Mattatuck Museum

Sunday, May 6th, I went over to Waterbury to visit the Mattatuck Museum. It was quite interesting! My first experience was that the woman who helped me was sort of unfriendly. When I asked about the photography policy, she interrogated me at length about why I had to have pictures, the nature of the class and the assignment, where the pictures would be published, what school I went to, who the professor was, etc. Then, she could not find the photo release forms (she said "well, there is a form you have to fill out and sign," as if that would deter me from taking photos! I told her, "fine, this isn't the only museum with that requirement - where is the form? I'll sign."), so she made me follow her to the curator's office, where she still could not locate the forms. Finally, she made me put all my information on a research permission form and basically swear on my life that I would not take a picture of the large Calder statue in the courtyard - or publish it. (Strangely, the side gate to the courtyard was open - I bet people were stepping in and snapping illegal Calder photos all day!) So once she was sure that I understood the importance of not photographing the big, red, three-legged cat (or whatever it was) in the courtyard, she released me to roam the museum on my own. I thought the museum was small, a little strange, and the lighting was very poor. I had to take the stairs up and down because the janitor comandeered the elevator to move chairs while setting up an event on the third floor. I did find a few treasures though. When I arrived, they were giving a lecture (though I did not get a chance to listen) on Kay Sage. She was an artist and more importantly, the wife of Yves Tanguy. They were discussing her collection, which the museum is exhibiting. She is a Surrealist and lived in France with her husband. They had interesting pieces on display, from childrens' artwork to sculptures and letters. If you get a chance, it is well worth the $4 admission price (if the people working remember to ask you for it - I had to ask them if they wanted me to pay them!). I did see some more Calder inside, including a sculpture (I think there was a similar Calder sculpture at the Met?). The museum also houses a very large collection of buttons, many made by the brass mills in the city. The older man working at the museum (he was nice and struck up a conversation with me) told me that during the Civil War, the people who made the buttons sold buttons to both the North and the South. Very interesting! Well, here is my final blog entry for this class (and my final assignment for my Bachelor's degree!) Enjoy the photos:

Here is the Calder "corner"

This one is neat - the artist is Rebecca Miller, playwright Arthur Miller's only child:

A child's bat, ball, and sled...

Thank you for stopping by!

Beth

Yale University Art Gallery

April 20th, I went back down to New Haven to see the art on exhibit at the Yale University Art Gallery. I realize I didn't take pictures of the entrance, but I did get a couple of pictures of the outside of the building the day before when I was visiting the Yale Center for British Art.

The Art Gallery is a beautiful building. It was the first major commission by Louis Kahn, who also built the Center for British Art across the street. The University Art Gallery, finished in 1953, has recently undergone a three-year, $44 million renovation. Yale's collection for the Gallery rotates with over 185,000 pieces of art. WebsiteAccessed



Here is the interior stairwell - a beautiful accomplishment of architecture by Kahn. I had an easier time photographing "up" than "down," as looking over the railing gave me vertigo. I thought I was going to drop my camera.


This is the piece that I chose to discuss:

Anselm Kiefer "Die Ungeborenen"
2001
Oil, acrylic, and plaster on lead and canvas

You should click on each photo to view in more detail. The first is a photo of the whole painting, but the consecutive photos show detailed close-ups of parts of the painting/sculpture.



From the audio tour:
"Anselm Kiefer was born in Germany in 1945. He combines powerful abstraction, complex narrative, and epic scale, to present Germany's difficult 20th century history. On a sheet of heavy, gray lead, Kiefer has dripped acid, paint, and plaster to achieve a lavishly textured surface.

The vast, dotted ground represents the cosmos, and alludes to the Old Testament passage in which God promises Abraham that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars, but look closely and you'll also see numbered stars. The numbers recall tattoos given to Jews entering the concentration camps in World War II. The painting's title, "Die Ungeborenen," or "The Unborn," partly refers to the children never born to the victims of the holocaust. Its imagery suggests both hope and loss. In the center of the image, a fragile branching tree represents the tree of life. The tiny garments attached to the surface are Kiefer's symbol of Lillith, a figure from Jewish folklore, and her many children. As a self-reliant woman, Lillith was traditionally perceived as an outcast, but Kiefer sees her as a positive force for change and growth. She works to help fulfill God's promise to Abraham and to all of humanity through both her independence and fertility.

Among museum conservators, Kiefers paintings are famed for their fragility."

If you listen further, there is a commentary by Jennifer Gross (of The Yale University Art Gallery) explaining that in choosing to acquire the piece, they had to consider its fragility and whether they would be able to preserve it properly. She explained how it is easy to damage the surface, especially those that are three-dimensional when being moved and stored. She goes on to explain that they were certain they could preserve it in the necessary manner.

She also mentions that the "acid" splashed on the surface (you can tell that one of the dresses is stained with it) is actually Kiefer's urine. (That alone might cause me to reconsider acquiring it, if it wasn't so moving and beautiful!)

I actually passed by this piece to begin with. It's kind of on a back wall when you are walking through - between two corridors - and there was a discussion going on adjacent to this piece, so I just walked past it and went down the hall. I'm glad I spotted it on my way back though! When I first saw it from a distance, I didn't think it looked like anything special. It looked like a big, gray mess. It looked drab and uninteresting and because of the small crowd around it, I almost did pass it by again. I realized that there must be something special about it to have a crowd gathered - so when they left, I stepped closer.

Before reading the plaque or listening to the audio information about the painting, I thought it was some sort of cosmic thing (good thinking, kind of) and the white part was a silver cord (it looked like it was coming up from somewhere. After reading/listening, I was profoundly moved. It was absolutely heartbreaking.

