to the fifteenth century, when oil-painting first came into general use, its sanction would probably be questioned and its teaching neglected. [Page 66] Moreover, Teachers have been too superior, perhaps too uncertain themselves about their craft, to do aught but teach and criticise aesthetically, and have left the student to shift for himself and learn his trade as best he might. [Page 67] This was my experience in the late 1950s. I didn't realize that the rot had started at least 50 years earlier. As for paintings themselves, probably in reaction to the advent of Modernism, he wrote: Let us now inquire into the effect resulting from our oft-recurring exhibitions of painting, and see how they influence the painter. So many of the qualities considered essential by our masters are sacrificed for effect. An obtrusive coarseness is now preferred to the velvety surface of the Dutch masters. Scene painting, effective enough on the stage, and perhaps telling on the great walls of out exhibitions, is taking the place of precious workmanship; and, worst of all, these exhibitions engender a never-ending restlessness and love of change. Anything with which to astonish the native! Fashions in painting come and disappear like Paris hats, so that last year's methods are as out of date as the headgear that went with them. Many bids for fame are made by men who, having nothing to say, invent a new language to say it in, and hope that their jargon may be mistaken for originality, as it not infrequently is by the immature critic and the modish amateur. There is no end to the possibilities of what is known as imagination -- that is, the power to make... posted by Donald at May 4, 2009 | perma-link | (7) comments

Jane on Film
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- A little Jane Jacobs to kick off the week: I wrote appreciations of the great Jane Jacobs back here and here. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at May 4, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Wednesday, April 29, 2009


Obama in Popular Culture
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Has there been a political figure since JFK who has had Pres. Obama's impact on pop culture iconography? Che, maybe? In New York City, Obama's face sometimes seems to be everywhere. You can buy a Warholesque framed portrait from an art gallery: Or you can keep it real, man, and make your Obama purchases on the street: Feeling a little sour? Freshen your breath with an Obamamint: My favorite recent Obama appearance, though, was on the over of a New Age/Yoga giveaway magazine. New Life editor Mark Becker said this in his editor's note: I want to thank my dear friend Peter Max for creating and donating his portrait of President Obama, who I affectionately call Om-Bama, to adorn our cover ... We are living in very exciting time since we finally have a president who realizes what is broken and is willing to go out on a limb and step up to the plate to make these changes to create the America that our forefathers dreamed of. "Om-baba" -- talk about hopeful! Meanwhile, back in the real world, Pres. Obama seems to be carrying on as you'd expect any well-connected, know-it-all, Ivy Keynesian to behave. Here's how financial blogger Doug Henwood -- a lefty who favors nationalizing banks, so don't look at me that way -- evaluates Obama's performance: So far, the Obama administration’s notion of change, when it comes to this bailout, is to replace the Goldman Sachs alum at the top of the Tarp apparatus with a Merrill Lynch alum. Wow, that’s change we can all believe in, eh? Henwood is always worth a read, I find. While I can't get on board with the solutions he favors, his criticisms and observations often strike me as smart and informed. What does Obama represent to some people? Best, Michael UPDATE: A good passage from anti-globalist lefty Naomi Klein: Wall Street funded Obama’s campaign. They funded his Inauguration. They paid huge speaking and consulting fees to some of his closest advisers. What I am calling corruption is better understood as “crony capitalism.” It’s the systematic trading of favors between corporate and political elites to secure wealth and power. And the truth is, most of the time the trading of favors doesn’t even need to be explicit. It’s more that this corporate-political nexus creates an impenetrable culture in Washington, so the hedge-fund managers and bank CEOs are the ones who are in the ears of the Washington policy makers — they are their constituency, their community, the ones saying whether or not a given policy will work. And, of course, the problem is that the voices of regular people are left out.... posted by Michael at April 29, 2009 | perma-link | (32) comments

Sunday, April 26, 2009


Visual Arts Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * Best to think of Picasso as a comic artist? * Tweets and Status Updates become works of visual art. * MBlowhard Rewind: I wrote an intro to David Milne, a lyrical, quirky and underknown Canadian painter. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at April 26, 2009 | perma-link | (0) comments

Vote for the Prince
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- The Prince of Wales: A beneficial or a malign influence on architecture? Go here and vote. I think he's been a wonderful force myself. It's been 25 years since he made his crack about how a certain modernist proposal for London struck him as resembling "a monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend," and he's done a good and persistent job of keeping up the pressure ever since. I also liked "A Vision of Britain," his book in praise of traditional architecture, very much. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at April 26, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Tuesday, April 21, 2009


Yet More on Art, Porn, Erotica, etc
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- I left a comment responding to Peter L. Winkler and Shouting Thomas a few postings ago that I was half-pleased with, so I've dolled it up a bit and am promoting it to its own posting here. Ah, the power of the blog-owner ... The general theme of the discussion was "Will porn ever be accepted as art?" Peter thinks that porn is too function-oriented a thing ever to be considered art. Shouting Thomas volunteered some observations and questions about sex's role not just in art but in reproduction. Peter L.W. -- People don't go to action movies who aren't in the mood for excitement. They don't eat a steak if they aren't in the mood for meat. They don't go to Lincoln Center if they aren't in the mood for a "culture-with-a-capital-C" experience. Wanting a culture/media/whatever artifact that'll suit and/or enhance your mood seems ... I dunno, sensible, likely, unremarkable, and commonplace. So what's different about wanting a culture experience that'll enhance and/or suit a nice erotic buzz? More generally, I think that part of what's happening these days where culture goes is that a certain kind of familiar expectation is being upended. It used to be that we reached out towards the arts, and that we assumed that this was normal and good. The arts were central and eternal; we individuals were transient moths circling the everlasting flame. These days, it's more about using the arts to suit ourselves. Don't listen to what you should listen to: instead, why not create a playlist or Bookmarks collection that suits you? The person and his/her preferences and whims are becoming central, while the art-things are starting to seem come-and-go. BTW, I'm not saying this is good or bad, just that it seems to be happening. If we are indeed entering a universe that's far more "suit yourself" than the old media universe was, that helps explain why porn is becoming more accepted: It's primary among the arts-that-get-used. And if we're comfy with the idea that the arts should suit us and our moods, then many objections to thinking of porn as just another artform dissolve. Incidentally, I'm a little puzzled by people who consider porn and erotica to be nothing but masturbation aids. Does no one else enjoy leafing thru erotic/sexy images, vids, and stories 1) out of curiosity, 2) just for the pleasant dreamy high of it? ST -- I'm all for connecting the arts to the basic urges, and I certainly think that if/when we don't the arts quickly become irrelevant. But this is a cultureblog, not a reproductionblog. Culture after all isn't about bare survival; it's largely a matter of taking basic needs and urges and whipping up artifacts and experiences based on them that have beyond-functional aspects and qualities. Hunger and nutrition, for instance: We could probably survive on dogfood and mulch. But we'd have no "cuisine." Hearing and sound: we could just listen to nature and grunt, but we'd... posted by Michael at April 21, 2009 | perma-link | (58) comments

Monday, April 20, 2009


Prewar Shanghai Architecture
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I've never been to Shanghai and I can't get there. Neither can you. I'm thinking of the Shanghai that ended with the Japanese occupations of 1937 (the Chinese city) and 1941 (the International Settlement and the French Concession). It was a heady mix of transplanted Europe and America plus native China, legal and illegal commerce, an island of modernism in a traditionalist sea. Having spent the better part of year in Asia -- here, actually -- I've seen my share of ox carts, rice paddies, thatch-roofed villages and old, gaudily-painted temples. That Asia is fast-disappearing: except for the temples, perhaps. So do see it if it interests you and you haven't yet done so. Moreover, I'm not strongly interested in seeing the new Asia either. Okay, if someone dropped a seriously cheap tour in my lap, I'd consider going. It's not high on my travel priorities, that's all. But the Shanghai of 1925-35, that would be different. I'm not obsessed with it -- just curious enough to read about it once every few years and wish I had a time machine available so that I might drop by for a few days now and then. A few years ago I read a history of Shanghai for the period 1842-1949 (the year it fell to the Communists) by Stella Dong. An entertaining book, though some Amazon commenters thought it too breezy and sensationalized. My reservation was that Dong (who grew up here in Seattle) relied exclusively on sources available in English. (I lied, actually -- one source is in French, but you get the idea.) A day or two ago I stumbled across a book titled Shanghai Style by Lynn Pan, a Shanghai native who has spent considerable time in Europe and other parts of Asia. Its subtitle is "Art and Design Between the Wars," specifically, 1920-39. Thus far I've looked at the illustrations and read the chapter on architecture and interior decoration. Other chapters deal with painting, books and magazines, comics and cartoons, and advertising. Her thesis is that Shanghai was unique in having a large number of non-colonialist foreigners mixed with a local population largely comprised of immigrants from elsewhere in China who, by that condition, tended to be more receptive to foreign and Modernist ways than most other Chinese. I had fun looking at Shanghai versions of the kinds of European and American cultural artifacts covered in the chapters noted above. Architecture was a bit different because the architects who designed most of the large commercial buildings were European. Chinese architects trained in Europe and in American universities such as Dear Old Penn were also active. Below are examples of Shanghai architecture of that era. And remember that in those days high-rise building were fairly rare outside the United States. Gallery This is The Bund, the commercial heart of Shanghai along the Whangpu River as seen in 1935 or 1936. Most of it was part of the eight-by-two mile International Settlement, though... posted by Donald at April 20, 2009 | perma-link | (7) comments

Friday, April 10, 2009


Little Architecture History Lessons
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- I'm often dismayed by the lack of familiarity many educated Americans have with their country's architectural history. Because they're familiar with the two Franks -- Gehry and Lloyd Wright -- they think that they've got it covered. Hey, America: Architecture-and-urbanism is as big, wild, and wonderful a field as American music. It's seething with geniuses and talents, as well as fab, sexy, and instructive stories about money, ego, and power. Go for it. Side benefit: Once you get the hang of the basics, what we architecture-and-urbanism buffs like to call "the built environment" becomes comprehensible and eloquent. Why, the entire world is an art exhibit! Paul Goldberger writes an excellent introduction to the Chicago Beaux Arts (think Paris-style) titan Daniel Burnham, who gave us New York's iconic Flatiron Building as well as Washington D.C.'s glorious Union Station. Here's a posting from me about Addison Mizner, a larger-than-life fantasist / designer / entrepreneur who popularized the Mediterranean Revival, one of America's most lasting and crowd-pleasing styles. Best, Michael UPDATE: So how is the recession affecting America's love affair with the exurbs? Interesting Fact for the Day: "While an average of 19 new malls per year were built in the United States during the 1990s, not a single new mall has been built in the last two years."... posted by Michael at April 10, 2009 | perma-link | (9) comments

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


Architecture Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * John Massengale gives a mixed review to the Yankees' new stadium. A video tour can be watched here. * Steve Sailer is sensibly funny and disparaging about an expensive new L.A. high school. Many commenters make witty jokes too. The good show left me wondering about something I've wondered about before: Given how much mockery of conventional politics the web has set loose, why aren't we seeing more populist mockery of bad, pretentious architecture? My sad hunch: Most Americans barely register their physical surroundings, at least once outside their own homes. * MBlowhard Rewind: I mused about the roles of utility and evolution in the development of the arts. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at April 8, 2009 | perma-link | (8) comments

Monday, April 6, 2009


Otis Shepard, Who Didn't Gum Things Up
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- When I was in high school and college I'd sometimes go to the Seattle Public Library and thumb through copies of the Art Directors Club Annuals from the 1930s, a truly interesting era for illustration and graphic design. Most of the artists and layout designers were classically trained (at least compared to today's standards) and trying to cope with pressures such as the effect of the Great Depression on advertising, the advent of Modernism in painting and graphic design, as well as the usual work atmosphere of their trade. I remain fond of what they accomplished and find the award-winning material in the 1930s annuals generally more satisfying than most of today's print advertising winners in current annuals. One artist whose work I enjoyed was Otis Shepard (1893 or 94 - 1969). Shepard is best known for his posters for Wrigley's chewing gum; he served as a Wrigley art director and artist 1932-1963. Other than the information above, I could find little about him on the Internet aside from here. Apparently Shepard was from California and it isn't clear whether he was able to work from there or spent time at Wrigley's Chicago headquarters. Below are examples of Shepard's work. Gallery These are examples of billboards and other poster work for Wrigley chewing gum. The Wrigley family owned Santa Catalina Island (off the California coast south of Los Angeles), so Shepard got to do some promotion work for it when not doing chewing gum advertising. Oh, and the Wrigleys also owned the Chicago Cubs baseball team, so Shepard produced work for it as well, including this program cover and some other items shown on the link above. Shepard had a nice, clean style of airbrushing as well as a good feeling for simple, poster-style design. It's happy, not dark or edgy, and I think that's a nice thing. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at April 6, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Friday, March 27, 2009


Art Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * Was the high art of the 1960s the beginning of the end of all good things cultural? * Charles Moore has some funny jokes and smart ideas about how modernism has reduced itself to absurdity. * Jeff Weiner reviews Andrew Wyeth's nudes. * Yahmdallah passes along a funny poem/cartoon that sums up a lot in very few words. * The English painter David Hockney has decided that the computer is now up to the demands of serious drawing and painting. Here's some of the work that he has produced with Photoshop recently. * New York Artist Jorge Colombo has been making images on his iPhone. To my eyes, they almost look like little Hockneys. * Here's an interesting get-to-know-you video about the painter Thornton Willis. I'm curious to hear what watching it makes the realism-vs-abstraction crowd think. * MBlowhard Rewind: I wrote an introduction to the supertalented American painter John La Farge (1835-1910). In his own time, La Farge was huge. These days he has almost been forgotten. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at March 27, 2009 | perma-link | (8) comments

Thursday, March 26, 2009


Automobile Art by Reuters
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Foreign-made cars began to appear on my radar during the early 1950s -- the odd MG TC here and Jaguar XK-120 there. Along with Volkswagens. By the time I was in high school, VWs were no longer startling sights on Seattle streets and there was a dealership not very far from home. I used to be a big-time automobile brochure gatherer and still have in my possession lots of sales lit from that era. Sadly, I can't seem to find my VW brochures with those really nice illustrations by Berndt Reuters (1901-1958). Those illustrations were nice artistically though they distorted reality a little (for more on this, see my post here). And for more on Reuters, look here. This page has a link called "gallery" that sends you to a lot of Reuters' car advertisement illustrations for non-VW brands such as Opel. Reuters seems to have used watercolor and airbrush. His work reminds me of that by master poster artist Ludwig Hohlwein, who I wrote about here. Here are examples of Reuters' work. Gallery Above are VW illustrations of the sort I remember. During World War 2 Reuters was doing work for car companies, but the subject matter was a little different. Below are some inter-war illustrations for publication covers. Finally, one more Volkswagen brochure spread. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at March 26, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Wednesday, March 25, 2009


Bill Kauffman on Arts Subsidies
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Radical reactionary Bill Kauffman is against governmental arts subsidies -- for the good of the arts. I'm with him on that. Look at it this way: If you support the NEA, don't you need to convince us that American culture has been better since the NEA began than it was in the pre-NEA era? In other words, don't you need to argue that the NEA has actually accomplished something worthwhile? Quick reminder: Without any help from the NEA, the U.S. somehow came up with F. Scott Fitzgerald, Julia Morgan, Louis Armstrong, Mahalia Jackson, James Thurber, Dashiell Hammett, Mad magazine, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Howard Hawks, Barbara Stanwyck, Jack Teagarden, John Philip Sousa, Chuck Berry, Bugs Bunny, Ma Rainey, Stephen Foster, Jackie Wilson, Mark Twain, Dorothy Parker, Henry Miller, Cass Gilbert, Bessie Smith, Ruth Draper, and Louis Comfort Tiffany. Thanks to the NEA's efforts, we can brag of ... Any takers? Start reading our week-long interview with Bill Kauffman here and here. Bill and some fellow class-act cranks (Caleb Stegall, Russell Arben Fox, others) are now blogging here. Bonus links: Bill Kauffman writes a beautiful short appreciation of the eco-anarchist, novelist, essayist, and legend Edward Abbey. I'm a huge Edward Abbey fan myself. Start with "Desert Solitaire." I enjoyed Stewart Lundy's musings about art, conservatism, and grace. Allan Carlson, one of Kauffman's conspirators at Front Porch Republic, has written a solid essay about Wilhelm Ropke, my favorite economist. Read it here. Back here I wrote about what a glorious mess American culture is. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at March 25, 2009 | perma-link | (66) comments

Monday, March 23, 2009


Alla Prima Alla Time
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I can't remember when I consecutively bought two books that were different aside from their title. Until now. They are: Both are of the ever-expanding torrent of how-to-paint books. The first is by Al Gury, chairman of the painting department of the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. It's fairly recent. He treats alla prima (the Italian term for producing a painting in one session) to mean wet-into-wet oil paintings that are completed in a very few sessions if one won't do. Included is an interesting list of color palettes assumed to have been used by a number of Masters over the years. Another feature I liked was the step-by-step demonstrations. Gury has a decent style (I pretty much ignore step-by-steps by artists whose work doesn't appeal to me) and his demonstrations are well illustrated. That is, there are enough stages shown that the reader has a pretty good idea of what was going on. Yes, there are videos available that show the entire painting process, but they can be pricey if the artist is well known. My verdict: worth the money if you buy it at the Amazon price. I would have grabbed the Schmid book a long time ago but, out of ignorance, thought it was out of print and that prices of used copies were high. Well, that's the impression Amazon's site gave me. It turns out that Schmid has been self-publishing his book for years and new copies are available via his web site and that of his publishing company. I bought the paperback version for around $50. Schmid says that he almost always produces a painting in one session, but his book has next to nothing in the way of step-by-step demonstrations; almost all the illustrations are of completed works. On the other hand, there is a lot of text that gives the reader a pretty good idea how Schmid approached painting a dozen or so years ago when he wrote the book. This means that his book is more useful to jouneyman artists -- those with some experience -- than the usual how-to fare. What makes the book useful to the likes of me is that Schmid (in my opinion) is a top-notch painter and I like what he produces. Any information from a painter I respect I consider highly useful. As an aside, in many places he mentions the names of John Singer Sargent, Anders Zorn and Joaquin Sorolla as well as some of the Masters. Those make for a good crowd of heroes or models; I like where Schmid is coming from. Apparently he has a new book on landscape painting in the works. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at March 23, 2009 | perma-link | (0) comments

Sunday, March 22, 2009


Cherie, Nude
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- She's no Carla Bruni, god knows, but when she was 22 Tony Blair's wife Cherie posed nude for the painter Euan Uglow. (Friedrich von Blowhard and I are both fans of Uglow's work, for what that's worth. See some of his paintings here.) The Independent talks to some other Brits who have posed in the buff for painters and photographers. Bonus link: Do men and women take different photographs? My own small observation is that women are far, far more likely than men are to take photos of themselves. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at March 22, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Monday, March 16, 2009


Pulp: Original and Recycled
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- The 1920s and, especially, the 30s were the heyday of pulp magazines, the term "pulp" referring to the rough, cheap grade of paper they were printed on. Michael is the lit major of the Blowhards crew, and I'll defer to him regarding the written content of the pulps. Instead, I'll deal with their cover art which has been undergoing something of a revival in recent years. My personal experience with pulps was nil, other than seeing them on news stands when I was a kid in the late 1940s. By the time I was old enough to get away with buying my own magazines (other than comic books) and bringing them into the home of my (probably) watchful parents, pulps were well on the way out. My favorite genre at the time was science-fiction, and sci-fi magazines by then (early-mid 1950s) had mostly graduated from pulp to digest format. The thing to remember about pulps is that they were cheap. The pulp paper was cheap. The writers weren't paid well compared to fees for contributors to "slick" magazines (so-called because they were printed on a better grade of slick-feeling paper) such as Saturday Evening Post and Collier's. Cover artists weren't paid very well either, though the covers were printed in color on semi-slick stock. Since almost everything about them was cheap, the pulps, like movies, did well providing inexpensive entertainment during the Depression years. They provided employment for several classes of illustrators: (1) those on the professional skids, (2) artists content to be full-time pulp artists, and (3) young artists needing both income and experience on their way up the ladder to glory in the slicks. Examples of the latter include Tom Lovell, Norman Saunders and Everett Raymond Kinstler -- the latter eventually becoming a well-known portrait artist. As far as I'm concerned, cover art for pulps was often pretty bad (though some better examples are shown below). In many cases, this was because the artist was a journeyman hack, incapable of doing top-notch work. Other artists did hack work because they were new at the game and using the experience to improve their skills, as I noted above. Perhaps the main reason why pulp cover art wasn't especially refined was because pulp editors and art directors (if there were any -- often the editor dealt with art as well as with words) didn't want refinement. What they wanted was eyeballs, and the way to attract the attention of people scanning magazine shelves of news stands was dramatic scenes and bright colors. As a matter of fact, cover artists were often ordered to include areas of bright red because it was thought to be a good attention-getter. Another important factor had to do with the low pay; artists couldn't afford to spend much time on refinement if they expected to make any kind of living painting pulp covers. That was then. Today in place of pulps we have paperback book covers and covers of... posted by Donald at March 16, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Friday, March 13, 2009


