Money Walks... Sort Of.

Alberto Giacometti's 1960 sculpture of a 6-foot-tall, bronze slim, slim man, "Walking Man I," sold for 65 million pounds ($104.3 million) in a Sotheby's auction, shattering the record price for a work of art at auction. Perhaps a sign of a potential resurgent of art collecting? The bidding began at 12 million than quickly escalate, with roughly 10 bidders buying for the sculpture; the purchaser remains anonymous.

The 6-foot-tall bronze depicts a wiry man in mid-stride, his right foot jutting forward, his head erect and and his arms hanging at his side. Giacometti, a modern master known for his haunting sculptures of blank-faced Everymen, cast the work 60 years ago as part of a commission to plant several of his bronze figures on Chase Manhattan Bank's Pine Street plaza in New York City. The artist famously struggled with the project, eventually quitting it but casting stand-alone versions of several of the planned figures, including "Walking Man I." The price breaks the existing $104.2 million auction record, set six years ago at Sotheby's, for Pablo Picasso's 1906 portrait "Boy With a Pipe," whose buyer remains unknown.

Just who the hell was this artist whose work essentially shattered the economic cloud that of budget cuts and recessions? Alberto Giacometti,(b. Oct. 10, 1901, Borgonovo, Switz.—d. Jan. 11, 1966, Chur), Swiss sculptor and painter, best known for his attenuated sculptures of solitary figures. Notable works include “Head of a Man on a Rod” (1947) and “Composition with Seven Figures and a Head (The Forest)” (1950). His work has been compared to that of the existentialists in literature (ooohhhh happy dance happy dance); in 1963 Giacometti designed the set for Samuel Beckett’s drama Waiting for Godot.

So how do I feel about a work of art being sold for such an absurd amount of coin? I have yet to decide. I think I will forever be doomed to be vulnerable inside the complicated justifications of art and its value; I will save myself for this argument at a later date. However, I will leave you with my semi-developed thesis: Art is often taken as a primary example of something with intrinsic (rather than just instrumental) value. But what’s so valuable about ‘intrinsic’ value?

A Philosophy, an Umbrella and a Glass of Insight

I often like to fool myself into thinking I am fair person when it comes to judging a painting’s artistic merit. When I observe a work of art I cross my arms, perhaps touch my chin with hand, node my head and tilt it slightly to the right; it is as if I am in a deep reverie trying to come to a conclusion regarding the piece’s meaning. Truthfully, I had a tendency to exaggerate my interest in artwork that was not in my selected canon of masterpieces; contemporary and surreal art being the latter. The guilt was there. I wish I could have been more open to artwork that is more or less obscure in its purpose, however, it was difficult for me to find beauty in a piece of art that seemed to have required no effort or time. My brother has an entirely different perspective on contemporary art. His apartment is flooded with simple pieces that looked as if they were plucked from a child’s coloring sketch book. It was a simple gift from him that changed my perspective on an art movement that I once neglected as being period of time where artistic creativity was entirely absent.

It was a Saturday morning when my brother showed up at my door barring a present. Obviously a poster, it was rolled up tucked beneath his arm and I knew it was going to be a gift of irony or utter disappointment. We exchanged some mundane words and he handed me the poster with an unusual smirk on his face and left. The poster was a print of a painting I have seen before, and scolded. The piece was, simply, a portrait of a suspending umbrella in mid air with a glass of water balancing on top of it. That was it. I shook my head in disbelief that this piece had been mass produced due to its popularity. What was I to do with this? I most certainly did not want to post it next to my Klimt and Mucha prints that decorated my home. I had to find out who this artist was and what exactly was so appealing about such a simplistic piece of art.

