Friday, November 5, 2010

Artist: Winslow Homer - Artists Sketching in the White Mountains


Winslow Homer (1836–1910)
Artists Sketching in the White Mountains, 1868
Oil on panel, 9-1/2 x 15-7/8 inches
Bequest of Charles Shipman Payson, 1988.55. 4


The White Mountains served as a national landscape in the years that followed the Civil War. One of the first regions to engender and exploit a tourist economy in the United States, the towns surrounding the Presidential Range of New Hampshire provided the infrastructure for a generation of artists to capture the view while taking in the fresh air of the country. Painting Mount Washington, the highest peak in the range, came to be considered a rite of passage for artists of every stripe. Homer—ironic in temperament and possessing a keen, self-deprecating sense of humor—took obvious pleasure in depicting himself as last in this queue of plein-air painters as evidenced by the knapsack bearing the inscription “Homer.” Although Homer would continue to paint genre subjects throughout the 1870s, the subtle critique evidenced in Artists Sketching in the White Mountains would eventually lead him to darker, existential dramas.

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in General


Damon Winter/The New York Times

Updated: Oct. 21, 2009

The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum was founded in 1939 by Guggeneheim, a copper magnate, and his German adviser, the artist Baroness Hilla Rebay. Before he met Rebay, Guggenheim collected Old Masters, but she converted him to modern art.

Rebay pressed Guggenheim to collect nonobjective art, a style without recognizable figures or objects that she followed in her own work. She urged him to start a museum for such art. With her encouragement, the tycoon acquired works by Kandinsky, Gris, Léger, Moholy-Nagy and others that would one day form the groundwork for the Guggenheim's famous collection, now housed in a Frank Lloyd Wright landmark building, which celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2009.

The Museum of Non-Objective Painting, as the Guggenheim was initially called, mingled pictures by Klee and Kandinsky with piped-in organ music, mostly Bach. It did not allow sculptures, which were deemed too ''material'' and insufficiently mystical. Not long after the museum opened in a former car showroom on East 54th Street, its founders commissioned a Wisconsin-born architect to design a temple for their collection in 1943. Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece took so long to complete that by the time the building was unveiled, on Oct. 21, 1959, both he and Guggenheim had died.

Since its opening, drawing huge crowds and controversy because of its design, the building, with its spiraled interior rising 96 feet, has been the primary reason many people go to the Guggenheim.

Museum surveys show that for the 900,000 to 1,000,000 people who visit every year, the building consistently ranked over the art as the reason for visiting. Architecture buffs say the Guggenheim is Wright's most visited building and his only major commission in New York City.

Neither the building's design nor its construction went smoothly. The only builder Wright could find to execute his drawings economically was a man whose expertise was in constructing parking garages and freeways. The building's outer wall was made by spraying layers of gunite (a mixture of sand and cement commonly used to line swimming pools) from within the building, through steel reinforcements, against pieces of plywood that were molded into the building's shape. Every few years the exterior is patched and painted, but the cosmetic touches camouflage far deeper problems.

A 2009 Frank Lloyd Wright exhibition drew more people to the Guggenheim Museum than any other exhibition since the museum started keeping track of such figures in 1992. ''Frank Lloyd Wright: From Within Outward,'' a retrospective of Wright's work timed to the museum's 50th anniversary that included drawings and his original model for the museum, drew 372,000 visitors for the 87 days the show was open (May 15 - Aug. 23).

The Guggenheim, which has forged an international network of museums, also has locations in Venice, Berlin, Las Vegas and Bilbao, Spain, along with partnerships with the State Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia, and the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.

Petah Coyne: Everthing That Rises Must Converge






MASS MOCA - MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART
NORTH ADAMS, MA
Through May 1 2011
Curated by Denise Markonish

Petah Coyne, Untitled #1240 (Black Cloud), 2007–2008, taxidermy birds, silk flowers, silk/rayon velvet, plaster statuary, feathers, wax, cables, cable nuts, paint, plaster, metal, felt, pearl-headed hat pins, pigment, thread, wood, vinyl, dimensions variable. Untitled # 1240 (Black Cloud) courtesy the artist and Galerie Lelong, NY

Unlike many contemporary artists who focus on social or media-related issues, Petah Coyne imbues her work with a magical quality to evoke intensely personal associations. Her sculptures convey an inherent tension between vulnerability and aggression, innocence and seduction, beauty and decadence, and, ultimately, life and death. Coyne's work seems Victorian in its combination of an overloaded refinement with a distinctly decadent and morbid undercurrent. Her innovative use of materials includes dead fish, mud, sticks, black sand, old car parts, wax, satin ribbons, artificial flowers and birds, birdcages, and most recently, taxidermy animals, Madonna statues, and horsehair.

