Category Archives: Bob Hicks

In tough times, SAM’s calculated gamble

By Bob Hicks

The "Art Ladder," the main staircase of the original Robert Venturi portion of the Seattle Art Museum. The visible statues are Chinese funerary statues: two rams and a civilian guardian. May 5, 2007. Photo by Joe Mabel/Wikimedia Commons

The Wall Street cowboys keep whoopin’ it up with other people’s money, the Dow dips and rises like a desperate trout on a line, the economists crunch numbers and announce happily that the recession’s over.

And in the real world, people brace for the worst. Jobs disappear. People take pay cuts and thank their lucky stars they didn’t get pink-slipped. Workers go on unpaid furloughs but keep the same old workloads. Basic benefits get deep-sixed. People simply drop out of the job market.

The state of Oregon trembles at the prospect of a half-billion-dollar shortage — a budget hole that will mean extraordinary cuts that are bound to include deep whacks in state cultural spending. This year’s crisis could make last year’s $1.8 million raid on the Oregon Cultural Trust seem like a mild practical joke. We ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Doors will shut.

Up north, they’re starting to swing already. In a bold and risky move, the Seattle Art Museum has announced that it will shut down most of its operations for two weeks early next year in a bid to cut costs enough to balance the budget. Janet I. Tu has the story in the Seattle Times. The cuts will also include a seven percent reduction in staffing and hefty salary cuts for top administrators.

“We are taking steps to remedy a tough situation,” said museum director Derrick Cartwright, who plans to take at least a fifteen percent salary cut. “I hope it will not impact the public.”

It will, of course. People will show up during those two weeks and the doors will be locked. Some people will be confused or disturbed or angry. Others will shrug their shoulders and possibly never show up again.

SAM and other major regional museums hold special roles in their communities. Even more than a symphony or opera or ballet or theater company, all of which routinely take breaks between performances, an art museum is looked on as a bulwark of reliability and stability. It’s expected to be open, except on Mondays. Only shutting down or curtailing a public library or a public school system — realities that more and more communities face — has a greater potential impact on a city’s sense of its cultural self.

On the other hand: When times are lean, what can you do but take extraordinary steps? SAM’s move is a calculated gamble. It’s more than budget-balancing, it’s shock therapy. Will potential donors see the move as tough, hard-headed pragmatism, or will they see an organization in trouble and tiptoe away? Obviously SAM is counting on the former: People will see an organization willing to make tough but necessary decisions and will want to put their money on the group that willingly faces reality. SAM could end up a “winner” in the increasingly difficult nonprofit funding race — but at what cost?

What do you think? Is this a smart move? How will it turn out? What can other cultural organizations learn from it, and is Seattle’s situation a harbinger of things to come in Portland? Let’s get the ideas rolling. Comments, please.

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PHOTO: The “Art Ladder”, the main staircase of the original Robert Venturi portion of the Seattle Art Museum. The visible statues are Chinese funerary statues: two rams and a civilian guardian. May 5, 2007. Photo by Joe Mabel/Wikimedia Commons.

Warhol and Van Sant: peas in a pod?

By Bob Hicks

Larry Fong, curator of American and regional art at the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art in Eugene, has assembled a provocative and aesthetically stimulating exhibition that brings together Pop icon Andy Warhol and Portland movie director Gus Van Sant through the unlikely lens of the Polaroid camera, a populist aim-and-shoot wonder that both used prolifically.

Gus Van Sant, "boys," 2010 digital pigment print, edition of 5 16.5" x 11.5". PDX Contemporary ArtI review the exhibit, One Step Big Shot, in this morning’s Oregonian. The show is smartly conceived and well-executed, and it looks good in the gallery, coming up with some creative design responses to the museum’s problematically long and narrow main display space.

Gus Van Sant, "boy and girl mystery," 2010 digital pigment print, edition of 5, 46" x 37". PDX Contemporary ArtOne draw: A big-screen version of Warhol’s infamous 1964 film Blow Job, which I hadn’t seen in many years.

Caught somewhere between blatant sexuality and demure tease (it’s a landmark in the gay underground movement that exploded into the mainstream after the Stonewall Riots of 1969) the six-minute film plays breathlessly with the ideas of Adonis and Narcissus. Even now it’s a powerful cultural transgression. It was an absolute mind-blower in 1964. One Step Big Shot continues through Sept. 5, and it’s worth the trip to Eugene.

