Broad Contemporary Art Museum

GZ and I trudged from her house in West Hollywood to LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) on Sunday in 90 degree heat. It was my first look at BCAM, something I had looked forward to for months. I loved the building and you have to ride in the glass elevator that is no less than a small room. And outside the 202 restored antique LA street lights are an amazing display.

But to say I was disappointed by the contents of the building is an understatement. Aaagh. Once again, I really don't get it. I'm being very repetitive lately with my "what is art" theme, I wish I could get off it, but I can't. As long as the public is being fooled and hoodwinked I can't leave this subject alone. What does a porcelain (?) statue of Michael Jackson and his monkey say to me? What am I supposed to feel about a dead lamb in a tank of formaldehyde? Now, I may not be crazy about say, Girl with a Lamb by Jean-Baptiste Greuze, or Boy in Red with a Lamb by Joshua Reynolds, or even Footed Dish with the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), but I can recognize these works as "art."

I kept hoping that I would find one piece I could stand in front of and just sigh in satisfaction. But no such luck. The LACMA site quotes the London Times calling this exhibit "the distilled essence of contemporary American art." I didn't read the article but I can certainly agree with that statement. Oh, was that supposed to be a compliment?

Personally, I feel we are already very well represented in Los Angeles with MOCA which has three facilities in the city. Do we really need to support yet another venue at LACMA? I am disappointed that millions of dollars were spent on presenting junk food when there are so many gourmet feasts for the eyes that need a home.

So, okay this was the opening installment. Ever the optimist, I have great hopes for the future. But maybe a few people in this city need to read Hans Christian Andersen's "The Emperor's New Clothes."

(Photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Art in the 21st Century
So, I've been viewing the PBS series, Art in the 21st Century on DVD (Oh, NetFlix, how you have changed my life)... just finished the third series. This has been a love/indifferent/hate relationship experience for me. I can't get my head around a lot of what is presented in this series as supposedly "art." A blue plastic bucket from the 99 cent store, I don't think so. What amuses me is how seriously some of these "artists" take themselves. It must be because they have not lived outside their protective bubble. You go to art school, everybody just adores your work, you get commissions from people who don't know any better, and it's a case of the emperor's clothes all over again. What do I know? I don't have a fine arts degree, I'm not an art historian, I don't own a gallery, I'm only a dabbler as an artist. But I don't have to be a murderer to know that murder is wrong! Do I?
Okay, I am jealous, I admit it. If somebody, anybody, had told me art was a respectable profession and I could be involved in it, had given me the tiniest smidgen of encouragement, I would have been on it like you know what on you know what. But that didn't happen. Just the opposite. Yes, I see myself in these videos, working away in my studio, being PAID to have fun and express myself. But instead, I spent my life slogging away for the corporation, under-satisfied, under-appreciated, under-paid. So I am entitled to be bitter, right?
I can't deny it. I am prejudiced.
But then, I don't even have the expectation that art will be beautiful. That is not the point. But shouldn't art, at least, be meaningful? That is a real question. I know the definition of art is obscure. In fact, I've come to the conclusion that art cannot be defined. But it doesn't stop me wrestling with it. The word "Art" must stand for something. Otherwise it is meaningless. But what is it? Well, I suppose it is like trying to define God. It has different meanings to everybody.
However, I also must say that although I disliked or was indifferent to at least 60% of the art shown on the series, I truly embraced a good 40% of it. I can't say that 40% was my cup of tea, but I did understand where the artists were coming from and what they were trying to do. And of that 40% I probably really loved at least half. On the whole, I found the series inspiring and well worth watching. I'm looking forward to series four.
I could not live in this world without art. It is what makes life worthwhile for me. And I'll gladly take the good with the bad than not have art at all.

Mosaic of Memories

I was wondering what to do with all those tiles I painted some years ago when I first started out hand-painting tiles. I recently took a class taught by Carole Free (a wonderful instructor) at UCLA Extension on the art of making mosaics. For a couple of classes I was stuck as I couldn't decide which direction to take as I had so many ideas.
Probably the only thing worse than having no ideas (never my problem in any situation) is having too many (which is why I've never been able to focus my life on any one path). About a year ago I broke up some of my tiles but then didn't know what to do with them, so they sat in a bag on the floor just waiting for the right moment.
Happily, the right moment arrived! I had previously bought a framed mirror which I had intended to use to hold ten 6" tiles, probably with a Ballona Wetlands scene, but I couldn't quite get motivated to paint the tiles.
So everything came together, as these things do.
Now I have to figure out how and where to hang it as it is so heavy and I don't want it crashing down in the next quake.

(Photo and artwork copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Temp Work

Some of us might think of "temp work" as a two-week job in an office grinding away in front of a computer. But not Lori Escalera. Working as a Modannari (Street Painter), Lori's temporary artwork is a source of joy for both artist and viewer.

This is a photo of her Trompe L’Oeil Koi Pond from a street painting event in Mission Viejo, CA.

