Extreme Renaissance Sportswear Back at The Met

JoustAfter a brief Yuletide absence, the spectacular Armor for the Joust of Peace has been returned to the Great Hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, just inside the main entrance, to honor 100 years of the Arms and Armor Department.

Not seen in all its splendor since the 1980s, you’re looking at what extreme sports dressing looked like back in 1500. It all took place as the Renaissance was dawning across Europe, so this outfit was designed for safety and sport – not combat. The objective: unseat your opponent during a horseback charge across an open field with a blunt lance.

Jousts happened on open fields without barricades to separate the horses, so the horse’s head armor completely covered its eyes (yes, galloping blind). A straw-filled bumper hung around his chest for protection. This jouster’s wear was super-heavy (over 80 pounds for the body and 21 for the helmet), with the padded helmet physically bolted to the body armor to protect against whiplash when the inevitable impact occurred.

Solid covering over the horse's eye

Solid covering over the horse’s eye

The Met’s first curator of arms, Bashford Dean, found this German ensemble (even though some pieces were missing) and purchased it in 1904, setting the stage for many, many subsequent acquisitions (oh, about 14,000 more).  It lacked an original helmet, but when Dean saw the one on display (an 1891 recreation made by Parisian armorer superstar Daniel Tacheaux), Dean not only snapped it up, but hired Tacheaux to be the Met’s first armor conservator.

The shield and upper-thigh protectors are also restorations, and so is the horse’s brocade and velvet. But standing so close to this magnificent mount below the arches of the Great Hall, it’s easy to imagine you’re hearing the hoofbeats and roar of the sports crowd, and know that it’s not coming from the gift shop.Detail

Party Like It’s 1913 at Grand Central

Just after the clock strikes midnight on GCT's 100th birthday

After the clock struck midnight on GCT’s 100th birthday

At midnight tonight, the crews, security, police, and station manager were on hand to see the famous clock above the information desk signal the beginning of Grand Central Terminal’s 100th birthday. Just like a film set, everyone was concentrating on pulling magic out of a hat for the public birthday celebration that begins today.

If you’re within commuting distance, get over to Grand Central today to rub shoulders with celebrities, artists, and officials commemorating 100 years of our beautiful terminal.   At 10am, see Cynthia Nixon, our poet laureate Billy Collins, Keith Hernandez, Caroline Kennedy, Melissa Manchester, and (yes) the Vanderbilt family pay tribute in a rededication birthday celebration.

Check the web site for the afternoon schedule of honors, music, giveaways, and  1913 prices (one day only!)  for shoe shines (10¢), fries (10¢), loaves of rye bread (6¢), pasta (5¢), and cocktails at Michael Jordan’s (75¢).

IMG_1706Also, be sure you seek out the replica of the Terminal made out of Lego bricks in the Station Master’s Office. Then, dance the afternoon and night away (until 9:30) with Grammy Award-winning big band Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks. The celebration continues all year, but more on that later.

If you can’t get there, enjoy the new history timeline from your desktop (especially the part in 1976 with Jackie).

Or watch the Metro-North guys polishing up the chandeliers in Patrick Cashin’s photos on the MTA Flickr feed.

Revolutionary Counterculture Gives Birth to Soho

George Maciunas, Self-Portrait, 1961/2012. Installation view. Source: Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center.

George Maciunas, Self-Portrait, 1961/2012. Installation view. Source: Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center.

A revolutionary Lithuanian studies at Cooper Union, decides to thumb his nose at elitist art, leads a group genre-busting artists, asks why not use vacant industrial space in a down-and-out part of the city, petitions the City to create artist cooperative-lofts, and…voilà, Soho is born.

Remarkably enough, it’s a story that’s never been told, so kudos to Cooper Union School of Art for the collaboration with Lithuania’s Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center to mount the exhibition at 41 Cooper Square, Anything Can Substitute Art: Maciunas in Soho. Who better to make the connection between art history, the avant-garde, and real estate?

Yoko Ono Mask (1970) by George Maciunas. Source: Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center

Yoko Ono Mask (1970) by George Maciunas. Source: Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center

The show documents the early work of George Maciunas, who emigrated from Lithuania in 1948, studied at Cooper Union in the 1950s, became fascinated with the history of migrations and revolutions in the then-Soviet Union, wrote the famous Fluxus manifesto calling for a revolution against “elitist” art in New York, and gathered a group of downtown provocateurs around him.  He drew a map of the most influential art events of 1965-1967. The roster reads like a who’s who today, but at the time, they were newbies living on the edge — Kaprow, Schneeman, Moorman, Paik, Satie, Rauchenberg, Trish Brown, Gordon and Setterfield, and Yoko.

