Category: Art Exhibitions Page 1 of 4

Reviews of Art Exhibitions in NYC and beyond.

Questioning the Past at Rojas' The Theater of Disappearance. Metropolitan Museum of Art, Roof Garden. All photos Robert Ruben and Yvonne Korshak.

Art Review | The Theater of Disappearance by Adrián Villar Rojas | Metropolitan Museum of Art Roof Garden

On April 21, 2017

… the party’s over …

It looks like a party — all those banquet tables (my heart lifted as I thought we’d be served refreshments!) But don’t try to take a seat. Only one figure is seated at a table, and his plate is empty (left).

As you move through this world of white, you see the tables are cluttered with elegant but toppled empty goblets, plates and platters with ancient imagery, askew, moldy rolls, chicken bones and scavenger crabs. On others tables are recumbent figures, alive and dead, writhing humans entwined with tomb effigies. Black sculptures, with chalky white dust drifted onto them, surround and punctuate the “banquet.”

The Theater of Disappearance is saturated with paradox. The banquet tables are both tactile and ghostly, sensuous and without gratification. The interrupted meal is timeless, littered with artifacts from a conglomerate past. One thinks of tomb burials with beloved artifacts to accompany the deceased to the afterlife: like the Chinese Emperor Qin in the museum’s current exhibition three stories down in the museum.

Rolls with “faces”

Rojas has drawn on the world art collection below the roof of the Metropolitan Museum — underfoot you can say. You’ll find works of art and parts of works you may recognize., a South Sea Island house post, ancient Greek coins, goblets, fruit scraps, chicken bones and half-eaten hard rolls, heads, arms, bits and pieces of art conjured up here by the artist through computer photo digitizing and laser scanning, milled or 3-D printed, and then arranged, compressed, stuck together in a new world of shocking impact and visual fascination. Some images are drawn from living models, including the artist himself, and treated with the same techniques that create a fascinating realness. The sculptures are actually formed of urethane foam, and painted, the white ones bringing to mind the plaster casts which were the first objects in this museum’s collection.

Pride? Victory over the past? An African woman holds head of Tutankhamen as a victory trophy. Theme of black and white is carried through to the floor tiles, designed by the artist.

African woman with her trophy head of Tutankhamen, straddling an ancient Egyptian scribe as she covers his eyes with her fingers.

That color theme of black and white signals that this work contains the artist’s commentary on a current political issues including racism, gender inequalities, sexual preferences, colonialism — in general, the inequalities based on a history of oppression. For example, in a black statue (left and below) an African woman holds a trophy — the head of the Egyptian Pharaoh Tutankhamen, from a sculptured head of Tutankhamen in the Metropolitan Museum (directly below). It looks like she’s just decapitated him and is holding his head up in triumph. She also seems to be displaying his head to sell — hawking her wares in the market. She’s intact and alive in the sense of created from a living model while in symbolic contrast, the pharaoh’s head is fragmented and from a “dead” sculpture.

Head of Pharaoh Tutankhamen, sculpture, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Photo: Museum

African Woman with the head of Pharoah Tutankhamen, detail.

The African woman sits with her legs straddling another Egyptian figure, an ancient sculptured scribe. What a humiliating image of a man of a profession so often honored — scribe, a man of learning, a preserver of history.

A. Villar Rojas, The Theater of Disappearance, Metropolitan Museum Roof Garden, Summer 2017

Detail from sculpture of African woman holding head of Tutankhamen.

To top off his humiliation, her fingers, alluringly delicate, cover his eyes. conveying through ages-old symbolism that he is blinded to truth. She owns the truth now, she owns the past.

The powdery “dust” that covers the black figures, and that links them visually with the white banquet vignettes, calls to mind Duchamp’s embrace of the dust that settled on his groundbreaking The Bride Stripped Bare of her Bachelors, Even — one of many thought-provoking touches of conversation between artists in The Theater of Disappearance. Each of these vignettes is a full sculpture in itself.

An effigy lies atop a table serving as a sarcophagus, with a sleeping figure beside him, and a mask with tongue sticking out on hischest.

Vitality marks the black figures: in contrast, walking among the white tables is like visiting Romeo and Juliette’s crypt. The “banquet” tables become sarcophagi topped with effigies. One effigy lies with a sleeping though “live” cloaked figure beside him (right). The mocking mask on his chest sticks out its tongue.

Past and present. Taking in the sun. Photos Robert Ruben and Yvonne Korshak

A Musical Decomposition.

The Theater of Disappearance, Rojas' rooftop installation for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC, Summer 2017

A Musical Decomposition, detail.

One of these — my favorite — suggests a state of decomposition like early “transi” tomb sculptures that show the transition from intact body to a decomposed state — only instead of worms and beetles crawling in, out and over him, there are musical instruments, leading to what I take as the artist’s musical pun — I’ve tried to bring home the point and highlight the artist’s wit by captioning the photo “A Musical Decomposition.”

“Sasanian Plate” from The Theater of Disappearance, with bare animal bone.

Comparing a banquet vignette (right) with a Sasanian (ancient Persian) silver plate of the 5th century A.D. (below) shows a way the artist alters art objects to make his points, here about our exploitation of the planet and its resources — the way we’ve bled them dry. In the ancient plate, the King, dominant, central and

King Hunting Rams, silver plate, Sassanian, 5th century A.D., Metropolitan Museum of Art

Huge in scale, hunts wild rams under the auspices of the sun and moon — the gods. The scene applauds his mastery, shows his nearness to the gods and conveys his might, skill and control. Two rams are hit, and he’s about to kill the other two. It’s a celebration of mastery over the wild. Rojas incorporates that plate into The Theater of Disappearance (above) but there’s nothing left to celebrate — just a single animal bone — eaten, finished, done. We’ve exploited the wild until all that’s left are the bare bones –and the memory of it. The party’s over. and we’re left with empty plates. At least at the all-white banquet that, Rojas tells us, has lasted too long. Among the black sculptures, live appears more juicy and promising.

Couple, with masks, kissing

Which raises the question: is it possible in 2017 in the middle of New York City at the Metropolitan Museum to mount an exhibition with the color theme of black and white that doesn’t address issues of race, racial history, racial animosities as well as other concerns of social justice? The emphatic answer given by this exhibition, at least, is “no.” (And how the NY Times in its two reviews of The Theater of Disappearance missed it is beyond me.)

