Cezanne and Cheesesteak

A few weeks ago now I went to Philadelphia with friends to see the Cezanne exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The only place in Philly that I'd ever spent any time was the train station so when a friend said asked me if I wanted to join them on their trip down I jumped at the chance. 

You couldn't have asked for a better day to see a new city either--the weather was absolutely gorgeous. You could, however, ask for slightly better planning on our part. By the time we got to the museum the earliest available tickets to the Cezanne exhibit were for around 4:00. Which was pretty much the time we were planning on leaving Philly. Oops.

We spent the morning wandering around the museum--which is fantastic and worth the trip on its own--and then took a break from the high culture stuff by getting cheesesteaks for lunch. These places--Pat's and Geno's--had been featured on a TV show (I didn't see it) and are right across the street from each other. So we had to try both in a not-terribly-formal taste test. 

Pat's is the very old-school, no-frills looking place:

Geno's is all bright orange and neon:

Never having had a cheesesteak before that day (or cheez wiz for that matter) I'm not at all qualified to judge. But if I were to go back, I'd probably go to Pat's.

After we'd finished eating it was finally time to go back to the museum and actually get in line at the art museum for the Cezanne exhibit. The long line.

Happily it was a good enough exhibit to make that worthwhile. I'd seen paintings by Cezanne before, of course, and liked them well enough but I can't say I'd ever given him much thought or considered how he might have influenced other artists. But this show did a great--if extremely literal--job of illustrating his influence on later artists, some of whom appear at first glance to be very different from him. And was just the right length. Sometimes these art shows are so long that you're just dead on your feet at the end. This one felt complete without taking you to that point. And had a very good audio guide to boot. Totally worth seeing.

44 Places to Go

BuffaloPundit points out that Buffalo made the New York Times list of places to go in 2009. Naturally I went to see what they had to say. In part:

With the exception of senatorial hopefuls, many New Yorkers write off the rest of the Empire State as a cultural hinterland. But the chilly rustbelt city of Buffalo now has something to thrill cultural junkies other than its scattered specimens of pioneering early 20th-century architecture: the Burchfield Penney Art Center.

It then goes on to talk about the Burchfield Penney's Buffalo-centric collection. It's great to see the museum get the attention, but it's also a funny write-up.

I went to the new Burchfield Penney when I was in Buffalo for the holidays. I say "new" because the museum has in fact existed--first as the Charles Burchfield Center, then as the Burchfield Art Center, and finally as the Burchfield Penney Art Center--since the 60s. It's the building which is new, not the Center, although you wouldn't get that impression from the Times mention. Still, it's very nice and by all accounts a huge improvement. And don't get me wrong, I think the new Burchfield Penney is a lovely addition for Buffalo and totally worth seeing.
But it doesn't suddenly turn Buffalo into destination travel. And, while the New York Times makes it sound like it's such a great thing that Buffalo can now include, when they couldn't previously, a nice art museum in it's collection of tourist-worthy sites, that makes for strange reading, because it's not even the best art museum in the city. That would be the art museum, oh I don't know, right across the street. Also not a new museum. (Although it could use some new building space as well).

That's not to take away from the Burchfield Penney or their pretty (on the inside) new building. I'm just saying that Buffalo wasn't any more or less a cultural hinterland before it was built than it is now. Still, it's nice for the city to be on a places-to-go list with the likes of Vienna and the Red Sea, I'm sure. If nothing else, it's a much cheaper trip.

At the Whitney

I met up with a friend at the Whitney Sunday because she wanted to see the Calder exhibit and I wanted to see the Eggleston exhibit. I was somewhat familiar with Calder's mobiles, which were interesting but my least favorite part of the exhibit, and his wire sculptures. Although I'd only seen the ones that are portraits of people and it was his animals that I loved.

The best part of the exhibit by far though, was the video of his witty, clever Circus. A video with clips:


My favorite part of the video isn't in this clip though. A knife thrower comes out and throws knives at a woman standing in front of a curtain. Eventually one of the knives hits the assistant knocking her down. Two little stretcher-bearers trundle out, and the woman is carried off on the stretcher.

