Mister Man and Moon Face

There will be a panel discussion on Jerry Donato's artwork at Reynold's Gallery on March 5th at 7pm. Howard Risatti and Myron Helfgott will be asking questions and making informed observations. It should be fun. Donato's show has been extended which is great. I missed the opening and when given some gallery time I chose to spend the afternoon at the Anderson Gallery. It is presenting a retrospective of Donato's drawings, prints and paintings though the studio installation on the third floor is the place I spent the most time. It closes on March 4... tomorrow is the deadline for VMFA Fellowship applications... Feb is over and the business of March is already at hand. Tune in the second week in May when we hope to be toasting the winners.

1994

Harry has been in purge mode. His corner office is lined with books and numerous entries that are part of the Oliver/Kollatz archive. He discovered the two photos above over the weekend and all I could say was "what happened?" Time is the ultimate teller of all truth... well time and gravity.

My life was about to drastically change on more levels than I could imagine when these photos were taken. More on that later, maybe... though my goal of late to focus on the present tense and the possibilities for the future. Our love of history can impair this focus but we are determined to make it so. Harry's collection of Flashbacks will be published this year. After that maybe we should focus on science fiction? No, no... present tense is more than enough.

tick tock

This photograph was taken on the right bank of Paris during September of 2004. Time has been fluid and unpredictable since then. I can't quite put my finger on it... life is different. Better in some ways, disappointing in others. Its not a free fall, more like a trip and fall down a big, rocky hill. I hope there is a river at the bottom.

Perhaps the world is no different than it has always been. America is probably no more shameful now than it was in the 70's... and prior... but now everyone who watches CNN or reads a newspaper knows of our disgraceful acts. Walter Reed, post-Katrina, Iraq... We've lost our credibility as humanitarians, heroes, innovators. Its going to be a long fall. We don't even have "street cred" anymore. Its just pathetic.

At uni a group of fellow art, architecture, drama and creative writing students staged a Caberet of the New Pathetic... and gee, there was so little to complain about then though I can't imagine a more Weimar experience. The bar we held it in was full or what would become the new Republicans (fraternity and sorority types), balanced by the crusty hippies who never left their college town. By the end of the night there was a great fist fight, blue lights and a lot of spilled beer. Best of all, I think the cabaret turned out to be very good art.

More work in Progress

Today I've been listening to WWOZ wind down the last hours of Carnival before lent. Fat Tuesday is a day to get yer yayas out. Since I can't be there I've been conjuring my muse during the past few days. The quicktime show above is of a new body of work which addresses the history and language of portraiture. It's very different work for me in since it reverses my process and the drawings become photographs! Very appropriate for my dyslexic, ambidextrous state of being...

If you like the new work or find it interesting please share!
To really appreciate the day turn your digital dial to wwoz. They are broadcasting from Cafe Brazil on Frenchman St... with the best horn sections in the world. An on-going titles in my work evolved from the coffee shop that was run by the same crew of bohos that opened Cafe Brazil back in the last 80's or early 90's. Does anyone remember "Until waiting Fills?" It was the black hole of hip when Reagan was running the country and Edwin Edwards was gambling with Louisiana tax dollars in Vegas under the name of Wang Chung. It would be a much simpler felony to commit these days... now that NOLA has casinos.


This photo was taken back in the day... with the lucky bead lady standing in front of the cafe. I pulled it from the Fare Grounds website. The photo is from an exhibition at Fare Grounds which presented art and artifacts from the history of NOLA's great coffee houses.

Praxis Studios: Dreams and Possibilities

Have I written about the Praxis Studios Project I've been participating in? It is a collaborative interactive video project which utilizes web-based technology to produce a feature film. (I've since learned that the project is being filmed in 16mm which makes it even more of a hybrid affair.)

I've been uploading video for their project since last fall and took some time in Madrid to conduct a few video interviews. It was great fun. During the past few days I've been laying low with this bronchial thing so its been a good time to reteach myself iMovie in order to create a trailer for their project. The Praxis website, linked above, contains links to several trailers that have been produced for this project.

For more info you can also visit the Whitney Museum website.

Beauty (not) and the Beast wish you a HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

The Harryman and I took time to put together a LOOK for Halloween of 2006.
We appeared to arrive from the land of Harry Potter or King Kong but really we were just Eurotrash Fashion Victims. The thing of it is, everything we wore came from the Oliver/Kollatz Closet... um I mean Archive.