This sculptural ensemble has the fascination of ancient Pompeii, a living moment captured for all time — but in reverse. Drawing upon art from many periods and places, it captures all time for the moment. Ambiguities are everywhere. The past disappears, yet we can’t escape it. Every inch of this exhibition is alive with insight and stimulates thought.

The Theater of Disappearance will be on exhibition of the roof of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC, through October 29,2017. For more information on the exhibition and on visiting the museum, click here.

Art Review | First Look and The NY Times got it all wrong | The Theater of Disappearance | Adrian Villar Rojas | Metropolitan Museum Roof Garden

By Yvonne Korshak

On April 15, 2017

In Art Exhibitions

The New York Times got it All WRONG.
I kid you not.
* Friday, April 14, 2017, Weekend Arts II, “A Mini-Met Mashup on the Roof” by Jason Farago

It’s no mashup. My own review will follow as quickly as I can write it. Meanwhile, have a look …

For my full review, go up one or click here.

A Musical DEcomposition (my title)

A Musical Decomposition. Rojas' The Theater of Disappearance, Metropolitan Museum of Art Roof Installation Summer 2017

A Musical DEcomposition — detail

Strongman, Qindynasty (221-206 B.C.), Terracotta, H. 61 3/4 in. (156.8 cm), Lent by Emperor Qinshihuang's Mausoleum Site Museum.

Art Review | Age Of Empires: Chinese Art of the Qin & Han Dynasties (221 B.C.-A.D.220) | Metropolitan Museum of Art

By Yvonne Korshak

On April 1, 2017

In Art Exhibitions

… when China became China …

Here is an opportunity to see some of the most remarkable objects of art and archaeology excavated in China. Because some are so lavish, and in some cases unique, a number have been featured in Western publications including newspapers and magazines, but most have never been seen outside of China.The Qin and Han dynasties together make up the classical period of Chinese art and culture, when the basic forms of political organization and intellectual and artistic paradigms were formed. The key theme of this period, and of this exhibition, is unification of the vast territory of China under the powerful Qin emperor, Qinshihuang, and its maintenance and expansion in the Han dynasty.

Kneeling Archer, China, Qin dynasty (221-106B.C.), terracotta with traces of pigments,H 48 in. (121.9 cm), lent by Emperor Qinshihuang's Masoleum Site Museum. Photos Robert Ruben and Yvonne Korshak

Kneeling Crossbow Archer, China, Qin dynasty (221-106 B.C.), terracotta with traces of pigments,H 48 in. (121.9 cm), lent by Emperor Qinshihuang’s Mausoleum Site Museum. All photos Robert Ruben and Yvonne Korshak

It takes a powerful army to unify a large and disparate territory. When Qinshihuang died, he took with him to his tomb an army of life-size terracotta warriors, over 700 archers, cavalry, infantry and officers, all in full armor made of stone (representing the iron armor used by the emperor’s army), buried with him in the emperor’s mausoleum. In the first exhibition gallery, you’ll find several of the emperor’s army including the archer (right). Crossbows are difficult to draw — the archer had to shoot from a kneeling, rather than a standing, position. A modern replica of crossbow such as he would have held is near by. Through this elaborate terracotta army, we glimpse the emperor’s thoughts: he made sure he had in his mausoleum everything he needed and most enjoyed in life: the army was high priority. Images standing in for live people and animals certainly improve on human and animal sacrifice (a cultural practice replaced by including replicas in tombs here and elsewhere in the world of powerful leaders). In creating the terracotta army, molds were used, in different arrangements, to compose the bodies of the warriors but the faces were created with life-like individuality.

Chariot Model (Modern Replica, half-size of original), China, Original Qin dynasty (221-206 B.C.), Bronze with pigments, lent by Emperor Qinshihuang’s Mausoleum Site Museum.

Qinshihuang also made sure to have his chariots with him in the afterlife. In the first gallery, along with the warriors, are bronze chariots complete with braces of well-matched horses – though these in the exhibit are detailed modern replicas created half the size of actual chariot groups found in the emperor’s tomb. The chariot seen replicated here (left) was probably used in battle or on the emperor’s inspection tours. The emperor probably sat and perhaps slept in the other one with a covered enclosure while touring of the territory he had unified: and at his death that chariot likely carried his body to his tomb.

Inscribed weight, Qin dynasty (221-206 B.C.), Iron and bronze, H 7 1/2 in. (19 cm); Diam. 9 13/16 in. (25 cm), Wt. 69.7 lb (31.6 kg), Lent by Gansu Provincial Museum.

Inscribed weight, 221 B.C., Qin dynasty (221-206 B.C.), Iron and bronze, H 7 1/2 in. (19 cm); Diam. 9 13/16 in. (25 cm), Wt. 69.7 lb (31.6 kg), Lent by Gansu Provincial Museum.

Since political and economic unification go hand-in-hand, the standardized iron weight, also from the emperor’s tomb is as dramatic a demonstration of the determination to enforce imperial unification as military might. This exceptionally large weight weighs “1 shi,” translated as one “stone,” nearly 70 pounds. Significantly, the inscription dates it to 221 B.C., the year Qinshihuang, having completed his vast project of unification, assumed the title of “Emperor,” and it was so important the Emperor made sure this, and other standardized measures, were in his tomb (he died in 210 B.C. and his tomb was complete by 206 B.C.).

Strongman, Qin dynasty (221-206 B.C.), Terracotta, H. 61 3/4 in. (156.8 cm), Lent by Emperor Qinshihuang’s Mausoleum Site Museum.

Strongman, view from the back.

Found in a pit linked with Qin Shi Huang’s tomb is a lifelike terracotta sculpture of a “strong man,” excavated with ten other figures that evidently represent a troupe of acrobats. They would have performed for the amusement of the Emperor and his court, and through replicas were on hand for him after death. Strongman, and another like him once held steady a pole for another acrobat performing gymnastics at the top of it. The fleshy realism of his body, with the fatty rolls pushed up by the waistband (above left) , is unusual to Chinese art and the suggestion is made that it may represent some influence from Hellenistic art, notable for realistic depictions. On the other hand, it may serve to witness the careful eye of the Chinese sculptor impressed by the formidable anatomy.

The prosperous Han Dynasty (206 B.C.-220 A.D.)

Mirror, Han dynasty (206 B.C.-A.D. 220), Broze, Diam.7 5/16 in. (18.6 cm), Lent by National Museum of China.

