Real Clear Arts

Judith H. Dobrzynski on Culture

Exhibitions

In Philadelphia: Revolutionary Art

In today’s New York Times, I wrote about the conservation and erection of George Washington’s surviving field headquarters tent. a fragile thing, as you may well imagine. It was published in the print edition under the clever headline Washington Plotted Here. Online, the headline is Where George Washington Slept (Perhaps Not Well).

That in itself says a little something about the world we live in–but it’s the topic I want to mention.

The new Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia, which owns the tent, will use it as the centerpiece. Visitors will enter a dedicated theater, watch a 10-12 minute film about Washington’s leadership, and then see the tent revealed, dramatically: After the screen, a scrim and another layer rise, the tent comes into view behind shatter-resistant glass. Leaving their seats, people can press their noses up against the glass to see this national treasure.

In my article, I mentioned some of the other artifacts that will be on view:  Aside from those I mention in my article, they include personal items, letters and diaries from the revolutionary era, including a soldier’s wooden canteen “branded with “UStates” at a time when the phrase was merely an aspiration.”

There will also be some paintings. Perhaps the most interesting one, though, will be an exact replica of Louis Charles-Auguste Couder’s Siege of Yorktown (1781), showing Washington and Rochambeau. The original is in Versailles.

Details about the work will be announced this coming Friday, and you’ll be able to see it in person when the new museum opens on Apr. 19, the 242nd anniversary of “the shot heard ’round the world.”

Click on the link above for my article to see what the tent will look like at the museum. The one I’ve posted here gives a look at the tent outside in the snow.

The opening of this museum is particularly timely, as Carol Cadou, Mount Vernon’s Senior Vice President for Historic Preservation and Collections wrote to me in an email exchange:

At a time when we see conflicts across the globe, and when we see division in our country and others, it seems particularly relevant for a museum to address the principles and mission George Washington, the Continental Army, and their allies fought for so bravely, so admirably, and with unity.  The Museum of the American Revolution offers a great opportunity to make our nation’s early struggles relevant and meaningful to today’s audiences at a time when Americans need perspective and inspiration.

 

 

 

At A Time Like This, You Want to Talk “Still Life”? Yes.

At times like these, when not only the United States but also the world is a-twitter–no, forget the pun, much more than a-twitter–seriously concerned about the political direction of so many countries, it may seem trivial to spend time on issues of art. Or even looking at art.

Not really–readers know that I have always fostered the idea of museums as a place to think, to seek knowledge and revelation. I was cheered by the news that Angela Merkel, instead of watching the inauguration of Donald Trump, went to the opening of the Barberini Museum in Potsdam. Far from a dereliction of duty, it was admirable. She can catch up with the speech–and probably already has.

I’ve been looking myself, as you have been. Several days ago, I went to Houston, to see “Two Centuries of American Still-Life Painting: The Frank and Michelle Hevrdejs Collection,” a recently announced gift to the Museum of Fine Arts there. As I write in a review published in today’s Wall Street Journal,

It’s a Texas-sized goal. And if the exhibition doesn’t quite attain it, well, it does succeed on other levels. For one, that private collectors have amassed such a wide range of American still lifes at all is a “unique” feat, writes renowned scholar William H. Gerdts, himself a collector of the genre, in the exhibition catalogue.

The collection doesn’t meet its goal because it’s too small to hit every point in the story. But, as I write at the end, it’s growing, and maybe someday it will.

Meantime, go see it if you can.

Photo Credit: Courtesy of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston

It’s Still the Christmas Season

lh_presse_heilige_nacht_meister_tucheraltar_beschneidung_christi_1440_1450When I wrote two recent seasonal posts here–about art-related Christmas/Chanukkah presents and about the Star Trail at the National Gallery–I had  forgotten about an exhibition whose notice I had saved. It came in a press release dated Sept. 1, and I just turned it up in a bout of cleaning out emails.

Since Oct. 12, the Liebieghaus Sculpturen Sammlung in Frankfurt has been exhibiting Holy Night: The Christmas Story and its Imagery. Since the nativity of Christ is one of the most explored subjects in art, why is this notable? For me, the subject is fascinating–as an expert in Medieval and Renaissance manuscripts, but an agnostic, once told me, comparing the many images of, say, the Annunciation is a rewarding exercise for any art-lover. You don’t have to be Christian to love Christian art, even in this age of increasing secularization in the United States.

lh_presse_heilige_nacht_maria_in_hoffnung_anfang_16_jhThe Liebieghaus exhibition focuses on art of the Middle Ages, supplemented with Early Christian and with Baroque images. You can read more details in the press release. Since I have not seen the exhibition in person, I can only repeat that it offers “an impressive demonstration of the surprising diversity of pictorial themes related to the Christmas story.”

In addition to well-known motifs such as the Annunciation, the Adoration of the Shepherds and the Adoration of the Magi, many stories and images that have meanwhile all but fallen into oblivion await the visitor: episodes such as Joseph’s Doubt and the Circumcision or the miracles on the flight into Egypt.

It is displayed chronologically, from the Annunciation to the return from the Flight into Egypt, and continues through Jan. 29.

lh_presse_heilige_nacht_zug_drei_koenige_ende_15_jhI’m posting a few images that, I hope, are new (or newish) to you–of the circumcision of Jesus by the Master of the Tucher (c. 1440-50), a sculpture of a pregnant Mary from Swabia, early 16th C, and a sculpture of the Magi from the Upper Rhine, late 15th C. (top to bottom), all courtesy of the Liebieghaus.

