Tuesday, July 14, 2015

HOKUSAI, GORDON PARKS, ET AL.


So I thought I knew about Hokusai.  Well, the “Great Wave,” yes...


 ... don't we all?  And a few images from those scenes from the “Floating World”—the teeming life of Japan’s Edo period...

(A bit lopsided, that one.  Sorry!)
And a few other images might have come to mind.  But little did I know.  My eyes were opened—wide!—by the Hokusai exhibition at the Museum of Fine Art in Boston.  I was amazed not only by the man’s prolific output, but also by the immense range of interests that caught his eye over the long period of his artistic activity, his endless curiosity about the world around him; by the precision with which he captured and rendered it; and by the aesthetic integrity of every detail of his compositions.  Thank God the iPhone was permitted: I could not stop taking pictures, and would have taken many more had I allowed myself...




Above all, I was taken by the breathtakingly beautiful images of plants and creatures from the natural world, so seemingly simple and yet so meticulously observed and rendered:

(detail)

(detail)

Here's another detail from a favorite of mine (I happen to love birds)...


You know how there are times when something is so utterly, incontestably beautiful that tears come spontaneously to your eyes?  This, for me, was one of them.  Here's the artist talking about his work:


I hope that's legible.  It's a great testament to the slow process of maturation as an artist, the kind of humility I could wish that more of us shared, in the contemporary world.

A show like this needs more than the time we were able to give it... but we're tourists!  We need to see everything... well, a bit of everything.  We moved on to the contemporary American galleries on the museum's third floor, particularly in search of the exhibition "Gordon Parks: Back to Fort Scott."  On the way to see the work of this African American photographer, I was happy to see three wonderful paintings by Eldzier Cortor...


… an artist I would likely have never known about had I not, long ago, undertaken a study of another African American artist, Charles White, in the course of which I discovered all too much about the unconscious institutional racism of American art history—and about my own!  Cortor is just one of many artists whose work fell victim, by simply being ignored or sidelined, to the unacknowledged racism of the art establishment, so it was a thrill to see the MFA paying due attention to this, and to several other artists, equally ignored. 

Parks, of course, is better known than many of his generation.  I wondered, having just emerged from the Hokusai show, what these two so disparate artists might have in common, and the answer I came up with is a simple one: curiosity, and observation.  Gordon Parks's images (I did not presume to take photographs of his photographs, but some can be found online, here), made in 1950 on a return visit to his native city, are wonderful revelations of the humanity of his subjects and the photographer's compassionate and empathetic eye.  They document, yes, the social environment and, by implication, the racial prejudice at its root; but more importantly, like White, the man I studied, Parks is concerned with the inherent dignity of each of his subjects, no matter that often difficult social circumstance; and with the sheer, radiant beauty of the human face in all the drama that surrounds it.

Both os us hungry, after the morning's viewing, we made our way to the museum's lofty atrium...


 (designed by the architectural firm of Foster + Partners) and enjoyed an excellent, quiet lunch at the restaurant there...


After lunch, we made a quick trip upstairs again to see the small, but excellently selected exhibition of American art pottery, “Nature, Abstraction, and Clay: 100 Years of American Ceramics,” where we were delighted to find three fine examples of the Teco pottery we ourselves have collected over the years…

(the matte green, center right...) 
… and also a wide variety of ceramic artists whose work we have admired—and about several of whom I have written, including Otto and Gertrud Natzler and Ralph Bacerra.  

Leaving the MFA...

Ellie takes a picture of the John Singer Sargent-painted dome ceiling, in the mirror...
... we made our way a few short blocks to the newly redesigned (by Renzo Piano) Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.  A glorious central courtyard...



... and gardens, beyond which, no photographs allowed in the original residence which houses the majority of the collections: the museum is known chiefly, sadly, for the infamous theft of a priceless Vermeer, two Rembrandts and a number of other valuable paintings and art objects, so the custodians are naturally nervous about anything that could compromise their security measures.  Perhaps, though, the tour is the more enjoyable for the absence of the ubiquitous cell phone and its omnivorous camera eye.  People are actually required to look directly at the artworks, rather than at a digital image on their iPhone screen.  A radical concept!

I have to say, at the risk of seeming boorish, that I was not terribly impressed with much of the art, nor the quaint installation that the original collector required should be maintained in her bequest.  I visited the Gardner many years ago, and don't remember it being so lackluster; nor do I remember the feeling of sadness, wandering amongst these many precious objects--paintings, sculptures, memorabilia, religious icons of all kinds--ripped from their context by the rapacity of a revered "art collector."  They all seemed, somehow, so lonely and deracinated, especially in this maze of low-lit, frankly rather dowdy rooms.  I realize that these words amount to lèse-majesté of the worst sort, but there it is, this is how I felt.

The new extension to the museum, though, was a delight, with its exhibition of the joyfully glittery work of the French artist Jean-Michel Othoniel, both in a gallery installation...



... and outside, in the garden...


Othoniel's fascination with flowers and their appearance and significance in the art of the ages is featured in a variety of ways (with carefully placed guidebooks) throughout the museum, allowing the dedicated visitor to follow a diverting tour that gives a special focus to a visit--a charming idea, and one that layers the experience of art with a further, unexpected dimension of enrichment.

Feeling quite filled up for the day--with art, at least--we chose to take the scenic route...


 back to our hotel, following the lovely, tree-lined path that parallels Fenway, a major artery, alongside the "Muddy River" and the park that surrounds it.  


A pleasure to find this, in the middle of a busy city!

We got back to our hotel and rested here awhile before heading out in search of a good place for dinner--a disappointing search, at first, because all the restaurants along Boylston, near to our hotel, were unappealingly crowded and noisy.  We settled, in the end, for the California Pizza Kitchen!  Which was not, surprisingly, overrun with tourists (like ourselves!)--and the food was actually not bad at all.










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