Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Gerhard Richter. Drawings
Dieter Schwarz from Kunstmuseum Winterthur talks about Gerhard Richter's drawings.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Tim Burton MoMA Spot
On view at MoMA
November 22, 2009-April 26, 2010
For more information please visit http://www.moma.org/timburton
See behind the scenes of the creation of the animation:
http://bit.ly/1trJWI
Directed by Tim Burton
Produced by Mackinnon and Saunders
CGI Animation: Flix Facilities
Animation: Chris Tichborne
Lighting Camera: Martin Kelly
Music by Danny Elfman
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Einstein: The Autism Connection
Short film which looks at the evidence for Albert Einstein being on the autism spectrum. This possibility also highlights the strong positives that many people with autism can have. Too many films ...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Roman Ondák discusses Performance 4, Measuring the Universe, at MoMA
For more information, please visit http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/ex...
Performance 4: Roman Ondák
June 24, 2009-September 14, 2009
Part of the Performance Exhibition Series
Music: "Libertad" by Iriarte and Pesoa, courtesy of the Free Music Archive. More information available at www.freemusicarchive.org.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Art:21 | Richard Tuttle
Richard Tuttle commonly refers to his work as drawing rather than sculpture, emphasizing the diminutive scale and idea-based nature of his practice. He subverts the conventions of modernist sculptural practice and instead creates small, eccentrically playful objects in decidedly humble materials such as paper, rope, twigs, and bubble wrap. Tuttle also manipulates the space in which his objects exist, forcing viewers to reconsider and renegotiate the white-cube gallery space in relation to their own bodies.
Richard Tuttle is featured in the Season 3 episode "Structures" of the Art21 series "Art:21—Art in the Twenty-First Century".
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Abstract Expressionist Svein Koningen: first video
Svein Koningen http://koningen.net : Norwegian born, Australian contemporary abstract artist based in Bruges, Belgium. Svein paints large paintings using vibrant colour and texture.
Visit the website: http://www.koningen.ne
Friday, May 22, 2009
Making the "Marriage Dance" Sculpture
Gail Chavenelle of Chavenelle Studio Metalworks demonstrates the different steps in creating one of her one-piece metal sculptures. This sculpture is called "Marriage Dance". Gail is based out of ...
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Gerhard Richter. Large Abstracts
Museum Ludwig, Cologne, Germany October 18, 2008 - February 01, 2009. View all paintings in the exhibition: http://www.gerhard-richter....
Gerhard Richter. Portraits (Part II)
National Portrait Gallery, London, UK
February 26, 2009 - May 31, 2009.
Gerhard Richter. Portraits (Part I)
National Portrait Gallery, London, UK
February 26, 2009 - May 31, 2009. View all paintings in this exhibition: http://www.gerhard-richter....
KETC | Living St. Louis | Tara Donovan
From KETC, LIVING ST. LOUIS Producer Jim Kirchherr meets Tara Donovan during her visit to the St. Louis Art Museum. Donovan, a contemporary artist from New York, has two of her pieces are on display in the museum. She uses everyday items and consumer goods, such as plastic straws and cups, to create her towering sculptures that are creating quite a buzz in the art community.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
CRCA Lunchtime Talk - Documenting Digital and New Media Art
Digital and new media art has presented unexpected challenges in documenting performances. The complexity of the experience with components inserted live, from audio and video input, and from computer generated elements, along with spatial emphasis strains the videographer's attempt to render it into a conventional format.
Panel Members: Doug Ramsey and Alex Matthews from Calit2 have addressed these problems and been able to overcome some of these issues. Ramsey and Matthews produced the HD capture of a recent performance of Sanctuary, a percussion composition by Roger Reynolds, which was performed by Red Fish Blue Fish in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. This unusual setting for a musical performance and the complexity of the multimedia experience presented numerous obstacles they managed to overcome. The Calit2 team also recently captured the early-March performance of Kamza and Bar Kamza, by Music professor Shlomo Dubnov, and they are presently in production of a DVD of Stay the Hand, a multimedia dance performance given at Birch North Park Theater this month.
Todd Margolis, Technical Director of CRCA, is also an artist, educator and technologist and has extensive experience in the production of immersive and interactive media. These ephemeral media pose their own difficulties, yet Margolis has managed to produce effective documentations of them while retaining a good sense of the experiences. Currently he is a collaborator on the Atlas In Silico project, which premiered at SIGGRAPH 2007 festival and will be shown this year at the Ingenuity Festival as well as the LA Municipal Art Gallery. Some of his prior projects include Special Treatment, an immersive and interactive virtual reality installation based on the architecture of the Auschwitz II/Birkenau concentration camp and is inhabited by those latent memories; Immersagrams produced thru his collaboration with artn.com; and was a co-developer of the auto-stereoscopic barrier strip virtual reality display (Varrier). This discussion can be of great help to all artists/researchers, editors, photographers, sound and communications people and anyone who appreciates the creative talents of enhancing artistic expression with computer input and translating a performance or other event into a video/audio for wider distribution.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Josiah McElheny presenting at MoMA
Josiah McElheny presenting as part of the program "Artists and Models" on March 12, 2007 (edited for time).
For the exhibition Josiah McElheny presenting as part of the program "Artists and Models" on March 12, 2007 (edited for time).
For the exhibition Projects 84, artist Josiah McElheny created a sculptural installation of crystalline glass, metal, and colored light that drew upon the visionary schemes of Paul Scheerbart, the Berlin poet and novelist, and Bruno Taut, the uncrowned leader of the circle of revolutionary architects that emerged in Berlin after World War I. McElheny's model-scale landscape depicting two structures—an "Alpine Cathedral" and a "City-Crown"—was a critique of the utopian ideals embodied in twentieth-century modernism.
For more information on the exhibition, please visit: http://www.moma.org/exhibitions/exhib...
Audio of the program, including a presentation by Joshua Siegel, the curator of the exhibition, is available at: http://moma.org/visit_moma/audio/2007... _2007.html
© 2007 The Museum of Modern Art, New York
Images courtesy of Josiah McElheny
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Inside New York's Art World: Robert Motherwell
Interviewer: Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel Part of the Diamonstein-Spielvogel Video Archive in the Duke University Libraries:
Milton Glaser
Milton Glaser -- born 26. 6. 1929 in New York, USA -- graphic designer, illustrator, teacher.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Oil on canvas. 89.5x 55.25 cm. The Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA, USA.