Mirror, Han dynasty (206 B.C.-A.D. 220), Bronze, Diam.7 5/16 in. (18.6 cm), Lent by National Museum of China.

that succeeded the Qin expanded China’s borders, developed the archetypal Chinese bureaucracy, and consolidated and maintained the political centralization of the Qin. These themes are expressed in a portion of the inscription on the elaborately designed back bronze mirror of the Han period: “May the Central Kingdom [China] be peaceful and secure, and prosper for generations and generations to come by following the great law that governs all.”

Mirror, detail showing once reflective face.

Mirror, detail showing the once reflective face.

Although today the once-polished surface of the mirror’s face no longer reflects images, the inscription also bears this comforting thought: “When you see your face in the mirror, it dispels all harms and woes.” (I take it that was on a “good hair day.”)

Another object (not illustrated) gives a glimpse of the Chinese reverence for elders, a wood and bronze walking staff, with the image of a partridge on top, found with inscribed wood slips stating the special privileges the emperor accorded to elders. If you were over 70, this staff would enable you to enter government offices freely and not only that — you could walk on the side of the road otherwise reserved for the emperor. Great value would have been placed on keeping the emperor’s ceremonial side of the road clear so evidently there weren’t a lot of people over 70 in China 2,000 years ago – today the emperor’s side of the road would be crowded! But embedded in the wooden staff is an attitude: respect for elders, a tangible reminder of the value placed on respect for elders that to this day reverberates in China.

Hanging Lamp, figure with “Foreigner’s” features, Eastern Han dynasty (25-220 A.D.), Bronze, H 10 7/8 in. (27.6 cm), Lent by Hunan Provincial Museum. An attitude toward foreigners as inferior may be expressed in the figure in this lamp.

Works of art can surprise you by revealing attitudes you might not expect to find in them. This lamp is an example. The figure holding the bowl of the lamp has non-Chinese facial features: deep eye sockets and a notably large, high-bridged and outwardly curved nose (apologies that these features are not seen more clearly in the photo). He also has curly hair. Like these physical features, this type of lamp with a chain also points beyond China. This is a unique example of a chained lamp found in China but, on the other hand, chained lamps were common in the Greco-Roman world. In the Greco-Roman lamps, the human figures often have face and body features describing inferiors as they are held to be in that culture. they are servants or a slaves and — and there’s a joke here — within the artistry of the lamp, they are shown doing what servants do all the time: they ‘re carrying things for other people: the weight of the lamp. In parallel, the big-nosed foreigner bearing the weight of this Han period Chinese lamp likely expresses a cultural attitude that sees foreigners as “inferiors” — not proved, that’s my hypothesis.

The figure’s hollow body held the lamp’s oil which flowed from a small hole in his chest into the round bowl.

Burial Ensemble of Dou Wan, Western Han dynasty (206 B.C.-A.D.9), Suit: jade with gold wire; pillow: gilt bronze and jade; orifice plugs: jade. H. 67 11/16 in. (171.9 cm), Lent by Hebei Provincial Museum and Hebei Provincial Institute of Cultural Relics.

Burial ensemble of Dou Wan, detail.

Among the many ways the art found in the tombs – here and throughout the world — expresses the desire to live forever, Dou Wan’s jade burial suit is among the rarest. The hand wrought jade plaques, held together with gold wire and following the shape of her body, along with other jade plugs and disks, conferred immortality. The burial outfit included a gilded bronze pillow. Gold, used with jade in this burial, is precious for its rarity and brightness and also because, since it doesn’t tarnish, it “lasts forever”: thus it’s a symbol, and sometimes a guarantor, of immortality. This burial suit is unique and so valuable I am surprised it was allowed to travel outside of China.

With 160 objects, this is quite a large exhibition that drives home two themes: politically, the unification of China and, in terms of human hopes and fears, the desperate desire for immortality. In some ways, it’s an old-fashioned kind of exhibition, focused on articles from lavish tombs and the elite class. Perhaps to preserve some fugitive colors still present on some of these ancient works, such as the terracotta warriors, the lighting of the exhibition is low which does not bring out the inherent drama and beauty of some of the works of art. Still, this is an exhibition not to be missed. Many of the works are from provincial museums and museums far from the largest cities so that even if you lived in China, you might never see them all, and to see them here is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. There are many surprises and much to learn about the art and history of China’s formative classical dynasties which shaped the forms, institutions and values that are in many ways alive today.

Elephant and Groom, Western Han dynasty, 2nd century B.C., gilded and silvered bronze, Elephant H. 7 7/8 in. (20 cm), Groom H. 2 13/16 in. (7.2 cm), Lent by Nanjing Museum. Elephants were no longer present in this part of China (hunted out, climate change) so this group, from a prince’s tomb, represents a fascination with exotic animals.

Age of Empires: Chinese Art of the Qin and Han Dynasties (221 B.C.-A.D.220) will be at the Metropolitan Museum of Art from April 3rd through July 16, 2017. For more information about the exhibition and visiting the museum, click here.

Max Beckmann in New York, exhibition at Metropolitan Museum, NY, October 19-2016 -February 20, 2017

Art Review | Max Beckmann in New York | Exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum, NY | October 19, 2016 – February 20, 2017

By Yvonne Korshak

On October 19, 2016

In Art Exhibitions, Dance | Ballet

… great expressive power …

Max Beckmann was one of the greatest artists of the 20^th century. In a way, his tragic vision was the truest.

The exhibition includes works made during the three years he spent in New York at the end of his life and works that may have been made elsewhere but are in New York collections. The focus is on paintings — Beckmann was also a draughtsman, printmaker, sculptor and writer — and though not comprehensive it brings to the viewer the full range of Beckmann’s painting.

Max Beckmann in his NY studio on East 19th Street, with Hanging Man (1950). Exhibition photo.

Beckmann (1884-1950), a German painter associated with German Expressionism(though he rejected that association), was essentially squeezed out of Germany by Hitler and the rise of fascism. He was one of those “Cubists, Futurists and Expressionists” who were all, for Hitler, “degenerate artists” and “corrupters of art”.

Marginalized and persecuted in his own country, Beckmann with his wife weathered World War II in a self-imposed exile in Amsterdam and after the war, came to the United States, first to Washington University in St. Louis, that has the distinction of being the first to offer him a post-war opportunity to teach, and then to the Brooklyn Museum in New York which became his favorite city — the first being Berlin in the Weimar period following World War I.

Max Beckmann, Departure, triptych, o/c, 2932-2933, Museum of Modern Art, New York

Max Beckmann, Departure, triptych, o/c, 1932-1933, Museum of Modern Art, New York

For me, Beckmann’s Triptych, Departure, stands out as a masterpiece. The two side panels are agonized images, the central one offers a sense of escape. It seems prophetic, as if the artists understood the persecutions to come and sadistic tortures perpetrated in Nazi concentration camps. Hitler seized full power in January 1933.