Cupid, where the hell are you? I need YOU to shoot me a remedy for the rhinovirus crud! The Harryman misses his wife so it is imperative that we go out on the town tonite.

back posts

Dear Readers -
A cold and bed rest have been good for the catching up on all blogging endeavors. Please note that I've been back posting during this time so either scroll back, click on previous posts or use the new labeling system if you don't want to miss anything.
Otherwise, carry on...

celebrating another kind of conversation - (for more than 20 years...)

celebrating great conversations

Venus, Earth and Mars

Saturday I braved the great outdoors not to miss what I believed would be a great dialogue on artistic influence. I wasn't disappointed. A group of artists and poets which I hold in high regard get together on a monthly basis to bat around ideas over a few bottles of wine. As great as it can be by the end we wind up landing on signs of the times such as the media facination with Anna Nicole Smith.

My husband, the Harryman, it taking a pilates class for health and research reasons, really... and at the beginning of class this woman rushed into the door and exclaimed "You won't BELEIVE what's happened!!!!!!"

Harryman's attitude plumets since he fears we've finally bombed Iraq or that terrorists have taken over the White House or some such orange alert fear.... and then the pilatesed woman exclaimed: "Anna Nicole Smith is dead!" Of course this is sad news for her family and the hundreds of advertisers and media moguls who rely on her for moolah but we all know that, like Elvis and all great artists or successful celebrities, she's probably worth more dead than alive.

The world is so topsy turvey it would be appropo that our next salon topic be who ISN'T the father of ANS's daughter and how much money they should inherit. Sigh.

What's the deal?

Now that I am sick in bed and have time to finish uploading the Madrid posts Blogger has automatically switched me to the nouveau blogger. I am one of those "if it ain't broke don't fix it" kind of girls so I've avoided this conversion... until now.

All would be well if their nouveau template offered me the same tools as the old blogger. I can't upload photos on the new version. There is no button for it. I am assumung there is supposed to be a button for it but it isn't showing up because I work on a mac or my version of firefox isn't exactly what it should be or perhaps I've attained my undefined limit of uploadable photos? p l e a s e advise.

I've checked the known issues link. It didn't help.

Rendevous with Richmond

Ah. Ech. Life is good. I feel bad. Flying makes it worse. I have missing luggage. My head is full of snot and Goya and reconditioned air with molecules expelled from the passengers of flight 1411.
This time I had nothing to hear since I was the one expelling infected molecules...

I am home. Carole will be soon... with her expensive emergency passport in hand. She spent her last day at the Prado. It seems her blonde locks and intense looking at Spanish Art attracted a professional pick pocket who managed to get into her secure purse and take her wallet and passport. I am glad I wasn't there to witness the agony and defeat of a seasoned traveler being had, once again, by the Spanish inquisition...

With her employer's connections at the Reine Sofia and her capacity as a nurse she somehow managed to get an emergency passport in MADRID in less than 24 hours so she could travel home with the entourage. Madrid was one of those "life experiences" I'll hold onto for many years. The art, the people, the food, the RITZ CARLTON... hey... I am blessed... even if I have to travel with something close to "walking pneumonia." All things considered I am lucky to be home.

El Jardin de las Delicias

A report of a splendid morning in Madrid:
My second attempt to visit *Museo de la Real Academia de Bella Artes, the art school that Goya once directed was fruitful. It's not far from the Prado but its hours are different than most Madrid museums due to its educational mission. It's open on Mondays, which is a plus. I visited on a Tuesday morning before heading over to a luncheon at the Reina Sofia. Madrid is full of undulating hills... just enough to push my athletic parameters without strain so it was a satisfying stroll up the hill and then up the stairs to their permanent collection.

I walked into the Goya room first, by accident and the attendant quickly made me turn around! She wasnted to be sure that I didn't miss their expansive collection of Spanish painting. The Goya's were the highlights for me... small and powerful. The curator thoughfully provided English translations for each paintings' panel which always makes a difference. I did not know or remember that Goya lost six children in infancy, became deaf from illness as an adult and eventually lost his wife. Only his seventh son survived.

It was a dark period in Spain's history and from what I've read Goya's path was paved to be the messenger. One of his homes was nicknamed "House of the Deaf". How could I not know this? If anyone can recommend a good Goya biography I am long overdue a study of his life. I've loved his paintings since the first slide hit the screen in Paul Grootkerk's class.

The painting above depicts an asylum of the late 18th C but if it weren't named as such it could just as well be the Garden of Earthly Delights of Goya's world... of perhaps a long night at the White House. What can I say? To quote my Harryman: "Art is a beast that eats his own head" so Goya, once again, is the messenger for our times. (after seeing my artwork one time a French workman pointed to me and said in broken English "You are not an optimist.")
So, in reading this post, I guess one must consider the source.



