Bicycle Chandelier

More Ai Weiwei.  Who knows something about blogs.

Chandelier sculpture from the 2015 exhibition at the Royal Academy in London.

 Constructed from beaded bicycle frames.

 Medium of mobility, not-quite-pedestrian, quotidian symbol of China, dripping with faux crystal.

Weight of the World

Since the recent reports on Global Climate, and the not-coincidental Civilians show The Great Immensity at the Public, I've been thinking a lot about the Adrián Villar Rojas exhibition we caught at the Serpentine last year, Today, We Reboot the Planet.

The floor of the gallery consisted (for this exhibition) of bricks fabricated from native clay in the artist's home country of Argentina.  The bricks were laid without mortar, which meant that they clinked against the sub-floor and each other when people walked on them, creating a constant descant of sound, and conveying the shaky ground we all walk in this pivotal moment of high-stakes environmental poker.

Clay was his primary medium throughout, most prominently in the central image of an elephant bearing the weight of the building - and, as I read the sculpture, bearing up under the weight of development (another kind of 'building'), industry and imperialism with their interlocking versions of environmental effrontery.

A central studio with stained glass gable windows contained dozens of smaller sculptures, also mainly fired clay, with other media, including found objects, mixed in.

Maybe you'll forgive me if I admit that this one, even with its explicit connection to the earth in the form of farm and gardening implements, reminds me of Marvin the Martian.

Happy May Day.

The Sandcastle Metaphor

Beautiful, Brilliant, Brutal.

Chad Wright's Master Plan series.

The Sandcastle Metaphor gets the (Sub)Urban Planning treatment.

Development, speculation, sprawl, environmental shifts, child's play, the American Dream.

Thanks to Colossal, which also has a good piece about the Xu Bing exhibit at Mass MoCA.

As it happens, Cory and I had our Fancy Wilco Dinner at Solid Sound a couple weeks ago in that room under those giant Phoenix sculptures.  But that's another box of wine...

Last from London

Well, for now anyway...

One last photo montage video from London.  It's a little longer than the others, but it's split into two parts, so that may help.  Think of it as an A Side and a B Side.

I had to resort to YouTube for this, but I was able improve the resolution a bit.  Enjoy.

A lot of this is pretty self explanatory - don't think you need me to say much about Big Ben, Westminster, the Houses of Parliament, or Richard the Lionheart.  I do want to mention, especially for the Rodin fans out there, the juxtaposition of the Burghers of Calais in the shadow of Parliament (as opposed to casts I've seen at the Rodin Museums in Paris and Philadelphia, and the Metropolitan Museum in New York, all of which I have since found were cast after this one in London).  The placement in Victoria Tower Gardens is poignant in that these French business leaders and legal authorities are shadowed by one of the most important legislative structures in the Western World; and it calls to mind their story - offered as a sacrifice to save the citizens of Calais from Edward III's siege of their city.  (Remember Edward III's hunting palace from an earlier post, and the last video?)

It's worth mentioning are a couple of light art pieces from the Tate Modern that were as photogenic as they were engaging:

• Lis Rhodes' Light Music was the setting for the shots that come near the end of the first song.  It was part of the Tanks portion of the Tate Modern - which is amazeballs and you should definitely go there.  I think that Light Music has closed up and moved out of the space, but we were lucky to catch it while we were there.  The projectors practically dared you not to walk in and interact with the light.  Luminous and irresistible. 

• The sequence about halfway through featuring two light tables in the room with white walls is made up of shots of an Alfredo Jaar piece called Lament of the Images.  He's looking at the way people can be so saturated with media images (and words) that they can be blinded by the excess: so many images flood ones view that one stops seeing the content of what is actually being shown.  That blindness is revealed in that installation (as I interpret it) by the light that floods the room as the light tables spread apart (the tables become a light source, illuminating the people, objects, and walls themselves, but the light itself ceases to be an object of attention), and conversely by the darkness that pervades when the tables close in together (the beams of light become focal, but the darkness literally prevents one from seeing around it).  Beautiful, simple, this piece had a powerful, magnetic draw, and I also enjoyed the lucky arrival of a school group when I went back into the room to grab these shots.

Also part of the Tanks was Suzanne Lacy's The Crystal Quilt.  My photographs don't remotely do justice to the complex power of that brilliantly feminist activist piece [which had the added interest, to me, of having originated in Minneapolis, a city (and a landscape) dear to my heart, woven into this contemporary art exhibit in London].  The video embedded in that link does a better job, but if you come across an exhibition of The Crystal Quilt anywhere, you really owe it to yourself to check it out.

And I can't sign off without mentioning the shots from the Churchill War Rooms - including the color-coded phones, his cabinet meeting room, and the map room complete with a caricature of Hitler penciled into the middle of the Atlantic.  Fascinating. 