Some Hyper-General Digressions
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Some recent discussions at this blog -- especially here and here -- have left me musing over some scattered and more-abstract-than-usual topics. No idea if the following reflections cohere into anything -- but why should they, eh? And maybe they'll prove useful to a few visitors, if only in a provoking-further-thought kind of way. At 2Blowhards we promote a lot of things. At the most specific level, we each have artists, entertainers, thinkers, and bloggers whose work we enjoy and want to call attention to. On a slightly more general level, we each have a bunch of gripes that we enjoy airing and points that we enjoy putting forward. Donald, for instance, would like to see the part of the world that appreciates visuals pay more respect to popular visual artists. Friedrich wonders why more isn't made of the political and economic matrices that art and culture arise from. My own preference is to peddle a Vedanta-ish "It's all culture, and tastes often change dramatically over time, so why get over-obsessed with judging and ranking? What's your personal reaction? What's your personal thought?" thing. But our overarching point here isn't to push any particular artist, thinker, topic, or point of view. It's to promote a better, richer, and more freewheeling cultural conversation than we're often offered by the usual institutions and outlets. Does the art (or book, or architecture, or music, or movie, or design ...) press overfocus on a handful of hot trends and chic names? Do the various art establishments deliver naive, fun-free, and narrow accounts of culture and art? We do our modest and amateur best to 1) point out how restricted the usual conversations are, and 2) offer examples of different, more spirited, and (we hope) more rewarding ways of talking about these things. I'm usually wary of speaking for my co-bloggers, but in this case I think it's safe: What we share here isn't a devotion to any particular artist, school, or point of view. It's to a conviction that the experience of art and culture is its own payoff. After all, if you don't find your life enriched by an engagement with the arts, why would you bother involving yourself at all? It isn't as though deepening your culture-knowledge, awakening your culture-responsiveness, or sharpening your culture-sensibilites is going to ensure you a secure retirement or win you more attractive lovers. In fact, for most people an involvement in the arts isn't going to deliver practical payoffs of any sort. What does "expertise in the arts" mean anyway? Can it be measured? How? If not, then what are we really talking about? Art isn't math, engineering, or science, after all. The changeable, vaporous stuff -- the cloud of tastes, quirks, preferences, and opinions that we all inhabit and that we bring to bear on all our culture-experiences -- is inescapable. The culture-adventure either enriches your life or it doesn't. (If it doesn't, that's cool, no harm done -- we'll... posted by Michael at March 13, 2009 | perma-link | (11) comments

Slow Drying Acrylics: More Testing
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Recently I posted that to speed up my painting self-teaching progress, I was temporarily (probably) switching from water-soluble oils paints to a slow-drying line of acrylic paints from Golden. I posted the result of an early attempt. I'm still painting human faces ('cause it's pretty obvious when you get things wrong -- we know faces better than any other subject). And I'm reaching the point where I'll zoom back and include more of the body and perhaps add a little background. The acrylics have definitely improved productivity. I can complete a painting of a head in three days or so. But I'm encountering the acrylic color-shift problem. After couple of days of drying, the colors will have turned darker. This means one has to paint things a little lighter than what is desired and hope that the picture will darken just enough to yield the intended effect. Not good, which is why I'll probably return to oils after a while. I might add that I'm using regular acrylics along with the slower-drying variety. Sometimes this is when I already have a seldom-used color in a regular acrylic and wish to save money by not buying a slow-dry duplicate. Other times, I need to paint a small passage that I want to dry quickly, so using the fast-dry alternative is useful. Below are two more recent paintings. The surface is cheap, rather rough canvas board which isn't the best for portrait-type work. The photos are by my little digital camera using natural light. The results are not as good as the actual paintings. Colors are off, and the texture of the canvas board is more apparent than what one sees when viewing in person. At least they offer a rough idea as to how things are going. Both paintings used photo references, but are not slavish copies; I used photos mostly to get the facial lighting patterns and then altered the images as I saw fit. The top painting was done first. The subjects are actually the same actress and two photos were used. The reference photo for the lower picture was from a clothing catalog. I have quite a ways to go, but at least I'm cranking out stuff that's better than what I did when in art school those many years ago. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at March 13, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


About the Subject: Bouguereau vs. Currin
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Speakers and writers of English, unlike those of German, tend to opt for shorter, simpler words or labels. (I set aside academicians and bureaucrats. But then, I'm not sure what they write is really English anyway.) Consider that field of painting called "Abstract." Yes, it's often pinned down more tightly by the term "Abstract Expressionism" if the reference is to a school of painting centered in New York City 1945-1960 or thereabouts. As often happens, the labels that stick aren't always the best descriptions. The word "abstract" in one sense is a relative term, not an absolute. And it matters what is being "abstracted" and to what degree. A better term -- the one used by the Museum of Modern Art in the 1930s -- is Non-Objective Art. A long, not-in-keeping-with-English moniker, to be sure. What it translates to is "art with no object" or "art depicting nothing recognizable." All the rest of painting, therefore, depicts something that can be construed as one or more objects. These objects can be what exist or have existed in the world of experience, imaginary objects as in the case of some Surrealist painters or painters of Science-Fiction books covers, or objects from experience that have been distorted, but not unrecognizably so. And that's one of the things that can make an artist's fortune or get him in trouble with art critics or usually both, depending on the timing. Take William-Adolphe Bouguereau for instance. There is little debate on whether or not he was an extraordinarily skilled painter: he was. Highly successful in his lifetime, his reputation suffered greatly after his death. In part this was due to the Modernist revolution sweeping all non-Modernist art under the critical rug. Otherwise, it was Bouguereau's subject-matter. Sentimental subjects or subjects treated in a sentimental fashion were popular in the late 1800s and are thought icky today by those who consider themselves artistically sophisticated. But that's what he mostly painted. Among the kinds of Bouguereau subjects were children. Most were girls and many were waifs. Below are a few examples. Bouguereau is the big favorite of the folks at the Art Renewal Center, and I wish them well in their effort to restore his reputation. The guy did an amazing job of painting human flesh. And the background work in some of his late painting has, in contrast, lots of visible brushwork. Alas, I must have spent too much of my life in the second half of the 20th century, so I don't care much for his subject-matter even though I greatly respect his talent. John Currin is a currently active artist who was trained in what I'll call a classical manner and who could paint serious subjects well if he so chose. Instead, perhaps in an effort to build a reputation and avoid the starving artist role, his subjects are outrageous. They run the gamut from the pornographic (if you're curious, go to Google, type in his name and then... posted by Donald at March 11, 2009 | perma-link | (21) comments

Sunday, March 8, 2009


Frank Frazetta, Colorist
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- The era of mass-circulation magazines filled with illustration art was essentially over by the late 1960s. These days at Barnes & Noble, I see books of compilations of current illustration that contain mostly cartoonish, odd, ironic Postmodern-style graphics bearing little relationship to the work of the giants of illustration active 1890-1960. But people are funny -- perverse, actually. There is still a sizable market for well-executed, (largely) naturalistic commercial illustration. That market is represented by, among others, book covers, comic books, graphic novels (long-format, single-story perfect-bound comic books) and computer games. And speaking of computers, much of this art is done using computerized tools rather than traditional media. Those traditional media ruled during the period from 1960-65 until around the end of the century. Perhaps the leading illustrator during this era was Frank Frazetta, who I mentioned in passing here. Biographical information on Frazetta can be found here and here. Frazetta had little formal art training. What he got was during his schoolboy years; everything else he picked up from mentors or on his own. The first part of his career was in the field of comics, both book and newspaper (for a number of years he ghosted Al Capp's popular Li'l Abner strip). Such work was in the form of inking over penciled drawings with (for Sunday papers and comic books) flat-color fill-ins. After a falling-out with Capp, Frazetta scrambled for a few years until he began to make a mark painting covers for fantasy, science-fiction and superhero paperback books, comic books and, later, movie posters. He quickly became successful to the point that he is revered by a large body of fans. I suspect that most of those fans and others viewing his work focus on Frazetta's subjects. These include monsters, muscle-bound heroes and villains, and barely-clothed babes with bodies that don't quit. Those babes, by the way, have pretty much the same kind of caricatured face -- extra-rounded forehead and tiny nose -- that seems (to me) to be based on Frazetta's wife. I consider this constricted depiction of females to be Frazetta's main failing; more variety would have been better. But the subject of this post is not so much the content of his paintings, but his painterly skill and use of color -- subtleties one wouldn't expect given Frazetta's lack of formal training and a presumed lack of sophistication of his audience of paperback book buyers. I think that a good deal of Frazetta's appeal is subliminal. Yes, people probably mostly focus on the subjects and how they are drawn. But I contend that it's the color and brushwork embodied in the finished product that makes the fantastic subjects seem unexpectedly real -- even though it probably isn't noticed by most viewers. Let's take a look at some of Frazetta's art that I grabbed off the web. Gallery This violent character is typical Frazetta. But don't focus on the helmet, ax and so forth. Instead, look at the rocks... posted by Donald at March 8, 2009 | perma-link | (16) comments

Friday, March 6, 2009


Donald's Fave Abstract Expressionist
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Although I believe that Modernism in painting was an interesting experiment that has continued far longer than it should have and that the Abstract Expressionism school of 1945-1960 New York was an artistic dead end, I don't dislike it all. This might surprise some readers, given the usual content of my painting postings. My main objection to Modernism is the elitist tendency of many its supporters over the years to heap scorn on traditional painting. I, like the beloved Chairman Mao, believe in letting many flowers bloom, and I don't like being told (as I was when in college) that only Modernism counts. So just how much Modernist painting do I like? Not much of it, truth be told. Though I do have affection for the works of Franz Kline (1910-1962) who died at far too young an age (ten days short of his 52nd birthday). What do I like about Kline's paintings? Their boldness and strong composition; I'm not that much into subtlety. As with all artists, some works are better than others; below are some of the nicer Klines. Gallery Franz Kline New York, N.Y. - 1953 Orange Outline - 1955 Buttress - 1956 I might post on other Modernists from time to time. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at March 6, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Sunday, March 1, 2009


The Craft of Putz
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I wrote about an exhibit on the Munich Secession at Seattle's Frye Art Museum and followed up with a posting about the most famous secessionist, Franz von Stuck. The most impressive works at the exhibit, so far as I was concerned, were by a Tyrolian named Leo Putz (1869-1940). Biographical information on Putz can be found here. Many of Putz's most important works are in the Unterberger Collection (the Web site is in German), which is perhaps why he is not well known in America. Here are examples of Putz's paintings. Gallery Friedliche Tage (Calm Day) - 1902 This is one of the earliest of Putz's paintings that I could locate on the Web. Waldesruhe (Peaceful Woods or perhaps Tranquility in the Forest) - 1925 And this is the latest. What interest me are those he painted approximately 1904-14 -- some of which are shown below. Dame in Blau (Woman in Blue) - 1908 (Detail) This can serve as introduction to Putz's "classic" phase, wherein he made heavy use of flat, often square-tipped brushes yielding a faceted look to the resulting painting. Lisl Im Herbslichen Garten (In an Autumn Garden) - 1908 Am Ufer (On the Bank) - 1909 This was one of Putz's paintings on display in Seattle. It is large and impressive, appearing brighter and fresher than the reproduction suggests. It was a prize winner at the 1915 Panama Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco. Sommerträume (Summer Dreams) - 1907 This was also on display in Seattle. Again, a large painting displaying much skill with the seldom-seen technique. Apologies for the small illustration (which doesn't do the original any justice), but it was the best I could locate. --> Looking at the images posted above, I feel frustration that they don't offer much of a clue as to how the paintings actually appear. For example, the final two exhibit a fascinating lesson in color selection and brushwork on the faces, especially. Putz's brushstrokes did not result in color patches akin to cutting and pasting bits of colored paper. The paint is applied thickly so that the marks of the bristles often show. Moreover, the brush pressure on the stokes is not always uniform; a stroke might start hard and thick while ending in a somewhat feathered manner. Nor are the strokes aligned the same way (as can be seen in some of Cézanne's work). Instead, their orientation varies in such a way that the solidity and form of the subject is mimicked. Finally, brushstrokes in other parts of the painting than the subject are applied more conventionally. Putz's style wasn't created in an artistic vacuum, of course; he latched onto existing concepts and executed them extremely well. I won't go into all the possible influences, only citing Wilhelm Trübner (1851-1917) as one. One way of considering the style is as follows: Portrait painters such as Carolus-Durand and his student Sargent strove to see the head of a subject as a structure to... posted by Donald at March 1, 2009 | perma-link | (7) comments

Visits with the New Urbanism
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- A couple of calm and rewarding visits with recent New Urbanist projects: John Massengale strolls through Princeton's new Whitman College (designed by the brilliant Dmitri Porphyrios and funded by eBay's Meg Whitman); Laurence Aurbach takes a look at three award-winning European New-Urb neighborhoods. For contrast, take a look at Kevin Buchanan's roundup of Fort Worth's worst buildings. Those mostly-Modernist monstrosities are the kind of thing architects are all-too-prone to create. Fun to read James Kunstler slamming the SPLC's chic nightmare of a new headquarters too. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at March 1, 2009 | perma-link | (11) comments

Thursday, February 26, 2009


Outline Style, 1890-1940
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Above is a detail from a Frank Brangwyn mural titled "Dancers" from around 1895. Brangwyn (1867-1956) was a prolific, largely self-taught artist whose popularity peaked in the early decades of the 20th century. Book on Frank Brangwyn that can be ordered via Amazon's United Kingdom site. Although he was productive in several media, Brangwyn is perhaps best remembered for his mural work, which was influential. One characteristic of his mural style was the use of outlines, a tactic to give the paintings more visual punch at the distances from which they were expected to be viewed. This is in contrast to traditional representational easel painting, where outlining is subdued if present or is absent altogether. Outlines were also evident in contemporaneous posters. On the wall facing my desk are two posters by Alphonse Mucha that I bought at the Mucha Museum in Prague a few years ago and had framed. In both cases Mucha relied on outlining as well as color and modeling for depicting his subjects. Below are more examples of outline style. Gallery By Dean Cornwell Cornwell (1892-1960) was one of the top illustrators in America during his career. He also painted a number of murals, including some in New York's Warwick hotel and the Los Angeles Public Library. (At the latter link, scroll down to find the Cornwell reference. Click on the thumbnails to see the full images. Note that the outlining is almost entirely in light-medium blue.) The illustration above is not from a mural, but shows the influence of Brangwyn, with whom Cornwell apprenticed and whose studio he rented while working on large murals. Illustrations by Dan Sayre Groesbeck Dan Sayre Groesbeck (1879-1950), another essentially self-taught artist, spent the first part of his career as a commercial artist and the last part providing film visualizations to Cecil B. DeMille. He also painted murals, in particular a set of murals for the ... Santa Barbara County Courthouse This section shows the building of the mission at Santa Barbara. River Bend No. 4 - 1938 Fall Landscape - 1923 The above paintings are by Iowa artist Melvin Cone (1891-1965) and typify a popular painting style of the 1920s and 30s, characterized by outlining and toned-down colors. I'm not sure who did this illustration. It looks like something Cornwell might have done, but the Properties info on the initial grab indicates Andrew Loomis (the treatment of the woman's face is suggestive of the latter). In any case, it's another instance of outlining (mostly in the foreground). Outlining interests me. Puzzles me, too. What puzzles me is the outline color selection logic used by artists practicing this style. It puzzles me because I can't quite come up with a consistent practice. At one extreme are the L.A. Public Library murals by Cornwell that featured blue outlines. Then there is the Brangwyn mural at the top of this posting, which is typical of what puzzles me. Starting at the top (I'm looking at a... posted by Donald at February 26, 2009 | perma-link | (7) comments

Wednesday, February 25, 2009


More on Porn and Art
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- I still have a bad cold, but I've now got a quarter of my brain back, and I've caught up with the comments on my "Is Porn the New Rock 'n' Roll?" posting. So I'm going to venture a few musings and responses ... Let's at least admit that the "porn and art" topic can kick off a lively discussion. The comparison of porn to drugs strikes me as a good one. On the other hand, it's not as though rock music hasn't had its drug side, in several senses. Clearly some people use rock as a drug, if only an anesthetic. Clearly a lot of people have used rock to enhance sex. Clearly rock can addle the brain. Clearly for many people rock is addictive ... But has any of that prevented the culture generally from deciding that rock is an art form? Which opens up a topic I'm surprised we haven't made more of, which is: Part of the "art" thing isn't so much what the artwork is per se, let alone what its intention is. Part of it is the use we make of it. If a guy jerks off to Nabokov's "Ada," then he has used "Ada" as pornography. If a woman loves shall we say soothing her loneliness by watching Kevin Costner movies, then she's using mainstream Hollywood movies as pornography. Though these two particular people may be nothing but outliers, how about this: What if the culture generally decides to take "Ada" as porn? (Some critics have in fact deemed it porn.) Then it's porn, right? On the other hand, as soon as someone starts to take stuff that's routinely categorized as porn and considers it from an aesthetic point of view, interesting non-porny things can start to arise from the experience. You might wind up with, say, Bettie Page. In other words, how an individual or a culture chooses to take a given work is a big factor in how that work is considered. Once upon a time no one took burlesque performances as art. Now some people do. The first time I went to a pro ballet performance, my first reaction was "Woohoo, it's porn for the high-class set!" Yet ballet is about as high-art as culture can be. And before you dismiss my reaction, let me cite the respected ex-ballerina and ballet writer Toni Bentley on my behalf. For her, ballet both is sex and is about sex. Balanchine was turning himself on. Audiences are getting high. The splayed thighs, the ecstatic expressions, and the hefty baskets are a big part of what that art form is selling. Hey, Toni Bentley has not only written beautifully about strippers, Balanchine, and ballet -- check out some of her freelance pieces here -- she's written a wonderful arty-porny memoir of erotic awakening. (Look closely and you'll see my real name mentioned in the Acknowledgments.) I'm being a little presumptuous, but I think it's fair to say that... posted by Michael at February 25, 2009 | perma-link | (45) comments

Monday, February 23, 2009


Donald's Art Bookmarks
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Michael is the ace linker in these here parts, but I won't let that stop me from tossing in a link-post now and then -- especially right now. The theme for this exercise is the bookmarks tab on my web browser. It's a pretty lean 'n' mean drop-menu because I hate computer clutter. So I have only a few art-related bookmarks at present, a few of them in the experimental stage. Given that there must be somewhere between a bazillion and a gazillion web sites devoted to visual arts, I make no claim that mine is definitive. Rather, they mostly relate to a couple of my interests -- illustration and traditional painting. I'm reluctant to have a lot of such sites bookmarked. I gave one reason above; another is that I spend more time on the computer than I really ought to, and need to restrain temptation. If you want to build or expand upon your own bookmark collection, try these and then take a look at what's on their blogrolls and then the blogrolls of sites mentioned, ad infinitum. Here goes: * Illustration Art is David Apatoff's fine blog on, well, illustration -- though he sometimes strays into other art-related topics. He doesn't post daily, so I check in once a week or so to see what's new. * 100 Years of Illustration by veteran illustrator Paul Giambarba gets additions every so often, so I drop by once every couple of weeks to see if he has posted anything. His older posts are well worth looking at if you haven't visited his site before. * Today's Inspiration, is by Leif Peng, an illustrator in the Hamilton, Ontario vicinity. As the title implies, Peng somehow manages to provide a torrent of posts about (mostly) classical illustration at the rate of four or five items per week. * Another prolific site is Gurney Journey by "Dinotopia" creator James Gurney. He covers a wider range of art-related subjects than illustration, providing a good deal of information I find useful. Gurney posts on an almost-daily basis. * Art and Influence is another useful web site by a practicing artist, this being Armand Cabrera. Cabrera has a good knowledge of art history, so if you like the artist profiles I post from time to time, you might well enjoy Cabrera's site. He also offers instructional tips and other grist for art amateurs. Posting is generally Monday-Friday, though he does take breaks from time to time. * Lines and Colors by Charley Parker ranks high on frequency and interest. As is the case with the sites already mentioned, one has the potential for sinking hour after hour into reading previous posts. Parker more than the others is hip to computer-based illustration, so I found his posts on that field instructive, naïf that I am. I also have bookmarked a few sites containing reproductions of paintings; I might cover those another time. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at February 23, 2009 | perma-link | (3) comments

Saturday, February 21, 2009


Stuck on Evil
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- That "Stuck" in the title is actually pronounced something like "ztook" or "shtook" (these might work if you're an English speaker). It's the last name of noted Munich artist Franz von Stuck (1863-1928) who acquired the "von" in 1905. I recently posted about a Munich Secession show now playing in Seattle. Therein, I threatened to post articles about some of the artists whose paintings I viewed, and now I'm about to make good on it. As you can see, first up is Franz von Stuck, one of the key players in the Secession. Links with information about him are here and here. The Wikipedia link notes that Stuck, besides rattling Establishment cages, was a commercial artist, portrait painter and art teacher. Among those studying under him were better-known (than Stuck, these days) artists Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky and Josef Albers. The painting that launched Stuck into fame and a fairly good fortune in Munich was the painting shown below: Sin - 1893 It's murky looking (a trait of many Munich paintings of that day), though the temptress (Eve?) is easy to spot. You might have to pay a bit more attention to make out the serpent. Needless to say, in 1893 Catholic Munich, the painting caused a sensation. But not so much of a sensation that Stuck was sent packing; as I noted, it was a career-maker. It seems that he painted about a dozen versions of it over the years, or so says the exhibit catalog. One is in the Villa Stuck and another is in Seattle's Frye Art Museum collection, where it seems to be almost always on view. Gallery Franz Stuck and His Wife in His Studio - 1902 Guardian of Paradise - 1889 Lucifer - 1889-90 Pallas Athena - 1898 This was painted the same year as Gustav Klimt's painting of the same title. Tulla Durieux as Circe - c.1913 Along with Edgar Degas, Alphonse Mucha and some other painters of his era, Stuck made use of photography when painting. The painting of Duriex is a very close copy of a reference photo to be found on page 40 of the catalog for a 2006 exhibit in Trent, Italy. (Title: Franz von Stuck: Lucifero moderno; text entirely in Italian.) Spring Love - 1917 In the last decade of his career, Stuck was painting in a mural style -- outlines and flatter modeling. There are two example in the Frye that I'm aware of, and neither is mural size, however. Villa Stuck exterior Villa Stuck interior More images of Stuck's work can be found here. The Frye has several of his paintings, but I'm not sure if any other American museum has even that many. The best place for the "Stuck experience" is the Villa Stuck itself. I was there three years ago and found it worth the mile or so walk from the vicinity of Munich's subway system. I'm not sure that Stuck was a great painter; but I do... posted by Donald at February 21, 2009 | perma-link | (7) comments