Sonata 1911. Oil on canvas. 145 x 113 cm. The Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA, USA.
Nude Descending a Staircase
Nude Descending a Staircase (No.2)/Nu descendant un Escalier. No.2. 1912. Oil on canvas 147.5 x 89 cm. The Philadelphia Museum of Art, Philadelphia, PA, USA. Inspired by the photographic motion studies of Eadweard Muybridge (left), Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2, was painted by Duchamp in 1912. When it was first exhibited at the legendary Armory Show in New York (February 17-March 15, 1913), it caused an uproar which both outraged many people and made Duchamp famous in America. One critic called it "an explosion in a shingle factory."
Marcel Duchamp's
Reinventing the wheelLove it or hate it, Marcel Duchamp's urinal revolutionised modern culture in 1917. Did the
The object in Tate Modern is white and shiny, cast in porcelain, its slender upper part curving outward as it descends to a receiving bowl - into which I urinate. It's just a brief walk from here in the fifth-floor men's loo to Marcel Duchamp's Fountain, an object sealed in a plastic display case on a plinth that is nevertheless almost identical to the receptacle into which I've just pissed. This museum treasure is no more or less than Duchamp described it to his sister in a letter of spring 1917: une pissotière en porcelaine. Duchamp warned against an attitude of "aesthetic delectation" that would transfigure his urinal into something artistic. Yet, as a visual form, it is bizarrely lovely, so white and incongruously ethereal, and as art it is ... well, there's a question already tripping me up. Is it art?
The eminent New Yorkers who ran the American Society of Independent Artists decided in April 1917 that it wasn't. The Independents congratulated themselves on championing all that was new and progressive in art, and to ensure openness to the new they agreed to the idea of one of their directors, Duchamp himself, that anyone who paid a $6 fee should be able to show in their inaugural exhibition. This meant that technically there were no grounds to refuse the mysterious R Mutt's last-minute entry of a men's urinal entitled Fountain - for he had paid his fee. An emergency meeting nevertheless rejected it.
The next month, a little magazine called The Blind Man, which was co-edited by Duchamp, defended Mr Mutt's Fountain: "Whether Mr Mutt with his own hands made the fountain or not has no importance. He CHOSE it. He took an ordinary article of life, placed it so that its useful significance disappeared under the new title and point of view - and created a new thought for that object."
These words resonate as excitingly, provocatively, philosophically today as they did in the early 20th century. A vast proportion of 21st-century art traces its origins to these words, that pissotière. The editorial in The Blind Man - whose authorship Duchamp never formally acknowledged, any more than he officially owned up to being R Mutt - is actually more important than the urinal itself, which was not his first "readymade" work of art. Rather, it allowed him to make explicit an idea that until then was only a private musing. How did he come up with such a notion?
This, it seems to me, is the question no one asks about Duchamp. His big idea - that any ordinary "readymade" object can be chosen by the artist as a work of art - has sunk so deep into modern culture that he is imagined almost as a biblical prophet, a remote figure of authority. It's as if contemporary art history begins with him. Art is steeped in tradition - today, there is a tradition of the readymade - and to make a painting, a film, a photograph is to know you are contributing to a form that has been shaped and defined by predecessors. Even the most radical film is a film. But Duchamp did something for which there was no precedent. Love or hate the art that claims him as ancestor, you can't deny the originality of the thought itself, which I suspect was all that mattered to Duchamp. The readymade was a new concept of art, rather than just an ingenious and idle way of making it. No wonder that most serious discussions tend to assimilate it to philosophy, from Richard Wollheim's famous 1965 essay that took the urinal as a paradigm of "minimal art" to more recent ruminations on Duchamp and Kant's aesthetics. But I think we need to stick to the simple problem: how did anyone ever have such a wild idea?
With Tate Modern about to open an exhibition on Duchamp and his friendships with the brilliant playboy painter Francis Picabia and the subversive photographer Man Ray, let's try to imagine a time when no one dreamed of separating art from manual labour.
Duchamp grew up with art. He was born in 1887, the youngest son of a prosperous notary in Blainville, Normandy. Duchamp's grandfather had been an artist even as he prospered in business; there was art in the family and, as well as Marcel, two of his brothers and one of his sisters set their hearts on becoming artists. His brother Gaston was a painter who took the name Jacques Villon in homage to Villon the poet; another brother was Raymond Duchamp-Villon, the important cubist sculptor; his sister Suzanne also struggled to become a painter.
Young Marcel's early paintings were unpromising, ordinary enough to give ammunition to hostile critics who portray him as the original conceptualist fraud, a man who couldn't hack it on talent alone so discovered a wheeze to make "talent" seem unsophisticated. Yet such great painters as Piet Mondrian and Kasimir Malevich had equally weak starts. Like them, Duchamp eventually excelled as a painter, and it was his depiction of a body as a fluttering mechanism, Nude Descending a Staircase No 2 (1912), that made him famous in America when it was shown in the Armory show that popularised modern art in New York in 1913.
Duchamp settled in Paris in 1906 at a moment when decades of courageous experiment by French artists were about to ignite modernism. It was the year Cézanne died, the year Picasso finished his portrait of Gertrude Stein with a carved wooden mask for a face. Duchamp - six years younger than Picasso - was part of the generation who were influenced and inspired by this revolution. His two older brothers lived in the suburb of Paris that gave its name to the Puteaux group, the minor wing of the cubist movement.
Picasso and Georges Braque, the originators of cubism, were relearning the idea of painting with every new canvas. Their cubist paintings are to this day impossible to summarise or to explain away. The Puteaux cubists, by contrast, used shards and planes of fragmented colour to convey the drama of modern life in an easy-to-decode way. Jean Metzinger's 1913 painting The Cyclist, for instance, clearly and iconically portrays a cyclist hunched forward on his racing bike. It's a celebration of the modern world, of the clean-minded technology of the bicycle, and points immediately to the ideas that were in Duchamp's mind when he dreamed up his first "readymade" work of art - a spoked wheel suspended in a metal fork fixed to the seat of a wooden stool. It might be the eye of a cyclops, or an astronomical model, or a bizarre evocation of a nude. You can't help thinking it means something, but interpretation is vain. It just is. It simply stands there in its light-hearted, lovable glory.