Bosch's El Jardin de las Delicias




*I apologize in advance for this less than satisfying link but it will give you specific info about the art school if you're interested

Getting it together for the Reina Sofia

Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow there is the preview/opening of the Chuck Close Retrospective at the Reine Sofia. Today is my last chance to see a few things before it'll be time to pack my bags for Richmond. Unfortunately I'm not feeling that well. Today I met C at the Reine Sofia, we got a preview of the retrospective and we were treated to lunch in the ubercool R.S. cafe. A number of people involved in the installation of the exhibition were present - designers, curators, etc. They ordered a selection of amazing Tapas and Spanish Wines for us to share... it was a divine afternoon. I was happy to hear that the portraits of Klaus and Jed arrived from Richmond on Sunday. It was good to see a bit of Richmond in the show... and to really look at the work. I didn't know that Klaus was a monochromatic watercolor on paper mounted on canvas. Nor was it behind glass so it was much easier to apprecicate Chuck's technique that most of his watercolors. Glass gets in the way. Its a necesaary nuisance but one I appreciate bypassing whenever possible.

Afterwards we rolled upstairs and went straight to the third floor which houses early 20th C work. The center piece of the collection, in my opinion, was Picasso's Gunernica. It didn't disappoint me as Picasso sometimes can. He's one of the artists that can enrage, engage, infuriate and seduce me if given the chance. Guernica engaged, seduced, awed and inspired me. Worth the trip, really.

I tried to give the collection as much attention as I did the Prado but once again, I lost C & C and the wine we enjoyed at lunch took me for a tail spin. I think I'd be ok if I weren't fighting a bug of some sort. I looked HARD in between, once again, looking for pay phones to call C. A surprise I didn't expect were the wonderful Gris and Tapias on the third and top floors. After exhausting myself and discovering C on the third floor she gave me her ticket as she had to get back to her responsibilities. I ran into B, M, M and B before I left. They are in just in from NY and I heard their voices in the Dali room. They seem like a friendly, if jet lagged, collection of faces. Later, I met C back in the room after I stopped by the book store and picked up a few publications. I am absolutely depleted. Time for a shower.

C has been in the room for awhile, looks great and is ready to go out into the night. I don't know if I have it in me tonite. I think I'm down for the count.

Tintoretto, El Rastro and more

Carole and I met Claus and Billy at the Prado at 10am in order to avoid the lines for the Tintoretto show. This Venetian painter was well worth racing to the feet of the Prado. I avoided Venice on my only trip to Italy because I was traveling solo and wanted to wait until I could see it with my true love at the time. Big mistake. Lessons learned....

Tintoretto rocked and must be the next best thing to visiting Venice. I love his use of classical narrative and interpretations of great stories such as Helen's abduction from Troy. Afterwards we scanned the gift shop and managed to find a few affordable books, etc. The weak dollar has really made me thriftier than I'd like to be.

Our reward for getting out and spending time with our muse was an invitation to eat brunch in the Ritz Madrid's great dining room. It reminded me of the Jefferson's spread without the jazz combo. Instead it featured Beckham, Posh Spice and the little spices with grannie. They were enjoying brunch across the dining room. I haven't spent any time visiting their place is celebrityland but I must admit I can see the attraction. Beckham is a true Adonis. I had NO IDEA.

After a few glasses of champayne, an espresso and a sampling of every great tapas I could imagine we left the gilded dining room of the Ritz and made our way across town to El Rastro, the famed Madrid flea market.

I like to visit a citie's flea market since it tells me so much about the place and its people. FYI - El Rastro is a tiny market and doesn't come close to the numerous markets in Paris or London or even Glasgow. Even though we arrived late I knew from the lay of the land its more like a one of the small neighborhood markets in Paris than what was implied in the travel guides. It was a bit of a walk there and back - which ended when Carole had to get back to the Paseo del Prado for work.

I managed to squeeze in a short visit to the Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection which was well worth the reduced three euro entrace fee. Their portrait collection was the most memorable for me... with a striking Rembrandt and some of the best Ducth painters. I hope I can squeeze in the Portrait show that opens on the 6th, the same day as the Chuck Close retrospective at the Reine Sofia.

Counting sheep and makin' bacon

C and I waded into our only Saturday night in Madrid with a little fear and much enthusiasm. I am determined to avoid the trauma of having my ID lifted by pick pockets or any of the other shenanigans tourists put up with in Spain. Its a great nation, but really... that's a tradition I wouldn't miss. I am not in a sporting mood!

