photo from Lonely Planet on Google search |
The museum is a fine one for such a small city, with mostly modern and contemporary art. Exhibits salute George Montgomery's woodworking hobby, Palm Springs modernism (particularly fine), a star walk of fame that documents actors and the film industry who made Palm Springs a legendary destination for sun and play, and western and indigenous themes. An exhibit of sculpture from the Weiner Family Collection gave me the opportunity to see work I'd probably never see again, privately held as it is. The art glass gallery is distinctive and glamorous.
I appreciated seeing accessible, well-selected and displayed and sometimes unusual works of familiar artists, and the opportunity to discover some I didn't know.
Modigliani |
I think this sculpture by Modigliani
far more interesting than his paintings. Odd, somewhat disturbing distortion of the lower face - swollen, the tiny mouth tucked beneath the pinched long nose.
Giacomo Manzu, Cardinal, 1965 |
A large Manzù (Cardinal Seduto) is at the Getty, and I've often marveled at it, and the magnificent placement it's given. Each seems to be brooding, guarding the secrets of faith, history, and the Vatican. The mitre seems to compress his brain to accommodate the narrowness of his beliefs. Cardinal Seduto sits before the vista of the great city and bay beyond, yet seems be intward-turned,meditating upon his sins and God.
Gerhard Marcks, Woman of Herero Tribe, 1955 |
Melvin Schuler, Caged Form, 1968 |
Caged Form, which seems spooked yet wryly amusing, the sightless "eyes" turned upon the wondering viewer.
Peter Voulkos, Pottery #2, 1959 |
Most museums on the West Coast don't show enough ceramics and art craftwork to suit me. I so enjoyed being in New York and Hartford and seeing the extensive fiber, ceramic, and other works on display there. And seeing another Peter Voulkos is always important. His redefinition of the use of clay to create sculptural forms subverted the divide between art and craft, and form and surface. He interpreted east coast Abstract Expressionism in his own original manner. Clay became rugged, bulging, visceral in his formidable hands. By 1959, he was working at UC Berkeley where he remained, firing in Japanese wood-fired kilns which lent a spontaneity to the surfaces of his vessel/forms. The unglazed pottery's surfaces are marked by the ashes as the kiln burns with wood for up to 5 days. This piece seems to have been painted/glazed as well; it reminds me of Japanese samurai forms or a large landlocked bird.
Dale Chihuly, End of the Day #2, 1996 |
detail, Chihuly |
Lino Tagliapeitra is a Murano-born glass artist who collaborated with Chihuly and is regarded by him as the finest glass artist in the world. He became a independent studio artist in 1990. His sculptures of the planet Saturn are his signature artwork. Surely this vase-like form, with its astonishing warm colors (he mixes them himself) and the designs embedded in the form are just too luscious and beautiful to believe. Glass is such an appropriate medium for the desert; it is as hard, fragile and luminous as the desert ecosystems themselves.
Lino Tagliapetra, Saturno, 1934 |
I already knew the artist David Bates, and found his neo-German Expressionist figuration, somewhat crude palette and forms direct, sometimes amusing(Feeding the Dogs), tragic(the Katrina series) and direct.
David Bates, North Jetty II, 1989 |
Bates' paintings depict regionalist figurative narratives: blacks, fishermen, landscape, flowers, dogs of the South. All seem somehow "classic" subjects, yet bold and profoundly human. His technique and style have altered little since he began exhibiting; if anything, it's become bolder, more energized, more crudely powerful. Always worth looking at.
Agnes Pelton, Smoketree in a Draw, 1950 |
I think her abstract works are uninteresting and weak, though she intended them to be deeply symbolic windows to meditation and the world of the spirit.
Robert Therrien, No Title (Stacked Plates), 2007 |
Jean Lowe, Elegant and Easy, date unknown |
detail, Jean Lowe, Elegant and Easy, |
Morris Lewis, #2-00, 1962 |
I don't recall seeing much Helen Frankenthaler in my museum-going. It's as if she only exists in my art history books and criticism. Mountains and Sea, 1952, is the only artwork of hers that comes to mind at all. So I was glad to find this one. I see a a glowing yellow shroud, the form concealed within perhaps a Greek sculpture? Of course not - it's about the unknown, the miasma of non-form. Then that strange green dribble-dash down the side - so enigmatic.
Helen Frankenthaler, April Screen, 1972 |
I so wished my grandchildren were with me to see this astonishing special effects trick with lights and mirrors. This photo is taken looking down into a box of cement blocks about three feet high and squared. The eye perceives an endless tunnel, a rabbit hole or a nuclear fallout shelter entrance, or a gate to a cold and empty hell.
Chul-Hyan Ahn, Tunnel, 2008 |
Peter Shelton, Little Sister, 1999 |
Little Sister is the nightdress of his sister, looming like a balloon from the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.
George Hamilton, personal dining table |
this dining table by George Hamilton, has no legs. It's suspended on rods. If the style was modern instead of generic "hispanic", it would be a seminal modern piece of furniture, surprising and, like much modern furniture, in use, rather uncomfortable and problematic. Diners would have to reach and peer about and around those rods during their meal.
I loved this rather small and dense part of the museum - marvelous "settings" of classic and distinctive modern home furnishings, art, and craft.
Add caption |
I love the verticality and delicacy of this coffee service, columnar and urban.
Clarity, urbanity, inwardness: this is furniture for dwellings in skyscrapers, urban spaces, in contained spaces that arc skyward.
Textures, natural fibers,the natural world remembered and lit by modern spotlights, and a painting that seems a window to the desert landscape that surrounds this museum.
I think I know this couple, when I see them sitting patiently on the bench beside the stair. Met them at temple, perhaps? But, fool me again, they are a Duane Hansen "tourist" sculpture, super-real, bedecked in cheap clothing that subtly mocks their dignity, though chosen for a love of the decorative, of comfort. They are here, in the museum, sitting in respect and repose, seekers, receptors. I'm smiling.
But the affection awakened is not done. I move through the last gallery exhibition, themed "water", and find this couple, benched, watching a video artwork that I passed over, not willing to take time.
Hansen's sculpture lived! Younger than me, they took time, they had time.
We chatted. They come to Palm Springs over Labor Day weekend every year from Long Beach. They were well-informed about this desert city, describing events they attend here, urban development they've seen.
One never knows how far spread the widening circles of influence, of chance - what an argument for chaos theory.
I left with an uplifted heart, the late afternoon heat receding as I left the museum to return to the swimming pool.
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