Visual Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * Flickr fanatic Jovike is one inspired, and unconventional, Flickr poster. Don't miss his collection of photographs of book jackets. * Scenes from the Morgue does a great job of sharing old movie ads and trash-culture trinkets. * Lava lamps for a new generation. * This isn't your wholesome neighborhood Soap Box Derby. * A history of the photobooth. (Link thanks to visitor Julie.) * MBlowhard Rewind: I wrote an introduction to a Canadian artist whose work I love, David Milne. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at February 21, 2009 | perma-link | (0) comments

Friday, February 20, 2009


Is Porn the New Rock 'n' Roll?
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Gallery owner, artist, activist, porn performer and porn producer Madison Young answers 20 questions. Reading the q&a with Madison reminded me of a notion that I've been playing with recently. It's this: Perhaps porn is the new rock 'n' roll. I have a cold today so I'm not going to try to build my usual devastatingly-convincing case. (Small joke.) Still, some comparisons are striking. If you object to my notion because you feel that porn by definition isn't an art form ... Well, it certainly took a while for rock to be recognized by mainstream society as one. Definitions sometimes change. If you cavil because you think porn is too base or animalistic ... Well, rock was experienced by mainstream society for quite a while as little but a shapeless eruption of primitive energy. Then our view of what art can offer changed. Here's my basic reasoning. Porn has been around forever. What has changed in fairly-recent years is that 1) it has become omnipresent, 2) younger generations take its easy availability for granted, 3) a not-insignificant number of artily-inclined and talented kids (Dave Naz, Natascha Merritt, Eon McKoi, Blaise Christie, Joanna Angel) have chosen to embrace porn as their favored form of self-expression, 4) digital technology has provided tools to make porn on your own terms, as well as a way to distribute your creations. In other words, perhaps the only reason that porn hasn't been acknowledged as a significant new art development is because we aren't yet in the habit of seeing it as such. Were there loads of people in 1954 who realized that rock was a big, culture-transforming deal? So, my hunch: Perhaps 50 years from now, people looking back on our time -- in the unlikely event that anyone should take a break from mobile Facebooking -- will decide that Madison Young, the folks behind IShotMyself and BeautifulAgony, and Peter Acworth (the entrepreneur and mind behind Kink.com) were the culture-shifting art stars of 2009. Unlikely, perhaps. But can you guarantee me that this won't happen? And a quick reminder: jazz wasn't initially seen as one of America's most glorious contributions to world culture. For decades movies were considered to be a low-rent novelty. Almost no one following movies in the '60s and '70s forsaw that the exploitation movies of the era would have the continuing influence and impact that they've proven to have. Given all this: Which of today's artists and performers would you deem likely to be remembered in 2059? A quick attempt to head off one potential dismissive response at the pass: I'm not venturing my "porn may be the rock 'n' roll of our era" notion because I like porn, or because I feel it's a good thing, or a bad thing, or because I have a political or cultural agenda. I'm not agitating on behalf of porn. My only purpose in this posting is to take note of a little of what surrounds us, culturally... posted by Michael at February 20, 2009 | perma-link | (89) comments

Monday, February 16, 2009


Is MAYA Extinct?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- No, no. That "MAYA" in the title doesn't refer to the former Indian empire in Mexico/Central America. It stands for the phrase "most advanced, yet acceptable" -- a credo of famed industrial designer Raymond Loewy. And it has almost everything to do with Modernism. The early growth of the industrial design profession in America coincided with (1) the Great Depression of the 1930s and (2) the triumph of Modernism with reference to this country's cultural elite. About 1930, new skyscraper designs were sloughing off Art Deco ornamental motifs. In fact, ornamentation of all sorts was rapidly being abandoned as the theories of European architect-intellectuals such as Corbusier entranced even the best of American architects. For example, Raymond Hood quickly moved from Radio City style to International Style for his McGraw-Hill Building. The construction industry was hit hard by the Depression. Ditto manufacturers. But changing the appearance of most products is less costly than erecting a skyscraper. So while architects suffered, the new, self-proclaimed breed of industrial designers did well during the 30s because manufacturers were desperate to increase the appeal of their product lines and would spend money to make, at the minimum, cosmetic changes if not complete redesigns. Consumer products in the late 1920s tended to be superficially ornamented, in many respects design holdovers from Victorian days. Industrial designers could easily strip off that ornament and, if things worked out well, re-engineer products for greater production efficiency. The stated goal was "functionality" in both engineering and appearance. With respect to appearance, the notion was advanced that there was some sort of Platonic Ideal form for each kind of product and that the industrial designer would strive to actualize it. This ideal form was, of course, Modernist; shapes were simple and ornament absent. Actually, a tiny bit of ornamentation might be permitted provided that it too was highly simplified and "in character" with the design as a whole -- hence fluting and speed stripes found in "streamlined" Thirties' industrially designed products. Bumps on this road to rational perfection were caused by customer resistance to Modernist designs. However, as best I can tell, such resistance wasn't strong, though it did vary by type of product. For example, many housewives preferred traditional shapes and decorative patterns for dining china to Modernist alternatives while thinking nothing of buying a streamlined-looking toaster. In some cases, Loewy had an ideal in mind but understood that potential customers (and perhaps his client) weren't ready to buy the ideal version. So he instead proposed designs that would take the product's appearance part of the way to the ideal and this would condition shoppers for further changes in the direction Loewy wanted to lead them. I recently posted about the evolution of automobile fender lines at General Motors during the late 30s and 1940s. This was what Loewy meant by MAYA evolution. But the MAYA concept began to lose relevance. That's because the "most advanced" part of the saying actually implied "most... posted by Donald at February 16, 2009 | perma-link | (0) comments

Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Test Drive: Slow-Drying Acrylics
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I whimpered and whined about my frustrations when trying to paint using acrylics here. My gripe was that acrylic paints dried too fast, at least for slow-working me. In Comments, co-blogger Friedrich von Blowhard mentioned (among other things): I've painted extensively with acrylics, far more than with oils. For me, they work best when you work very quickly, mostly achieving gradations by painting wet into wet or using drybrush effects. It's a good medium for sketching, particularly outdoors. Some practice will get you going in that direction. The problem with acrylics is mostly their lack of, for want of a better term, luminism. That is to say, to really see an finished acrylic painting it needs to be very well lit. In a dim room, acrylics lose all color intensity and can get quite murky. Oils seem to require much less intense illumination to give up their visual effects, especially bright color. More information can be found in this Wikipedia entry. Help might be on the way for frustrated painters such as me. The folks at Golden have introduced a line of slow-drying acrylic paints. They call the line "Open" (heaven knows why), and information on it can be found here. I presently paint using water-soluble oils. That's because I don't have to deal with messy, smelly solvents. The main disadvantage of this type of oil paint is that drying is slow, sometimes on the order of weeks. The result is that I sometimes have to set a painting aside before, say, doing details; I'm afraid I'll smear the existing paint. The slow-drying feature is also a disadvantage when traveling. Again, there is a risk of smearing. Slow-drying acrylics might be useful in circumstances where I'd like the painting to dry overnight yet still be able to "work" it for more than the 20 or so minutes conventional acrylics allow. Golden claims that their Open line allows working for a couple of hours or even more, which seems like a reasonable time. So I took a gamble and bought nine tubes of the stuff -- a palette range sufficient for experimentation. I should mention that I took up painting because I wondered how good at it I might become if I worked at the craft. Long-time readers might recall that I've been complaining about my poor college art training as far back as my guest blogging days. Most artists and art teachers insist that the only way to reach one's potential is to paint, paint and paint some more. Alas, I haven't done well by that criterion. Over the last four years I've attempted perhaps two dozen paintings. That's because (1) I have a life to lead, (2) much of my creative time is spent blogging, and (3) oil paint dries too slowly for a project to hold focus. (Yes, I could paint alla prima in oils, but I'm not that good yet; maybe later.) For what it's worth, below is a painting I... posted by Donald at February 11, 2009 | perma-link | (5) comments

Monday, February 9, 2009


Secession in Seattle
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- One war the French won had to do with art history. French Impressionism triumphed and most contemporary European art fell into relative obscurity, an injustice Your Faithful Blogger has been attempting to rectify for nearly four years. One of the casualties of the French Kulturschlacht was the reputation of Munich as a leading center of art and art training. These days only cognoscenti seem to be aware that, in the mid-to-late 1800s, young artists flocked there almost as readily as they did to Paris. Perhaps the best known American painter who trained in Munich was William Merritt Chase. Near the end of the 19th century Germanic art centers became secession-happy. Probably the best-known is the Vienna Secession, this due in part to the latter day fame of one of its instigators, Gustav Klimt. There also was a Berlin Secession. But the original secession occurred in Munich more than five years before Vienna and Berlin officially got into the act. (Yes, there were a number of artistic rebellions in the 19th century. But use of the term "secession" seems to be largely a Germanic phenomenon.) Exhibits of Munich art from the secession era are rare. However, one was held last fall at Munich's Villa Stuck -- an appropriate setting because a major secession sparkplug was Franz von Stuck himself. I have visited the Villa Stuck and recommend it to any art fan visiting the city. A modified version of that exhibit is showing in the United States until 12 April, 2009. Also appropriately, it is housed in Seattle's Frye Art Museum whose "founding collection" is largely comprised of Munich-originated paintings from around the turn of the 20th century (along with a couple of Bouguereaus and other art of the period). Below is an example from the Frye. "Head of a Woman" - Hugo, Freiherr von Habermann (1849-1929) The Seattle version lacks some of the paintings in the Villa Stuck show, but includes items from the Frye collection. Here, the exhibit is titled "The Munich Secession and America". I enjoyed the exhibit greatly and learned about some interesting painters I had been ignorant of; I'll write about some of them in the coming weeks. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at February 9, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Molly C.
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Artist and performer Molly Crabapple is looking a little like Natalie Portman (only stacked) on the cover of Constellation magazine. I'm proud to say that Molly got her start as a writer here at 2Blowhards. Check out her Confessions of a Naked Model: here, here, here, here. Here's Molly's website. Check out Molly's baby, the burlesque-inspired downtown phenomenon called Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at February 9, 2009 | perma-link | (2) comments

Friday, February 6, 2009


Art of the Pickup
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Given that I'm about the last blogger in the world to notice a trend, with hesitation I present the following: "Realist" painting, as practiced a century and longer ago, was a genre featuring what was contemporary. No Greek gods, historical scenes, allegories or paintings with religious subject matter. Okay were scenes of washerwomen or peasants returning from a hard day in the fields. That was then. What might a Realist depict nowadays? Why not pickup trucks. At any rate, that's what I've been noticing lately in strolls through galleries in the Santa Barbara area. Examples are below.. By Davis Jensen This is far from Jensen's most impressive work: I can't find it on the Web. Even his website doesn't show his best stuff: lush California farm landscapes with an incidental truck here or there. "Goin' to Town" - Jon Francis Francis is another artist who likes putting a pickup truck into a scene. His Web page is here. Again, most of what I consider his best paintings featuring trucks are not on the Internet. For what it's worth, here are two more. "Red Truck" - Jon Francis "Autumn Truck" - Jon Francis What follows is not a pickup. But I liked seeing it in the gallery nevertheless: "1940 Fun" - Jon Francis This isn't the "Cisco Kid California" of the 1800s, but the California I might have experienced as a boy had I been born there (as Francis was: he's a near-contemporary). You might have noticed that none of the trucks shown is new. They're from the 1950s or before, though all seem to be depicted as they might be seen today (the red truck excepted, perhaps). Must be that brand new trucks lack character. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at February 6, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Thursday, February 5, 2009


A Potential Defect of Abstract Painting
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Not long ago I wrote about painter David Leffel and a book compiled from notes taken from his classes. When I was in Santa Monica last week I dropped by the Hennessey & Ingalls book store, a source of great temptation. One of the temptations I succumbed to was this book by him. As with the first one, a Zen-like overtone intrudes, though thus far I'm finding it worth the $85 it cost. One of Leffel's remarks struck me because of its obviousness and the fact that its point had never occurred to me. In reference to an artist evolving over his career, he said (page 130): How do abstract painters know when they are getting better ??? Later, Donald... posted by Donald at February 5, 2009 | perma-link | (28) comments

Saturday, January 17, 2009


Evo Bio Books
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- A quick posting to let visitors know about two terrific new evo-bio books. In "The Art Instinct," philosopher Denis Dutton (of Arts & Letters Daily fame) tries to bridge the gap between biology and aesthetics. As a comprehensive evo-bio account of the arts, it's a heroic and (I hope) conversation-shifting work. Since it's also a book that nails many of the basics down in a way that the culture-world has been in bad need of for several decades now, I'm pleased to see that "The Art Instinct" is selling well and receiving numerous respectful reviews. Hey, the time may finally be right -- finally! -- for a sensibly down-to-earth yet sophisticated discussion of the nature of the arts. My favorite reviews of the book so far have been by John Derbyshire and Jonah Lehrer. The book's website is here. In "The 10,000 Year Explosion: How Civilization Accelerated Human Evolution," Gregory Cochran and Henry Harpending cheerily take on one of the most potentially explosive of all evo-bio topics: the fact of recent human evolution. So ... What if human evolution didn't stop 40,000 years ago? What if our social forms have placed evolutionarily significant pressures on us? What if the differences between population groups run far deeper than mere skin color? And what on earth might have been the cause of the cultural explosion that resulted in cave paintings and elaborate ritual burials? It's a mischievous, daring, and informative book that makes canny use of history, biology, and anthropology, and that teaches a lot about the way genes and alleles go about their business. It's also an exciting reading experience. Following the authors' minds as they reason their way (using vervey English and vivid imagery) through what's known now to explore possibilities and implications delivers a real buzz. I had many moments when I found myself thinking, "So maybe this is what being supersmart is like!" Fun. The book hasn't yet been released, but you can place a pre-order here. The book's very generous website is here. By the way: I notice that Cochran and Harpending created their book's website on the Squarespace platform. I'm a huge fan of Squarespace myself, and recommend it enthusiastically. If you want to build a website but would prefer not to devote your life to HTML, CSS, and/or Dreamweaver, Squarespace may be just what you're looking for. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at January 17, 2009 | perma-link | (8) comments

Saturday, January 10, 2009


Exploring Modernism: The Tribune Tower Contest
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- It can be interesting to look at examples of technology or aesthetics during the early stages of change. Lots of ideas are explored. Alternative configurations are tried out. Eventually the most appropriate solutions appear, the result being minor variations around that ideal until a large shift (especially in technology) occurs. I discussed the evolution of airliner design in this context here. In architecture, the emergence of Modernist design crossed paths with the American invention, the skyscraper. A fascinating example is the 1922 design competition for the Chicago Tribune (newspaper) tower. The Wikipedia entry for the building is here and a book about the competition (which I have not examined) is here. Many entries were simply odd, including one having the building shaped like a statue of an Indian (sorry, I can't locate a photo, though surely a copy is on the Web somewhere). Others were attempts to apply historical architectural styles to the structure. A few instances made use of Modernist concepts such as emphasis on structure and elimination of ornament. Below are some of the entries. Gallery Jens Fredrick Larson Here the architect grafts a design from a non-so-tall historical structural style onto a skyscraper format. The sensible base-column-capital formula is used, but I don't think it works here. Adolf Loos Modernist Loos submitted a literal takeoff on the columnar form. Given the amount of effort submission designs required for this competition, I have to assume that he was serious -- though the result certainly makes one wonder. Bernard Bijvoet and Johannes Duiker This is one of the few purely Modernist entries. The drawing shows an interesting juxtaposition of the vertical (the solid corner elements) and the more typical (of the time) Modernist horizontal motif emphasizing floors. The intended structure might be reinforced concrete. If so, the resulting building probably would not have aged gracefully had it been built. Walter Gropius and Adolf Meyer Gropius was head of the famed Bauhaus School at the time of the competition, so it is little wonder that his version also is Modernist. The vertical-horizontal business is less contrasted than in the Bijvoet-Duiker design. The dominant pattern is individual office windows; a few horizontal extrusions are added apparently to provide some visual interest. It strikes me a a loft building writ large. Eliel Saarinen Saarinen (the Finnish architect and father of the better-known Eero Saarinen) submitted a design that many observers at the time believed should have been the winner; pictures of renderings of this unbuilt structure can be found in many books about the history of architecture. Gothic motifs were used to produce a handsome design that served as inspiration for a number of 1920s skyscrapers that were actually built. For that reason, it seems a bit bland or ordinary in retrospect. I do like it, as I do most other designs by Saarinen (Eliel) who I consider a better designer than Saarinen (Eero). John Mead Howells and Raymond Hood This was the winning design. It's... posted by Donald at January 10, 2009 | perma-link | (6) comments

Monday, January 5, 2009


George Lambert: Anglo-Australian Painter
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- If possible, I write about artists whose work I've seen in person rather than in reproduction. That doesn't apply for George Washington Thomas Lambert (1873-1930), born in St. Petersburg of an American father and English mother, raised in Australia, studied art in Paris, spent much of his career (1902-21) in London and finally returned to Australia. One reason why I haven't knowingly seen his paintings is because much of his work is in Australia. I fact, I'd never heard of him until I bought this book, the catalog for a show at the National Gallery of Australia. Wikipedia, a source I usually use to link for biographical information is sketchy on Lambert, as you can see here. There is a book about him and his son and grandson who attained notoriety in other fields (see links towards the bottom of the Wikipedia entry for more information about them). For now, this link will have to do. Here are examples of his work. Gallery Self-Portrait - 1907 The Red Shawl (Olave Cunningham Graham) - 1913 The White Glove - 1921 Helen de Vere Beauclerk King Edward VII - 1910 Newcastle Sybil Walker in a Red and Gold Dress - 1905 Important People - 1914 Miss Alison Preston and John Parker on Mearbeck Moor - 1909 The Sonnet - c.1907 A few thoughts, keeping in mind that this is based on seeing reproductions and not originals. Given that most of the paintings shown above were done around a century ago, I find it interesting that they tend to be quirky from a psychological standpoint. They are almost the respectful society portraits and allegorical scenes one would expect of Edwardian era -- but not quite. Nor are they "edgy" in the 21st century postmodern sense -- yet there's a hint of it in some of the poses and settings. Lambert's style is crisp, but not fussy. For what it's worth, I'm not normally much fond of "hard edge" realism. But his work doesn't fall into that category; rather, it's "painterly" -- one can see the brush strokes, particularly in the backgrounds. A rule of thumb many painters follow is to slightly blur and strip details from most of a painting's surface, leaving sharper edges and details for a focus point. This is similar to how we see things; a small area is in sharp focus and the rest isn't quite. But note that Lambert reverses this formula in a couple of the works displayed here. Sybil Walker's face and the face of the woman to the right in The Sonnet (probably Australian painter Thea Proctor) seem smoother and perhaps a little more blurred than the rest of the surface. This contrast of sorts would be a reverse-means of focusing attention. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at January 5, 2009 | perma-link | (4) comments

Wednesday, December 31, 2008


Architecture, Insane and Sane
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- The New Statesman publishes a ringing and defiant defence of Le Corbusier, in my book one of the most destructive and pernicious artists of all time. The writer, Jonathan Meades, can't resist accusing those who dislike Le Corbusier of being "tectonically blind anti-modernists"; "one wonders whether they had eyes to put out in the first place." Note the usual modernist strategy at play here: If you dislike what I like, it can only because you don't get it -- because, in other words, you're an idiot. The possibility that a person may "get it" yet dislike it anyway can never entertained; it's a simple item of modernist faith that "getting it" must equal "loving it." And does anyone have any idea what the hell Meades could mean by "tectonically blind"? An antidote to the madness is this terrific, if too short, P2P interview with architectural theorist Nikos Salingaros about "peer-to-peer urbanism." For a comprehensive interview with Nikos, scroll to the top of this blog's page, click on "Interviews," and help yourself to a mind-blowing five-parter. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at December 31, 2008 | perma-link | (13) comments

Sunday, December 28, 2008


Insider Paintball: Anders Zorn's Palette
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- This post is intended for practicing or wannabe painters who are at the point where they're thinking deeply about color usage. Other readers are always welcome, of course. Often mentioned in the same breath with John Singer Sargent are the Spaniard Joaquin Sorolla, who I wrote about here and the Swede Anders Zorn (1860-1920), who I dealt with briefly here. A 12-part Web-based biography of Zorn can be found here. In brief, Zorn was a highly regarded portrait artist, one of his subjects being President Grover Cleveland. Besides portraits, he painted country scenes and an extensive series of nude Swedish girls who would be far too buxom to land fashion model jobs were they alive today. Zorn etched and sculpted, but is best known as a painter. He began in watercolors (usually painting opaquely) and later switched to oils. Self-portrait - 1896 Note the palette Zorn is holding in this self-portrait. It seems to have only four colors, whereas most artists' palettes have a dozen or more placed around the edges. As best I can tell, those colors are white, yellow ochre, cadmium red light and black. Four colors: that's all -- and this set is often referred to as the Zorn Palette. According to one source (which, to my shame, I lost because I failed to write it down before I decided to write a post on this subject), Zorn would use other reds and yellows if he wanted to change the tone or mood of a painting from what yellow ochre and cadmium red light offer. Such an alternative might be alizarin crimson and cadmium yellow light. I haven't yet experimented with a Zorn Palette, but this painter did, and had difficulty. Even though Zorn himself showed four colors in his self-portrait, he probably used more when the occasion demanded. For example, this article states that a person associated with a Swedish museum devoted to Zorn asserted that Zorn also used cobalt blue because more than 30 tubes of it were found among his possessions after he died. The source further stated that Zorn often painted water, which is difficult to do without blue -- one of the three primary pigment colors along with red and yellow. (Green, normally a mixture of yellow and blue could be obtained from the Zorn Palette by mixing yellow with black. A blue could be obtained by mixing black with white, though some blacks are probably more suitable for this than others.) There is no consensus in how-to books for painting regarding palettes. At least one I have favors having black, white and a warm and cool version of each of the three primaries. Other books acknowledge that, in theory, all colors can be mixed from the primaries (plus white and black to lighten or darken) -- but the chemistry of paint ingredients makes this impossible in practice. Therefore, one should use a variety of colors because this can get you closer to the colors you... posted by Donald at December 28, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Wednesday, December 17, 2008