At first, I just read the plaque, which had only the title and gave no additional information (always go for the audio tour -imagine what I would have missed!! And, it was free!), I contemplated the title and thought that maybe it had something to do with abortion or maybe infertility. I recalled my own recent pregnancy and my life-long desire to have a child. I cannot imagine how sad, desperate, and unfulfilled I personally would feel with no child. I don't know about other women, but I often think about the very moment my child was created and all the other moments that have been missed (when the possibility of the creation of a child existed, but did not happen). I imagine whom those children would have been, what they might have looked like, and how I would have loved them. They say you won't know what you're missing if you never meet them, but this painting proves that untrue. The possibility of a child leaves a gaping hole in the soul of every prospective parent, the same way people think of others who have died childless and imagine what their children might have been like.

So, after thinking that and then listening to the audio portion, I really felt profoundly sad and moved. I imagined everything I have ever seen, heard, or read about the holocaust in one thought. Images of Schindler's List and The Pianist flashed through my mind. I thought of a childless Anne Frank (and her own enduring "tree of life," which sadly, is being cut down because it is rotten). I imagined old women who would never see their grandchildren grow up and young children who would never even know where babies come from, let alone hold their own. I thought of fathers and mothers watching their own children die, babies dying in their mothers arms, and teenage girls who were just at the cusp of womanhood, marriage, and motherhood dying and the possibility for so many others slipping away. With every person, a baby or two or three or even more is gone. For many who were able to escape early, the possibility of all those children lost is deafening. For the pregnant mothers who died, the cruelest hand was dealt.

(Okay, I am feeling quite melancholy after writing this...and John Lennon's "Imagine" is floating through my head...hmmm.)

Of the painting itself, I must say that it is not boring at all. It is tedious if anything. Kiefer did an excellent job fashioning the tiny clothing and assigning numbers. He was very patient in his creation of the cosmos. He was explicit in delivering both the "what's there" and the "what's not there?" I even think that if you look at the center of the tree of life, you can see formations that have a skeletal resemblance. Kiefer has done an incredible job of using an interesting combination of mediums to create an emotional (and partly political?) work of art.

Deep breath.

Now for something lighter...the rest of the museum:

Antoine Francoise-Gerard

"The Hoop"

1785-1800

Wax

Incredible! I have never seen anything like this before! This alone was worth the trip! Such a small piece in such a big museum. It is just stunning.

Unknown Artist

"The Lamentation"

1496

Wood

Another masterpiece. I can't imagine how long this took to carve, but it's exquisite (and huge!).

The Magdalene Master

"Virgin and Child Enthroned with Saints Peter and Leonard"

1280

Tempera and Gold on Panel

The audio for this one was very interesting as well. This was my alternate (one of two alternates...). You should hear this audio, but it explains that it is worn away because of people touching it for years because of the symbolisms it depicts. For instance, if you look closely, the middle left panel, people have scratched out the devil's eyes. In the center, the whole bottom is missing because of people kissing the Saints' feet!

Haarlem School

"Virgin and Child with Saint Anne"

1495-1500

Oil on panel

(I saw this one and thought...okay, some of my art could DEFINITELY be in a museum!!)

Remember Alberto Giacometti from the Wadsworth Atheneum? Yale has one of his bronze figures as well. This one is titled "Femme debout" (Standing Woman) and is from 1956.

No museum would be complete without a few colorful Andy Warhols:

Robert Rauschenberg

"Interior 2"

1958

Oil, pencil, paper, fabric, printed reproduction, and metal on canvas

This was my second alternate. I originally took 9 photos that show more detail, but these two are my favorites. I love this. I like it and would absolutely hang this in my home! I like it because of the variety of medims Rauschenberg used. The paper on the top left actually has what appears to be math problems on it! The squares look like they might be tin or copper ceiling. The extreme top right has a metal plate with the number "56" stamped in it and below it are green and yellow paint squiggles that dried mid-drip. The color scheme and textures appealed to me and the whole piece is just very interesting.

Auguste Rodin

"The Thinker"

1906

Bronze

If you asked me where this statue was, I would probably guess Paris. I also thought it was much older - maybe the mid 1400s? What do I know?!! It's in New Haven - wow!

Edward Hopper

"Rooms by the Sea"

1951

Oil on canvas

"Sunlight in a Cafeteria"

1958

Oil on canvas

Okay, Edward Hopper is my all-time favorite. I have a signed, framed lithograph of "Rooms by the Sea" hanging over my bed. I actually won it in a national display contest in 1991 or 1992 when Bruce Hornsby's "Harbor Lights" cd (which has the painting on the cover) came out. I used the painting as my inspiration for the display and won first in the country and the above-mentioned lithograph! I love it - it's one of my most prized possessions! Furthermore, I also have a book of poetry by a variety of writers that features the painting on the cover.

Albert Bierstadt

"Yosemite Valley, Glacier Point Trail"

1873

Oil on canvas

Remember him from my trip to The Met? I knew at first glance, before reading the plaque that it was Bierstadt (well, I couldn't exactly remember his name, but I remembered his painting at the Met and knew it was the same artist!). It's nice to recognize an artist's work by the work alone!

These were pretty neat. The first two are "friendship books/memory albums." I have to transcribe the plaque!:

In an era before photography, friendship tokens, books, and albums served as repositories for memories and were treated as previous family treasures. They were especially popular among women, who often made them to commemorate friendships they forged in school and in the years before marriage. Friends and relatives signed pages in each others' albums, often adding drawings, poetry, and hairwork. Because hair does not disintigrate, it was a popular choice in albums designed to serve as everlasting reminders of friends and family."

A child's high-chair and table:

Well, that's about it. I hope you have enjoyed my final paper! I will be back soon with one more entry of photos and brief comments of my last museum trip for the class - please join me!

Beth