Year of Japan: UMFA edition.

This fall, I'm planning a trip to Japan.  I've already booked my plane tickets for September.  To prepare, I plan to familiarize myself with Japanese culture.  I've got several Japanese themed novels waiting to be read.  And I've bought my Japanese immersion software.  So imagine how excited I was to discover a small exhibit currently on view at the Utah Museum of Fine Arts (UMFA) with work by a Japanese artist. 

The show is called Decades and features the art of Yayoi Kusama.  I'd never heard of Kusama.  And considering her background, I feel that someone who spends as much time in museums as I do should be familiar with her work.  But maybe I'm just another white male who refuses to acknowledge the contributions of women to contemporary art; I hope not.

Here's what I learned. Yayoi is one of Japan's most important contemporary artists who's been working since the 1950s.  During the '50s she lived in New York City where she was friends with the likes of Donald Judd and Joseph Cornell.  In my defense, when she returned to Japan in the 1970s, Kusama was largely forgotten in the U.S., but since the 1990s she's received significant renewed attention.

All that background information is boring if you don't see her artwork.  Her art is a trippy, dazzling expression fueled by painstaking execution, with patterns that can make your eyes hurt, but in a good way.  I can't tell if this is Abstract Expressionism, Pop Art, or some strange version of Op Art.  But however you categorize it, it's fun to see. 

The first painting I liked is Dots (2000, Acrylic on canvas), whose card notes that Kusama has struggled with mental illness since childhood.  And get this: She currently lives voluntarily in an institution for the mentally ill.  She still produces plenty of work at her studio where she employs several assistants.  Here is Dots:

Here's a detail from Kusama's mind-bending, large work entitled The Night (1985, Acrylic on canvas; triptych).  This just might cause hallucinations in those of us who aren't troubled by mental illness.

In the '60s, Kusama took pattern to a new medium.  She began to produce sculpture which consisted of household objects covered with bunches of small, stuffed fabric phallic forms.  The card for this work suggests that while these sculptures are playful, they also carry undertones of anger.  Maybe she's pissed that white, male art fans like me don't know enough about women, foreign artists.  I don't blame her.  Here is a detail from Compulsion Furniture (1962-63/1993, Sewn stuffed fabric, household objects, wood, paint):

And finally, here's an installation view from the exhibit featuring The Night and Compulsion Furniture.

Really? A gay man graduated from BYU. Really!

I hadn't been to the Utah Museum of Fine Art (UMFA) for a long time.  But now is a good time to visit because there's a lot of new, good stuff to see.  It's been a while since I've seen this much intriguing art at UMFA.  So my next few posts will be about exhibits currently on view.

I'll start with the Trevor Southey retrospective titled Reconciliation. This is a big show with a significant amount of work crammed into the back galleries of the first floor.  But that crowdedness works well for this show. Southey paints with a brilliant technical ability.  But that's not what makes his art great.  There's something more.  His work exudes quiet emotion set against an intellectual intensity.

Southey was born and raised in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and studied in England.  He came to the US in 1965 and received two art degrees from Brigham Young University where he later was a faculty member.  He married and raised a family in Alpine. In 1982, he came out and as a gay man redefined his life.  

Yes, my headline for this post may be a bit sensational considering the content.  But I think knowing this background helps inform Southey's art, much of which is religious and features beautifully painted male figures that sometimes have a homoerotic sensibility.  

Here are just a few of the works I found interesting.

I loved Irrigation Turn at Dusk (1977, oil on canvas) for it's American Gothic attitude.  In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if this is an homage to Grant Wood, another artist who lived much of his life as a closeted gay man. 

Some of the most beautiful works in the show are the bronzes which seem to make bodies magically float in air.  These works reminded me of Rodin bronzes with a modern twist.  This is Fatherhood (1994, bronze).

And this is Softening (1980, bronze).

What Trevor Southey does best is represent the male nude.  His canvases frequently feature multiple men painted with surprising attention to anatomy.  But they never feel like academic illustrations.  Frequently the individuals appear suspended in air set amid interesting planes and shapes.  The paintings reminded me of the works of Michelangelo. One of the more dramatic paintings in the show is this large canvas titled, Vyacheslav (1999, oild on canvas).

Reconciliation is on view through February 13.

Book one: Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

I start the 2011 reading year with a book that isn't really my usual fare.  So perhaps a bit of explanation is in order.  Last year I read Michael Cunningham's lovely, art-world novel By Nightfall.  I liked the novel enough to consider other books by Cunningham.  I decided to read his Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Hours, a story that reflects on Virginia Woolf's novel, Mrs. Dalloway.  I thought it might be smart to read Woolf's book before I moved onto The Hours, which will be book two in 2011.

I've never read anything by Virginia Woolf until now, largely shying away from her writings due to all the literary rumors I'd heard about her stream-of-consciousness style and highly-experimental constructs.  So I was pleasantly surprised at how readable Woolf is.  Don't get me wrong, this was a tough book but not to the level I expected.  

The story follows Mrs. Dalloway (Clarissa) as she plans and hosts a party.  At the beginning of the book Clarissa is a vision of happy kindness, an interesting character that's easy to love.  And in classic Woolf style, she even has a sexually ambiguous relationship in her youth, falling for a female friend.  She's very different from Septimus Warren Smith, a working-class veteran newly returned from World War I; he's depressed, annoying, and not an character I'd want to know.  But as the novel unfolds, Clarrisa becomes less and less likable as her shallowness is revealed.  All this as sympathy builds for Septimus, climaxing just as he throws himself out a window and ends it all.

