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Photo: Rhea Nayyar/Hyperallergic.
Frontal view of Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s High Line commission “The Light That Shines Through the Universe” (2026) in New York City.

It’s always a tragedy when warfare destroys art. I remember how I felt for Buddhists when the Taliban destroyed the famous Bamiyan Buddhas in 2001 in Afghanistan.

Now, an exhibit honoring those statues has appeared on New York City’s beautiful elevated park, the High Line. Rhea Nayyar at Hyperallergic describes seeing it and what it signifies to her.

“Between the sea of sky-blue high-rise windows and the traffic funneling toward the Lincoln Tunnel, a large sandstone Buddha stands tall on the High Line, inviting Manhattan to embrace a moment of tranquility.

“Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s ‘The Light That Shines Through the Universe‘ (2026), the park’s fifth site-specific commission, was selected from nearly 60 proposals. It was recently installed at West 30th Street and 10th Avenue, and is on view through Spring 2027. The 27-foot-tall sculpture stands out from its contemporary surroundings not only because of its warmth and timeworn quality, but because it resurrects a critical piece of destroyed cultural heritage — the Bamiyan Buddhas.

 “ ‘This sculpture creates a friction with the surroundings here in New York. It’s not sleek like everything else you can see here,’ High Line’s art director and chief curator Cecilia Alemani said to Hyperallergic. ‘It offers a hint to the public that temporality is not necessarily a straight line, that things can come back.’ …

“The Bamiyan Buddhas, enormous reliefs that dated back to around the 6th century, were hewn into a sandstone cliffside of the Bamiyan Valley in Afghanistan, a region along the Silk Road trade route that became a prominent Buddhist site. Of the two figures, the larger Buddha was affectionately referred to as ‘Salsal,’ which translates to ‘the light that shines through the universe.’ …

“Nguyen, who has recast or reinterpreted artillery associated with the Vietnam War throughout his practice, took the same approach to make the sculpture’s hands, which are disconnected from the sandstone body. He told Hyperallergic that he was able to source artillery brass from Afghanistan through a friend’s network across the Bamiyan region and bring it over the Pakistani border. There, he recast them into the shapes of mudras — symbolic hand gestures used extensively in Buddhist and Hindu iconography — before transporting them to Vietnam, where the sandstone was sourced and carved.

“Glinting from the sun overhead, the right hand invokes the Abhaya mudra, which signifies fearlessness, while the left hand connotes compassion and sincerity through the Varada mudra.

“Nguyen stated that his statue was not a replica of the lost cultural heritage, but rather an “echo.”

“ ‘ You keep a story, idea, or memory alive by retelling,’ he explained. ‘When I engage in this process of remaking, it’s like retelling the story. It gets translated through my hands and eyes.’

“Though it feels particularly timely because of the ever-evolving United States- and Israel-led violence in Iran, Alemani noted that Nguyen’s proposal had been selected a long time ago. ‘It’s a testimony to the strength of the artist’s voice that sometimes, the works we select become even more relevant when we install them,’ Alemani said.”

More at Hyperallergic, here.

Do you agree with the writer that the sculpture is telling us that history repeats itself? Do you have other reactions? I feel it’s also about humanity refusing to let good things be destroyed entirely.

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Photo: David Levene/Guardian.
Zhanna Kadyrova’s sculpture arrives at the headquarters of Unesco in Paris, on its way to the Venice biennale. “It has become a symbol of hope” in Ukraine.

The Venice Biennale is a celebration of art and culture from countries around the world. What different nations send to the event shows what they think they stand for and what they want others to know. This year, war-torn Ukraine didn’t try to send high art but a sculpture that has become a symbol of hope.

Charlotte Higgins reported at the Guardian in May, “On a perfect spring day in Paris, the deer is first visible in the distance, poised between an avenue of just-budding plane trees in the 7th arrondissement. Its head is raised, its body poised. Seen there among the trees, it really could be a wild animal. In reality, it is a concrete deer, and not even a particularly naturalistic one, since it has the distinct look of origami about it. The sculpture is a play of scale and weight, as if feather-light folded paper has been enlarged and transformed into heavy concrete.

“The deer is strapped to a flat-bed truck, and it is being driven into the grand modernist headquarters of Unesco, the UN agency that looks after heritage, culture and education. It will stand there for a day in its gardens, with Alexander Calder’s Spirale for company and the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop. It is the last stop on a long overland journey across eastern, central and western Europe before it crosses the Venetian lagoon and docks in Venice for the 2026 art biennale, where, from this month, it will be the most prominent component of Ukraine’s national pavilion.

“The deer sculpture is by Kyiv-based artist Zhanna Kadyrova, who has been making resonant work reflecting the violence of the Russian attack of Ukraine since 2022. The work, however, predates Russia’s full-scale invasion. In 2018, she was commissioned by the city of Pokrovsk, in the Donetsk region, to help regenerate a large park. It was one of a number of efforts to invest in the cities of Ukraine’s east after Russian-backed separatists took over chunks of territory in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions. She and her partner, Denys Ruban, worked in the city for several months. …

“Fast forward to the summer of 2024. More than two years into Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Pokrovsk was on the frontline. Kadyrova’s friend Leonid Marushchak – an educator, historian and now co-curator of Ukraine’s Venice pavilion – was at that time organizing perilous evacuations of museum collections from frontline towns. … Marushchak said: ‘I saw the deer was still standing there. I called Zhanna to find out if she was not against the evacuation of the sculpture. We went to the local museum – some of the staff were still working. They said they understand that they have to evacuate it, but they had no idea how to do it.’

“Marushchak began negotiating with the city authorities – whose first priority, as drone and artillery attacks heightened in their intensity, was not a slightly odd contemporary concrete sculpture in the park. His ‘trick,’ as he called it, was to undertake to evacuate a statue of Mykola Leontovych, too – a beloved Ukrainian composer who wrote the renowned, evocative Carol of the Bells. …

“A moving film, which will also be shown in Venice, documents the process. While the men are at work, Kadyrova asks locals – some about to leave for ever, some determined to tough it out come what may – what they think of the sculpture. Some are nonplussed, but others clearly love it, and the conversation is bound up with the ache of leaving a place, maybe for good. …

“It was last year that Kadyrova and Marushchak, with fellow curator Ksenia Malykh, proposed a project centering on the sculpture for Ukraine’s Venice Biennale pavilion. … And so, early this spring, the sculpture set out on its journey to Venice – a slow and circuitous one through Warsaw, Prague, Vienna, Brussels and finally Paris.

“Along the way, it has paused in each city, often in grand imperial architectural settings in which it was never intended to be seen, designed as it was for a park in a small, industrial city. And over the course of its journey, it has accrued more and more meaning and significance. Refugees from Pokrovsk, Kadyrova tells me, regularly come to see the deer, and a new tradition has arisen, of touching it and making a wish.”

