They Call it The JAZZ Age

For today’s Music Monday I ‘d like to ask one simple question; in what universe is the music of Jay-Z and Kanye West considered preferable to that of Duke Ellington and Cole Porter? I’m thinking it’s the bizarro world.

You are no doubt aware of The Great Gatsby movie that is currently in the theaters. In yet another film adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s literary classic, the movie stars Leonardo DiCaprio in the title role and was directed by Australian filmmaker Baz Luhrmann, in 3D no less. My mom and I had planned to see the movie on Mother’s Day but  at the last minute we decided to skip it. We had a lovely dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants instead. So I haven’t seen The Great Gatsby and am not here to offer a review. But film critic Rex Reed, in all his bitchy queen glory, ripped it to shreds.

What I do know is that the task of providing the music soundtrack for the film was placed in the hands of  music mogul Jay-Z and his cohorts. The geniuses in Hollywood thought it a wise decision to pass over the authentic, totally fabulous music of the Roaring Twenties – or “The Jazz Age” as it’s known – in favor of modern day hip hop. Now I’m not naive. I get it. The strategy was all about marketing and making the film more appealing to a younger demographic. Because, you know, the young people of America don’t have nearly enough exposure to Jay-Z and Beyonce. That was sarcastic, by the way

Carroll Dickerson’s Jazz Band, floor show, Chicago, 1924:

I probably sound like an old fuddy-duddy, griping about music authenticity and giving the impression that I’m incapable of opening my mind to hip new styles and contemporary reimaginings of classic literature. But I assure you that that is not the case. Jay-Z’s soundtrack for The Great Gatsby really and truly is absolute dreck. But that should come as no surprise from the guy whose biggest hit was titled “Big Pimpin”.

As proof of the incredible treasure trove of actual 1920s music offerings – the ones cast aside in favor of Jay-Z – I had a hell of a time choosing a video for this post. Between Louis Armstrong, Ethel Waters, George Gershwin, King Oliver, Duke Ellington, Jelly Roll Morton, Kid Ory, and Cole Porter, it was really tough. So in a hat tip to my late father, a trumpet player, I finally decided on Bix Beiderbecke’s “At the Jazz Band Ball”. Ladies, put on your best flapper dresses, and have fun! THIS, my friends, is what The Jazz Age sounds like:

Breathing Spell

Yoo hoo! Hello? Does anyone run this blog? Anyone??

Hey gang. Really sorry about the stagnancy. I’m here, I assure you. I hope you all had a wonderful week because mine kind of sucked. Stress, tension, and painful frustration stemming from personal matters, life decisions, and shattered expectations. Anyway, I don’t want to elaborate. All I can do is try to make sense of it all and get my mojo back. I miss my mojo

On the art modeling front, I’ve reached the annual break in my work schedule that comes in late May. School semesters have ended which means students can say goodbye to teachers and classmates, hang their end-of-year art shows, go through final critiques, and look forward to a well-deserved vacation. The schools will close for a bit and regroup for summer sessions which will be up and running in June. What does all this mean for us art models? It means we get a little break for ourselves. With the exception of one gig at a local art center, I have no jobs booked for two weeks. After all these years of modeling I still haven’t gotten used to the sight of so many consecutive blank spaces in my calendar. It’s weird. So much free time dancing before my eyes, what will I do with myself? Haha.

Edward Hopper, Interior (Model Reading), 1925:

One activity I’d like to do is take a drive up to Woodstock. I haven’t been up that way in quite a while and there’s a farm sanctuary there that I’ve been donating money to for many years. Might be nice to visit and say hello to the animals. And of course, Woodstock is great town in upstate New York with lovely shops and art galleries. There is much to do and see in good old Woodstock.

In the meantime, I’ll be around, being lazy some days and productive on other days. And blogging for sure. So I’ll see you all very soon.

Claudia  xo

Love My Momma

MoThERsDaY MOTHERSDAY MOtHeRsDaY MothersDay MothersDay

M 0 t h e r s D a y !!!!

