Being an Arts in New York City class, we have been primarily focused on how New York is home to such varying styles of art, and the art contained within. What I think is sometimes missed is how New York can be made into art itself. There is so much beauty in the city, which I feel is ignored for the more obvious beauties like paintings and shows. It is important to see the cities inherent loveliness as well.

What really put this into focus was a 1 minute long timelapse video I was recently directed to. It is made up of many different shots taken from a single point in the city, namely the 51st floor of the Bank of America Tower at 1 Bryant Park. The video captures the life of the city from its single vantage point in a way that I feel is missed when walking along on the streets. It is a reminder that the city has big picture, one that can only be seen from above. Even in this one minute long video, the city screams with life and passion. But don’t take my word for it; watch the video yourself:

Zach mentioned in our last class that second graders are more familiar with Da Vinci and Picasso than with any of the modern artists on the scene today. I think that it’s a good observation, but like most good observations, I’m not about to leave it at that. Zach suggested that the reason behind this “deficiency” (for lack of a better word) is that so many people are considered artists today that it’s almost impossible to determine who is worth telling kids about. I do agree with that explanation, but I’d like to offer an alternative one. Perhaps – and this could be entirely off the mark – it has something to do with censorship.

Renoir's "Mademoiselle Legrand, 1875" is an innocuous painting, both graphically and conceptually, that is most definitely suitable for a younger viewership

I make sweeping statements a lot in these posts of mine, and I guess this one will be no exception. Take this with a grain of salt, okay? So this is my gross generalization: Classic/older art = more subdued, less questionable content. Modern/post-modern art = brow-raising, sometimes downright shocking content. I know it’s not entirely true regarding every individual work (and it might not even be true as a generality), but I think that part of the reason kids don’t know about say, Tracey Emin, but do know about Da Vinci is because of a certain hesitance on behalf of parents and educators to expose children to certain, um, mature elements of art. Maybe not. You can just scratch this whole theory if you want. Now that I’ve worked it out in writing, I’m not sure I agree with it so much either.

But onto my next point – censorship need not imply filtering out potentially corrupting material. As in, determining age-appropriate content in general involves considering conceptually age-appropriate content as much as it does visually age-appropriate content. Ready for my next generalization? Classic/older art = more point-blank and concrete. Modern/post-modern art = more malleable and abstract. On a pedagogical level, it would be ridiculous to expose children to abstract art and expect them to appreciate it without first determining whether or not they are cognitively capable of comprehending it (my post about The Willing Suspension of Disbelief touches on this). That’s why, like most kinds of effective instruction, art education comes in progressional drips. First – Rembrandt/Da Vinci. Next – Monet/Renoir/Degas. Then – Dali/Picasso. A while after that – bring on the big guns. What I mean to say is that there has to build-up to the cerebral crescendo that is conceptual art. It takes time, and it is probably most effectively conveyed to those who have passed adolescence and tweenhood. That’s why third graders don’t go around displaying their knowledge about De Kooning and Duchamp (not that many adults go around doing that either). I think this aspect of “censorship” might play a big part in Zach’s observation. It’s not censorship in the negative sense of the word. It’s merely in the pragmatic sense of the word. It opens up a whole new discussion about the nuances of art education – when to begin, how to begin, what to include, what to leave out, etc. Thankfully, that is not what my post is about, as those are all questions that I don’t think a day’s,week’s, month’s, or year’s worth of deliberation can effectively answer.

This article that I found in the New York Times describes Leironica Hawkins, a woman who lives in a homeless shelter who was recently diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, and her interesting story of how she uses art as a form of escapism and used it as a form of expression. She lived a hard life with social problems, sensory issues, periods of depression, involuntary twitching, and didn’t know what was wrong with her until she was recently diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome and placed in a New York City shelter in harsh conditions because she could not support herself. The routine she found most satisfying was to walk around New York from early in the morning until the 10 pm curfew of the shelter and check out art museums and other art venues, the only form of escape from the harsh reality of living in the shelter (another connection between homelessness and the arts!) and the terrible disease that continues to plague her. Her favorite places include the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the New York Public Library on 46th Street between Lexington and Third Avenues.