A quick Encyclopedia search revealed the piece to be a painting by Rene Margritte titled Les Vacances De Hegel (Hegel’s Holiday, 1957). Margritte was a Belgium painter, whose work became popular during the surrealist movement in the early 1920’s post World War I. I read on. Surrealism was an artistic movement that challenged the observer’s preconditioned perception on reality, essentially forcing one to become more in touch with his or her surroundings. His work was obviously popular; a simple Google search produced millions of different images and interpretations of his work. Paintings of a man with a green apple placed awkwardly in front of his face, business men raining over a crowded city, illusions of feet as a pair of boots, the infamous umbrella and glass of water, all riddled my computer screen. His technique was there; his combination of realism with abstract images was intriguing, yet, I was still skeptical. It seemed Margritte’s art centralized around shocking imagery. I poured over articles and online books that described his method. Hopkins, the author of Dada and Surrealism: A Very Short Introduction, explains the visual appeal of his pieces was of upmost importance rather than having any rebellious significance. The paintings were simple, borderline dull, but as I read on it appeared there was much more to his technique. Hegel’s Holiday became much more interesting than I had initially anticipated.

The title alone was enough for me to continue my internet research. Georg Wilhelm Friedrick Hegel, a 19th century German philosopher, was known for his idealistic account on the concept of reality, so the contrast between the two objects must have been essential to the pieces fluidity. In Hegel’s Holiday, the relationship I observed between the umbrella and glass of water initially appeared to be obscure, besides the obvious fact they both are commonly associated with water. Yet, it is this association that turned the piece into an entirely cohesive idea. The objects were acting as an illusion. An article by Randa Dudnick titled, Visible Poetry: Metaphor and Metonymy in the Paintings of Rene Magritte, describes the umbrella and glass of water as mere inventions of human kind to control water - the glass we use to control the quantity of water and the umbrella to keep from pouring down on us.

Hegel is on holiday, neglecting the exhaustion of logical demonstration in order to devote himself to objects that replicate, and entertain, the reality of nature. Was it is this type of illusion a Surrealist was trying to obtain within their art? By manipulating a realistic technique, were they able to derail reality? How could I have been so vain to be oblivious to such a philosophical interpretation of trivial objects? I assume Magritte, along with the other Surrealist painters, resented art fans such as myself; myself being one of the unfortunate people who demanded a great allegorical implication in a piece of art. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed over my prejudices.

Although the piece appeared to consist of little thought and imagination, its historical creation painted a different perspective for me. As my mission for information persisted I came across a published letter from Magritte regarding his quest for perfection in the piece:
My latest painting began with the question: how to show a glass of water in a painting in such a way that it would not be indifferent? Or whimsical, or arbitrary, or weak – but, allow us to use the word, with genius? (Without false modesty.) I began by drawing many glasses of water, always with a linear mark on the glass. This line, after the 100th or 150th drawing, widened out and finally took the form of an umbrella. The umbrella was then put into the glass, and to conclude, underneath the glass. Which is the exact solution to the initial question: how to paint a glass of water with genius.
I was shocked at the extreme preparation taken to construct a seemingly effortless piece. My prejudices, regarding surrealist paintings to be effortless, were slowly losing its merit. Hegel’s Holiday was now unearthing a subtle, yet lucid rhetoric, which was hidden within simplistic brush strokes. It no longer lacked any sort of inventive preparation.

It was this analysis of Hegel’s Holiday, two objects with opposing functions must have been Magritte’s intention. The response one would give, such as myself, to such a basic objective is exactly what Magritte must have envisioned. We may respond in laughter, confusion or misunderstanding, but all of these emotions are commonly used connotations to describe reality. It is this strange relationship between an umbrella and glass of water that would unearth an uncomfortable response. I realized I was one of those pretentious art critiques I once criticized. I was solely basing my judgment on presupposed ideas and interpretations on what art is, and I was not allowing my existence in reality to let the art speak for itself.

I felt utterly prudish, lacking any sort of creative thought; this was especially depressing for one who tries to exercise her own unique creativity in this conventional world- whether or not she is successful in doing so. I realized my acquired taste in art was molded by the very intrusive world I was trying to ignore. The standards of what is art set forth by our society had, in deed, impacted me more than I was wanting: real art looks like this or that, real art consists of these certain attributes and real art must fall under these credentials. I was ignoring the intrinsic connection between personal creativity and interpretation. I was not welcoming art as a spiritual quest rather than just a visual one. The break between classical artists, and their conceptual concerns, and the wider, popular, public was blurred by my lack of openness. Perhaps it was this openness that modern artists themselves where searching for, or helping others find, in their obscure pieces.
My online research concluded that Margritte’s work was a reflection of the collective consciousness of his era; there was a growing alienation between the artist and the public’s perception on distinguished art. It appeared he was interrogating his own being into the painting rather than giving the public an image of its contemporary expectations. Magritte was metaphorically painting images of opposing objects to display their true duality with one another. Like any other classical artist, he was communicating a vision through a painting.