Meanwhile, you have only a week left to catch Cut-ups, a smaller but intriguing related show at Portland’s PDX Contemporary Art. In it, Van Sant explores photographic collage, creating odd and sometimes discombobulating fusions of gender and personality. The two pieces shown here are from Cut-ups. We are all, apparently, one another. Worth catching, and up through Saturday, May 29.

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ILLUSTRATIONS, from top:

— Gus Van Sant, “boys,” 2010 digital pigment print, edition of 5, 16.5″ x 11.5″. PDX Contemporary Art

— Gus Van Sant, “boy and girl mystery,” 2010 digital pigment print, edition of 5, 46″ x 37″. PDX Contemporary Art

Political pork and pugilistic pigs

By Bob Hicks

It’s the morning after the election, and Mr. Scatter has done his level best to tend to his civic duties by turning in his ballot (and Mrs. Scatter’s, since she’s off to London to visit the queen). As usual, he voted for a few losers (or as he prefers to put it, solid candidates who did not persuade the electorate of their worth) and even a few who emerged triumphant.

Baba Yaga riding a pig and fighting the infernal Crocodile. Russian lubok. Early 1700s/Wikimedia CommonsTrends and counter-trends popped up. Former NBA center Chris Dudley beat Alvin Alley and John Lim in the GOP race for the governorship nomination, and former governor John Kitzhaber waxed former secretary of state Bill Bradbury for the Demo nod. The lesson: being tall is a game-winner for Republicans, but not Democrats. Trend confirmed: Earl Blumenauer and Ron Wyden would have to be caught canoodling with drunken donkeys on reality TV to lose an election in Oregon.

Conjecture: Could be that Mayor Sam Adamsgraceless smackdown of commissioner Dan Saltzman the week before the election actually helped Saltzman get reelected without facing a runoff: How many people voted for Saltzman out of sympathy for the way he was treated or as a way to take a jab at Adams? Then again, with eight other candidates splitting the anti-incumbent vote, Saltzman probably would have won no matter what. Either way, keep an eye on those city council meetings. Looks like the gloves are off, and things could get a little testy.

But enough about politics. Speaking of fisticuffs (and speaking of canoodling with drunken donkeys), the real headline-grabber in this morning’s Oregonian was Leslie Cole‘s front-page report Iowa Pork Sets Off Ham-fisted Brawl, about a knock-down drag-out fight between local chef Eric Bechard (Thistle in McMinnville; ex-Alberta Street Oyster Bar in Portland) and Brady Lowe, an Atlanta-based foodie who tours the country arranging friendly food and wine smackdowns among the locals. Seems Lowe offended locovore Bechard by importing an Iowa pig for the cook-off. And the brawl took place in front of the Magic Garden, an Old Town strip club. That’s the sort of energy Oregon politics needs: passion worthy of a Wilbur Mills or a Huey Long! More on the fracas from Food Dude and Willamette Week.

Continue reading Political pork and pugilistic pigs

It’s mourning. Do you know where your weeping medieval alabasters are?

By Bob Hicks

Like “a troop of fairy-tale dwarfs turned to stone by an evil sorcerer” — or so Ken Johnson describes them in his review this morning in the New York Times — they march, mourning the death of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy (1371-1419). These 16-inch-tall alabaster carvings, which these days do most of their weeping at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon in France, have traversed time and the Atlantic for a tour of seven American museums. Their first stop is Medieval Hall at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where they’ve been since March and will stay through May 23.

mourner_75Johnson’s report caught my eye first for the gorgeous photo that the Times ran and then for the story’s mention that the tour was organized under the wing of FRAME (the French Regional and American Museum Exchange), the innovative organization of which the Portland Art Museum has been a leading and vigorous member. The almost forty alabaster carvings in The Mourners: Medieval Tomb Sculptures From the Court of Burgundy will move on to FRAME member museums in St. Louis, Dallas, Minneapolis, Los Angeles (the Los Angeles County Museum of Art), San Francisco and Richmond — but not to Portland.

Why not?

Continue reading It’s mourning. Do you know where your weeping medieval alabasters are?

Where there’s a wit, there’s a way

By Bob Hicks

Mr. Scatter has been thinking about wit lately, partly because he’s been rereading Jane Austen‘s novel Emma and partly because, as regular Scatterers know, he attended the opera last Friday evening to see and hear Rossini‘s splendidly whimsical opera buffa The Barber of Seville.