Bicycle Wheel was recognised later by Duchamp as his first "readymade", though he hadn't yet come up with the term or finalised the idea. Nor did he think of exhibiting the piece. He just liked to have it in his studio: "To set the wheel turning was very soothing, very comforting, a sort of opening of avenues on other things than the material life of every day ... I enjoyed looking at it, just as I enjoy looking at the flames dancing in a fireplace."
This toy was a step into intellectual realms no one had entered before. And yet, it is so charmingly of its time, celebrating the very machine Metzinger praises in his cubist painting. The long thin spokes and unbending mount of Bicycle Wheel vividly evoke the Paris of 1913: look into those spokes and it's not hard to picture the iron lattices of the Eiffel Tower. A graceful modernity, optimistic and young, is balanced on that stool. And what of the stool itself? It might even make you think of Van Gogh's painting of his wooden chair. Perhaps the walk from Van Gogh's studio to Duchamp's is not so far.
The idea of the readymade seems to have something to do with the idea of the studio as a utopian refuge from the workaday world. In 19th- and early 20th-century France, this idea of the studio was fundamental to the new way of life of the avant garde. You can see it in Cézanne's early painting The Stove in the Studio, and read it in Zola's novel The Masterpiece - this sense of the studio as a hideout where the artist is free to explore non-bourgeois habits and dreams. Picasso's studio in the ramshackle Bateau-Lavoir was a workshop of cubist experiment: photographs of Picasso and other artists of this time in their studios, surrounded by African masks and their unexhibited paintings, depict magic worlds.
In the studio, sex, drink and drugs contributed to a hallucinatory focus on ordinary things that suddenly seemed fascinating. Duchamp's discovery of the readymade is deeply rooted in the cubist obsession with real, tangible, solid things that are close to hand. Picasso and Braque rediscovered one of the oldest and humblest painting genres: the still life. In a cubist masterpiece such as Picasso's Absinthe Glass, Bottle, Pipe and Musical Instruments On a Piano (1910-11), it is the immediate world of objects that is broken and shattered and strained for.
It was actually Picasso who first used found objects in art. In 1912 he stuck a piece of oilcloth, with a printed design imitating a caned chair-seat, on to a cubist canvas. Still Life with Chair Caning gave him and Braque a new weapon in their struggle to give art the force of reality. Duchamp's Bicycle Wheel is a cubist masterpiece, rivalling the complexity and resistance of Picasso's and Braque's art. It belongs recognisably to the Paris of that time, which is even more true of Duchamp's Bottle Dryer (or Bottle Rack) - a spiky metal tower widely used in France to dry used wine bottles.
Yet Duchamp didn't name these objects that he had in his Paris studio as "readymades" until later. Nor did he show them as "art". The "readymade", a word he only ever used in his second language, English, came about when he made the leap from one culture to another. It is an idea found in translation.
In 1915 Duchamp sailed for New York. He felt instantly liberated by America. "For a Frenchman, used to class distinctions, you had the feeling of what a real democracy could be," he later said. Learning a new language set his mind completely free of all influences, to achieve a simple, relaxed revolution quite unconnected with anything in the art of cubism.
In January 1916 he wrote to his sister Suzanne asking her to preserve what he now regarded as two important works left in Paris: "Now if you went up to my place you saw in my studio a bicycle wheel and a bottle rack. I had purchased this as a sculpture already made. And I have an idea concerning this and the bottle rack: Listen. Here in NY I bought some objects in the same vein and I treat them as 'readymade'. You know English well enough to understand the sense of 'readymade' that I gave these objects ..."
In 1915 he saw a pile of snow shovels with big square steel scoops lined up in a shop for the New York winter. He bought one and hung it from the ceiling of his studio. It was inscribed "In Advance of the Broken Arm, from Marcel Duchamp, 1915". This signature was a way of thinking about the readymade as art - it was not by, but "from" the artist. The object - which exists, like most of Duchamp's long-lost readymades, only in replica - is menacing, with its sharp metal edges and title prophesying injury. It is as uncomfortable as the bicycle wheel is likeable. Perhaps this is the art of it - that undeniable atmosphere.
A spikiness of feeling similarly clings to the steel comb that in February 1916 Duchamp inscribed "Three or four drops of height have nothing to do with savagery". In December 1916 he enclosed a hollow ball of twine inside two metal plates and asked his friend and patron Walter Arensberg to hide a small object inside without letting him see; it is called With Hidden Noise. This and the comb survive as originals.
All this was a private game, until in April 1917 Duchamp, Arensberg and the artist Joseph Stella visited the Mott ironworks in New York to purchase a porcelain urinal that would shock the worthies of the Manhattan art world and give Duchamp the opportunity to explain Mr Mutt's philosophy of art: "He CHOSE it ... and created a new thought for that object."
Their fight to raise themselves above the status of mere craftsman has led artists, since the 15th century, to seek to be seen as intellectuals. In the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci typified the artist as thinker. Duchamp identified with Leonardo, a fandom you might not guess from his infamous 1919 "rectified readymade", when he drew a moustache on the Mona Lisa. In all the years during which he was evolving the idea of the readymade, Duchamp was working on an immensely ambitious masterwork, The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even, which involved elaborate research, starting in a Paris library with his reading treatises on perspective. Like Leonardo, he made copious, quasi-scientific notes, many of which he published in The Green Box.
Duchamp's idea of the readymade is the final, triumphant endgame in western art's long campaign to establish the intellectual status of the artist (Duchamp, who officially gave up art to play tournament chess, was an authority on endgames). In this, his predecessors are not just Leonardo, but Sir Joshua Reynolds and all those academicians who insisted that theirs was a mental calling.
And yet, he didn't just select any object and call it art. One of his notes in The Green Box reminds himself to limit his output of readymades. There are not that many. Something connects them all; their meaning and purpose are clear. They are all manufactured objects: he never named a landscape or a natural object as a work of art. He saw art not just anywhere in the stuff of everyday life, but specifically in the capitalist industrialised world. Anthropology was a passion of artists at the beginning of the 20th century, and photos of Duchamp's studio show totems of mass production. They find magic in the modern world, and their key is The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even.