Recently, she saw that the Library was looking for art to display. Hawkins had a talent for drawing that she discovered early on, and decided to take a crack at getting her artwork displayed. She worked tireless hours in her shower in the shelter drawing and sweating over her piece, but in the end, it all paid off. She made a comic book using characters that all had Asperger’s Syndrome and were based on her experiences of the hardships she went through. The Public Library ended up posting the artwork and it is on display until December 30th.

This article is an excellent example of how art can be used as a form of expression, not just in the artistic sense, but also in expressing life experiences and challenges. Art is also a great way to escape life for a little bit. I must admit that whenever we went to an arts event this year (especially the interesting ones), I tended to forget about the outside world and focus on the art at hand. If you’re looking for a healthy and legal way to escape life for a bit, why not turn to art?

A few weeks ago, some fellow classmates blogged about Rirkrit Tiravanija’s “Untitled (Free)” installation in MoMA.  (For those who do not recall, he is the Argentine-born Thai artist who wants museum-goers to experience the artwork themselves.  With this inspiring motivational force, he serves curry to visitors.  For a quick synopsis, read the last section of this article, titled “Art.”  We saw the candy exhibit, too, but were hesitant to reach down and grab the silver-wrapped pieces).  On our way up to the sixth floor to visit de Kooning’s installation, my two friends and I made a pit-stop on the second floor for some curry.  We experienced art!

Somewhere in a corner of the second floor, Tiravanija’s installation is designed to make you feel as if you are walking through an unfinished apartment.  The framework for the rooms is up, but you can see through the entire section of the “apartment” that is on display.  When you first walk in (after a man kindly directs you to enter the exhibit the proper way), there are a bunch of cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other, filled with empty supplies for the curry, including the wok box, and beer.  As you stroll into the adjacent room, a man on your right clicks a counter, and you enter the kitchen area, complete with a refrigerator filled with water–which is also part of the experience.  Then, if you desire the full experience, you walk over to the tables adorned with the artist’s own recipe of fragrant green curry and rice; if you are a little skeptical, he lists the ingredients both on the table and on the door of the refrigerator.  After getting a scoop of rice and curry, you go to sit down among other museum goers.

The beautiful part of this exhibit was, indeed, experiencing art and tasting another’s culture.  However, it was more than that.  What the New York Times articles seemed to ignore is the effect of the exhibit.  It created a sort of home-like environment where I was given the opportunity to eat, chat, and experience something new with my friends.  Tiravanija recreates home with his installation, which certainly makes sense if he was raised in Argentina.  (One of my friends who joined us at the museum is Argentinian; her family is very close and bonds over food).  Maybe most cultures share the experience of familial and friendly bonding over meals but at a more personal, within-the-confines-of-home level.  Tiravanija succeeded in providing a setting in which strangers can create similar interactions.  The installation certainly would not have had the same effect had I gone alone.  Maybe Tiravanija’s main purpose was to demonstrate to visitors that home is not a location but rather a community, that home is composed of people.

I absolutely recommend and encourage you to check his installation out with some friends, maybe even ones that you normally do not get to spend much time with.  Hey, plus you get a free lunch.

This past Saturday, I walked throughout Willem de Kooning’s vast MoMA exhibit with two of my friends.  We pointed out which ones we would like to have hanging in our future homes and commented on various details in the pieces, such as certain textures in certain strokes, the presence of newspaper print, time periods, and mediums employed.  We did not read all of the descriptive cards next to the pieces; however, on the ones that I did read, my favorite portions were either explanatory phrases regarding how de Kooning arrived at the piece and de Kooning’s own words.  For example, in some of his pieces, it was obvious that there were newspaper articles in the background; yet, the description said that this result was accidental.  De Kooning simply used the newspaper to dry up the excess paint left on the canvas, thus never intending to have it transfer onto the canvas.  Did he cry about it?  No, instead, he let it be.