More at the Guardian, here.

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For some reason, I haven’t been taking as many photos as usual. On recent perfect days, I just drink in the beauty and laugh at the number of bird calls — so many that even the Merlin app has trouble keeping track.

Still, there are some photo ops I can never resist: wisteria, for example. Above, you see Suzanne and Erik’s wisteria in a flourishing state. Ten years ago, when Farmor first provided the playhouse and our granddaughter took over (then age 1), the wisteria was a bit of a baby, too.

The playhouse is now old and worn, and the wisteria has grown up with our young lady. (Note the second wisteria over near the grill.)

Poppies are also irresistible. This one is in one of the garden boxes where I live. We have unusually big raised beds here. Unfortunately, not enough to please all the gardeners who left growing at home when they downsized.

In the woods near the boardwalk, there are lots of wildflowers — including the mayapple below, the trillium, and the marsh marigolds.

On a sunny day, my camera was drawn to the paperweight a colleague gave me when I left a job in Minneapolis, quite a while ago now. I think of her when I see it. I appreciated getting a little piece of art.

Speaking of art, the ceramics biennial at the Umbrella was outstanding, with its focus on nature and how we humans relate to the natural environment.

Finnuala Hart Gerrity made the “Hickory Moth Tea Set.”

Linnea Pappas-Byers won grand prize for the intriguing “Two Futures,” which seems to demand close scrutiny and reflection. Which future will be ours?

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Photo: Rebecca Rosman for NPR.
For 20 years, Dutch art detective Arthur Brand has acted as an intermediary between the police and people who know where stolen artwork might be hidden.

Is there one thing that makes someone successful at recovering stolen art?

According to today’s article about Arthur Brand, the secret might be motive. You can’t get both police and thieves to trust you if you are in it for the money. Arthur Brand is in it to save art.

Rebecca Rosman reports from Amsterdam for National Public Radio (NPR), “In his modest IKEA-furnished apartment, Arthur Brand paces to distract himself.

” ‘I’m nervous,'”‘ he says, with the honesty of a man who has learned that bravado is useless in his line of work. He lights a cigarette, leans out the window, and scans the street below. ‘The waiting is the hardest part.’

“Brand, 56, has made a career out of waiting: for a phone call, a knock at the door, and, every once in a blue moon, a Picasso or a Van Gogh left discreetly on his doorstep.

” ‘Those are the moments you realize it’s worth it,’ he says. …

“In another life, Brand says, he’ll take his mother’s advice and ‘find a normal job.’ But in this one, he’s helped recover stolen art for two decades — often the cases police can’t solve alone. …

“He says he has recovered more than 150 stolen paintings and artifacts. His cases regularly make international headlines.

“There’s the stolen Van Gogh that showed up on his doorstep in 2023, stuffed into a blood-soaked pillow in a blue IKEA bag. The Salvador Dali painting he recovered in 2016. The Picasso he tracked down for a Saudi sheikh in 2019. …

” ‘You know, you cannot go to university and say, I want to become an art detective,’ Brand says. ‘This is a job created more or less out of lack of other opportunities.’

“He traces his entry point to Michel van Rijn, a notorious Dutch figure in the art underworld who introduced [him] to a shadowy ecosystem of smugglers, thieves and forgers — and law enforcement.

“After making a cold call to van Rijn’s office, Brand says he became his apprentice in London — which regularly involved sitting quietly in a corner while older men swapped stories. ‘Everybody thought — who is this idiot?’ he says.

“Van Rijn, Brand later discovered, was straddling two sides. In 2009, he walked away after learning his boss was working with police while still keeping ‘one leg’ in the criminal world.

“The experience left him with a simple rule for survival: In a world where people expect betrayal, being honest — and keeping your word — is its own form of power. …

” ‘The police don’t trust the informants. The informants don’t trust the police. So I want to form a bridge between them to see what can be done. And in most cases, it’s possible.’

“The bridge only holds if Brand is seen as independent. ‘I’m not hired by an insurance company,’ he says. ‘The police, of course, don’t pay me. So I do this work [at my own expense].’

“He supports himself by consulting for art galleries and helping Jewish families trace art looted during World War II. But the majority of his energy goes to the work he does on his own dime — acting as a go-between when someone wants to quietly unload a masterpiece they can’t keep.

“Stolen masterpieces, he says, are hard to enjoy and even harder to sell. ‘Who buys stolen art? You cannot show it to your friends. You cannot leave it to your children. ‘

“Dutch police say Brand’s motive matters. Richard Bronswijk, who heads the Dutch police art crime unit, says he’s seen private detectives create problems when money is the driver. … Brand, he points out, has always been driven by something else: the thrill of the chase. …

“Still, sometimes Brand’s trust isn’t enough on its own. When an informant is deciding whether to return stolen art, Brand says fear can take over … of the police, of retaliation, of being tricked.

“That’s when he calls in his ace — Octave Durham.

“In 2002, Durham, already a seasoned bank robber, stole two Van Gogh paintings from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. … ‘I’m a born burglar,’ adding he doesn’t steal anymore but ‘still can.’

“Today, he works with Brand to recover stolen art.”

At NPR, here, you can read how that partnership led to the moment Brand “opened his door and found a blue IKEA bag on his doorstep” with a pillow soaked in blood and a missing Van Gogh.

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Photo: Felix Bazalgette.
Federico Piccolo at work at the Van der Kelen. 

I’ve always been fascinated by trompe l’oeil art (fool the eye) — pillars that aren’t there, window vistas that are solid walls.

Today, I’m learning from Felix Bazalgette at the Guardian that a painting school in Belgium is the place to learn how to do that. But the school is rigorous.

“One morning last February, in a chilly studio in Brussels,” writes Bazalgette, “28 people in white coats gathered to watch Sylvie Van der Kelen paint the sky. ‘The first touch of the brush is generally the best,’ said Van der Kelen as light, pink-tinged clouds began to appear. ‘It is preferable not to make revisions.’

