To me, this painting symbolizes movement of all kinds: dancing, singing, gestures, walking, breathing, existing, growing. There is a simplistic kind of impressionistic expressionism that smacks of introversion and an inner turmoil that can only be explained by these childish slashes of paint that is very appealing and I love it. I see everything from growing flowers to a flamenco dancer in the lines and between the lines is a world of unexplored pleasure and pain.
Tag: European Art
Sunday
Today’s work was by request of my niece, Charlotte, who is a wee dancer herself, and who recently had her spring recital.
Impressionist sculpture isn’t something that you really think of as a homogenous concept – it’s either realistic or abstractionistic, but as you look at what almost looks like brush strokes within the thumbworking in the original clay-casting, you get a feel for the impressionism that Degas tried to instill in his sculptures. There’s another bronze of his at SLAM that’s similar that I’ll cover at a later date that has similar working.
What I like most about this casting is that they aren’t afraid to go with the mixed media, adding in muslin and ribbon to add to the illusion of our little dancer being just as alive and bravely stepping out onto the stage as she would have been in her lifetime.
Truly, this is one of the prized pieces in SLAM’s Impressionist galleries, and with good reason.
Saturday
This particular gallery is a vast open space, as you can see from the first photo, with numerous works on all sides – the least of which being January, December, November. The gallery is part of SLAM’s newest expansion which is incredibly modern (made of concrete and glass) and a work of art in and of itself. The space feels as if it was purpose built to house this particular set of canvases, as you can see from the way they are displayed. If you sit on the bench closer to them, you lose the impact that comes from seeing them as a trio from afar – so in a way, the benches further back in the room are ideal for viewing.
January, December, November to me are very peaceful, relaxing, soothing pieces. They conjure up the static of old television sets, of the idleness of the mind creating dreams and conjuring desires in your sleep. They are an abstraction of idealistic, simplistic beauty, and I adore sitting before them and breathing them in like a healing balm.
Friday, Friday…
It’s really quite rare for jaded old me to come across something that moves my hardened old heart, but they opened a new exhibition in Gallery 100 with beautiful textiles and I am in bloody damn love. I was moving in a rapture from piece to piece, my eyes glazing over with passion, lust, glee, and everything in between… and then I saw something that took the breath out of my lungs, the proverbial wind from my sails, knocked me for a loop.
As simple as it might seem, this bedcover had me sitting down on the bench in the middle of the gallery and crying from the sheer beauty of it. The simplicity, the elegance, and yet the complexity and incredible amount of work that went into making the fabric make it a rare treat to have survived as long as it has intact. It’s an amazing feat.