I have no idea why I typed all those variations but it felt good. Just having a little fun. And screw the apostrophe!!

Mother’s Day matters a lot here on Museworthy . It matters because this blogger’s mother is a splendid, warm-hearted, generous, artistic, and joyful lady. Many of you are familiar with her, either from real life, my frequent references to her, or her own voice in comments. She’s Elaine, and she’s awesome. She also adores Mother’s Day, not because she expects to be lauded but because her children are the greatest joy in her life. My Mom is one of those women who is thoroughly happy to have “mother” define her identity. Given her two fabulous kids who can blame her?

Choosing artwork for Mother’s Day is easy as pie. In a word, Degas. Mom’s favorite. And a Degas pastel is the ultimate because of Mom’s love for the medium.

By Edgar Degas, this is Four Dancers from 1902. Love you Mom! Happy Mother’s Day.

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Soothing the Wounded Soul

Since the previous post generated thoughtful feedback about coping with news of our troubled world, the time seems right to share a video that I’ve kept bookmarked for a while. Trinity Grace Church brings us two figurative artists, Joshua LaRock and Michael Klein, who discuss their chosen roles in the art community, the responsibility they feel to celebrate beauty, grace, and humanity, and push back against some of the unfortunate effects brought on by postmodernism. Though the men espouse a Christian worldview, I think the video can be easily appreciated by anyone who is spiritual, artistic, or simply disillusioned with current societal trends and demoralizing cultural attitudes and longs for richer expressions of the soul among the arts. I was profoundly moved by the sentiments communicated so eloquently by these artists, set to scenes of them painting from a lovely life model. I think many of my readers, regardless of orientation, will take away something of value from this video. Cultural renewal is possible. We can choose to reaffirm life’s glory, mend brokenness, and resurrect positive ideals. Hope you enjoy

Routines, Old and New

You wake up in the morning, have a good stretch, make a pot of coffee and sit down to read about what’s going on in the world – on the Internet, in the newspaper, or wherever. And the more you read the bigger and darker becomes the cloud. You know the cloud I’m talking about. The cloud of human misery and strife and conflict. For me, this has become a detrimental routine, one that often comes close to ruining my whole mood for the rest of the day, that is if I allow it. But resistance is difficult, as I am nowhere near desensitized enough to resist the negative impact of so much tragedy and chaos. Some people are desensitized enough. I am not one of them. So after an hour of reading about rape and child neglect and infanticide, terrorist attacks and chemical weapons and car bombs, animal abuse and sex trafficking and rioting anarchists, corrupt politicians and the various cruelties carried out by asshole teenagers, and the current, seemingly unstoppable, cultural trend toward moral degeneracy, I am emotionally and mentally drained by the time I close my laptop. As much as I believe in awareness and staying informed, these days I’m regretting the routine every time. It just makes me sick. Beam me up Scotty, I’ve had enough.

Daily routines are not inherently harmful of course. On the contrary, routines can impart feelings of consistency, stability, and clearheadedness. For some people it’s a morning jog before work, for others a workout at the gym after work. For others still it’s painting or writing at the crack of dawn, or walking the dog, or even 20 minutes in the garden just picking a few weeds. A routine can also be something as simple as a morning phone call to check in on a parent or elderly loved one. Before my grandmother passed away, my Mom used to call her every single morning, a routine on my mother’s part that meant the world to grandma.

I’ve noticed that on the days when do I deviate from the first-thing-in-the-morning newsreading routine and replace it with something else – running, yoga, writing emails, making a fruit salad, tinkering around the house etc – I really do feel better, like I haven’t yet been “contaminated” by the evils and wretchedness of the world. My outlook and disposition remains truer to the person I am, who is loving and hopeful. I don’t want to bury my head in the sand, but I don’t want to defile my soul either. Well at least not first thing in the morning!