The great work he eventually abandoned as "definitively unfinished" in 1923 is an allegory of virtual desire in a machine world. It imagines two realms, defined by separate glass panels. In the upper panel is the "bride", like a Renaissance Madonna ascending to a paradise supported not by angels but by some kind of metallic insect. Below are the "malic moulds", bachelors who vainly send emanations up towards the object of their desires (or prayers). Duchamp's bachelor machines may be happy enough grinding chocolate, but they will never get the bride.
Richard Hamilton, one of Marcel Duchamp's most profound interpreters, made the copie conforme of The Bride Stripped Bare that is on permanent view at Tate Modern. In their preface to The White Box, an English edition of some of Duchamp's more abstruse notes, Hamilton and his co-translator, Ekke Bonk, compare Duchamp's masterpiece with the magazine Astounding Science Fiction - an idea that helps us understand the idea of the readymade. New York must have struck Duchamp as a spectacle from the future. From Otis elevators and skyscrapers to ultra-modern bathrooms and steel combs, "all the great modern things", as Andy Warhol was to call them, were already in place in America in 1915 while Europe was still struggling free of its ancien régimes. It must be this translation to the future that gave Duchamp his unparalleled intellectual freedom, an alienated liberation familiar to travellers. He sought the estrangement to which his readymades are eerie monuments.
There is not really any other art like his, despite his infamous "influence". He discovered something new; no one can discover it again. The cleverest artist of the 20th century played a great joke on history, for Duchamp, who sanctioned and signed replicas of his works and is the prophet of the simulacrum, is in truth inimitable.
· Duchamp, Man Ray, Picabia is at Tate Modern, London SE1, from February 21 to May 26. Details: 020-7887 8888; tate.org.uk
The object in Tate Modern is white and shiny, cast in porcelain, its slender upper part curving outward as it descends to a receiving bowl - into which I urinate. It's just a brief walk from here in the fifth-floor men's loo to Marcel Duchamp's Fountain, an object sealed in a plastic display case on a plinth that is nevertheless almost identical to the receptacle into which I've just pissed. This museum treasure is no more or less than Duchamp described it to his sister in a letter of spring 1917: une pissotière en porcelaine. Duchamp warned against an attitude of "aesthetic delectation" that would transfigure his urinal into something artistic. Yet, as a visual form, it is bizarrely lovely, so white and incongruously ethereal, and as art it is ... well, there's a question already tripping me up. Is it art?
The eminent New Yorkers who ran the American Society of Independent Artists decided in April 1917 that it wasn't. The Independents congratulated themselves on championing all that was new and progressive in art, and to ensure openness to the new they agreed to the idea of one of their directors, Duchamp himself, that anyone who paid a $6 fee should be able to show in their inaugural exhibition. This meant that technically there were no grounds to refuse the mysterious R Mutt's last-minute entry of a men's urinal entitled Fountain - for he had paid his fee. An emergency meeting nevertheless rejected it.
The next month, a little magazine called The Blind Man, which was co-edited by Duchamp, defended Mr Mutt's Fountain: "Whether Mr Mutt with his own hands made the fountain or not has no importance. He CHOSE it. He took an ordinary article of life, placed it so that its useful significance disappeared under the new title and point of view - and created a new thought for that object."
These words resonate as excitingly, provocatively, philosophically today as they did in the early 20th century. A vast proportion of 21st-century art traces its origins to these words, that pissotière. The editorial in The Blind Man - whose authorship Duchamp never formally acknowledged, any more than he officially owned up to being R Mutt - is actually more important than the urinal itself, which was not his first "readymade" work of art. Rather, it allowed him to make explicit an idea that until then was only a private musing. How did he come up with such a notion?
This, it seems to me, is the question no one asks about Duchamp. His big idea - that any ordinary "readymade" object can be chosen by the artist as a work of art - has sunk so deep into modern culture that he is imagined almost as a biblical prophet, a remote figure of authority. It's as if contemporary art history begins with him. Art is steeped in tradition - today, there is a tradition of the readymade - and to make a painting, a film, a photograph is to know you are contributing to a form that has been shaped and defined by predecessors. Even the most radical film is a film. But Duchamp did something for which there was no precedent. Love or hate the art that claims him as ancestor, you can't deny the originality of the thought itself, which I suspect was all that mattered to Duchamp. The readymade was a new concept of art, rather than just an ingenious and idle way of making it. No wonder that most serious discussions tend to assimilate it to philosophy, from Richard Wollheim's famous 1965 essay that took the urinal as a paradigm of "minimal art" to more recent ruminations on Duchamp and Kant's aesthetics. But I think we need to stick to the simple problem: how did anyone ever have such a wild idea?
With Tate Modern about to open an exhibition on Duchamp and his friendships with the brilliant playboy painter Francis Picabia and the subversive photographer Man Ray, let's try to imagine a time when no one dreamed of separating art from manual labour.
Duchamp grew up with art. He was born in 1887, the youngest son of a prosperous notary in Blainville, Normandy. Duchamp's grandfather had been an artist even as he prospered in business; there was art in the family and, as well as Marcel, two of his brothers and one of his sisters set their hearts on becoming artists. His brother Gaston was a painter who took the name Jacques Villon in homage to Villon the poet; another brother was Raymond Duchamp-Villon, the important cubist sculptor; his sister Suzanne also struggled to become a painter.
Young Marcel's early paintings were unpromising, ordinary enough to give ammunition to hostile critics who portray him as the original conceptualist fraud, a man who couldn't hack it on talent alone so discovered a wheeze to make "talent" seem unsophisticated. Yet such great painters as Piet Mondrian and Kasimir Malevich had equally weak starts. Like them, Duchamp eventually excelled as a painter, and it was his depiction of a body as a fluttering mechanism, Nude Descending a Staircase No 2 (1912), that made him famous in America when it was shown in the Armory show that popularised modern art in New York in 1913.
Duchamp settled in Paris in 1906 at a moment when decades of courageous experiment by French artists were about to ignite modernism. It was the year Cézanne died, the year Picasso finished his portrait of Gertrude Stein with a carved wooden mask for a face. Duchamp - six years younger than Picasso - was part of the generation who were influenced and inspired by this revolution. His two older brothers lived in the suburb of Paris that gave its name to the Puteaux group, the minor wing of the cubist movement.