“For a few days this winter I was allowed to sit in on classes at the École Van der Kelen-Logelain, a mythologized painting school in Brussels that is unlike any other arts education institution in the world. Run by the same family since it was founded in 1892, the Van der Kelen course takes place every winter. …

“Students must arrive by 9am, otherwise they will be shut out until lunchtime; they must not bring phones or cameras into the school’s workspace; they must wear white lab coats while they work; and they must work in silence. They also must be able to stand the cold: the studio is ineffectually heated by an ancient single wood-fired stove. …

“If students can tolerate these strictures, by the end of the six-month course they will possess a number of specialized skills, from sign painting and lettering to the application of gold and silver leaf, and manipulation of textural finishes. The core of the course, though – what the school is most famous for – is its trompe l’oeil painting techniques. …

“Trompe l’oeil refers to a genre of illusionistic painting with a history stretching back to the time of the ancient Egyptians, in which artists use textures, shading and tricks of perspective in order to create three-dimensional illusions. At the Van der Kelen, students learn to conjure fake relief sculptures and architectural details out of flat surfaces; create copies, in oil paints, of 28 different types of wood grain and 33 different types of marble; and, like Sylvie, paint a perfect trompe l’oeil sky. …

“The passion for decorative painting among the wealthy upper middle class has evaporated, and fussy-seeming trompe l’oeil has fallen out of style in interior decoration and high art. Student numbers have correspondingly dropped to dangerously low levels.

“And yet, every winter, the family continue to oversee a course that has barely changed since 1892, and students still arrive from across the world to put themselves through a bizarre and sometimes punishing routine (‘There is roughly one breakdown every week,’ a student told me). …

“Everybody is in search for something special here,” Sylvie tells me after her demonstration that morning as the students quietly set to work. “Everyone is here for a reason.”

“This year marks the first time that Sylvie, 52, has taken over the running of the school from her mother Denise – the ‘Coco Chanel of fake marble’ – who herself has been in charge since 1995. …

“Every morning a new technique is demonstrated by one of the Van der Kelens (the school invites outside teachers to teach extra classes, but only members of the family teach the core trompe l’oeil course). The students observe and make notes, before producing an exact copy themselves on a large sheet of paper; this piece of work is known as a ‘panel.’

“No panel, however, can be finished in a single day, because each requires multiple ‘operations’: different stages of work, separated by a day or more to allow the drying of paints and varnishes. As a result, students end up with a dizzying number of panels in progress at any one time, with more added every morning. Even after the workshop closes at 6pm, everyone has homework, sometimes until midnight. ‘It’s brutal,’ one student, a British painter, told me. …

“Why would anyone put themselves through this? Talking to this year’s cohort, I hear a number of reasons. There’s a small but significant contingent of people from various professions – architects, graphic designers, interior designers – who have become dissatisfied with the computer-based nature of their industry and are looking for something more hands-on. After graduating, students might hope to find work as painting assistants for established artists, painting interiors for wealthy clients, working on film or theatre sets, or working for European fashion houses periodically drawn to the trompe l’oeil aesthetic for runway shows and boutiques.

“Every student from an arts background that I speak to, however, cites the work of another painter, Lucy McKenzie, who has arguably done more to revive the school’s fortunes than any other person of late. The young Glaswegian artist was browsing in a secondhand bookshop in Brussels in 2007 when she came across a mention of the school in a book of interiors and – amazed that such a place still existed – immediately enrolled. At that time, McKenzie was almost a decade into an already accomplished arts career, but she signed on because she found the school’s illusionistic techniques fascinating. …

“By the mid-oos, the school was in crisis. … That is until McKenzie used the school’s techniques to create thrilling large-scale paintings, such as the vertigo-inducing Untitled (2010), and, along with a book she published about her time at the school, it is works such as these – exhibited at London’s Tate Britain, Amsterdam’s Stedelijk and the Art Institute of Chicago – that have caused a steadily increasing stream of students to arrive at the Van der Kelen’s imposing wooden doors. ‘Lucy McKenzie has a lot to answer for,’ one student told me cheerfully.”

More at the Guardian, here. No firewall.

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Photo: Harmon Li for the Texas Observer.
Austin’s Willy Baltazar is a man of many masks. From Veracruz to Texas, he keeps a centuries-old tradition alive.

I’m back from California and doing my best to adjust to the time change and life in the East. Having enjoyed the influence of Mexico for the past few days — especially the great Mexican food — I thought I would take a look at a beautiful Mexican art.

Barbara Campos writes at the Texas Observer, “On the back porch of his Southeast Austin home, Willy Baltazar displays a vibrant Día de los Muertos-style altar that honors more than just ancestors.

“Lined up are portraits of legends who have shaped Mexican culture and beyond: Vicente Fernández, Paquita la del Barrio, Frida Kahlo, Bob Marley, and Michael Jackson. Each icon is paired with a matching hand-carved wooden mask laid nearby — a living extension of Xantoloa centuries-old spiritual festival from Veracruz’s La Huasteca region in coastal Mexico.

“This pop culture mash-up serves as a bridge between his Austin life and the native custom that still defines him.

“Baltazar was raised in Tantoyuca, Veracruz, known as the Pearl of the Huastecas, an area famous for preserving Nahua heritage and a main keeper of Xantolo. The three-day sacred festivity — with the liveliness of a carnival — starts in late October and blends Huastec rituals with Catholic practices to honor the dead. During what’s widely regarded as the region’s own version of Día de los Muertos, every home sets up an altar adorned with cempasúchil [marigold flowers], veladoras de santos [saint-etched candles], and ofrendas [food offerings]. The streets fill with the smell of incense and the sounds of  string instruments. Dancers in ceremonial masks parade through Tantoyuca to guide lost loved ones back to the world of the living.

“ ‘It’s not something you miss,’ Baltazar proudly recounts. ‘It completely transforms the town and runs through our blood.’

“Baltazar vividly remembers cuadrillas [dancing troupes] parading in brightly colored costumes with masks looming large as they moved rhythmically through every neighborhood. He was always captivated by la embarazada [the pregnant woman], el diablo [the devil], and el vaquero [the cowboy]. The three symbolic figures represent the fundamental cycle of human existence: birth, mortality, and the enduring human spirit. Troupe members embody this essence while maintaining a vow of anonymity. ‘You must never know who is behind the mask,’ Baltazar warns. 

“At the festival’s close, the entire town makes its way to the cemetery, where dancers honor those who have performed before them and undergo the destape, a public unmasking that reveals their identity.

“Children are encouraged to join the cuadrillas as early as age 3. Baltazar dreamed of participating, or at least owning a mask, but the elaborate costume regalia was beyond what his family could afford. Instead, he watched from the sidelines and promised himself that one day he’d be a part of it. When Baltazar moved to Texas more than 20 years ago, his priority shifted to starting a family and finding his footing in a city where he didn’t yet speak the language.

“Meanwhile, in Veracruz, rehearsals start as soon as the festival ends and continue year-round. Joining a cuadrilla comes with a seven-year cycle of mandatory dancing during Xantolo — otherwise attracting bad luck. Unable to commit to that rhythm from afar, he returned each October as an observer. ‘I felt like I was looking in from the outside,’ he recalls.