Appreciating abstract and modern art is still problematic for me; there are far too many current artists whose expert skills are overshadowed by the goofballs next door who pile a bunch of garbage together in a trash can and call it art. However, I’ve come to realize modern art is entirely theoretical; modern art cannot separate itself from theoretical aspects, the appreciation and pleasure of art just like the classics. I couldn’t help but feel defeated in my, supposed, rejection of contemporary society that instills its standards upon civilization in the most invasive sense- I was one of its victims. The poster remained curled up on my desk and the need to throw it away in pride was imminent. However, it was my desire to transform my judgment that compelled me to take the print and post it near my bookcase- a bookcase filled with art criticism manuals and coffee table books that had tainted my opinions on aesthetics. Acting as an ironic reminder of my naivety, the poster of an umbrella and glass of water reflected an empowered sense of personal perception, in all of its simplicity.

An Artist and A Movement: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and Art Nouveau

The Art Nouveau style has always captivated me with its elegant charm and whimsical beauty. The architecture, painting and sculptures in the style always have this sinuous, elongated and curvy lines that appear to imitate the imperfections of nature; the pieces are always uniquely disproportioned and asymmetrical to simulate the flawed beauty of the natural world. Architecture, furniture and jewelry is decorated with stylish flowers, leaves, roots, buds and seedpods are carelessly, yet intentionally, laced throughout the work. Art Nouveau paintings celebrate the female form by presenting them in a pre-Raphaelite pose with long, flowing hair and a curvy, yet delicate, silhouette. Exotic woods, marquetry, iridescent glass, silver and semi-precious stones adorn pieces to create the overly dramatic Art Nouveau style; all so Parisian, obviously, and just lovely in every way.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec was an artist of the late 19th century whose art captured the Parisian nightlife of the period. His work was a true embodiment of Art Nouveau; an international style of decoration characterized by writhing plant forms and an opposition to the historicism which engulfed the early 19th century. His emphasis on artistic unity exemplified this new style of art where the illustrations were formed through eccentric fantasy and mystic themes.

Toulouse-Lautrec had unfortunate circumstances. Born in 1864 in Albi, France to an aristocrat family, Henri grew up amongst luxury. However grandeur the prospect of his future appeared, it was two broken legs by the age of 14 which would change the circumstances of Henri’s life forever; his bones failed to heal properly and by adulthood his legs stopped growing causing him to be abnormally short in stature. Deprived of any kind of normal live Toulouse-Lautrec lived wholly for his art. His works encompassed the heart of the cabaret entertainment and bohemian life in the Montmartre section of Paris.

Say Whaaaa Wednesday: Painter, Baker, Candy Art Maker!

My wonderful, long time friend is currently interning in New York at The Museum of Modern Art (Much lurrrvvee Jory, you’re helping me climb back into a realm of inspiration!). She let me know of a delectably sweet artist who has an interesting artistic palette: creating paintings, sculptures that portray landscapes of cake, candy, fudge and other delicious confections.

Will Cotton is a New York based painter who not only paints such sugary swamps that occasionally include nude women but also sculpts gumdrop sculptures with slices of ganache cake and other sweets. Beautiful curvaceous women lay atop mountains of scooped ice cream that evaporates into blues and pink clouds. The women’s serene gaze embodies the blissful vision of the Renaissance artists who strived to immortalize a foreboding theme of heaven and gluttony.