Woolf writes engaging characters, that is when you can tell who she's talking about.  The frequent meandering passages involving a cavalcade of characters can be confusing, particularly since you can read for pages without ever encountering a name, only an endless collection of pronouns.

Mrs. Dalloway is a challenging read.  But it's also a reminder that it might not hurt to read the classics every now and then.  Here's to more classics in 2011.

Sundance Film Festival 2011: Art Lobster will be there.

At last year's Sundance Film Festival, I saw a total of sixteen movies, all of which were reviewed right here at the Art Lobster. With movie reviews and other related comments, the Film Festival was responsible for 20 posts. This year's festival is less than two weeks away. My locals-only quick pass is ordered. And I'm more committed than ever to recording my festival experience.

In preparation for the 2011 Festival, I'm re-skinning Art Lobster to match the Sundance branding. You may have seen the current branding which features a fantastic snowflake created from icons that represent independent film and Sundance. That image is paired with the theme line, "be there."

In fact, if you follow the Sundance Film Festival blog, they offer regular posts calling out individual icons from the snowflake and telling the stories those icons represent. For example, the shovel icon is a nod to Joel and Ethan Cohen's 1985 Sundance film, Blood Simple:

I've ripped off the identity for my own personal amusement. But don't think that I just stole the graphic as is. No, look closely and you'll notice I've created my own graphic featuring, what else, lobsters.

Now, I just have to wait for the theater lights to dim. See you at Sundance.

No butterflies were harmed in the making of these sneakers.

Remember earlier this year when I got a new pair of fancy Art sneakers designed by Jenny Holzer.  Well 2010 may just be the official year of the Art sneaker.  Because for Christmas, I got a pair of shoes that totally up-level the idea of artsy footwear.  Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the Converse(red) high tops designed by non other than the Art world's enfant terrible, Damien Hirst. 

These shoes take their lead from Hirst's paintings that feature real butterflies stuck to canvases with paint.  So there probably were a few butterflies that gave their all to help create the print featured on the shoes. (Even the lining of the shoes has butterflies.)

Big thanks to Felix for making the extra effort to track down a pair of these.  I love them.

Introducing The Jeffies

All new for 2011 is the Art Lobster rating system.  Big thanks to co-worker Steve for not only the idea, but also the name; Jeffies.  Apologies to Steve (who's a designer) for my lack of illustration skills.  But I'm certainly willing to have a capable graphic artist finesse the Jeffies.

So what does this mean for fans of Art Lobster.  From now on, movies, books, and performances will be rated on a five Jeffy scale.  It was tough to decide whether to make it a four or a five unit scale.  I don't like the idea of an odd number scale because then you can wimp out with a three, and that doesn't really indicate whether it was above or below average.  But I also like the idea of an extremely rare, five point rating.  So I opted for an ultimate of five Jeffies.  Here's how you can interpret each of the five ratings:

Five Jeffies: This means, "Holy cow, that was some unbelievable stuff."  This is reserved for only the very best of the very best.  You won't see many of these flying around.

Four Jeffies:  If you missed reading, seeing, or experiencing anything that gets four Jeffies, you missed something funny, inspirational, or just plain mind blowing.  And if you still have a chance to experience a four-Jeffy anything, you should make the effort.

Three Jeffies: Although this is the mid point in the Jeffies rating system, it should still be considered above average.  Anything that gets three Jeffis is worth your time.  It might not be unforgettable but it will be entertaining and meaningful.

Two Jeffies: This is when things start to get sketchy. Maybe skip reading, seeing, or experiencing things that get a two-Jeffy rating.






One Jeffy: Oh no. Now things have really taken a turn for the worse. Things that only get one Jeffy were a waste of my time and would likely be a waste of yours.

One final point: There will be no half-a-Jeffy ratings.  For two reasons: First, cutting my head in half disturbs me.  And second, half ratings are for wimps.  And if you happen to receive a Jeffy rating, feel free to display it proudly on your web site, storefront, or advertising.  I'm sure it will fuel significant interest in whatever it is you offer.

Book thirty-seven: The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery

I started this year with a new idea: Keep a book journal.  And rather than writing it in an old fashioned book, I decided to keep my book journal online.  It's been a great way to enjoy reading even more.  Just this morning, I finished the last book of 2010, Murial Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog. 

And what a great way to end the year.  Here's a book that introduces the reader to a pair of great characters. The first, a 50-something French concierge (Renee) working in a Paris condominium inhabited by upper-class families.  The second, a precocious 12-year-old girl (Paloma) who is the daughter of one of the upper-class families.  Both are characters who don't live up to their cultural expectations.  Both their lives are changed forever by the appearance of a wise, Japanese gentleman (Kakuro).

Let me start by saying there are a whole bunch of literary, philosophical, musical, and cultural references that went right over my head.  You really need to know your Russian literature and your Japanese Art films to get the most out of this book.  But even though I didn't have all the background info I may have needed, it didn't make the book any less enjoyable.  In fact, it may have made the characters all the more loveable.

If you're looking for a funny (I laughed out loud several times), emotional, charming, and slightly tragic story this is the perfect book.  I won't say much more than that because I'd hate to give away any of the surprises.  I will say that this book, written in first person from the perspective of the two key characters, does something that I never imagined a first person story could accomplish without being totally stupid.  That's a testament to Muriel Barbery's beautiful writing.

Now, I guess I just have to decide what will be my first book in 2011.