Picasso and Georges Braque, the originators of cubism, were relearning the idea of painting with every new canvas. Their cubist paintings are to this day impossible to summarise or to explain away. The Puteaux cubists, by contrast, used shards and planes of fragmented colour to convey the drama of modern life in an easy-to-decode way. Jean Metzinger's 1913 painting The Cyclist, for instance, clearly and iconically portrays a cyclist hunched forward on his racing bike. It's a celebration of the modern world, of the clean-minded technology of the bicycle, and points immediately to the ideas that were in Duchamp's mind when he dreamed up his first "readymade" work of art - a spoked wheel suspended in a metal fork fixed to the seat of a wooden stool. It might be the eye of a cyclops, or an astronomical model, or a bizarre evocation of a nude. You can't help thinking it means something, but interpretation is vain. It just is. It simply stands there in its light-hearted, lovable glory.
Bicycle Wheel was recognised later by Duchamp as his first "readymade", though he hadn't yet come up with the term or finalised the idea. Nor did he think of exhibiting the piece. He just liked to have it in his studio: "To set the wheel turning was very soothing, very comforting, a sort of opening of avenues on other things than the material life of every day ... I enjoyed looking at it, just as I enjoy looking at the flames dancing in a fireplace."
This toy was a step into intellectual realms no one had entered before. And yet, it is so charmingly of its time, celebrating the very machine Metzinger praises in his cubist painting. The long thin spokes and unbending mount of Bicycle Wheel vividly evoke the Paris of 1913: look into those spokes and it's not hard to picture the iron lattices of the Eiffel Tower. A graceful modernity, optimistic and young, is balanced on that stool. And what of the stool itself? It might even make you think of Van Gogh's painting of his wooden chair. Perhaps the walk from Van Gogh's studio to Duchamp's is not so far.
The idea of the readymade seems to have something to do with the idea of the studio as a utopian refuge from the workaday world. In 19th- and early 20th-century France, this idea of the studio was fundamental to the new way of life of the avant garde. You can see it in Cézanne's early painting The Stove in the Studio, and read it in Zola's novel The Masterpiece - this sense of the studio as a hideout where the artist is free to explore non-bourgeois habits and dreams. Picasso's studio in the ramshackle Bateau-Lavoir was a workshop of cubist experiment: photographs of Picasso and other artists of this time in their studios, surrounded by African masks and their unexhibited paintings, depict magic worlds.
In the studio, sex, drink and drugs contributed to a hallucinatory focus on ordinary things that suddenly seemed fascinating. Duchamp's discovery of the readymade is deeply rooted in the cubist obsession with real, tangible, solid things that are close to hand. Picasso and Braque rediscovered one of the oldest and humblest painting genres: the still life. In a cubist masterpiece such as Picasso's Absinthe Glass, Bottle, Pipe and Musical Instruments On a Piano (1910-11), it is the immediate world of objects that is broken and shattered and strained for.
It was actually Picasso who first used found objects in art. In 1912 he stuck a piece of oilcloth, with a printed design imitating a caned chair-seat, on to a cubist canvas. Still Life with Chair Caning gave him and Braque a new weapon in their struggle to give art the force of reality. Duchamp's Bicycle Wheel is a cubist masterpiece, rivalling the complexity and resistance of Picasso's and Braque's art. It belongs recognisably to the Paris of that time, which is even more true of Duchamp's Bottle Dryer (or Bottle Rack) - a spiky metal tower widely used in France to dry used wine bottles.
Yet Duchamp didn't name these objects that he had in his Paris studio as "readymades" until later. Nor did he show them as "art". The "readymade", a word he only ever used in his second language, English, came about when he made the leap from one culture to another. It is an idea found in translation.
In 1915 Duchamp sailed for New York. He felt instantly liberated by America. "For a Frenchman, used to class distinctions, you had the feeling of what a real democracy could be," he later said. Learning a new language set his mind completely free of all influences, to achieve a simple, relaxed revolution quite unconnected with anything in the art of cubism.
In January 1916 he wrote to his sister Suzanne asking her to preserve what he now regarded as two important works left in Paris: "Now if you went up to my place you saw in my studio a bicycle wheel and a bottle rack. I had purchased this as a sculpture already made. And I have an idea concerning this and the bottle rack: Listen. Here in NY I bought some objects in the same vein and I treat them as 'readymade'. You know English well enough to understand the sense of 'readymade' that I gave these objects ..."
In 1915 he saw a pile of snow shovels with big square steel scoops lined up in a shop for the New York winter. He bought one and hung it from the ceiling of his studio. It was inscribed "In Advance of the Broken Arm, from Marcel Duchamp, 1915". This signature was a way of thinking about the readymade as art - it was not by, but "from" the artist. The object - which exists, like most of Duchamp's long-lost readymades, only in replica - is menacing, with its sharp metal edges and title prophesying injury. It is as uncomfortable as the bicycle wheel is likeable. Perhaps this is the art of it - that undeniable atmosphere.
A spikiness of feeling similarly clings to the steel comb that in February 1916 Duchamp inscribed "Three or four drops of height have nothing to do with savagery". In December 1916 he enclosed a hollow ball of twine inside two metal plates and asked his friend and patron Walter Arensberg to hide a small object inside without letting him see; it is called With Hidden Noise. This and the comb survive as originals.
All this was a private game, until in April 1917 Duchamp, Arensberg and the artist Joseph Stella visited the Mott ironworks in New York to purchase a porcelain urinal that would shock the worthies of the Manhattan art world and give Duchamp the opportunity to explain Mr Mutt's philosophy of art: "He CHOSE it ... and created a new thought for that object."
Their fight to raise themselves above the status of mere craftsman has led artists, since the 15th century, to seek to be seen as intellectuals. In the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci typified the artist as thinker. Duchamp identified with Leonardo, a fandom you might not guess from his infamous 1919 "rectified readymade", when he drew a moustache on the Mona Lisa. In all the years during which he was evolving the idea of the readymade, Duchamp was working on an immensely ambitious masterwork, The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even, which involved elaborate research, starting in a Paris library with his reading treatises on perspective. Like Leonardo, he made copious, quasi-scientific notes, many of which he published in The Green Box.
Duchamp's idea of the readymade is the final, triumphant endgame in western art's long campaign to establish the intellectual status of the artist (Duchamp, who officially gave up art to play tournament chess, was an authority on endgames). In this, his predecessors are not just Leonardo, but Sir Joshua Reynolds and all those academicians who insisted that theirs was a mental calling.
