Resurrecting Adam: Tullio Lombardo's Masterpiece Restored

Located within the world-renowned Metropolitan Museum of Art stands an exceptional sculpture that exemplifies the brilliance of the Venetian artist, Tullio Lombardo. His interpretation of Adam, a pivotal figure from the Genesis story, is a masterpiece that testifies to the artist's unique sculpting style and uncanny understanding of the human form.

Marveling at Tullio Lombardo's Young Warrior: A Journey into Late 15th Century Venetian Art

Tucked into a portion of the east side of Central Park in New York City, nestled among a myriad of remarkable artifacts at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, stands a profound example of late 15th-century Venetian art. This remarkable piece is a marble sculpture of a young warrior by Tullio Lombardo, a master of the Italian Renaissance from Venice. The immersive experience of admiring this piece face-to-face truly transcends the ordinary museum visit.

Clip Art: Bust of the Olympian God Zeus (Jupiter)

Bust of Zeus (Jupiter), the supreme deity of the Olympian gods, is depicted in a Roman copy of a Greek original from the 4th century B. C.E. The bust was found in Orticoli and is displayed at the Pius-Clementine Museum in the Vatican.  

Bust of Zeus

Image Source: "Head of Jupiter from Otricoli. Marble. Roman copy after a Greek original from the 4th century BCE. Rome, Vatican Museums, Pius-Clementine Museum, Round Room, 3 (Roma, Musei Vaticani, Museo Pio-Clementino, Sala rotonda, 3)." I made a Zeus-themed unit plan on TpT!.

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Aesthetic Thursday: First Time Back at the Museum of Modern Art Since Covid

That time I stepped into the Museum of Modern Art since it had closed (like all cultural institutions) its doors because of the coronavirus outbreak.

MoMA normally has massive crowds. Not today.

A series of five parallelograms on view
in a special exhibition on the artist Judd.

"On my way to the Museum of Modern Art," I told my roommate. "Oh?" she said. As if I had just admitted to a felony. "Oh. It's cool. The museum is open now. Since yesterday. But they are only letting in a certain amount of people — and there are mad temperature checks at the front door." I went on and on, basically convincing myself it was OK to look at art during a global pandemic.

MoMA sits on a nice piece of real estate on 53rd Street in Manhattan between Fifth and Sixth Avenues. Over the years, the museum has expanded significantly — and now, in 2020 — going there is like going to a museum version of a theme park. You can do a lot in one space — see a movie, grab a bite to eat but not now, because of restrictions still in place. You can see a mega-ton of artwork. It's incredible. And with the limited tickets doled out daily for admittance, it feels like the museum is all yours to cherish and to keep.

Museum-goers look aglow. In the elevator, the museum's design people have created beautiful markings on the door to denote physical distance. There is cute "modern art" style signage to don a mask and to take a helping of hand sanitizer. The greeters and guest attendants are happy to be back at work — you cannot work from home if you work in guest services. 

The top floor houses a temporary exhibit on the sculpture-cum-concept artist named Judd. I liked his parallelograms — only because I like saying that word. Makes me feel smart.

After lingering with old favorites, like Rousseau's "The Dream" and Picasso's "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon," I sat outside in the sculpture garden. It was a beautiful day. People lingered too—everyone in masks or gaiters. The sun bright, but it did not feel hot. I read on my phone. Watched people — and I noticed that MoMA was devoid of tourists, of Europeans, of people from all over who flock to see its collections. It was mostly — if not at — a bunch of us locals — those cats who live here.

"I'm back from MoMA —" I told my roommate, but she listlessly nodded — she was engrossed in a television show — and had forgotten that I had done such a momentous thing. Going to a museum. Finally. But it was an interior triumph — a return to a routine that I had missed during quarantine. 

Coincidentally, I was tapped to teach a high school art history class to tenth and eleventh graders. So all my museum visits will have been worth it. Here's to me about to make that lesson plan. I will definitely tell the kids about my trip back to the museum.

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"Sin nombre" - Harold Mendez, Artist

Harold Mendez (American, born 1977)
Sin nombre 2017-18
Cotton, graphite, spray enamel, toner, and lithographic crayon on ball-grained aluminum lithographic plate mounted on dibond.

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Museum Review: Bacchus/Silenus Statuette from the Hill Collection (at the Frick)

A review of the Frick Collection's bronze statuettes collected by Janine and J. Tomilson Hill.

Attributed to Adriaen de Vries, Bacchus/Silenus, c.1579-80, bronze, 89.5 cm, private collection, USA, photograph by Maggie Nimkin.

Visited the Frick Collection on Sunday, the last day the museum exhibited bronze statuettes collected by Janine and J. Tomilson Hill.

Aesthetic Thursday: Eva Hesse at the Whitney Museum of Art

Eva Hesse, No Title, 1970

I like to go to the Whitney to experience one artist's work — and that is it. The Whitney does a good job of showcasing one work by one artist in a collection of works dedicated to several artists' work. Here is Eva Hesse's sculptural evocation  — I call it an evocation of a sculpture because I am not sure if it is a sculpture or something else. Rope suspended from the ceiling in what appears to be haphazard, but on closer inspection, the organization of rope is purposeful, designed. Hanging rope. Hanging garden. Hanging. The feeling I get standing, hanging, hanging around, flapping my arms, my body, in space — this is how this piece makes me feel.

