Tag Archives: paintings

The last batch.

 

But really, how can you not love these art re-creations?

 

 

Look at that woman!

Having her husband’s head on a platter has simply made her day worth living.

 

 

The nose is a little less spectacular, but okay.

 

 

Wow.

Im not sure which is more disturbing, the original or the remake.

 

 

Is it me…

Or does that guy look like George Harrison’s Indian guru from the 60’s?

 

 

Art imitating life, or life imitating art?

Either way…. that man is slaying it.

And now, the final picture.

Which couldn’t be any more relevant if it tried.

 

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…..

 

 

 

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.

Portraits continued…. funky hair, warts and finally, food.

 

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Crossing back over to the DeWitt side of the museum, things got a bit more formal.

 

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And a trifle bizarre.

 

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I think a little 18th Century photoshopping was in order here.

 

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Okay then.

 

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I saw the portrait of the gentleman on the left and thought, “What’s with the hair?”

 

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And apparently I wasn’t the only one who asked.

 

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It was an extensive gallery.

 

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And according to George…. will be even more extensive soon.

 

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Another sad statement of the times.

 

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This couple struck me as a little odd.

 

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Is it me or does the wife’s right arm look a wee bit…. off? As in, did the creepy husband chop it off and line it back up for the portrait?

We’ll never know.

At the far end of the gallery there was a video that was oddly mesmerizing.

 

 

And then on the way out there was a chair, which I forgot to photograph.

But George didn’t like it.

 

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Chairs that were no good for sitting.

Excellent.

 

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Through with the museum, we realized we’d not only skipped lunch but were now ready for dinner.

When I asked the husband what he was in the mood for, he said anything… so I picked a well reviewed barbecue restaurant in Williamsburg.

 

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And the husband didn’t like it from the minute we stepped through the door.

Why?

 

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Who knows.

They brought us yummy cornbread to munch while we looked at the menu.

 

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Which he also didn’t like.

Pulled pork sundae? Come on… what’s wrong with that!

I managed to talk him into staying for appetizers.

 

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So he had a chili he didn’t like either.

 

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I went with some spicy steamed shrimp.

 

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And while the rest of the customers were enjoying large platters of succulent looking food, he told me to pick another place because all they had on the menu was barbecue.

Gee. Who woulda thunk it?

People always think I’m the picky one, but when it comes to eating out my husband will drive you to drink.

Which in my case isn’t necessarily a negative…. but still.

 

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The second restaurant that night was Italian.

Everyone raved about Sal’s, so I figured, why not?

 

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He couldn’t complain about the menu being small.

 

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It went on for multiple pages.

 

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The garlic knots were perfect.

(Okay, I ate 4. Don’t judge.)

 

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The salads were fresh and tasty.

 

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My veal Marsala was tender, perfectly cooked and filled with wine soaked mushrooms.

 

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He certainly couldn’t complain his chicken parmigiana was a small portion.

Good God, it was huge.

But you know what? He didn’t like this place either.

And heck, I’m the one who should have been complaining….there were no cocktails!

 

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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: