Still thinking about the fabulous Georgia O’Keeffe show I saw last Sunday at the Peabody Essex Museum, in Salem, MA. “Georgia O’Keeffe: Art, Image, Style,”  is a retrospective going back to O’Keeffe’s high school years. It continues through her experiences in Chicago, Texas, New York City, Lake George, New Mexico and beyond her lifetime, to the present day.

The exhibit  features not only her art work through those years, but also year-book entries, photos of and by O’Keeffe, video of a conversation in which she says she was lucky that her work coincided with her time and was liked but that her paintings might have been better if she’d remained unknown.

Central to the show is the distinctive clothing she designed and wore–presented in relation to her paintings.

The show includes video from a 2018 fashion show in which models prance on a runway. wearing styles like those originated by OKeefe.(immediately below)

My friend E remarked on O’Keeffe as a feminist force. But while O’Keeffe was a ground breaker in the art world and is sometimes referred to as “the mother of abstract art,” a PEM commentary points out that she insisted throughout her career that she did not want to be considered a female artist…but simply an artist.

I did wonder what would have happened if famed New York City photographer Alfred Stieglitz, 30 years her senior, had not seen her work when she was a young artist and championed it–and her; if she had not moved to New York and married him; if he had not taken and shown photograph after photograph of her; if she had not had the safety and freedom afforded by Stieglitz and his family wealth in NY and Lake George. But an example of the early commercial artwork (left), on which she embarked to supplement her Texas teaching salary, makes me certain she would have become renowned on her own.

While I love most of O’Keeffe’s  paintings, I’m less enamoured of her fashion, which the show presents as an element of her artwork.  In my view, it seems to have become more traditionally masculine–with chunky-looking  black suits ordered from a men’s clothier in Hong Kong– as she moved on in life.(Or, as women’s societal roles changed?) 

I’ve  seen quite a few O’Keeffe shows over the years..several in New York, and one in Glens Falls, NY, near Lake George– but this is the first I’ve seen that incorporates and integrates so many aspects of her life.

I would have liked to have been told a bit more about O’Keeffe’s childhood and family and about her relationship with Stieglitz, but then, there’s Wikipedia for that. All in all, I found the exhibit of an artist who worked well into her 90s enriching and inspirational.

Should also mention the wonderful docent and ceramic artist/jewelry maker who told me that the unlabelled photos were taken by O’Keefe and encouraged me and other visitors to share our comments and photos on Instagram.  Also, btw, the PEM  cafeteria serves the richest, thickest hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted.

Georgia O’Keefe, Art, Image, Style will be at the Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, MA, Dec. 1-April 1, 2018. 

–Anita Harris
Anita M. Harris is a writer, photographer and communications consultant  basedin Cambridge, MA. She is the author of Ithaca Diaries, Coming of Age in the 1960s, and Broken Patterns: Professional Women and the Quest for a New Feminine Identity.

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, a PR and content marketing firm based in Kendall Square. :

I found Ani Kasten’s latest ceramics exhibit, which opened yesterday at the Lacoste Gallery in Concord, MA, inspirational.  The work, comprised mainly of vessels of irregular shapes and sizes,  is  delicate, with seams sometimes held together with thin wires, and replete with beautiful, unexpected embellishments, cracks. colors and patterns that make the viewer stop to contemplate.

Entitled From the Ruins, the show focuses on vessels and sculptures that are “deconstructed…  ‘barely holding together’, ‘coming apart at the seams’, and searching for a cohesive beauty in their tenuous state of existence,”  according to the exhibit writeup.

I mentioned to Kasten that her work “spoke” to me, especially because too many of my close friends and family members have passed away, recently, and that I’m working on writing and photography projects that I hope will help bring shape, beauty, meaning and new life to past experiences.  Kasten responded that she, too, has gone through several major losses, which in part, inspired her current work.

Ani Kasten

 “Investigating the materiality of the clay is the foundation and focal point for all of my sculptural vessels. I create wheel-thrown and hand-built forms in families, and these sculptural groupings explore the meeting point between natural and man-made worlds. The vessels take their influence from plants, water, rocks and clay, as well as from architecture, industry and machinery.

“They investigate the nature of change, the compiling of memory, and a feeling of profound loss– the recognition of temporal beauty bound inextricably with grief. The pieces are like remnants, a landscape of objects that remain after some kind of significant change, grave markers, or organic matter that has survived a great fire.

