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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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:

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:

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:

The Landfill Harmonic is an ambitious project that will involve a film documentary, concert tour, and instrument drive among other things. To read more about this marvelous endeavor please visit the Landfill Harmonic Movie website. Great stuff there about the people involved and their biographies, photos of the instruments, fundraising goals, and updates. Landfill Harmonic can also be found on Facebook and Twitter. And thank you Karla!

Still reeling from the harrowing loss of his son Ronan just one month before his third birthday, Rick Louis came here to New York City, his hometown, to visit family and friends. Rick and my brother Chris have been friends since childhood, and Rick has of course known me, Chris’s little sister, for just about the entirety of my life. All of us, along with our friend Greg, gathered for a reunion on the upper West Side where we enjoyed good food and great conversation. We were the Queens kids together again, reminiscing and sharing our favorite stories. While Rick is experiencing the unimaginable grief of a parent losing a child, he is seeking, and hopefully finding, solace in the bonds of those who love him and stand by him through his trials. Like me, Rick is a yoga enthusiast. For dear Rick, a spontaneous burst of upward-facing-dog on my kitchen floor. Namaste, friend.

Out of the blue, an email arrived with a subject memo that read “Blast From the Past”. Usually those words introduce something either very welcome or very unwelcome. In this instance it was, happily, very welcome. Again, an old friend, this time from high school. He searched for me on the Internet, which brought him where else but right here to Museworthy! Jimmy wrote the nicest note and thoughtfully attached some great old pictures of our gang. The faces of Stephanie, Heather, Leonard, Faby, and Jimmy are only partially obscured by my gigantic 80s hair! But gosh, we look so young. Ear-to-ear smiles. Exuberant. Energetic. The faces of carefree teenagers who have their whole lives ahead of them. Well, we’re all in our mid-forties now, but to assure Jimmy that we’re not old people just yet, a little fun in my living room chair showing that I can still kick up my heels like  the troublemaking high school junior I once was

All of the photos in this post were taken by the most important of the “people I know”, my boyfriend Craig. Thanks for the pics baby

- Dr. Seuss

Lovers among Lilacs, Marc Chagall, 1930:

Rembrandt’s The Night Watch is noteworthy for its light and shadows, composition, and immense size (11 ft x 14 ft). Like many famous works of art, it has been subjected to acts of vandalism over the years; twice slashed with a knife, once sprayed with acid. The next time someone tries to harm the painting, I suspect the fabulous flash mob will storm in out of nowhere and deal with the bum.

If it weren’t for the birds perched in the trees, singing their mating calls, starting to build nests, and noshing at my backyard birdfeeder, we’d have virtually no signs of spring here in the NYC area. This is why birds are awesome. They don’t give a damn. They go about their business in spite of rain, wind,  cold, providing visual and audible signs of energetic life even when the ground remains hard and dry and tree branches are still without leaf buds. Regular Museworthy readers may have noticed that birds pop up often on this blog in one form or another. Artistically and spiritually, I find them agents of cheer, beauty, and optimism. Right now as I write this post, I can see birds jauntily flitting through the trees outside my window and two plump robins digging for worms on my neighbor’s front lawn. Rock on my little feathered friends

So to honor of the only creatures willing to carry on with springtime ebullience, here are a few birds of art created by some great masters.

Two Studies of a Bird of Paradise, by Rembrandt. Beautiful in pen and ink:

The Kingfisher by Vincent van Gogh:

Bird Returning to it’s Nest by Georges Braque:

The cutest owl drawing I’ve ever seen, this is Albrecht Durer’s The Little Owl:

The Promise, by one of my favorite surrealists Rene Magritte:

And last but certainly not least, a bird by Picasso, work “Untitled”: