Still . . .

i carry your heart with me –

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
.  … . . . . . . . . . . . . i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

— e.e. cummings

Nude from Back on a Background of the Sea, Francis Picabia, 1940:

francis-picabia-nude-from-back-on-a-background-of-the-sea_nude-dos-fond-mer

da Forlì’s Angels

If the walls of my modest home weren’t already covered with framed artwork featuring one model – yes, that would be me :-) – I would want to time travel back to the Renaissance and commission one of the great Italian fresco painters of the 15th and 16th centuries to paint my home’s interior. He could adorn these plaster walls with stories, allegories, figures and faces, depicting themes of theology, philosophy, poetry, and the human condition. I couldn’t afford to pay him, mind you, but perhaps he’d be willing to barter his services for some art modeling.

For today’s Music Monday we have some surviving fragments of a fresco painted by Melozzo da Forlì for the Church of the Twelve Holy Apostles in Rome in the late 1400s. Today they are on view at the Pinacoteca Gallery in the Vatican Art Museums. These are “music-making angels”, celestial and beautiful with their lutes, drums, violins and tambourines. The third one would look lovely in my bedroom. Anyone up for a decorative house painting gig? ;-)

DaForli-Angel2

DaForli-Angel

daforli5

DaForli-Angel3

Glass, Granite, and Urban Awakenings

New York City is, and always has been, a study in stark contrasts. The route of the IRT Lexington Avenue subway line, which travels from some of the lowest income neighborhoods in the city (the Bronx) through the highest income neighborhoods (upper east side) exemplifies such a contrast. And it seems rather fitting that the Lexington line continues south to make a stop at – where else? – Wall Street in the Financial District.

This week, the new Whitney Museum has opened with much fanfare, and I do mean MUCH fanfare. After many years in the making, the plans for a new Whitney have finally come to fruition. With a $422 million price tag, the museum’s new digs were designed by the architect Renzo Piano. The 200,000 square foot structure of steel, concrete and glass sits along the West Side Highway in downtown Manhattan in what is known around here as the “meatpacking district”. But don’t let that historical reference to New York’s long gone turn-of-the-century slaughterhouses and packing plants fool you. The meatpacking district is, today, one of the trendiest, “hottest” neighborhoods in the city, replete with high end boutiques and restaurants. The planners for the new Whitney chose their real estate wisely, as “location” is everything in this town. Flanked by the High Line and Gansevoort Street, the Whitney is the sleek spanking new jewel of New York City. With a glass-enclosed lobby and a panoramic view of the Hudson River, it is the new home of the museum’s American art collection of Hoppers, Warhols, Pollocks, and company.

NewWhitney2

Just a few miles north of the new Whitney, an art space of a different sort also held an opening, but with significantly less fanfare and without the First Lady, the New York elite, glitterati, or art magazine critics in attendance. The old Bronx Borough Courthouse, which had been abandoned, neglected, and boarded up for 35 years, has been rescued from its squalid, dilapidated state by an organization called “No Longer Empty”, which avails community engagement to “revive underutilized properties” according to their mission statement. Constructed in 1905, the four story Beaux-Arts building would have been most likely demolished had it not secured historic landmark status in 1981. But though it remained standing, the structure still fell into disrepair, its cavernous interior and stately architectural features sealed off from the public. Now, as debris is cleaned away and the light is let in, the Bronx Courthouse is experiencing a renewal as a space for art, installations, and symbol of the neighborhood’s heritage. You can read all about it on CurbedNY.

BronxCourthouse

O Henry once said that New York “will be a great place if they ever finish it”. What O Henry didn’t know, presumably, was that New York will never be “finished”. Ever. Those of us who have lived here our entire lives can attest to the fact that the city will do whatever the hell it wants, and as New Yorkers our famously held skills of adapting and improvising are only strengthened in the process. Make no mistake, this is a town of deaths and births and reincarnations, relentlessly so. This town makes decisions that will either boggle the mind or thrill the spirit. This town will break your heart and ignore your tears. Some salivate over new constructions and state-of-the-art modernization, while others bemoan losses, cling to relics and shadows of the past. New York has certainly not thrown off its history, but its dogged impulse to surge forward will never be subdued. Nor should it be.

In the spirit of this diverse, crowded, maddening metropolis of contrasts and confounding changes, I offer a warm welcome to the new Whitney, and an equally warm welcome to the “new” old Bronx Courthouse.