Choosing a How-To-Paint Book -- 2
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- As long-time readers might recall, I majored in Commercial Art in college. Required courses included drawing, oil painting and watercolor -- the same ones regular art majors had to take. Actual instruction was almost non-existent, the students simply dabbed away and occasionally the instructor would offer a criticism. I never did practice art professionally, so when I retired I thought it might be interesting to take up oil painting just to get some idea as to how good I might have become if I had had better guidance. My schedule is too erratic and my income too reduced to sign up for studio classes at local schools that offer traditional training. I simply buy how-to books from time to time and do some dabbing when I find the time and inclination. In this post I mentioned that I prefer to buy how-to's by artists whose styles I like. My example was David Curtis who lives in England. Another artist with books and a nice (from my perspective) style is David A. Leffel. Internet-based biographical information is pretty thin. Some sources have him born in 1931, others say 1934; from circumstantial evidence, I'm inclined to accept the latter. He's from New York City, taught at the Art Students League, worked as a painter in the city for many years and now lives just outside Taos, New Mexico. This is the book I have. It contains a foreword by Leffel, but is really a compilation of class notes by the book's author, Linda Cateura. A few years ago, Leffel himself came out with a book, but it's pricey and I do not have a copy. Cateura's book is a mix of practical tips and philosophical musings. At first, I found the latter something of a turn-off. But a recent re-reading was much more useful; maybe I've made enough progress that Leffel's thoughts and instruction make better sense to me. If his work interests you and you're thinking about getting the book, there are plenty of readers' comments on Amazon that might help give you a more rounded picture; click on the first book link above. Below are some examples of Leffel's work that I found on the Web. They aren't necessarily his best, but indicate his style (influenced by Rembrandt and Chardin, among others). The book has plenty of good illustrations. Gallery David Leffel Millenium Portrait Apparently in homage to Rembrandt. Nude in White Chemise Harvey Peaches and Yellow Finches Of Rembrandt and Pushman Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 17, 2008 | perma-link | (2) comments

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


Alexander
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Tricycle's Katy Butler speaks with the architect and theorist Christopher Alexander, a hero of mine. It's a fascinating interview. Though I'm convinced that his recent four-volume mega-opus "The Nature of Order" is -- despite the fact that its apparent subject is architecture -- the great spiritual autobiography of our age, I've never seen Alexander speak so openly about religious matters. FWIW, I buy the wholeness / void / unfolding model entirely, and not because I'm making any willful effort in the direction of "belief," but because that's just what life has always seemed like to me. Related: Enjoy an eye-opening 2Blowhards interview with Nikos Salingaros, an associate of Christopher Alexander's and a major thinker about architecture in his own right: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five. Nikos' website is here, and is well worth exploring. The best place to start for those curious to try an Alexander book is, IMHO, with this one. Expensive, yes, but well worth the price. How often do you read a book that really turns your head around? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at December 16, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


Over-analyzing Art
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A few days ago I decided to take in a lecture at the Seattle Art Museum. The subject was their current exhibit of paintings of women by Edward Hopper. (A link to that exhibit is here.) The exhibit is small-scale (around ten paintings) in part because most major Hoppers were part of a major exhibition of his work that started in Boston, went to Washington and concluded in Chicago, where I happened to catch it just before it ended. The raison d'être for the Seattle show is Hopper's famous "Chop Suey" which has been designated to eventually become part of the museum's collection (the current owner is Barney Ebsworth). It was part of the traveling exhibition mentioned above and therefore unavailable for display at the museum until now. Chop Suey - 1929 More information on Hopper can be found here; scroll down to view "Nighthawks," perhaps his most famous painting. The lecture I attended was given by the show's curator and based largely on the catalog text she wrote. I don't think I'll bother to buy the catalog, even if its price is reduced after the exhibit closes. One reason is that reproductions of several of the paintings "bleed across the gutter" (to toss in printing jargon). That is, they occupy parts of adjoining pages, and this makes it almost impossible for a viewer to properly see the artwork. Shame! shame! shame!! Another reason I probably won't buy the catalog is the text. Assuming it closely follows the lecture material, the following points will be found: Hopper was a very shy guy, greatly influenced by a Victorian upbringing which held that "nice" women could only appear in public in certain well-defined circumstances. Due his shyness, he was something of a voyeur. He liked restaurants, where he could anonymously observe other people and perhaps sketch. She (the curator) made a big deal about the anonymity of New York automats, the setting of one of the paintings. There was a long discussion about women and how they gradually became able to eat alone in restaurants and go other places unaccompanied without comment. Somehow this ties into Hopper's shyness, Victorianism and the creation of his paintings of women in restaurant settings. This is pretty watery beer compared to other commentaries about artists and their paintings, where politically-correct conjecture is heaped on painters who worked centuries ago and never gave a thought about racism, sexism, imperialism and all those other isms so beloved of current academicians. I consider analyzing a painting in any time frame other than the one where it was created as being unfair both to the artist and the reader (an important exception being the placement of artists and work in the context of the history of art). Even though I'm as interested in gossipy details of a painter's life as the next person, psychology too is best avoided in analyses of paintings unless the artist was seriously abnormal and the abnormality is clearly reflected... posted by Donald at December 10, 2008 | perma-link | (12) comments

Monday, December 8, 2008


Contemporary Art: A Bursting Bubble?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- The Prospect magazine in the UK has an article titled "A second tulip mania" concerning prices and sales of contemporary art (tip from Arts & Letters Daily). The writers use economist Charles Kindleberger's classic analysis of speculation bubbles as a template for looking at that sector of the art market. You might want to read the entire article, but below are some out-takes in case the link goes bad. The bubble in contemporary art is about to pop. It has exhibited all the classic features of the South Sea bubble of 1720 or the tulip madness of the 1630s. It has been the bubble of bubbles—balancing precariously on top of other now-burst bubbles in credit, housing and commodities—and inflating more dramatically than all of them. While British house prices took six years to double at the start of this century, contemporary art managed it in just one, 2006-07. (Over the same period, old masters went up by just 7.6 per cent and British 17th to 19th century watercolours actually lost value.) ... The Chinese painter Zhang Xiaogang saw his work appreciate 6,000 times, from $1,000 to $6m (1999-2008); work by the American artist Richard Prince went up 60 to 80 times (2003-2008). The German painter Anselm Reyle was unknown in 2003; you could have picked up one of his stripe paintings for €14,000. Now he has a studio with 60 assistants turning them out for about €200,000 each. ... But this bubble is now deflating. Sotheby's share price has lost three quarters of its value over the past year, sinking from its peak of $57 in October 2007 to $9 in early November—close to its 1980s low of $8. The latest round of contemporary art auctions in London has gone badly. ... The way [that helped get the bubble started] was led by people like Charles Saatchi and the Miami property magnates, the Rubells. Saatchi laid down a blueprint in the late 1990s that others have tried to copy—he bought the work of young artists, established a museum in which to display it or lent it to public museums, and used the media interest that such shows attracted (by virtue of the outlandish works involved and the association of celebrities) to sell on part of the collection at auction at greatly inflated prices. Some of the proceeds would then be reinvested in the work of other new discoveries. Saatchi's famous 1997 show, "Sensation," demonstrated that this "specullecting" was a great way to make a splash as an arbiter of taste. ... Contemporary art turned out to be an ideal vehicle for speculative euphoria. The market is almost entirely free from state interference. Governments have had little interest in regulating the trinkets and playthings of the super-rich. Art works are a uniquely portable and confidential form of wealth. Whereas all property purchases have to be publicly registered, buying art is a private activity. And unlike old masters, which are often linked by history to specific... posted by Donald at December 8, 2008 | perma-link | (24) comments

Sunday, December 7, 2008


Name Changed, Guilty Protected
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I noticed the following announcement in the latest issue of the University of Washington alumni magazine: Effective Jan 1, the UW College of Architecture and Urban Planning will be renamed College of Built Environments [bold in original]. The Board of Regents approved the name change on Sept. 18. Dean Daniel S. Friedman says that the college is increasingly focused on sustainable practices and environmental quality, and that the new name is a way of making that official. "'College of Built Environments' better reflects our core responsibility to 21st century challenges -- urbanization, climate change and livable communities," Friedman says. Urban planning was always highly political. But now architecture has completed its transformation from art to politics -- at the University of Washington, in any event. "Hey Joe, what's your son up to these days?" "Well, he graduated from the U-Dub last spring and now he's a Built Environmentalist." One more reason to ignore the UWs pleas for monetary contributions from alumni. (State sales taxes provide core funding in any case.) Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 7, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Wednesday, December 3, 2008


Artist Post Link List (Donald) - 1
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A few months ago, Mary Scriver emailed me with the request that I compile a list of posts I wrote featuring artists. I finally got around to it. This is a link-index of my posts about artists as of early December, 2008. Please let me know of any errors or omissions. Anglada-Camarasa, Hermen Bama, James Bastien-Lepage, Jules Beaux, Cecilia Bischoff, Franz Boldini, Giovanni Casas, Ramon Curtis, David (England) Dewing, Thomas Wilmer Edelfelt, Albert Foujita Fuchs, Bernie Gajoum, Kal Gallén, Axel Goldbeck, Walter Dean Grün, Jules-Alexandre Herter, Albert Henry, George & Hornel. E.A. Hohlwein, Ludwig de Laszlo, Philip Alexius Levitan, Isaak Leyendecker, J.C. Macchiaioli (Italian group) Malczewski, Jacek Mathews, Arthur Pino Schjerfbeck, Helene Serov, Valentin Situ, Mian Sloan, John Sloan, John (update) Thayer, Abbot Handerson Thompson, Tom Tiepolo, Giavanni Battista Vettriano, Jack Vrubel, Mikhail This list will be updated from time to time. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at December 3, 2008 | perma-link | (10) comments

Tuesday, December 2, 2008


Not Learning from Las Vegas
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- This post is about architecture and Las Vegas. It's long (thanx to lotsa pix), so if neither topic is your cuppa, you have my permission to skip it. The title of this post is a takeoff from the well-known book Learning from Las Vegas by Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown. I never read it, but it's my understanding that they contended that the Vegas architecture of the time (circa 1970) was people-oriented whereas conventional Modernist architecture wasn't so much so. After my previous visit to Las Vegas I wrote this post about the huge project called CityCenter on the Strip that is being developed by our dear friends at MGM Mirage. I just returned from Vegas, and the present post can be taken as a "progress" report. The photos are mine -- uncropped, not Photoshopped: rock-hard reality, if I say so myself. For general information on CityCenter, click here. Their "vision statement" is here and information about the stellar (starchitect) team that was assembled to do the designing is here. Recent financing news of CityCenter was in this Las Vegas Review-Journal (8 October 2008) article. Key paragraph: In a statement, the company said it had secured a $1.8 billion senior bank credit facility, which matures in April 2013. The facility is expected to be increased to $3 billion as additional commitments are received. MGM Mirage Chief Financial Officer Dan D'Arrigo said CityCenter, which has a budget of $9.2 billion, has received additional signed commitment letters totaling more than $500 million. As you can see, the cost of the project is both huge and not yet fully funded. CityCenter and some large condominium projects are paying the price of the intrinsically risky mix of long lead-times and business cycles; coming on-line during a downturn means a diminished revenue stream. Gallery We start with some views of the Strip as we love/tolerate/hate it now. Some of the honky-tonk of the 1970 period the Venturis wrote about remains. Changes since then include the construction of huge casinos-cum-hotels-cum-shopping malls designed around various themes ranging from Venice to King Arthur. Yup, we're on the Vegas Strip all right. Seems to be a Harley kind of place, that Strip. For kids, there's the M&M store. And the Coca-Cola store. The Fashion Show mall is on the Strip. Inside, it's conventional, but the part facing the Strip isn't. (The foreground is part of the Wynn complex.) More style clutter. That familiar-looking campanile is part of the Venetian. Another themed complex is the Paris with its half-scale Eiffel Tower. This view of the Strip was taken from the grounds of the Mirage. Let's turn to CityCenter as it was Thanksgiving week. Note especially how large the building are as well as their architectural characteristics. This is a hotel-condo structure as seen from the Bellagio, to the north of CityCenter. It will shade the Bellagio's swimming pool area part of the day; perhaps not a bad thing in Las Vegas' summer. The... posted by Donald at December 2, 2008 | perma-link | (13) comments

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


DVD Journal: "Who Gets to Call It Art?"
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Geldzahler, painted by Alice Neal Peter Rosen's 2006 documentary "Who Gets to Call It Art?" tells the story of NYC artworld taste-maker / power-broker / connoisseur Henry Geldzahler. A buddy of Warhol and Hockney -- and, yes, since you may have been wondering, most definitely Ivy, Jewish, and gay -- Geldzahler was curator of contemporary art at the Metropolitan Museum in the 1960s, and he played a major role in getting a ponderous NYC art establishment to embrace the whimsies and playfulness of Pop Art. A happy networker and politically very astute, Geldzahler was an outsized version of a not-uncommon NYC type: the gayguy who lives for his taste and his friends, and whose personality is as much a work of art as any actual artist's creation. The film? Well, it's more of an art-thing in its own right than I generally like docs to be. But -- if you don't mind the pretentiousness and can forgive some huge gaps in information and exposition -- it's there to be enjoyed as a fact-based evocation of an epic time in American art. All that said ... The inbred-ness of the NYC artworld, eh? What I mainly came away from the DVD musing about was this: Isn't it funny how someone like Geldzahler could make a huge reputation for himself as a savvy, open, daring and refined bad boy by getting the artworld to accept Pop Art? What's so impressive about that? To me, getting the fine arts world to accept a new kind of fine art is like getting the French cooking world to accept a new kind of cream sauce, or the fashion world to embrace a new trend in necklaces. It's some kind of achievement, I guess. But perhaps the people who find it a hyper-impressive one are also people who take life inside the Charmed Circle a little too seriously. Meanwhile (and please heed a grumpiness alert here) it isn't at all uncommon for civilians -- people like, say, the inhabitants of this blog and many of its visitors -- to gab happily and un-self-consciously about book jackets, suburbia, cars, movies, fine art, ads, magazine design, skateboard photography, and thongs. It's all visual culture, folks. As for which culture-things from our era will last: Well, Time will tell, and will then probably change its mind. And -- since we won't be there to enjoy its verdict anyway -- why over-stress the question? No disrespect meant to Geldzahler, who was certainly an impressive phenomenon of some kind. Still: Who really deserves the rep as the more open-minded, free-thinking, visually-aware-and-responsive creature: the guy whose twinkling eyes and mind inflicted a little snuggly mischief on the inner circles of the self-declared art world? Or the interested and enthusiastic civilian whose brains and senses are open to a far wider visual-culture field? Here's Paul Goldberger's good obit of Henry Geldzahler, who died in 1994 at 59 years old. Fast-Forwarding Score: A tenth of the movie. The... posted by Michael at November 26, 2008 | perma-link | (1) comments

Visual Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * iPhone cubism. * FvBlowhard turned up a rewarding visual blog by a Virginia artist named Duane Keiser. Duane uses his blog to show off an appealing project that he's in the midst of: making a thousand very small paintings. I find Duane's art and blog very civilizing and enriching. I can see and feel his interest in what he sees and how to get it down, and I love the way he applies himself to his micro-paintings with calm focus and purpose. * Cultural Offering is a big fan of album-cover art. * Meet Shawn Kenney, an insightful realist who also seems interested in casting spells and evoking moods. * James Morrison's sensational Caustic Cover Critic blog is devoted to the appreciation of book-jacket design. This interview with designer Geoff Grandfield is a special treat. * Bonus Points: If Donald's gorgeous posting on Canadian giant Tom Thompson left you with a yen to explore a little more Canadian art, why not give FvBlowhard's Group of Seven epic and my appreciation of David Milne a try? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at November 26, 2008 | perma-link | (3) comments

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


Tom Thompson of Canada
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Last month, in this post about Ottawa's National Gallery of Canada I mentioned that I visited it beause I wanted to see paintings by the Group of Seven. They, and some associated artists, are well known in Canada but all but invisible "south of the line." Not entirely invisible, because I've spotted copies of this book at some of the better museum stores here in the States. I first became aware of them two or three years ago when browsing bookstores in Victoria, BC. The Group of Seven was an association of artists who painted scenes of the wilds of the Canadian Shield; the Wikipedia entry can be found here. The artist who sparkplugged the Seven was Tom Thompson, who never was part of the group because he died before the founding. In 1917 he set out in a canoe while in the wilderness and a week later his body was found. The consensus is that he drowned accidently. But as is the case regarding deaths of many famous people, there is a conspiracy theory holding that he was done in. Tom Thompson Regardless, in his short -- approximately five-year -- career in fine arts, he produced a number of impressive paintings. His large ones are bright and energetic, features that are ill-conveyed by reproductions in books. So to appreciate Thompson, by all means go to Ottawa and the National Gallery to view some of his best work. Thompson paintings can be found elsewhere in Canada, if Ottawa isn't convenient for you. Below are examples of Thompson's paintings. Gallery Northern River In the Northland Decorative Landscape Birches - 1915 Jack Pine - 1916 Birch Grove - 1915-16 The Pool Later, Donald... posted by Donald at November 25, 2008 | perma-link | (14) comments

Saturday, November 22, 2008


Re-Enacting: A Report from the Field
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- One of the many oddball American cultural activities I know nothing about is "re-enacting" -- the world of guys who dress up in period outfits and recreate Civil War battles. So when Bill S. - one of my oldest and best friends -- emailed me that he'd taken part in a re-enactment, I bugged him to let me reprint his note here on the blog. I'm pleased that he agreed. Here's a link to some video of the event Bill took part in. Here's some more officially-endorsed re-enactment footage: And here's Bill's account of his adventure: A few weeks ago, my wife and I visited her brother and sister-in-law in Maryland. My wife’s brother has been a Civil War re-enactor for a while now, and he finally got me to join him for the battle of Cedar Creek in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley. Crazy stuff. 4,000 re-enactors on an actual battleground fighting it out. We drove down to Cedar Creek while the girls treated themselves to a shop-a-thon. We arrived around nightfall. Seeing hundreds of tents and campfires in that beautiful valley, I felt like I had come unstuck in time (to quote Uncle Kurt Vonnegut). I really had no idea what I was getting into but my brother-in-law has been doing this for 20 years so knew exactly what to expect. We slept (barely) in 38 degree weather in an open-ended Civil War pup tent with two wool blankets each. I got about an hour of sleep fearing frostbite on my toes, but it certainly gets you into the experience. (And you and I thought some of those old Boy Scout winter campouts were rough!) The next morning it was drills. Each division has a captain who calls, literally, the shots. Ours was from the PA regiment. He totally looked Civil War, complete with overgrown moustache. He trained us during the day. I learned how to march, stack weapons, shoot a muzzle-loading musket, and skirmish. The captains train the troops to reenact the battles in a historically accurate manner. They may tell you, "we need to take some casualties," if that's what happened in the actual battle. The battle started at 3:00 that afternoon -- historically accurate. It was off the hook. I felt like I was living the first 15 minutes of “Saving Private Ryan.” You can't imagine the period rush you get when you see 2,000 Confederates coming at you over a hill with muskets blazing. The Confederates are evidently still pissed about losing the Civil War, as three minutes into the battle they went off the historic script and kept coming at us. Quite the thrill to have two ranks/lines of Confederate soldiers blasting their muskets at you from 50 feet away. The guns we re-enactors used are historic replications of Civil War muzzle-loaders. To fire, you tear off -- with your teeth if you're a mensch -- a gunpowder packet half the size of a cigarette and pour it directly... posted by Michael at November 22, 2008 | perma-link | (23) comments

Monday, November 17, 2008


Controversial J.C. Leyendecker
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- The latest addition to my art bookcase is this book about famed illustrator J.C. (Joseph Christian) Leyendecker (1874-1951), creator of the Arrow Collar/Arrow Shirt man and more Saturday Evening Post covers than Norman Rockwell. Both the book and Leyendecker are controversial. Leyendecker was almost surely (evidence is circumstantial, but strong) a closet homosexual who lived with Charles Beach, the main model for the Arrow advertisements (that's him in the book cover illustration, above). In this autobiographical book, his fellow New Rochelle resident Norman Rockwell devotes Chapter 9 to Leyendecker's odd living arrangement that included his brother, illustrator F.X. Leyendecker who died of dissipation in 1924, and never-married sister Mary who left the mansion shortly after F.X.'s death. Eventually Beach gained control of most household affairs, turning an already shy Joe Leyendecker into a recluse. As for the book, one Amazon reviewer felt that the narrative contained too much material about Leyendecker's sexual orientation and its implications. I agree. Perhaps Leyendecker material is lacking, so they had to pad the book with speculation and possibly exaggerated claims about homosexual subtexts in his art. My reaction was that this material was overly pro-homosexual. On the other hand, one Amazon reviewer characterized it as homophobic. Whatever. I would have loved more information regarding how he constructed his paintings. The authors, active in the illustration art gallery scene, could have contributed their views or else might have brought in professional illustrators to assess some of Leyendecker's finished works and studies. But that's just me; I'm interested in how stuff gets done. A possibly more serious problem is that the book contains some images that are not Leyendecker's. The double-spread on pages 98-99 has been cited in Amazon reviews and a painted sketch of a man's head on page 75 has been called into question, probably legitimately. On the plus side, the book has plenty of examples of Leyendecker's work. My main quibble here is that the authors tended to full-page too many New Year's magazine cover illustrations featuring baby 1934 or whatever. One or two would have been fine, but I wanted to see other subjects in full page rather than thumbnail format (many pages are of small images of magazine covers). My conclusion is that the book is worth buying, but only at the Amazon price, not the list price. More Internet information on Leyendecker includes this page by Bill Plante and David Apatoff's fascinating presentation of Leyendecker studies here (scroll down to June 17, 2007). Here are a few examples of Leyendecker's work for those of you who aren't familiar with it. Gallery Study of drum major - no date Arrow advertisement - 1930 Couple descending staircase - 1932 Matters of overt/covert homosexual symbolism aside, just how should an artist portray men in advertising? (I used the word "artist" in the illustrator/Leyendecker sense, but the issue is the same when selecting photography models.) A typical semi-slobby guy isn't likely to enhance a product's image, in most... posted by Donald at November 17, 2008 | perma-link | (14) comments