According to a gallery publication, Kasten was drawn to the medium of clay as an apprentice to British ceramist Rupert Spira, Then she headed a stoneware making facility in Nepal for four years before returning to the USA to set up ceramic studios in California, Maryland and most recently Minnesota.  She has exhibited her work nationally and internationally with works in the permanent collections of the Racine Art Museum, Wisconsin; the Weisman Art Museum Minneapolis MN; and the Sana’ a Collection, the US Embassy, Sana’ a Yemen.

Yesterday, I was privileged to view a remarkable documentary film shown at the Griffin Museum of Photography. As a  photographer/artist and writer, I sometimes wonder if there’s a point to all of the time and energy I put into my crafts. The film, called “A Single Frame,” produced by  Austin businessman and filmmaker Jeff Bowden, makes clear that one can never know the tremendous impact a work of art may ultimately have.

While on a family  trip to Dubrovnik in 2007, Bowden’s daughter  suggests going to an exhibit showing the work of female war photographers. Bowden is much taken with a photograph of a refugee boy taken during the war in Kosovo by  a young French photographer, Alexandra Boulat.

Driven by the  haunting image, Bowden sets out to find the child–who, if still alive would have been in his twenties or early thirties. Bowden’s search takes him from Texas to Paris, where he learns that Boulat passed away due to natural causes not long after the war. He tracks down a group of photographers she worked with, and, in conversations with them and others who were impacted by the war, learns of the devastation it caused, and of the post-war culture of the Balkans. Joining  forces with an experienced war-time fixer, he embarks on a search for the boy.

Rather than give away the outcome of the search, I’ll just say that  A Single Frame, released in 2015,   humanizes and educates distant audiences about the origins and impacts of the cruel war that lasted from 5 March 1998^[8] until 11 June 1999 in the former Yugoslavia. (As described on Wikipedia, the war was fought by the forces of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (by this time, consisting of the Republics of Montenegro and Serbia), which controlled Kosovo before the war, and the Kosovo Albanian rebel group known as the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), with air support from the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) and ground support from the Albanian army). Effective in multiple dimensions, the film shows that one never knows where a  work of art might lead, whom it might affect, and how its spirit might live on to inform, influence and inspire future generations. Bravo!

–Anita M. Harris

Link to trailer 

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, in Cambridge, MA.

Spending a day out of Cambridge?  If you wish you were in Paris but can only make it to New York -– take your dreams to the Met and see  “Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris” and “Paris as Muse: Photography 1840s-1930s,”  (both through May 4) and “The Passions of Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux” (through May 26)

[Rue de Constantine]
Charles Marville (French, Paris 1813–1879 Paris)
Date: ca. 1865 Medium: Albumen silver print from glass negative Dimensions: 27.3 x 36.8 cm (10 3/4 x 14 1/2 in.) Classification: Photographs Credit Line Permission Requested: Purchase, The Horace W. Goldsmith Foundation Gift, through Joyce and Robert Menschel, 1986 Accession Number: 1986.1141
)

 

CHARLES MARVILLE AT THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART
Fifth Avenue at East 79^th Street

“ A bittersweet meditation on the meaning of nostalgia and the evolution of urban centers”

The Met’s current exhibit of Paris street scenes by 19^th-century French photographer Charles Marville is a revelation of memory and awareness that rebuffs the notion of nostalgia.

Marville (1813-1879), the son of modest tradespeople, used various techniques to document the destruction and re-creation of Paris from the early 1850’s through the 1870’s.  From 1862 on, he was the official photographer of the city of Paris.

    The neighborhoods and buildings Marville captured in these wondrous and sad images are long gone, having made way for the Paris of Napoleon III and his chief architect and planner, Baron Georges-Eugène Hausmann.The gilded, historic Paris that many of us know — the Belle Epoque city of grand boulevards and the Palais Garnier — was born in Marville’s time.  Preservationism was evolving, as well, through the necessary process of repairing and cleaning such monuments as the great cathedral of Chartres, Notre Dame de Paris, and the Sainte-Chapelle.   

