Pop Goes the Artist!

Today I finally saw the Ansel Adams exhibit at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and it was everything I dreamed it would be. I’m not a huge fan of the Corcoran’s permanent collection (maybe just because I have to pay to see it), but they always do great special exhibitions. This was no exception.

“No matter how sophisticated you may be, a large granite mountain cannot be denied–it speaks in silence to the very core of your being.”

I don’t know much about photography, but I do know that Ansel Adams (1902 - 1984) is a phenomenal photographer. If you’re trying to argue for photography as a fine art rather than a craft, then Adams is the photographer to turn to for proof: hundreds of beautiful photos and not a snapshot among them. He has a gift for capturing atmosphere and infinite space on a two-dimensional surface, and an equal ability to turn the seemingly random arrangements of nature into unified compositions that any painter would envy. The difference is, a painter, even if he is working from life, can rearrange elements freely, while a photographer can only work with what is already there. Adams had a brilliant eye for finding a focal point in an overwhelming panorama.

“Sometimes I do get to places just when God’s ready to have somebody click the shutter.”

The exhibit itself, which closes on January 27, incorporated a number of more “unusual” Adams images, including still lifes, portraits, and architectural and cityscapes alongside his iconic photographs of Yosemite and the American West. It provided a broader view of Adams’ portfolio and proved his magnificent artistic range. In fact, prior to seeing this exhibition, I didn’t know just how much non-landscape photography he did.

“Some photographers take reality…and impose the domination of their own thought and spirit. Others come before reality more tenderly and a photograph to them is an instrument of love and revelation.”

I was sorely tempted to buy the show catalog (when am I not?), but it was expensive and I have to pay my hosting bill this month. Luckily, I can console myself with one of the books I got for Christmas, Ansel Adams: 400 Photographs. Yes, it is as beautiful as it sounds, if overwhelming. It’s mostly landscapes, arranged by period and location, with a few other types of photo for variety. So maybe the show catalog would have be redundant anyway.

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed.”

(All Ansel Adams quotations from ThinkExist.com. Images pictured: The Tetons and the Snake River, 1942 (source) and Aspens, Northern New Mexico, 1958 (source). They’re two of my favorite Adams photographs.)

A few days ago, I went to see the Edward Hopper exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. All exaggeration aside, it was the best art exhibit I have seen in years. I actually went through it twice, because once was not enough.

Before this exhibit, I liked Hopper’s work, but not with the enthusiasm that I reserve for, say, van Gogh. Seeing his work in person, however, moved him into my “top five.” I don’t know why there is such a difference between seeing a photograph of a painting and see the painting in person, but there is. The painting is usually bigger, of course. The colors are brighter and clearer. You can see how the texture of the paper or canvas gives another dimension to the texture of the brush strokes. But somehow that doesn’t adequately explain the difference in the emotional experience. I look at a photo of a Hopper painting and think “lonely,” but standing in front of one, even in the midst of a crowd of people, I feel lonely.

(Although, in fairness, Hopper himself said that “the loneliness thing is overdone.” So maybe I just see what I want to see. But I can’t be the only one.)

Emotions aside, I was also impressed by Hopper’s style and choice of subject matter. I love the strong geometry of the buildings, and his ability to paint an object with just detail enough. He makes frequent and striking use of strong contrasts between light and dark, which I love. His colors are rich and often just shy of realism, which goes a long way towards establishing a mood.

Most importantly for me, the exhibit changed the way I looked at the city. As I walked through D.C. after seeing the exhibit, I saw the buildings differently. Not just the “important” buildings, but the odd corners, the fire escapes and the apartment balconies. I know nothing about architecture, and it frankly doesn’t interest me in itself, but as a subject for painting, I’ve begun to see it in a new light. That’s something.

The exhibit closes tomorrow, but if you’re in the D.C. area today, run, don’t walk, to the National Gallery and brave the crowds. This exhibit is worth it.

Images pictured: “Cape Cod Morning” (source) and “Morning Sun” (source).

One of my (many, many) favorite ways to waste time on the Internet is Etsy.com, which describes itself as a “place to buy and sell all things handmade.” And when they say “all things” they really mean it. People sell candles, fine art prints, clothing, furniture, paintings, notebooks, jewelry, sculpture, everything. And it’s almost uniformly beautiful, cool, unique stuff, with something to appeal to every taste. Generally pretty affordable, too, although I haven’t bought anything yet. (Which is not to say I haven’t been tempted–I have, more times than I can count.) At some point, I intend to set up my own Etsy shop to sell my work. I don’t think it’s a good idea while I’m still in school, since I don’t have the time to consistently add to my portfolio, plus, eight months of the year I don’t even live in the same state as most of my artwork.

Through Etsy, I’ve discovered a lot of really cool artists, many of whom have websites of their own. budanART (blog here) paints incredible abstracted landscape that are full of gorgeous colors and shapes. She offers prints of her paintings as well.

