In Tribute: The Philadelphia Orchestra

This post is in tribute to the extraordinary Philadelphia Orchestra, after yet another wondrous concert. The Philadelphia Orchestra, 112 years old and among the very finest in the world, has been treated very shabbily lately by its administration - shameful for a city with such a rich past and present in the performing arts. I know I speak for many when I offer applause for all the brilliant, hard-working musicians in the Orchestra and gratitude for their music. Last night's concert featured Emanuel Ax as soloist - he was charming and amazing but so were the regulars, many of whom are more than solo capable. Solo performers have always gotten the glory, but while it's great to have stars, without a good back up team they don't go far. Edgar Degas was, to my knowledge, the first to honor the 'back-up teams' in art. Influenced by the recent development of photography and by the asymmetrical, informal compositions of Japanese print makers, Degas created scene after scene of dancers and musicians before, after and during performances, and never from the viewpoint of audience to direct center stage. The spotlight is never on the star performer; in Degas's musical world, we are with the dancers backstage, in endless classes and with the musicians, fresh from countless hours of practice, in the pit. We lean over their shoulders reading the music on the stand, we hear the bassoonist huffing gently as the music emerges, feel the strength of the arm running the bow so

Photo by Chris Lee

skillfully and lightly on the strings. The dancers, delicate from a distance in their pastel tufted costumes, throw off sweat as they spin past, or sit next to us stretching their weary muscled backs and legs before the next demanding call. Please leave a comment in support of the Philadelphia Orchestra and as thanks for all highly skilled, hard-working, under-praised performers everywhere.

Modern Spirit: Henry Ossawa Tanner

Sometimes it takes a while to catch up with the obvious. When there are obstacles like race and gender it usually takes even longer. Henry Ossawa Tanner, (African) American artist, is having one of those catch-up moments at his alma mater, The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, with the retrospective Henry Ossawa Tanner: Modern Spirit. PAFA, founded in 1802 and located in the heart of Tanner's home town of Philadelphia, is this country's first art school. The school is still going strong, with a vigorous program much abetted by the Academy's important collection, housed in a landmark building by visionary architect Frank Furness. (PAFA made the news recently when the latest of Claes Oldenbug's public sculptures, Paint Torch, was installed there.) There's a lot to say about Tanner's back story - born to a former slave, forced to spend his productive mature years abroad to escape the toxic racism that plagued - still plagues - this country - but out of respect to an artist who deserves to be seen for his work alone, I want to concentrate on the art. A little background: Tanner entered PAFA in 1879 and quickly distinguished himself. A precocious, diligent student with a gift for drawing, he enjoyed the special patronage of Thomas Eakins, the legendary teacher/artist and director during Tanner's years there. Once out in the world he tried to make a living as an artist, with some success, but as for so many other African-American intellectuals and artists other countries offered better opportunities; Tanner moved to Paris in 1891. He made a successful, clearly satisfying life in France, establishing himself as a 'modern' painter known for religious subjects. Religion must have been a natural direction for him - his father was a bishop in the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) church. In fact, his best work, whether intentionally religious or not, glows with an ethereal light that conveys a transcendent spiritual aura. The Thankful Poor and The Banjo Lesson, two of Tanner's best known works (neither of them in the PAFA show) have that quicksilver kind of light that transforms the ordinary into something holy. I was surprised to realize, on seeing the show, that Tanner was in many respects a Symbolist. The late 19th century movement is a further explanation for his unearthly approach, but Tanner's work demonstrates a more grounded, sincere reason for his visions. (Picasso had a brief flirtation with Symbolism - a better known proponent was Edward Munch.) The Arch is a beautiful example of his transforming of solid reality, through light and color, into a metaphoric journey - another is But The Boat Was Now in The Middle of The Sea, a particularly fine sample of Tanner's accomplished brushwork and composition. His personal retellings of Bible stories can explain the 'modern' to contemporary audiences who might not recognize such an academic style as revolutionary in any way, but works like The Annunciation and The Sabot Maker put a whole new spin on old subjects. The Sabot Maker, in fact, may or may not be seen as religious, but a son working with his father in a wood-worker's shop.....? It seems too obvious not to be meant as a young Christ with St. Joseph. Financed by one of the Philadelphia Wanamakers, Tanner took a very important trip to Palestine, to the source of much of his inspiration. The paintings from there are supreme illustrations of an artist at the top of his form. His long experience and consummate skill with light make him an immediate master of the strong, hot sunlight on the ancient walls, and the ensuing paintings of Bible subjects seem even richer and more evocative. Back at home - in France - Tanner survived WWI - there are some sketches and small paintings from that clearly painful time in the show. One, of soldiers lined up in a mess tent, is quickly drawn but even that has an aura of something at once real and out of time. Tanner is certainly one of PAFA's most distinguished alumni - it's odd that they include David Lynch on their roster of 'famous graduates' but not Henry Ossawa Tanner. I hope they correct that.

Bill Cunningham - our Bruegel of the Streets

Since 1966, photographer Bill Cunningham has been roaming the streets of New York with a camera, chronicling delightful little moments of human pride and vanity - er, I mean style and fashion. I've seen the recent documentary about him* (see below) and know him to be a good-hearted, down-to-earth fellow with no malice towards his fellow travelers. Still, that keen, ever-present eye is on us; the stories he tells speak volumes about our fears and our obsessions. It suddenly occurred to me this week, as I was preparing for the theme 'Daily Life' with my university Art History class this week, that Cunningham is our Bruegel, the 16th century Flemish artist whose paintings spread a wide, richly furnished table of human foibles, follies, and joys. Pieter Bruegel (the Elder) was a

down-to-earth kind of guy too, nicknamed 'Peasant Bruegel,' not because he was a peasant, but because he used to dress up like one in order to mingle with the folks he wanted to paint. It was a time when the classes were separated eternally and as a matter of course - your parents were peasants, you were a peasant, your children would be peasants - or you were a lord, your parents were lords .... etc. Few if any artists painted the lower classes - there was no money in it - but Bruegel, spurning the rich and over-mannered as subjects, created one masterpiece after another by using peasants to represent the crazy colorful range of human nature. One of my favorites is Netherlandish Proverbs (1559), a riotous delight chock-full of the fun and foolishness of life. See if you can spot 'Casting pearls before swine, Belling the cat, The blind leading the blind' among hundreds of other pithy sayings rooted in the gritty stuff of daily peasant life. (See below for a handy reference guide.) Bill Cunningham is hardly such a blatant moralizer; he's a Bruegel for our time, in true contemporary art style he tosses out his weekly hurricane of bits and pieces and lets us stitch them together into our own patchwork quilt of meaning. Where one sees chic, another may see pompous... where one sees retro, another may see trying too hard. Bill Cunningham is in his 80's now - he lives simply in the center of over-the-top Manhattan, spurns cars and cabs in favor of his faithful bike, he's our version of an intentional peasant, and still going strong in his 80's. It's fun to think what Pieter Bruegel would have done with a camera, but then again, we don't have to imagine - Cunningham has painted a clear picture.

See a trailer of the film:  
Bill Cunningham New York
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYqiLJBXbss&noredirect=1
Cheat sheet for Netherlandish Proverbs

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Netherlandish_Proverbs