And yet, he didn't just select any object and call it art. One of his notes in The Green Box reminds himself to limit his output of readymades. There are not that many. Something connects them all; their meaning and purpose are clear. They are all manufactured objects: he never named a landscape or a natural object as a work of art. He saw art not just anywhere in the stuff of everyday life, but specifically in the capitalist industrialised world. Anthropology was a passion of artists at the beginning of the 20th century, and photos of Duchamp's studio show totems of mass production. They find magic in the modern world, and their key is The Bride Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors, Even.
The great work he eventually abandoned as "definitively unfinished" in 1923 is an allegory of virtual desire in a machine world. It imagines two realms, defined by separate glass panels. In the upper panel is the "bride", like a Renaissance Madonna ascending to a paradise supported not by angels but by some kind of metallic insect. Below are the "malic moulds", bachelors who vainly send emanations up towards the object of their desires (or prayers). Duchamp's bachelor machines may be happy enough grinding chocolate, but they will never get the bride.
Richard Hamilton, one of Marcel Duchamp's most profound interpreters, made the copie conforme of The Bride Stripped Bare that is on permanent view at Tate Modern. In their preface to The White Box, an English edition of some of Duchamp's more abstruse notes, Hamilton and his co-translator, Ekke Bonk, compare Duchamp's masterpiece with the magazine Astounding Science Fiction - an idea that helps us understand the idea of the readymade. New York must have struck Duchamp as a spectacle from the future. From Otis elevators and skyscrapers to ultra-modern bathrooms and steel combs, "all the great modern things", as Andy Warhol was to call them, were already in place in America in 1915 while Europe was still struggling free of its ancien régimes. It must be this translation to the future that gave Duchamp his unparalleled intellectual freedom, an alienated liberation familiar to travellers. He sought the estrangement to which his readymades are eerie monuments.
There is not really any other art like his, despite his infamous "influence". He discovered something new; no one can discover it again. The cleverest artist of the 20th century played a great joke on history, for Duchamp, who sanctioned and signed replicas of his works and is the prophet of the simulacrum, is in truth inimitable.
· Duchamp, Man Ray, Picabia is at Tate Modern, London SE1, from February 21 to May 26. Details: 020-7887 8888; tate.org.uk
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Art:21 - Art in the Twenty-First Century | Season 4 Trailer
Art:21-Art in the Twenty-First Century is the only primetime national television series in the US to focus exclusively on contemporary art and artists. Through in-depth profiles and interviews, the series
reveals the inspiration, vision and techniques behind the creative works of some of today's most accomplished contemporary artists.
Art:21 | Kara Walker
Kara Walker's work explores the raw intersection of race, gender, and sexuality through iconic, silhouetted figures. Walker unleashes the traditionally Victorian medium of the silhouette directly onto the walls of the gallery. In recent works, the Walker uses overhead projectors to throw light onto the walls and floor of the exhibition space, implicating the audience through their own shadows.
Kara Walker's is featured in the Season 2 episode "Stories" of the Art21 series "Art:21 -- Art in the Twenty-First Century".
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Martin Kippenberger: The Problem Perspective, on view at MoMA
March 1, 2009-May 11, 2009 For more information please visit http://www.moma.org/visit/c... Audio courtesy of Acoustiguide © 2009 MoMA The Museum of Modern Art, New York
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Human Mirror
From http://www.ImprovEverywhere.com, 15 pairs of twins create a human mirror on a New York subway car.
Be sure to click "watch in high quality"!!!!
Edited by Matt Adams:
http://www.mattadamsapple.com/
Song by Tyler Walker:
http://myspace.com/tylerichiban
This is one of over 70 different missions Improv Everywhere has executed over the past six years in New York City. Others include Frozen Grand Central, the Best Buy uniform prank, and the famous U2 Rooftop Hoax, to name a few. Visit the website to see tons of photos and video of all of our work, including behind the scenes information on how this video was made.
http://www.improveverywhere.com
If you are interested in getting involved in New York you can sign the NY Agents List on the site. If you are interested in getting involved in your own town, join the Urban Prankster Network here: http://improveverywhere.ning.com
Be the first to find out about the next video we create by subscribing to our YouTube channel: http://youtube.com/subscription_cente...
RSS feed: http://www.improveverywhere.com/feed
You can also join our Facebook group:
http://www.new.facebook.com/pages/Imp...
Category: Comedy
Subway Art Gallery Opening
From http://improveverywhere.com/, 50 Improv Everywhere agents create and art gallery opening on a subway platform.
Be sure to click "watch in high quality"!!!!
Edited by Matt Adams:
http://www.mattadamsapple.com/
Music by Erin Hall:
http://www.erinandhercello.com
This is one of over 80 different missions Improv Everywhere has executed over the past seven years in New York City. Others include Frozen Grand Central, the Best Buy uniform prank, and the famous U2 Rooftop Hoax, to name a few. Visit the website to see tons of photos and video of all of our work, including behind the scenes information on how this video was made.
http://www.improveverywhere.com
If you are interested in getting involved in New York you can sign the NY Agents List on the site. If you are interested in getting involved in your own town, join the Urban Prankster Network here: http://improveverywhere.ning.com
Be the first to find out about the next video we create by subscribing to our YouTube channel: http://youtube.com/subscription_cente...
RSS feed: http://www.improveverywhere.com/feed
You can also join our Facebook group:
http://www.new.facebook.com/pages/Imp...
We have a DVD for sale!
http://www.improveverywhere.com/dvd/
Category: Comedy
Tags: ImprovEverywhere Improv Everywhere Subway Platform NYC Art Gallery Opening funny prank
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Cairn_Song
found footage project 2, using clips from Andy Goldsworthy documentary and a clip from a video found in my house mates vid collection. Music by Meredith Monk, "Boat Song"
River and Tides (extraits 2)
A clip from the beautiful documentary on Andy Goldsworthy, "Rivers and Tides". If you enjoy this clip, please support his work by purchasing the dvd. In this clip he builds a sculpture out of driftwood and watches as the tide takes it out to sea. This is a good example of his wonderful work with time.