Max Beckmann, Departure, left panel, detail

This was during the period Beckmann was working on Departure, and there appears to be a direct reference to the Nazi take-over and totalitarian directing of art: the hotel bell-boy beating the drum to announce the horror in the lower part of the right-hand panel (above) looks like Hitler’s propaganda minister and Beckmann’s enemy, Joseph Goebbels, charged with purging the “degenerate elements” out of German art and artists.

But the physical mutilations and agonized world view in this and other of Beckmann’s painting, though they look forward, also are rooted significantly in Beckmann’s experiences as a medical orderly during World War I which brought

Max Beckmann, Departure, right panel, detail

him into direct contact with physical pain and loss of life and limb, an experience so horrific that it led him to a nervous breakdown, today PTSD. It also remodeled his artistic psyche, leading him to abandon his earlier academic naturalism to powerful, unflinching emotional and philosophical expressiveness. He painted what he’d learned about existence and human nature in the university of violence and war.

Beckmann said that one can see in the right panel of Departure “… the corpse of your memories, of your wrongs, of your failures, the murder everyone commits at some time in his life … “ but the center panel, which he called The Homecoming,” offers a glimpse of hope. “The King and Queen have freed themselves of the tortures of life … Freedom is the one thing that matters – it is the departure, the new start.”

Max Beckmann, Quappi in Bllue in a Boat, 1926-1950, gouache and oil on paper and cardboard, 89.5 cmx 59 cm, private collection

Max Beckmann, Quappi in Blue in a Boat, 1926-1950, gouache and oil on paper and cardboard, 89.5 z 59 cm, private collection

Max Beckmann, Quappi in Blue in a Boat, detail

In an unexpected, and rare contrast, Beckmann’s painting of his wife. Quappi, in a blue bathing suit (left) strikes a delightfully positive mood.

A number of Beckmann’s major self-portraits are in this exhibition and one of the greatest brings with it a poignant story. Self-Portrait in Blue Jacket (below) was included in an important exhibition of painting in America at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Max Beckmann, Self-Portrait in Blue Jacket, 1950, o/c, 55 1/8 x 36" (140 x 91.4 cm), Saint Louis Art Museum, Bequet of Morton D. May, c. 2016 Artists Rights Society, NY/ VGBild-Kunst, Bonn

Max Beckmann, Self-Portrait in Blue Jacket, 1950, o/c, 55 1/8 x 36 in (140 x 91.4 cm), Saint Louis Art Museum, Bequet of Morton D. May, c. 2016 Artists Rights Society, NY/ VGBild-Kunst, Bonn

But, as the exhibitions’ curator, Sabine Rewald recounted, he did not attend the opening. Instead a few days later, he set out walking to the Museum to see his painting and on the way, was struck by a heart attack and died.

Rewald speculated with a trace of amused irony that if Beckmann were alive today, he would say of this exhibition, “Nice little show.” Perhaps she said that because he did so much. Beckmann painted and painted and painted – in Germany during the freedom of the Weimar period, under siege when Hitler took power, under siege again in Holland, occupied by the Germans where he was seen as a foreign enemy, and in the final liberating years in the United States. There’s nothing little about Max Beckmann in New York – it’s magnificent, and brings us close to the mind, heart and expressive power of this profound artist.

An illustrated and descriptive catalog accompanies the exhibition.

Max Beckmann in New York will be at the Metropolitan Museum, NY, through February 20, 2017. For more information and tickets, click here.

Max Beckmann in New York, exhibition at Metropolitan Museum, NY, October 19-2016 -February 20, 2017, two masterful triptychs, left, Beginning, 1949, right, Departure, 1932-1933

Parker's Transitional Object (PsychoBarn) reflected in the glass of Temple of Dendur gallery while museum Director Thomas Campbell speaks at the press opening

Art Review | Cornelia Parker’s Transitional Object (PsychoBarn) | Metropolitan Museum Roof | Summer 2016

By Yvonne Korshak

On April 24, 2016

In Art Exhibitions

… they never promised us a “real” garden …

Cornelia Parker, Transitional Object (PsychoBarn), site specific installation on roof of Metropolitan Museum, summer 2016

When is a house not a house? When it’s a Transitional Object (PsychoBarn) by Cornelia Parker, site specific installation for summer 2016, Roof Garden of the Metropolitan Museum

When I first saw photos of Cornelia Parker’s Transitional Object in a newspaper, I thought oh no, why do they have to stick an eyesore on the museum’s lovely roof garden. When I went to see it actually I found that it’s an intriguing eyesore, not what I’d like best to see on the roof but it does get you thinking.

Cornelia Parker's Transitional Object (PsychoBarn), view of the back showing scaffolding and water tanks used for ballast.

Cornelia Parker’s Transitional Object (PsychoBarn), showing scaffolding and water tanks used for ballast.

As you step from the elevator outside to the roof, you see in the far corner something like a house — but no, that can’t really be a house. First off, it’s not being glimpsed along the road on a drive in the country – it’s on the roof of an art museum (alert there), surrounded by the Central Park and the skyscrapers of Manhattan. And, if you had any thoughts this was some quaint touch for the summer roof garden, you fast find out from moving around it that the façade is a cover for a web of scaffolding, pipes and water tanks. The water tanks are practical as well as expressive: they are ballast to keep the structure in place in high winds. Adding to Transitional Object’s disquieting effect, the shiny mansard roof looks inconsistent with the heavily weathered siding which, we learn, came from an old red barn in up-state New York.

Artist Cornelia Parker sitting on the steps and chatting with a visitor.

Many associations and philosophical ideas are embedded in Transitional Object, as the artist, in person and in abundant accompanying written materials is quick to tell you. As a house facade with an insubstantial and old fashioned look, it recalls a movie set and it was in fact designed after the house in Alfred Hitchcock’s film Psycho, which like many movie sets is a façade with struts holding it up and no real back to it. Hitchcock designed the house in Psycho after one in a well known work of art, Edward Hopper’s painting, House by the Railroad in the Museum of Modern Art, NYC. “Psycho House” looms so large in the popular imagination that a version of it is a tourist attraction at Universal Studios but, for the sake of visitors, Universal built it not just a façade but a complete structure (click here for a terrific series of photos about “the house”). So we have a kind of conversation across culture, in which four of the “same” house, all differently constructed, all have something to say. There’s the Hopper painting, the movie set in Psycho, the intact Psycho House at Universal Studios, and now Transitional Object — to which we can add a fifth, the archetypal old house, haunted or otherwise, of the rural and small town American landscape, that rests in many of our memories and imaginations.

