Who Gets To Call it Art, John Constable or Charlton Heston?

I've been watching a lot of 50s and 60s Hollywood movies lately like The Fall of the Roman Empire, Ben-Hur, Spartacus, etc. I never saw those movies when they first came out so I thought it was time to catch up. And, of course, I'll read, watch, hear, or smell anything that has the remotest connection to the Roman Empire, my favorite period of history. So, in that vein, although a millenia away from that time period, I Netflixed The Agony and the Ecstasy starring Charlton Heston and Rex Harrison, two icons of the silver screen. Of course, we are all familiar with Michelangelo's obsession and anguish with painting the Sistine Chapel (the snippet of Irvine Stone's book that this film covers). Nevertheless, it is interesting to see the relationship between Michelangelo and his patron/protagonist Pope Julius II fleshed out. Nothing in the dialogue sounded phony—the words coming out of their mouths were believable as the actual conversations that took place.
I also enjoyed watching the progression of the painting, from the drawings on paper to the transfer of the outlines to the ceiling, to the application of paint. Watching Charlton Heston painstakingly make those brush strokes while sitting and lying in those awkward positions, it is inconceivable that Michelangelo was able to complete the entire ceiling. Although he had assistants to mix the paint and clean up, he made the decision to paint the whole thing himself.
A few years ago I had the good fortune to stand and stare at the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Our tour guide whisked us through at breakneck speed, apparently so she could maximize the time we spent in the Vatican souvenir store, and hence, her commissions on our purchases. So my friend and I decided to return on our own at the end of the two-week tour through Italy. Whereas the first time through we had been more concerned with keeping up with our guide's red flag than soaking anything in, this time we were able to find a place to sit and contemplate the ceiling in all its glory. I wish now I had seen the movie before viewing the ceiling, as it would have been fun to imagine Charlton Heston way up there on the scaffolding, and even more amazing to contemplate Michelangelo's vision. But obviously, that is my 20th century mindset—and perhaps it was, after all, better to see it for its own beauty and not through the eyes of a Hollywood film.
Aside from the painting of the ceiling and the relationship between the painter and the pope, I was struck by the fact that Julius II acted more like a military general than a religious leader. Apparently at that time, the Catholic church was into empire building, spreading Christianity much like the British Empire spreading "civilization" and the US spreading "democracy," by military might. History turns out to be nothing more than a change of clothes and vocabulary after all.
If you enjoy art, or history, or both, The Agony and the Ecstasy is not a bad way to spend a couple of hours.

Two other films I rented recently, both documentaries, are Who Gets to Call it Art? and The English Masters: Constable. The first was the biography of an art critic I never heard of before (not that I am familiar with many art critics), Henry Geldzahler, the very first curator of contemporary art at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Oh, so now I know who to blame! Just kidding, folks. Geldzahler was born independently wealthy—how unfair is that? But it seems he was also born knowing what he wanted to do with his life, and rather than sitting around being rich all day, he went out and did it. He was unusual as an art critic in that he mingled with the artists of the day, had intimate platonic and sexual relationships with some, and both treated and was treated by the artists as an equal. His friends were Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns and others of their ilk. Artistic luminaries such as David Hockney and Frank Stella, also his pals and two of my favorites, contributed interviews to the film along with others.

Geldzahler was one of the first people to consider "pop" art as fine art. While I don't always share his enthusiasm, I understand the contributions this genre has made to the world of art, and I admire him for being true to his convictions, as he genuinely believed in these artists and their work. Geldzahler died of cancer at the age of sixty. The organizer to the end, Hockney relates that Henry was carried downstairs from his sickbed so he could re-arrange a few objets d'art in his living room—he loved and understood the relationships between things. He was then carried back upstairs and died shortly thereafter.