I liked the Eggleston exhibit although I thought it was a bit variable. His color photos, with their intense hues, are more interesting than his black and white shots. There was a room full of posed portraits which seemed far less evocative than his more snapshot-like photos. His pictures of the South though, drenched in color and atmosphere, are worth the price of admission. Looking at them is like looking at the world through someone else's eyes: at once familiar and deeply alien. (NYT slideshow here)

Not going to lie though, my dinner of an open faced sandwich with cheese and asparagus, hot chocolate, and apple tart was the best part of the day. Winter always makes me want to eat particularly good food and since I don't really cook and am trying to save money by not eating out, I haven't been doing much of that. I'm totally counting down the days to the time I'm back in Buffalo, eating my mother's food. 

Superheros at the Met

When I was younger I read comics constantly. My dad had this great collection of comics from back when the women in comics looked like this:

not like this:

and would therefore have been spared crippling back pain. One of the many things that led me to stop reading comics was the fact that I would look at the costumes and bodies of these women and think, "wow, I'm really not the target audience for this am I?" Granted, a more significant reason was the crappy writing and plotting, but the art was definitely a problem as well. Still, I have an abiding interest in the comic book superhero and his/her place in pop culture so I was totally excited about going to see the Met Costume Institute's exhibition, Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy.

The exhibition was simultaneously interesting and disappointing. It was fun to see the costumes from various movies, including the recent Iron Man and some of the fashion displayed was interesting to look at. But it wasn't what I was hoping for. Most of the fashion on exhibit was very literal in the way it used the superhero influences. The pieces mostly looked like costumes, not clothing. I would have liked to see more subtle, wearable influences. It would have made a better case for cross-pollination between superhero comics and fashion and the place of superheroes--or rather the place of ideas about superheroes--within our culture. As is it just seems like a fun chance to display some interesting costumes.

New Museum

This post was written Sunday but I didn't post it and I can't be bothered to go back and change the references. Anyway, I went to the New Museum on Saturday.

This week has been one of big decision: blog or play Zuma, eat or play Zuma, go out or play Zuma. Anyway, today has turned cold and nasty and I was planning to go to a CardioSculpt class at the gym but I think I'll just hide in my apartment instead and order delivery from Yummy House. We've actually closed the windows which is not a normal winter action in Casa Paper Boats because building management cranks the heat up something wicked.

Anyway, yesterday it was much nicer out, although a touch rainy, so I went to see the New Museum which has recently moved to Bowery in a pretty eye-catching new building. I was a bit hesitant because while there is certainly is contemporary art that I like, I tend to have an aversion to work that seems far more focused on the concept than aesthetics or craftsmanship and it looked to me like this show would be pretty heavy on that. Which is was. It's not that I'm not interested in concept but I also don't think that it should automatically be favored over being visually interesting and appealing or finely crafted. And more often than not I think the concept is fairly inane or cliche and/or could better be expressed through another medium. And then what are you left with?

Backtracking though. I really like the building from the outside. It's unique and modern looking but at the same time they've done a great job of making it fit on the Bowery. The appearance, particularly from a slight distance, is both gritty and quite beautiful (and I totally love the "Hell, yes!"). The inside is wonderful for displaying art, with large open rooms, skylights, and a rawness that doesn't distract from the art.

After buying my ticket and checking my coat, I took the steps up to the 7th floor where they have an observatory with a "panoramic view" open on weekends. Now, it's neither the most scenic of locations nor the most scenic time of year, but a room with a view is a room with a view.

I then stopped in to look at the education center on the 5th floor but I wasn't sure what that was all about. It looked like they were showing what was on exhibit on other contemporary art museums around the world.

In a stroke of luck, I ran into a free tour just beginning and tagged along with that. Listening in on the tour gave me a chance to hear a bit about both the building and the current exhibit, "Unmonumental." We stopped to look at some things on the tour that I really enjoyed and some things that I really didn't. The clump of buoys hanging together? I tried to understand and appreciate, truly, but I failed pretty utterly. I mean, I open to being convinced otherwise, but I had a hard time understanding how the connection between what the tour guide told us about the artist and the artwork itself made it much more than a bunch of scavenged buoys. Setting that aside though, there were several artists whose work I really enjoyed so I'd like to mention a couple of them here.

For me, the movement and grace of Myth Monolith elevate it above a collection of seating and into a much more enjoyable piece of art. There's a lovely balance to it and your eye moves naturally from one end, up over the arch, to the other end. The texture and pattern of the various chairs creates visual interest as does the complex shadow the structure casts on the wall.

