Category Archives: General

When it comes to art, I got balls

By Laura Grimes

Mr. Scatter: What’s a dirty dog ball doing in the dishwasher?

Mrs. Scatter: Um … getting clean.

Mr. Scatter: We don’t have a dog.

Mrs. Scatter: That’s why it needs to get clean.

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Points if you can find the clean dog ball.

OK, I confess. I completely took poetic license with that dialogue. In other words, it didn’t happen. Which is exactly what makes it highly unusual.

When Mr. Scatter sees a dirty dog ball in the dishwasher he doesn’t even bother to ask anymore. He just packs more cups and saucers around it, and closes the dishwasher again. He’s used to finding tile pieces and doll legs in the silverware caddy. He knows better than to toss a perfectly good broken plate when it’s sitting on the counter.

This is what you call marriage security. I have to stay married to this man because I could never find someone else who would put up with dirty dog balls in the dishwasher.

Continue reading When it comes to art, I got balls

A circle of women: Eva Lake’s collages

By Bob Hicks

Eva Lake collage, Natalie Wood

William Tell and Robin Hood were fair hands at them. In war, they can be crucial to battle strategies. But in the art world, it was Kenneth Noland who took targets off the practice range and put ’em on the map.

“Yes, I love him. I love him. I’ve always loved him,” Portland artist Eva Lake says of Noland, whose famous target paintings made him an icon of mid-twentieth century New York art. “And I love Josef Albers. I love something inside of something inside of something.”

'Beginning', magna on canvas painting by Kenneth Noland, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, 1958/Wikimedia CommonsLake has a new exhibit of collages on view at Augen Gallery‘s DeSoto space, and while they draw obviously on Noland, they’re also very much their own thing: not so concerned with Noland’s color-field theories, much more concerned with social meanings.

“I am the one doing this,” she says. “I am the one putting the woman in the target.”

Lots of women, and most of them famous: Lake is fascinated with the allure and effects of celebrity culture, particularly strong and beautiful women who have been vilified or victimized or pushed to extremes in one way or another. Natalie Wood. Tina Turner. Marilyn Monroe. Lana Turner. Carole Lombard. Liz Taylor. Jean Shrimpton. Naomi Campbell. Ann-Margret. Lindsay Lohan. Liza Minnelli. (“It’s not that I relate to Liza; I relate to Sally Bowles.”)

Continue reading A circle of women: Eva Lake’s collages

Rain and more rain, sky and more sky

By Laura Grimes

It’s raining and the sky is pretty much a solid dull gray. Gray upon gray. Rain upon rain. End upon end. But the sky doesn’t have to be that dull.

The Pantsless Brother must have seen something different out his window. He sent me this note:

I’m looking out at the sky over the water as the evening fades and all I see is Turner.

Could he have been thinking of this painting?

"The Fighting Temeraire" by J.M.W. Turner, 1838, National Gallery London/Wikimedia Commons

The Fighting Temeraire by J.M.W. Turner, 1839
Oil on canvas
National Gallery, London

That brilliant expanse of sunset sky is saying goodbye to a famous warship that’s seen its last good fight and being carted off on its last voyage to be broken up. Broad, colorful strokes know their bigness and strikingly evoke a sense of loss. The canvas gives room to all that the sky has to say.

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I didn’t know what time it was. Then I met Mingus

By Bob Hicks

Salvador Dali, "The Persistence of Memory," 1931

We live in an age of miracles so commonplace we rarely think to marvel at them. On a quiet cloudy afternoon Mr. Scatter is standing in his kitchen, balancing on a floor made of oak chopped down and milled and planed almost a century ago, but looking new because it’s protected from scuffs and stains by an invisible, magical plastic coating that freezes entropy in its steps. He is pulling dishes out of a robotic mechanical device called an automatic dishwasher, giving them a swipe or two with a colorfully printed cloth woven somewhere in modern industrial China — China! — and putting them into cupboards that except for their compressed-particle composition aren’t much different from the ones you might see in an 18th century English country house. Scant steps away is the little breakfast nook which, well-wired, is Mr. Scatter’s electronic portal to the virtual world (and what, Mr. Scatter wonders, might a virtual world actually be?).

Charles Mingus, playing in Lower Manhattan on the U.S. bicentennial, July 4, 1976. Source: Tom Marcello Webster, New York, USA/Wikimedia CommonsA few more steps into the dining room is the small stereo system on top of which is cradled a sophisticated, powerful little green computing and storage device called an iPod. Ignoring this more recent communications miracle, he’s fed the system a small bright disc that, powered up, fills the room with sounds that the great bassist and composer Charles Mingus, with an ensemble of other innovative musicians, made in 1959 for an album called Mingus Ah Um. Mr. Scatter relaxes as the burnished rigor of a former revolution curls sharply and gently around him — a revolution that, a half-century on, has become a living, cultured comfort. Exactly the same as it was then, and worlds different.