Tuesday, November 11, 2008


Over? Under? Sideways? Down?
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Funny how all those cartoons and jokes about abstract art ("My kid coulda done it," etc) seem to come true, isn't it? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at November 11, 2008 | perma-link | (7) comments

Friday, November 7, 2008


Art Recession Datapoint
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I was chatting up the owner of a Santa Barbara area art gallery this afternoon and turned up the following tidbit regarding one of the effects of the latest recession. It seems that some customers are trying to bypass galleries by dealing directly with the artists. Buyers would save most or all of the markup and artists would get as much or more than they would have otherwise. (This assumes no change in the gallery-market value of the art. Changes in that and auction prices are a subject for another day.) Later, Donald... posted by Donald at November 7, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Tuesday, November 4, 2008


Architecture Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * How do Americans really feel about the small towns they claim to revere? * Giles found Christopher Alexander's "The Timeless Way of Building" to be a life-changing work. A lot of people have reacted that way to Alexander's books. * The Ottawa Citizen visits with Sarah "Not So Big House" Susanka. Michael Blowhard heartily endorses Susanka's helpful and beautiful books and websites, which are very much in the Christopher Alexander tradition, and which offer tons of useful ideas and tips. * Roger Scruton blogs! Sort of. But still! If you didn't know: Scruton isn't just a philosopher, he's one of the most substantial and provocative writers about architecture around. * Are English towns and cities designed more for men than they are for women? Englishwomen's main complaint: not enough public loos. (Link thanks to Dave Lull.) * MBlowhard Rewind: Our federal government used to commission and create beautiful buildings. Why does it now sponsor such awful and repellant work? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at November 4, 2008 | perma-link | (4) comments

Thursday, October 30, 2008


Please Explain: Cezanne
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I decided to start a short series about famous artists whose paintings I don't "get." The concept is for you, our Valued Readers, to step in (in Comments) and set poor, thick-headed me straight regarding the featured artist. Here's the deal: I know that the artist is famous and was to a greater or lesser degree influential in his own time and for at least a while thereafter. However, this fame and influence is mostly in the context of the history of Modernism and Modernist painting. At the extreme, the artist is venerated because he is seen as an evolutionary link in Modernism's progression to abstraction and beyond; he is an interesting fossil such as creatures emerged from the seas eons ago that were transforming fins into feet. But what about the art itself, absent its historical context? Seen in isolation from that context, is it really any good? In general, I don't think it's great. I actually find little appeal at all and scratch my head, wondering what all the fuss is about. Why am I wrong? The first artist is Paul Cézanne. He was an outsider in more than one respect for much of his career. Fame and veneration came fairly late in life, though some artists such as Camille Pissarro recognized value in what he was attempting fairly early on. This was despite the fact (in my judgment) that Cézanne was never better than a mediocre draftsman (in my skill league, in other words). Moreover, I find the struggle he shared with other artists to "honor" the flatness of the surface of the canvas to be an odd diversion akin to attempting to square the circle. Hey, gang, if you want to paint things flat, that's fine; so is attempting to create a feeling of depth. No big deal either way, I say. Here are some representative Cézanne paintings. Gallery The Card Players - 1890-92 One of his better-known paintings. I assume that getting the men right was one of his lesser priorities in this effort. Still Life with Apples and Oranges - 1900 I think Cézanne's best paintings were still lifes. I don't have a title or date for this one, but it's clearly one of the many landscapes he painted in the vicinity of Aix-en-Provence where he spent much of his life. Okay, have at me. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 30, 2008 | perma-link | (14) comments

Sunday, October 26, 2008


Save the Embassy?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- It seems that the days of the American Embassy in London are numbered. One article I read mentioned that some people would like to see the building preserved. It was designed by Eero Saarinen and completed in 1960, not long before the architect's death. His major works include the General Motors Technical Center in Warren, Michigan, the giant riverfront arch in St. Louis, the main terminal building at Dulles airport near Washington and the former TWA terminal at New York's JFK airport. See the link for more information. Deciding which buildings deserve preservation is a tricky business. For instance, 50 years ago many people, myself included, would have been happy to see all those old-fashioned brick office and warehouse buildings from the 1885-1905 period fall under the wrecker's ball. Today, such structures are treasured. So one should be cautious when advocating that certain buildings be destroyed. I have given the matter regarding the London embassy some thought. And I say it deserves to be smashed into the tiniest possible dust particles. The building is ugly. It utterly destroyed the ambiance of Grosvenor Square and should be replaced with buildings compatible with existing structures. It is not one of Saarinen's best designs (I'm fond of the TWA terminal, myself). So it should go. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 26, 2008 | perma-link | (21) comments

Thursday, October 16, 2008


Architecture and Happiness: Goleta Pier
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Maybe what you remember from your recent visit to Europe or Chicago is the great buildings listed in the tourist guide. Or are you remembering postcards and photographs of them instead? ... But maybe what you remember with the most pleasure from your visit -- what you can still feel deep in your very own cells; what you really took away, for your very own self -- is the pleasure of breakfast at an out-of-the-way cafe, or the view down an unnamed alley, or leaning over a bridge and watching a river go by, or just enjoying the comfort of your hotel room's bed for a long lazy morning. Those are architectural experiences of worth too. Why aren't they recognized and discussed as such? A good architectural question: Why did you enjoy a long lazy morning in one hotel room and not in another? Architecture in the usual unique-masterpiece-torn- from-its-context sense involves too much self-consciousness, too much learning. It's unnatural, and it often doesn't correspond to our actual experiences of places. Architecture came into focus for me when I woke up to the fact that there was no reason to limit my interest to masterpieces and geniuses, let alone to buildings ripped from their context. Instead, I could let myself take in the entire built environment. Like that, parks, streets, the spaces between buildings, farms, trees, lawns, barns, and towns opened up to me as "architecture" too. I've been a happy (instead of a frustrated) fan ever since, with my eyes open nearly all the time to where I am and to what's around me. In fact, I often get so absorbed by the spaces between the masterpieces that I overlook the masterpieces. Between you and me, I don't generally find this to be any big loss. Which bring me to the no-masterpiece-but-still-wonderful structure I want to show off today: Goleta Pier, sometimes known as More's Landing, a pier off a beach about 10 miles up the coast from Santa Barbara, California, near Isla Vista. Let me take you on a quick tour, showing off some of the pier's virtues. For starters: The Pier interacts well with its environment: It punctuates the bay, and brings out its natural qualities, the way spices used well don't cover up a dish's major ingredients but instead complement them and show them off. Imagine this bay and beach without Goleta Pier. It'd be a lovely place still, but perhaps somewhat less defined and less memorable. The pier works -- it has "interest" -- not just from one distance and from one point of view. It's interesting and engaging from numerous angles, and from numerous points of view. Open secret: A common failing of modernist buildings is that, while they can have a lot of visual impact, they often have their full effect only when seen from one or two specific places. They aren't engineered for the use of 3D people, each of whom has his own purposes. Instead,... posted by Michael at October 16, 2008 | perma-link | (9) comments

Sunday, October 12, 2008


Safdie Designs a Gallery
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I recently wrote about Ottawa and Moshe Safdie. Now I'll combine the two by discussing his National Gallery of Canada building in Ottawa. To set the scene, here are the photos I took of it. Gallery This is the National Gallery as seen from near the Parliament building (to get some orientation, see the pictures in the first link, above). The following two pictures are interior views of the long, glazed wall and the glazed tower on the corner of the structure. This is what that glazed wall looks like from the inside. As you see, it's actually a gallery of sorts, the left side being windows with a view of Parliament Hill. The floor is a long ramp leading up to the glass tower and the first art galleries floor. This is the interior of the glass tower as seen from the upper art gallery floor. A coffee shop dining area is on the first level. And there is a fine view of Parliament Hill to savor. The National Gallery opened 1988 to a positive review by Paul Goldberger of The New York Times. My opinion is that the southern exterior, the one shown in the photo, holds the most interest; the rest of the building that I saw (I didn't walk around it, so might have missed a few things) is rather bland and nothing special. The best thing Safdie did was realize that, in many respects, the view from the building is almost as important as the view of the building. Hence the sloping-ramp gallery and glazed tower. These are two structural instances where Modernism can work well, though I can imagine some traditionally-based solutions that might work about as well. I wasn't happy with the layout of the main gallery wing. That might have had to do with the fact that we had a time budget of around an hour and I especially wanted to see the museum's display of Tom Thompson and Group of Seven artists. The trouble is, that particular display was diagonally opposite the glazed tower area entry to the galleries so, map in hand, I had to work my way around lots of less important stuff to get where I wanted to go. The layout is basically a racetrack pattern with two large galleries in the middle and a limited number of cross-paths. I would have preferred more entry points than the ones from the tower corner. The layout is simply too constrictive, too controlled. I recognize that there is probably no ideal museum layout, though my gut feeling is that a central entry with a set of branching-out points (perhaps along with peripheral race-tracks) might be better than alternatives. My take is that Safdie made visitor circulation subservient to his ramp-and-tower concept. All of which is not to say that it's a botched job. The museum is okay. The nice views are counterbalanced by a flawed circulation design. The exterior could easily be improved, but... posted by Donald at October 12, 2008 | perma-link | (1) comments

Saturday, October 11, 2008


Ottawa Isn't Rome
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Rome -- Imperial and Renaissance -- seems to have been on the minds of architects and planners of Washington, D.C. and many state capitals in the United States. Domes, columns, pilasters and other Classical details abound. Ottawa, Canada's capital, took a different architectural route. Perhaps it was a slackening interest in classically-inspired styles such as Greek Revival and growing interest in Romanesque and Gothic styles (probably thanks to London's rebuilt Parliament). At any rate, Parliament Hill is utterly different from Washington's Mall. The above link offers a useful historical overview, so I'll sketch only some points needed to set the scene for my photos below. Ottawa was designated Canada's capital in 1859, some eight years before the British North America Act of 1867 created what essentially is modern Canada (as opposed to colonial Canada). Among the factors for Ottawa's selection was that it was comparatively safe from attacks by the United States. That's because Ottawa is situated at the point where the Rideau Canal reaches the Ottawa River. The canal was completed in 1832 to preserve Canadian logistical connections in the event of yet another U.S. invasion. (Water-borne communications -- key, before railroads -- between Toronto and Montréal had been along the St. Lawrence River, a stretch of which borders on the United States.) The canal is about 125 miles long, 12 of which had to be dug and the rest being existing waterways. Once completed, boats and barges from Toronto could exit Lake Ontario at Kingston, take the canal to Ottawa and then head downstream on the Ottawa River, reaching the St. Lawrence just upstream from Montréal, totally avoiding the U.S. border. Topographically, Ottawa has Parliament Hill which forms a bluff overlooking the Ottawa River. Across the river is Gatineau, Québec which is part of the capital area. The east end of Parliament Hill drops off to the Rideau Canal near where it joins the river. On the other side of the canal is the Rideau area which offers the points from where I took some of the photos. Gallery Sighting down Wellington Street. Don't see any marble or columns. A comparatively recent addition to the Parliament Hill complex is the Supreme Court building. The white façade is out of character, but the roof isn't. Here is the centerpiece of the hill -- the Parliament Building. And this is a view of its backside taken from the Rideau area. The building in the foreground with the tapered roof is the library, which escaped the fire that destroyed the previous parliament structure. Same viewpoint, less zoom. The light colored building on the left is the Hotel Laurier, one of Canada's great railroad hotels. It was built by the Grand Trunk Railway which was later merged into the Canadian National. The light structure at water level is the first lock of the Rideau Canal. The Laurier as seen, seriously wide-angled, from across Rideau Street. The Rideau Canal as seen from the bridge to the left... posted by Donald at October 11, 2008 | perma-link | (16) comments

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


How Does One Paint a Martian Princess?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Tarzan author Edgar Rice Burroughs created many more characters than the Ape Man and Jane. Over the years, I've probably read more of the John Carter of Mars series than Tarzan books. Burroughs invented the supposed local name for the planet, "Barsoom," and some sources refer to the series by that name. In brief, John Carter gets wafted off to Mars while in a sort of dream-state while lying helpless in a cave in the desert southwest. Being pretty heroic to begin with, he is able to exploit his Earth-based strength in the weaker Martian gravity to perform seriously heroic feats while the entranced reader hurriedly flips the pages. Most or all of the Mars books are in the public domain. For instance, you can click here for the on-line Project Gutenberg release of A Princess of Mars, the first in the series. In that book, Carter encounters the beautiful Dejah Thoris, princess of one of Mars' kingdoms, who he eventually marries. Okay. Assume that a new edition of the book is on the way. Cover art is needed. Lots of strange, dangerous Martian creatures. A sword-wielding hero. A gorgeous princess. A different planet. What should the cover artist do? As it happened, most or all of the above elements have been included by just about every cover artist hired for the Mars series. Some examples are below. Gallery By Frank Schoonover - 1917 Schoonover, a top-notch illustrator, was trained by Howard Pyle in the early years of the last century. The scene looks vaguely Greco-Persian aside from what appear to be pistols on Carter's belt. Although he did advertising illustration and book covers such as the one shown, Schoonover's specialty was North Woods type scenes, this based on travels he made north of the Great Lakes around the time he left Pyle's school. Barsoom is far from the world of trappers and the RCMP -- and it shows, in this early cover. By Robert Abbett - c. 1970 I suppose this was intended to be dramatic. But c'mon -- the princess seems bored or distracted rather than terrified or even concerned about the outcome of John Carter's fight. A recent Penguin edition A recent Townsend Press edition In both cases, I wasn't able to find artist information. The Penguin cover seems more skillfully done. Like the Abbett illustration, we have a struggle going on, but Dejah Thoris clearly is not really part of that scene, even factoring in her shackles. The Townsend illustration doesn't show that she is the most beautiful creature on Mars; she hardly seems worth fighting for. Oh well, enough farm team stuff. On to the goodies. Frank Frazetta - c.1970 Frazetta practically owns the fantasy art franchise even though he has been retired for several years. Dejah Thoris and John Carter come off appropriately iconic. And if Carter's duel is already over ... well, who really cares; I'm too busy checking out Dejah. I bought this circa 1963 book... posted by Donald at October 7, 2008 | perma-link | (19) comments

Habitat 67 Today
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- On our recent trip to Canada we allotted two full days for Montreal. Since Nancy had never been there, I largely let her determine what we would visit. Had we spent another day or two in town, a site I might have gotten around to seeing would have been Moshe Safdie's Habitat '67, built in conjunction with Expo 67, Montreal's world's fair of 1967. Or maybe not: it would depend on if I could be free to wander around it above ground level. As it was, the closest I got to it was the edge of the old town Montreal where I snapped the following picture. About all it proves is that Habitat still exists. For more on Habitat '67, the Wikipedia entry is here. A web page with lots of photos, some links and other information is here. Habitat '67 was the subject of a lot of attention when it was built. I know it intrigued me because my take was that it featured orthodox modernism in the form of rectangular modules that were combined in what appeared to be an organic manner. Lazy me, I haven't followed up on the fate of Habitat nor have I paid much attention to Safdie's later career (I will write a post on his Ottawa National Gallery soon, however). No doubt Habitat inspired other architects to try out some of Safdie's concepts. Even so, I haven't noticed many (or any) Habitats were I live or travel. Can any readers bring me and the rest of us up to speed? How is the original Habitat doing? Since it's not a publicly subsidized and operated project, presumably residents chose to move there and would be predisposed to like it -- but do they, once the novelty has worn off? And how well does the place function? For instance, is it easy for residents to haul groceries or new pieces of furniture up to their apartments? Why havn't we seen lot of Habitat-like structures? Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 7, 2008 | perma-link | (11) comments

Monday, October 6, 2008


Stores With Art Books
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Now that I'm retired, my book-buying budget has taken a serious hit. Good thing I scarfed a bunch of art books while I was still working. That combination of having built up a pretty good library and having to watch my pennies doesn't mean I don't keep browsing. It means that I'm better at resisting a diminishing amount of temptation. Nowadays my problem is that the really nice, interesting art books are often pretty expensive -- in the $65-$100+ range when I start to get the cold shakes around $55. Leaving aside the Internet, finding decent art books in stores can be chancy. I've probably mentioned several times that even big-box stores such as Barnes & Noble vary considerably in their wares. An ordinary B&N might only have one or two shelf sections devoted to a combination of art crit, art history, painter biographies, how-to books and perhaps some photography titles. But B&Ns near college campuses or upscale neighborhoods can have much larger art sections. Perhaps the largest arts-related bookstore I've encountered is Hennessy & Ingalls in Santa Monica. Aside from there, museum stores at major art museums usually offer good selections. You can get a discount if you are a museum member, and they can have sales from time to time. On my recent trip to the Northeast and Canada I managed to duck into some museum stores. Here's what I found. Boston's Museum of Fine Arts had a very nice store, meaning that the selection was plentiful. I walked out with a not very costly book about British Impressionism. On the other hand, the Museé National des Beaux-Arts du Québec shop was small and had few books of any kind. The Museé des Beaux-Arts de Montréal was much better. Plenty of books. And a large share of them in French -- a nice thing if you want to learn more about not-so-famous-but-good French artists. I shagged two books about Maurice Denis. Also good was the shop at Ottawa's National Gallery of Canada. I bought small books about Tom Thompson and Clarence Gagnon. We also visited the Agnes Etherington Art Centre at Queens University in Kingston, Ontario which sports two small Rembrandts and some Group of Seven works. But the shop was small and there were few books. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at October 6, 2008 | perma-link | (4) comments

Saturday, October 4, 2008


Canadian Spaces
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Today I'd like to toss out for your inspection two places I recently photographed in Canada. The only connection I'll make is that I liked one site and hated the other. Of course, you are free to make comparisons and contrasts. Here is some grist for such activity. The first site is Montreal's Olympic Park, built for the 1976 games. It's still used for sports events, but traffic has to be less than even a couple of years ago before the Expos baseball team decamped to Washington, D.C. One Olympic structure has been converted into a kind of wintergarden containing nature displays; it's now called the Biodome. The architetcure on the site is a sort of non-retro postmodernist -- there's lots of reinforced concrete, but the signature buildings are sculptural rather than geometric. The other site is the new (opened 2004) Fallsview Casino Resort in Niagara Falls. It's privately owned and managed, but the province of Ontario gets a cut of the profits. Las Vegas abandoned the gambling factory casino style about 20 years ago for semi-traditional architecture and lots of flash to wow the tourists and players. The Fallsview budget was probably less than that of the Bellagio, but the designers gave it a good try. Here are some photos. Gallery Olympic Park -- Montreal Perhaps the best-known structures in Olympic Park are the Biodome (left), the Olympic Stadium (hidden) and its tower (right) that supports its roof. A funicular car takes passengers to the top of the tower where there is an observation room. Looking down at the Biodome from the observation station. Another ground-level view of the Biodome. Its grounds are basically a large paved surface interrupted by those potted trees and the flag area. Looking towards the left we can see ... In principle, large crowds need to be accommodated on occasion, but these spaces are sterile. Fallsview Casino Resort -- Niagara Falls, Ontario Here is a view of the part of the exterior facing the falls. Near the street entrance is this sculpture evoking electrical power generation related to the falls, a heritage of the casino site. Those circular objects near the base aren't car tires; they do turn, representing dynamos driven by water turbines. At the top are cables representing power lines. Another view of the court near the sculpture. These design evokes late 19th century industrial Art Nouveau. This was taken just inside the hotel entrance indicated to the right of the previous photo. The theme shifts towards the classical. View of the shopping arcade. Note the dark band of Louis Sullivan-like Art Nouveau reliefs above the windows. The interior of the rounded atrium shown in the first photo. This is at the shops level; escalators towards the left-center lead down to a food court level and the exit to the falls viewing terrace. My verdict: given a choice, I'd much prefer to hang out at the casino (I don't gamble). And your take? (Comments on changing... posted by Donald at October 4, 2008 | perma-link | (9) comments