With mermaid C by my side, I was in the mood to interview a few locals about their hometowns or about the manifestation we witnessed earlier in the day. C is really good at working out the translations. I am a good tripod. There were street artisans, romeos, club hawkers, senoritas with long hair of every color, boys and men in tight jeans... on thing I did not see evidence of was a hip hop or rap attitude. I heard some of this come out of the bars but I didn't see its impact on the street... and I didn't miss it. There is nothing stranger than seeing french school boys with baggy pants and shirts and their hats in reverse. Ok, it wasn't so common in France either but it is a presence that is undeniable!

As much as we loved sitting in a wine bar and taking in the atmosphere we loved walking the district just east of the Prado and witnessing the culture on the streets and in the windows... cafes, clubs, restaurants, museums of ham, irish pubs, tapas bars, etc, etc. Earlier in the night each cafeteria or cafe that had a TV chose to televise the speech that was being given at the protest march. Everyone was silent... these people believe their voices and their votes count and it continues to inspire me.

I could have walked all night but our fish dogs were tired from a day of adventure. Time to count the spanish sheep cheese.

No need for a Compass...

My friend C and I both ordered the menu del dias at El Pabellon Del Espejo on Saturday morning. This charming bistro is located in the middle of Passeo de Recoletos in Madrid. The service was great and parralled the decor's vintage charm. We broiled Cod was perfect and we finished our meal with a generous slice of layered chololate cake.

As we admired the chandelier and stained glass from the end of the restaurant there were hundreds people gathering outside. Some were coming into the bistro with placards and red and yellow banners. It turns out there was a manifestation scheduled for that afternoon and evening...against terrorism... according to our waiter, but others told us it was directed to the Basque rebels. It was beautful, watching all kinds of people gather to demonstrate.. and inspiring. I hope to post some video of the manifestation on Google video soon.

We made our way to the archeology museum after stopping many times to interview locals for the Praxis Project... (did I mention I am not bilingual?) About the time we arrived at the two pair of winged sphinxes stationed by the museum entrance Carole had to leave for work. She'll be on call for the duration of this adventure so we've just learned to improvise.

The museum reminded me of the Victorian and Albert before it was new and improved... the original vitrines still holding its collection of mummies, et al. Afterwards I mady my way back to the hotel. The crowds were thick and everyone was listening to the speach being broadcast from the Plaza of Independence. Crowds were clapping and chanting their support. The streets were closed to traffic for the demonstration so it was possible to walk right up to Neptune's and Cybele's two fountains. I can see why Madrid is a late night city... its really most beautiful after dark.

At the hotel I met C, C and M to have drinks in the lounge and make plans for our Saturday night in Madrid!

The Prado

I was very, very lucky to find a hostel so close to the Prado, train station and the Ritz. This place is private, quiet, cheap (30E.) and sparkling clean. I'd stay here again. I left my bags with the staff this morning so I could embark on a day at the Prado. I know C. and entourage are expected around noon but I also know that delays are common so I took that as an opportunity to spend the day close to home and with my muse. I've wanted to see this collection for many years. Velasquez, Goya, Murillo, Rembrandt.... they are all here and more. Today I paid my respects.

I normally try to scan each room in a casual manner - always ISO inspiration or a lesson to learn. Not this collection. I took a map and actually marked it up...checking off each room as I made my way through this temple of art. The black Goyas were the paintings that held me the longest... seemed the most relevant and telling. There was also a lovely drawing show on the bottom floor that contained pages of Goya's sketchbooks. I haven't exhausted myself so thoroughly in a long time and took only one break for a cafe con leche and tostillo this afternoon. The cafe was my only disappointment at the Prado. It seemed one step up from the cafe at the Greyhound station in Richmond. The food was better but it was dark and institutional... a lot like the cafe at the airport. Its surprising since the bookstore has all this expensive loot (postcards are one euro, etc) and the ammenities at these world class institutions are devoid of much consideration. Of course most of my attention was spent on protecting my assets since these are the kind of places where tourists lose their credit cards, cash, etc.

I also spent a lot of time looking for a payphone so I could call the hotel ISO of C and Co. I was finally able to charge my French mobile last night but haven't had the time or clarity to figure out how to recharge the SIM card with prepaid minutes. This could be a problem since C. can't reach me otherwise.

I don't remember what time I finally received confirmation C. had checked in but I called room #604 and then left the Prado in order to "check in" at the Ritz. C had taken care of everything, had my bag taken up from storage and was basically at the door, glowing in a plush white robe, when the doorman delivered me to the sixth floor. Wow... it felt so good to be stationed in one place... particularly a place noted for its five stars! I left C in short order to pick up my other bags from the hostal. We toasted our great luck... for uno momento we are living the live we want to live!*

Even better, was an invitation for drinks from C's employer in the lounge downstairs. It was time to wake up and smell the roses. Our conversation came easy... art and politics**, history and culture***.... the only thing that would have made it better would have been the presence of the Harryman. Tonite I'll be counting my blessings as I fall to sleep.

*With shots of Bushmills from a fifth I'd picked up at dutyfree in Phillie. That was a committment... hauling that thing up to Bilbao and back, though it came in handy on the night train back into Madrid.

**C's employer is a long time New Yorker, democrat and occassional fundraiser when duty calls. He listed all the reasons Guliani would be a terrible prez.

***I heard a great story about day they opened the Lewis Wing at the VMFA... the Lewis's flew a plane full of NY artists to Richmond to have lunch with the govenor and wife...

From the wayside, between the lines

Madrid's Botanical Garden

The train from Bilbao arrived without cause. I woke in time to wash my face and gather my belongings. (around 8am) It felt better... arriving in a station I was familiar with.* I was still on the fence about what to do... seville, cordoba or madrid? My research at Atocha proved very helpful in that regard. The fare for the high speed train was substantially higher than I was prepared to pay in my state of weariness.... more than 100 E. I decided to take a night and clear my head before C & C arrived. I gathered myself and headed north toward the Prado. If nothing else, there was always the museo and their coat check! As I grew closer to the Prado I looked left and right in search of a sign. There was a hotel to the left...too shabby and big and close to the street. As the Prado loomed closer I came to a small Plaza on the left, across the street from the Botanical Garden. It was circled by a tapas place, a wine bar and more. In the middle was a fountain and beyond that a small sign that read HOSTAL!

I walked over and rang the bell and spanish errupted from the speaker. I asked if there was a room and they buzzed me in! I opened the door to see a LIFT!!!** I went up and the man asked me if I had a reservation. no, I said and he nodded sadly and held up his hands in that universal expression of "there is nothing I can do..."
Another woman said Wait(!) would this be ok? She opened a door to a tiny room with a single bed, tiny desk, lamp, wardrobe and a sink!!! H E A V E N.

Hostal Bruna was perfect for my needs. I washed my face, changed clothes, well, rearranged what I was wearing - and left shortly therafter to taste Madrid! I purchaced the local listing, as recommended by everyone*** and began the afternoon at the botanical garden. There was an exhibition titled "25 Spanish Artists of the Future in the gallery toward the back of the garden. I'll try to post photos soon. It seemed much a like a very good MFA show though the space was great and there was definitly some work I to be enjoyed.

Afterwards I decided to walk up Paseo Prado and Recoleto ISO lunch and perhaps an art fair I found in the listing. I started ISO Cafe Guijon where artists and writers have gathered for decaded. Touristy and expensive. I found another wonderful cafe further down on Paseo Ricoleto with a menu del dias of 10 E! That included bottled water, a cafe con leche, fried cod and an excellent plate of rice and seafood. Contentment.

I continued my walk north ISO of this friggin art fair of 40 Spanish Galleries... I walked, walked and walked. After almost two hours I came upon it... ferme. Closed. A week ago. The listing was wrong. A misprint. Of course I wouldn't have known this is another artist hadn't told me. She made her way there, too. She was Spanish but spoke excellent English. She called the security guards using the number in the listing to confirm what was going on. We checked out another show that was about to open in an adjacent gallery and she pointed out the best galleries on my map. She also told me about the magic bus number 27 which would take me all the way home. Well, at least as far as the hostal!

I watched a film on my computer just to veg and went out about 11pm in search of dinner. I guess I'm turning into a Spaniard. The places close to the hostal were a little too smokey for my mood so I found a market, discovered from wonderful Spanish Sausage (NOW I understand my Hemingway was also so excited about sausage and ham... I thought he was just a manly carnivore but this stuff is the best in the world. I wonder if it is legal to bring some back to the states? We'll see.

*I'll never forget getting out at the Bilbao station. It was dark and it was raining and I had no idea which way to go or what to do. Jet lag and ambien will add to the confusion already caused by an out of date map on the walls of the station and no open toilet, info desk, etc. It was s a d. A beautiful train station with no ammenties for the Guggenhiem pilgrims... hmmm. I hope this isn't a trend.

** another good sign!

***not recommended by me!