One Hundred Years of Genocide

“When the Turkish authorities gave the orders for these deportations, they were merely giving the death warrant to a whole race; they understood this well, and, in their conversations with me, they made no particular attempt to conceal the fact. . . I am confident that the whole history of the human race contains no such horrible episode as this. The great massacres and persecutions of the past seem almost insignificant when compared to the sufferings of the Armenian race in 1915”.
– Henry Morgenthau
U.S. Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire, 1913-1916

Before Hitler’s concentrations camps, before the Cambodian “killing fields”, before Rwanda, there was the Syrian desert. The 20th century was barely 15 years old when it jumped out of the gate to establish itself as a dystopian chapter in world history. On this date in 1915, Armenian intellectuals, clerics, journalists, doctors, and community leaders in Constantinople  received knocks on their doors. On the direct order of Ottoman Interior Minister Talat Pasha, the Armenians were taken to holding centers for detention. And later, deportation. Thus began a barbaric campaign of murder, starvation, long marches, and ethnic cleansing: the Armenian genocide which claimed the lives of 1.5 million souls.

I have, for a long time, detested the now-trite admonition about “those who don’t remember history are doomed to repeat it”. I detest it not because it isn’t true, but because it goes – decade after decade after decade -unheeded. Of course we fail to remember history. And of course we repeat it. When the world stage is divided into malevolent thugs on one side, and craven deserters on the other side, it will inevitably be repeated.

A more apt assessment can be found in Hannah Arendt’s observation about “the banality of evil”. The deranged, defensive statements issued by the Turkish government to this very day, that the Armenians were slaughtered as some sort of “by-product” of the violence of World War I, exemplifies the lengths some will go to to rationalize, excuse, and quite literally defend atrocities – the intellectual equivalent of “shit happens” as an explanation for savagery.

Armenian genocide victims, photographed by Armin T. Wegner, a German soldier and medic who was an eyewitness to Ottoman crimes:

armenian-genocide-02-jpg

During these past few weeks leading up to today’s Centennial, we’ve seen prominent world figures show us what they’re made of. Pope Francis righteously took a stand of truth and moral courage, provoking the unhinged ire of Turkish officials. I think I can speak for all Armenians when I say it was a thing of beauty. In stark contrast Barack Obama, the purported “leader” of the free world, engaged in a sad, embarrassing spectacle of capitulation to Turkey’s gag rule on the G-word, and sits in a corner like a scolded child while his extravagant campaign promises flush down the toilet in a death spiral.

Gutless American Presidents notwithstanding, Armenians have survived and flourished in their diaspora. My grandparents, great aunts and uncles made their way onto ships bound for Ellis Island in New York City, and never looked back. We are teachers, engineers, journalists, entertainers, laborers, writers, photographers, businessmen, musicians, and even artist’s models :-)

Say a prayer today for those 1.5 million who starved and suffered and died face down in the desert, the orphans who watched their mothers and fathers get slaughtered, and thrown into rivers to drown. Say a prayer that genocide will always be recognized for what it is.

65f64f07697593713083ce6c62a5bd7e

Tangerine

Well hey there gang. How’s everyone doing? I’m enjoying a couple of days off from art modeling after a busy few weeks. Gotta say, it’s quite nice to sleep late, catch up on reading, tend to my houseplants, and get started on spring cleaning. Rather than bore you with the details of propagating succulents from stem cuttings (yes, I love it!) I’ll just subject you to more Led Zeppelin, because as loyal Museworthy readers it’s mandatory that you indulge my love for the greatest rock and roll band of all time. Just kidding, it’s not mandatory. But it is recommended ;-)

With spring rolling along nicely, summer is around the bend. This groovy song by Zep has always mad me think of warm, unhurried summer evenings, with bare feet in the grass, the fragrance of night blooming jasmine in the air, and stars in the clear night sky above. From the album Led Zeppelin III, this is “Tangerine” for Music Monday. Enjoy, and I’ll catch you soon!

 

Nude Blond Woman with Tangerines by Felix Vallotton, 1913:

Vallotton-NudeWomanTangerines

Know Thyselfie

The selfie. It’s here to stay. If that statement fills you with dread, take heart. It may not be as bad as it sounds. While the proliferation of inane and inappropriate selfies causes us to fear the end of civilization as we know it, the selfie phenomenon has its uniquely engaging qualities as well. We just have to filter through the narcissism parade and duck faces to find the genuine fun and interest. It can be done!

I should confess that I’m not a big selfie taker. It’s probably because I don’t have a good phone for it (yes, I still use a Blackberry). But I did take this one recently in the art model’s changing room at FIT. If I look stressed it’s because the prior two hours involved a total shutdown of all downtown subways in Manhattan due to signal problems. That meant I was caught in the rain with no umbrella and had to walk 30 blocks, through gridlock traffic jams and blaring sirens and horns, from the upper East Side to get to my job at FIT. After drying my hair with paper towels and getting undressed, I took this selfie as I waited for the teacher to start class. What a day that was.