And then there are reflections …

Parker’s Transitional Object (PsychoBarn) reflected in the glass of Temple of Dendur gallery while museum Director Thomas Campbell speaks at the press opening

Which is the “real” house? In tossing into our thoughts the house with a history, Transitional Object shakes us up to think about what is really “real.” That philosophical questions underlies Transitional Object, moving it beyond amusing associations to a work with depth of meaning.

The artist is also interested in the view of the psychoanalyst, D. W. Winnicott, and it’s from his theories that she drew her title. For Winnicott, a “transitional object” refers to objects children seize upon, such security blankets and teddy bears, to provide comfort and enabling their developing independence from their mothers.

British artist Cornelia Parker, the artist, sits on the steps of Transitional Object (Psychobarn)

Artist Cornelia Parker taking the sun on the steps of Transitional Object (PsychoBarn)

As Parker commented, Norman Bates in Hitchcock’s Psycho failed to make that transition and so, taking on the persona of his own dead mother, he became a murderer of women. In this connection, the artist feels that Transitional Object, as houses in general, take on a symbolism referring to the womb. Visually, the array of pipes and water tanks in the back do suggest an external view of the inner parts of the human body, the things that we don’t ordinarily see, that we shouldn’t see, but are always with us. As a rich work of conceptual art, Transitional Object is loaded with ideas, more than I’ve said, perhaps even more than the artist has thought, some you may discover yourself.

And speaking of the living-dead — the stately decrepit structure with its guts exposed brings to mind Salvador Dali’s surrealist painting, Burning Giraffe. Have a look also at Dali’s Spectre of Sex Appeal. But Dali’s work is small, Burning Giraffe is 13.8 in x 10.6 in, and hangs on a wall, and through that alone is less in your face. Although not literally a public space, the roof garden of the Metropolitan Museum of Art functions much like a public space.

My preference for this outdoor summertime space is for a work of art that matches and enriches the loveliness of the setting, one that offers some of those emotions and sensations associated with “real” gardens (I know, I know, What is Real anyhow?). My all-time favorite — so far — is Tomas Saraceno’s Cloud City, on the roof summer of 2012. I like the installations that, like Cloud City, engage visitors physically while, with Transitional Object, we mainly look. To me, it kind of spoils the view … but, thinking about something rich and challenging is a worthy activity. This is a good place to go with a date – lots to talk about! And refreshments are available on the roof too.

Cornelia Parker’s site specific installation Transitional Object (PsychoBarn) will be on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum through October 31, 2016. For more information about the work, and about visiting the museum, click here.

Sections of the Telephos Frieze from the Great Altar of Pergamon, 2nd century B.C., in the foreground (Herakles Finding Telephos n the right), with, high in the background, photographs of some of the most central images from the frieze.

Art Review | Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World at the Metropolitan Museum

By Yvonne Korshak

On April 15, 2016

In Art Exhibitions

… from lofty gods to lusty satyrs …

Arial panorama of the ancient theater at Pergamon and surrounding terrain, poster of exhibition Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Panorama of the ancient theater at Pergamon and surrounding terrain, exhibition poster. Those steps were too steep for me — didn’t have the nerve!

Hellenistic Art covers huge sweep of three centuries from the death of Alexander to that of Cleopatra (323 – 30 BC) and in geography. Through the conquests of Alexander the Great and their aftermaths, Greek culture spread from the Gibraltar to India, casting a defining influence everywhere it went, while absorbing new ideas. Remarkably, this magnificent exhibit of Hellenistic art, with a focus on the city of Pergamon, is truly large and varied enough to give a fair idea of the whole, and to offer many examples of stunningly beautiful and profound works.

The Attalid kings who ruled over much of Asia Minor were in love with classical Athenian culture and — more politically – made use of the prestige and legitimacy the classical forms in art and architecture offered their dynasty. They endowed their capital, Pergamon (today’s Bergama, in Turkey), with everything needed for civilized life, paying lavishly – but then they were very rich – for large-scale works with inspiring civic and religious messages, expressed through mythic metaphors. Among these, and created at the height of their power and wealth, is the Great Altar of Pergamon and it’s just short of amazing that major sections of the sculpture from this altar are on exhibition here.

Scale model of the Great Altar of Pergamon.

Scale model, from the side, of the Great Altar of Pergamon

Reconstructed west side of the Great Altar of Pergamoon as seen in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin. From "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World" exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum, NYC

Reconstructed west side of the Pergamon Altar as seen in the Pergamon Museum, Berlin, 2nd century BC.

The scale model of the altar in this exhibition gives some idea of its composition. The altar was remarkably dense with great sculptures in very high relief: it’s often said that the designers had to dig deep into mythology just to find enough gods and demigods to fill those long sides – but then, they had the library at Pergamon, another outstanding Attalid achievement, for research!

The Great Altar is not in Turkey, where you might expect it. It’s installed in the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, where you can see it – indoors — in Photo. The museum in Berlin is currently closed for renovation, which is a reason so many great sculptures from Pergamon were available for this Metropolitan Museum exhibition.

Herakles Finding The Infant Telephos Suckled by a Lioness, from the Telephus Frieze of the Great Altar of Pergamon, found in a Byzantine wall in Pergamon

Herakles Finding The Infant Telephos Suckled by a Lioness, from the Great Altar of Pergamon, height 42 1/2 in., Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin.

Herakles Finding Telephos Suckled By A Lioness, detail of infant Telephos, from the Telephos frieze, Altar of Pergamon.

The infant Telephos at the lioness’ breast, detail from the Telephos frieze.

On the ends of the Great Altar are narrative moments of particular political importance to Asia Minor and the Attalids such as the relief of Telephos, an illegitimate son of Herakles who grew to become a great king in Asia Minor: a rival king, fearful of Telephos’ potential power, exposed the infant on a wild mountain but, seen in this relief, Herakles enabled his son to live by arranging for a lioness (here) to suckle him, the lion (as in Weary Herakles, just below) being Herakles’ particular animal. You can also see that Herakles in this stone relief is derived from the sculptor Lysippos’ statue of Weary Herakles (just below).

Among the 265 (!) objects in this exhibit, some of the most exquisite experiences are among the small-scale works, often made for the private enjoyment of wealthy patrons. Some of these are originals, and others are later copies, often scaled down, of earlier great works.