Rivers and Tides
A clip from the beautiful documentary on Andy Goldsworthy, "Rivers and Tides". If you enjoy this clip, please support his work by purchasing the dvd. In this clip he builds a sculpture out of driftwood and watches as the tide takes it out to sea. This is a good example of his wonderful work with time.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Ovation TV | Jackson Pollock
This OVATION original documentary follows his life, beginning with his Depression-era days working for the WPA through the optimism and Cold War paranoia that laced the 1950s. Pollock's relationships with both Ernest Hemingway and Pablo Picasso are explored. Archival footage, including Hans Namuth's famous cinematic rendering of the artist at work, is coupled with archival photos of Pollock's time, when atom bombs stunned the world, Kerouac addressed the Beat Generation and jazz permeated the airwaves.
With a mission to "Make Life Creative," Ovation TV is a multiplatform network focused on entertaining, inspiring and engaging the artist in all of us by offering original and acquired programming focused on art, culture and personal creativity. The network is distributed via cable, satellite and telco, and is complemented with its popular broadband website (www.OvationTV.com).
Pollock painting (1950)
It will work better using a SMALL SCREEN FORMAT. A fragment (going on a loop) of the film of Jackson Pollock painting - shot by Hans Namuth (1950) and released as "Jackson Pollock 51" (1951). Sound...
Chuck Close
A discussion with Chuck Close, Vincent Katz, and Matthew von Unwerth about the film "Chuck Close," directed by Marion Cajori
Monday, March 2, 2009
Dan Perjovschi, WHAT HAPPENED TO US?, at MoMA (Part 2)
In his first solo museum show in the United States, contemporary artist Dan Perjovschi creates site-specific wall drawings at The Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Perjovschi, who lives and works in Bucharest, Romania, makes witty and incisive social and political images in response to current events. His work has been featured in Biennials from Venice to Istanbul to Moscow.
Projects 85: Dan Perjovschi, WHAT HAPPENED TO US?, is on view at The Museum of Modern Art from May 2 through August 27, 2007.
For more information on the exhibition, please visit http://www.moma.org/exhibitions/exhib...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Color Field Exhibit
The Color Field movement is a painting style from the 1950s characterized by large areas of color. A large cross-section was eecently on display in Washington
Ackland Art Museum: A glimpse of Circa 1958
As the Ackland Art Museum celebrates it's 50th year, it hosts one of its most extensive exhibitions. Director Emily Kass discuses this exhibition that showcases contemporary art. Artists like Warhol, Yoko Ono and Kenneh Noland are showcased. Visit www.dailytarheel.com for the high-quality version of this video and more DTH coverage.
Art credits
Kenneth Noland, American, born 1924: That, 1958-59; oil on canvas, 83 x 83 inches. Collection of David Mirvish, Toronto. Art @ Kenneth Noland/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY
Morris Louis, American, 1912 1962: Theta Beta, 1960; acrylic resin paint on canvas, 104 5/8 x 233 ½ inches. Ackland Art Museum, Gift of Marcella Louis Brenner. ©1993 Marcella Louis Brenner.
John Chamberlain, American, born 1927: Nutcracker, 1958; painted steel, 47 x 39 x 30 inches. Private Collection, courtesy Allan Stone Gallery, New York. © John Chamberlain /Artist Rights Society (ARS), New York
Yoko Ono: Painting to Hammer a Nail, 1961/1966; painted wood panel, nails, painted hammer, chain; 13 ¾ x 10 ½ x 4 ½ in. Realized according to the artist's instructions; with permission of the artist. © Yoko Ono
link to video
Janis Goodman and Peter Winant discuss this exhibition which showcases abstract compositions by Washington, D.C. based artist Morris Louis. Morris' works feature a staining technique which is now known as "color field painting."
http://www.weta.org/video/individual/Morris+Louis+Now
Join Diane Upright on the opening day of the Morris Louis Now exhibition as she shares her perspectives on the artist.
Janis Goodman and Peter Winant discuss this exhibition which showcases abstract compositions by Washington, D.C. based artist Morris Louis. Morris' works feature a staining technique which is now known as "color field painting."
http://www.weta.org/video/individual/Morris+Louis+Now
Join Diane Upright on the opening day of the Morris Louis Now exhibition as she shares her perspectives on the artist.
Morris LouisBuskin
(1959)
(1959)
Morris Louis (Morris Louis Bernstein) was one of the talented U.S. abstract expressionist painters to emerge in the fifties. From 1929 to 1933, he studied at the Maryland Institute of Fine and Applied Arts on a scholarship, but left shortly before completing the program. He worked at various odd jobs to support himself while painting and in 1935 served as president of the Baltimore Artists’ Association. From 1936 to 1940, Louis lived in New York, where he worked in the easel division of the WPA Federal Art Project. During this period, he knew Arshile Gorky, David Alfaro Siqueiros, and Jack Tworkov. He also dropped his last name.
He returned to Baltimore in 1940 and taught privately. In 1948, he started to use Magna acrylic paints. In 1952, Louis moved to Washington, D.C. Living in Washington, D.C., somewhat apart from the New York scene and working almost in isolation, he and a group of artists that included Kenneth Noland were central to the development of Color Field painting. The basic point about Louis's work and that of other Color Field painters, in contrast to most of the other new approaches of the sixties, is that they continued a tradition of painting exemplified by Pollock, Newman, Still, Motherwell, and Reinhardt. All of these artists were concerned with the classic problems of pictorial space and the statement of the picture plane.In 1953, he and Noland visited Helen Frankenthaler’s New York studio, where they saw and were greatly impressed by her stain painting Mountains and Sea (1952). Upon their return to Washington, Louis and Noland together experimented with various techniques of paint application. Louis characteristically applied extremely runny paint to an unstretched canvas, allowing it to flow over the inclined surface in effects sometimes suggestive of translucent color veils. The importance of Frankenthaler's example in Louis's development of this technique has been noted. However, even more so than Frankenthaler, Louis eliminated the brush gesture, although the flat, thin pigment is at times modulated in billowing tonal waves. His "veil" paintings consist of bands of brilliant, curving color-shapes submerged in translucent washes through which they emerge principally at the edges. Although subdued, the resulting color is immensely rich, In another formula, the artist used long parallel strips of pure color arranged side by side in rainbow effects.