This is our world: Time melts. Salvador Dali is our prophet, and his 1931 melted-clock painting The Persistence of Memory is our holy image.

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ILLUSTRATIONS:

— Salvador Dali, “The Persistence of Memory,” 1931. Wikimedia Commons

— Charles Mingus, playing in Lower Manhattan on the U.S. bicentennial, July 4, 1976. Source: Tom Marcello Webster, New York, USA/Wikimedia Commons

Mr. and Mrs. Scatter go shopping

By Laura Grimes

One Stop Shopping Center Where Mr. and Mrs. Scatter Buy Hosiery

(Editors note: For the safety of our readers, Art Scatter insists on maintaining proper blog decorum. Translation: We don’t swear. Mr. and Mrs. Scatter at all times maintain proper blog decorum in their everyday lives, inside and outside the computer screen, in order to set prime examples for their tender Large Smelly Boys and for the general public.

Also, Mrs. Scatter searched the interwebs high and low for a proper photo and finally picked the one above from Wikimedia Commons and then looked at the caption. It’s from a Fred Meyer store in Portland, Oregon! Hullo! Cue the dialogue, puhleez!)

Mrs.: You park over here? I never park over here.

Mr.: Where do you park?

Mrs.: I park over by the sidewalk so I can safely walk into the store without getting run over.

Mr.: This area is closest to the entrance. (Points in a general direction.)

Mrs.: You go in that door? I never go in that door. You just like to park near the coffee shop, don’t you?

Mr.: I never go to the coffee shop.

Mrs.: We’re going to get run over.

Continue reading Mr. and Mrs. Scatter go shopping

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.

Just for kids: Museums with a real draw

By Laura Grimes

One fabulous day recently at the National Gallery in London a whole class of schoolchildren wearing matching blue uniforms were sprawled on the floor drawing intently. They chatted and giggled quietly, but they were focused.

They attracted me like honey. I edged closer and watched them. Some of their drawings were just spindly stick figures. I watched them show each other their work and point to the giant painting they were studying.

A young man sat on a cushioned bench behind them and drew in a sketchbook. I thought he was with the group. A teacher chatted with him. And then she asked all the students for their attention.

She introduced the young man and asked if he would talk. I realized then he just happened to be there. He smiled to all the kids, leaned forward, turned around his sketchbook and held it up. Then a bit shyly but cheerfully he told them all about it.

Continue reading Just for kids: Museums with a real draw

Home again, home again, jiggety jog

By Laura Grimes

“How’s JoJo dealing with jetlag?” his grandmother asked with not even a hint of a chuckle in her voice.

He hasn’t missed a beat. He was out the door first thing to track down his neighborhood buddies and tell them all about his travels. See for yourself, with kudos to the Small Large Smelly Boy for doing most of the clicking and a silent thank you to the neighbor with the seductive garden nozzle who has no idea how much time JoJo spends in her garden or that we carelessly splash photos of her menagerie:

JoJo and Gnome Friend

JoJo and the Troll Bridge

This is the Small LSB’s very own gnome garden he planted by himself and has been carefully tending. It’s JoJo’s favorite place of all. He’s leaning on a magic bean that’s coming up!

JoJo and the Gnome Garden

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The tackiest souvenirs known to civilization have been a smashing success. Literally. The mini catapult that really mini catapults has repeatedly launched a Hobgoblin beer cap at little metal soldiers that are placed in a variety of formations. Then the Small LSB counts how many times it takes to knock them all down. This is what we call capital entertainment on a rainy day.

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And … we are hard at work on the model of a beheading that really beheads. The package tells us that it is easy to assemble and that “time, attention and concentration are required.” What we have learned so far:

  • So much time, attention and concentration are required that we should be done by the time the preteen LSB is ready to get married.
  • I see London, I see France. The executioner wears no pants.
  • This makes a raucous tune by which to build beheading models.

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

London, Part 10: Cheerio, it’s been lovely

By Laura Grimes

Urn

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“Cheese! Where’s the cheese?”

The Pantsless Brother and I say this nearly every time we scurry through the mazes of the Underground trying to find the right train. We feel just like rats.

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It’s time to say goodbye to all the fun we’ve been having. It doesn’t look like the ash cloud is going to favor us with another return to cancel our flights again. I miss Mr. Scatter and the Large Smelly Boys anyway, and JoJo is looking forward to seeing his buddies in the hood.

As I type, The PB and I are sharing one last beer together — the Hobgoblin. Only one beer tonight, not four. And as he put it, “None of that foreplay stuff with the lousy beers. We’re going straight for the (insert sexy word that sounds like origami, but it’s not).”

Continue reading London, Part 10: Cheerio, it’s been lovely