You can see more images and installation photos here.

There’s another reason this is interesting. The Liebiehaus, as you will remember, was until recently headed by Max Hollein–now the director of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco. Hollein has said he wants the two museums he oversees, the DeYoung and the Legion of Honor, to organize more of their own exhibitions.

If this is the kind of show Hollein green-lights, I am hopeful that he will also approve a great variety of exhibitions in San Francisco.

 

Comes the Revolution!

Don’t let that word “revolution” scare you this tense Election Day. I’m not talking about the USA. I’m referring to the wonderful exhibition now on view at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Paint the Revolution: Mexican Modernism, 1910-1950. It’s a massive show–more than 280 works by 70 artists, filling several galleries.

Tamayo's "Lion and Horse"
Tamayo’s “Lion and Horse”

And it’s more than good, as I write in a review that is published today in The Wall Street Journal, Fight for Creative Culture: Political upheavals paralleled bursts of artistic progesss.

The museum says that the last time a museum organized such a sweeping show of Mexican modernism was 1943, and then, too, it played the role of a benign Hernán Cortés, revealing “uncharted territory” to the established orders. But, as the show documents. Mexican modernists played an important role in the development of international modernism. We know it, maybe, but we don’t know it well, and we don’t know too many names beyond the big five–Rivera, Kahlo, Tamayo, Orozco and Siqueiros.

Paint the Revolution shows them off very well, and adds many more to their ranks. I wish I could have dropped more names into the review. I mentioned eight other Mexicans (if the link above does not work, try this one, which will), plus a few Americans who worked in Mexico. But if I had had more room, I certainly would have cited Dr. Atl, especially for his wonderful self-portrait; Angel Zarraga, for Cubist works including the funny “Monkey Painter”; Roberto Montenegro–for several works; Adolfo Best Maugerd, for his self-portrait and “The Powdered Woman,” among others; and many more.

1158px-saturnino_herran_-_the_offering_-_google_art_project
Saturnino Herrán’s “The Offering”

The entire photography section is terrific, a small but splendid array, a mix of Mexicans and foreigners who moved there, that shows the range of modernism and that is, lead exhibition curator Matthew Affron said, a microcosm of the entire exhibition.

Affron, the museum’s Curator of Modern Art, headed a team that included Mark A. Castro, assistant curator of European Painting, Dafne Cruz Porchini, a postdoctoral researcher at Colegio de México, Mexico City; and Renato González Mello, Director of the Institute for Aesthetic Investigation, National Autonomous University of Mexico.

Kahlo's "The Suicide of Dorothy Hale"
Kahlo’s “The Suicide of Dorothy Hale”

There are a lot of memorable artworks in this show and many good or interesting works, too. I’m posting some of each (you can decide for yourselves).

 

 

 

Rivera's "Dance in Tehuantepec"
Rivera’s “Dance in Tehuantepec”
4a5326bd4ff8cfcf7e298a22973db178
Martínez’s “Poverty Vendors”
Zarraga's "Monkey Painter"
Zarraga’s “Monkey Painter”
Dr. Atl's "Self-Portrait with Popocatepetl"
Dr. Atl’s “Self-Portrait with Popocatepetl”

And many more. The museum has a slide show of several other pictures here.

The Revelation in Four “Women Modernists”

9902bb514b018222bcc6adec44a144cfThe Norton Museum of Art in West Palm Beach has, under director Hope Alswang, strived to increase the exposure to art by women. It is, for example, known for its annual “Recognition of Art by Women” exhibitions that showcase the work of living painters and sculptors. The artists chosen for that, in my opinion, have been excellent.

So organizing and touring “O’Keeffe, Stettheimer, Torr, Zorach: Women Modernists in New York” was a natural. I first saw it last winter at the Norton and in June I visited the same show at the Portland Museum of Art in Maine. Ellen Roberts, the curator, chose these four because they all knew one another, lived for a time in New York, and faced prejudices against women of their day. The show considers about 60 works made between 1910 and 1935. My review of the show was published last week by The Wall Street Journal. (Or go here.)

Because it was an “argument” exhibit–putting forth the case that these women would have had different, better reception, and would now be ranked in higher places in the art historical canon, had gender not been an issue–I was duty-bound to consider whether it lived up to that assertion. I found that it did not–not quite. Torr remains a minor character, and so does Zorach–though both of them, in my opinion, had talent.

But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a good exhibition. I’m glad the Norton organized it and, in particular, gave museum-goers an opportunity to see more of Zorach’s and Torr’s work. We know the other two much, much better.

Torr-OysterStakes-Heckscher[1]Seeing the same show in two museums was, as usual, enlightening–illustrating just how important space is. At the Norton, after an introductory gallery, each artist was showcased in her own gallery. The downside: there was little incentive for viewers to compare and contrast. Portland, working in a different and more difficult space, reshuffled the works thematically and mixed the work of all four to show the many faces of modernism. The downside: there wasn’t much of a dialogue in the works of the four artists. Torr and O’Keeffe share an aesthetic, but the others are very different.

I preferred the Norton installation.

For me, who likes and appreciates the work of all four artists, I came away with a greater appreciation for Zorach than I had before. Her range was broad; she painted well in many styles. It really is too bad that she curtailed her career for family and put her husband’s career first. I think she was probably the better artist.

Her Provincetown, Sunrise and Moonset, from 1916, is above left, while Torr’s Oyster Stakes, from 1930 is below right.