I'm also interested in how this piece works with the "Unmonumental" theme. When you look at it you automatically think of other arches, from the Gateway Arch in St. Louis to the Arc de Triomphe to--this being New York City--the arch in Washington Square Park. The form itself is monumental and has been used to memorialize greatness for millenia, and yet Marc Andre Robinson is using it to create a work of art that is both small and domestic. And yet, this arch too has a memorial quality, in that it is made up of materials that once served a different purpose. They're chairs that perhaps once stood in someone's living room or beside their kitchen table, that cats once curled up on or that were tilted onto their back legs by the people sitting on them. There's a history there and the chairs carry that history into their new form. But they don't do so in a permanent manner. Instead of stone and steel he is using wood and cloth, things that are no longer doing what they were meant to do and have instead taken on a transitory quality. Anyway, I'm not sure quite what to make of it but I do think it's very interesting.

Whew, I think I just wiped out my critical capacity right there. I'm tempted to just mention the next artist and say, "his work was my favorite," and leave it at that. You guys, I'd be such a shitty critic.

My favorite work in the exhibit was Matthew Monahan's, whose pieces actually do have a bit of a monumental quality to them. Liberator's Retreat, at right, looks quite solid from the front with its larger than life size, the broad torso, long arms, and heavy head.

Like Robinson, though, Monahan is taking a monumental form and subverting it. The monumental quality is undermined by both the materials--wax, wood, styrofoam?--and the fractured grotesqueness that he incorporates into the work. It has bit of a Frankenstein's monster feel to it, no? From the back the seeming solidity of the figure disappears and it seems quite frail, held together with bits of wood. While I don't want to read to much into it, it seems to me the work makes a point about the illusion of immortality in monumental work. Monuments, in honoring a person or place or event, seek to memorialize them for posterity. We build them to last "forever" and in return they tidily allow us to write a certain kind of history and remember things a certain way. Monahan's works in this exhibit seem to call that practice into question.

There were several other pieces I saw and found fascinating, although I was so hungry by the end of my visit that I did rush through a bit more than I would have liked. I think it's a show that's well worth going to and if you're in the New York City area you should give it a look-see.

On a sidenote, while stealing some of these images from a The Showbuzz slideshow, I happened across a picture of Sean Avery at the opening of the new building. Seriously, it's bad enough that I have to see that loathsome scuzzball play hockey from time to time, I really don't need him mixed in with my art viewing as well. I mean, that's just nauseating.

Mythic Creatures: Dragons, Unicorns, and Mermaids

Wendy and I had been planning to go to beach today but the weather prediction was rain, so we went to the Museum of Natural History with Kir and Joe instead. As it turned out, it was an absolutely beautiful day, but we had a nice time at the museum so it's all good.

The admission is suggested at the museum although unlike at the Met they don't actually tell you that when you're purchasing--let that be a lesson for anyone who doesn't read the small print on the signs. Unlike the Met, they do charge for all the special exhibits and they charge quite a bit. Which is bullshit. I mean, it's fine if you're a tourist I suppose, but if you're going somewhat regularly, you certainly don't want to pay it. As if the annoyance of paying $16 to see one exhibit in a museum wasn't enough, we were stuck behind that particular breed of annoying tourist that really annoys me. They don't decide what they're going to actually buy tickets to until they get up to the front of the line and then they want to know things like, "so the imax show is forty-two minutes?"

We went to the Hall of Human Evolution and saw what we hadn't seen last time around. I can only imagine how many little creationist heads have exploded due to this exhibit. While the first section is about the physical evolution of Homo Sapiens, the second section of the hall is about brain development. It talks about the development of language and music, the use of tools, etc. They did a really nice job of the whole exhibit I think.

Anyway, we wandered around, got something to eat, and then headed up to the Mythic Creatures exhibit at about 4:15 (our ticket time was 4:30). The exhibit opens with a little turn around the corner and suddenly there's a dragon. I would have loved that when I was a kid. Wendy and I aren't quick museum people to begin with, but given that we had to pay, we figured we'd read every damn word in the exhibit. We didn't actually get to do that because the museum was closing and we had to rush through the end of the earth section and the air section, but we still got to see an awful lot of stuff.

