Tag Archives: art

Because sometimes favors can make you cry.

 

My SIL called a month or so ago and said she was redecorating a room in her house. Living in Texas makes her homesick, so she asked if I could make copies of some of my father’s Maine paintings and mail them to her.

My late father was the Vice President of a Wall Street brokerage firm who relaxed as a weekend artist. He loved nothing more than sharing his work…. so I happily agreed.

Sadly, my father died a year after he retired and only had a short period of time to paint when we moved from New Jersey to Maine. We were very close, but that particular year was hard for me. It was transitional…. and moving to a rural Island where the only way off was by boat was a huge culture shock for a 15 year old city girl. I was knee deep in silly teenage angst and didn’t spend nearly enough time with him.

Something I will always regret.

So when I started pulling paintings?

 

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I was a wreck.

 

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My father died  41 years ago….

 

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But I cried like it was yesterday.

 

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Grief.

Sometimes it never lets go…..

 

 

 

Farnsworth Part 2…..

 

Continuing our stroll around the museum, we found abstract landscapes…

 

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A necklace challenged woman…

 

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And a large amount of love.

 

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The husband still had that  what the hell am I looking at  puzzled look on his face… and read all the detailed descriptions in hopes of enlightenment.

 

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And speaking of light….

 

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While I’m generally not a fan of realism, the play of light and shadows in this piece were spectacular.

 

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And now?

Behold….

 

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I found a rock!

 

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As well as a nude on a mushroom.

Bet you’ve never seen that before.

 

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Upstairs we found the Maine gallery.

 

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Which welcomed us with bloody fish guts.

I’d have preferred an apple martini, but whatever.

 

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There were Maine scenes.

 

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Including this melancholy piece of women waiting for their men to return from the sea.

 

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There was an extremely long panoramic of Main Street, Rockland in the 1800’s.

 

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Did you know it’s known as the Lobster Capitol of the World?

You do now.

 

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There was a model ship, which after those amazing examples we’d seen in Virginia…. looked like a 4 year old had built it.

 

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Btw… did you know it’s bad luck to say the word pig on a lobster boat? I’ve known fisherman who won’t even bring a ham sandwich on board…. though no one could ever tell me where that started.

 

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What does this have to do with Maine? Other than the fact it’s made with seashells, I have no idea.

I’ve certainly never seen a lobsterman wear one.

 

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I’ve also never seen one wear that.

For which I am quite thankful…..

 

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Done with the museum, I picked a restaurant on the Camden waterfront.

 

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It had a nice view.

 

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And a tasty Maine sipper.

 

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But the husband wasn’t satisfied with the small lunch menu, so we just had clam chowder….

 

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And wondered when that eagle was going to swoop down and snag a piece of fish.

Though I suggested a few other places to eat, the husband opted for Chinese take out…

 

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Which was disappointing, again. It seems no matter how many places we try, they’re always awful.

My shrimp lo mien? Tasted like soap.

The beef and broccoli? Like they used Alpo for sauce.

Blech!

The Farnsworth Art Museum, Rockland, Maine…. A. Wyeth, a fiber crow and some claws.

 

This is a place I’ve always wanted to visit but never have… so on a rainy, blustery day a while back? We did.

The Farnsworth  is famous in these parts for it’s extensive collection of Maine artists….

 

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With the Wyeth’s being front and center.

I’ve always liked Andrew, and on the day we visited there was a special exhibit of his work from WW1.

 

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Art is a strange thing, and totally subjective… so what moves me might leave you flat.

But hey, it’s my blog. My choice.

This simple painting of a helmet filled with pine cones for example.

 

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You’ll have to pardon the reflections in a lot of these shots…. it’s nearly impossible to avoid with the bright gallery lights and glass.

 

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While not known for his portraiture…

 

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This series of photos showing Wyeth at work was quite interesting.

As was the case filled with drawings he did at the age of 8.

 

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Huh…

I’m pretty sure my 8 year old artwork looked something like this:

 

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The next gallery showcased Wyeth’s Maine pieces.

 

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And trust me, they really capture the feel of our coast.

 

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There was also a section of these…

 

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Halloween!

 

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Which looked much better without the reflection of the paintings from the other side of the room.

 

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But you get the idea.

 

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Nothing says Halloween in Maine like a skeletal ship’s captain.

 

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Making our way through the museum we found a fiber artist….

 

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Who had some unusual installations…

 

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Proving that art comes in all shapes and sizes.

 

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Down the stairs and into the main gallery…

 

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A tribute to Maine’s agrarian culture…

 

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And it’s crustaceans.

 

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Yes, that is a marvelous pile of blown glass lobster claws.

 

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It should be noted that while I grew up strolling happily around MOMA in New York, the husband has absolutely no tolerance for modern art.

 

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And I have to admit….. watching him puzzle over what he’s looking at is half the fun of visiting museums together.

 

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I keep telling him that it’s more important to experience art, to feel it… than to understand it.

 

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But he just wrinkles his nose and says….

“Yes. But what the hell is it?”

 

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There were a few  Rockwell Kent  pieces….

 

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Whose work has sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

As well as this:

 

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A table to draw a self portrait.

 

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Which made me very glad we hadn’t run into this fellow.

To be continued….

 

 

 

 

Re-created art…. the finale.

 

Here are the last 3 examples I’ll gleefully share with childlike enthusiasm bore you with.

The original…

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The re-creation…

 

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I’m going to go out on a limb and say this fellow might have enjoyed the exercise a little too much.

The original….

 

 

The re-creation…

 

 

Proof positive modern life is lame.

And because this one literally made me snort, I saved it for last.

The original…

 

 

The re-creation…

 

 

Hope you enjoyed these as much as I did.

Because we all need a little more laughter these days.

A limited afternoon series.

 

For the next few afternoons I’m going to be my usual helpful self and give you something to do while you’re quarantining yourself at home like a good viral citizen.

Lately the net has been filled with clever and creative ways to occupy your time…. but I’m going to share one from the Getty Museum that really made me smile.

Since visits to their museum have been cancelled for the near future, they challenged their members to re-create their favorite works of art.

Here are some of my favorites:

The original…

 

 

The re-creation….

 

 

Kudos to this couple.

I don’t know what the hell he put on his head, but damn.

It works.

The original…

 

 

The re-creation….

 

 

I’m not sure Dali would approve, but I’ll give them an A for effort.

And finally, here’s one that’s better seen by side.

 

Brilliant, I tell you!

Simply brilliant.

Because I’m helpful.

 

Since we’re all staying home and social distancing in an effort to slow the spread of virus, we’re going to have a lot of time on our hands.

We can blog.

Or Read.

Or binge watch our favorite trashy Netflix series.

But for the crafty and artistic few among us?

Please feel free to steal this idea.

 

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Just be sure to post your versions when you do.

The rest of us are still bored.

 

A study in portraiture, some funky hairdos and a watermelon on wheels.

 

The portrait gallery was large…. and filled with strange and marvelous things.

 

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Can’t say I’d enjoy having her as a Mother in Law.

 

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They are smiling?

 

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Perhaps the weight of that elaborate hair is pulling their lips down.

 

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Oh my.

They say all babies are cute, but I beg to differ.

 

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This is a girl.

 

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And this is a boy.

No, I haven’t had too many margaritas.

It was explained to me that folk art paintings of little girls have cats… and folk art paintings of little boys have dogs. The hoop is also a boy’s toy, never played with by girls.

 

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Yes, another boy.

Could have fooled me.

There were a few sad paintings, like this one….

 

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Since all the family members in black are dead.

But there’s a chicken, so it’s not all bad.

 

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And while these two portraits aren’t the most skillful, they had the saddest story of all.

 

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Jonathan Bartlett was a black man who chose to portray himself as white…. in a heartbreaking statement of life in his time.

 

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Lightening the mood, there was George again….

 

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And whatever this was –

 

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I can’t even do a Name That Crap because I have no idea…

 

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Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum.

 

This was what I’d come to see.

 

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And with a nod to Abe, we entered.

 

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By definition:

The DeWitt continued…. George Washington, creepy dolls, weavings, and more Name That (not) Crap.

 

Aside from all the decorative items, the Dewitt had some pieces of historic interest as well.

 

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Here’s the father of our country casually leaning on a cannon. And if you look closely, you’ll see this…

 

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Yes, they even have George Washington’s jewelry…. which had been lost for nearly two centuries. It was rediscovered in 1990, when the daughter-in-law of a Virginia Beach woman descended from Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall found it in her dead mother-in-law’s jewelry box.

Just think… it could have been put in a yard sale. Or donated to Goodwill.

Damn. Another missed opportunity.

 

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Continuing past the silver, there were vast collections of porcelain and pottery.

 

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Complete with creepy ass vintage dolls.

 

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If you invite this little chicka to a tea party?

She’s going to nibble your fingers like biscuits.

 

 

By the amount of tankers on display, there was some serious beer drinking going on in the 18th century.

 

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Have I mentioned this place went on forever?

 

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It was fabulous.

 

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There was a section dedicated to indigenous art as well.

 

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And these were quite special.

 

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Even the husband was intrigued.

 

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Each piece had a story.

 

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But I’ll just give you one example.

 

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Two years?

 

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Damn. That’s dedication.

 

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George showed up again, though in iron this time.

 

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“Dumb” stoves?

I’ve cursed a few in my lifetime, but never knew they were actually a thing.

After George,  I knew I’d lost the husband.

 

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Because this is his idea of heaven.

They weren’t rusted, but these are just the sort thing he likes to fill our barn with.

( And if his were in good shape and displayed artfully like this? I wouldn’t half mind.)

 

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And because you know I can’t pass up an opportunity, let’s play Name That (not) Crap again.

 

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What is it …. #1?

 

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What is it… #2?