Weary Herakles (Resting Herakles) 3rd century B.C. Hellenistic bronze from Sulmona, Italia, from the exhibit "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World"

Weary Herakles (Resting Herakles), after Lysippos, Greek, Hellenistic period, 3rd century B.C, base early 1st century A.D., bronze and silver, height approximately 16 inches, Museo Archeologico Nazionale d’Abruzzo.

Weary Herakles (Resting Herakles) from the back.

It’s well worth taking a close look the Weary Herakles (Resting Herakles), a copy of a famous work by the sculptor Lysippos. Although no works from the actual hand of Lysippos have survived, sculptures such as this give real insight into the brilliance of his thinking that went in to making him so outstanding that Alexander the Great thought he was the only sculptor worthy of making his (Alexander’s) portrait. Herakles, in a parable of the life work of all mortals, has accomplished his many difficult labors and now, naturally enough he’s weary. After all, he was only human – later he became divine but not until he’d done all the work. The club of weary Herakles, draped in the skin of the lion he killed, has been repurposed: instead of fighting with it, now he’s leaning on it, his powerful body, like the limp lion’s skin, is giving in to gravity’s pull.

In an awkward, and therefore notably purposeful gesture (purposeful for Herakles and the sculptor), Herakles twists his right arm all the way to the back so it’s as far out-of-the-way of action as it can get. And if that were not enough, he rests his hand palm up on his buttock, a gesture that puts his hand into inactive alignment with the arm, (try it out and see how it feels). It’s his gesture of refusal. The left arm is nudged out of gear as well by the club digging in to the arm pit, nudging the arm away from his body, so that both his arms and hands are muscularly disengaged.

Weary Herakles has even arranged the lion skin to cushion the top of the club under his armpit –good idea, the club won’t dig in, Herakles has reached the point where he’s looking for comfort. With true genius, the sculptor thought through this work in these and other ways. No wonder it was one of the most popular works of antiquity – everyone wanted a copy (even for the Telephos frieze, above right) –and this fine small bronze is closer than many to the original.

Alexander The Great Astride Bucephalos, from the exhibition "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World" at the Metropolitan Museum, NYC

Alexander The Great Astride Bucephalos, Roman bronze copy of Greek original of ca. 320-300 B.C., height approximately 19 inches. Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples.

We meet up with Alexander the Great in this small bronze that shows him riding his horse, Bucephalos, in battle, and about to strike a blow, the sword hilt is still in his right hand, and the reigns of the horse would likely have been rendered in bronze strips.

Alexander The Great Astride Bucehalos, small bronze statue from "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World," Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC

Alexander The Great Astride Bucephalos, other view.

The young King’s hair is loosely tousled, a characteristic attribute in his portraiture developed surely with Alexander’s assent to express the personality he wanted to project: his divinely inspired and passionate nature. His hair springs out and away from the Macedonian diadem that encircles his head – speculatively one can wonder if that’s perhaps a visual metaphor expressing the thrust of his empire way beyond the borders of his Macedonian homeland — admittedly and interpretive stretch! The slim, lithe body forms also show the influence of Lysippos, Alexander’s personal sculptor (Weary Herakles above).

Satyr and Hermaphrodite, Roman marble copy of a Greek original, probably in bronze, of the 2nd century B.C., height approximately 39 in. Soprintendnza Speciale per i Beni Archeologici di Pompei, Ercolana e Stabia.

Hellenistic art abounds in erotica, though it’s important to keep in mind that in the ancient world the erotic often had religious and spiritual resonance. A Roman marble copy of a Hellenistic bronze shows an older satyr sexually molesting a youthful hermaphrodite. Satyrs are mythic creatures who are largely human but with some horsey attributes: their hybrid nature enabled the Greeks to

Sleeping Hermaphrodite, Roman, first half of the 2nd century A.D., copy of a Greek original, marble, in "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World" Metropolitan Museum, NYC

Sleeping Hermaphrodite, Roman, Roman copy of a Greek original of the 2nd century B.C., marble, length 148 cm., Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, Rome.

explore through them the fullness of human nature. Satyrs make visible and act out the animalistic vitality and lust within human beings, bringing us closer to ourselves, without the anxiety of rupturing social codes. After all, they’re not really us, right?! Hermaphrodites are hybrids of sort, too, part female part male – the word combining the names of the god Hermes and the goddess Aphrodite.

Sleeping Hermaphrodite, Roman copy of a Greek original of the 2nd century B.C. in "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World, Metropolitan Museum. NYC

Sleeping Hermaphrodite, other view.

Though inviting prurient interest (when I visited, this hermaphrodite was pushed tight against a wall in the Terme Museum, making it impossible to see the front of it) hermaphrodites have significant religious meaning as images of fertility: they are powerful all-fertile figures.

Portrait of Epickouros, Roman marble copy of a Hellenistic original, in "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World," MMA, NYC

Portrait Head of the philosopher Epikouros, Roman copy after a Hellenistic original of the first half of the 3rd century B.C., Pentelic marble, height approximately 16 in. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY

You can ponder the faces of great figures in history and culture, in portraits in this exhibit, such as the philosopher Epikouros, and poets Homer and Menander. You can even study the faces of those Attalid kings who were patrons of the Pergamon’s Great Altar, often styling themselves after Alexander the Great with his wild locks and inspired gaze.

Sow At Bay, Greek or Roman, Hellenistic or Imperial period, in "Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World, Metroolitan Museum of Art, NYC

Sow At Bay, Greek Hellenistic or Roman Imperial period. 2nd century B.C. – 1st century A.D., Bronze with silver inlay, approx. length 7 1/2 in. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

And you can enjoy charming genre pieces such as this Sow at Bay photo, a rough-looking creature, probably part of a sculptural narrative, bronze, the eyes preciously inlaid with silver to heighten the realism.

This bringing together of so many important Hellenistic works, including actual pieces from the Great Altar, makes this a once-in-a-lifetime exhibition, not to be missed. Many of the works have never been shown before outside of their home museums, and with a new renovation underway in the Pergamon Museum in Berlin, it’s highly unlikely that portions of the Great Altar will be removed again (unless in the future Turkey somehow successfully claims its rights to it). The exhibition is accompanied by a thorough, beautifully illustrated catalog.

In the foreground two sections of the Telephos Frieze from the Great Altar of Pergamon, 2nd century B.C.,, with photographs of the frieze of Gods Fighting The Giants in the upper background.