Thursday, October 2, 2008


Art Book Pictures Are Fine, But ...
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I have a lot of books about art -- painting and illustration, actually. The quality of the reproductions in the newer ones is a lot better than it was for the old books. Even if the printer was in a back alley someplace in Ceylon, the quality seems pretty good. (Yes, I know the place is now called Sri Lanka or some such moniker. But my choice of place-names happens to be whimsical with a tendency to favor the names I learned when young. Bombay, anyone? Burma? Chungking? Peking or maybe Beiping? However, I much prefer St. Petersburg to Leningrad -- but hey! St. Pete came first, right?) Anyway, before I distracted myself I was about to make the point that I rely heavily on the color reproductions for understanding the works and to form judgments. That's because I have little choice. Seattle's far more big-time than it was when I was growing up, but its art museums aren't yet first-rate. So to experience lots of top-notch painting, I need to travel to Chicago, New York, Boston, Washington or major European cities. Those of you living in the BosWash corridor really have it lucky if you're art fans. When traveling, I prefer strolling city streets to museum-going. But if I have the time and there's a major museum handy, I'll step in and check out the galleries that interest me. On my recent visit to Boston, I finally made it to the Museum of Fine Arts. It's undergoing expansion, so I don't know how representative the displays were. My main goal was to see what they had in the way of John Singer Sargent's work, and I had a few other items in mind. Among the hangings were: Gallery Isabella and the Pot of Basil -- John White Alexander, 1897 This was one of those "other" paintings. I'm pleased that it was on view and not in storage. Promise of Spring -- Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, 1890 Boston was the first city we visited on a 16-day trip, and traveling tends to give me a memory-wipe. I definitely saw a Tadema, and I'm almost sure this was the one. A small painting, and not one of his best. Still, Bravo! to the MFA for displaying an artist whose works were laughed at 50 years ago. A Caprioti -- John Singer Sargent, 1878 I didn't have to travel all the way to Boston to see this one: a near-duplicate is in a Seattle collection and was on display recently at the Seattle Art Museum. This is one of a series of paintings Sargent made on a visit to Capri. Mrs Fiske Warren and Daughter Rachel -- John Singer Sargent, 1903 One of Sargent's later society paintings. It's a little high-key for my taste, but I was fascinated by his brushwork on the clothing. The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit -- John Singer Sargent, 1882 In recent years, art critics and commentators have allowed themselves to get... posted by Donald at October 2, 2008 | perma-link | (12) comments

Tuesday, September 30, 2008


A False Future Glimpsed
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Towards the end of my high school career I'd often hop a bus for downtown after school and get off near the Seattle Public Library's main branch, an old, gray Carnegie donation. Then I'd spend an hour or so browsing the art, architecture and some other sections before walking the two blocks to my father's office to hitch a ride home with him. Most of the architecture books I studied dealt with Modernism, and I had totally bought into its ideology/religion at that time. Maybe one reason I did so was because hardly any significant Modernist structures had been built in Seattle by the mid-1950s, so I had no idea of the visual damage they would cause. The International Style (the Museum of Modern Art's name for it) buildings I saw were in the form of drawings, models and photos in books and architecture magazines. They looked clean and exciting. Particularly seductive was the work of Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. Here is one of his proposals from around 1920. This sort of thing would give my college architectural history professor heart throbs. Form following function. Truth to materials. And you can see it all! Clearly!! Too bad for Mies and the Prof that real buildings almost never came off that way. Except at night when rooms are lighted, glass-clad buildings simply reflect stuff, a characteristic more recent architects have exploited. Nevertheless, once in a while one can glimpse in reality what van der Rohe and his kind had intended. Below is a recent photo I took of a building under construction in Toronto. Lighting conditions were just right to give it the effect Mies was striving for. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 30, 2008 | perma-link | (7) comments

Friday, September 19, 2008


Annabella at 15
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- A spin-off from my recent posting about Sofia Coppola's "Marie Antoinette" ... Here's the website of Annabella Lwin, the onetime jailbait-sexpot singer for Bow Wow Wow. Here's the record jacket that made her notorious even in punk circles. Be forewarned: Annabella was only 15 when that sexy photo was taken. What ought to be made of the under-ageness question? Do we have no choice but to draw a line and condemn the image as evil? Despite the fact that it's funny and cute? Despite the fact that it has already attained minor-modern-icon semi-immortality? And despite the fact that the punk scene was teeming with lovably trampy 15 year old girls? Bonus point: The girl in "Mademoiselle O'Murphy," aka "Nude on a Sofa," was 14 at the time Boucher painted her. Kiddie cheesecake? Or a classic work of art? Shortly after the painting was completed Louis XV took the little charmer as a mistress. Read more here. So what kind of misbehavior-slack do we need to cut the arts scene? Best, Michael... posted by Michael at September 19, 2008 | perma-link | (39) comments

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


More Scruton
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Here's a beautiful, many-sided, and stimulating new interview (conducted by Diederik Boomsma) with the British philosopher Roger Scruton. Islam, architecture, conservatism, the nation-state ... Loads going on here. One of many fab passages: Question: If modern architecture and modern art is so ugly and devoid of meaning, why don't more people criticize and oppose it? Answer: Everybody criticizes modern art and architecture except the professional critics who know on which side their bread is buttered. We are returning to a more humane architecture, thanks to Leon Krier, et al., and the New Urbanist movement. What would it take? Enlightened patronage, such as displayed by the Prince of Wales; a spirit of defiance towards pseuds like Rem Koolhaas and Daniel Libeskind, a willingness to tell the truth about people like the fascist Le Corbusier and the communist Gropius, and a decision finally to say that the city is ours, not theirs. Bonus points: Another long interview with Scruton. A blogposting I wrote about how rewarding I've found it to wrestle with the thoughts of humane conservatives. I'm no conservative myself, but I've certainly learned a lot from exploring the works of smart and classy righties. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at September 16, 2008 | perma-link | (1) comments

Thursday, September 11, 2008


Choosing a How-to-Paint Book
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I've griped more than once on this blog about my lousy art training: here, for instance. The consequence when I decided to take up painting again as I was about to retire was that I ran out and bought a how-to-paint book. Then I bought another. And another. Must have 20 of the darn things now. Since it seems that I'm finally improving at little at painting, I've cut down on such purchases. Along the way, I discovered that they don't always agree with one another. This is understandable because painting, believe it or not, is an art, not a science. Another reason for cutting down on purchases is that there's a lot of agreement between the books (along with those differences), so any new purchase usually yields a large amount of redundancy. After all, painting can be as much a craft as an art, and the purpose of those books is to provide time-tested rules-of-thumb such as "thick over thin" for painting in oils. Nowadays, I tend to look for books that deal with specific aspects of art that I know I need to work on (such as clothing and how fabrics drape). Otherwise, I'll thumb through a book to look at the author's style of painting. If the style doesn't interest or impress me, I probably won't buy the book. But if I find the style interesting and wish that I could incorporate aspects of it in my own work, I'm likely to swipe the plastic through the card reader or call up the amazon.com site and add the tome to my too-large collection. (Hmm. Next time I go to Powell's in Portland, I ought to bring some of the losers along and try to sell them.) This book by British painter David Curtis is an example of a how-to book I bought because the author's style impressed me. Here are some examples of his work I found on the Internet. Some are found in the book, but the book contains others that I find even more interesting. Gallery I don't have a title for this. Curtis is mostly a landscape guy, but does the occasional portrait. Moorings on the Chesterfield Canal Pembrokeshire Sea Cliffs, Port St. Justinian Rocky Cove, Lleyn Peninsula Rooftops and Cliffs, Staithes Fine Autumn Day, Clayworth Wharf Vintage Car Workshop Strikes me as an oils version of Frank Wootton's charcoal automobile drawings. You can't really tell from the sampling above, but Curtis tends to dramatize his paintings by selecting a sun angle that approaches backlighting. Neat trick, though it can become a crutch or habit. One dark secret he didn't reveal was how he does those thin lines needed to depict ships' rigging; I'd love to know that. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 11, 2008 | perma-link | (20) comments

Tuesday, September 2, 2008


Book Draft Snippet
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I'm still chipping away on that proposal for a book about non-Modenist painting since 1900. I have two sample chapters drafted and am working on a chapter that is intended to set the stage before dealing with the art I wish to highlight. I'm finding that this is akin to writing the state-of-things chapter of a Masters thesis or Ph.D. dissertation. Slow, nasty work; it's rather like trying to pull chickens' teeth. At any rate, it finally seems to be shaping up so I'd thought I'd toss out a paragraph for you to ponder. No guarantee that it'll even be in the draft I mail to publishers; and if it's panned, I'll probably jerk it. In preceding paragraphs I suggest that paintings with staying power are likely to be connected to life experiences common across centuries. I continue with ... Now, I expect some readers to recoil in shock and accuse me of implying that for art to “last,” it must appeal to the lowest common denominator of emotion and taste. I made no such implication, but raise the matter of popularity at this point because it is one of those issues that is constantly present, yet seldom in the forefront of discussions about art. To condemn something for being popular is a form of elitism stemming from the belief that the very best art is a rare thing. So far, so good, regarding the art itself; excellent examples of anything are rare by definition because if they were not excellent they would be good, average or not good -- most things being near average. Where elitism goes wrong is when some elitists think that the same thing holds with regard to art appreciation and that it is they who know best and the other 90 percent or whatever share of the population does not and probably cannot properly appreciate art and whose preferences in art should be dismissed as naïve or even boorish. While it is true that some people put more effort in appreciating art than others, it does not follow that the heavy appreciators necessarily have the best taste; it is possible that they have gotten themselves so wrapped up in theories and wanting to be part of an “in-group” that the art they are supposedly appreciating becomes a secondary matter. I hope to launch the proposal after I get back from a trip to Boston, Québec, etc. Let me thank vanderleun for some thought-provoking tips regarding the publishing industry. But if I screw this up, it it'll be my fault, not his. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at September 2, 2008 | perma-link | (9) comments

Friday, August 29, 2008


Questions
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- A line of questions for the day, prompted by this typically beyond-absurd Nicolai Ouroussoff piece from the NYTimes: Why are mainstream architecture critics so focused on such a narrow sliver of building-activity and aesthetic experience? And why are they so averse to taking note of life as it's actually lived? Translated into action, this latter question might lead a critic to -- oh, I don't know -- pass up the latest Gehry or Hadid and instead visit the malls, developments, schools, restaurants, and parks that real people really interact with, learning about and from them, and offering critiques and appreciations. A pretty radical thought, I know ... And -- further! -- why are civilians (and editors, who are supposed to represent the interests of their readers) so willing to put up with this kind of twee carrying-on? Funny how certain kinds of kooky behavior can become the expected thing, isn't it? For example, we take it for granted that an architecture critic should be spending most of his column inches pontificating about the likes of Steven Holl. Yet if the Times' food coverage only concerned the latest $500-a-plate chic eateries -- neglecting cheaper places, farmer's markets, home cooking, etc -- we'd all be having daily laughs at the expense of the newspaper's clueless and pompous twerpery. Further comparisons: What if a magazine's "music coverage" only took in the latest bits of spikey experimentalism? Of if its "movie coverage" paid attention only to the hottest expressions of post-avant-garde-ism? All of which makes me wonder: Where architecture and architecture criticism are concerned, why don't we have a more active (perhaps even a "vibrant") let's-ridicule-these- snobs-out-of-existence movement in the blogosphere? My hunch of an answer: Since many people spend zero time taking note of their environment, it never occurs to them to search out quality conversation about it. Too bad. Link thanks to the smart, funny, and quirky Gil Roth, who has recently been reading Montaigne and enjoying the company of Rufus the daffy and irresistible greyhound. For some reason, when I try to link to Gil's site, the effort torpedos this posting. Gil's site, which otherwise behaves perfectly well, is at: http://chimeraobscura.com Get to know Rufus at: http://chimeraobscura.com/vm/dog-days/ Go and visit. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at August 29, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


Munich's Master Poster Artist
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- He wasn't a professional painter. I don't even know if he painted as a hobby. So I can't call him a Peripheral Painter for that reason. Nor can I call him "peripheral" because his work is well known to poster-art buffs. On the other hand, even though New York's Museum of Modern Art has a few of his posters in its collection, his work wasn't avant-garde enough to satisfy modernist purists. That and the fact that he did posters for government agencies during Hitler's regime in Germany. The artist in question is Ludwig Hohlwein (1874-1949) who began his studies as an architect, but made his career as a Munich-based poster artist. I haven't been able to find much biographical information about him aside from here and here. The second link is to Paul Giambarba's illustration site, which is well worth perusal. Below are examples of Hohlwein's work. The Giambarba link has some of these as well as other examples. Many more can be seen by googling on Ludwig Hohlwein and then linking to Images. Gallery Combination of a top poster artist and top automobile. Makes me want to dash off and buy that car. (Hope it has air conditioning, a six-speed automatic transmission, a GPS and good fuel economy.) "Spring in Wiesbaden" seems to be a travel ad from just before or after the Great War. Hohlwein was born in Wiesbaden, which might have provided added incentive to do a really nice job. Speaking of the Great War, this is an advertisement from early in the conflict (to judge by the helmet) for some kind of "strength and energy" confection. A portable typewriter advertisement, probably from the 1920s. Much of Hohlwein's work, including this, seems to have been done using watercolor washes. Note the skillful portrayal of facial and other planes. Advertising a line of mens' clothing. Another fashion poster, but probably late in his career if the dress is any clue.. The swastika tells us this was done during World War 2. I'm not sure why Hohlwein portrays what appears to be a bare-chested man wearing a stahlhelm (steel helmet) and holding onto a pole of some sort. The caption translates literally as "air protection" or "air security" which might refer to an air warden or air defense -- though wehr might be a better word than schutz for the latter meaning. This is a detail from a poster advertising a brand of cigarettes. I think this is an extremely skillful piece of work. My only quibble is the low spot on the hair above the forehead that seems to be too low to accommodate the likely shape of the woman's head. On the other hand, it's likely Hohlwein worked from a photo to get the facial shading, so who knows? Oh do I wish I had Hohlwein's drawing and watercolor skills!! Later, Donald... posted by Donald at August 26, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Monday, August 25, 2008


Manny Farber, RIP
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- I was very sorry to learn that the painter and film critic Manny Farber has died. He was 91. I loved his art (a few examples are here) and his criticism. The Wife and I spent a little time hanging out with Manny and his wife, the artist Patricia Patterson (they often wrote together), and I can report that I found him a lovable guy: spikey, difficult, and maybe even a little paranoid, but brainy, funny, and soulful too. There can't be many critics who made as big an impact on a medium with a single volume of writing as Manny did on movies with his legendary "Negative Space." But, as far as I could tell, his heart was really in painting. Half of him may have been a wisecracking, off-center, neurotic intellectual -- but his bigger half was a color-drunk west coast sensualist. Some highlights from the press and the blogosphere: David Chute offers some personal reflections, a lot of quotes, and a sensible evaluation. A 2006 Duncan Shepard memoir of his friendship with Manny and Patricia is also a fine snapshot of an amazing era in American art. Michael Sragow recalls his own friendship with Manny. Carrie Rickey recalls Manny's influence, as well as his impact as a teacher. Robert Pincus offers an appreciation of Manny's art and supplies a good short biography of him too. Green Cine Daily rounds up many more links. In sadness, Michael... posted by Michael at August 25, 2008 | perma-link | (4) comments

Thursday, August 21, 2008


The Alexander Effect
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- James Kunstler confesses that it didn't all come together for him until he read Christopher Alexander and Andres Duany. I've run into professional architects who have told me similar things -- that they were out there, practicing architecture for a living, yet they didn't really "get it" until they stumbled across Alexander's great "A Pattern Language" and / or his equally-great "The Timeless Way of Building." "Suburban Nation" -- by Andres Duany, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, and Jeff Speck -- is pretty damn mind-opening too. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at August 21, 2008 | perma-link | (13) comments

Tuesday, August 19, 2008


Homage to a Catalan
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- If I were ordered to produce a league table for nations with respect to Western painting as reported in standard art history narratives, the Big Three would be Italy, Holland/Flanders and France. At or near the top of the following rank would be Spain, largely thanks to Velásquez, El Greco and Goya in pre-Modern days. In more recent times, regardless of what one thinks of their work or personalities, it's impossible to deny that two of the most famous 20th century painters were Spanish: Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dalí. Dalí was Catalan, Picasso spent his mid-teen years in Barcelona, Joan Miró was from Barcelona, and Hermen Anglada (who I wrote about here) also was from Barcelona. Catalonia, in Spain's northeast, has been uncomfortably Spanish. Catalans have their own dialect, which causes friction with the rest of the country. The region's proximity to France helps make it more "European" than distant parts of the country. These matters and others are treated in the book Barcelona 1900 which deals with the tug of mainstream European avant-garde art and architecture on Barcelona's artistic community. An artist featured in that book is Ramon Casas i Carbó. I wasn't aware of him, but liked his work and thought I'd show you some examples. For biographical information, click on the link above. Gallery Après le Bal - 1895 Before Bathing - c.1895 Madeleine - n.d. From the name, it was probably done in Paris. Mujer Conduciendo - early 1900s This "woman driver" looks like it might be intended for a poster. Julia Peraire portrait - c.1907 Julia was his model, later mistress, and eventual wife. Julia sketch - early 1900s In 1906 he met Julia Peraire who was born around 1888. I wonder a little if this is the same Julia because the woman looks older than 18 and the style of clothing she is wearing was on the way out in 1906. Portrait sketch of Pablo Picasso I'm tossing this in just to show that Casas could depict males. Actually, he did a lot of drawings and paintings of men, but I like looking at his women better. Sketch of woman Lautrec-like, but not so caricatured. Sifilis poster Casas did a good deal of poster art. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at August 19, 2008 | perma-link | (10) comments

Sunday, August 17, 2008


Less-Forgotten Painters
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Regular readers know that from time to time I write postings about painters who can be unknown to people who took Modernist-centered art history classes in college (myself especially included). My impression is that many of these neglected painters are beginning to be pinged by cultural gatekeeper sonar. Impressions are one thing and numbers are another, usually better, means of trend-tracking. And I have some numbers. Not great numbers, but better than nothing. What I did was grab a couple of "art and artists" "dictionaries" (I'm cribbing from two nearly identical titles) and compared the artists they covered with those I wrote about. The first book is the Penguin Dictionary of Art and Artists, 7th Edition. It was first published in 1959 and the 7th Edition came out in England in 1997. Only Giovanni Boldini and Jules Bastien-Le Page have their own entries. The other book is the Oxford Concise Dictionary of Art & Artists, 3rd Edition. The first edition appeared in 1990 and the latest in 2003. Artists I wrote about that were mentioned are Cecilia Beaux, Boldini, Albert Edelfelt, Axel Gallèn, Philip de Laszlo, Helene Schjerfbeck, Valentin Serov, Joaquin Sorolla and Mikhail Vrubel. The Oxford book has about 650 pages and the Penguin only 580, but that difference is too small to account for the disparity in citations. The Penguin edition is only six years older than the Oxford one, but the first editions are separated by 31 years, which might (or might not) be a factor with greater impact than the tastes of the compilers. A better test would be to compare various editions of the books to see how many of my "peripheral" artists were added over time. Unfortunately, I don't have earlier editions handy. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at August 17, 2008 | perma-link | (2) comments

Friday, August 15, 2008


'Burb Thoughts, Info, Questions
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- I dropped this comment on a recent posting about Bill Kauffman, Fred Reed, and James Kunstler. Since the commentsthread was dying out, and since I'm curious about how people will respond to some of my points, I'm reprinting it here. It's good to be blog-host. Was somebody arguing that all malls are bad? Let alone that Fred Reed, James Kunstler and Bill Kauffman are philosophers? I missed those parts of the posting. One fact that a surprising number of you bright people seem unaware of is that post-WWII US suburbia is anything but a spontaneous creation of the free market. There were suburbs before WWII, god knows. And the movement of some people from the city to the edges outside the city is apparently a constant in history. But post-WWII US suburbia -- collector roads, cul de sacs, strict zoning separating retail, industry, and residential, and zero access to public transportation -- is something quite distinct, and quite a weird, never-before- seen-on-the-face- of-the-planet type creature. Post-WWII suburbia is at least partly (if not largely) a function of a number of factors: government guarantees for home-mortgage loans; government sponsorship of freeway building (often said to be the largest civil engineering project in all history); a government-sponsored attack on city downtowns in the form of "urban renewal," which destroyed thousands of neighborhoods and hundreds of thousands of residences, and which forcibly displaced millions of citizens from their homes; and a handy-dandy tacit agreement between government and industry to support and encourage car culture. Notice how many times the word "government" appears in the above paragraph. OK, few people were forcibly moved to the new 'burbs (though some millions were indeed forcibly removed from their traditional city homes). But 1) that's a lot of carrots and sticks the country's elites were applying to its populace, and 2) that's a lot of top-down social engineering. Viewing post-WWII American suburbia as "normal," let alone as something that developed spontaneously out of people's freely expressed preferences, is like ... oh, I don't know, arguing that Cheetos grow on trees. They may be your personal favorite treat-- but your fondness for Cheetos is not a trustworthy guarantee that Cheetos grow on trees. In fact, they're the product of a lot of food engineering. Which of course is OK. But let's at least recognize that there are a few differences between an apple and a Cheeto. Now, would many people have moved to whatever kinds of 'burbs would have developed had the government not interfered, and if we'd all been left to our own devices? Could well be. Hard to know. A couple of questions for you market types? (I'm one myself, with some reservations.) 1) You're moving to a new city area. You're going to have to choose a place to live. We could think of you as a "housing consumer" shopping for a "housing product" in something called the "housing market." In and around many American cities the housing products... posted by Michael at August 15, 2008 | perma-link | (46) comments

Thursday, August 14, 2008


Fred and Bill
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Two super-eloquent writers check in with some thoughts about place. Fred Reed riffs on a theme familiar to those who have read James Kunstler's rants about cities, towns, and sprawl. (Kunstler blogs here. Here's an especially lively recent posting. Bookwise, start with this eye-opener.) Great passage: I am not religious, at least in the sense of believing that I have the answers, but I am religious in the sense of knowing the questions. I know that there are things we can’t know, things even more important than making partner before the age of thirty. Doubtless most of us know this. Yet the tenor of life is not easily escaped. We try. People rush to Europe in search of the old, the quiet, and the pretty. Peddlers of real estate understand the urge, and hawk tranquil rural life while building the malls that will make it impossible. And so hurry comes to Arcadia. People then think of escape to the next small town. We spend a remarkable amount of time fleeing ourselves. Maybe instead we should build a place we like. Bill Kauffman writes to the local paper about the damage a mall did to his beloved hometown of Batavia, NY. (CORRECTION: The Batavian isn't the "local paper." It's an online local-news website for Batavia.) Dandy passage: The mall ought to have been dispatched long ago to that circle of hell reserved for brutalist architecture. For 30-plus years it has been a monument to misplaced faith in big government and capital-p Progress. Urban renewal was a catastrophe for many American cities, Batavia not least among them. The demolition of old Batavia was a crime against our ancestors, ourselves, and our posterity. Kauffman link thanks to Dave Lull. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at August 14, 2008 | perma-link | (23) comments