A selection of Coyne's recent work along with two new works are on view at MASS MoCA. Viewers are transported when entering the galleries, baroque works delicately combining taxidermy birds and dripping with wax rise up from the floor and chandelier-type sculptures descend from the ceiling, taking full advantage of the multiple vantage point of MASS MoCA's triple height gallery space. This exhibition particularly focuses on works from the last 10 years including selections from Coyne's series based on Dante's Inferno, such as Untitled #1180 (Beatrice) which transforms Dante's love into a monumental sculpture of black wax covered flowers with the most subtle color breaking through, velvet and various taxidermy birds diving in and out of the towering form. Galleries filled with white wax sculptures are adjacent to the black works -- these pale, ghostly images call forth Victorian lace and at the same time the frailty of life. Some of Coyne's ghostly photographs featuring blurred figures of children and Buddhist monks are also on view.

Petah Coyne was born in Oklahoma City in 1953. She lives and works in New York and New Jersey. Solo exhibitions include Vermilion Fog at Galerie LeLong, NY; Petah Coyne: Above and Beneath the Skin at Sculpture Center, Long Island City, NY, Chicago Cultural Center, Chicago, IL, Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art, Kansas City, MO, Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art, Scottsdale, AZ, Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY; Petah Coyne: Hairworks Cincinnati Art Museum, Cincinnati, OH. Selected group exhibitions include Damaged Romanticism: A Mirror of Modern Emotion at the Blaffer Gallery, University of Houston, Houston, TX, Grey Art Gallery, New York University, NY, the Parrish Art Museum, Southampton, NY; Uncontained, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, NY; and Material Actions, Museum of Contemporary Art, San Diego, CA. Coyne�s work is in the collections of the Addison Gallery of American Art, Phillips Academy, Andover, MA; Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY; Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn, NY; Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, DC; Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY; Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA; Museum of Modern Art, NY; Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, NY; The Whitney Museum of American Art, NY and many more.

This exhibition is made possible by the Toby D. Lewis Philanthropic Fund of the Jewish Community Federation of Cleveland, the Elizabeth A. Sackler Museum Educational Trust, Galerie Lelong, McBride & Associates Architects, and the Massachusetts Cultural Council. Additional support provided by Dennis Braddock and Janice Niemi, Carol and William Browne, Linda and Ronald F. Daitz, Pamela and Robert Goergen, Jane and Leonard Korman, Anita Laudone and Colin Harley, the Barbara Lee Family Foundation, Kari McCabe and Nate McBride, Kate and Hans Morris, Sam and Martha Peterson, Elizabeth Ryan, and Stone Ridge Orchard.

Images from the Brooklyn Museum Show - https://www.brooklynmuseum.org/opencollection/exhibitions/1033/Petah_Coyne%3A_Untitled_Installation/image/5886/community/posse/tab/photos/right-tab/talk/

Artist: Modest Huys - Some landscapes

Zomernamiddagzon

Petite écluse: a lock with a village beyond

Populieren in Maartezon

"Vlasoogst"

Biography

Modest Huys was a Belgian painter of landscapes and portraits. He received advice from Emile Claus and was later a student at the Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp. Modeste Huys was an enthusiast of anything concerning light and colours and the poet of joyous and happy country life. His works are full of optimistic luminism, translating with delight the most beautiful aspects of an ever-admirable nature. His art glorifies the fertile and plentiful Flanders where the silvery and slithering ribbon of the river Lys flows. Modeste Huys is more particularly the painter of the River Lys and of flax. His works are an hymn for his native country.






Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Spanish Manner: Drawings from Ribera to Goya October 5, 2010, through January 9, 2011

This exhibition is the first dedicated to the tradition of Spanish draftsmanship to be held in New York, which is second only to Madrid in the extent and quality of its collections of Spanish master drawings. The show begins with a large ensemble encompassing both preliminary sketches and finished studies that were made in important centers of artistic activity in seventeenth-century Spain, including Seville, Madrid, and Spanish-ruled Naples. Groups of works by Golden Age masters Jusepe de Ribera (1591–1652) and Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617–1682) reveal the development of their distinctive drawing styles and their deft handling of different media over time. Key examples by their contemporaries Vicente Carducho (c. 1576–1638) and Juan Carreño de Miranda (1614–1685) represent the breadth of accomplishment among Spanish draftsmen in preparing commissioned works or studies for their own use. Two eighteenth-century works by the court artists Mariano Salvador Maella (1739–1819) and Francisco Bayeu (1734–1795) highlight their drawing practice, emphasizing the use of colored papers and contrasting white chalk, techniques also used by other celebrated practitioners of European neoclassicism.

The final section of the exhibition centers on twenty-two sheets by Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828), whose drawings are rarely presented in the context of his Spanish predecessors. Nearly all the works by Goya shown formed part of the eight cycles of drawings made between the late eighteenth century and his death, which have been described as “albums.” For the artist, these remarkable records of things seen, remembered, and imagined served as an expressive end in themselves. They also attest to the continuity of Goya’s thematic interests with those of his Spanish forebears and represent the culmination in the nineteenth century of a distinctly Spanish mode of draftsmanship.


Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Self-Portrait
c. 1798
Chalk over traces of pencil
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of Walter C. Baker, 1971
CAT. NO. 33

Only a few years after the illness that left him deaf, Francisco de Goya portrayed himself in the fashionable garb and sideburns of a late eighteenth-century gentleman. This drawing is the preliminary design for the etching that served as the frontispiece of Goya’s Caprichos, his series of eighty aquatint etchings published in 1799. As a preparatory work, the sheet provides an intimate glimpse of the artist’s working process in red chalk.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
A Fight (Album B. 15)
1796–97
Brush and ink with wash
The Hispanic Society of America, New York
CAT. NO. 34

This extraordinary scene depicts a majo, the fashionably dressed man reclining in front, watching two women (or perhaps a man and a woman) brawl on the floor. The delicacy and control of Goya’s brushwork almost offset the violence of the scene, in which one person raises a shoe to hit the other, who grabs the first person’s hair. They are sprawled on the ground, their garments raised and legs intertwined, to the apparent amusement of the majo.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Fatal desgracia. Toda la casa es un clamor, p.r q.e no à óbrado la Perrica en todo el dia (What a Disaster! The Whole House Is in an Uproar Because the Poor Little Dog [Bitch] Hasn’t Done Her Duty All Day) (Album B. 91)
1796–97
Brush and ink
Collection Michael and Judy Steinhardt, New York
CAT. NO. 35 (recto)

Figures cry, pray, and count rosary beads, distraught by the situation described in Goya’s caption. The double-entendre of the word “Perrica” (little dog, or bitch) suggests that their concern is not the animal but the seated woman in tears — a prostitute with no customers. The dog instead seems to play the role of narrator as she is the only character who engages the viewer.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Borricos de Mascara. Estan muy contentos, de q.e p.r los bestidos, pasan por hombres grandes (Masquerading Asses. They Are Pleased That Because of Their Clothing They Are Taken for Grandees) (Album B. 92)
1796–97
Brush and ink, retouched with pen and ink
Collection Michael and Judy Steinhardt, New York
CAT. NO. 35 (verso)

Goya identifies as “masquerading asses” both the frocked donkeys and the obsequious young man who is fooled by their attire, but whose own finery may be considered equally superficial and meaningless. When Goya returned to the drawing to inscribe his caption, he took his pen to the image and strengthened, with warm brown in, the lines of the man’s hair and costume and the donkeys’ ears and faces.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Tuti li mundi (Peepshow) (Album C. 71)
1808–14
Pen, brush and ink with wash and crayon or chalk
The Hispanic Society of America, New York
CAT. NO. 36

While a man enjoys the view offered by a tuti li mundi — a term (literally meaning “all the world”) for the kind of peepshow box pictured here — a woman delights in a glimpse of his backside, actively peering into the tear in his pants. The irony implied is that the box offers something equally lowbrow, absurd, or satiric, despite its claim to offer the worldly and fantastic.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Tiene prisa de e[s]capar (She’s in a Hurry to Escape) (Album C. 128)
1808–14
Brush and ink with wash
The Hispanic Society of America, New York
CAT. NO. 37