IMG-20150310-00820

The truth is that there’s nothing really new about the selfie. The word may have triumphantly found its way into the Oxford English Dictionary in 2013, but if we define the term to mean simply a picture one takes of one’s self, then it’s been around as long as we’ve had the tools to create such a picture. Before cameras went digital, there were selfies and plenty of them. If we want to stretch the meaning to include images of the self of all kinds – before photographic technology was even invented – then the self-portraits of artists give substantial weight to an otherwise frivolous sounding term. Isn’t an artist’s self-portrait the painter’s version of the “selfie”? So we can just go ahead and crown Rembrandt, who created dozens of self-portraits, the King of the “selfie”.

The earliest known photograph of a human being was, in fact, a selfie. Robert Cornelius, an amateur chemist in Philadelphia who ran a silver-plating business, experimented with his camera one day and took this daguerreotype in 1839. Robert doesn’t have to comb his hair, because he’s a badass ;-)

RobertCorneliusSelfie

If the selfie craze of today has earned some degree of scorn it’s probably because it feeds groan-inducing vanity and attention-seeking, two things our culture could use less of these days. The obsessive urge to document every moment of our lives is another off-putting aspect of the selfie generation. I don’t need to see celebrities, or anybody for that matter, on the toilet.

But the urge to “document” is, in itself, generally a good one. I’ve seen quite a few genuinely interesting, humorous, spontaneous and charming selfies that weren’t driven by purely “Look at me!” impulses. If a twelve year old boy meets his baseball idol during batting practice, then sure he should get that selfie with him. He’ll treasure if for the rest of his life.

She was the “Inquiring Photographer” for a Washington newspaper before she met the future President. Here, Jackie Kennedy takes a mirror selfie with Ethel and John, 1954:

kennedyselfie1954

A selfie, Stanley Kubrick style. On the set of “The Shining”, the famed director snaps a mirror selfie with his daughter, while Jack Nicholson stands in the foreground:

KubrickSelfie

Jeff Bridges, using a Widelux lens, takes a selfie with Sam Elliott on the set of the Coen brothers 1998 cult classic “The Big Lebowski”:

BridgesSelfie

I like to visualize the selfies that could have been. If you have any disdain for the selfie, picture these imaginary captures and consider how awesome they’d be on social media. It might change your mind. I’ve used contemporary jargon and Internet-era parlance. I’ve also included hashtags, because you have to use hashtags. You have to ;-)

At the Continental Congress on July 4th, 1776, after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, John Adams takes a selfie on his Android with a grinning Benjamin Franklin who, with his fingers, makes rabbit ears behind Adams’ head. Thomas Jefferson photobombs in the background. Adams posts it to Twitter with the caption “We did it!! Freedom in da house!! Grab your muskets colonists!! #yolo #KingGeorgeisapunk #tasteitbitches #pursuitofhappiness”

Michelangelo atop a scaffold near the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Disheveled, miserable, biting down on paintbrushes in his mouth, he stretches out his arm and takes a selfie on his iPhone. He posts it to Instagram with the caption “Wish I never took this commission. WORST. JOB. EVER. #paintingsucks #biteme #myasshurts”

Jo Hiffernan, artist’s model, muse, girlfriend of James Whistler, on a break while posing for Gustave Courbet’s L’Origine du Monde, takes a nude selfie with the caption “Don’t blame me. Some Ottoman diplomat requested this painting. LOL. #sorryJames #CourbetIsCrazy #imfreezing”. She posts it to Facebook where it is promptly taken down for violating Terms of Service.

An epic selfie. Astronaut Buzz Aldrin’s photo of himself from the Gemini 12 mission which he proudly shared on Twitter last summer:

BuzzAldrinSelfie

Pope Francis takes the first “Papal selfie” with a group of young visitors at the Vatican:

Pope-Francis-selfie

So whether we like it or not, we’ll have to roll with the selfies. They have, for better or worse, hit the big time and will even dominate the news cycle in some instances: Ellen at the Oscars, which received over 3 million retweets on Twitter, and even heads of state amusing themselves at a funeral.

I don’t think I’ll be taking more selfies anytime soon, but if I do I know Mona’s got my back. #TeamMuse #artselfie #LeonardoRocks :-)

mona-lisa-selfie-portrait

Fullness of Heart

“I firmly believe that the moment our hearts are emptied of selfishness and ambition and self-seeking and everything that is contrary to God’s law, the Holy Spirit will come and fill every corner of our hearts; but if we are full of pride and conceit, ambition and self-seeking, pleasure and the world, there is no room for the Spirit of God. I also believe that many a man is praying to God to fill him, when he is full already with something else. Before we pray that God would fill us, I believe we ought to pray that He would empty us. There must be an emptying before there can be a filling; and when the heart is turned upside down, and everything that is contrary to God is turned out, then the Spirit will come…”

– D.L. Moody

Christ in the Wilderness, Moretto da Brescia, Metropolitan Museum of Art:

Brescia-ChristWilderness

Easter blessings to my readers. May we all walk in love, light, and understanding, each and every day.

Claudia
xoxo