Showing posts with label Cleveland Museum of Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cleveland Museum of Art. Show all posts

Saturday, December 21, 2024

Ten Good Moments in 2024


Way back in 2016, to close out a difficult year, I reflected upon ten good moments, to accentuate the positive. This year I feel no less defeated by current events, the year has provided me with great happiness, and I would again like to share a few of those (in chronological order). 

1. Jon Batiste plays the Cleveland Museum of Art.
The most Cleveland thing ever, Batiste was leading his band through the house, playing “When the Saints Go Marching In” on his melodica. The crowd was on our feet, and when he got to our row, Batiste reached past me to shake hands with Cleveland Mayor Justin Bibb, who had been seated next to my wife. It must be mentioned, earlier that evening the Mayor had complimented my wife’s boots.

2. Transitive Property. Our children are artists. Who knew? College visits are often scheduled to coincide with a recital, gig, gallery opening or performance event. Our elder child had several this year, including an interdisciplinary semi-improvised dance and music performance, as well as shows in Nelsonville, at Loganberry Books, as well as on campus at Ohio University.

3. The Total Eclipse of the Sun.
When my wife got me (us) opening day tickets to see the Guardians last Christmas, I thought — oh, no. Opening Day is usually cold and rainy, often it snows. Well, not only was the weather perfect on April 8, 2024, but the game was bumped a few hours to experience a total eclipse.

4. Queen Mary 2. For the moment, we luxuriate. Last year we took a train to the Southwest, a journey we had ruminated upon for some time. It’s like a pre-retirement age (as though we will ever retire) doing those things we would spend time talking about late into the evening but never had the time to do, until now. And so we took a transatlantic cruise. Friends made references to the Titanic, but I reminded them that that was White Star cruiser, and that the QM2 is a Cunard ship. They rescued the survivors of Titanic.

Seven days and nights, lying in, having coffee in our bathrobes and reading while sitting out on our private balcony overlooking the vast, unbroken sea. In short order we discovered those corners we did (and did not) wish to while away the hours: the library, the Chart Room cocktail bar, The Golden Lion Pub, high tea at three and even karaoke. Yes, I will karaoke when I am leagues from anyone I know.

It was a lovely time to be together alone.

5. Twenty-Fifth Anniversary. Shortly after returning from England, we held an open house to celebrate our anniversary with our nearest and dearest. And we have met a wide variety of wonderful people over the years. Remarkable, too, are those who were not present, those who have died or with whom we have parted or those who have simply vanished from our lives. Twenty-five years is a long time, our wedding was one of the last things we did in the 1900s. Folks my age can get a little freaked out when the kids refer to the 1990s as “the late 1900s” but when you think about it, that really was a different century.

6. Cleveland Guardians.
Before the name change, we might have taken in a game each summer, but since they became the Guardians, we’ve gone a little nuts about this team. Yes, we were there on opening day, and maybe a dozen more times besides. Though we couldn’t best the Yankees, the Guards went down proudly … which is more than we can say for, you know, the Yankees. We will miss you, Gimé! Godspeed!

7. Kamala Harris. Put simply, the problem is not that not enough people voted for her. The problem is that far too many people voted for him. That is a sickness which must be remedied, and it will go hard. But Vice President Harris ran a flawless, three month campaign that was full of hope and promise and joy. And the people chose Trump. That’s on the people.

8. Drennon Davis
is a comedian and voice actor who became an internet phenom during the Quarantine when he began producing clips of his housebound interactions with his talking cats. We love this guy, and went to see him at the Cat Fancier Association International Cat Show and Exposition at the I-X Center. Don’t know if you’ve ever been, it’s equal parts cat judging competitions, cat swag goes market and cat-themed entertainers, all fairing at the same time. Davis did a presentation that included a “live” video chat with Newt, Toad, Frog and Doug, and we got to say hello and have a lovely picture taken. Business!

9. Cincinnati. The boy is enrolled at the conservatory of music at the University of Cincinnati. He is majoring in jazz, he plays the drums. I so wish my father could see this. A few times a year we attend his end-of-semester gigs at Caffè Vivace. Cincinnati was entirely alien to me before this turn of events. In school we made a couple trips, to see concerts, even to a cattle call for a film. In the past two years we have become familiar with a few neighborhoods and my wife even found a second home at the Gaslight Bed and Breakfast. Hi, Maria!

10. A Christmas Carol.
Charles Dickens’ tale describing the reclamation of Ebenezer Scrooge is so universal and elegantly told that it continues to stand up to generations of satire and derision. Dealing as it does with an elderly man reflecting upon his life choices, I cannot help but personally feel it becomes more terrorist as one gets older. One youthful heartbreak led to a lifetime of emotional insecurity and cynicism? Why yes, that actually happens, but we can choose to do better.

As should be obvious, I love the season, and having the opportunity to be immersed in the trappings and tropes of the most iconic of holiday stories, eight times a week (nine as we close the run) have only intensified these feelings.

This winter will be hard, the new year is uncertain. We'll have to muddle through somehow.

Saturday, August 26, 2023

Eight Impressions of a Lunatic (play)

Self with Tracey Field
Photo: Anthony Gray
Last night, I had an artist date at the Cleveland Art Museum. It’s been on my list of things to do, all summer. Just … go to the art museum. If you are unfamiliar, you should go. It’s free. Just walk in, like always, now and forever. The only thing that’s changed is that apparently they recently added metal detectors. So it goes, ç'est la vie.

A quarter century ago, the year 1998, was heady and dizzying. Among other events, I had been cast to perform the role of French modernist painter Édouard Manet in Eight Impressions of a Lunatic by Sarah Morton. Auditions had been almost an entire year before the planned August production, presented by Red Hen, Cleveland’s Feminist Theatre, providing me ample time to conduct research into a historical character about whom I knew absolutely nothing.

I also stopped shaving and cutting my hair the day another Sarah Morton play I performed, Love In Pieces, closed that March at Cleveland Public Theatre. Five months to cultivate the bushy beard and shaggy mane of the great forerunner of those artists who would be known collectively as the Impressionists.

"Berthe Morisot"
by Édouard Manet
(c. 1869-1873)
Cleveland Museum of Art
Manet himself was not an “impressionist” (he did not like that term) he was that hipster guy who already had a reputation and who the new kids looked up to (my Millennial friends might relate) if the kids were named Renoir, Monet, Degas or Berthe Morisot. Morton’s Eight Impressions is centered on the person of Morisot (performed for Red Hen by Tracey Field) a play consisting of eight scenes from her life in which few characters, other than she, appear more than once.

The CMA has a few selections from these artists, works from the last couple decades of the nineteenth century. We have one panel from a triad of Water Lilies paintings by Claude Monet (the other two are in Kansas City and St. Louis) and the museum has kindly provided a bench upon which I have sat many times to immerse myself.

To see the lilies, floating on the surface, and to observe the surface. And beneath the surface, all the way down to the grasses growing on the floor of the pond. Seeing through the water, which is not water at all. Calming and fascinating, all at the same time.

Also on display is one of Manet’s many portraits of Morisot and it was interesting to me the extent to which he would ask her to sit for him. I wondered if he respected her as an artist in her own right, or just his attractive colleague.

In the one scene in which Manet appears in Morton’s play, she has a painting which she plans to submit for exhibition, he visits and hie appraising the work, he thoughtlessly begins to amend the work – to add his own touches to her painting. This is a thing which actually happened.

"Édouard Manet"
by Henri Fantin-Latour
(1867)
Art Institute of Chicago
It filled me with great pride to play this role, and I thought I looked fantastic. My favorite image of Manet is the portrait by Henri Fantin-Latour, which I had the opportunity to see once at the Chicago Institute of Art. I think I managed to pull off the look very well, thanks also to the costume designer.

The person of Manet resonated with me as I learned more about his life story. He wanted his work to be respected by the tastemakers and those whose opinions matter about such things, but he was following his own artistic path, refusing to conform to the classical dictates of the time. His work Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe (Luncheon on the Grass) was not accepted into the Salon (the wildly important and official art exhibition of the Académie des Beaux-Arts) and so allowed it to be shown as part of the first Salon des Refusés or “Salon of the Rejected” which was such a boss power move.

In school there was this actor who would take on the mantle of whatever role he was currently engaged in. First it was Dracula and he started wearing capes. The next year it was Sherlock and he got all tweedy. Finally, he played Percy Bysshe Shelley and things really went off the rails for him. 1998 was my Manet year (you can’t hide that beard) the year I tuned thirty, which was also the year I left Dobama’s Night Kitchen and laid down plans to direct Hamlet with an as-yet unanounced new company. My head was full of ideas and too much time in which to realize them. Which is to say, I was unemployed.

This past Friday night, on my own, I just wandered. I tried to find galleries I hadn’t explored before, I was surprised to find there are places I’ve never seen since the major redesign took place, well over ten years ago. I also learned that the museum restaurant Provenance is once more open for dinner on Wednesdays and Fridays. It hasn’t been since before the shutdown. My wife and I plan to return sometime next week.

I would like to take more artist dates in the foreseeable future, solo time in not only familiar but unusual spaces. I will make a list.

Water Lillies (Agapanthus)
Claude Monet
(c. 1915 - 1926)
Cleveland Museum of Art

Friday, January 9, 2015

The Great Blizzard of 1978

Late January 1978, the Great Blizzard. Children, sit down. Let me tell you a story.

Seventy mile-per-hour winds, heavy snow and temperatures close to zero brought the Great Lakes region to a standstill for several days.

That was my fourth grade year. I was the age my son is today, about nine and a half. The previous year was the first I came into awareness of the wider world. Prior to that I did not really know much about pop culture or politics. 1977 was Three Mile Island, the New York City Blackout, the space shuttle Enterprise and Star Wars. Groucho Marx, Bing Crosby, Elvis Presley and Charlie Chaplin died that year, and I already knew who they all were.

That was also the year I started listening to pop radio, pretty much non-stop. January, dark evening after dark evening, and for many snow days, listening to G98. The top charting hits of that month, they may make you think of many other things, but they make me think of unending snow, and bone-penetrating cold; We Will Rock You/We Are the Champions, Come Sail Away, The Name of the Game, Just the Way You Are, and the aptly-named Slip Slidin’ Away.

We all stayed in our houses during the blizzard itself, but the after-effects lasted for weeks. Fortunately, my best friends lived two short blocks away, there was indoor play, but with so many days off, much of the time was spent at home, on my own, watching TV, drawing cartoons … and driving my mother crazy.


Mother was a home maintenance expert, or what we used to call a housewife. And she had her own life, one which my houseboundness encroached upon. I have no idea what my brothers, aged 13 and 16, were up to or where they were. The middle and high schools were also closed, but they were independent enough to have conspired to get away with the assistance of friends and older friends.

Mom had art appreciation classes at CMA, and asked if I wanted to wander around the art museum while she was there. Can you imagine that? Nine year-old kid, wandering around an art museum entirely unattended. In the 1970s, that was a great premise for a YA novel. Today we’d be the lead story on FOX 8.

Gets better – I didn’t want to investigate the art museum, I was more interested in the Natural History Museum. So I wandered around that place unattended, for several hours. Taxidermy is the aroma of my childhood.

There used to be an exhibit documenting the effects of pollution, located near the entrance to the building. It was very upsetting, a replica toxic waste site, a dump with oil covered gulls and all manner of household product containers wrapped in discarded plastic bags, choking a freshwater pond. Thank goodness that exhibit isn’t there anymore to trouble my thoughts.

Other days, mom would have classes at the Lakewood Public Library, and I would haunt the microfilm desk, taking out spools and spools of the New Yorker, just to look at the cartoons. Not just any New Yorkers, mind you. I started in 1925.

Of course, it wasn't all about keeping me preoccupied when she had other things to do. We'd sometimes go to the Rocky River Rec Center, and hold hands and ice skate while they played Bob Seger's Night Moves album on the loudspeakers.

My mother turns 80 next month, and it makes me think of things like this.

Source:
Remember Blizzard of Jan 26, 1978? Weather Historians Recall Blizzard of Legend

Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Degenerate Art Exhibit

Exhibition catalogue
Opening July 19, 1937, "Entartete Kunst" or the Degenerate Art Exhibit opened in Munich. In an attempt to eradicate modernism, the Nazis seized over 5,000 pieces of art deemed threatening to the New Order. However, as in all things, Nazis were scholars of the past and established breathtaking, new forms of propaganda which have served as templates for every generation since.

Rather than simply destroy the offending works, they were put on display for the mockery of the general public, hung the wrong-way-round in some cases, improperly lit, cramped together, the walls festooned with mocking graffiti. "Insolent mockery of the Divine under Centrist rule" and "Deliberate sabotage of national defense" are two refrains which strike me as not-unfamiliar to today's vocabulary.

In this way, modern artists were denied any kind of martyrdom -- their worthlessness was firmly established in the public mind as thousand lined up to see the "degeneracy" and freely make up their own minds as to whether the work was offensive, obscene, immoral, blasphemous, or just plain bad. We curate, you decide.