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Image: Whitney Museum of Art

Aesthetic Thursdays: Perseus with the Head of Medusa

Perseus with the Head of the Medusa, Antonio Canova, The Metropolitan Museum of Art 

The Face of Perseus

Detail - The Head of Medusa, Metropolitan Museum

For several Fridays in a row, I've been dedicating at least an hour to the Metropolitan Museum of Art galleries. Proffering my student ID I pay as little as ten dollars to view a vast collection of priceless art. One more reason why I love New York City. I do not stay longer than an hour and I stick to one section, sometimes only one room. For my visit today I scurried over to the European Sculpture Court and sat with the sculptures. The Perseus statue with the head of the Medusa struck me because of the narrative embedded in the presentation. Perseus is stylistically graceful in this replica of Canova's Perseus which is now in the Vatican museums. The Met's profile on the piece mentions that Perseus's stance is modeled off the Apollo Belvedere. This seems right to me. It is as if Canova imagined what Apollo would have been holding if he were Perseus! The result is a stunning sculpture that projects grace in victory rather than priapic destruction. The medusa head in the Canova is hardly horrifying. The nest of vipers seems stilled and her face is cast in a dull mourning. Contrasted with Carravagio's Medusa's Head, which I mentioned on these pages, Canova has placed only a slight reference to snakes: two opposite facing serpents adorn the brow of the Medusa. Where Caravaggio favors priapism and glorious horror, Canova goes for subtle beauty and quiescent victory.

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Aesthetic Thursdays: Dionysos Holds a Theater Mask

Terra-Cotta Mixing Bowl, Dionysos and Young Pan, 410-390 B.C., Metropolitan Museum of Art

The mixing bowl depicted above was probably made in Greek occupied southern Italy in the 5th century B.C. The bowl was used to mix wine for the celebration of the feast of Dionysos, the god of the theater. Dionysos stands opposite a young Pan who pours water into a mixing bowl. 

Dionysos holds a mask. Masks were used by actors on stage to personate the roles they played. In this piece, Dionysos appears to hold a mask of himself. The mask he holds is identical to the artistic representation of his face. Dionysos wears the person of the character he personates. His mask is his person. To personate means to wear the person of someone. Person derives from the Greek word for "mask." To personate is to wear a mask. Personation is the act of personating. In an obsolete usage, a personation is also the mask itself. So we could say that Dionysos holds his own personation.

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Aesthetic Thursdays: Paul Chan at the Whitney Museum

1st Light

Paul Chan, 1st Light, 2005. Digital video projection. 14 minutes, edition of 5. Courtesy Greene Naftali Gallery, New York. Photo: Jean

At the Whitney Museum in New York City, there is currently, as of this post, a video installation made in 2005 by the American artist, Paul Chan.

Upon walking into an open room in the museum's "Singular Visions" collection on the fifth floor, devoted to single pieces of individual artist's art, there on the floor, like a cut into another reality, emanates Chan's video imagery.

Aesthetic Thursdays: In the Studio

In the Studio, Alfred Stevens. 1888. Oil on canvas. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City

 "In the Studio," is a nice example of art playing on art and reality. Notice the model sits on a couch entertaining visitors to the artist's studio. The unfinished painting of Salomé is perched on the easel to the right. The piece plays on the viewers perception of reality. Is the model posing for the work or is the representation of the unfinished work the work? Where does art end and reality begin? Works of art adorn the wall, as well. Notice the mirror. Another nod by Stevens of the mimetic nature of art. Does art imitate life or does life imitate art? The piece becomes more than a mise-en-scène of the artist's studio, but is a representation of the mimesis itself, the artist's craft, and the effect art has on the viewer viewing an artist's work, as if Stevens is inviting us to view both the process of art and the art itself as art. Brilliant.

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Art Review: Hitler McDonald

Learn about Noah Lyon, an artist in New York City who does mashups of Ronald McDonald-cum-Adolf Hitler.

Noah Lyon, an artist in New York City, has showcased at the New York Art Book Expo his poster image of an amalgam between Hitler and Ronald McDonald. Strangely, the combination seems appropriate, don't you think?

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Skip the Statue of Liberty and Head for Ellis Island

The Registry Room at Ellis Island.
Notice the Gustavino tiles.

If you even have a hunch that one of your ancestors may have ventured into the United States via Ellis Island, you should pay the twelve dollars for a ferry at the ticket kiosk at Castle Clinton in Battery Park and skip the Statue of Liberty stop and head straight for a strange parallelogram almost abut New Jersey. For more than a century, travelers from foreign lands hoped to find safe passage on Ellis Island to the United States. In 1954 immigration law mandated that prospective citizens be screened at their respective points of debarkation. The island was shut down by the federal government and remained vacant for years. A cool exhibit at the museum on the third floor are photographs by artists who visited the site during its vacancy period. In the 1980s the complex was renovated and restored by the National Park Service. 