Routines, like habits, are hard to break. So while I can’t shut myself out from the news completely, I might consider moving the routine from the beginning of the day to the end of the day, when it can’t pollute my thoughts, hamper my productivity, distract me, or dampen the joy that my spirit intrinsically holds. I’m a pretty happy person generally. But the news headlines seem determined to convert us all into cynical, embittered nihilists. And that is very sad indeed.

Craig and I were discussing classical music the other night. I mentioned that one of the most uplifting pieces of music ever written, in my opinion, is the overture to Mozart’s comic opera The Marriage of Figaro. Jubilant, bubbly, and brisk, the overture sets a splendid, optimistic tone for the start of a day. Play pretend conductor and it’s even more fun! My new routine maybe? A million times better than the dreadful Huffington Post, that’s for sure.

Morning Light, by Childe Hassam:

Stravinsky and Sibelius

It’s coming up on 11:00 PM and I’m suffering from a bit of eye strain, but it’s still not too late for a Music Monday. So I’m going to hand it over to two great composers doing some trash-talking about music critics.

Robert Craft: What do you mean when you say that critics are incompetent?

Igor Stravinsky: I mean that they are not even equipped to judge one’s grammar. They do not see how a musical phrase is constructed, do not know how music is written; they are incompetent in the technique of the contemporary musical language. Critics misinform the public and delay comprehension. Because of critics many valuable things come too late.

— Igor Stravinsky and Robert Craft, Conversations with Igor Stravinsky (London: Faber and Faber, 1959), 107.

And more succinctly:

Pay no attention to what the critics say. A statue has never been erected in honor of a critic.

- Jean Sibelius

Any questions?

Stravinsky placing flowers at Sibelius’ grave in Finland, 1961:

Ladies at Auction

Warhol, Picasso, Van Gogh, Freud. It’s usually the same names shuffled around in rank each year, give or take a few tens of millions of dollars. They are traditionally the most in-demand powerhouses at art auctions, drawing the big bucks from collectors around the world. The artists are all great to be sure. They’re also all men. But the times may be a’changin’. An art market surge of women artists might be upon us prompted by, of all people, Berthe Morisot, an artist whose works can be described as unequivocally “feminine”. Centered on subjects of bourgeois ladies, domestic life, and Impressionistic outdoor scenes, Morisot’s paintings are visually pleasing, benign, almost soothing. In contrast to the candid realism of Lucien Freud, the macho prowess of Picasso, the slick commercialism of Warhol, or the intense, vivid palette of Van Gogh, Morisot was a genteel, civilized lady who sought neither to shock nor scream. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

In February, Berthe Morisot’s 1881 painting After Luncheon was purchased for $10.9 million at auction, setting a record for most expensive work sold by a female artist. A recent article in the Wall Street Journal, “Women on the Verge”, goes into some detail about the role of women artists in the auction scene and discusses the disparities that exist between women and their male counterparts in terms of sales. To her credit, Madonna has been collecting Tamara de Lempicka for many years, as has Barbra Streisand. According to the WSJ article, Helen Frankenthaler is starting to make a strong showing. And in the artistic photography niche Cindy Sherman does extremely well.

I am certainly no expert on the inner workings of the art market world, although I do take an interest in the articles about auction sales that pop up from time to time. Curiosity I guess. Also fascinating to learn how much a collector paid for a particular work and speculate as to why. Was it driven by pure admiration? Or shrewd investment? Maybe a bit of both. As far as the gender disparity goes, as a woman who avoids blaming sexism for everything (I don’t deny it exists of course) I confess that I’ve often wondered why you rarely see the names Frida Kahlo, Georgia O’Keefe, or even Alice Neel, appear in these big art sales stories. Hmm.

But here’s to Berthe Morisot, sending a feminine jolt into the stodgy, predictable art auction scene. Rock it, Ms. Morisot! You are a lady through and through

Here is a Morisot painting I happen to like very much. Young Woman Picking Oranges, 1889: