Kseniya Simonova, Ukranian sand artist

Ever seen a sand artist? Wow.

Watch this Ukrainian teenager telling—“drawing”—the story of Ukraine during WWII.

Click the image to see the video.

Pear by Lisa Shimko

This “Pear” by Lisa Shimko seemed the most subtle, symbolic, and sensual (and smallest) work in the show. Had it been at the Corrigan Gallery, it would have surpassed everything there in terms of its vivid, tactile sexuality—and in this case its femininity.

More than that, it heightened my awe of the designs of Nature and whoever or whatever is behind those designs. The more I looked at it, the more beautiful it became. One of the signs of good art. •

Adam & Eve by Julia Trops

MEN HAVE PENISES. Women have vaginas. Both have breasts and nipples. And depending on the circumstances, they can all change size and shape.

Really, that’s all there is to it. Except that all of it is also remarkable and wonderful. So why the fuss about displaying nude art, even when it gets “graphical?”

Unfortunately, when it is treated poorly—and especially when it is forbidden—nude art becomes offensive not for what it shows but for how it corrupts the natural beauty and sensuality of the human body. Treated well, it conveys an evocative poignancy as nothing else can.

Even more unfortunately, there are people who, for a variety of reasons, have an extreme or disturbed relationship to sex and sexuality. But nude art displayed in galleries is not, to my knowledge, breeding or worsening those exceptions to the rule. And even though I just got my second email in two days from my daughter’s kindergarten about purported sex offenders approaching children, I would not keep her from nude art.

Sketch by Robert Henri

I remember when our female neighbor in California died of cancer last year. We knew it was happening and when it finally did, my daughter asked if she could go see Constance in her bed where she had died at home. We went and my daughter stood next to Constance’s motionless body for a few minutes, studying her face. Then she said, “The difference between people who are alive and dead is that when they’re dead they don’t have lips.” And we walked back across the lawn to our house.

Some hours later, my daughter asked if she could go see Constance again, so we did. Once again, she innocently, fearlessly studied the dead body (I was more uncomfortable than she was). She then walked outside where a group of adults were sitting with morose faces and declared, “Constance is not dead. Her spirit is alive all over the sky.” Needless to say, the mood changed. And we once more walked back to our house.

Sex, death, and life need exploration. The more, the better. The more freely, the healthier. The more beautifully, the happier. We don’t have to advertise or share or endlessly discuss all of them. But they are all there as the largest forces in our lives whether we know it or not. •

Conductor Pierre Vallet’s score

The Trittico Botticelliano conveys Respighi’s sense of meaning and mood in three of Botticelli’s works: his “Spring,” “Adoration of the Magi,” and “Birth of Venus.” Respighi’s three movements, like the paintings, are correspondingly vibrant, sacred, and sensuous. The only thing that might have topped this performance was if the paintings had been shown on a large video screen above the orchestra, with the camera zooming in on the details of each canvas as the pieces were played.

Most evocative is the second movement—the “Adoration”—because of the beautiful melody it borrows from O Come O Come Emmanuel. The haunting sound of a solo oboe further captures the serenity and majesty of Botticelli’s religious scene.

Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus”

In the “Birth of Venus” above, the figures (which are nearly life-size in the original) are especially magical because they float in the air, on the sea, and above the ground. The landscape is fantastical and the four figures (their bodies) are ethereal, yet their faces are fully charged with an unusual depth of emotion—all of which Respighi seems to have caught in his music. It no doubt helps that Botticelli’s works, as much as those of any Renaissance painter, have a fluid, lyrical quality.

Occasionally you come across poetry that tries to impart the essence of a painting. But music does it much better, perhaps because both mediums (painting and music) are wordless. In fact, on account of this, it can be a nice experience to visit an art gallery and walk through the exhibit while listening to music on your iPod. Sometimes a whole other dimension in the art—and in you—comes alive. ¶

Turner: The Storm

The signature piece in this exhibit is The Storm by JMW Turner, the British artist famous for his dreamy seascapes. This small painting in a gorgeous gold frame, however, is much more than that. It’s a powerhouse of intensity and mystery. Turner depicted a moment of devastation and desolation at sea, but he composed the scene with great serenity. You ‘hear’ the crashing waves, the creaking hull, and the mast that has snapped. Yet, amidst the turmoil there is a quietude that carries you beyond terrifying tragedy to a sense of awe about the power lurking behind Nature. Turner does more than paint water and light. He leads you into the unknown.