Sunday, August 10, 2008


Architecture and Urbanism Linkage
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- * Architects go anti-modernism. * Should the federal government really be moving inner city residents to the suburbs? * How walkable is your neighborhood? My own scored 100 out of a possible 100. Have I mentioned that I haven't owned a car in over 30 years? * John Massengale isn't crazy about Beijing's Olympic architecture. A key passage: For every great monument like Bilbao, [contempo starchitecture] produces a thousand clunkers like Blue and San Francisco's Contemporary Jewish Museum. And 100,000 anti-urban clunkers in Las Vegas, Houston, and American sprawl in general. * MBlowhard Rewind: I wrote about the failures of architectural modernism. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at August 10, 2008 | perma-link | (9) comments

Wednesday, August 6, 2008


Read and Discuss
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- In today's Leisure & Arts section of the Wall Street Journal, David Littlejohn registers his unhappiness with glass sculptor Dale Chihuly and the fact that the de Young Museum of San Francisco dared to install a major show of his work. I'm not sure how long the Journal keeps links live, so if you're interested in reading the entire article, click here soon. I happen to be something of a Littlejohn-skeptic. One reason is that he likes Rem Koolhaas' new Seattle Public Library main branch building and I hate the thing. (Yes, sensitive readers, I know that "Hate is Not a Family Value" but, alas, I sometimes allow my human weaknesses to come to the fore.) I also must report the fact that Chihuly and I overlapped briefly at the University of Washington's School of Art. But we didn't know of one another. That said, my assessment of Chihuly's work is a non-assessment -- I neither like it nor dislike it. Perhaps that's because, aside from rare instances, I'm indifferent to sculpture in a positive sense. But I can easily be negative about the silly stuff that passes as sculpture these days. Chihuly's works normally don't strike me as being silly, so I simply don't really react to them. ("Oh. That's probably a Chihuly, huh? Okay.") But the subject of this posting is not Dale Chihuly. It has to do with this paragraph from Littlejohn: The word most commonly used by Chihuly-fanciers to describe the works is "beautiful," a concept of little value in defining serious art after the Impressionists. Although some Chihuly objects appear snakelike or surreal, there is never anything troubling or challenging about them. It all looks strangely safe and escapist, even Disney-like, for art of our time. The writhing shapes and bright kaleidoscope of colors signify nothing but the undeniable skill of their crafters and the strange tastes of Mr. Chihuly. More specifically, I'm focusing on this sentence segment: "...'beautiful,' a concept of little value in defining serious art after the Impressionists." So he's saying that after 1885 or thereabouts, "serious" art has little or nothing to do with beauty and beauty has little or nothing to do with "serious" art? Discuss, if this interests you. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at August 6, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Sunday, August 3, 2008


Hermen Anglada-Camarasa
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- [Applies lipstick to pig ...] I suppose a good result of having had a standard Paris-centric art history course in college is that I can experience the surprise and enjoyment of discovering interesting painters who weren't mentioned in class. One such artist I recently stumbled across is Hermen Anglada-Camarasa (1871-1959). The most comprehensive biographical information I could find during a brief Web search is here -- a Spanish-language Wikipedia page. Spanish isn't one of my languages, so I hope the following career snippet isn't too far off the mark. Anglada was born in Barcelona, the part of Spain with closest ties to France. He studied painting in Spain and then spent some time in Paris. In 1913 he moved to the Balearic Islands and seems to have spent the rest of his career there. The important thing is his art, and here are some examples. Gallery Le Paon Blanc - 1904 Sonia - n.d. Granadina - n.d. Des nudo bajo a parra - 1909 Sibila - 1913 Pino de Formentor - n.d. Acantilado en Formentor - 1936 My first reaction is to call him a less-stylized version of Gustav Klimt. The paintings of the women don't suggest much in the way of psychological depth, something critics tend to consider important. Even so, I find Anglada's paintings fun to look at and wouldn't object if one magically appeared on a wall in our house. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at August 3, 2008 | perma-link | (18) comments

Tuesday, July 29, 2008


A Dubious Yet Perhaps Provocative Comparison
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- As a cultureguy, I haven't been able to help being struck by something amidst all my low-carb readin'-and-research: the way the officially-endorsed low-fat gospel resembles the generally accepted view of the arts. It may work for a few, and it may have its theoretical appeal. But for the rest of us -- and on a day-to-day basis -- it may well be counterproductive, unhealthy, and perhaps even destructive. Interesting to learn that -- much like the conventional view of culture -- the low-fat gospel had its origins in the 1960s and 1970s. The idiotic Food Pyramid? That's something we owe to counterculture hero Sen. George McGovern. What to make of this? Semi-related: I made fun of what I called "the Arts Litany" back here; back here, I explained that our current conception of "literary fiction" is an artifact of the 1960s and 1970s. Here's one of my many bitch-fests about the New York Times Book Review and its bizarrely blinkered yet supposedly good-for-us vision of fiction. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at July 29, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Thursday, July 24, 2008


Foujita, the Serious Show-off
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Paris in the 1920s was crammed with artists. A few, such as Picasso, Matisse, Brancusi and Léger are still famous or at least well-known to art fans. Many never got much notoriety and are deeply buried in the footnotes of art history. Then there was a middle group whose members were fairly well known at the time but whose reputations since have fluctuated at best or, more often, slowly faded. How many of you have heard of Kees van Dongen (from the Netherlands), Moïse Kisling (Poland), Jules Pascin (Bulgaria) and a Japanese import who was usually called by his family name, Foujita (French spelling -- the English version is Fujita). All four expatriates were party animals. I first encountered them in this book, a photo-filled tour of the Paris art world of the first 30 years of the last century. The book uses famed model, singer (sort of), writer (an autobiography), painter (amateur) and art world personality (huge!!) Kiki (née Alice Prin) as its title's centerpiece even though she didn't arrive on the scene until the early 1920s and became artist-photographer Man Ray's muse and mistress. Furthermore, pages and pictures devoted to Kiki are a small share of the total. That's okay, because the rest of the cast is an amusing and often, eventually, tragic lot that I, at least, find fascinating. As for Foujita, we find him at Kiki's book-signing party (p. 189), And there's a spread (pp. 180-81) devoted to him. Photos include three of him and third wife "Youki" (née Lucie Badoud, who later married poet Robert Desnos), one a portrait, another a publicity shot in his studio and one of them on the beach at Deauville. Another Deauville photo has Foujita and famed musical hall star Mistinguette hugging. Yet another shows him with singer Suzy Solidor on a beach wearing beach costumes he designed and made. Finally, there's a photo of Foujita riding a mini-bicycle along a boardwalk. Page 175 shows him playing drum for a miniature-circus performance by Alexander Calder (of later mobile fame) in his (Foujita's) studio. There's another spread (pp. 150-51) with a photo of the building where his fancy studio was located, and another of Youki, the expensive Ballot automobile Foujita bought her with their Basque chauffeur. Other pictures are of Foutjna vacationing in the Pyrenees and of painting Anna de Noailles. Pages 130-31 have party group-photos that include Foujita. A third spread (pp. 100-101) deals with early days of the Foujita-Youki relationship. There's more, but you surely get the idea that Foujita was a publicity hound as well as a successful society painter during the Twenties. So I found it interesting to read this fairly recent biography of the man by Phyllis Birnbaum, who knows Japanese and has spent plenty of time in Japan. I haven't read other books about Foujita to give me a wider perspective, but Birnbaum's biography strikes me as being fair in that she presents opposing takes on him by Japanese... posted by Donald at July 24, 2008 | perma-link | (3) comments

Sunday, July 20, 2008


More on Parking
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Does "free" parking come at too high a price? UCLA prof Donald Shoup thinks that we have our priorities -- and our pricing schemes -- all wrong. "I don't see why people should have to pay market rents to live in a neighborhood, but the cars should live rent free," he says. Watch an interview with Shoup here. Listen to one here. Here's Shoup's book about parking. I wrote about how well-done parking arrangements can help bring a downtown back to life back here. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at July 20, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Saturday, July 19, 2008


Mystery Painting Identified
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- A few days ago I wrote a posting lamenting that I'd noticed an interesting print that I couldn't identify and pleaded for help from our art-savvy readership. Lo and behold, reader S. D'Arbanville came through (see the posting's comments) ... many thanks! The painting is Fin de Souper by Jules-Alexandre Grün, (1868-1934?) dated 1913. (In my posting I suggested that it was done between 1912 and 1920, so I got that bit right. On the other hand, I privately guessed that it might be by an English artist, missing the target on that point.) For information on Grün, I strongly suggest you click here; the link contains a lot of information about this comparatively unknown artist. It also claims to identify his self portrait in the painting as well as images of his wife and fellow poster-artist Jules Chéret. Here are examples of Grün's work: Gallery Fin de Souper in the light intensity of the reproduction I saw. Here is a lighter version. I prefer the dark one. Vendredi su Salon des Artistes Français - 1911 A Group of Artists - 1929 Poster, 1903. Poster, no date, but probably 1900-07. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at July 19, 2008 | perma-link | (4) comments

Monday, July 14, 2008


Modern Classicist
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Meet Scottish classical sculptor Alexander Stoddart. Not having seen any of his work in the flesh, I don't really know how I feel about it. I do know, though, that I'm very glad that he's out there doing his impressive best to create persuasive classical sculpture in the modern world. A sentence from the article struck me especially hard. When Stoddart was an art student in the '70s, practising his representational art, "graffiti in the lavatories labelled him as a fascist because he refused to veer from the figurative path." Ah, yes, those liberal and open-minded art students. Here's Alexander Stoddart's website. Completely unrelated: Diana Rigg, who turns 70 this month, still smokes, drinks, and drives a sports car. Diana's daughter Rachael Stirling is also an actress, and looks a bit like her mum. Here's a visit with Rachael. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at July 14, 2008 | perma-link | (7) comments

Sunday, July 13, 2008


Mystery Painting
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- We were visiting Spokane and northern Idaho last week, lodging at the Holiday Inn Express in Spokane Valley. In the lobby were a number of framed prints, including the one below. Sorry about the poor quality, but the lighting was bad when I snapped it and I tried to digitally enhance the image as best I could. Mystery painting: Title and artist, please. The scene is of a bunch of rich old gents and sweet young things around a brightly lit table. All are well dressed and seem to be having a swell time chatting things up. From the women's fashions and hairdos, I'd peg the date sometime between 1912 and 1920. Few critics would consider it a great work of art. However, I found it quite interesting to look at because it attracts and holds one's attention (if one is interested in people, at any rate). It also interested me because it seems skillfully done. For instance, note that the girl on the left is illuminated by two light sources: the yellow table lighting and a daylight source to the left of the scene. The figures are believably posed and nicely drawn. Nothing profound here. No irony or social commentary other than perhaps the age contrast between the sexes and whatever that might suggest. One might consider it a Great War era version of a Watteau. My biggest problems with it are that I have no idea what the title is and I don't know the name of the painter. Frustrating, because I'm really curious. Do any of you recognize it? Later, Donald... posted by Donald at July 13, 2008 | perma-link | (5) comments

Sunday, July 6, 2008


Shoot First, Paint Later
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I recently bought two books that happened to have a common sub-topic. They are: Richard Estes Jack Vettriano: Studio Life That topic is use of reference photography by painters. This is something purists have been declaring for years to be Avoided At All Cost, lest the artist be shunned (or some other dire fate). What you're supposed to do is hire models if you're painting people or gather up a bunch of equipment and supplies and head to the countryside and do the plein-air thing. Painters of a practical bent shrugged off the guilt-trip long ago. Edgar Degas is known to have been a photography fan. Alphonse Mucha routinely took reference photos of models. There are books about him that include his reference shots along with the finished art. This book is a collection of his photos. Illustrators tended to use reference photography extensively. This is partly to save expenses on model posing time -- an hour or so before the camera is a lot less costly than a day in front of an easel. Norman Rockwell, for example, used live models early in his career but later usually worked from photos. John La Gatta, on the other hand, preferred a model before his easel. The Richard Estes book cited above includes a partial transcription of a 1977 interview in which he holds forth on art (he doesn't much like Modernism) and the use of photography. (Note: The book is bi-lingual Spanish and English, so isn't as meaty at its 190-ish page count might imply.) Estes really has no choice but to work form photos because his depictions are mostly of transient conditions. He shoots lots and lots of photos and will return to the scene later to get more pictures if the first shoot was inadequate. He seldom or never works from a single reference photo, instead combining parts from several. One reason for this is photographic exposure: Most photos are exposed for a sunlit subject or a shady subject, and a scene combining both adequately on one image is hard to get. But his paintings usually demand both convincing lighted and shady areas, so different reference photos are needed. Vettriano is self-taught, initially working from stock photos in how-to-paint books or pictures from magazines and other convenient sources. He continues to rely exclusively on reference photos, most of which he takes himself. Although he can easily afford model fees, he doesn't like to paint from life because it makes him nervous, he claims. A shy man, he gladly switched from film to digital imaging because he felt embarrassed dropping off film rolls filled with images partly undressed women at the local Boots store (Boots is England's large drugstore chain). He saves some money by using himself as the model for male figures in his paintings. As for female models, he says he prefers older (say, mid-30s) women to younger ones because they show more character. He also admits to the occasional affair... posted by Donald at July 6, 2008 | perma-link | (3) comments

Saturday, June 28, 2008


An Astonishing Art Rediscovery
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Revolution continues to shake the art world. Well into the process of being overturned are the reputations of hegemonist white males whose corporeal forms long since flatlined to room temperature (or to express the thought more crudely, died). May maggots feast on their canvasses as well as their carcasses! We have come far, my friends. The atrophying of Abstract Expressionist painting (mere wall-decorations lacking any semblance to irony, intellectual content or political meaning) opened doors to bold new artistic concepts. First Pop Art. Then Op Art. Minimalism. Earth. Performance. Conceptual. Neo-Dada. Installation. The parade of our triumphs seems endless. Best of all, I now have the extreme pleasure of announcing the latest breakthrough in the war to stamp out that vile oppression known as Western Culture. Behold: Anthropomorphic Art!! His Station and Four Aces - C.M. Coolidge, 1903 This discovery -- in fact, a shatteringly important re-discovery -- is the body of work by the too-long obscure artist Cassius Marcellus Coolidge who we have every hope was no relation of the foul, heartless Calvin of the same last name. His genre has been known as Dogs Playing Poker, but an effort is hereby underway to devise and popularize a more politically relevant label for this landmark series of paintings. The second link indicates that a pair of Coolidge's series were auctioned together for a sum greater than half a million dollars. Clearly, even the market (I spit on its name) has begun to recognize Anthropomorphic Art. Allow me to analyze the painting so that you may better understand how it will reshape the world of art. The use of anthropomorphic dogs is appropriate since the shared DNA of canines and humans is a very high percentage of each species' total. Indeed, this is the prime thrust of Anthropomorphic Art: driving home to viewers that human hubris is the acting-out of a profoundly unjustifiable genetic delusion. Its salient defect is the fact that all the subjects depicted are wearing male clothing. Grudging allowance should be made in consideration of the date of its completion; presumably, future Anthropomorphic Art will redress this grave imbalance. On the other hand, the possibility that one of the subjects is in fact transgendered cannot be entirely ruled out -- consider the standing figure grasping the umbrella, for example. Another defect is that three subjects are shown with pipes in their mouths. Since no actual smoke is seen, they clearly are not smoking. Nevertheless, the presence of the pipes is disturbing in a non-ironic way. Although the dress of the card players appears bourgeois, the game itself is proletarian (note especially that the playing-table is colored red). This presents us an ironic commentary on the imagery of self-presentation in a society shot through with falsehoods within falsehoods. Of special note is the authority-figure of the train conductor. His blue costume is in striking contrast to the ochres and browns of the others. His hat is clearly a képi of a design... posted by Donald at June 28, 2008 | perma-link | (9) comments

Monday, June 23, 2008


A Perl of a Critique
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Arts & Letters Daily directed me to this article by Jed Perl, art critic of The New Republic, in which he lashes out at some new museums and big-name Postmodern artists. Among many other things, he mentions that: I wish more museum directors and trustees understood how hungry--and how disgruntled--museumgoers in America really are. Again and again, people are pointed in precisely the wrong direction. It is depressing to think how many people have visited LACMA in recent months to see BCAM without sparing a minute for the Ahmanson Building. They literally do not know what they are missing. From Los Angeles I went up to San Francisco, and it is more or less the same story. Everybody rushes to the Museum of Modern Art and the De Young, two overblown buildings with sporadically important collections, while the most beautiful museum in the city--the Legion of Honor, in which masterpieces by Watteau, Le Nain, and Seurat have been given a thrillingly elegant installation- -is hardly ever mentioned. It's my fault that I don't know if the assault is typical of Perl's criticism. I recently read his book New Art City, a sympathetic, if heavily padded, account of the New York Abstract Expressionist movement. But that was it, until now. I simply assumed that he was in the tank for Modernism in all its forms. Clearly I need to pay him more serious attention, because his anti-establishment attack takes a certain amount of guts for a professional critic. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 23, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Sunday, June 22, 2008


Impressionism's Inspirations
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- It started in Denver, went to Atlanta and is now completing its run in Seattle. It's the exhibit titled "Inspiring Impressionism: The Impressionists and the Art of the Past." The Seattle Art Museum page describing it is here. From what I read, Impressionism is a hot box office item for art museums. So the trick is to devise new ways of packaging the paintings. The current show uses what I consider an under-recognized fact as its hook: Impressionism wasn't created out of thin air. That's the good bit. The not-so-good bit is that the effort was feeble. That said, it's only fair to recognize that assembling an exhibition from many different collections is not easy. I've never tried it, but I can easily image that it's a murderous process where frustration piles upon frustration. An example is the following juxtaposition SAM used to publicize the show. Lady in Fur Wrap - El Greco - 1577-80 Portrait of Isabelle Lemonnier - Éduard Manet - c.1879 Ann Dumas, of the Royal Academy of Arts, London and co-curator of the exhibit, mentioned in a talk to museum members that she really wanted to pair the Greco with a copy made by one of the Impressionists. The copy would not be lent, so she had to make do with a Manet painting that at least had a woman wearing a fur as its subject. The most unusual part of the show contained a number of drawn and painted copies of art in the Louvre by several Impressionists when they were young and learning their craft. An exception was a semi-copy by Berthe Morisot done when she was a mature artist. The point the curators were trying to make was that most Impressionists respected earlier art and didn't reject it utterly. The exhibit's force dwindled rapidly in other galleries where thematic juxtapositions with (mostly) 17th and 18th century paintings were placed. The themes included landscapes, nudes and children -- common grist for painters before and since the Impressionists. In other words, no big deal. To me the key painting of the show was this: A Young Woman Reading - Jean-Honoré Fragonard - 1776 Its significance was was largely ignored in the little plaque next to it, though it might have been featured in the recording doohickey some viewers opt to cart around. This Fragonard has to be seen in person. The various reproductions of it in the museum store (posters, postcards, the exhibit catalog, etc.) as well as the one shown above don't capture the color of the original. The red-orange areas on the subject's face are much stronger than what you see here. The cool areas of the face are a strong greenish-blue. The brushwork is bold. Even though one might call it proto-Fauve given its coloration, it's probably closer to Impressionism. Lacking are broken color and short brush strokes that Monet and Pissaro might have used. Hell -- it's practically an Impressionist work done a century early.... posted by Donald at June 22, 2008 | perma-link | (12) comments

Friday, June 20, 2008


Politically Incorrect Ornamentation?
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- The message "function good, ornament bad" is the best distillation I can come up with from my experience in architecture classes I took in the late 1950s. Time has passed, obviously, and Postmodernism marked the entry of the nose of the ornamentation camel into the tent of pure, Modernist architecture. Needless to say, architects trained circa when I was in school were unhappy with that development and controversy has continued till this day. I was glancing at the Harvard Design Magazine last week at the local Barned & Noble and stumbled on this article by Robert Levit titled "Contemporary Ornament: The Return of the Symbolic Repressed" that deals with this book: "The Function of Ornament" by Farshid Moussavi and Michael Kubo. I later located a copy of the book and skimmed it, but didn't buy it because, since I retired, my book-buying budget has taken a serious hit. I mention this because it means that I can't give an evaluation of Levin's take on the book. But that doesn't really matter. Whether the thoughts are from Levin or Moussavi or Kubo, a line of reasoning interested me. Here are some carefully cherry-picked quotes from Levin: If one may take The Function of Ornament as an indicator of an important vein of sentiment in the architectural community, it names ornament, welcomes it back, as it were, but only on condition: ornament must function. Ornament may be back, but only by putting behind what gave it its past notoriety: its position outside of instrumental need, which is to say, its openly symbolic nature. ... As Moussavi and Kubo make evident in their title, they will resurrect ornament on a functional foundation. The control of light and the assembly of walls, structural skeletons, light-diffusing walls and ceilings, are instrumental bases for exercises in pattern-making. Now rooted in function, questions of a purely symbolic or formal motivation can be put aside. With this move, a foundational polarity in Modernist architecture seems to dissolve—its distinction between substantive categories of material, structure, and space on the one hand, and ornament on the other. Moussavi expresses concern about the communicative goals of Postmodernist architecture with its applied ornament. Citing the pluralist nature of contemporary society, she doubts that a coherent system of signs capable of communicating with architecture’s varied publics can be made. ... Ornament does not pose a problem for our moment because it is superficial, added to the surface of buildings (as if after more important matters). It is a problem because, more explicitly than questions of type, structure, building arrangement, room distribution, and volume (all more readily seen as producing our sheltering environments), ornament remains more stubbornly a symbolic substance. ... So what is wrong with symbolic form? In Moussavi’s view, it cannot speak to today’s plural publics for whom the symbolic can only be opaque. ... Symbolic form requires levels of cultural familiarity (an erudition of sorts). Its limited legibility makes it undemocratic. (This is implicit in... posted by Donald at June 20, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Creativity Goes Amok Once Again
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Stuart Buck gives a convincing thumb's down to a proposed new piece of "blobitecture" in Prague. Though it doesn't qualify as blobitecture, Will Alsop's new arts center for West Bromwich is equally preening and silly. Has anyone else noticed that public funding is involved in both these projects? A century ago the buildings that governments erected were often sturdy beauties. Today they're often offenses. What changed? An a propos quote comes from the great Leon Krier: "As is the case with all good things in life -- love, good manners, language, cooking -- personal creativity is required only rarely." Best, Michael UDPATE: Rick Darby has a fun, smart and eloquent go at a current Chicago project. Is "monstrosity" too strong a description for it? How about "kinky dildo"?... posted by Michael at June 20, 2008 | perma-link | (10) comments