“That outsider’s view transformed in 2021. Determined to weave his Mexican customs with Austin’s cultural scene, he placed his first order of masks with an artisan in Veracruz. The two figures were not conventional subjects: Freddie Mercury and John Lennon, his two musical icons and the ultimate bridge to his heritage. …

“A mask can be made in a day, but high demand delayed the process for weeks. Baltazar drove 13 hours to his hometown to pick them up once they were ready — a 700-mile journey that was a turning point in his life. 

“Holding the finished creations, he realized he could keep expanding his collection beyond traditional designs. For a long time, he wasn’t sure if they would become an exhibition, a personal display, or something else entirely. Regardless, he collected them. Since, he’s picked them up in batches of five to 10 — now holding more than 70 pieces depicting Prince, Marilyn Monroe, Ray Charles, and Elvis Presley.

“Between trips, Baltazar calls his car a ‘mobile gallery.’ As a full-time Uber driver, he keeps a few masks displayed. ‘It always starts a conversation,’ he says. …

“Riders often take photos with the pieces, impressed by the lifelike detail, and have started requesting personalized ones of their loved ones who’ve passed away. ‘It’s like the tradition is adapting. Maybe they don’t know much about Xantolo, but honoring our ancestors is universal,’ he says. 

“The constant travel eventually led to investing in a dedicated van for his three to four annual trips. ‘Flying out would be easier, but they’re too fragile and I can’t risk them getting damaged in cargo,’ he notes. ‘It’s a sacrifice, but this is part of the preservation.’ ”

More at the Texas Observer, here.

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Photo: Robin Lubbock/WBUR.
Detail of “The Immortal Magu with Wine Vessels” ink on silk scroll.

My mother had some silk scrolls from her 1930s travels in China. When my husband and I were downsizing, we were unable to interest John or Suzanne — or an auction house — in taking them. Fortunately, Niece Kate was up for it. I was so glad we could keep them in the family.

Today’s story is about the unique skills it takes to restore old scrolls — in this case, one that was donated to Wellesley College by a former student.

Artemisia Luk at WBUR’s “The Artery” reports, “In 2022, Yuhua Ding discovered a damaged Chinese scroll sitting in storage at Wellesley College’s Davis Museum. Underneath its many stains and cracks, she recognized a familiar figure: the Magu deity from the 16th-century Ming Dynasty.

“Ding is an assistant curator of collections and academic affairs at the Davis. Her research focuses on ancient Chinese art and antiques. Seeing ‘The Immortal Magu’ in poor condition, she was determined to preserve the piece.

“The artwork was donated to Wellesley by Lois Levin in 1983.  She had graduated from the college in 1942 and wanted to make the work available to students. …

“To repair the hanging scroll, Ding sought the help of conservator Jing Gao and Studio TKM Associates, a conservation studio in Somerville [Massachusetts] that restores artistic and historic works on paper. Gao trained at the Palace Museum in Beijing, and he is a world-renowned conservator of Asian paintings.

“ ‘Scrolls look so simple. You think to yourself, “Oh, it just rolls up,’ you know?” ‘ said Deborah LaCamera, partner and senior conservator at Studio TKM Associates. ‘But the structure of a scroll is so intricate and so precise that you really can’t make a functioning scroll if you’re not an expert.’ …

“In 1988, Gao became the first and only conservator for Chinese paintings in the United States upon joining the University of Michigan’s Museum of Art. He became a conservator at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in 1995. …

” ‘He cannot really retire,’ joked Ding. ‘There are only several Chinese conservators in the United States, and they’re all in high demand. Especially in painting. People will wait for the right hands to touch it.’

“Gao lent his spare Fridays for the year-long process of restoring “The Immortal Magu.” First, Gao dismantled the original scroll, removing the old backing paper and replacing it with several layers of new backing and a custom-made silk mount. …

“When examining the ink painting of Magu, LaCamera and Gao used raking light and microscopic photography to identify creases, cracks, and stains. Upon close examination, they found several inconsistencies in the silk density and weaving patterns, clear signs that the painting had been restored twice before.

” ‘Art conservation is essential to understanding the process of art making and to reveal hidden stories of art,’ explained Ding.

“Juxtaposed against a large black frame, the cream-colored silk scroll stands out in the small exhibition room. … A woman with long fingernails sways with her feather cape. She is enveloped by the branches of a tree and three wine jars that rest by her feet. …

” ‘The number of Magu paintings in the Ming Dynasty are very rare,’ explained Ding.

“For the final stage of ‘The Immortal Magu’ restoration process, Ding and curatorial intern Berit Raines visited the Somerville studio to watch Gao in action. Gao used a traditional pressing stone to flatten the fibers of the backing paper, a process that took nearly eight hours. …

” ‘This project really, firmly established that this is the field that I want to go into,’ said Raines, a junior at Wellesley College. …

“On April 8, Ding will moderate a conversation with Gao, LaCamera, and Raines at Wellesley College. They’ll share insights and reflections from the year-long conservation project on ‘The Immortal Magu.’ “

More at the Artery, here.

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Photo: Simon Beck.
Simon Beck makes giant, transitory earth art using snow in the mountains or sand on the beach. Especially with beaches, it’s a race against time.

Here’s an artist who knows “you can’t take it with you.” And that’s OK. To him, all art vanishes. His just vanishes sooner.

Maggie Penman writes at the Washington Post, “Simon Beck’s work is, by its nature, temporary. For two decades, Beck has been using his feet to make intricate designs in fresh snow and on beaches. A former mapmaker, Beck designs many of the drawings ahead of time on paper. Then he spends 12 hours alone with a compass, walking in snowshoes to create complex patterns. Some designs resemble snowflakes, stars or flowers. Others include messages or peace signs.

“ ‘In mapmaking, you’ve got something in existence on the ground, and you’ve got to reproduce it in small scale on paper by measuring it,’ Beck said. ‘Making one of these drawings is the same process in reverse.’ Beck mostly works in France, but his art is seen all over the world on social media.

“At 67 years old, Beck has made nearly 700 artworks in sand and snow, and he said he aspires to make at least a thousand. The first time he tried making a pattern in the snow, in 2004, it was just an experiment. He started occasionally posting his snow and sand art. After a few years, he realized how many people were connecting with his work, and he started to dedicate himsel more seriously. He can work in the snow only from late October until early March, so he has a short season to make as many drawings as he can.

“The patterns can be as large as three soccer fields. After they’re done, Beck photographs them, often using a drone or by perching high on a nearby slope. Then, the drawings melt or are swept away by the wind or skiers — or they’re covered by fresh snow. The ephemeral nature of his work is part of the point. … He’s made hundreds of patterns in the same spots, and every time it snows, he has a fresh canvas.