Corot: Dancing Tyrolean Shepherds by Lake Albano

Camille Corot was a French artist known for painting feathery pastoral and riverside scenes. His pieces are typically full of misty green, soft beige, just a spot or two of red for contrast, and small figures set against a romantic rural background. The thing about Corot is you never know quite what he is trying to say. He keeps you curious as he gradually steers you through, and lures you into, his compositions. You feel like you should be able to just step into his ideal world—into his version of the sublime.

Daumier: The Watering Place

Honoré Daumier was a French draftsman skilled in multiple mediums and is best known for his political caricatures and satires. What is fascinating about his paintings is that although people were his main interest, he paints them almost without facial features. All the emphasis—all the power of significance—is in their postures and gestures. Remarkably, Daumier conveys the deepest human thought and feeling through placement and movement alone. One of the best examples is this scene of a horse and rider reacting to a dog barking. The more you look at it, the more you understand something about the basic nature of all three creatures. Notice Daumier’s mastery of composition: everything is in exactly the right place and at precisely the right angle to produce the tension he wanted to convey.

These three images—none of which do justice to the originals—are just a few highlights. The rest of the exhibit is exquisite (yes, hurry to Columbia before June 7). Only one word of caution: resist the temptation to use the cell phone tour. It is poorly done, with inconsistent voices and sometimes silly comments intended more for school children. Even if you buy the audio tour in the museum, go back through the exhibit on your own and just look, look, look. Thinking is overrated, especially in art galleries. ¶

Columbia Museum of Art
1515 Main Street, Columbia SC
(803) 799-2810
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View the entire National Museum of Wales collection

A beautiful poem sent by a friend, upon the death of a loved one.

Entrance to the house

Then there is the unusual step down into the foyer and back up some marble stairs. It’s not architecturally intuitive, but it’s interesting.

And the workmanship in wood, metal, and stone—especially considering when they were done (mid 1800s)—is exquisite. You rarely see this kind of artistic detail in modern construction, even on the most expensive homes.

Be sure to take advantage of the audio tour that comes with your admission fee. And pay close attention to the instructions for how to use the audio player, because it’s easy to get confused once the tape starts playing. The tour, however, is very informative.

You’ll want to go at an easy pace so as to experience the particular charm of each room. And don’t miss the back stairway with its slender, elegant design and high windows.

When the times come, turn off your audio device and linger on the upstairs porch. You have a nice view of the houses and park across the street, and it’s just pleasant to be on such a spacious, second-story porch.

View from the front

The out buildings are also worth a visit. The sleeping quarters are simple but surprisingly tasteful in their layout, and the stable and blacksmith area is worth your attention. Inside and out, this ‘town’ plantation—all things considered—feels like it was a nice place to have lived. Given its size, solidity, and safe distance from the harbor, it’s no wonder that confederate officers appropriated it as a base during the Civil War.

Rear courtyard

The artistic highlight is the last room on the tour of the main house: the formal sitting room with the marble sculpture of a repentant Mary Magdalene. Entering this room is awkward because you’re restricted to one small corner. Also, most of the windows in this room are shuttered, so you need to give your eyes time to adjust before you can see the art and architectural details on all the walls and really appreciate the style of life that was enjoyed here before there was electricity.

Mary Magdalene

Note: try to visit on a sunny day because the house, beautiful as it is, is dark inside (don’t know why they can’t brighten it up some).

Aiken-Rhett House
48 Elizabeth St
723-1159
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The unusual melding of natural landscape, formal gardens, and outdoor sculpture is magnificent. According to the website, this is the largest collection of American figurative sculpture in the United States. You just want to walk and walk and look and look—which gets you very tired, hence the picnic.

There are also boat and trolley tours that cover a wider area than many people may want to on foot.

Also according to the website, the mammoth oak trees you will see are 250 years old, planted in the early 1700s when Brookgreen Gardens was a thriving rice plantation. It was in 1931 that Archer and Anna Hyatt Huntington developed the gardens, and it is her unique sculptures that comprised the original collection. “Designed around the walkways laid out by Mrs. Huntington, the gardens have long been regarded as one of the nation’s most beautiful botanical displays.”