"Self-Portrait as Soldier"
Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, 1915
Following the exhibition, the works were auctioned off, purchased by museums and individuals desperate to save them before they were destroyed. Though many works were lost, while living in Los Angeles in 1991 I had the opportunity to witness a touring exhibit of surviving pieces. If I had not already become driven to the brink of a nervous breakdown after four weeks in L.A. this experience put me right over the edge and I returned home to Cleveland for good soon after.

One example, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner's Self-Portrait as Soldier (1915) shows the artist, a World War I veteran, his painting hand severed. Kirchner had not actually lost an appendage during the war, rather the piece (painted during convalescence following a nervous breakdown) expresses his feelings that his war experience would rob him of his craft. The naked woman suggests he feared other war-related inadequacies.

"Self-Portrait With Hat"
Karl Schmidt-Rottluff, 1919
639 of Kirchner's works were confiscated by the Nazis. This work was retitled Soldier With Whore for the Degenerate Art Exhibit. Kirchner died by suicide in June 1938. Fortunately for us, this work survives and you can visit it at the Allen Memorial Art Museum in Oberlin.

This work by Karl Schmidt-Rottluff (left) is part of the permanent collection at the Cleveland Museum of Art, also saved from the 1937 exhibition in Munich.

We saw Cabaret last night. It was very moving. There were no drunken, existential rants before bedtime. The first act closes with a spirited, patriotic round of Tomorrow Belongs To Me. My mother, seated next to me, remarked, "The Nazis did write good music," adding swiftly, "of course, they just stole a bunch of folk songs and changed the words."

"Cabaret"
(Great Lakes Theater, 2011)

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Assorted Views

A small packet of cards, suitable for mailing. (circa 1940?)


Terminal Tower


Public Auditorium


View from Terminal Tower


Museum of Art


Coast Guard Station


Municipal Stadium


Cultural Garden, Gordon Park
(Now Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.)


Municipal Airport


Garfield Monument


Euclid Beach Park


New Main Avenue Bridge
(Built 1939)


Lorain-Carnegie Bridge

Source: Mom's house.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Go Down Death


Aaron Douglas
Go Down Death, 1934
Oil on masonite
48" x 36"

In the collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art, I took in this painting this morning. Part of the God's Trombones series, this work illustrates a funeral sermon from James Weldon Johnson's book (God's Trombones) and depicts an Angel of Death riding down to take Sister Caroline into the arms of Jesus.

Note the radiating star in the upper left. Death is sometimes depicted as a falling star. It could also be the North Star. It is also an obvious Communist symbol. Death frees the slave from bondage. The North Star representative of the Underground Railroad. So, too, would the Communist Party lead the Negro to freedom.

Source: The David C. Driskell Center

Monday, January 4, 2010

Severance

Assembling my library ... there were several volumes of Cleveland history I had picked up during the 1990s, the heyday of Cleveland history tomes, apparently. I already own the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History, the Encyclopedia of Cleveland Biography, and Fine Arts In Cleveland though I was unaware they were all created by the same people. Duh.

Flipping through Fine Arts in Cleveland: An Illustrated History (The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History, Vol 3) while the kids tumbled off to sleep is a refresher course in theater of the period, so instead I was opening my eyes to areas in which I am weaker, the art museum, the orchestra, and so on.

SEVERANCE, JOHN LONG (8 May 1863-16 Jan. 1936), industrialist. Born in Cleveland, he graduated from Oberlin College in 1885 and returned to Cleveland to work for Standard Oil. In 1899 he was instrumental in founding American Linseed Co., into which Cleveland Linseed was merged. In 1901 he organized and became president of Colonial Salt Co. His other business connections included serving as chairman of the board of Cleveland Arcade Co. and Youngstown Steel Door Co., and as director of Cleveland Trust Co. and Youngstown Sheet & Tube Co.

Philanthropically, he was president of the Cleveland Museum of Art and Musical Arts Association. Besides being a liberal benefactor to the art museum during his life, at his death he left it a collection valued at over $3 million. In 1929 he gave the city $1.5 million to build a concert hall for the Cleveland Orchestra; in 1930 increasing his donation to $2.5 million in memory of his wife, who died in 1929. Severance died childless in Cleveland and is buried in Lake View Cemetery.

- Encyclopedia of Cleveland History
He lived a block from my house, where the big-box-mall Severance Center now stands. His considerable art collection was donated to the museum, a grand fountain from the interior of his home is now a piece of exterior art near the Police Station. Fine Arts in Cleveland says he died penniless.

Looking forward to re-reading: IT CAN'T HAPPEN HERE (playscript)