“When Beck works in sand on beaches, the timetable is even shorter.

“ ‘When the tide starts going down, you have to wait until it’s dry before you can start drawing,’ he said. ‘Typically, you’ve got about five hours to get the drawing done before the tide comes in and starts covering it up.’ …

“ ‘The record was 75 people watching me,’ he said. … The skiing wasn’t very good that day, so dozens of people stopped to watch as Beck completed his work, yelling ‘Bravo!’ and applauding and taking photographs, he recalled.

“Often, though, Beck starts working on a snow drawing around 11 a.m. or noon, and doesn’t finish until around midnight, taking pictures of it the next morning. He eats a hearty breakfast before he starts: two big bowls of porridge with banana. He brings snacks with him for when he gets hungry while working, but he doesn’t take breaks. …

“By the time he finishes, he’s pretty hungry. …

“Beck usually works alone, but doesn’t mind the solitude. He listens to classical music while he works. ‘The Earth is beautiful, and the snow is beautiful, and winter is beautiful,’ Beck said.”

More at the Post, here.

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Art: Henri Rousseau.
“The Rabbit’s Meal” (1908), oil on canvas; The Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia.

In my college days, it was a treat to visit the Barnes Foundation in Marion, Pennsylvania, where Barnes’s will specified it should remain forever. He hated art experts and was as determined as one can be — considering “you can’t take it with you” — to keep his collection away from museums.

After a long conflict among many players, the collection nevertheless ended up with the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where an effort was made to maintain the groupings of works the way the will required.

The art critic who wrote today’s feature describes a recent exhibit. Writing at Hyperallergic in January, Judith Stein says, “If you’ve ever tried to puzzle out what’s happening in Henri Rousseau’s haunting ‘Sleeping Gypsy’ (1897) at the Museum of Modern Art, then you’re already familiar with the artist’s extraordinary ability to tantalize viewers. That painting of a lion and a slumbering woman is on view in Henri Rousseau: A Painter’s Secrets at the Barnes Foundation, now in the company of nearly 60 more works — many equally mesmerizing.

“Self-taught, self-confident, and inscrutable, Henri Rousseau … began painting before retiring as a toll collector for the city of Paris in 1893. It was at this point that he became a professional, though impoverished, artist.

“The title A Painter’s Secrets is not a ploy. Curators Christopher Green and Nancy Ireson freshly contextualized many artworks in the light of his personal story, and conservators conducted revelatory technical studies that, among other findings, exposed areas of long obscured, nuanced color. The grumpy-faced baby in ‘The Family’ (c. 1892–1900) is enlarged in the catalog to underscore Rousseau’s shrewd observational skills. …

“It’s startling to discover the top section of the four-year-old Eiffel Tower in the distant background of ‘Sawmill, Outskirts of Paris’ (1893–95), one of the small works that the enterprising painter sold to his neighbors. Other surprises are eerie. Sheltered within a barely visible structure in ‘Carnival Evening’ (1886), a disembodied head spies on a pair of costumed revelers.

A Painter’s Secrets incorporates several of the Barnes Foundation’s 18 Rousseau paintings, temporarily installed alongside loans of thematically related examples. Visitors can compare their ‘Scouts Attacked by a Tiger’ (1904) with the savage animals in dramatic struggles depicted in the Fondation Beyeler’s ‘The Hungry Lion Throws Itself Upon the Antelope’ (1898–1905) and the Cleveland Museum of Art’s ‘Fight Between a Tiger and a Buffalo’ (1908). …

“ ‘Rousseau is not so much a storyteller as a story-giver,’ Christopher Green notes in his catalog essay. Will the naked damsel with knee-length blond hair in the Barnes’s ‘Unpleasant Surprise’ (1899–1901) be rescued by the hunter shooting at the ferocious bear about to maul her? Will the beautiful flute player in the Musée d’Orsay’s ‘The Snake Charmer’ (1907) be able to keep the venomous serpents at bay? …

It was Rousseau’s fellow artists who initially recognized his genius.

“An ambitious painter, he courted official patronage in vain. Picasso, who both admired and gently mocked Rousseau, first discovered his work in 1908, when he came across the ‘Portrait of a Woman’ (1895) in a bric-a-brac shop selling canvases for reuse. Framed on one side by voluptuously patterned, cinched drapery, his model stands on a balcony in front of an enfilade of potted flowers, overlooking a distant mountain range and a delicately colored sky. Unsurprisingly, Picasso bought it and kept it until his death. …

“While you’re at the Barnes, you can find other works by Rousseau from the permanent collection in nearby galleries, installed unchanged since 1951 as components of founder Albert Barnes’s provocative art ensembles. Once you’re there, prepare to be sidetracked by the abundance of work by Picasso, Cézanne, Matisse, and Renoir. A Painter’s Secrets is a rare opportunity to situate Rousseau in this lineage and, in the process, to absorb his innovative (and far from ‘naive’) use of pictorial space and color, and his enchanting imagination.”

There’s a great array of Rousseau’s paintings, here, at Hyperallergic. No firewall. Subscriptions encouraged.

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Photo: Kentaro Takahashi.
Kazuo Yamagishi inside his studio in Kanazawa in the Ishikawa Prefecture of Japan. Like many lacquer artisans, he was displaced from his original home in Wajima after the 2024 earthquake.

When my husband was working for a company that did a lot of business with Japan, I was often sent on a search for a nice business gift since his Japanese contacts gave him such beautiful ones. I could never compete with the lacquer trays and picture frames and the way they combined utility and artistry. But those beauties can’t compete with the museum-quality lacquer described in today’s article.

Patricia Leigh Brown writes at the New York Times, “Deep in his heart, Kazuo Yamagishi, a lacquer artist designated a Living National Treasure of Japan, does not reside in a nondescript beige apartment complex in a packed area of Kanazawa, the capital city of Ishikawa Prefecture on the country’s main island.

“His real home, the one before he was displaced, is captured in a lacquer tray with delicately carved red lines inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl stretching across the horizon of its ebony surface. The work is meant to recall ‘the quality of the sunset in autumn,’ he said — the walks he would take along the shore in Wajima, his once-breathtaking small city, as the early evening light shimmered across the Sea of Japan.