The second documentary about John Constable, the English landscape artist, has a more personal meaning to me. On a trip to England a few years ago, some friends took me to Constable Country in Suffolk (see photo above). I have to admit, I wasn't that interested in Constable's art at the time. But after seeing his paintings and being able to relate them to the part of the country that he mostly painted, I became a fan. Landscape art was not very popular at the time (the early 1800s) as the money was in portraits. But as time went by, his landscapes were recognized as great works of art, leading to his acceptance, rather late, by the Royal Academy. His beloved wife died shortly after delivering their seventh child and Constable spent the rest of his life (he died at 60) dressed in black, painting, and raising his children. He rejected the popular notion that artists should use their imaginations, and instead painted what he saw in nature, and was probably the first plein air painter in oils. His sketches, expressions of what he saw at the moment, had a great influence on the later impressionists. As for me, I thoroughly enjoyed walking through the area that was his inspiration. The temperature was in the mid-eighties on that trip, with humidity and insects to match. As there is a lot of water in the area, I wondered if Constable had to deal with mosquitoes as he sat out in the fields sketching!

(Photo copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Tile Trek

This weekend is the annual warehouse sale at Classic Tile & Mosaic. You don't have to be in the market for a new bathroom in order to enjoy a visit. On Saturday my friend KL brought with her two decorative tiles she had bought previously and was looking for ideas to incorporate them into her back step risers. I was just looking.

As CTM is not normally open to the public this is always an opportunity to see what's happenin' in the world of tile.

I salivated over the many types, materials, designs, and colors of tile. I was imagining various scenarios in which I could use the different kinds of tile on display. I particularly liked this square foot of marbley-travertiney-looking tiles above. They would look great on a wall, maybe in my dining area. They would go well with all the wood in my place.

In the showroom the Malibu Tile collection was showcased. If I had a couple thousand bucks to spare I would have loaded up my car as I thought the sale prices were pretty good. I fell in love with one tile approximately 12" x 8", a scene of Catalina, but then I remembered I had a piece of bisque about that size and maybe I should save my money and paint it myself in my own style.

I ended up buying a 6" x 6" Malibu-style tile of a flying fish. The designer was in the store, Juan Aguirre (hope I spelled his name correctly). He works out the design on the computer, then the design is silk-screened on to the bisque tile, then the tile is hand-painted in the "corda seca" style with the colors separated by raised black lines (I believe a mixture of manganese and linseed). When I visited Sevilla, Spain, some years ago I remember watching an artist painting in this style with some kind of syringe like decorating a birthday cake.
Many things in life I can pass up. But a beautiful tile I cannot resist!
(photos copyright roslyn m wilkins and tile designs copyright respective artists)