I find Cotton’s work to be extremely intriguing and lack any preventative unfettering for the female body that the modern feminist may conjure up; I can imagine they believe he is equating the female body to the seductive and, commonly deemed voracious, allure of candy which I boldly refute (hey, that would be a good essay!). His work does bear the burden of seduction but it is masterfully complex and is delivered in a clean and reverential way that truly portrays his oil painting technique. Cotton’s paintings are remarkable in his ability to capture the Renaissance technique of foreshortening to create a sort of soft depth while revealing a uniquely modern concept.
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Say Whaaaa Wednesday... Beauty in Flames

I must go to this festival immediately; there is nothing more gratifying than seeing giant flames engulf a vacant sky and dancing around it like the free loving hippie we all claim we don’t want to be. Burning Man is a yearly event held in northern Nevada in the Black Rock Desert where thousands of people celebrate the summer solstice by burning strikingly large wooden sculptures. The ritual began in San Francisco in 1986 when a man burned a 9 foot wooden man, along with a wooden dog, on Baker Beach as a “spontaneous act of self expression.” Eventually this idea leaked into the Black Rock Dessert and became an annual event where thousands of people would showcase spectacular pieces of wooden sculpture.

This is where the innate hippie inside of me really gets excited and wants to rip off her clothes and dance around a bon fire naked to the music of The Grateful Dead on acid; yes, you read that correctly. I love the idea of “outsider art” coming together to create a visionary retreat of inspiration and creativity. Yah it’s kind of hippie-ish and I am sure there are some far out characters there who are still advocating issues that the contemporary world has long outgrown, but to all their own right? It’s those people who are great to hang out with because they lack the pretentious attitude of most of us modern people.

How marvelous it must feel to stand amongst a burning sculpture amidst an anxiously intoxicated crowd in a desolate dessert where the spirit of art and freedom are lucidly one…. Wow I need to stop now, the hippie lingo is starting to come up.

(Ecstacy by Dan Das Mann and Karen Cusolito 2009; Fire Of Fires by David Umlas, Marrilee Ratcliffe, Community Art Makers 2009)

Say Whaaaa Wednesday... Naked bodies, Two Dimension and $100 Million Dollars

Don’t you love when people who are dead are still racking in the dough? Last night, Pablo Picasso’s painting Nude, Green Leaves and Bust set a world record when it sold at a New York auction for $106.5 million dollars, making it the most expensive piece of art ever sold in history.

The portrait was painted in 1932 and depicts the artist’s lover, Marie-Therese Walter, a woman 30 years his junior and mother of his daughter. Although the picture appears to be serene with the nude Marie-Therese reclining in a wakeful bliss, the relationship between Picasso and Walter was anything but idyllic. Picasso’s rapport with this younger woman has been said to be fueled by secretiveness, taboos and limitless sexual boundaries. Marie-Therese was believed to be seen as an obedient object to Picasso. Their relationship continued throughout the years but took a toll on both Walter and Picasso. In 1973, just days before Picasso’s death, Marie-Therese hung herself in her garbage.

Now enough on the pathetic fallacy conjured up by art critics. Cubism is really appealing to me; I find its two dimensional surface of certain objects and sceneries to be quite successful in rejecting the traditional techniques of perspective and modeling. I always thought pure imitation was rather mundane, almost too similar to a photograph or of a naturalistic scene I am able to envision without creative thought. Cubists present a new reality free from the constraints of customary texture, space and color. However I do understand the critique of such contemporary art; it does have less merit in the technical aspect of painting, but that raises the question of what type of credentials are assigned to a piece of art that makes it art. Should a painting that took two years to create be more significant than one that took fifteen minutes? I am not sure. I enjoy looking at either one and don’t feel I need to create certain standards based on the technical merit and time it took to create the piece. One thing is for certain; I’d paint anything and everything anyone would want if I knew it would be sold for over $100 million dollars.

F*ck it Friday… So let us put Saddam Hussein in a shark tank.

It sounds rather lucrative doesn’t it? Not Really. I am always fascinated with obscure art pieces that reach beyond the realm of conventional creative outlets most artists bashfully tolerate. There are some vehicles of inspiration certain artists abuse that I do not particularly understand, nor care for, but I always appreciate a good jaw drop with a side of belly bruising laughter.