She doesn't mind that the work is temporary. "It seems to be part of its beauty. People seem so sad to know that after the weekend the art will be gone. Washed away with the street sweepers. But life really isn't about permanence anyway!"

Lori is well-known to Culver City-ites. She is the founder and past president of the Culver City Art Group and her work shows up around the city in surprising places.

You can see more of her latest "temp work" here.

(Photo copyright Lori Escalera)

Dali: Painting & Film

If you think you're done with Salvador Dali exhibits, think again. The current offering at LACMA focuses on his career in film and cinema. Well, folks, this IS Hollywood! Did you know he counted Alfred Hitchcock and Walt Disney among his friends? Most people are probably familiar with his work on Hitchcock's film "Spellbound" for the dream sequences. (Note to self: must rent from NetFlix to see for the umpteenth time.) The oil paintings (in grayscale) that he created for the sets of that movie are wonderful works of art in themselves. In fact, they were my favorite pieces in the show of approximately 100 Dali paintings, sculptures, photographs and films.

One piece not film-related (as far as I know) was the lobster telephone (1936). As my souvenir for the exhibit I couldn't resist buying the plastic lobster for three bucks. It now adorns my bathroom wall, as you can see in the photo, and stares at me as I brush my teeth.

My all time favorite Salvador Dali exhibit was at the Tate Gallery in London in 1980. I still have the poster in the entryway of my home, sadly faded over the years. The image is cropped from the "Swans Reflecting Elephants" painting. I prefer it to the original painting as it focuses on the three swans and elephants, the woman/tree reaching skyward and the boat beached in the background.

Although Dali is not one of my top ten favorite artists, I recognize his importance in the history of art and film and I am awed by his imagination.

Dali: Painting and Film ends January 6, 2008.

(Photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)

A Familiar Place
I was browsing around some of my friends' blogs to see what was new and interesting. I was struck by Katherine Kean's painting of Monterey Cypress Trees at Point Lobos. I feel like I've walked down this same path in dreams or meditations many times. In my interpretation, the end of the road overlooks a green valley with a village nestled in the hillsides. This village is very colorful and full of creativity, music and laughter. (I'm probably channeling "Brigadoon," one of my favorite movies.) I feel comfortable in this village. I settle in there as an artist, living in a small cottage with birds and butterflies enjoying the flowers in my garden. Of course, I live happily ever after, surrounded by friends who are also artists, musicians, poets, philosophers... I'm saving Katherine's painting to my file of favorites so I can look at it from time to time. It's my metaphor for the New Year: walking through unknown territory to find a very familiar place.
http://katherinekean.blogspot.com/2007/12/new-work.html

Murakami and Me I feel fortunate to live in a city with such a multitude of diverse and eclectic "art" venues. I enclose the word in quotes because what does that word mean? I was asking myself that very question while wandering and wondering through the Murakami exhibit at the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA last Friday.
My Webster's New World Dictionary defines art as primarily the "human ability to make things; creativity of man as distinguished from the world of nature." The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy notes, "Whether art can be defined has also been a matter of controversy."
This is not an exhibit I would have chosen to go to on my own. It was GZ's idea and I went along. Sometimes I'm in situations where I am completely surprised at my reaction to artwork I did not expect to like. And vice versa. But in both cases there is an emotion invoked. Some feeling of, oh wow, this is tremendous. Or a visceral disgust. Either way, it affects me on some deep level.
The Murakami exhibit had neither effect. I am left feeling ambivalent. I admit, attempting to find a parking space downtown on a weekday was a mistake. A lot of my energy was used up driving around for an hour. The parking lot across the street, where I usually park, and was clearly signed as MOCA parking, was being used for restaurant parking only. We ended up at Union Station and walked back. I enjoyed the walk, but all that searching while behind the wheel was still whirling around in my head when we arrived at the museum. As driving in traffic is one of my top ten hatreds in life, perhaps it clouded my perception.
To start with, I am really not into cartoon "art." It doesn't appeal to me. I watched several of the videos on the MOCA website before and after viewing the exhibit in the hope I might glean some insight. But I have the same emotional response to and interest in this as I have towards "Hello Kitty." The rack I would pass by in a souvenir store.
As an illustrator, I think Murakami is fabulous. He certainly has a great imagination. And kudos to him for making his ideas into a multi-million dollar world-wide business. As if to emphasize that, our last stop in the exhibit was the Louis Vuitton gallery filled with the signature handbags. Evidently, Murakami teamed up with LV, embellishing the bags with vibrantly-colored motifs. Business seemed to be good. A mother with her own LV original was buying a Murakami bag for her ten-year-old daughter who was visibly excited. Another customer was a twenty-something, thin, artsy-looking girl. Okay, so I don't get this either. My favorite handbag I bought at the JC Penney outlet store for less than $10. And I get a lot of compliments on it. These LV-Murakami bags are in the hundreds (I saw one on ebay for over $600.)
Nevertherless, as an appreciator of art and all its weird and curious paths, I'm glad I saw the exhibit, if only to confirm that this kind of thing is not my cup of tea.

(Photo copyright Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles)