'My' Paris - arts grands et intimes

I've just gotten back from Paris, where I spent much of my time planning for my Paris Arts Tours which begin next Spring. Take a look at http://parisarts.wordpress.com/paris-arts-small-group-tours-with-a-twist/. I'm still adding specifics, but if you come, you can count on a very special arts-focused week with good food, charming people, and interesting off-the-beaten-track visits and experiences. I'm always intrigued with the the range of art and beauty in this most beautiful of cities. The museums of Paris are a wonderful treasure, but they are only one aspect. Art spills out everywhere - it's impossible to escape! Some of it is grand and imposing, the impressive residue of France's heroic past, but much of the pleasure of the city comes from the 'arts intimes,' everyday delights styled by an artisanal hertiage essential to the story of Paris. Shop windows are often tiny museums; cakes at Gerard Mulot near Saint Germain, a florist on a side street, a fashionable jeweler on the Ile St. Louis - each presents his/her wares with the touch of a practiced artist. In parks, even the little pocket parks in every neighborhood, some bit of sculpture or ancient bit of architecture peeps out of the greenery, with poignant, casual effect. On my ParisArts site, above, look for posts on this subject - even breakfast qualifies!

Rome - the Light and Dark of it

If you want to understand color, go to the South of France; that certainly worked for Van Gogh and Cezanne. But if it's light and dark you want to understand, head for Rome. Rome, where I spent the last week, is an intense study of the subject. Light and dark here are sensual, physical experiences with moral overtones. One minute the sun is beating down, filling body and soul with hot heavenly radiance that bounces off the orange/gold walls and pours into you until you are sated, saturated with light. Then you step into the shade and a curtain drops, plunging you into black so rich, so velvety, so complete that your balance evaporates. You wobble unsteadily for a moment, hoping you don't pitch forward onto the cobblestones, while your eyes do might battle with the forces of darkness, struggling to adjust.  Surely the bombardment of Catholicism in Rome is feeding my moral metaphors, but it is the give and take of light and dark in the extreme that explains why the Ancient Romans were masters of sculpture, especially bas-relief. Trajan's Column - amazing to see it just standing there minding it's own business after 2000 years while buses and taxis whiz by - is a great illustration. In the shade this masterpiece of 2nd century propaganda (designed by the great Apollodorus of Damascus) is a kind of visual mush, but in the bright sun the rugged, visceral details of Rome's victory over the Dacians spring to life. Similarly, in the Roman Forum The Arch of Titus, marking the victory in Jerusalem with the resulting destruction of Solomon's Temple, shows the triumphant parade and the display of spoils - here also the sun is equal partner to the sculptor, bringing every realistic detail into stunning relief. Busts of Emperors, richly carved sarcophagi, even architecture - in every important Roman art form the bright light of the sun is understood and assumed. The Romans didn't color their sculptures like the ancient Greeks - perhaps in part because they were more practical-minded, they counted on the ever-present, reliable sun to paint their work with the broad brush of dramatic eloquence.

Stitching Stories - Now and Then

Among the many splendors of the Philadelphia Museum of Art is the extraordinary Asian collection, which includes not only the usual treasures in ceramic and on paper but entire rooms and buildings - a Chinese hall, a Japanese tea house complex, and an enormous Hindu temple construction. These days it's perhaps best not to look too closely into how they got there, but these wonders makes for a very moving museum experience. On the way to investigate them with a visiting Chinese friend last weekend, I detoured into a quiet gallery off to one side and entered a world of Bengal art, including some of the most charming embroidered art I've ever seen. I'm always attracted to visual narratives, no matter the media, and these certainly fit into that category. My pictures are a bit fuzzy, but I hope you at least get an idea of the lovely details of subject and technique. These quilts which were often made out of worn garments, are called Kanthas. The two examples I saw were made in the 19th century, apparently for home use, but they tell grand stories of Hindu culture and belief. Processional chariots, called rathas, carry a linga, the phallic symbol representing Shiva, letting us know that it is a religious procession, and in a second quilt Radha holds hands with her divine love, Krishna. Further searching helps set the quilts in their historical moment, for you can find figures dressed in contemporary clothing, including one in a military costume. Such delicate, laborious work serves a documentary as well as artistic and utilitarian purpose; these quilts brought to mind the Bayeux Tapestry (a misnomer - it is embroidered, not woven) created in the 11th century to commemorate William's conquest of England (note the nice narrative detail at the bottom of the soldier stealing the shirt from the dead enemy.) I then went on to wonder about contemporary embroidery art. A quick search and I had at least one very good answer - Eleanor Hannan is a wonderful artist who lives in Vancouver and does amazing painterly work in this medium. Her colors and way of handling thread and stitching range easily and with mastery across the areas of tradition, technique, and innovation. Her website is well worth a look http://www.eleanorhannan.com.