The controversial Czech Republic artist David Cerny enjoyed the public’s disturbed reaction when his sculpture entitled “Shark” was unveiled. The piece is a model of the former Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein, hands tied behind his back, suspended in a glass box filled with formaldehyde. It is, obviously, an extremely political piece that would, unsurprisingly, provoke uproar in the public and art community over cultural sensitivity. Cerny claims the art piece was to communicate a personal philosophy of his: “impossibility of death in the minds of something living.”

I am sure you have already guessed it has been banned in several countries and Cerny is very humble about respecting the opinion of the people. Wow, an artist who is not a jack ass and controversial?! Sounds lucrative… no, not really, I just enjoy saying that word today.

Say Whaaaa Wednesday... The Beauty in Elephant Dung

I have noticed my posts have been flooded with controversies in art; the absurd never fails to spark my imagination and reestablishing my conception on the glorious freedom of artistic expression. I recently came across a British painter named Chris Ofili whose artwork is best known for its rich, complicated and very much scintillating images of Religious figures adorn with glitter and, here’s the interesting medium, elephant shit. His work is less painting than painting like objects, and is fascinating to look at.

Ofili’s Nigerian heritage strongly influences his paintings and it was one particular piece titled The Holy Virgin Mary that involved a lawsuit, former mayor of NYC Rudy Giuliani and a mob of angry Christians. The painting was exhibited in 1999 at the Brooklyn Museum of Art as apart of the “Sensation” exhibit where young British Artists toured their work from Berlin to NY. The painting is a black African Mary surrounded by female genitalia cut from porno magazines, and elephant dung. The shit was formed in shapes to resemble the cherubim and seraphim; commonly seen in images of the Immaculate Conception. Giuliani threatened the museum to take the offensive piece down or he’d withhold the city’s funding towards the exhibit and museum itself; he overtly labeled the piece to be “disgusting” and “sick”.

I think the painting is lovely. Ofili’s use of bold color, shades of purple and blue look the way our souls feel when trying to understand our own imagination in the dark. It revels in early European Modernism and I can’t help but hear the voices of Harlem Renaissance poet’s whose low voices mumble the absurd within the dark, smoky confines of a underground jazz club. There is A LOT of art out there that does not deserve any kind of recognition as being labeled “art”. However, I find Ofili is venturing into a world where there exists a hierarchal struggle between the method and the artistic merit their work embodies. Elephant shit or not, The Holy Virgin Mary is strikingly beautiful and does make a bold statement, I find, that lacks any sort of insulting connotations besides the fact that animal feces tend to stink, rather bad. Could he have used a different medium to create such a piece? Absolutely. Though, what kind of fun would we have discussing a painting that was created strictly using traditional methods; talking about elephant dung is a lot more enchanting, no?

Say Whaaaa Wednesday... The Thorn in the Ass of Real Art

I do not believe this type of exhibit is profound in anyway, rather, I see it representing an aspect of art that appears to be surfacing more and more; through mundane and dull inspiration comes a supposed creative outlet that in turn becomes labeled “art.”

Gregor Schneider, a German artist, created an exhibit in which already-dying volunteers were to lay throughout an art gallery, in the view of uneasy onlookers who were anticipating nothing more than an unusual physical image of death’s beauty. The entire idea is creative, controversial (we all love controversy) and highly intriguing, however, I can’t help but see this exhibit as a representative for a new wave of art that appears to capture an essence that requires no capturing; death is nature’s doing, why should the artist gain recognition for a subject matter that, not only has been way over analyzed, but that is impervious to any of our own hands?

I hate to bash artists, I do admire their attempts at creative innovations, yet I can’t help but see this as a lazy path from a dull mind; a mind that is out of distinctive material to create art that is, in itself, it’s own essence. I suppose my view on such radical contemporary art is similar to my perception on the cinema of the 21st century where novels and comic books, old films and more are recreated. There seems to be no originality anymore.

