I know you don’t want to ponder the definition of “authenticity” during ‘Netflix and Chill’ night … but do it anyway. Watch the documentary Beltracchi: The Art of Forgery. Beltracchi fooled the art world for decades, making millions with his impeccable forgeries. Then he (sort of) went to prison.
Beltracchi is also a pretty funny guy. One of my favourite moments in the film is a conversation between him and Art Historian Henry Keazor. Keazor says that when art historians authenticate fakes, they look foolish. Beltracchi replies, laughing, “If you write a catalogue of works … bring it to me first.”
In contrast, the auctioneers, gallery owners, and art collectors that Beltracchi tricked out of those millions, are not so funny. They’re stuffy, obsessed with money, and hate being told that they’re wrong. Yeah, Beltracchi is a criminal. But isn’t paying millions of dollars for a painting already criminal? I think Beltracchi’s real work of art is revealing the fakery of the art world.
Plus, you have to admit, Beltracchi’s paintings are beautiful. And isn’t that the whole point of art? It isn’t the price … it’s what’s in the frame that counts. Yeah, it might not be a painting by (insert famous artist here), but it’s still nice to look at.
So grab your bae and make it a ‘Netflix and Authenticity Debate’ night tonight.
Note: You might find Beltracchi: The Art of the Forgery under it’s original, more intimidating-sounding German title: Beltracchi: Die Kunst der Fälschung.
As long as there has been art in museums, people have enjoyed taking pictures of art in museums:
Gallery of the Louvre by Samuel Morse (1831-3)
Originally that meant painting more paintings of paintings.
Now there are cameras, and people use them to take pictures of art. There is also such a thing as #museumselfieday – in which Beyonce and Jay Z participated (with the Mona Lisa) this past year:
If you’re not Beyonce and Jay Z, good luck trying to get a similar selfie with Lisa:
The sheer amount of cameras in front of some masterpieces is bananas. I am sure you can get a better look at Lisa online.
I’m not a total curmudgeon. I am glad to see people engage with art. If you enjoy the museum experience enough to preserve and share it on the Instagrams, then good for you. However, too many cameras in one place can ruin the fun.
Seriously!? How am I supposed to see her!?
But guess what? People are also using cameras to make art about art in museums!
Like whattheysee on Tumblr, which documents what masterpieces are looking at while you look at them:
So the next time you’re crowded in front of the Mona Lisa, waiting for Beyonce and Jay Z to get out of the way, how about you turn around and wander until you find something great and/or hilarious to take pictures of? Here are some suggestions:
Egyptian Funeral Masks that look like Bill Murray.
“Funerary Portrait,” Roman period, 1st – 2nd century, Egyptian, Fayum region, Tempera on wood, Seattle Art Museum
Your fellow visitors. Like this selfie of a selfie I captured in the Metropolitan Museum of Art:
(Warning: the second suggestion might not be entirely legal, depending upon where you put your camera.)
Really, you want THREE suggestions? It’s not creative if I tell you to do everything! Just go and do it!
I know you’re still in recovery from last night. So here’s some art sketches for you. No, not THAT type of sketch. I mean Portlandia sketches.
For those of you who don’t know the show, WHY DON’T YOU? (Sorry for the outburst). Portlandia, created by and starring Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein, is a sketch comedy all about Portland. Obviously if you’re going to poke fun at Portland, the subject of visual arts is going to come up. Here are three such clips:
Art Project
Good Art Bad Walls
Anti-Corporate Student Art
(Not currently on YouTube. But you can watch it here!)
It is worth mentioning that Fred Armisen was recently on Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee (Jerry Seinfeld’s internet talk show). Seinfeld asked Armisen, “What would you do if comedy didn’t exist in the culture you live in?” Armisen replied (to an empty chair, as Seinfeld went to the bathroom) “Even though we made fun of painting, visual art.” Armisen jokes because he loves. I do too.
I saw Pop Departures at the Seattle Art Museum this weekend. I’m admittedly a little late, (the exhibition opened in October) but hey, I got there. And wouldn’t Warhol show up three months late to a party? I think he would.
Andy Warhol – Marilyn (1967)
Pop Departures explores Pop Art’s origins and what came after (hint: a lot of weird s**t). Pioneer Pop Artists Warhol, Lichtenstein, and Oldenburg are featured at the entrance to the exhibition. Then we walk through the subsequent generations, from Koons (the 80s) to Cabrera (the ought’s).
I must admit—I am not a Pop Art fanatic. Hey—DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. I’ve tried. I appreciate the statement that the original Pop Artists were making. Consumerism = icky. But they made their point by reproducing the icky-ness of consumerism. So looking at Pop Art makes me feel nauseous. (As Marshall McLuhan, famous Canadian* and media scholar, once said, “The medium is the message.” When McLuhan learned that this phrase would be used ad nauseam by bloggers and Pop Art curators, he said “Hrmf! They don’t know what it means! They just like alliteration!”)