Winged Lion (website here) is a linoleum block printer (and watercolorist and jewelry artist) whose talent awes me. I’ve experimented with block printing just enough to know that it’s very hard work–and the more colors you add, the harder it is. Nevertheless, all of her prints are crisp and perfectly registered. (My favorites are the Earth & Sea series.) Inspiring and humbling at the same time.

Armato Design (blog here) is a husband & wife team who does lovely letterpress stationary on a 100-year-old press. I have no idea how the process works, but their results are wonderful. If I were a richer and more social woman, I would commission them to do a whole set of old-fashioned stationary and I would conduct all my correspondence by snail mail. Someday…

In the meantime, go explore Etsy for yourself and find your own favorites!

While I was at the National Gallery of Art the other day to see the “Prayers and Portraits” exhibit, I also had to stop by the galleries containing pieces from the museum’s late medieval collection. I prefer earlier medieval art to later, but what I love most of all is medieval sculpture. Something about the rounded, simple, and slightly stylized forms captivates me. The NGA doesn’t have a huge collection of medieval sculpture (probably about ten pieces on display), but by far my favorite piece is the one pictured here, a fifteenth century English rendition of St. George slaying the dragon, carved in alabaster and painted. I love the way the curves of the dragon’s tail fit beneath the belly of the horse and the way the curve of the horse’s neck matches the curve of the dragon’s. It’s a compact and elegant piece, despite the broken pieces. Even though it represents a scene of action, there’s a certain stillness about it that I find very attractive.

The statue on the right is from a medieval museum in Paris. I don’t remember which museum, however, or even what it’s a statue of (monk? mourner?) because I lost the small notebook in which I wrote down all the info about titles and artists and museums. (And no, I still have not renamed and sorted and Internet photo album-ed all the photos I took. Whoops.) Anyway, I do remember that this particular statue was pretty small–maybe six inches high. I was struck again by that gorgeous stillness, which in the case of this piece is due largely to its symmetry. I’d love to know the context for this piece, because I doubt it was meant to be seen all by itself.

And finally, my favorite piece of medieval art ever: Ye Olde Medieval Towel Bar. I am not making this up: the lovely lady pictured on the left is, in fact, a towel bar. From the Middle Ages. I saw this gem in the same museum as the monk above and was captivated. I mean, of all the things you expect to be preserved for six centuries, a towel bar would be near the bottom of the list. It’s an interesting glimpse into everyday life. And it makes me giggle. A lot.

(All photographs are my own.  You can click the thumbnails to open them larger and in a new window.)

As far as I’m concerned, the Book of Kells is one of the finest pieces of artwork in the world and quite possibly the pinnacle of medieval artistic achievement. (The “Dark Ages”? I think not.) Sure, I’m biased–I’m a medieval studies major, after all. But any way you look at it, it is a phenomenal artwork.

It dates from about AD 800 and was created by monks in Ireland. It contains all four gospels in Latin (it was still several hundred years before people would begin trying to translate Scriptures into the local languages), as well as some commentary. Although it is called the Book of Kells, it was probably created (or at least begun) at another monastery (probably at Iona) and moved to the Abbey of Kells to protect from the wave of Viking invasions that swept Ireland in the early Middle Ages. It is now on permanent display at Trinity College in Dublin, where they turn a new page of it every day.

Not all of the pages are as lavishly illuminated as the one I’ve posted here, which features the Chi Ro symbol (this page is from near the beginning of the Gospel of Matthew), although I am pretty sure there are no pages entirely without decoration. (Not all of the decoration has been completed, though–the manuscript was never completed.) The Book of Kells contains ten full-page decorations, including portraits of each of the four evangelists and a portrait of the Virgin and Child. Unlike many medieval manuscripts, the Book of Kells and many other Irish manuscripts contain no “true” illumination with gold leaf, but they do feature a wide range of pigments, many of them rare and expensive.

Irish manuscript illumination is unique and easily distinguishable from that of mainland Europe because of the heavy Celtic influence that can be seen in the imagery. When the missionaries (St. Patrick and others) came to convert Ireland, they made a great effort to incorporate and “Christianize” as much of the existing culture as possible. This is part of the reason the conversion of Ireland produced virtually no martyrs. So instead of pursuing a “red martyrdom” of blood, Irish monks sought a “white martyrdom” of self-denial, contemplation, and solitary wandering in the wilderness. The swirling and complex imagery of the Book of Kells and other Irish manuscripts from the same period reflects this rich inner spirituality, inviting the viewer on a visual journey that is somewhat analogous to the physical and spiritual journeys undertaken by Irish monks and mystics.

However you interpret it, it is a fascinating marriage of Christian and pagan imagery, of beauty and practicality, a spectacular artistic achievement, and a feast for the eyes.

(Image and some facts courtesy of Wikipedia, which has a pretty nice article on the Book of Kells, as well as some of the other major Irish manuscripts, like the Lindisfarne Gospels and the Book of Durrow.)