Portrait of Jane Austen, Evert A. Duyckinick. Wikimedia CommonsBoth works, as the globe-trotting Mrs. Scatter has pointed out, made their debuts in 1816, which was technically part of the 19th century. But both feel more like products of the 18th century (as the Edwardian years seem an extension of the 19th century, which could be said to have ended in 1914).

Certainly Rossini’s opera, with its libretto by Cesare Sterbini adapted from a 1775 comedy by Pierre Beaumarchais, is fully in the spirit of the Age of Reason, embellished by a happy nod back to the 17th century theatrical glories of English Restoration comedy and the French satires of Moliere. And Austen’s class comedies seem slung somewhere between classic Enlightenment intellectual balance (Haydn, Swift, Mozart, Gibbon, Pope) and the surge of Romanticism that would engulf the 19th century (Beethoven, Byron, Mary Shelley, Harriet Beecher Stowe, on down to Wagner).

emmaAusten’s comedies may be the most precise and practical romances ever written. Obsessed with the often foolishly claustrophobic concerns of a narrow slice of self-satisfied society, they’re also worldly. Within the confines of that small society she discovers a measured universe of human possibility, from the perfidious to the noble. And she does it with one of the slyest, keenest raised eyebrows in all of literature.

Entering Austen’s world takes a certain amount of patience (it spins at the speed of a barouche carriage, not a supersonic transport; you must make peace with its rhythm) and some very smart people simply never make the transition. “Why do you like Miss Austen so very much?” Charlotte Bronte queried the philosopher and critic (and George Eliot’s live-in lover) G.H. Lewes in a letter from 1848. “I am puzzled on that point … I should hardly like to live with her ladies and gentlemen, in their elegant but confined houses … Miss Austen is only shrewd and observant.”

Continue reading Where there’s a wit, there’s a way

Friday night live: Mr. Scatter gets a shave

By Bob Hicks

Mr. Scatter is all lathered up in the lobby of Keller Auditorium, and Mrs. Scatter is at his side, underneath one of those big-bubble hairdrying doohickies. Each of us is posting live on opening night of Portland Opera’s “The Barber of Seville.” We’ll be updating our respective posts as time allows, so if you read them early, check back: There’ll be more.

"The Barber of Seville." Photo: Cory Weaver/Portland Opera

LIVE FROM ART SCATTER WORLD HEADQUARTERS, 5 P.M. FRIDAY, 2.5 HOURS BEFORE CURTAIN, MAY 7, 2010 —

Famous barbers in history:

Sal “The Barber” Maglie, star pitcher for the Giants, Indians and Dodgers in the 1940s and ’50s, so nicknamed for his eagerness to brush back hitters with high inside fastballs in the vicinity of the jaw and neck. In baseball parlance, he gave ’em a close shave with a little chin music.

Benjamin Barker, a skilled bladesman from Fleet Street in London, who, after being frightfully wronged by a corrupt judge, took to a life of crime as the infamous “demon barber” Sweeney Todd, casually slitting his customers’ throats so his accomplice, Mrs. Lovett, could grind ’em up and pop ’em into meat pies.

Samuel Barber, American composer of works including Knoxville: Summer of 1915. In photographs he appears graciously clean-shaven.

— Figaro, the clever schemer of Seville, whose comic adventures among the rich and dissolute are celebrated in two of our greatest operas, Rossini’s 1816 The Barber of Seville and Mozart’s 1786 The Marriage of Figaro. A little confusingly, Marriage is a sequel to Barber, even though it premiered 30 years earlier. The mixup straightens out once you realize that both operas were based on even earlier plays by Pierre Beaumarchais.

It’s The Barber of Seville that brings us to the lobby of the Keller Auditorium tonight, where Portland Opera has invited us to blog on our impressions of the opening night performance of its new production.

Who are we?

— Mrs. Scatter, aka Laura Grimes, co-conspirator of this very blog, who is entering her own version of the evening’s events in another post right here at Art Scatter. I’ll be fascinated to read it once I’ve finished my own. Can this marriage be shaved?

— Brandi Parisi, morning host at All Classical Radio 89.9FM, and no doubt intimately familiar with the territory. She’ll be posting on All Classical’s Facebook page.

— Mike Russell, writer, cartoonist and proprietor of the brilliant CulturePulp, who’ll be creating a cartoon report on his evening at the opera.

— Mr. Scatter, aka me, Bob Hicks.