Ladies of the Night
Normally I'm an early riser. There is nothing more wonderful than being up and around before dawn when all is quiet and you know most people are still snug in their beds. Standing out on my deck, cup of coffee in hand, watching the sun rise before the sound of traffic arrives out in the street, is an experience not to be missed. So when I tell you that my natural inclination is to be a night crawler, you might go huuuuhhhhh?
All those years working in construction, when I had to be on the job site before dawn, stuck with me. And then having a corporate job for ten years where I had to be on the freeway in the wee hours for the shortest commute. Which has led to the strange lifestyle of still being a night person some of the time and a morning person most of the time. Night time is when I seem to be the most creative, but the early morning is when I am able to get the most work done.
Yesterday I reverted to my night personna and ended up standing on the corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga Blvds, prime "ladies of the night territory," at midnight...
My friend GZ graciously invited me to the Los Angeles Conservancy's "Last Remaining Seats" to see "A Streetcar Named Desire" at the Los Angeles Theatre as my birthday treat.
The evening was quite an adventure. I drove to GZ's home in West Hollywood. From there we walked the few blocks to the bus stop and rode the bus to Hollywood and Highland. From there we took the Red Line train which runs underground all the way to downtown Los Angeles. I don't ride the train very often, but when I do I can't help notice how clean and bright the stations are compared to any of the other cities in the US and the world that I have visited. It's probably an unfair comparison considering our system is so new, but nevertheless, I can't help but feel good about it. It was also nice to see the train was so well used—standing room only.
People reading this from other cities and parts of the world may find it strange that I'm making such a big deal about riding the bus and train. But my friends in LA will understand—LA is the city where we drive everywhere. We don't walk (except for myself and two other people), we don't take taxis (even if we could find one), we don't take buses (aren't those for deranged people who don't have a driver's license?)... and we certainly do not take trains (those things where you have to drive to the station and find a place to park, good luck, so you might as well have driven to your destination in the first place).
Did you lose track of my story already? We arrived in downtown LA and walked along Broadway (a whole other universe I may write about some day) to Clifton's Brookdale, favorite of Huell Howser (who will be featuring the cafeteria again on his KCET broadcast June 27) and the only place to eat when you are in downtown LA, if only because the decor is so unbelievably unbelievable. My friend was concerned about this being my birthday dinner, but with this ambiance, how can you go wrong?
After getting my fill of trout and tapioca, we lined up outside the Los Angeles. From their website: "the last and most extravagant of the ornate movie palaces built on Broadway in downtown Los Angeles between 1911 and 1931. Designed by S. Charles Lee with a French Baroque-inspired décor, its majestic six-story main lobby and 2,000 seat auditorium of carved plaster ornamentation, mirrors, and cove-lit murals recall the glamorous days of 1930s Hollywood."
I led architectural tours for the Conservancy for sixteen years. When I was leading the Broadway Theaters tours, this was probably my favorite. Non-Los Angelenos, and even native Los Angelenos, don't think we have a history. I didn't think so either until I was a Conservancy docent, but Los Angeles has a fascinating background—the downtown theatres being an important part of it.
We found good seats. The proscenium curtain was as stunning as I remembered it. I was somewhat dismayed by the obvious cracks in the plaster around the theatre interior, not there on my last visit many years ago. But it is Magnificent (definitely deserving of the capital "M").
Before the movie, we listened to a talk by Leith Adams, Corporate Archivist at Warner Bros. He showed us how the film was affected by censorship as the producers discovered that the Catholic Church was going to boycott the movie due to the "erotic" nature of the film. We saw one scene as it was originally released in 1951 and as it was restored in the 90s. The 50s audience was not allowed to see Kim Hunter's sultry walk down the stairs towards Marlon Brando. As the chemistry of their relationship was the center of the story, it seems odd that this was omitted. And it certainly was tame by today's standards.
The opening titles of "A Streetcar" came on the screen. The man who had struck up a conversation with me earlier, plopping down in the empty seat next to mine, told me he was only here to hear Leith Adams speak, then he was leaving due to other commitments. Apparently mesmerized by the film, he stayed until almost the end. I understood, as the movie is that spell-binding. I first saw it many, many years ago, one of those films that stays in your brain. I didn't remember all the details, and certainly not the ending, but I did have the relationship between Stella and Stanley in my head in stunning black and white. It would be hard to imagine seeing this film in color.
When you think about it, black and white is a strange phenomenon. All colors mixed together and no colors at all. Why did we start out only being able to take photographs and make films in black and white while our world and our eyesight (for most people) is in full color? Think about it. Okay, another blog.
In the meantime, the acting and photography and sets in "Streetcar" are pretty amazing. It's a very powerful production, even today, almost sixty years later.
I understand why Marlon Brando was the acting icon that he was. I wasn't that familiar with Kim Hunter who did a tremendous job playing Stella. Probably the reason is that, according to IMDb, "Kim was blacklisted in films and TV even though she was never a Communist or even held pro-Communist views. But as a strong believer in civil rights she signed a lot of petitions and was a sponsor of a 1949 World Peace Conference in New York." Terrible, terrible days.
And so, the sojourn home began. The Red Line (packed again at 11:30pm) took us to Hollywood Blvd. And so, there we were, two ladies of the night, standing on the corner of Hollywood and Cahuenga, waiting for the bus close to the bewitching hour... and waiting... and waiting. A taxi pulled up and GZ was ready to hop in but for some reason I felt we needed to wait. Seconds later, like a camel in the desert, our 217 appeared. In my car, driving home with little traffic around, I decided this was the time to be up and awake and on the streets in LA.
Except this morning I missed the sunrise.