Although these pictures cannot fully convey it, the light on the marble against the background of marsh and ponds is breathtaking. Each garden and every view is distinct. This place is more than just beautiful. It is a meditative wonder.

There is also a pleasant zoo said to be the only one on the coast of North and South Carolina accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums (AZA). You can get almost within arm’s reach of some of the animals, except for the alligators of course. But have you ever seen a barred owl or bald eagle up really close? Wow.

At left is a snapshot of a gorgeous red fox that we saw nestling in for a nap on a tree limb.

Need some inspiration to get up the road? Take a few minutes and watch this slideshow of the sculpture and gardens set to music.

Brookgreen Gardens
1931 Brookgreen Drive
Murrells Inlet, SC 29576
(south of Myrtle Beach)
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First thing to do: go upstairs in The Gibbes Museum to the main gallery to the exhibit of The Eight (thru Mar 22, 2009). Walk to the far left corner and find the portrait of Juan, a Mexican boy in a brown hat by Robert Henri (1865–1929). Try to settle for a few minutes in front of this portrait.

Peer into those almond-brown eyes that gaze at you so assuredly. Feel the charm of this boy. Notice his sensuous lips and full cheeks, the slightly flaring nose, his alert ears, relaxed shoulders, and loose clothing, and the ease with which the whole figure rests in its depth of canvas.

After a few minutes, wander among the other paintings, but half way through come back and look at this portrait again. Then, before you leave the exhibit, return for a final look. This is a superb way to visit a gallery. Go right to one of the best pieces, come back for a second look, and pay a final visit before leaving. It helps you see and appreciate more.

Something that makes Robert Henri’s portraits so enjoyable is that he combined an impressionist’s style with a realist’s depiction of his subjects. The brush strokes seem spontaneous and casual. Details appear imperfect. But the effect is that you are not distracted by the painterly aspects of Henri’s style. Instead, you are led into the character of his sitter.

Last thing to do: go downstairs to the back gallery and visit the Gibbes-owned portrait by Henri: The Green Fan (Girl of Toledo). Take your time with this 1912 jewel of the permanent collection. View it from different angles and distances.

Henri is sometimes compared to the Dutch master, Frans Hal, who is distinguished by his candid portraits and masterly brush strokes. But the comparison is insufficient because Henri’s talent was inferior. He could not wield a brush the way Frans Hal could. On the other hand, Henri’s temperament was less whimsical. He saw more profoundly into his subjects and rendered them with more dignity and depth.

Like all good portraitists, Henri looked boldly into his subject’s personas and daringly painted not only what he saw but what he perceived about them. The result is one of the most insightful body of portraits by a twentieth-century American artist.

Henri was also a renowned teacher who insisted that the art of painting is as much, if not more, about seeing than about painting, which is evident in his work. The more you study his portraits, the more you realize how much he penetrated the inner world of his subjects. The longer you look, the more his technique becomes secondary and the more transparently his subjects reveal themselves to you, which is the height of portraiture.

All too often, an artist’s technique—be it in painting, music, or drama—stands in the way of our being able to get at and fully enjoy the essence behind it. Henri understood this and cautioned his students about it while teaching them to focus on what they saw rather than on how they painted. Seeing was the thing, the real art. Painting was simply a result.

Henri’s preferred teaching method—which, as he explained, is hard to employ—was to have students look at a model in one room, then go to an adjoining room and draw or paint from memory. He did not want them to just copy the model. He wanted them to really ‘see’ what they were trying to capture on their canvases. As he said, “An interest in the subject, something you want to say definitely about the subject; this is the first condition of a portrait.”

It’s also a way to look at a Robert Henri portrait. What did he see? What was it that he wanted to say definitely about the subject? One clue is that, like all great portraitists, he was adept at finding a pose and posture that would match his sitters’ facial features and echo that ‘something’ in their inner character.

Something else you may want to do: get a copy of Henri’s notes to his students, The Art Spirit, Harper & Row. It is an inspiring series of comments about how to see, how to paint, and how to live.

See more of Henri’s paintings here.

The Gibbes Museum
135 Meeting Street
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