Goya’s caption reinforces the worried look of this young nun seen removing her habit. This scene of “unfrocking,” symbolic of leaving a religious order, may be a response to the secularization law that forced monks and nuns out of monasteries and convents during the Napoleonic era. Inventive touches — such as the fallen cloak that doubles as the figure’s shadow — temper Goya’s often strident anticlericalism.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
A Nude Woman Seated beside a Brook
(Album F. 32)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 38

Nudes are rare in Goya’s work, as are drawings in which landscape figures prominently. The artist took a painterly approach to the setting, covering most of the paper with ink and allowing the exposed areas — the woman’s bare flesh and the light shining through the trees — to gleam in contrast. The onlooker in the background suggests that the drawing could represent the biblical story of Susanna and the Elders.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Crowd in a Circle (Album F. 42)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 39

This drawing almost defies description. While the circular composition perhaps relates to a dance, the large number of figures and the open circle of white space in the background suggest another activity, perhaps one far less pleasant than dancing. Figures in the right foreground appear to be engaged in an argument.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Repentance (Album F. 47)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink with wash
Gregory Callimanopulos
CAT. NO. 40

An emaciated male penitent prays with clasped hands in front of a makeshift cross. His gaping mouth and lost gaze suggest a state of either ecstatic rapture or vacant drowsiness. A rationalist with liberal sympathies, Goya satirized his contemporaries’ religious fanaticism in mordant drawings and etchings that depict the exaggerated behaviors of the overly devout. A few brushstrokes and effective washes suggest the play of light on the rocky surroundings, probably the entry to a hermit’s cave.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Three Men Digging (Album F. 51)
1812–20
Brush and wash
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 41

This vigorous drawing has long been considered a preliminary sketch for The Frick Collection’s painting The Forge (on view in the East Gallery on the main floor). The subtle changes that took place between this triad of figures and their counterparts in The Forge show the malleability and economy of Goya’s pictorial thinking. Scenes from life and imagination filled his albums and supplied him with an endless source of material that could be reworked to new ends.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Torture of a Man (Album F. 56)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink
The Hispanic Society of America, New York
CAT. NO. 42

Goya sketched scenes of violence and torture throughout his career. Here, a man with his wrists tied behind his back is being interrogated with the help of the strappado, a device that causes a painful dislocation of the shoulders and elbows. By concealing the faces of the two men operating the crank, Goya invites the viewer to concentrate on the drama of the man kicking in midair, whose gracefulness belies the horror of the scene.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
A Man Drinking from a Wineskin (Album F. 63)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink, with scraping
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 43

The focus on the kneeling figure in the center of the sheet, and his isolation in space without context emphasize the loneliness of the endeavor. The large wineskin, the man’s top hat, and his shadow are all reinforced with saturated brushstrokes of darker ink. Delicate strokes made with the point of a brush define the crumpled cloth where he kneels.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
A Nun Frightened by a Ghost (Album F. 65)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink with wash
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 44

In this ingenious portrayal of a nightmare apparition, Goya used the wet point of his brush to depict the phantom in transparent wash. The nun in the foreground, confronting the apparition with her hand raised, has been reinforced in darker wash. A saturated brush full of ink created the rich, dark contrast of her veil and the shadow under her hand.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Beggar Holding a Stick in His Left Hand
(Album F. 70)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 45

Goya’s depictions of poverty are unflinching. Here, an aged beggar fixes the viewer in his gaze while extending his hat to receive alms. The shadows cast by the man and his cane define the scene’s space and increase its sense of stark isolation. This particular type of representation may have been inspired by etchings of solitary paupers by Rembrandt, an artist Goya greatly admired.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Peasant Carrying a Woman (Album F. 72)
1814–20
Brush and ink with wash
The Hispanic Society of America, New York
CAT. NO. 46

Goya’s ability to capture with split-second timing images of figures engaged in vigorous activity is matched here by his succinct execution. The dynamism of the scene comes across immediately, but the meaning remains obscure: is he assisting or abducting her? Goya repeatedly focused on the effect of gravity on the body. In such scenes as this one, figures support each other and the weight of the body is apparent.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Two Prisoners in Irons (Album F. 80)
c. 1812–20
Brush and ink
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 47