TO BE CONTINUED …

Continue reading Friday night live: Mr. Scatter gets a shave

Caveman sex: a little Neanderthal on the side?

By Bob Hicks

Artist's rendering of a Neanderthal clan, about 60,000 years ago. National Aeronautics and Space Administration

The family tree just keeps getting bigger and bigger. Or the roots get more and more tangled.

This morning’s most intriguing news was the revelation that, yes indeed, Neanderthals seem to be among our ancestors. At least, a team of biologists doing DNA analysis of Neanderthal bones has determined tentatively that between 1 and 4 percent of non-African contemporary humans’ genome derives from that brawny, slope-headed side of the family. Once upon a time most scientists pretty much figured there’d been intermingling. Then they decided there hadn’t been. Now, it seems, caveman sex was pretty liberal, after all.

Several versions of this story are floating around. We like Nicholas Wade’s report in the New York Times, because it’s complete for a general audience and comes with the necessary cautions that more research needs to be done and not all scientists agree that the evidence leads to the conclusion. Even in matters sexual, peer review is important.

Here at Art Scatter World Headquarters we have a longstanding interest in the prehistoric links between culture and biology. We’ve talked about them in relationship to natural selection in the Pleistocene era and celebrated the discovery of Ardi, our 4.4 million-year-old beauty of a cousin. Something’s been making the world go ’round for a long, long time.

We also note with gleeful irony that today’s announcement comes as bad news for the rear-guard intellects of the Aryan Nations: Because this interbreeding hanky panky took place in the Middle East, after humans had migrated there from Africa but before the wanderers had split off into their European and Asian arms, the shared genetic material isn’t found south of the Mediterranean. In other words: If there’s such a thing as a “pure” race, it’s in Africa. Ha!

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Illustration: National Aeronautics and Space Administration artist’s rendition of a family of Neanderthals about 60,000 years ago. The extinct animals of the Pleistocene epoch pictured are the Woolly Mammoth, the Bush Antlered Deer, and the Sabre Toothed Cat. Pleistocene animals in this image that still exist are the Eurasian Horse, the Oryx, the Banded Lemming and the Musk Ox. Some of the plant life of the Pleistocene epoch consisted of grasses (which did not exist until this time), ferns, trees, sedges and shrubs.

Snark escapes; Scatters chase barber

By Bob Hicks

Henry Holiday, Plate 9 from "The Hunting of the Snark"; "Fit the Seventh: The Banker's Fate." Wikimedia Commons

The Snark eluded Mr. Scatter. No matter. It was a sporting chase, and no doubt will be continued at the rising of another moon. Some of you may recall our earlier mention of Mr. Scatter’s recent benighted journey into the hinterlands on this odd quest.

Fortunately he has returned to the safe haven of Puddletown just in time to prepare for his next adventure: On Friday he and Mrs. Scatter will be blogging live from Keller Auditorium on opening night of Portland Opera‘s The Barber of Seville. Think of this dynamic duo as the Ferrante & Teicher of the journalistic keyboards, or the Nick and Nora Charles of musical sleuthing.

Daniel Belcher as Figaro and Jennifer Rivera as Rosina. Photo: Portland Opera/Cory WeaverThis four-hand feat, by the way, will come just before Mrs. Scatter’s departure on her own quest, this one to far London town on the trail of Tates ancient and modern, the Victoria and Albert, perhaps a groundling ticket to the Globe, and persistent rumors of dining opportunities beyond steak and kidney pie. It’s a reward well-earned over the past ninemonth; wish her godspeed. She’ll be in the convivial company of her brother the Philosopher King, master baker of bivalves.

But first things first. The Barber of Seville is Gioachino Rossini‘s 1816 comic masterpiece, based on an earlier comedy by Beaumarchais, who in turn seems to have been influenced by the satiric wit of Moliere. You know it, if for no other reason, from that stupendous Looney Tunes encounter between Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. (You know another big Rossini operatic hit, William Tell, from the theme to The Lone Ranger.)

What happens, besides all that wonderful music? Here’s how Portland Opera describes the setup: “Let’s see if we can get this straight. The lovely, young Rosina is the ward of Dr. Bartolo, a comic old geezer who wants to marry her, but she’d rather marry Count Almaviva, who really wants to marry her too, but he can’t even see her because Bartolo’s always there, so what’s a guy to do?”