Feel the Love with Tile Love
I've really neglected my TileLove website. When I started it several years ago I had all kinds of ambitions for it but other projects got in the way.

So I decided to give it a new look and I created a new section called Serendipity Tiles from my Travels. These are a handful of tiles I happened to find on my trips around the world and around town. I am disappointed in myself that I haven't made more of an effort to collect souvenir tiles. From now on, wherever I go, along with a magnet, I will buy a tile.

My love of all things tile, mosaic, and marble has not diminished. But there is only so much time and effort that I can expend... however, I promise to do better in future, especially taking photos around Culver City and Los Angeles.

Jumping the Gun on Artwalk Culver City
I am happy to see that the City of Culver City will be presenting the fourth annual Artwalk Culver City on Saturday, May 30th. I hope this event continues on into perpetuity. If you have never done it, I recommend participating... at least once. However, I won't be going on the walk.
Last Saturday, May 16, I joined some other members of the Culver City Art Group to jump the gun and do our own version of the walk... sans all the crowds and inherent noise.
We visited about a dozen galleries on La Cienega and Washington Blvds. (For map of the galleries, click here.) There were four of us, which was the perfect number to move relatively quickly but also enjoy a smattering of differing opinions.
As always with art, some of it did not appeal to me at all (this is art?), some crept up on me after looking at it for a while, some I fell in love with immediately, some I felt the need to figure out or investigate, some I was disgusted with, some was sweet and whimsical... so many diverse emotions and reactions.
After approximately three hours of looking, feeling, and walking, I think we were all drained both psychically and physically. Over the week since, I have been hit by images and sensations relating to the artwork at odd times. Some pieces I would like to inspect again, some I wonder why those particular pieces bother me so much. It would be interesting, as an exercise, to retrace my footsteps and discover whether or not I have the same feelings the second time. But the galleries have moved on with new exhibits and I wouldn't make the time anyway.
Viewing art is always so much more pleasant when there are few other people around. Although I like to support friends and be up on what is new, I am beginning to dislike artist receptions and gallery openings. In fact, I don't enjoy anything anymore where there are crowds of people.
For example, viewing the Pompeii exhibit at LACMA on a members' only day saw an acceptable number of people in attendance. I wonder what it will be like the next time I go. I remember having to push and shove my way through the Tut exhibit several years ago. I was able to see it three times, and each time it was worse. Once there was even a screaming baby following us from room to room!
So, while I hope the Artwalk Culver City will be as well-attended as ever, that Culver City will make lots of money from it, and that thousands of people will enjoy it, I'm glad I won't have to be there jostling for position in front of a painting for a few seconds before somebody's elbow intrudes on my view. Or, probably, I am missing the point, and actually viewing the art isn't the purpose at all!

A Craving for Fish Tacos

To help celebrate its tenth anniversary, I visited the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach on Tuesday. Yes, it has taken me that long. While I have visited the Monterey Aquarium twice, I never got around to visiting the one in my own back yard. And that was only because KL mentioned she was going and I decided to tag along.

If you have never been, all I can say is "GO!" I have painted quite a few fish/ocean/undersea ceramic tiles, most of which were sea creatures from my imagination. But who needs imagination when you are faced with the real thing? The fish are beautiful and unbelievable beyond any attempt to paint something fanciful.

Taking photos was not easy: through glass, underwater, changing light, and those sea creatures will not sit still for a portrait—not even the sea anemones. But halfway though our day my memory card filled up as I realized I had taken 200 photos! Yes, I could have zapped some previous images but my practice is to fill up a one gig card, dump the whole thing on to a CD and start over. Maybe it was just as well, as sometimes the camera can get in the way of the immediate experience when you are seeing everything through the camera lens and not your own eyeballs. None of the photos I took are spectacular, but they are an impression of a moment.