He destroyed many of the paintings in this show but resumed work on the Veils in 1958–59. These were followed by Florals and Columns (1960), Unfurleds (1960–61)—in which rivulets of more opaque, intense color flow from both sides of large white fields—and the Stripe paintings (1961–62). Louis died in Washington, D.C., on September 7, 1962. A memorial exhibition of his work was held at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, in 1963. Major Louis exhibitions were also organized by the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in 1967 and the National Collection of Fine Arts, Washington, D.C., in 1976.
He returned to Baltimore in 1940 and taught privately. In 1948, he started to use Magna acrylic paints. In 1952, Louis moved to Washington, D.C. Living in Washington, D.C., somewhat apart from the New York scene and working almost in isolation, he and a group of artists that included Kenneth Noland were central to the development of Color Field painting. The basic point about Louis's work and that of other Color Field painters, in contrast to most of the other new approaches of the sixties, is that they continued a tradition of painting exemplified by Pollock, Newman, Still, Motherwell, and Reinhardt. All of these artists were concerned with the classic problems of pictorial space and the statement of the picture plane.In 1953, he and Noland visited Helen Frankenthaler’s New York studio, where they saw and were greatly impressed by her stain painting Mountains and Sea (1952). Upon their return to Washington, Louis and Noland together experimented with various techniques of paint application. Louis characteristically applied extremely runny paint to an unstretched canvas, allowing it to flow over the inclined surface in effects sometimes suggestive of translucent color veils. The importance of Frankenthaler's example in Louis's development of this technique has been noted. However, even more so than Frankenthaler, Louis eliminated the brush gesture, although the flat, thin pigment is at times modulated in billowing tonal waves. His "veil" paintings consist of bands of brilliant, curving color-shapes submerged in translucent washes through which they emerge principally at the edges. Although subdued, the resulting color is immensely rich, In another formula, the artist used long parallel strips of pure color arranged side by side in rainbow effects.
He destroyed many of the paintings in this show but resumed work on the Veils in 1958–59. These were followed by Florals and Columns (1960), Unfurleds (1960–61)—in which rivulets of more opaque, intense color flow from both sides of large white fields—and the Stripe paintings (1961–62). Louis died in Washington, D.C., on September 7, 1962. A memorial exhibition of his work was held at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, in 1963. Major Louis exhibitions were also organized by the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in 1967 and the National Collection of Fine Arts, Washington, D.C., in 1976.
Morris Louis
Morris Louis (1912-1962), American abstract painter, the main pioneer of color-stain, or color-field, painting. He was born Morris Louis Bernstein in Baltimore, Maryland, and studied painting at the Maryland Institute of Fine and Applied Arts in Baltimore from 1929 to 1933. Louis originally worked in a late cubist manner, but after visiting the studio of Helen Frankenthaler in 1953, he was heavily influenced by her method of painting without brushes—by staining raw canvas with poured acrylic paint. His Veil series (1954 and 1957-1960) uses thin washes of paint to create translucent curtains of color on the canvas; one example from this series is Tet (1958, Whitney Museum of American Art, New York City). In the summer of 1959 Louis began a number of experiments with this painting technique. In the series Florals, he used heavier paint in more haphazard bursts in Alephs, areas of pigment radiate out from the center. In Columns,Omegas, and Japanese Banners, large portions of the canvases remain unstained. These experiments resulted in the Unfurled series (1960-1961), in which thin brilliant streams of color flow across the lower corners of otherwise empty canvases, as in Beta Upsilon (1960, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C.). In his next series, the Stripe series (1961-1962), colored bands are juxtaposed vertically or horizontally; one example is Third Element (1962, Museum of Modern Art, New York).
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Joan Mitchell
Artiste Joan Mitchell
Titre La ligne de la rupture
Média oil on canvas
Taille 112 x 79 in. / 284,5 x 200,7 cm.
Année
1970 - 1971
Description
signéhuile sur toilePeint en 1970-71.
Divers
Signed
Vente de
Sotheby's Paris: Monday, May 26, 2008[Lot 15]Contemporary Art
Joan Mitchell was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1925 and died in a Paris suburb in 1992. Her expatriate years began in the late 1950s and continued uninterrupted until her passing in Vetheuil, France. She occupied a celebrated stature in the generation that succeeded Pollock and Rothko. She declined the theoreticism of her European counterparts, and remained throughout her career the empirical American, personally accountable for her memories and emotions. Her work is characterized in many developments from the 1950s to the early 90s shortly prior to her passing. She usually worked on multiple panels or large scale canvases - striving to attract a natural rather than constructed rhythm from the composition, a rhythm emanating from the expansiveness of the gesture or from the unrestrained use of color and the pervasive luminosity. The titles of her last paintings suggest the abstract valleys and empirical fields of her beloved French countryside. In speaking of Mitchell, others tell us of her physical materiality - how she exudes the visual sentiments of nature - the objectivity of her painting, devoid of anecdote or theater and in her own words "to convey the feeling of the dying sunflower." Joan Mitchell as an abstract expressionist composes with long curvilinear strokes or broad stains of color, contrasting warm and cool, often on unprimed canvases. Her perceptions enrich her work with a fascinating sense of the unfinished. Joan Mitchell demonstrated in painting just as in life, anything can happen.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
How it feels to have a stroke
http://www.ted.com Neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor had an opportunity few brain scientists would wish for: One morning, she realized she was having a massive stroke. As it happened -- as she felt...
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
LIVING SKETCHBOOK ™ — Perspective in Action!
This short movie demonstrates to what extent perspective plays a critical role in visual expression. In fact, there is practically no escaping it!
Art Series Episode5: Upside Down Drawing
Today's episode teaches you how to draw upside down and force a cognitive shift from the left side of the brain to the right side. Since the drawing is upside down your left brain can't make sense of the drawing and so you're brain shifts to the right side to make sense of the drawing. This is an example from Betty Edward's book "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain." which is out there in book stores for anyone interested in buying this book. This video is here merely to inform readers about the book that's all.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Nude Sculptures of Marton Varo
A short documentary of Marton Varo's exquisite sculptures of the female nude.
work in progress - ballerina sculptures
same clips from work in progress of modeling the series of ballerina sculptures
Symphony in Clay II
Master sculptor Peter Rubino turns 250lbs of clay into a monumental bust of Beethoven in 20 minutes - choreographed to the 5th Symphony...unique performance and amazing to see live
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