Art and High Craft

Last Saturday was one of those beautiful early fall days, so I continued my exploration of Philadelphia with a long walk over to U Penn, across the Schuylkill River. On the way I happened upon the Rittenhouse Art Event, a big annual affair. Rittenhouse Square is a lovely green space, one of five in William Penn's original city plan, and the neighborhood is now known for fancy shops, restaurants, and apartments. The scene was ideal; white tents, green grass, shady trees, sunny weather, and best of all for the artists, lots of people. I was impressed by the high quality of the art, but couldn't help reflecting as well on the fact that I saw almost nothing I didn't already know, not in the sense of a name but a general idea. There were a few exceptions - one being the work of Joyce Stratton from North Carolina who does small scale paintings with a linear, calligraphic feel that makes them more personal and contemporary than the usual art fair offering. If you've been to this type of art fair you probably know what I mean - lots of bold dramatic colors, often excellent skills in drawing and composition - but rarely does something add up to more than the sum of its parts. It's an extraordinary but timeless truth that despite a great deal of talent and hard work, art is too often simply high craft. The difference is hard to pin down, but has something to do with a sense of significance, something beyond the ordinary and merely good. After Rittenhouse Square I continued on to the Contemporary Art Museum at the University of Pennsylvania, and found myself thinking that, almost without exception, if the artists behind what I saw there tried to sell their work at an art fair, they would be the ignored ones, the ones whose offerings made people puzzled and uncomfortable. The most interesting exhibit was a collaboration between Tim Rollins and K.O.S, a group of disenfranchised students - the work was not so highly crafted as what I saw in the Rittenhouse show, but it was powerful in the scope of the ideas behind it, a key element of that quality of significance. This example - look closely - is a reference to the text of Pinocchio, one of several classic texts that inspired the art. What do YOU think? Leave a comment telling me your thoughts on your art fair experiences.

Spiky Art

One of the good things about living in Philadelphia is that New York is so close - close enough to eat breakfast at home and lunch at the Met. One day recently I took the bus up and discovered a new (for me) museum - the Chelsea Museum http://www.chelseaartmuseum.org/ - where I saw a couple of very interesting shows of contemporary art. The New York Times did a great job of covering the main exhibition, Iran Inside Out, so let me tell you about Pencilism by Federico Uribe, a playful, witty tour-de-force of craft and concept sited in an open, airy second floor gallery. The work speaks for itself - spiky, colorful, full of possibilities, much like pencils themselves. A short essay from Uribe introduces the exhibit - I like the comment he made about how a pencil shrinks as the work you do with it grows. The standing (and hanging) sculptures are the most interesting - he has some 'paintings' made with layered pencils that are clever but not as aggressively fun.

The 21st Arrondisement

During our first weeks in Philadelphia, my husband and I found ourselves being reminded of Paris. At first we just thought it was simply the switch to urban rather than suburban living - interesting walks past lovely old houses, lots of history, lively street life, plenty of little restaurants and cafes, etc. After a while it became more specific and we realized that there are indeed actually many similarities - and that we are by no means the first to notice. I even found a book entitled "Philadelphia: An American Paris" by Joseph L. Borkson (2006) full of wonderful pictures that document particular sites and architecture to match those in Paris. Here are a few of my photos, some from a recent bike ride along the magnificent Schuylkill River trail that right along the river in a beautiful park, from the heart of Philadelphia to Valley Forge, a distance of about 20 miles. The Schuylkill isn't the Seine - it's wilder and less confined - but the sense of freedom on a bike in a city was a nice reminder of long rides along the quais and through traffic light streets of summer Paris.