“That was before a massive earthquake on New Year’s Day 2024 washed away his wooden home and studio, as it did those of hundreds of other Wajima artisans in this Holy Land of Lacquerware at the tip of the Noto Peninsula about two hours north of Kanazawa. …

“Wajima holds a singular place in the lacquer firmament, prized for its exceptional durability and honed by craftspeople whose family know-how goes back five generations and more. The strength of Wajima-nuri — designated a ‘Traditional Craft of Japan’ by the government — derives from the sap of the urushi tree, from which lacquer originates, reinforced with fine powdery local clay containing microfossils. …

“Today, many craftspeople remaining in Wajima are working out of 85 emergency prefabricated lacquer studios financed by the Japanese government, at a cost of $8.5 million. More than 3,000 housing units have been built to shelter residents, including artisans. … ‘The temporary studios are quite small, and they can’t go back to doing what they did before the quake,’ Shigeru Sakaguchi, the mayor of Wajima City, said in an interview. ‘But they need to keep producing to survive.’ …

“It is a slow craft in a fast world, learned through years of hands-on apprenticeships. … Each piece, including utilitarian bowls, art objects and more, requires over 100 steps and a retinue of specialists — from shapers of the wooden bases to artisans who apply layers of lacquer to produce a veneer thick enough for artists like Yamagishi to carve or incise.

“He and other surface decorators are masters of challenging techniques like ‘chinkin,’ which involves deftly embedding gold, silver or platinum powder into hand-carved dots and grooves. … Each layer of lacquer, known as urushi, needs high humidity and warm temperatures to harden in a box or room called an urushi miro.

“The sparkle of this natural material is difficult to convey without seeing it in person: Jewel-like motifs appear to float on glossy polished surfaces and then dissolve into the depths of the material. ‘Artists see the depth of surfaces as something only lacquer can achieve, with layers and layers of light,’ [Masami Yamada, the Victoria & Albert Museum’s curator of Japanese art] said. …

“A year and 10 months after the quake, the road to Wajima — which had buckled, complicating rescue efforts — remains a roller-coaster patchwork of construction barricades and earthmovers. But it still boasts panoramic vistas of the Sea of Japan, lush rice terraces and cedar forests. …

“The peninsula’s geographic isolation has protected it from modernization efforts, unlike so many other parts of Japan, said Masanori Aoyagi, director of the Ishikawa Prefectural Museum of Art and the country’s former commissioner for cultural affairs. ‘It has a preserved quality, sustaining its own ecosystem of nature and kogei’ (pronounced ‘ko-gay’), he said, using a term for Japanese traditional crafts. ‘It’s a fragile and vulnerable land and culture that really deserves care.’ …

“As Wajima rebuilds … the nurturing of young talent is a top concern. Kunie Komori, a Living National Treasure who harvests bamboo from nearby hills and hand-weaves it for his lacquer art, directs the Ishikawa Prefectural Wajima Urushi Art Technical Training Center, which closed for nine months from quake damage. It received government support to house its 34 students, only two of whom are from Wajima.”

More at the Times, here. Wonderful visuals.

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Photo: Suzanne and John’s Mom.
Exhibit at Concord Art, November 30, 2021. Researchers have found that visiting galleries and museums to look at original art is good for your nervous system
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The other day, I was talking with a staff member here about her plans for the weekend, and she told me she wanted to go into Boston Sunday and visit an art museum or gallery. I am always impressed when anyone drives to Boston: the one-way streets are confusing and the parking is awful. She surprised me by saying, “Parking’s the easy part. There’s a lot of free street parking on Sundays.”

After reviewing today’s articles, I can hardly wait to tell her that what she was doing for fun is also good for her health.

Rhea Nayyar wrote recently at Hyperallergic about new research suggesting that museums and galleries are “non-clinical spaces for preventive health promotion. … Supporting existing research on the benefits of viewing original artwork versus reproductions, a new study found that seeing authentic art can help drop cortisol levels, among other positive effects on the nervous system. …

“ ‘The Physiological Impact of Viewing Original Artworks vs. Reprints: a Comparative Study‘ was conducted by researchers from the Department of Psychological Medicine at King’s College in London working in collaboration with the Courtauld Institute of Art.

“Fifty adults between the ages of 18 and 40 participated in the experimental study — one half was made to view five authentic paintings with their wall labels in a gallery setting for a 20-minute period, while the other half was shown high-quality reproductions of those paintings in a similarly curated setting. All participants had their heart rate and skin temperature monitored, and they provided saliva samples before and after the viewing sessions.

“The selected works (and subsequent reproductions) were all late 19th-century figurative paintings by European artists from the Courtauld’s collection: ‘Jane Avril in the Entrance to the Moulin Rouge‘ (c. 1892) by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec; ‘A Bar at the Folies-Bergère‘ (1882) by Éduoard Manet; ‘Banks of the Seine at Argenteuil‘ (1874) by Éduoard Manet; ‘Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear‘ (1889) by Vincent van Gogh; and ‘Te Rerioa (The Dream)‘ (1897) by Paul Gaugin.

“The recorded data showed that those who viewed original artwork had higher heart rate variability patterns compared to the reproductions group, indicating that authentic viewing experiences contribute to a more receptive and adaptable nervous system. The post-viewing saliva samples also yielded a 22% cortisol decrease among the original art group, as well as a measurable drop in two of four recorded inflammatory proteins. …

“[The researchers likened] the stimulated but calming response elicited to that provoked by exercise or meditation.”

That supports University of Pennsylvania research described by Hyperallergic‘s Elaine Velie in 2022.

“ ‘Art museums have great potential to positively impact people, including reducing their stress, enhancing positive emotional experiences, and helping people to feel less lonely and more connected,’ researcher Katherine Cotter told Hyperallergic.

“The study, titled ‘Art Museums As Institutions for Human Flourishing,’ was published in the Journal of Positive Psychology by Cotter and James O. Pawelski of the University of Pennsylvania. Their work is encompassed in the burgeoning field of positive psychology, which studies ‘the strengths that enable individuals and communities to thrive.’ Drawing on research from different academic disciplines, the study is part of an initiative that examines how the arts and humanities affect ‘human flourishing’ — a comprehensive framework that takes into account both ‘ill-being’ (living with disease, disorders, or in negative states) and ‘well-being’ (practicing positive health habits). …

“Cotter and Pawelski compiled and reviewed over 100 research articles and government and foundation reports. They discovered that visiting a museum reduced stress levels, frequent visits decreased anxiety, and viewing figurative art lowered blood pressure. They also found that museum visits lowered the intensity of chronic pain, increased a person’s life span, and lessened the likelihood of being diagnosed with dementia.”

More at Hyperallergic, here, and here.

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Photo: Isa Farfan/Hyperallergic.
A series of sketches created by Melody Lu during a life drawing session.

I’ve always been fascinated by how many different kinds of jobs there are in the world, but I’ve seldom delved into what it feels like to be in an unusual job. I know how it feels to be a waitress, a school teacher, and an editor, and that gives me sympathy for workers in those fields. Other people feel the same. It seems that generous tippers in restaurants have often known firsthand what it means to be on the other end.