Pergamon and the Hellenistic Kingdoms of the Ancient World runs from April 18 – July 17, 2016. For more information on the exhibit, its curators, the catalog, and on visiting the museum, click here.

Vijay Iyer, creator of Relation: A Performance Residency, at the Met Breuer March 18 - 31, 2016

The New Met Breuer | Overview II : Nasreen Mohamedi | Vijay Iyer’s “Relation”

By Yvonne Korshak

On March 11, 2016

In Art Exhibitions

… continuing from Overview I … previous post …

Nasreen Mohamedi … and existentialism

With Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible on the third and fourth floors of the Met Breuer (previous post, Overview I), the inaugural exhibit on the second floor surveys in over 130 works the career of “Nasreen Mohamedi, an Indian artist, born in Karachi (British India, now Pakistan), who worked in a small format in tones of black, white, grays and taupe, most often using ink and graphite on paper, as well as black and white photography.

In the exhibition "Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible", Metropolitan Museum of Art, inaugural exhibition at the new MET BREUER, March 2016

The New Met Breuer | Overview I: The Building and the Inaugural Exhibition “Unfinished”

By Yvonne Korshak

On March 4, 2016

In Art Exhibitions

The opening of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s new space is a wonderful event. The Met has done this just right!

THE BUILDING

OVERVIEW I looks at the building by Marcel Breuer, and the inaugural exhibition, Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible.

The great modernist building designed by Marcel Breuer used to house the Whitney Museum of American Art but the Whitney left the Breuer building, on Madison Avenue and 75^th Street, and moved to a new building downtown. Now the Metropolitan Museum of Art has taken over the Breuer building to create its own new museum space for modern and contemporary art — and as far as I can see, they’ve done everything with great intelligence and dedication – and created a great contribution to cultural life.

First of all, they chose as a home for modern and contemporary art this controversial work of modernist architecture that expresses the process driven and assertive character of the art that will be exhibited in it. Like David, the relatively small Breuer building challenges the Goliath of New York City sky scrapers by being their opposite: it’s top heavy in contrast to the mandated, upward diminution of the sky scrapers and is inward looking in contrast to their glassy transparencies. Frankly and aggressively weighty with granite and concrete slabs, Marcel Breuer’s building turns its back on the illusion of soaring in favor of truth — to materials and to gravity.

The Metropolitan has made repairs and, in the words of Thomas Campbell, Director of the Metropolitan Museum “scraped the chewing gum off the floors.” But the Metropolitan has completely respected the integrity of the building — Campbell’s appreciation of the greatness of the building at an inaugural opening I attended was moving — and reassuring!

The Inaugural Exhibitions: (1) Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible

Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible is an exhibition of over 190 works of sculpture and painting from the Renaissance through contemporary art, each of in one way or another, of for one reason or another, unfinished or thought to be so – you can’t always be sure. Unfinished works by their nature offer glimpses into the artist’s process and thus into his thoughts – hence the title. And, as the overwhelming impact of this exhibit makes clear, they are no less beautiful or moving than works clearly brought to a finish. Some prefer them, the way sketches may be preferred, as an intimate glimpse into the artist’s mind that can be covered over by artistic polish.

There are many reasons – all represented in this exhibition – of why a work of art comes to us highly finished in one part and less finished looking – more sketchy, or roughed out — in others. The artist, or someone else key to the work of art (patron, portrait subject) may have died or had a change of heart about the work. Or, with Rembrandt who spoke about this, the artist just may know from the bottom of his artistic soul that a work is finished though the work may appear to others as unfinished. Or the artist may have a psychological reluctance to finish, as is speculated with regard to Leonardo.

From the exhibit Unfinished: Thoughts Left Visible, Metropolitan Museum of Art, MET BREUER Inaugural exhibit, March 2016.

Leonardo da Vinci (Italian, 1452-1519), Head and Shoulders of Woman (La Scapigliata), ca. 1500-1505, oil, earth and white lead pigments on poplar, 9 3/4 x 81/4 in. (24.7 x 21 cm), Galleria Nazionale di Parma.

But always in play, I believe, is the artist’s sense that the contrast between degrees of finish express profound meaning: the contrast between the tangible and intangible, the tension between spirit and matter, and – for me, most powerfully, a visualization of coming into being.

In Leonardo da Vinci’s Head and Shoulders of a Woman, the face of the woman is brought to a high level of detail and finish. Her face looks three-dimensional, even sculptural, tangible, “real,” in comparison with the diffuse drawing of the hair and shoulders. One may understand, in this ambiguous contrast, an expression of conscious awareness against a background of diffuse thoughts and feelings. Or, more bodily: just what it feels like to be a human being with a solid outside and flowing, tangled inner life. Or in the dialog between artist and viewer, the contrast may provoke thoughts in other directions.

Auguste Rodin (French, 1840-1917), The Hand of God, Modeled ca. 1896-1902, commissioned 1906, carved ca.1907, marble, 29 x 23 x 25 1/4 in. (73.7x 58.4 x 64.1 cm.), The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York,Gift of Edward D. Adams, 1908.

In The Hand of God, Rodin’s intention to convey creation through a contrast between the finished and unfinished is unambiguous. In the artist’s brilliant conception, and inspired by Michelangelo, form emerges from the unformed in God’s right hand. That hand, detailed, shaped, and functioning, itself emerges from rough stone, and holds the primal clod of earth — roughed stone — from which Adam and Eve, bodily but not yet aware — emerge. Rodin sculpted his own hand for this work, a testament to the artist’s identification with God the creator. Thus – like Michelangelo who inspired him — through the purposeful contrast between the formed and unformed Rodin expresses coming into being on all levels, physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual and artistic.

And Michelangelo and Rembrandt are in this exhibition, along with works from Titian to Pollock, van Eyck to Rauschenberg – work in turn inspired by The Hand Of God and yet another great Rodin and …..

But now I move on to OVERVIEW II which looks at the other inaugural exhibitions and some thoughts on the Metropolitan Museum’s choices in inaugurating the MET BREUER.

The MET BREUER and its inaugural exhibitions open officially March 18, 2016. For more information about the museum, the exhibitions, and visiting the MET BREUER, click here.

Art Review | “Roof Garden Installation” by Pierre Huyghe | The Metropolitan Museum of Art | Summer 2015

By Yvonne Korshak

On May 27, 2015

In Art Exhibitions

… only there’s no “garden”…

Paving stones are uprooted and water is tricking in and around — is the maintenance crew working on a leak? No. This is the new art installation on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum.

