In the top photo, I really love the Glenn Harrington
painting on the right. It's called "Sunday Supper."
He did the one on top too (but it looks like it's been sold).
As for the street art, I hope it speaks for itself,
because I have no info. So which do you prefer?
I love the brilliant sunlight on the wall in "Sunday Supper." It makes me gasp at being in the moment. As did a William-Adolphe Bouguereau painting we were shown in passing during a Modern Art course nearly four decades ago. At the time I was also taking a class on Greek theater and found Bouguereau's subject matter and skilled execution of an impact. He was a near contemporary of the Impressionists and I suppose they were using Bouguereau in the class as an example of what the Impressionists were revolting against. I believe I saw in an exhibition in Tokyo a simple head portrait done by him that was equally riveting. So, I go along with your taste here.
ReplyDeleteI'm a sucker for soft gradations so the one junk painting in the bottom photo almost appeals to me. It's hard to distinguish the commodity "art" in the scene you photographed from found objects and street art such as the orange "FREE PULL DEE KER L THE L MAGAZINE PUT IT IN YOUR POCKET" sculpture, and the white, background graffito. How far from spirit are they from R. Mutt's "Fountain," done 92 years ago?
Need anyone mention Basquiat?
So who's the guy wearing glasses and the white (?) watch cap we can see in the reflection?
ReplyDeleteTG -- thanks for the Bouguereau link. Can't say his Birth of Venus is something I could stare at for hours (as I could Botticelli's), but his self-portrait drew me right in. It also occurred to me that the street art would have to compete with the L Magazine stand. Don't know if it occurred to the artist, but he no doubt just wanted a spot near the corner of Prince St.(where all the wannabes and art-seeking tourists promenade).
ReplyDeleteThe guy in the watch cap is Steve, my ex, who lives in this neck o' the woods.
A note about the model for Botticelli's Birth of Venus, Simonetta Vespucci.
ReplyDeletePerhaps you know this already.
Sorry to be tardy ...
ReplyDeleteTG, you never cease to amaze me with the depth and breadth of your interests.
'Sunday Supper' is warm and inviting and I also love the 'sold' one. She should be in her bedroom but somehow she's wandering through a forest ... there's a little magic at work. Or self-medication.
It's nice that you're still friends with your ex, Alexa.
Sold one? Ah, yes, the red dot; something an artist or art buyer would ever be aware of.
ReplyDeleteI think you are on to something Shell. She does look terribly distracted, like, "I can't remember, do I meet the gardener (or is it the gamesman?) for a bit of slap and tickle in the musty guest room in the unused wing of Lord Chatterly's Wragby Hall, or do I come out here to meet him now that I have kept him so busy that the garden is now a veritable jungle of overgrowth and hiding places?
"Why can't I find my precious bottle of paregoric? Did I stash it in the hollow at the base of this tree? Could the dope-fiend squirrels—that I have been hand feeding to tame them—have run off with it? Where would they have taken it? Taken what? Oh, look! The toe of my missing fuzzy slipper is peeking out from within those entwining vines. Or, rather, it looks like a mole winking at me with one of his blind eyes. 'Greetings and salutations, little fellow. Are you cold? Would you like to share the un-warmth of Lord Chatterly's dark-red lap blanket with me?'"
ROF, TG, almost drowning in tears of laughter. Where do you get this??? Did YOU pinch her bottle of paregoric? I'll have to get me some ...
ReplyDeleteSomeone once asked me where I got my imagination (a Ms Flynne, actually). After hemming and hawing, casually tracing with the toe of my shoe unseen hieroglyphs on the ground, and turning several as-yet-unpatented shades of scarlet embarrassment, I finally owned up to the fact that I don't really have an imagination. I just made the whole thing up.
ReplyDelete