After seeing the exhibit, I’m beginning to more fully understand the discussion that we shared as a class last Thursday about de Kooning’s work and whether it was growth, experimentation, or something entirely different.   Although his “genre” of art is abstract, it amazed me how different his pieces were.  He certainly had separate periods, and the descriptive cards tended to relate these to his physical location at the time of the paintings, which, in itself, is significant.  Rather than waiting to get somewhere else or have a revelation, de Kooning let his current position inspire him, and that is what he worked with– a reminder that we can all learn from.

Though I certainly do not understand most of his pieces after viewing them once, I appreciate and admire them because they symbolize how he lived his life.  Sometimes, de Kooning specified what his painting portrayed in the title; other times, he just let it happen.  He was not afraid to try, even if it took a few years.  One of his quotations read, “Even abstract shapes must have a likeness.”  De Kooning had a plan, but when the gray areas surfaced, he kept moving.  In the words of a friend, “You can’t steer a ship that isn’t moving.”  In the words of de Kooning, “I have to change to stay the same.”

Throughout our wonderful seminar we have explored so many influential artists from all different centuries. From Rembrandt to Matisse, Richard Serra to de Kooning, we have certainly broadened our artistic horizons and tweaked our sensitivities to becoming “art snobs.” But a question has always lingered in the back of my head. As we viewed art from a myriad of generations, it is apparent that female artists are a relatively new phenomenon. So why have there been no great women artists in Frans Hals’ century or Vermeer’s lifetime? And then I found the art of Artemisia Gentileschi.

Self Portrait as the Allegory of Painting

Born on July 8, 1593 to the Tuscan painter Orazio Gentileschi, Artemisia Gentileschi entered into one of the most enthralling periods of Western art. As a female Italian Early Baroque painter, her recognition as a talented artist in a historically male oriented art world is an indisputable attestation to her remarkable expertise.

Influenced by Italian artist Caravaggio, Artemisia painted brilliant works with bold brushstrokes and unique subjects. In her painting Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting (1630), Caravaggio’s chiaroscuro is evident. Artemisia’s face is strikingly illuminated against the subdued background and shadows of her body. The shift from light to dark is not gradual; Artemisia appears in a dramatic spotlight. Combined with the rich texture of her clothing, her rustling hair, and her working arm stretched across the canvas in an asymmetrical diagonal, Artemisia appears alive and almost tangible in Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting.

The title of this painting is comprehensible upon further research. Italian aesthetician Cesare Ripa compiled his emblem book Iconologia in 1593, which identified central qualities of various concepts in art, science, vices, and virtues. Ripa attached an allegorical description to each figure. Artemisia follows all but one of Ripa’s allegorical references of painting. Ripa’s personification of painting is a beautiful woman with unruly curls, a vibrant dress of shifting colors, a gold pendant hanging from her neck, and a piece of cloth binding her mouth. The bound mouth is symbolic of the artist’s reliance on non-verbal means of expression. In Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting, Artemisia encompasses all of these traits, but her mouth remains unconstrained.

Women during Artemisia’s time were expected to be submissive and dependent on men. They were forced to accept domestic roles and were not considered proper sources of creativity. Artemisia’s unbound mouth represents her refusal to “keep quite” in the male dominated world as she asserts her independence as an astounding female artist.

That is the title of 38-year-old Brendan Powell Smith’s interesting new book, which features passages in the Bible illustrated… in Legos. That’s right, Legos. The Tower of Babel, Noah’s Ark, and the Garden of Eden can all be found in this book – appropriately captioned with quotes taken directly from the “Good Book itself” AND constructed from thousands of different types of the beloved children’s building block toys. It’s definitely a unique take on the ancient text, no?

Unfortunately, as with the original source material, there is now controversy associated with the former web-programmer-turned-author’s work. The “racy scenes” depicted in the book were too much for some shoppers at Wal-Mart’s Sam’s Club, which “pulled the book from its shelves last month after only two weeks, despite brisk sales.” In the words of the author, most of the criticism has been voiced by people who are “either mad [he’s] an atheist, or unaware that there’s sex and violence in the Bible, too.”