Thinking about Russian revolutions since the 1230s encouraged Maciunas to ask why a revolution couldn’t be mounted against the art “establishment” by declaring that “anything can be art”. He and his friends produced an avalanche of work that kept things simple and cheap, playing with the concepts of ephemeral events, experiences, packaging, context, and games. You know them today as happenings, performance art, conceptual art, multiples, boxed sets, word art, multimedia, and (possibly) Occupy Wall Street.

Installation view of Ay-O’s Tactile Box (No. 25) (1964). You put your hand into the hole to feel what’s inside. Source: Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center.

Installation view of Ay-O’s Tactile Box (No. 25) (1964). You put your hand into the hole to feel what’s inside. Source: Jonas Mekas Visual Arts Center.

Mekas, another Lithuanian immigrant and founder of Anthology Film Archives, kept a lot of his friends’ early work, so the gallery is filled with never-before-seen Fluxus art, posters, letters, and maps that normally reside in Vilnius.

Maciunus thought Fluxus principles could also be applied to urban living, business, and real estate, so the show includes correspondence with government officials about permission to establish cooperative artist spaces. A highlight is a hand-drawn map showing where Fluxhouse co-ops would transform abandoned industrial lofts in the 25-square blocks of Soho. His first transformation was 80 Wooster, which gave Fluxus artists a chance to live and work together, unencumbered by walls and tradition — a socially conscious, revolutionary move that eventually influenced the course of art, lifestyles, and real estate here and around the world.

Design Driven by Necessity at MoMA

The latest design show at MoMA features something that we can’t live without.

Installation view of @ (1971), ITC American typewriter medium, at MoMA

Installation view of @ (1971), ITC American typewriter medium, at MoMA

You’d never think that @ was a design invention, but it was created in 1971 by Ray Tomlinson, the inventor of the first email system in the United States. The @ made it into MoMA’s design collection and stars there in the show, Born Out of Necessity.

Tomlinson developed it for ARPAnet, because he thought it would be more efficient than using arcane programming language to tell data messages where to go. MoMA says that there’s not a lot agreement as @’s genesis – some say it goes back to the 6th century (from Latin scribes). Others say it’s from the 16th century (Venetian abbreviation for the “amphora” measurement unit), or Norman French  (for “each at” a particular price). Whatever.

The little symbol began appearing on typewriter keyboards in the 19th century, so it eventually migrated to our computer and iPad keyboards, and that’s where Tomlinson got ahold of it. History was made.

Another design star in the show came from the military budget, too — a Utility ¼-Ton 4 X 4 Jeep. Jeep

You may be surprised to know that Jeeps and MoMA go way back to 1951, when they included one in a design exhibit. Quick assembly, fast part-swapping, and portability (when disassembled) for transport made it a design winner. Although this Jeep is from 1952 (just light modifications over the previous model), MoMA says it’s the best military Jeep ever built anywhere.

The show includes an array of other interesting design innovations triggered by need – like Oxo’s Good Grip handles on kitchen items, new-fangled inflatable life rafts that don’t tip in high waves, collapsible wheelchairs, and hand-cranked radios (originally designed for the Third World, but just as useful here during blackouts and hurricanes).

The show closes today, but the @ and the other stuff will be with us for a long, long time.

Never Too Late to Fake it at The Met

Maurice Guibert’s Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec as Artist and Model (ca. 1890). Gelatin silver print. Source: Philadelphia Museum of Art: Gift of Henry P. Mcllhenny.

Maurice Guibert’s Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec as Artist and Model (ca. 1890). Gelatin silver print. Source: Philadelphia Museum of Art: Gift of Henry P. Mcllhenny.

Even though it’s the last day, the Metropolitan Museum of Art has you covered: they’ve put the entire show, Faking It: Manipulated Photography Before Photoshop on the web and into a free iPad app.

So whether you’re living in New York or not, you can enjoy the wonderful history of how photos have been manipulated since the birth of photography (around the 1840s) until the birth of Photoshop (around the early 1990s). As if you couldn’t guess, this provocative show is sponsored by Adobe.

Who doesn’t get a kick out of double exposures, double portraits, and fake stuff inside the photo? Certainly Montmartre pals Maurice Guibert and Toulouse-Lautrec did. Even the great Steichen used some photo-manipulation to create his iconic portrait of Rodin with The Thinker.

Dirigible Docked on Empire State Building, New York, 1930. This never happened. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Twentieth-Century Photography Fund Fund

Dirigible Docked on Empire State Building, New York, 1930. This never happened. Source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Twentieth-Century Photography Fund Fund

In a nutshell, professionals and amateurs have been fiddling with negatives, creating photomontages, rephotographing images, and retouching since the beginning. So, really, there’s nothing new about all the creativity that goes into today’s digital imagery, except that it’s easier to do on a computer.

One of the first innovations was faking color to make the black-and-white photos in the late 1800s more “real.” The V&A Museum even hired expert photographer-lithographer J.I. Williamson to hand-color the pictures he took of their decorative arts collection.