   The impulse to capture the past while obliterating it from sight is the beating heart of these photographs, which preserve the gritty city of Murger’s Scènes de la Vie de Bohème and Hugo’s Les Misérables     .In Marville’s photos, the outskirts of this Paris still look rural, even desolate.  Most of its streets appear to be empty, in part because images were taken very early in the day, but also because Marville’s exposures weren’t long enough to capture pedestrians and carriages in motion.  The rare figures here and there were actually posed within the frame by the artist.The “Hausmannization” of Paris, a cramped, crowded, and less romantic city than the one we imagine, began in the 1850’s under Emperor Napoleon III.   In addition to clearing medieval slums, upgrading sanitation, building parks, and restoring public monuments, the creation of boulevards and wider streets was intended to thwart those who might build and mount barricades, as they  had in the uprisings of 1830 and 1848.Marville recorded everything.  The old buildings, covered with advertising and all kinds of affiches  touting such modern conveniences as the folding umbrella.   The glass-covered, shop-lined alleys called passages, soon to be overshadowed by the department stores, les grand magasins.  The old industrial areas that dumped waste into the Seine tributaries and canals.  The timeless stares of tannery workers.The emerging wonders of the city are displayed here, too.   Hausmann’s “street furniture,” advertising kiosks, gas lamps, and – mais oui – public urinals, are respectfully and meticulously documented by Marville’s camera.  Most remarkable, perhaps, are the photographer’s views of the Avenue de l’Opéra as it was being built in the 1870’s.  Leading to the new Opéra, now called the Palais Garnier, the neighborhood is shown post-demolition and pre-construction, looking like nothing so much as a war zone.One of the final ironies is learning that Marville himself was a victim of Hausmann’s grand plan.  The photographer’s own studios were demolished and, during the 1871 uprising afterthe Franco-Prussian War, the Hôtel de Ville came under attack and much of its archival material – including Marville’s work as official photographer — was destroyed.

The exhibition is a bittersweet meditation on the meaning of nostalgia and the evolution of urban centers, whose periodic re-invention is both necessary and heartless.  Nostalgia is a construct; there are many pasts beyond the ones we recall and imagine.   The home that you long for may be just one of a cascade of images, seen for an instant in a series of receding mirrors.

–Rachel Yurman,  Cambridge, MA
© 2014

 

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, an award-winning public relations and marketing firm based in Kendall Square, Cambridge, MA.

 

 

Alvin Ailey’s performance on Friday was spectacular: riveting, creative, beautiful and…fun!

                 The  program, one of several in new director Robert Battle’s first directorial season,  opened with Arden Court,

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater's Antonio Douthit and Alicia Graf Mack in Paul Taylor's Arden Court. Photo by Paul Kolnik

Photo by Paul Kolnik

set to the baroque music of Richard Boyce and the most “classically” patterned of the evening’s  pieces.

Described  as “an unfolding petal” by Dance Magazine and as  “lush”  and lauded by the New York Times for “the irresistible pleasure of its dancing,”  it  is replete with big movements,  high jumps, and  elegant formations.  This is the first season the Alvin Ailey company, founded in 1958,  has performed a work by Paul Taylor.

Video: at http://www.alvinailey.org/arden-court

The second piece,  Minus 16, by Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin has been widely performed but it was a first for me–and  one of the most unusual dance compositions I’ve ever seen.

It began during what seemed to be an intermission…with  a dancer (Samuel Lee Roberts),  wearing a poorly fitting black suit, seeming to be  lackadaisically fooling around on stage..shuffle step, tap,  to rumba and cha cha music… as if there were no audience. Gradually, more men in hats, black pants and  T-shirts joined him.

In another part of Minus 16,  members of the company dressed in black suits white t shirts sat on folding chairs in a semi-circle– swooping forward and leaning back,  one after the other, in a clockwise wave– to a souped-up version of the passover song Echad Mi Yodea (one who knows). At the end of every repetition, and there were many,   the dancer in the chair farthest right  fell to the floor, taking longer and longer to return to his chair as the “wave” began again.    Part way through, the dancers removed their jackets, and, at the end,  they piled  most of their clothes, including their shoes, at the center of the stage.

In the final  piece of Minus 16,  the dancers walked somberly and silently off the stage and through the performance hall–  returning to the stage,   still silent, escorting  people from  the audience who were then incorporated into the performance.