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


Art in America
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- I struggled to come up with a apt, succinct title to this note, but had to leave to catch the preview showing of an exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum. So I simply used Art in America, the name of an art magazine where "Art & Politics" is the theme of its current issue. Its puny web site includes the following contents list for the issue. In Times of Trouble – some recent films and videos provide a wide-angled look at a world of violence. Collateral Damage – in a gripping new monument, Siah Armajani traces parallels between the attacks on Fallujah and on Guernica. Global Warnings – the icecaps are melting, storms are increasing, species are dwindling. Several exhibitions ask, how can art help? Talking Politics 2008 – six artists whose work courts controversy exchange ideas about the common ground between politics and art. Rules of Engagement – a number of artists reexamine the evidence on documentary photography’s truth value. Written in Stone – using salvaged blocks, Michal Rovner assembled an imposing testament to the possibility of cooperation in the Mideast. Handforth’s Fallen Angels – Milton’s Paradise Lost, along with recent malfeasance and loss, frames Mark Handforth’s new work. Sticking It – a 40-year survey of Judith Bernstein’s drawings showcased her signature image: a phallus that’s also a very big screw. Front Page – the latest news and notes from around the art world. Based on this evidence, I suspect a fall issue will be devoted to Barak Obama campaign posters designed by artists ranging from students to jet-setters. Art in America claims to be "The World's Premier Art Magazine" (see link). Wait a minute. Art in America as The World's Premier Art Magazine? Filthy imperialists. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at June 18, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Monday, June 9, 2008


Heterodox Thinking on Architecture
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Is Leon Krier as great an architecture-and-urbanism thinker as Jane Jacobs was? Since I suspect that he may be, it's nice to see that Roger Scruton does too. If you've ever rolled your eyes in exasperation when reading a conventional piece of architecture history or criticism, Scruton's essay should come as a relief and a blessing. It's a great introduction to a way of seeing and experiencing architecture-and-urbanism that's helpful, down-to-earth, poetic, and moving. Here's a review of Krier's best-known book. Here's a long q&a with Roger Scruton. I wrote an intro to Jane Jacobs back here. In related news: Lakis Polycarpou conducts a discussion with James Kunstler and Nikos Salingaros: Part One, Part Two. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at June 9, 2008 | perma-link | (3) comments

Saturday, May 31, 2008


A Gehry Monument to Himself for NYC
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Gil Roth at Virtual Memories called my attention to this article in today's New York Times about a Frank Gehry skyscraper under construction in Lower Manhattan. It includes a school on the first few floors. And is located in the Brooklyn Bridge approaches / City Hall area, according to the article by Times architectural writer Nicolai Ouroussoff. Even better, it will be a modest 76 stories tall and have a wavy, Expressionist exterior. But best of all, Just as important, the design suggests that the city is slowly if hesitantly recovering from the trauma of 9/11. Only a few years ago, as plans were readied for a bunkerlike Freedom Tower downtown, it seemed as if the Manhattan skyline would be marred by jingoism and fear. ... Mr. Gehry’s tower, by contrast, harks back to the euphoric aspirations of an earlier age without succumbing to nostalgia ... it signals that the city is finally emerging from a long period of creative exhaustion. ... A lesser architect might have spoiled one of the most fabled views in the Manhattan skyline. Instead Mr. Gehry has designed a landmark that will hold its own against the greatest skyscrapers of New York. It may even surpass them. Once again "creativity" trumps quality. Well, hmm. In fairness, I suppose we should wait until the thing is completed before we concur with Ouroussoff's implied contention that Gehry is The Second Coming of Raymond Hood. And as Michael Blowhard likes to remind us, we'll have the next 80 years or so to do that evaluation. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at May 31, 2008 | perma-link | (3) comments

Thursday, May 29, 2008


Sensationally Traditional
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Is the imbalance between Modernist and more traditional painting in the process of being redressed? I wish. Since any such redressment will probably be a long-term process, it's too soon to tell. Too soon for me, anyway. Nevertheless, I can grasp at straws as well as the next person. The most recent straw in the wind is Juliette Aristides' latest book Classical Painting Atelier. (She previously wrote a book about drawing that also can be found in bookstores or ordered via Amazon.) Aristides, according to the cover flap bio, trained on the East Coast and now is an instructor here in Seattle at the Gage Academy of Art. I am greatly embarrassed to admit that I had never heard of the Gage until I read that snippet. Seeking atonement as well as trying to satisfy curiosity, I did a little Mapquesting and hopped into my trusty Chrysler to find the joint. And voila! It is housed in a former girls school on the grounds of St. Mark's Episcopal cathedral on Capitol Hill. According to their Web page, evening drawing sessions are available; I'd be tempted to sign up, but I travel too much to get my money's worth. Back to the book. It contains much useful information and serious art students should read it because Aristides knows (and demonstrates by her own painting) what she's talking about. For me, the highlights were the illustrations. Besides the Usual Suspects such as Rembrandt, Hals, Velázquez and Vermeer, she includes fine paintings by more recent artists including Cecelia Beaux, William Merritt Chase, William Bouguereau and Albert Handerson Thayer. And, related to the matter of a potential return to traditional painting, Aristides included works by living artists, some of whom who are established such as Andrew Wyeth and Odd Nerdrum, and others who are early in their careers. Here are some examples I grabbed off the Internet. The ones farther down might be dicey if you are at work, so use caution. Of course you can justify viewing them because, after all, they are Art. Gallery Transparent and Solid by Gary Faigin, 2000 Let's start off with two still-life paintings. The objects and eye-level viewpoint are contemporary, but the handling is Academic. Interesting mix. Mertz No. 11 by John Morra, 2006 Okay, this one wasn't in the book. I couldn't find an image of Mertz No. 2 on the Web, so this will have to do. Similar to what Faigin was attempting. Corner Window 2 by Daniel Sprick, 2001 A still life with a whiff of landscape. Plus a dab of Surrealism; it looks like those tulips are suspended in thin air. Flora by Nelson Shanks, 1994 Apologies for the small size -- it rated a full page in the book. What fascinates me is the light source that shines upwards at about a 60 degree angle from the horizontal and its effects on the subject. Carolina by Jacob Collins, 2006 I think this is Collins' best painting... posted by Donald at May 29, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Sunday, May 25, 2008


Mickey D on Steroids
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Some readers in the gray-or-dyed-hair demographic might remember the early McDonald's stands. The ones with golden arches bracketing a service counter, kitchen and storage area; there was no indoor seating. Some new McDonald's buildings have retro'd (howzzat for verbing a noun, folks) the bracketing arch style. But what I've noticed here and there was nothing compared to the McDonald's near our hotel in Chicago, just north of the river. Behold: Gallery Here's the set-up. Large parking lot, drive-thru, large but otherwise pretty conventional first floor as hamburger stand. It's the upper floor where things get interesting. Not shown is the coffee house cum gelato bar service counter. This shot gives a general idea as to what's there otherwise. Next, some details. Here are some of the booths. The large windows and second-floor location and viewpoint are about all that's different from ordinary McDonald's. This is one of the lounge areas. Nice furniture. Even nicer furniture. Those Barcelona Chairs don't come cheap. So what are you waiting for? No more sneaking into McDonald's or making excuses to spouses, friends or co-workers. At last, a place where you can have a Big Mac and power meeting at the same time. If you happen to be in Chcago, that is. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at May 25, 2008 | perma-link | (9) comments

Thursday, May 22, 2008


Surrealistic Dreaming
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Throughout recorded history some people have considered dreams to be really important. They would be a source of messages from God or perhaps were a mechanism for foretelling the future. More recently, they have been considered a window to deep aspects of one's personality. When I was in grad school I once stopped by the medical school library for a reason I no longer remember. Wandering along shelves carrying recent editions of journals, I happened to pause and look at the table of contents of a psychoanalytic journal. One of the articles was about Umbrella Symbolism in dreams. I gave the piece a quick scan and noticed that this contribution to science was based on three cases! Which is one of many reasons why I never took Freud very seriously. My own dreams are usually pretty ordinary. I seldom even dream about things that are current in my waking hours -- even important or stressful things. If Freud had analyzed my dreams, Psychoanalysis might never have been born. But I'm an arts buff (it sez so on the panel to the left), so what about connections between dreams and painting, say? Hmm. [Scratches head] Why of course! Surrealism! Some Surrealists bought into Freudianism (or claimed to do so). They supposedly painted what they had dreamed. The best known Surrealist of this school was Salvador Dalí who depicted drooping watches, people with window-like holes cut through them, ants crawling over stuff -- all sorts of weird scenes that were supposedly dream-driven. Other Surrealists painted other strange scenes. I have never dreamed anything like Surrealist dream-scenes. Things in my dreams are realistic even if they are not representing objects in my waking world. For example, a couple of times a year I dream about being back at my frat house. I might be younger or my actual age, but not an undergraduate -- the details don't matter here and I can't recall them in any case. Sometimes Greek Row and the frat house are as they are in reality. Other times its architecture has been altered as the result of a renovation. Sometimes Greek Row has changed somewhat; buildings are different, locations of houses might have changed a little. But the architecture and other setting details are entirely plausible. Nothing is weird. Cynical me, I've never been convinced that dream-painting Surrealists painted actual dreams. I think they simply came up with stuff that made for good public relations to entice buyers. Or maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps I'm a dullard who's lacking in the imaginative dream department. Will anyone out there step forward in Comments and admit that they actually dream stuff like Surrealists painted? Comments by folks who only dream about ordinary things are also welcome. Later, Donald... posted by Donald at May 22, 2008 | perma-link | (8) comments

Sunday, May 18, 2008


Notre Dame Gothic
Donald Pittenger writes: Dear Blowhards -- Last fall I wrote about how the University of Washington dealt with the problem of Collegiate Gothic in the modernist era. My review was mixed. Yesterday I was in South Bend, Indiana and finally broke the inertia of driving south on the main drag to check out the Notre Dame University campus. It happened to be graduation day, but we were able to find parking and walked from the lot to the golden dome and back. Here are some of the buildings I saw: Gallery Yep, this seems to be the right place. Our Lady is to the left, and the dome to the right. Let's start at the dome and work back. This is the Main Building with the dome on top. It's the center of the campus and likely one of the first buildings built. Most colleges start small, with an Old Main or somesuch that initially housed everything. Here, the Main Building sets the campus tone in terms of brickwork (though it's slightly more yellow), if not in architecture. Some of the nearby buildings -- also a century or more old -- are Romanesque in flavor. Then the shift was made to a simplified Collegiate Gothic. I'll leave it to Notre Dame savvy readers to tell us when these were built. If I correlated correctly with my campus map, this is Alumni Hall. Note the color of the bricks and the green-gray slate roof: these are examples of the two main unifying elements. Not all is traditional. This is the Hesburgh Center for International Studies. It's Post-Modern in that it acknowledges its architectural environment. Could be better, could be worse than it is. The Center For Continuing Education is stark. So are many other buildings that are, unlike this one, away from the Notre Dame Avenue axis. Coloration ties it to the rest of campus, but it's out of place nevertheless, given its location. New construction just off the axis, and it looks like it will have a Gothic theme of sorts. Across Notre Dame Avenue from the Hesburgh is the Alumni Association Building which is simplified Collegiate Gothic. Behind it is the bookstore which contains the largest "logo" shop I've ever seen on a college campus. Apparently Notre Dame, besides having "subway alumni" also has "Boeing alumni." [Translation: In the glory days of Irish football, ND had lots of Catholic fans who never attended college. By "Boeing," I refer to the ease of transportation allowing alums and others to get to South Bend and scoop up sweatshirts, baseball caps, beer mugs, et cetera.] Finally, near the main entrance to campus is the DeBartolo Center for the Performing Arts, a massive building that does a nice job of maintaining the architectural theme despite its bulk. Notre Dame strikes me as being far more successful than the University of Washington in maintaining a unified campus "look." Perhaps this has to do with the fact that the Fighting Irish have a School of... posted by Donald at May 18, 2008 | perma-link | (3) comments

Thursday, May 15, 2008


Peak Oil, Simmons, Kunstler
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Those curious about the Peak Oil theory but perhaps a little tired of James Kunstler may enjoy this interview with investment banker, conservative dude, and Peak Oil believer Matthew Simmons. It would be hard to turn up a clearer, more concise presentation of the thesis than this one. If you haven't had your fill of Kunstler, here's an interview in which he brings together nearly all his themes. One especially nice passage: The ideas issuing from the highest circles of architectural education today are patent absurdities, such as the idea that novelty ought to trump the public interest, or the idea that ‘creativity’ (so-called) is a superior method than the emulation of forms that have already proven successful (meaning problems already solved). Personally, I view some of the leading architects of our time as being among the wickedest people in the world ... The record of their ideology in the cities and towns of America is there for anyone to see: abandonment, ruin, and the dishonour of the public realm. I know less than nothing about Peak Oil. But where Kunstler's evaluation of the high-end architecture establishment and its work goes, I'm with him all the way. Best, Michael UPDATE: Thanks to BIOH, who points out a blog that takes quite a different view of Peak Oil.... posted by Michael at May 15, 2008 | perma-link | (5) comments

Tuesday, May 13, 2008


Glass Staircases
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Thanks to visitor Bryan for pointing out this NYTimes article about the current fashion for glass staircases. Funny comment from Bryan: "Glass, glass, glass. You would think it's this mysterious brand-new material, architects love it so much." Please, can someone commission a nature-or-nurture study of modernistic architects? Is the tendency to worship transparency and geometry something that some people are born with? Or are they brainwashed into their fascination with it? Small point: Given that pre-modernist and non-modernistic architects aren't mesmerized by abstraction to anything like the extent that the modernistic crowd is, this can't have to do with architects and architecture per se. After all, some architects -- not the kind who get tons of coverage from the likes of the NYTimes, alas -- are actually concerned with such values as shelter, social life, solidity, and even coziness. Visit John Massengale and Katie Hutchison for glimpses of a world the NYTimes will tell you very little about. Gotta love this quote from Rick Mather, the architect who created the glass staircase featured in the Times' story: “I like the ambiguity of it, I like that it brings in light, and I like that it disappears,” Mr. Mather said. “I like to not show how it’s supported.” Yup, that's what we want our architects doing: not creating satisfying and solid spaces and structures, but dissolving our structures around us. At his website, Rick Mather shows off a lot of flat planes, geometry, glowiness, crisp edges, and glass. Mather shows off little but that, it seems to me ... But, heck, well, at least his clients know what they're in for. God, but it must be exciting for architects to imagine themselves to be not just humble service-people doing their modest best to contribute a little to our shared quality of life, but instead to picture themselves as gurus, philosophers, and experimental scientists. Let's rescue humanity from tradition, from brick, even from rooms (modernistic architects prefer "spaces" to "rooms") -- from any familiar sense of how we're being sheltered! Too bad about those people who are terrified by the experience of, say, glass staircases ... But (as always) sacrifices need to be made so that the "liberation" process can move forward. Bryan's note reminded me of some vidclips I'd collected of the glassy insides of one of NYCity's Apple Stores. So I threw them together and hit iMovie '08's "Upload to YouTube" button. Here's my latest production, already viewed by 12 discerning and fortunate viewers, I see: Not a complete surprise to learn that Mr. iPod is a transparency buff himself, is it? I wonder if someone might want to suggest to Steve Jobs that the values that make for a nice computer or music player might not be the ones that are appropriate for buildings. In any case: Some people sure have weird tastes in architectural thrills. Too bad so many of them are architects. Modernistic architects: Preening zombies we need to learn to... posted by Michael at May 13, 2008 | perma-link | (10) comments

Friday, May 9, 2008


Responding to Thursday
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- On an interesting thread over at GNXP, Thursday issued a challenge. I'd been goofing around, writing that "novels themselves were quite disreputable at the outset -- the reality TV and tabloid-TV of their day. It was only in the second half of the 19th century that some novelists started putting on airs." Here's Thursday: Bullshit. No less a "serious" personage than Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote a novel and a very good one too. Novelists like Richardson, Fielding, and Burney were considered serious writers right from the beginning. Haven't you read Boswell's life of Johnson. I have a hard time believing Jane Austen didn't take her meticulously planned and written books as high art. Tom Jones is planned to classical perfection. Critics like Hazlitt and Coleridge took the novelists like Richardson, Smollett, Sterne and Fielding seriously right from the start. Stop trying to rewrite literary history as if no-one had any clue what was high art and what wasn't. OK then: Time to get serious myself. Here's my response to Thursday: You're making a basic mistake. You're projecting current-day critical rankings back onto past eras. You're assuming that what we now consider great was self-evidently Great at the time. No. Look, what a work's reputation is today often has zip to do with how it was taken (and what it represented) when it was produced. What we now consider great was often taken for granted at the time, or looked-down-on. Defoe's novels are just one example. At the time they were published they weren't taken to be novels in our current sense. They were made-up fantasies that pretended to be works of reportage -- in other words, they were aesthetically and morally dubious productions akin to today's scandal sheets and reality TV, or maybe even to those books that turn up every few years about alien encounters in Australia. It took more than a century before many people started wondering if maybe "Robinson Crusoe" wasn't a pretty good novel. Works often become "literature" in hindsight, not at the time of their production. No matter how great we recognize "Tom Jones" to be today -- and I'm a big fan myself -- the early British novel was a scrappy and aesthetically scorned form, far more akin in its time to what journalism and TV are these days than to today's "literary fiction." The early English novel was a middle-class market phenomenon, not a serious or intellectual or literary one. We've learned to see structure, complexity, grandeur, and depth in these books only in retrospect. From Wikipedia's "literature" entry: "Early novels in Europe did not, at the time, count as significant literature, perhaps because 'mere' prose writing seemed easy and unimportant." From an online resource about Jane Austen: "In Jane Austen's era, novels were often depreciated as trash ... In Jane Austen's day, novels actually had something of the same reputation that mass-market romances do today." No matter what your opinion of Austen's books these days, and no... posted by Michael at May 9, 2008 | perma-link | (16) comments

Thursday, May 8, 2008


Julian's Place
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- PatrickH and Benjamin Hemric are raving about the new place that painter / filmmaker Julian Schnabel has created in New York City's West Village. Thanks to Benjamin for turning up this page of info and pix. I haven't visited yet, but from the photos Schnabel's place looks like overripe decadent boho bliss of a very high order. (FWIW, I don't care for Schnabel's paintings, which I find bombastic and silly. But I think he's a very talented filmmaker. Start with his biopic "Basquiat," which features a great performance by Jeffrey Wright, and which does a peerless job of conveying the intoxicating / nightmarish quality that life in the NYC visual-arts world can have.) One non-fan has this to say about Schnabel's new place, though: "He's obviously trying to pretend that this looks somehow Florentine or Venetian, when, really, it looks like a Malibu Barbie house that exploded." Best, Michael... posted by Michael at May 8, 2008 | perma-link | (6) comments

Wednesday, May 7, 2008


Steve on Art
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- Steve is asking all kinds of Sailer-esque, so-basic-they're-dangerous questions about art and art history. Best, Michael... posted by Michael at May 7, 2008 | perma-link | (4) comments

The Human Touch
Michael Blowhard writes: Dear Blowhards -- A little fun with comparing-and-contrasting. In our first pairing, the theme is outlines and shapes. The top building, the traditional one: Check out the variety and quantity of shapes. Trace the outline of the building with your finger -- takes some concentration and time, no? Incidentally: You may or may not know the names and histories of all the architectural elements playing roles in this composition. It really doesn't matter, unless you're (shudder) a scholar or a pedant. The important thing is to sense that they're embedded in western art history. And how is it possible not to do that? The bottom cluster of modernist buildings: a buncha shoeboxes covered with graph paper. One of them has been given a twist -- that's what too-often qualifies as "architectural creativity" these days. Trace these outlines with a finger -- it's fast, easy, and majorly boring. We're in a world of simple geometry and dumb abstraction, in other words, with no connection to anything of substance or depth, especially pre-1900 western art history. An analogy. Traditional architecture is to modernist architecture as traditional handmade art is to Adobe Illustrator images. In a handmade image ... ... you feel the presence of a person. There's subtlety, texture, depth. In many Adobe Illutrator images ... Well, they certainly pop. This image is what people in the media biz might call "a quick read" -- it's all edges, planes, gradient fills, and color swatches. But -- despite the whirliness and effects -- one glance at this image and you're done with it. Like the modernist buildings in the photo above, the Illustrator image has all the personality and lovableness of a bureaucracy. (Small aside: Doesn't it often seem that everything in our culture is doing its best to turn into spinning TV graphics?) Our next theme is color, scale, and texture: Top image: Warm colors. A structure that relates