My own grandfather, Joseph Roselli, emigrated from Italy circa 1920. After his mother died, my grandfather traveled with his brother and father, almost a century ago. His father left he and his brother in Detroit to make a living for themselves in the States. The father returned to the old country to remarry.

I felt a shock of emotion when I walked into the registry room. My grandfather waited in this grand room, designed by the Gustavino brothers, the same brothers who designed the old City Hall subway station, and thousands of tiles scattered through the New York City subway system.

Be sure to explore the individual stations where immigrants had to pass through: the medical rooms, the legal hearing halls, and the on-site dining halls. An added plus is the installation of audio samplings from immigrants who tell their individual stories.

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Photograph: The Squid and the Whale

The Squid and the Whale at the Natural History Museum

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Alfred E. Neuman and the Upstairs Lounge

This photograph (above) was taken in New Orleans at the Contemporary Arts Center Prospect.1 exhibit, "Remember the Upstairs Lounge" by artist Skylar Feins. The piece is an artifact from a gay night club, the Upstairs Lounge. The club was deliberately burned down in June of 1973. 32 people died. The exhibit memorialized the people who perished in the flames and also showcased memorabilia from the club.

Including this piece:

The exhibit is no longer showcased but if you want a good review, read the Times-Picayune op-ed piece.

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Visiting the Audubon Butterfly Garden and Insectarium in New Orleans

The Insectarium is housed in the Old Customs House
on Canal Street in New Orleans

On the first floor of the Custom House on Canal Street in New Orleans, the Audubon Institute opened the city’s first insectarium. For twelve years the insectarium has been in the works behind the scenes and finally opened its doors to the public last week. I went with my cousin Ian on Tuesday to visit the array of ants, patent leather beetles, butterflies, and katydids. 

Ants go marching . . .

I was impressed by the ant farm. Along a wall in the museum’s main hallway has been constructed a sizable ant farm that spans about ten or more feet (I’m just guessing here). I was ready to spot the queen ant in her chambers but I could not find her but one of the museum volunteers told me that she is known to appear every once in a while but is usually surrounded by her ardent followers. Apparently, she is moved from chamber to chamber every once in a while and the lucky visitor who happens to be present can witness the event, but alas we were not fortunate enough to witness the royal entourage.

On the day we visited the insectarium, the black widow spider seemed to be missing. Ian and I looked for her but we could not find her, only an empty web. Hopefully, she did not escape! We informed the entomologist standing nearby and he said they were aware of the fact and were hoping she was hiding and not escaping.

Of course, the insectarium boasts the usual array of bugs: spiders, cockroaches, beetles galore, including the impressive diving beetle. One of the nice things about the insectarium is that it provides a place to view all of these bugs without fighting the urge to stomp on one of them. Probably, if I ever see a black widow spider coming my way, I am not going to point at it red belly and say, “look at that hour-glass shape, how fascinating!” I am going to either run away or defend myself. At the insectarium, however, the need for man to defend himself in his natural environment goes away, and I can safely admire the termites and cockroaches, without wondering if I should call Terminix (who happens to be a major sponsor for the insectarium).

Kids gawk at the Insectarium

I could have done without Joan Riversfly done up like a bug and yakking about insects on a big screen TV. And I did think some of the exhibits were lackluster, especially the underground gallery which was supposed to make you feel like you were bug-sized. Either I didn’t get it or my imagination has run dry. Also, the honey bee exhibit should be at the same size as the ant farm: huge. But, hey, it was still cool watching a few bees gather their nectar and return to a very small hive.

The most impressive gallery was the butterfly gallery. The first part is the metamorphosis gallery. Here, you can see all the stages in their natural glory. It was really fascinating to look at the butterflies lined up in their various stages of metamorphosis. It still boggles my mind that a caterpillar can change from a lumpy piece of fat into a diaphanous spectacle in a matter of days. Wow. 

A museum interpreter answers questions.

I think of metamorphosis as a different form of birth, I guess. The human baby comes out of the womb wet and hairless and over time grows up and after a while looks quite different from the infant he or she once was. But with a caterpillar, it is quite a different story. They basically turn from one species to another. But, I guess it would be like if a human baby was born looking like a fetus. When it was born it would pretty much act like a caterpillar: slow-moving and eating a lot. In the human’s case that would mean a plentitude of milk and baby food as it fattened up and then curled up into a leathery cocoon for a few weeks only to emerge a post-pubescent, adult-ready human. Mothman, anyone? I am kind of glad, though that puberty is not as bad as metamorphosis would probably be. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if you entered the pupa stage like in the middle of gym class? Gross …

Can you name the butterflies?

After the metamorphosis gallery, we were gladly marshaled into the butterfly gallery where you can watch the insects flutter about in an oriental style garden complete with music and coy fish swimming in an ornate pond. It was a nice way to end the visit to the museum.

I highly recommend this museum. It is fun and freaky. I think any age group would find it interesting and enjoyable. The price is about 15 dollars for adults and I forget how much it is for children under the age of twelve, but hey, I was not looking. You can get an insectarium + zoo + aquarium package but I would not rush your insect trip. Take your time and enjoy the bugs!

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