Another early innovation was taking two (or more) exposures for land and sky, masking out parts of the negative (just like in Photoshop), and printing it all on a single sheet of paper.

And what about the masters of the wacky postcards of the early 1900 Americana that predate the Jackalope?

The Met has posted a brief guide to the themes in the show as well as the full, rich archive of 202 photos that hung on the walls until today. Really a fun treasure trove to explore.

Theatrical Staging Suits Dickens Characters at NYPL

Daria Strokous walks the Fall 2011 runway in Prabal Gurung’s gown, part of a collection inspired by Miss Havisham. Photo: Caroloa Gualnari/GoRunway.com

Daria Strokous walks the Fall 2011 runway in Prabal Gurung’s gown, part of a collection inspired by Miss Havisham. Photo: Caroloa Gualnari/GoRunway.com

This runway model is surely not from a Dickens novel, but her dress was inspired by one of his characters. NYC designer Prabal Gurung, who first read Dickens in his native Nepal, used Great Expectation’s Miss Havisham as his inspiration for his Fall 2011 collection.

Lucky for us, the New York Public Library curators selected this evocative gown for inclusion in their 200th birthday tribute to the beloved author – NYPL’s exhibit Charles Dickens: The Key to Character.

Entering through the dramatic red-swagged doorway, you step back in time to a drawing room loaded with cabinets of curiosities, a crackling fire, a hanging birdcage, books, seashell collections, taxidermy, a zootrope, tiny Doulton porcelains, and Dickens-related treasures from NYPL and other collections, including the infamous cat-paw letter opener.

These worlds within worlds are arranged to shine a light on the over 3,592 characters created by Dickens in his lifetime. Above the fireplace is a reproduction photograph of his little nephew who inspired the character of Tiny Tim. Other ephemera posted near the case with the wooden leg show Warren’s Blacking Warehouse, where Dickens toiled away as a child laborer himself, many years before creating the characters of the Artful Dodger, Fagin, and Oliver Twist. A revealing letter demonstrates why his own father inspired him to create Micawber in David Copperfield.

Miss Havisham illustration by Charles Green (c. 1877) and installation view of the NYPL show

Miss Havisham illustration by Charles Green (c. 1877) and installation view of the NYPL show

See this beautifully designed show, which also delves into the author’s passion for theater and his own performances of particularly dramatic scenes. The décor, the Gurung gown, the 1870 edition of The Mystery of Edwin Drood, the 1867 ticket stubs from the Dickens reading tour, early films of his novels that you watch through peepholes, and photos from recent Broadway productions will have you sliding seamlessly back and forth through the last 200 years to meet truly remarkable characters.

Is David Roentgen the 18th Century Steve Jobs?

David Roentgen’s Game Table (ca. 1780–83). Oak, walnut, veneered with mahogany, maple, stained maple, holly, stained holly; felt; leather, partially tooled and gilded; iron and steel fittings; brass and gilt bronze mounts. Source: Metropolitan Museum, Pfeiffer Fund, 2007.

David Roentgen’s Game Table (ca. 1780–83). Oak, walnut, veneered with mahogany, maple, stained maple, holly, stained holly; felt; leather, partially tooled and gilded; iron and steel fittings; brass and gilt bronze mounts. Source: Metropolitan Museum, Pfeiffer Fund, 2007.

Even if David Roentgen didn’t produce for the mass-market, he certainly seemed to have written Steve’s playbook  — wow them with innovative design, refined surfaces, exacting craftsmanship, playful art, and sophisticated multimedia integration. Oh, and if that’s not enough, why not make it passkey protected and portable, too? Like Steve, David knew how to turn engineering into art and ka-ching.

Experience out-of-the-box design innovation in the closing week of the Metropolitan Museum’s unforgettable show, Extravagant Inventions, Princely Furniture of the Roentgens. The beauty of the marquetry and fittings on the displayed desks, sofas, clocks, commodes, and rolltop desks would be enough, even if they simply occupied a quiet corner of a drawing room or boudoir.

But if an 18th-century king, queen, or royal saw them in action – revealing hidden apps for writing, reading, drawing, music, games, curios, and hiding the desktop – there was no turning back. The mechanical furniture was so desirable that wealthy trend-setters just had to have it (like iPads).

What social-minded gamer could resist Roentgen’s 1780s Game Table if they saw David’s demo?

The desire to own and show off the most up-to-date artistic engineering marvel had royals running for their strongboxes to put down deposits on anything Roentgen could produce. In fact, the Met tells us that the Berlin Secretary Cabinet, the star of the show, is probably the most expensive piece of furniture ever produced. And we can’t even begin to discuss robot Marie Antoinette playing the dulcimer, or the clocks that turn into orchestras.