Two prisoners, chained to a wall and shackled, occupy the foreground of this sheet conceived in light shadow. Daylight enters from the upper right corner, where bars form a grid over the window, and highlights the back of the adult figure. The adult prisoner bends toward the figure of the similarly chained child, casting a pool of shadow on the floor.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
The Anglers (Album F. a)
1814–20
Brush and wash
The Frick Collection, New York
CAT. NO. 48

Goya covered the writing on the top of this used piece of paper with layers of wash. The resulting shape appears to have suggested a grotto with figures fishing. In contrast to the large wash areas, he defines with the greatest precision the features of a face, the details of a costume, and even the fishing line with the tip of his brush, while leaving the fish itself a mere blot.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
No llenas tanto la cesta (Don’t Fill the Basket So Full) (Album E. 8)
c. 1814–20
Brush and ink with wash, with scraping
Private collection, New York
CAT. NO. 49

An old woman huddles over her basket of eggs in the lower third of the sheet in this brush and ink wash from the “Black Border” Album. Goya’s caption cautions against filling the basket too full, an admonition or advice to the woman, who appears self-contained, clutching the handle of her basket. The meaning of the eggs, usually a sign of promise and fertility, is ambiguous here.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Mal tiempo pasas (You Are Having a Bad Time) (Album E. 26)
c. 1816–20
Brush and wash
The Morgan Library & Museum, New York, Thaw Collection, gift in honor of the 75th anniversary of the Morgan Library and the 50th anniversary of the Association of Fellows. (1999.23)
CAT. NO. 50

Goya’s shepherd appears ragged and bent, while his sheep rests. Christ told the parable of the Good Shepherd, saying: “I am the Good Shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep” (John 10:11).



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Pobre e gnuda bai filosofia (Poor and Bare Goes Philosophy) (Album E. 28)
c. 1816–17
Brush and ink with wash
Collection Michael and Judy Steinhardt, New York
CAT. NO. 51

Does this peasant woman gaze upward in bewilderment or in comprehension of the words she has just read? Although Goya’s caption (a quote from Petrarch, in faulty Italian) could be ironic, the gleaming light that illuminates the figure’s face — conveyed through the contrast of the exposed white paper and the dark ink — suggests that this is a scene of true personal enlightenment, which can be experienced by all.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Regozijo (Mirth) (Album D. 4)
c. 1816–20
Brush and ink with wash and chalk
The Hispanic Society of America, New York
CAT. NO. 52

Liberated from gravity and the limitations of their aging bodies, two floating figures exchange a touching look of shared delight. The woman’s billowing skirt, rendered with bold dabs of ink wash, conveys the speed of their magical ascension. Goya’s numerous depictions of airborne figures are roughly contemporary with experiments with hotair balloons and parachutes in Europe, though here he includes no such device. This couple’s levity is pure fantasy. Fittingly, the man plays castanets, a symbol of happiness or mirth.



Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
De esto nada se sabe (Nothing Is Known of This) (Album D. 7)
c. 1816–20
Brush and ink, with scraping
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1935
CAT. NO. 53

The caption of this drawing suggests that there is a mystery inherent in the scene. The two figures in the front appear to bend over a bundle of sorts. Behind them, a singing or speaking figure emerges from the arched doorway of a church, holding a piece of paper with writing. There is an ominous tone, conveyed by the gaping mouths and dark ink shadows.





Francisco de Goya y Lucientes (1746–1828)
Amaneció asi, mutilado, en Zaragoza, a principios de 1700 (He Appeared Like This, Mutilated, in Zaragoza, Early in 1700),
(Album G. 16)
1824–28
Crayon
Dian Woodner Collection, New York
CAT. NO. 54

Goya’s narrative caption recalls a horrible mutilation that took place in his home town years before his birth. Heavy strokes of black crayon at the bottom of the bundle suggest blood pooled inside the fabric, around the man’s protruding legs. This is one of several drawings Goya made to comment on grisly historical events he had heard of but not witnessed.


The exhibition is organized by Jonathan Brown, Carroll and Milton Petrie Professor of Fine Arts, Institute of Fine Arts, New York University; Lisa A. Banner, independent scholar; and Susan Grace Galassi, Senior Curator at The Frick Collection.

The exhibition is made possible, in part, by the David L. Klein Jr. Foundation, Elizabeth and Jean-Marie Eveillard, and the Samuel H. Kress Foundation.

The accompanying catalogue has been generously underwritten by the Center for Spain in America.