That said—I enjoyed learning about Pop’s creation and evolution. In the beginning, there was Lichtenstein. I have seen a Lichtenstein up close before, but only a serigraph print—this was the first I’d seen of his acrylics. You don’t feel the full effect of a Lichtenstein unless you stand right in front of it. I leaned in to get a close look at the dots on Kiss V (1964), and quickly moved away. The pulp cartoon, blown up to nightmarish proportions, made me feel ill. I wondered if that was his intent. Either way, I couldn’t look at it for long.
Kiss V (1964)
I didn’t spend very long with the Warhols either—there was a crowd swarming around his works. The crowd was listening to a tour guide talking about Warhol’s film Eat – in which artist Robert Indiana eats a single mushroom for 45 minutes. (Oh, Warhol. Why anyone would ever watch that, I have no idea… it has a 3.8 rating on IMDB).
Eat
Moving on to Claes Oldenburg … he made fake versions of real things (such as baked potatoes) in various sizes. Oldenburg’s undulating Ice Bag – Scale B (1971) gave me the willies. I wasn’t sure what the willies were until I saw this thing, but now I do. Here’s a video of the bag writhing:
The curator’s description said the movement was erotically suggestive, like advertising itself. With this bag now firmly implanted in my memory, I will certainly be more creeped out by sexy advertising in the future.
On to Koons and his contemporaries, who reveled in the kitsch of the 80s. Though it makes sense for the time, this breed of Pop Art is even more unsettling than its predecessor. Rather than critiquing consumerism, it was the artistic equivalent of “America, F**k Yeah!” I felt even more uneasy looking at Koon’s Pink Panther (1988) than I did Oldenberg’s undulating bag. More and more I got the feeling of being miniaturized, while all of these normal-sized objects were blown up to obscene proportions.
Pink Panther (1988)
But then, Pop Artists start critiquing Pop Art. Commercialized artists making fun of their commercialized art about commercialism. I like it. One of my favourite pieces was Talent (1986) by David Robbins—a series of cheesy film-industry head-shots of contemporary artists. Some shots wouldn’t be out of place in a Tim and Eric sketch.
Talent (1986)
The exhibition ends in the present day. My favourite contemporary piece was Cabrera’s Vocho (Yellow) (2004). Mexican artist Margarita Cabrera sewed yellow vinyl into a life-sized VW Bug (finally, something in appropriate proportions!). Plus, rather than being a big thing for being a big thing’s sake (I’m looking at you, Oldenburg and Koons!), it told a very specific story, about the demise of the last VW auto factory in Mexico. The Bug looked quite sad and dilapidated. (Not ready to come to life and eat me like some other Pop sculptures).
Vocho (Yellow) (2004)
I felt quite nauseous when I left the exhibition (granted, I was hung-over, so that may not have entirely been the exhibition’s fault). I stepped into the adjoining gallery and retreated to the beautiful world of French Impressionism. I breathed easier, and my stomach settled. Call me crazy, but I like “pretty” art. I know the point of Pop Art was not to make pretty things. But I think their point has been made now—we all know that commercialism is disgusting. So why continue to make art that is also gross?
People have argued since the movement began that Pop Art was the end of art. Now, I may have just shat all over Pop Art—but I am not one of those people. Those people are idiots. For as long as humans exist, we will make art. I look forward to seeing what comes next.
You may have heard the art world rumbling this week. Everyone (and I mean everyone) was at Art Basel – Miami … the world’s biggest Modern Art fair/ debaucherous beach party. It’s all done now, but as the attendees nurse their hangovers, I must draw your attention to the best thing to come out of the fest: Fart Basel.
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Yup. An anonymous visitor turned the week-long showcase of contemporary art into a sustained fart joke on Instagram (and Twitter). Oh the wonders of photo editing.
The holidays are upon us, and that only means one thing … everyone is posting pictures of cookies on Instagram. GAH. I’m so hungry! But I’m also too tired to bake, because I’ve been spending all my time drooling over pictures of food art.
Siskin is a NYC-based Rice Krispie sculptor (AKA the best job ever). You can commission her to create a piece, she’ll ship it to you, and you can admire/ eat it. (For example: a Rice Krispie bust of your own head. I’m not sure why you’d want to do that, but you can!)
Here’s a bison skull by Siskin:
Mmm… Georgia O’Krispie
Not hungry yet? Well, how about now:
Yep, that’s a Mondrian cake.
The food artist: San Francisco-based pastry chef Caitlin Freeman. Freeman wrote Modern Art Desserts, a cookbook full of desserts inspired by pieces at the SFMOMA. If you want to make some of your own food art, you can buy the book here.
But I think if I tried to make the Mondrian cake, it would probably come out looking like this:
I hope you’re a more skilled food artist than I.
My favourite food artist of all is NYC-based photographer Sarah Anne Ward. Her Dessert Art series is inspired by consumerism and modern art, and includes: a Rothko cake, a Damien Hirst Candy Skull, and a Jeff Koons Twinkie Balloon Dog:
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Delicious and thought-provoking.
Plus, I could probably make the Koons piece myself. In fact, I’m going to do that now.
So, you’re spending the holidays with your relatives, and you’re already sick of them. Well, here’s something to do while you’re hiding from your family on the pull-out couch in the basement!