Huyghe’ roof garden installation, schist boulder

The site is magnificent, nestled in Central Park and among magnificent New York skyline views, but this installation, which has no title, is dull.

In the midst of it all, there’s a large, unworked boulder of Manhattan schist, the stone that forms the familiar outcroppings in Central Park, and supports Manhattan’s skyscrapers. Some stone dust scattered around the boulder is said to have shaken off during the stone’s transport to the museum, and the artist chose to leave where it settles.

Huyghe roof garden installation, the aquarium element

Huyghe ‘sroof garden installation, the aquarium element

The other major element is a large rectangular aquarium: inside it is a floating boulder of lava about the size of the schist boulder. Below that is a mound of sand with small swimming fish — lampreys, and tadpole shrimp we’re told in the written information accompanying the installation.

One can think about contrasts: the unworked boulder contrasts with the worked paving stones. Schist is more dense than lava. The yearly change of roof installation contrasts with the relatively unchanging genetics of the fish. The inclusion of the accidental grit near the boulder to the roof recalls Marcel Duchamp’s incorporation of of accident — the glass cracked in transport — into his work of art, The Bridge Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even (The Large Glass) about a century ag0 (click on live link to see it). He even incorporated the accumulated dust. What a wonderfully challenging work it is!

Conceptual art focuses on thought. But there’s nothing in this roof top installation that enlarges thought. Nothing is shared with particular insight, let alone wit or irony.

We might well have had something to enjoy in a more immediate, sensuous and inspiring sense. The Metropolitan Museum’s gorgeous roof installation of Cloud City by Tomas Saraceno three summers ago springs to mind — and other summer projects as well.

What a disappointing way to treat a summer oasis!

Better go downstairs and see Van Gogh: Irises and Roses.

Pierre Huyghe’s roof garden installation will be on exhibit through November 1, 2015, weather permitting. For information on visiting the exhibition and on current exhibitions, click right here.

Art Review | Van Gogh: Irises and Roses | The Metropolitan Museum of Art

By Yvonne Korshak

On May 21, 2015

In Art Exhibitions

… together and apart …

Van Gogh, Irises, 1890, o/c, 36 1/2″ x 29 1/8″ (92.7 cm x l73.9 cm), Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, Photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art

This is the first time the two paintings of irises and two of roses are exhibited together, the way van Gogh conceived them and in the order he painted them, four paintings, but monumental in terms of their importance for the history of art – like just about everything van Gogh did in his short life.

Yellow and violet, pink and green — complementary colors. How strong an intensity can I achieve by cramming together colors at the opposite end of the spectrum? is a question van Gogh asked himself. And behind that: how can I convey the clashing intensities of experience? He answered with these four great flower paintings.

Van Gogh, Irises, 1890, oil on canvas, 29″ x 36 1/4″ (73.7 cm x 92.1 cm), Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC

He had just recovered from one of his violent epileptic-like attacks. Gathering the flowers in the garden of the asylum at St. Rémy — a spare room in the men’s ward was his studio — he painted them in early May 1990 just before heading north to Auvers, where he (most likely account) ended his life two months later.

Near death and full of joy: in this as in everything, “van Gogh concerned himself with the holding together of things that are most fully opposed.”*

Van Gogh, Roses, 1890, o/c, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. Photo: MMA

You may be surprised, then, that the effect of the exhibition is not one of thrilling color juxtapositions: the paintings have faded considerably, and the colors are now far from van Gogh’s original intent. He noted that paintings fade like flowers but these have survived with less of their original color intensity than others of his works because he used some particularly fugitive pigments — how quixotic. How paradoxical: he knew, but did it anyway.

Van Gogh, Roses, 1890, o/c, 36 5/8″ x 29 1/8″ (93 cm x 74 cm), The Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC.

And they faded fast: as early as 1907, when his mother died, the once pink roses in his painting of Roses on a wall in her home were described as “white.” The fading of colors over time is clear in a montage (below) included with the exhibition of several dated images of the Roses. Dated photos show fading from pink to white of van Gogh’s roses (apologies for the violet tint in the photo but you can see the progressive fading in relative terms). Because of their linear strength as well as color, the Irises have maintained their power better than the Roses, particularly the vertical Irises in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.

Dated photos show fading from pink to white of van Gogh’s roses

The combined composition of the four paintings, together as conceived, is a counterpoint of rhythms and a teasing play of opposites. Vertical horizontal horizontal vertical, a b b a, plays off against irises irises roses roses, a a b b. He unifies the four paintings with a table edge, like a horizon line, but, as with the background, he varies the color of the table, a clear example of his sacrifice of naturalism for his expressive, even abstract, use of color.

Oppositions of violet and yellow, pink and green, vertical and horizontal, spiky “male” irises and fluffy “female” roses “of a hundred petals,” linear and painterly. And life and death. Weary stalks veer off from sprightly new blooms. Through color, composition, subject content and the touch of the brush in paint, all of van Gogh’s paintings are a, symbolically, paradoxical compression of the obdurate opposites of existence.

Detail of van Gogh’s Irises, Metropolitan Museum, NYC

And everywhere are van Gogh’s arrestingly passionate brush strokes, that aggressive impasto he so thoroughly possessed. There’s no fading there! (I wish, though, that viewers, talking would stop gesturing toward them: those impasto peeks are fragile. The effects of this kind of gesturing led the Museum of Modern Art to place van Gogh’s The Starry Night behind glass, at a loss of impact. (So please, don’t do it!)

The exhibition’s organizers have taken the opportunity to document van Gogh’s careful study of color theory, and have applied scientific techniques to analyzing his pigments and practices. Their discoveries are conveyed in a fascinating series of photos and other media, the montage of the fading Roses among them. How fascinating to see a digital reconstruction of what the colors in these paintings would have looked like when van Gogh first took them off his easel.

When van Gogh left the asylum in St. Rémy, three days after completing the last Roses, the paintings were still wet (what a vivid, exciting thought) and so were sent on to him later in Auvers, arriving toward the end of June. After his death, July 29^th , they were dispersed. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to see together these paintings that, like his series of Sunflowers painted in Arles two years earlier, van Gogh conceived as a whole.

Van Gogh: Irises and Roses will be at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City through August 16, 1915.

Yvonne Korshak, “From “Passions” to “Passion”: Visual and Verbal Puns in The Night Café,” in Van Gogh 100, ed. Joseph D. Masheck, Hofstra University, Greenwood Press, 1996, page 40.