Tuesday, November 24th, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving! I don’t know too many works of art about Thanksgiving; I usually associate this holiday with Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want (1943, shown above). Last week, though, I learned about another Thanksgiving painting while listening to Linda Nochlin’s lecture at the SAAM. Nochlin talked about how Doris Lee’s painting Thanksgiving (1935, shown below) has been described as “Rockwell-esque” and similar to Freedom From Want. Nochlin doesn’t see too many similarities, and neither do I. Historically, the comparison doesn’t make much sense, because Lee’s painting precedes Rockwell’s work by eight years. (I guess that if one was determined to make a comparison, it would be more correct to argue that Rockwell’s painting is “Lee-esque.”)
I like Lee’s depiction because it shows all of the behind-the-scenes work that goes into the Thanksgiving feast. Perhaps I’m drawn to this painting because I’m cooking the turkey for the first time this year. (Gasp!) Nochlin pointed out that the food appears to miraculously appear on Rockwell’s table, whereas Lee stresses the preparation that goes into a Thanksgiving meal. Nochlin also pointed out that all of the people in the painting are women, except for one lazy boy who stands aloof and watches everyone else work!
Although I think that these two paintings are dissimilar in style and subject matter, I do think that they both capture the excitement and sense of anticipation that is part of Thanksgiving. The bustling movement and energy of Lee’s women is related to the energetic interactions between the people at Rockwell’s table. And the man in Rockwell’s foreground invites us to join in the fun, gazing outward with his twinkling eyes and excited expression. I think it is this sense of excitement that I like best about these paintings, and it’s one of the things that I love about the Thanksgiving holiday.
Do you know of other depictions of Thanksgiving? What’s your favorite part about the Thanksgiving holiday?
Thursday, November 19th, 2009
Last night I watched a live webcast of Linda Nochlin’s lecture at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Nochlin is one of the forefront feminist art historians today (she practically created feminist studies in art history with this article). She has influenced a lot of my thinking in regards to feminism and postcolonialism, and I was really excited to hear her speak. Nochlin spoke about female American artists, ranging from Mary Cassatt to the contemporary period. (On a side note, don’t you think it’s interesting how both the Americans and French want claim the ex-pat Cassatt as belonging to their country/art movements? Is she a French Impressionist or an American Impressionist?)
There were two things in Nochlin’s lecture that I thought were especially interesting. I liked how Nochlin compared Mary Cassatt to the compositional devices in Little Girl in a Blue Armchair (c. 1878, shown above on right). Nochlin pointed out that Cassatt was extremely aware of childhood and its discontents, as is evidenced in the painting and subject matter. The little girl is slumped in her chair – it’s obvious that she is annoyed with the convention of portraiture and having to sit still (for a long time!) while her portrait is painted. The girl’s resistant attitude is emphasized by her angular body within the composition: there’s an interesting contrast between the angular body of the girl and the soft, circular body of the dog.
Nochlin paralleled this painting to the discontent that Cassatt felt in her own life. Like this little girl, Cassatt was also resistant to convention and tradition. As a suffragist and avant-garde artist, Cassatt defied the standards that were upheld by 19th century society. Cassatt’s disregard for the tradition of painting is even emphasized in the unconventional perspective of Little Girl in a Blue Armchair; the viewpoint has been lowered so that the scene is viewed from the perspective of a child, not that of an adult.
Nochlin also made a passing comment that I thought was interesting. She was discussing Dorothea Lange’s Migrant Mother (1936, shown on right) and mentioned that she liked that the photograph was black and white. Nochlin feels like there is a true feeling of “documentation” when a photograph is black and white – there is a refusal of the decorative, emotional quality that comes with color. In terms of facts and documentation, the idea of “black and white” is extended to the newspaper and media paradigm, since people say “I read it in black and white.” Interesting, huh?
Did anyone else have a chance to hear Nochlin’s lecture? What do you think of the two ideas I mentioned?
Wednesday, October 7th, 2009
My brother sent me this link with some pictures of the art pieces that the Obamas have selected for the White House. Before seeing these pictures, I had already read different commentaries on how Obama had selected mostly modern pieces for his walls. Although other first families have hung modern art before, no one has displayed as much modern art as the Obamas.
There are two articles from today (one from the Guardian and another from the London Times), which discuss how Obama’s taste in art can be a reflection of his presidency and policies. I think it’s interesting (and kind of humorous) that Obama picked this above painting, “I think I’ll…” (Ed Ruscha, 1983) for the White House collection. If you can’t tell, the subject of the painting deals with indecision.
I’m sure that the White House art is a reflection of the Obama family’s taste, but I can’t help but think about all of the political messages that the Obamas needed to consider in the selection process. What a headache that must have been! For example, I think it’s likely that the selection of Alma Thomas’ Watusi Hard Edge (1963) was chosen because Alma is an African American and female. Of course, the painting is really nice, but I wonder if its aesthetic was the primary motivation for selection. What do you think?
Although some pieces entered the White House earlier this year, some paintings have just recently arrived. The painting above, Rothko’s No. 17/No. 15 (1949) is kind of in limbo right now; the Obamas aren’t quite sure what to do with it. I hope they find a place for this painting. It’s quite lovely. (Do you think there’s a reason that the Obamas want a Rothko that is comprised of red, white, and blue? Maybe? Maybe not?)
What do you think of the Obama’s art? Are there any pieces that stand out to you?
Friday, September 25th, 2009
Jackson Pollock,
Mural, 1943 (University of Iowa Museum of Art)
My aunt just forwarded me
this intriguing article from the most recent edition of
Smithsonian.com. The writer of the article argues that Jackson Pollock hid the letters of his name among the swirls of his painting
Mural (shown above). If you can’t see these letters right-off-the-bat (I certainly couldn’t), click
here to see the Smithsonian interactive site.
What do you think about this? Do you buy it? Can you see the letters? I’m kind of on-the-fence about it. I think it’s possible that Pollock might have included his name – I can see the “P” and “O” of his last name very distinctly. At the same time, though, I think that if a person stares at this painting long enough, they can see tons of other letters. I’ve been looking at this painting for a while, and (with the help of my imagination?) I can see a capital “A” in the lower right corner and a cursive, capital “T” in the upper right corner. So, I don’t know if I’m completely sold on the idea. Nonetheless, it’s fun to think about.
Do you spot anything else? If anyone can help me find a portrait of Clement Greenberg hidden in this painting, I’ll give you five bucks. And then we can co-write a new article for Smithsonian.
Friday, September 11th, 2009
This is a very appropriate post for today. It discusses the architect for the World Trade Center Towers, Minoru Yamasaki. You should check it out – it’s quite interesting. I didn’t realize that another architectural project by Yamasaki was destroyed in 1972 (just two years after the World Trade Center towers were completed). Poor Yamasaki. I hope that none of his other work is destroyed in such a tragic fashion.