Watch The Power of Art (BBC 2, 2006).
This series, presented by impassioned scholar Simon Schama, explores eight pivotal moments in art history, including: Turner’s The Slave Ship (1840), Picasso’s Guernica (1937), and David’s The Death of Marat (1793).
As a bonus, this series also includes some hilarious over-re-enacting, featuring Andy Serkis as Van Gogh (he eats paint!), Allan Corduner as Mark Rothko (he broods and smokes profusely!), and Simon Schama as his younger self (he wears a wig!).
The Bernini episode is my favourite … full of Renaissance drama. Spoiler alert: Bernini’s lover, Costanza—fans of irony, rejoice—cheats on him with his brother. In retaliation, Bernini hires a man to slash Costanza’s face to ribbons. (Yikes! Chill out, man!) But Costanza’s beauty lives on forever in the bust Bernini carved of her:
So there’s eight hours of quality programming for you:
Caravaggio – David with the Head of Goliath (c. 1610)
Bernini – Ecstasy of Saint Teresa (1657)
Rembrandt – The Conspiracy of Claudius Civilis (1662)
David – The Death of Marat (1793)
Turner – The Slave Ship (1840)
Van Gogh – Wheatfield with Crows (1890)
Picasso – Guernica (1937)
Rothko – Black on Maroon (1958)
Happy YouTube Hole-idays.
Here’s a playlist, but if this link fails, just search YouTube for The Power of Art. You can do it! I know you can.
Here’s an article I wrote for the school paper! Yes, I know I’m a keener!
Creativity comes alive at the Royal BC Museum
I was an artist-in-residence at the Royal BC Museum. Well, at least I pretended to be for a few hours last Saturday at the Creative Collections Workshop. Creative Collections is a new program in which participants engage artistically with the museum. We got to peek behind the scenes, find an object that inspired us, and create a piece of art.
We met amongst boxes of pipe-cleaners, pastels, and popsicle sticks in the arts and crafts room. There were three leaders (Kim Gough—Adult Learning Team Lead, Chris O’Connor—Family and Schools Program Producer, and Megan Anderson—Exhibit Fabrication Specialist), six participants, and two “community champions” (volunteers Ben Fast and Lauren Chancellor). We began by cutting up photos from the archives (relax, they were prints) and turning them into name-tag buttons (mine featured Canadian suffragette Nellie McClung). Gough asked us to introduce ourselves and our favourite creative outlets. Answers ranged widely, including writing, photography, dancing, and interior design. But, we were all there for one reason—to create. OK, two reasons—to snoop around the museum and to create.
Gough and O’Connor took us on a tour of the collections. Our first stop was the Vertebrate Lab, where we saw shelves full of whale skeletons, mountain-goat horns, and fuzzy bats. Next up, the Entomology Lab, with its shudder-inducing assemblage of big bugs: “I’m glad I’ve never seen one of these live,” one participant said, holding up a jar with a giant centipede inside.
Afterwards, we walked through the Modern History collections, where O’Connor pointed out his favourite item—a nurse’s belt from the First World War, with a record of every place she was stationed hand-written on the inside. In each room, the leaders let us look through drawers and choose inspirational items for our final project. It was like being on a field trip—one where the grown-ups trusted you to wander off.
We wrapped up our tour and headed back to the classroom. Earlier, I had chosen a big cockroach in a jar as my object of inspiration. To me, this program was about the act of discovery—a concept which I find both wonderful (in a creative sense) and silly (Christopher Columbus, anyone?). So I penned a fictitious historical letter from non-existent entomologist, Sir Reginald Futts, about his discovery of the world’s only talking cockroach. (Spoiler alert: he killed it).
Image Courtesy Ben Fast
At the end, we all showed off our creations. There were all manners of art objects: an abstract painting, a photo collage, and even a butterfly chrysalis woven out of straw. Then we spoke about what we got out of the experience: “I wanted to tap into my creativity, which I haven’t done for a long time,” one of the participants said. I agreed. I haven’t been let loose in a room full of art supplies in ages, and it was great to have the freedom to do it again.
The resulting creations were featured in the Early Shift: Creative Collections event Nov. 21. The Early Shift featured the museum’s real artists-in-residence: Aimée vanDrimmelen, Lindsay Delaronde, and Gareth Gaudin. Events included sketching stations, light painting photography by Shane Lighter, and new soundtracks for Modern History dioramas—recorded by UVic Anthropology of Sound students.
Nerds! Behold Super Flemish, by French photographer Sacha Goldberger. In this portrait series, Goldberger has Dutch Mastered comic book heroes and villains. It is everything you’ve always wanted… if everything you’ve always wanted was to see the Hulk in 16th century breeches. I’ll shut up while you look at them:
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Van-Ironman is possibly my favourite. But it is so difficult to chose… they are all amaze-balls. See more here!
In case you haven’t seen it, Parks and Recreation‘s Amy Poehler did a commercial for Old Navy, in which she played an art dealer. The commercial itself is nothing special, but the outtakes certainly are:
ART IS STUPID 