And then undercutting any sort of heightened thoughts or reflections on the living memory of War in London, and how vastly it differs from a sense of war in New York, we have shots of the Sherlock Holmes pub which I took for my Sherlock-fan nephew, Mols getting ready for her kayak final test in her wet suit, and shots of our time in Shoreditch/High Street.  All of which was fantastic!

As for the music: why can't Rudie fail?  Just because.

Summer Sun

Lots going on as that ridiculously hot summer gives way to a much more temperate fall.  Some of what's going on falls into the Not-So-Good category.  Here are some shots to reclaim the joy a little bit. They're from a Chalk Art Festival we went to a couple months back.

Also on the 'things that make life worth living' side of the scale was the Fresh Grass bluegrass festival we went to at MASS MoCA last weekend.  I don't have many shots from that, but I'll post a couple here soon.  Meanwhile, I have three words for you that you should take very seriously: Carolina Chocolate Drops

SF MoMA

America (as seen in court)

1944: The Commonwealth of Massachusetts v. Igor Stravinsky.

Well, almost: Stravinsky was not arrested in Boston for writing an unconventional arrangement of The Star-Spangled Banner, as online mythology would have it. However, his version of the National Anthem was Banned in Boston on the logic that he was "tampering with public property."





This mugshot, often conflated with the Anthem incident, would seem actually to be from some kind of visa application process. How he got banged up? That's a story I don't know, but would love to hear...

Backtracking

Going back in time a bit...

After the Rodin Museum, we went to Musee d'Orsay, which was fantastic and incredible. Cory and I relied on some podcasts on this trip, and this was one of the places they came in handy. We didn't really have time to cover the whole place, so we let an online guide help us out. Some cheesy Rick Steves humor aside, it was useful to have some direction to streamline our visit, and the background information was rather good. Some of the info was outdated (floorplans/layouts evidently change with some frequency in Parisian museums) but that just gave us some small mysteries to solve. We communed with Degas and Renoir, Courbet and Cezanne, Daumier and Delacroix, Millet and Gaugin in this architectural wonder of a reclaimed railroad station. We got there too late in the day to get into what looked to be a pretty bitchin Van Gogh exhibition. But what the hell - you can't do everything.

Then we made our way to St. Chapelle where we were meeting friends for a piano concert. We had to wait on line outside for a bit longer than we'd thought, but that gave us the time to grab a quick cup of espresso from one of the friendly local establishments. (The Parisian's reputation for rudeness is not deserved, on the whole. Certainly no more so than in most of the places I've been.) St. Chapelle is gorgeous, with a fascinating history that I'll have more to say about later. Its beauty was very much muted by the evening darkness, but that helped to place a focus on the music. It was a concert of Chopin and Schumann solo piano works, in honor of this year being the 200th birthday for both composers. The pianist was Hugues Chabert, with whose work I must admit I was unfamiliar. It was a fine, intimate performance in a space that was sublime on a number of levels: accoustic, architectural. historical, aesthetic. And since I'm closer to worshipping music than any religious doctrine, let's go ahead and say it was a spiritual experience too.

As if that weren't enough, we then took a walk over to the Right Bank, where we sought a place to eat without the benefit of personal (or guidebook) recommendations, and settled on a no-frills but thoroughly delicious spot. I don't remember what Cory had*, but my duck confit was fab, and so was the Bordeaux that Johnathan picked out.

It was a pretty good day.

*Cory just reminded me that she had Quiche Lorraine. She enjoyed it. It felt very French.

Musee Rodin (or, Hell is in the Details)

After a most delectable lunch of galettes and cider with Christina and Johnathan at a creperie called Josselin, we went over to the Rodin museum to get our sculpture on.




The weather turned before long.



So we just took that opportunity to go to the indoor part of the museum (converted from the residence where Rodin lived for several years toward the end of his life).

For this next one, I pretended to be shooting a sculpture but got a nice shot of Cory peeking around it

It was a fantastic museum, of course. I wasn't too shutter-happy inside, but when we went back outside, I got drawn into the Gates of Hell pretty deep.

Like Milton and Marlow, Bosch and Goethe and (especially) Dante, Rodin had a special fascination with the infernal, and and it was the subject of some of his best work.

I'm the first to admit that it can damage the experience (and be just plain annoying) to spend one's travels totally focused on taking photographs or shooting video. But by the same token, if you maintain a balance, the camera can help you pay attention to visual elements in a number of ways. I spent a lot of time on this trip engaging with details in some fairly grand works of art and architecture.

You can see the raindrops on the bronze in some of these - it rained pretty hard while we were inside, and it sprinkled on and off when we went back out too.

Rodin worked directly from Dante's Inferno to make this masterpiece, and he incorporated elements of some of his other major sculptures.

It was a pretty wonderful museum experience. This was mid-afternoon on our second day there.

I'll leave you for now with a reminder that the Eiffel Tower should never be interpreted to have any phallic significance whatsoever.