I tend to believe I am one of those people who are fascinated with death. I find it utterly romantic in a way. There is something about the notion of nothingness… death is simply not anything; it is the absence of presence, a place in time where there is no return, where the howling of a wind blows right through its very spirit and never returns. Tell me how is that not dreamy? Look, I don’t want to get off track here; art is art, whether it is controversial or not and I understand and appreciate that very concept. If people find this type of contemporary uninspired art to be “art” so be it. I must however make a bold statement regarding such pieces: The only thing an artist such as Schneider relies upon is the transparency of his naive audience who will applaud such thoughtless expression in the name of art when he is simply reinstating an age old concept of the inevitable demise of humankind. It’s been said and done before.

My Dear Christian Lacroix

Christian Lacroix has always been a designer who I admire. His devoted passion and love towards a fantasia of haute couture clothing is extravagant. It is no wonder there was a sullen ambiance in Paris during its 2010 Fashion Week; Lacroix recently declared insolvency, the first step before bankruptcy, due to the downturn of the luxury market which resulted in him backing out of the haute couture showcasing. The situation is still unclear but it has left one of the greatest creators out on his own trying to reclaim the brand. For Fall 2009 the embellished material, extravagantly hued with rich blues were extremely concentrated in shape and wearable. Perhaps this was Lacroix way of reaching out to a breed of women who are constrained by financial issues; however, as a mastery of his art he gilded a beautifully crafted wedding gown, a vision of a saint in a church painting.

It’s unfortunate such a brilliant artist has struggled to maintain a label that is utterly luminous in its creativity. His distinct detailing is layered with delights and surprises. He is comfortable in which all the imagination he's developed seems to flow effortlessly out of his fingertips. What a shame the appreciation for extravagant artistic expression isn’t as wholly accepted as Kim Kardashian’s pathetic attempt at constructing a reputable clothing line…

Say Whaaaa? Wednesday... Oh How we Love the Delirium in Animal Rights Activists

I’d like to start off with a poll; Raise your right hand if you like animals, now raise your left hand if you like diamonds? Well, those of you who have both hands up may love Angela Singer’s interpretation of contemporary taxidermy… or maybe not. As an artist from New Zealand, and ironically a animal activist, Singer’s artwork is rather controversial and rather incongruous with her “morals” if you ask me.

As a fur aficionado, I see the beauty in dead animals; I would kill a litter of baby foxes with my own hands if it means me getting a nice shawl. What strikes me odd is that an animal rights activist uses a canvas of dead carcasses encrusted with diamonds and paint. Does anyone else see the hilarious paradox in this type of creativity? I see the splendor beneath animals and their guts and I think Singer’s work is absolutely stunning. I love what she is doing and would love it even more if she wasn’t one of those terrorists in animal advocate groups. However, this is the very issue I am having, what makes me go “Say Whaaaa?” is the fact that she is apart of that self righteous class of PETA bourgeoisie whose wholly against vivisection or dissection of live animals for the advancement of human improvement.

This all kind of reminds me of that old American saying, “A black man can tell black jokes.” Animal activists advocating animal liberation can dissect animals as long as it doesn’t impose on their own morals and lifestyle. Oh my, the typical animal rights advocate sure can justify their outrageous lifestyle and delirious behavior. How strange are the lot of us…

F*ck It Friday... Flippin' the Bird to the Conventional

I have never been to Asia, however, the fashion of Japan and China has always fascinated me. Asian culture has this remarkable ability to stretch beyond the conventions of fashion and create something truly magical. It seems even their punk street style has a delicate technique that is illustrated through cut up leather, sky high Mohawks, purple Dock Martins, safety pin vests and eccentric make up. Whether it is only one with a “fashion eye” who can detect, or appreciate for that matter, this tactful and creative collection of brilliant entities that drift amongst the streets like real life animation, no one can deny their distinctive style!

So this weeks “F*ck It Friday” is in recognition to China’s Fashion Week 2010 held in Beijing. The beautifully peculiar clothes with unusually attractive head pieces made me want to get the “f*ck its” when it comes to taking risks with fashion! Some days I just want to go to school wearing a top hat and rings on every finger; after viewing these photos, I think I may just do so!

(Photos from left to right: TONI&GUY Trends Release; Model poses for a cosmetic show; Qi Gang- all lines showcased in Beijing at China's Fashion Week S/S Collection 2010)