The exhibit is divided into three sections: water, earth, and air. Each one talks about the mythological creatures supposedly found there, the different variations found in different locations and over time, and where these myths might have originated. It's actually fascinating stuff. They cover everything from the Kappa, who can be defeated by bowing, to a kind of bigfoot-type creature in China who faints with happiness when he catches a human--then wakes up and eats him. I love a monster that faints. Also, upon reading this, Wendy told me about the Fainting Goat (seriously, it actually exists) and anything that leads to my learning about fainting animals is pretty much awesome.

The whole exhibit does a good job creating a sort of magical feeling. Whenever the museum created new halls or exhibits they do a good job of putting in tactile and interactive stuff, which I don't remember them having when I was little. There were little images of bones you could move around with a magnet, transforming a mammoth skeleton into a giant, and you could make your own dragons, and giant squid tentacles around the water part of the exhibit (not giant whale cool but still pretty neat).

I almost wish they'd covered still more mythological creatures. Yes, that's right, I wanted the exhibit to be longer. I also recommend showing bits of so-terrible-they're-good movies involving mythological creatures. For example, you could show parts of Clash of the Titans near the statue of Pegasus or in the part of the exhibit about the Kraken. You simply cannot tell me that Clash of the Titans would not make any museum exhibit fabulous. The museum should totally hire me. I'm full of good ideas. I bet my high school Latin teacher who used to plug in her curling iron and curl her hair during class would dig that one.

Despite the lack of cheesy movies based on Greek myths it was a great exhibit that we all enjoyed. So yay for Kir deciding to go and inviting Wendy and I along.

The Weekend

I had a killer allergy attack last night and then got wrapped up with doing eight loads of laundry. Fun, no? Also, I just got a new glasses prescription a few months ago but I think my vision has continued to go downhill at an alarming rate. The problem with working at a computer I suppose, but I'm very concerned about it.

It seems we've be launched directly from wintery weather to summer, which is unfortunate because while I love spring, I;m not a big fan of summer. It was nice on Saturday, as I went to a picnic in Central Park and ate all kinds of good food while jealously watching people playing with their dogs. A nice afternoon.

Wendy and I also went to go see the new hall of Human Origins at the Museum of Natural History, but we only had enough time to see half of it, so we'll have to go back some other time. In addition to giving creationists fits, it actually looks really nice. It's so strange to go there and see exhibits that don't look like they were made in the '70s. Not unlike the Hall of Ocean Life they've spruced up the dioramas nicely. They've also added interactive stuff and things you can touch. I probably would have like that hall more when I was little if it looked like it does now. Although lets face it, when you're little, you're totally in it for the dinosaurs, the giant whale, and the dino-shaped fries in the cafeteria.

Apparently Wendy's childhood visits also included long hours spent at the gemstones exhibit. This is what happens when your parents are former geologists, I suppose. For me, the gemstone exhibit was mostly notable for the carpeted benches (like I said, very '70s) and the fact that we would always go see the Star of India. This visit always brought on the story how my PopPop recovered it when it was stolen, and was on the television because of it. Hey, it's my family's one and only claim to...well, not fame, but some proximity to an event of national interest, so it's going to get rehashed a time or six. Someday, I'll probably be lugging my children for through the museum and telling them, "You're great-grandfather..."

But anyway, enough with the nostalgia, which you probably don't share unless you too made numerous childhood trips to the museum. My point was,: neat exhibit, will have to go back to see the rest.

Yesterday, the heat was sufficient to be unpleasant. I had to lug a bunch of broken printers up to Union Square. Not fun. It was hot enough that I could smell the tarmac melting on 4th Ave (newly paved). It seems like the whole city was out and about this weekend. There were orange-robed monks handing out literature by the Ghandi statue in the square and people on the steps and people who were just generally in the way of the old lady rolling cart I was using to lug the printers.

On a happier note, the weather also served to bring out the amusingly off-beat. There was an old lady in a kerchief sitting on the bench in my courtyard an animal but from our balcony we couldn't quite tell if it was a large cat or a small dog. I ran to get my opera glasses and we could then see that she was indeed out there with a big, orange Persian cat. Occasionally the cat would jump down and start to wander and the old lady would stand up, fetch it back to the bench, make it sit, and then sit back down herself. It was to dark out to get a good, focused picture so the one to the left is the best a could do. I felt like a paparazzi. If paparazzi stalked anonymous old ladies, and used teeny little digital cameras, that is.