At first, I thought the audience members on stage were plants: some were great dancers; some were hams; some were both–and many of the women selected wore red tops or scarves  and black skirts or slacks. But  not all were so dressed and not all seemed comfortable being led by their professional partners,  on stage.

The piece ended with all but one of the performers lying down on stage. The one left standing,  a slightly overweight middle-aged blonde  woman,  bowed gracefully.  The lights dimmed, and  a spotlight shone on  her as she walked across the stage,  down the steps  and through the hall to her seat.  The audience–including me–loved it.

I’ve since read in Dance Magazine that  if you want to be chosen to go on stage,  you should wear bright colors; if not, bring a pen and pretend to be a critic by taking notes.  And the Alvin Ailey Web site quotes Battle as saying that  Minus 16  “offers surprising new experiences for the company and our audience,”   and that it will be “both a great joy and a challenge for the dancers to improvise, break the fourth wall and invite the audience in.” So–the audience participation was for real.

The closing piece, Alvin Ailey’s 1960 Revelations, set to  familiar “traditional” songs such as “Wade in the Water,”  “Sinner Man,” and “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,”

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater's Briana Reed and Yannick Lebrun in Alvin Ailey's Revelations. Photo by Gert Krautbauer

brought an encompassing sense of history to the entire performance.   I had seen Revelations as a teenager…and now, as an adult, the variety of periods, costumes it incorporated  got me thinking about the importance of art in integrating  the past and present–and escorting us into the  future.

–Anita M. Harris

Anita M. Harris is a writer and consultant based in Cambridge, MA. New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group, a   PR and marketing communications firm.

Interesting, unusual mix of romance, politics, environmentalism, international affairs, humor, seriousness; has moments that are really fun. The characters (and actors) are attractive, individualized, not cliched, even somewhat complex. The film serves an important purpose in humanizing an Arab sheik for an American audience–and brings up interesting issues about wealth, power, economic development, tradition and resistance to change.

I appreciated Salmon Fishing’s  poking fun at the British government–with humor that we don’t find, these days, in or about American politics. Although it was farfetched, I enjoyed it. My companions, both journalists, found it “too cute.”  I wondered when the movie was conceived and how much sense it makes now, given the current situation in the Middle East.
–Anita M. Harris

Anita Harris, a former journalist, is president of the Harris Communications Group–a Cambridge, MA, PR firm specializing in integrated marketing communications and thought leadership for clients in health, science, technology, energy and education, worldwide.

After a week of torrential rains,  my friend E and I  felt a huge need for light and color–so took in  two excellent retrospective art exhibits: Dale Chihuli’s  Through the Looking Glass at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and   El Anatsui‘s When I Last Wrote to You about Africa at  Wellesley College’s Davis Museum, in Wellesley, MA.

Through the Looking Glass is a 40-year retrospective of the Washington State artist’s blown glass sculptures–such as a boat containing thousands of  glass flowers, fantastical forests,  sculptures based on South American basketry–which took  us out of our doldrums and got our imaginations flowing and reminded us that we can each create worlds of our own.

In When I Last Wrote to You about Africa ,  the  West African artist El Anatsui  transformed mundane materials into forms and objects that were beautiful and real.

Surveying nearly five decades of the West African artist’s internationally renowned career, the exhibit featured some sixty works in wood, metal ceramic, painting, print and drawing.  E and I especially loved the gorgeous tapestry created from used wine-bottle caps and labels; wooden sculpture made from open boxes meant to remind viewers of the opening of market stalls and paintings of African colors, shapes. More difficult and disturbing was  a stone-carved head–with traditional face but open in back to reveal not much in the brain.

An additional highlight was an exhibit of fashions designed by Wellesley students–meant to interpret the  show.  I particularly liked one showing a long, flowing fancy dress which, on closer glance, turned made of a black garbage bag, with collar and ruffle resembling feathers–but made from cut up magazines–all commenting on the ephemeral nature, I believe, of show business careers.    E was partial to a dress with a bodice composed of typewriter keys…reflecting El Anatsu’si use of everyday objects in creating new ones.

Apologies for waiting so long to see/write about this one–(it closed on June 26) but E says the ICA has acquired one of the works; that will definitely be worth seeing, there.

Chihuly/ Through the Looking Glass will be at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, through August 7, 2011.

Anita M. Harris

Anita M. Harris is a journalist, photographer and President of the Harris Communications Group of Cambridge, MA.