On Smith’s website, bricktestament.com, the author warns that the Bible “contains material some may consider morally objectionable and/or inappropriate for children.” That’s why he was unhappy to hear that the Lego version he spent the past decade constructing (and editing so it did not include some of the more risque images his publisher did not feel comfortable putting in the final print version) was considered less appropriate for children than the other Bibles on the shelves at Sam’s Club.

In an e-mail to The Daily mail, a Sam’s Club spokesperson admits that they “miscategorized the book” and this is what led to the decision to discontinue sales; however, those who want to check the book out for themselves should not feel disappointed. “The Brick Bible” is still available at other major retailers, such as Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble, as well as at independent booksellers.

The author thought Legos would be an interesting way to tell the biblical tales, and it is hard to argue that the idea isn’t indeed… interesting. But is it really appropriate to handle the religious material in the way Brendan Powell Smith has? Does being raised by a Sunday school teacher and studying religion at Boston University give him a right to do as he pleases? Should we ignore the fact that he is handling religious material and instead focus on the creative and artistic aspects of his work? What do authorities in the religious community have to say about all of this?

Anyone interested in reading more about “The Brick Bible” and the drama surrounding Wal-Mart’s Sam’s Club can read this article. Anyone interested in viewing just a few more of the images that can be found in the book can click here.

In the everlasting debate about what exactly makes something art and who can be considered a true artist, here is Damien Hirst! In 2008, this British artist persuaded the dealers at Sotheby’s to sell 223 of his newest (at the time) artworks. And did they sell! Despite the world financial crisis that was unfolding at this time, the two-day sale of Hirst’s artwork brought in a total of $200.7 million dollars. What did the lucky buyers purchase? Well… “There were dead animals – sharks, zebras, piglets and even a calf – floating in giant glass tanks of formaldehyde; cabinets filled with diamonds; and cigarette butts. And paintings galore: spin paintings, spot paintings, paintings with butterflies pinned under glass.” There are some pretty interesting things on that list, if I do say so myself.

And now the artist is cooking up something new (well, sort of). Hirst recently started producing spot paintings again, and in want of a space to display them in, he has persuaded the gallery owner Larry Gagosian to let him take over all eleven of his galleries for a spot-painting retrospective. The exhibition is set to run from January 12th through February 18th. It will include approximately 200 works, spanning 20 years, from collections in 20 countries. Less than one-third of the show will be for sale but gallery officials say it is still too early to negotiate prices for those artworks included. The author of this article in the New York Times is already forecasting “a hailstorm of criticism” for the spot show, but the 46-year-old artist is so used to such criticisms that he doesn’t seem to mind.

The retrospective is something that he has always wanted to do, and he cites his father as the inspiration for this particular style of art (or not art?). Interestingly enough, though, of the hundreds of spot canvases that will be on display, Damien Hirst painted only five himself and employed other people to paint the rest for him. Why then, does he get the credit, if he’s not the one who was holding the paintbrush? Is it because he came up with the idea? If this is the case, then shouldn’t his father be getting at least some of the credit, since he was the one who first started painting spots on the doors of their home? Of course, all of this is assuming that these meticulously painted spots can even be considered art (and I’m sure there are those in the class who will not consider them as such).

Personally, while I don’t quite understand how it works that Hirst gets the credit while his assistants do all the actual labor, I do think the spots have some merit. They can definitely evoke some interesting thoughts. The artist actually sums it up perfectly when he says, “They’re quite hard to look at. Superficially they’re happy paintings, but then there is this underlying uneasiness. You lose your boundaries because they are hard to focus on. Do you focus on the grid or the individual spots or the painting as a whole? Once you start really looking, you get lost.” Basically, they can make a person go a little spotty. And if this is the artist’s intention for his artwork, then whose to say that it doesn’t deserve a place in the museum and gallery world?