Bring in the barber, of course. Mr. Scatter notes with some reluctance that certain persons consider him to have robbed the marital cradle in his successful wooing of the young Mrs. Scatter. Mr. Scatter does not wish to be identified with Dr. Bartolo. Please do not jump to unwarranted conclusions.

Mr. and Mrs. Scatter will be joined Friday night by at least one other blogger, the immensely talented and amiable Mike Russell, lord and master of CulturePulp. He not only writes well, he draws well, and he’ll be — get this — cartoon blogging on the Barber. We could be outdone, if not undone.

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Illustrations, from top:

— Henry Holiday’s original illustration for Lewis Carroll’s “The Hunting of the Snark,” originally 1876, this edition 1931. This is from the nonsense poem’s “Fit the Seventh: The Banker’s Fate,” in which The Banker is attacked by a Bandersnatch, and goes insane. According to unverified reports, the Bandersnatch has been tentatively identified as one Ben Bernanke.

— This is not a portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Scatter, who remain curiously camera-shy. It is a picture of Daniel Belcher as Figaro and Jennifer Rivera as Rosina in “The Barber of Seville.” Photo: Portland Opera/Cory Weaver

Singlehandedly: the art of storytelling

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“We did not believe in God,” Lawrence Howard recollects. “We believed in chicken soup and matzoh balls.”

As Mrs. Scatter has recently intimated, Mr. Scatter has embarked on a quest deep into the wilds of the exotic North American continent, hunting the elusive Snark. Today the Snark sleeps, and it is only sporting for Mr. Scatter to pause, too. Fortunately he’s discovered a forgotten hilltop with remarkably modern reception, so he’s decided to recount his recent adventure back in civilization, last Friday night at Hipbone Studio, at the opening of Portland Story Theater‘s Singlehandedly festival of solo shows.

Sharon Knorr meets her perfect partner. Photo: Lynne DuddyHoward is one of the founders of the story theater, and so it was fitting that his hour-long piece, The Adventures of Huckleberry Horowitz, kicked the festival off. Most everyone knows the mystical power of chicken soup, and most understand the pull of ritual and tradition in that thing we loosely call religion, so Howard’s audience, maybe 65 or 70 strong, rippled into laughter: the easy, familiar kind, the kind that says, “Yeah, we know what you mean.”

What transpired was a memory-tale,
a tale of growing up Jewish, sort of, but not in a particularly devoted sense. His father changed the family name from Horowitz to Howard because in the 1940s and 50s he couldn’t even get a job interview with a Jewish name, and the family celebrated the holidays with a Christmas tree, although not in a window where it could be seen. Still, being Jewish was somehow important, not only in the way Howard viewed the world, but also in the way the world viewed him. Which was not always in the kindest or most pleasant way.

This bothered him: “I wanted people to hate me for myself, not just for my name.”

Continue reading Singlehandedly: the art of storytelling

‘Small Steps’ leaves a big footprint

Johnny Crawford as Armpit

By Laura Grimes

The pressure’s on. Mr. Scatter, otherwise known as my current first husband, has hightailed it outta town, and his responsibilities mean he probably won’t have a chance to write or find a wi-fi to post for about a week.

But you’re in luck. Before he left town, he got up early to write this review of Small Steps at Oregon Children’s Theatre.

Small Steps by Louis SacharI am more than a little envious that he got this assignment. I’m the one who’s had my eye on this show for months. I’m the one who bought the book. I’m the one who was trying to see how this could wedge into the schedule and — stink — he landed the gig, skedaddled with the Small Large Smelly Boy (also known as Felix/Martha in some circles), and I was stuck with chauffeur duty for the Large Large Smelly Boy who had a class at the same time.

At dinner after the show, the Small LSB niftily and oh-so-casually wove it into the conversation that he got to meet Louis Sachar.

Louis Sachar“Excuse me?” I said. “You got to meet him?”

I could tell he was stifling a grin and playing cool. “I got to shake his hand. It wasn’t big.”

“What? His hand wasn’t big?”

“No!” he laughed. (Got him!)

“I knew what you meant. And, yes, it was a big deal.” And, no, I wasn’t there.

But I got a report. You can read it for yourself. Mr. Scatter says it’s a good ‘un.

In looking at my schedule, I’ll be in town exactly one weekend day during the run that’s open to the public. Must sign off to buy a ticket … and then finish the book.

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ILLUSTRATIONS:

Top: Johnny Crawford as Armpit in “Small Steps.” Photo by Morphis Studios.

Bottom: Louis Sachar/Wikipedia