Now Isa Farfan at Hyperallergic has given us a glimpse into the life of art models. It was a revelation to me.

“Aaron Bogan, a professional art model and illustrator originally from New Jersey, moved to New York City last year from the Bay Area, attracted in part by what he described as an ‘abundant’ modeling scene. For the past 20 years, Bogan has been a life drawing model, a physically demanding contract-based profession.

“ ‘Figure models are the blue-collar workers of the arts,’ Bogan said. ‘I don’t think anybody knows the amount of physicality and mental fortitude it takes to do what we do on stage.’

“In California, Bogan was part of the Bay Area Models Guild, which claims to represent some of the highest-paid figure models in the country, negotiating a minimum $50 hourly wage for their models. Though Bogan said he finds himself working more hours in New York City than ever before, he is earning just $22 an hour, above the minimum wage but below the living wage at standard full-time hours. On the night he spoke to Hyperallergic, Bogan had worked intermittently from 9 am until around 10 pm. He said he models six or seven days a week.

“A typical three-hour open drawing session begins with artists filing into a studio arranged expectantly toward an area where a model will disrobe. Nude, the model contorts into poses, ranging from sitting cross-legged on the stage to elaborate stances involving chairs, poles, and, for Bogan, katana swords. The relationship between the model and the student is demarcated by a stage, and for the artist, tucked behind a sketchbook or easel, the hours go by quickly, almost prayerfully. For the model, the work can be a gratifying form of artistic expression or meditation, but the postures are physically exerting. Standing poses, Bogan said, led him to develop a painful ulcer on his leg, which required a $430 emergency room visit earlier last October. He went back to work the next day.

“ ‘We’ve all been through pain on the inside and outside, and we bring it all on the stage,’ Bogan said. ‘We’re all smiling, and we’re all doing everything on stage, but nobody knows that when you’re on stage, it looks like you’re stoic, but on the inside, you’re breaking.’

“Despite playing a consequential role in visual arts institutions across the country, art models, also known as figure models or life drawing models, are struggling to cobble together a living between unreliable hours and varying wages, according to nine models interviewed by Hyperallergic. Many of the models, most of whom are artists themselves, reported feeling overlooked in the art world despite their prevalence in educational institutions.

“On Wednesday, December 17, members of the Art Students League, which currently contracts 80–90 models depending on class needs, will vote on a new board. As the institution marks its 150th year, the newly formed Art Students League Model Collective is asking incoming leadership to hear their concerns for improved labor conditions, including raising their $22/hour rate, offering more stable working hours, and providing up-to-date heaters and amenities. 

“The models interviewed by Hyperallergic, some of whom spoke on the condition of anonymity out of fear of losing work, also hope that sharing their stories will lead to increased respect for the profession. 

“Anna Veedra, an art model who does not work for the Art Students League, is leading the push for change at the institution through her advocacy organization, The Model Tea Project. Veedra is sending a survey to art models across the country, an initiative she told Hyperallergic would ‘provide the model community with data to match their lived experience.’

“Veedra said she prefers flying to California to take jobs, including at animation studios, rather than working in New York, where institutions like Parsons and the New School pay around $20–25 an hour, according to models who work there. …

“In preliminary data shared with Hyperallergic from 41 models heavily concentrated in New York City and at the Art Students Leagueover half of the respondents reported being unable to save any money for retirement or emergencies.

About half of the models said they relied on public assistance programs, including food stamps and Medicaid.

“Most models surveyed by Veedra earned below $35,000 per year, including supplemental income. Some models Hyperallergic interviewed had other jobs. A few relied on bookings entirely. 

“In a statement, a spokesperson for the Art Students League said the atelier-style institution was ‘committed to providing a safe and inclusive working environment for the models who devote their time and expertise to aiding the practice of life drawing in our studios.’

“ ‘Models are vital members of our community and the League’s administration regularly holds meetings where models can share feedback and voice concerns,’ the spokesperson said. The institution did not answer questions about whether it had plans to raise pay for models or confirm its hourly rate for models. 

“The Art Students League was established in the 1870s in part to increase opportunities for artists to draw life models. A century and a half later, models are hoping it could set a high standard for the industry.

“One model who works at the Art Students League and spoke to Hyperallergic called the pay ‘insulting for the type of work that it is.’ Another model said he felt the institution ‘completely take[s] us for granted.’ 

“Robin Hoskins, an art model from Cincinnati who works at art schools across New York City as an independent contractor, said she became so ‘desperate’ that she was searching for retail jobs earlier this year. … She wishes people would appreciate the elegance and stamina required to pose for artists.

“ ‘We’re human beings, you know, and we want to be understood and appreciated for the work we’re putting in,’ Hoskins said. ‘But, most importantly, we need to be able to have a dignified wage and be able to earn a decent living, just like anyone else in any other successful profession.’ ” 

More at Hyperallergic, here. No paywall. Subscriptions encouraged.

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Art Photos

Photos:John and Suzanne’s Mom.
Joy Muller-McCoola’s fiber art piece “Rising,” at Lexington Art.

Textile artist Ann often digs me out of my rut to go see some fiber art and afterward have a nice lunch somewhere close by. Most recently, we went to a beautiful show at the Lexington Arts and Crafts Society in Lexington, Massachusetts.

I was drawn to the piece above because I love islands. This one is emerging from the sea in an unspoiled form. It felt hopeful. Below is one called “Sky with 7 Sheep.” It practically leapt from the wall.

After that, you can see the lovely “Light Breaking on Water,” by Ann Scott. And Sandra Mayo’s “The Way We Touch the World,” with the gloved hands, was intriguing.

What do these pieces mean to the artists? one wonders. What do they mean to me at a moment in time? And do meanings change?

That got me thinking that I never posted pictures of some works that I liked last fall at Concord Art. So I’ll add them now and wind up with my own attempt at an artsy photo. We can call it “Dawn at the Gym.”

Here is Nancy Mimno’s “Dragon.”

Sarah Bossert created “Four and Twenty Blackbirds.”

Below, Carol Rabe’s “Late Night Snack.”

“Dawn at the Gym.”


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Photo: Met Museum via Wikimedia Commons.

When a woman in Minneapolis died at the hands of government forces recently, I was impressed with a wise Twitter comment about how much you really have to look at something before speaking. @JeninYounesEsq began by saying, “I’m a former defense attorney and currently a civil liberties attorney with no political dog in this fight. I watched the video at least 10 times from different angles and at different speeds and waited to offer an opinion, which I still reserve the right to change if additional information changes the calculus.”

I thought about that when reading a Sarah Bahr “Times Insider” piece at the New York Times. It’s about how we all can train ourselves to notice more.

Bahr says, “When the New York Times reporters Larry Buchanan and Francesca Paris read about a Harvard art history professor who directed her students to spend three hours looking at a painting or a sculpture of their choice, they were intrigued. The assignment was designed to force students to slow down, to really focus on what is in front of them.

“So, Mr. Buchanan and Ms. Paris, who work on [the Times] Upshot desk, wondered: Could they recreate this experience virtually for Times readers?

“ ‘That is the hope of the series: Can we train you to focus? Can we help you think about these things in slightly different ways?’ said Mr. Buchanan, who has a fine arts background and whose work often explores the intersection of art and journalism.

“The first edition in the series titled ‘Test Your Focus: Can You Spend 10 Minutes With One Painting?‘ was published in July of [2024] — and readers, it turned out, were up for the challenge. One in four readers stuck with that painting, James Whistler’s 1871 ‘Nocturne in Blue and Silver,’ for the full 10 minutes — or, at least, kept it open in their browsers.

” ‘Giving readers a small but mighty reminder that you can slow down is a pretty powerful thing,’ Mr. Buchanan said of the more than 750,000 readers who spent some quality time with Whistler. ‘We were surprised how many people stayed.’ (The highest success rate of the series to date, he said, has been one of the Unicorn Tapestries from the late Middle Ages.)

“Each new installment in the series, which arrives on the first Monday of each month in the inboxes of newsletter subscribers and also appears online, draws from a mix of well-known and lesser-known work. Past challenges have included an Indian painting made in the foothills of the Himalayas in the early 1800s; Pieter Bruegel’s ‘Hunters in the Snow‘; and Vincent van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night.’ … The most recent edition features the Dutch artist Margareta Haverman’s ‘A Vase of Flowers.’

“Mr. Buchanan, Ms. Paris and Nico Chilla, a graphics multimedia editor at the Times who produces the interactive elements of the series, introduced their first abstract work in April: Lee Krasner’s ‘The Seasons.‘ A technical glitch meant that some readers initially saw a blue square for 10 minutes, but many stuck with the exercise anyway.

“After producing the series’s initial Whistler piece, Mr. Chilla, who has a background in digital design, worked with Mr. Buchanan and Ms. Paris to solicit feedback from readers about their experiences.

“ ‘The time was visible always in the first one, and people didn’t like that,’ he said of the on-screen timer, which they removed after the first challenge. ‘And we initially had a few prompts for how to look at the artwork, but a lot of people complained: “The words are getting in my way.” ‘ …

“Though the pieces offer ultraclose zoom capability, overall, they are purposefully free of distraction.

“ ‘We really want simplicity — just you and the image,’ said Mr. Buchanan, adding that the team had vetoed developing a challenge around a sculpture (for now), fearing that the 360-degree viewing experience required to fully take it in would be too distracting.

“For the team that works on the series, the project has been an enlightening experience. Mr. Buchanan said he had begun noticing subtle things in his own life, like how cracks zigzag across the sidewalk, or the way light hits the water, or the way a plant is squeezed against a rock. …

“Ms. Paris, who proudly proclaims herself the ‘art newbie’ on the team, adopted the exercise in real life, spending an hour at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Théodore Géricault’s 1818 painting ‘Evening: Landscape with an Aqueduct.’

“ ‘It was a great hour,’ she said. ‘I like to think it’s made me linger a little longer with art and nature. It’s not life-changing, but I’ve never regretted the extra time I spent looking.’ …

“Readers’ comments have also been gratifying, Mr. Buchanan said. One man even devised his own version of the challenge: Look at a single piece of art for a total of 100 hours. He sends Mr. Buchanan periodic updates about his quest via email.

“ ‘I love that this has taken on a life of its own,’ Mr. Buchanan said.” More at the Times, here.

Would you want to try this, too? Maybe at a blog that has great art or photos. Rebecca at https://fakeflamenco.com/, for example, often does intriguing things with her camera. And Artist Meredith Fife Day has looked carefully for hours at the ficus she has painted in all its moods.

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Photos: Isa Farfan/Hyperallergic.
A light well at the recently reopened Studio Art Museum in Harlem.

Suzanne and Erik lived in Harlem before they moved to Rhode Island. They loved their apartment, and they loved being able to enjoy so many of the things New York City has to offer. One of the attractions of Harlem itself was the Studio Art Museum, which now has an impressive new building, after being closed from 2018 to 2025.

Isa Farfan writes at the art magazine Hyperallergic, “The Studio Museum in Harlem has a new, stunning home.  The 57-year-old New York institution, dedicated to artists of African descent, [has] inaugurated its new building. …

“Founded by a group of artists and activists, the museum closed its 125th Street location in 2018 to undergo construction of a new building, the first specifically created for the arts institution. The Studio Museum originally opened at a site on Fifth Avenue before moving to its current home on 125th Street and Adam Clayton Powell Jr. Boulevard in the 1980s, the former New York Bank of Savings building. The striking 82,000-square-foot (~7,618-square-meter) new building at the same site was designed by Adjaye Associates with Cooper Robertson. …

” ‘I have truly missed having our physical space,’ Director and Chief Curator Thelma Golden told Hyperallergic. ‘In the years we’ve been closed, our visitors, friends, members, and artists have made it known how much they miss us; everywhere I go.’

“The museum is debuting a series of inaugural exhibitions, including ‘Tom Lloyd,’ a one-gallery career survey of the artist-activist’s flashing light sculptures. Works from the museum’s approximately 9,000-item collection span three galleries as part of the exhibition ‘From Now: A Collection in Context,’ which will feature a rotating display.

“Though the construction was delayed in part due to the COVID-19 pandemic, Studio Museum Curator Connie Choi told Hyperallergic that the extended timeline gave the institution a chance to look deeper within itself.

” ‘It allowed us the opportunity to do a deep dive into understanding our collection holdings, to do research, conservation, and framing,’ Choi said. ‘We’ve also done a deep dive into our institutional history in a way that we haven’t been able to do before.’

” ‘We thought very hard about how to be present while closed,’ Golden added. During its seven-year closure, the institution launched several collaborations, including the traveling exhibition ‘Black Refractions: Highlights from The Studio Museum.’ …

“Choi said she’s most excited about the Lloyd survey, noting that he was the first artist to participate in the museum’s studio program.

” ‘It’s a space of contemplation, even as the works themselves are blinking and exciting,’ Choi said. ‘We are hoping that people can slow down; they are coming off of 125th street, which is the busiest street in Harlem, into a space that allows a moment of rest and respite and contemplation of artwork.’ “

More at Hyperallergic, here. The photos of the new building really make me want to see it.

Elizabeth Catlett’s “Mother and Child” (1993) on display in “From Now: A Collection in Context” at the Studio Art Museum.


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