Although all the different kinds of fish were enjoyable, I loved the coral reefs and ocean plants just as much. The myriad shapes, colors and forms were amazing. I felt as though I was in a moving art gallery. Why do we mere mortals attempt to create art when Alice, Goddess of Nature, will always win the prizes?

I was impressed with the aquarium overall—a good mix of inside and outside exhibits. I enjoyed discovering diverse regions of the oceans such as Southern California and Baja, the North Pacific, and the coral reefs of the Pacific. Outside it was fun to see the seals at mealtime and to touch the silky, velvet stingrays as they swam past.

Almost immediately I developed a craving for a fish sandwich! At lunchtime we walked over to restaurant row where I devoured two wonderful fish tacos at Islands. As we walked back to the aquarium we decided on an impulse to take the 45-minute harbor cruise. Out on the water with salt spray and wind in my face all my cares and worries drifted away.

We finished up the afternoon back at the aquarium. It was much quieter as the bus loads of school kids had left. Of course, I am glad that young students are able to visit a facility that teaches about the importance of the oceans. Hopefully there are some budding marine biologists among them.

On the way out we revisited the Lorikeet Forest. Over 100 of these noisy but vividly-colored birds live there. One of them took a fancy to my straw sun visor and when I attempted to put him back on his branch he became very upset and took a good bite out of two of my fingers!

As we drove home on the freeway I felt as if I had taken a vacation to another country. I have images of the beautiful sea creatures swimming around in my head and some ideas for more tiles.

Now I feel like having a tuna sandwich for lunch...

(photos copyright roslyn m wilkins)

Mobile Art, BabyCountry Squire station wagon, my favorite of the show.

You want mobile art, baby? Alexander Calder can't hold a spark plug to the Sixth Annual Cruisin' Back to Culver City Car Show held on May 9th, 2009. This show is located just two blocks from my house but until last year I always had plans out of town on that day. Last year I had just enough time to run through like a whirlwind. So this year I planned ahead. As it was my birthday (okay, you missed it again but I don't hold grudges—for more than a few years) I decided to go, on my own, if necessary. But KJ to the rescue!

It was a typical balmy Culver City day, the same kind of day, I'm sure when Harry Culver met up with Thomas Ince filming his western on the shores of Ballona Creek and thereby started the whole film industry in Culver City—but I digress.

1932 Roadster, pure vintage

We walked up to the car show about eleven. By then there was no parking on my street and hordes of people were walking from every direction. Now, I am NOT a car person by any definition of that word. To me a car is merely transportation (with the exception of my beloved Subaru who I think of as more of a chariot than an automobile) but there is something about the love people have for their vintage vehicles that I can appreciate.

Elvira was supposed to be the Mistress of Ceremonies but by the time we left in the afternoon she still had not shown her face—well, daylight is tough on vampires so I can't be too hard on her.

The show consisted of over 400 cars. It was fun to see the old Keystone-cops style Culver City police car and the new SUV I assume the CCPD had painted on non-city time (or as KJ noted, that's where my tax dollars are going!).

This was the first time I had been inside the Culver City Fire Station—and if you've heard rumours about the CCFD they are all true—the hunkiest crew anywhere! KJ wanted to know if they had a calendar for sale—now there's a way to make up the $6 million city deficit pretty darn fast...

Rear end of the Watidiz, wildest of the show.

My favorite car of the show was the red Country Squire station wagon at the top of the blog. It looks a lot like my Outback and I could see myself driving around town in that car. The wildest car hands down, inside and out, was the Watidiz.

But if I was a vintage purist I suppose I would have to pick the 1932 Roadster as best of show. Well, not really. I loved them all, for a non-car person, that is.

So now I've really "done" the Culver City Car Show and next year I don't have to feel so guilty about having other plans. But I may just find myself sauntering up there anyway...

And another kind of art—food presentation—was to be found at Akasha where AB took me for my birthday dinner that evening. Although the food tasted divine (we ate tapas style) we decided the artful presentation was part of the pleasure of eating there. Ya know, art is everywhere if you only stay on the alert for it—which I definitely enjoy doing.

(photos are copyright roslyn m wilkins)