When the French Revolution put an end to sales at Versailles, Roentgen cut out the curliques, tailored the outer design to a sleeker look, and shifted his retail operations to Russia. Catherine and her court bought the newer stuff by the cartload.

The Met has an entire YouTube playlist devoted to these 18th century wonders, and you really should peruse them all. Get to the show in the final week and see what another style and multimedia-obsessed generation spent their money on.

And lest it slipped your mind, Steve and Woz’s first Apple 1 computer was assembled within a wooden case. Maybe it’s good that David and his engineering/sales team weren’t around to critique it.

Tinsel’s Not Just for Christmas

Alice Knight’s Urn of Flowers with Scene from Ballet Swan Lake. Reverse painting and foil on glass, c. 1940. Source: American Folk Art Museum, gift of Susan and Laurence Lerner.

Alice Knight’s Urn of Flowers with Scene from Ballet Swan Lake. Reverse painting and foil on glass, c. 1940. Source: AFAM, gift of Susan and Laurence Lerner.

Before the Internet, Etsy, TV, and mass media, creative women used foil as a flashy additive to reverse-glass paintings that decorated pre-electric homes. The American Folk Art Museum has seen fit to honor this delightful pastime in Foiled: Tinsel Painting in America.

There’s a prequel to the show focusing on reverse-glass painting to the left of the main gallery that’s chock full of examples of the glimmering media from dozens of anonymous women artists who decorated homes, shops, and gaming tables with the shimmery stuff.

Tinsel painting isn’t seen much today, since it’s so fragile, but when Alice Knight (one of the few known tinsel artists) came of age in the 1880s, she would have seen creations like this tribute to Jenny Lind. In the 1920s, Abby Aldrich Rockefeller acquired some for her folk art collection now enshrined in Colonial Williamsburg.

Artist unknown. Wreath of Flowers with Lithograph of Jenny Lind. Reverse painting and foil on glass with lithograph, c. 1850. Source: American Folk Art Museum, gift of Susan and Laurence Lerner.

Artist unknown. Wreath of Flowers with Lithograph of Jenny Lind. Reverse painting and foil on glass with lithograph, c. 1850. Source: AFAM, gift of Susan and Laurence Lerner.

By 1930, tinsel painting (also known as oriental, crystal, or pearl painting) made its art-world debut in a show at the Newark Museum. Eventually, even New York souvenirs were sporting a little bit of the flash.

Today, the American Folk Art Museum has the largest collection of tinsel paintings in America. Take a look at the show in this short piece produced by WNET for NYC-Arts with the curator:

Alice, who lived past 100 and created works even then, would have loved Etsy.

Cage’s Zen Den at the Academy

Cage's New River Watercolor Series I on parchment paper. Courtesy: Mountain Lake Workshop

Cage’s New River Watercolor Series I on parchment paper. Courtesy: Mountain Lake Workshop

Take one of the most controversial composers of the 20th century, give him some watercolors, drop him at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and leave everything to chance. See what happens.

You’ll see the results at the National Academy Museum’s John Cage: The Sight of Silence show this weekend. Back in 1988, Cage was the artist in residence at the Mountain Lake Workshop in Blacksburg, Virginia. He spent his time making a series of watercolors inspired by his trip to a Zen garden and temple in Kyoto, where he saw stones floating on a field of raked gravel.

Cage, whose lifelong interest in using chance (via the I Ching) to select and structure his musical compositions, decided to apply the same principles to watercolors, drawings, and prints. He customized some large-scale brushes that he could drag across wet paper like rakes, picked up feathers, and collected stones from the New River.

The brush, paper wetting, colors, stones, and actions are all determined by chance to stunning effect. Watch the artist at work and hear him talk about his process here:

Now see the results at the Academy and witness pure Zen.

Celebrity Lace at the Met

EuropeanLace_posterIt was all the rage 100 years ago – who could amass the best collection of antique lace owned by the rich and powerful, and what could you do with it to make a fashion statement?

The Met still has its Gems of European Lace micro-exhibit on display in a lower-level nook for a few more days, right outside of the Ratti Textile Center. (It’s down the stairs on the left side of the tiled medieval Gallery 304 on the first floor.)

The show blends astonishing craftsmanship with an object lesson in conspicuous consumption of the rich and famous of a century ago. It seems that in the late 1800s, wealthy American women tried to outdo one another with lace collections, vying for little masterpieces that might have been owned by European royalty.

Adolf de Meyer’s photo of Rita de Acosta Lydig in Harper’s Bazaar in 1917 (Source: The Met; gift of Mercedes de Acosta)

Adolf de Meyer’s photo of Rita de Acosta Lydig in Harper’s Bazaar in 1917 (Source: The Met; gift of Mercedes de Acosta)

One gem is the bobbin-made lace cravat end (featured above), allegedly commissioned by Austrian empress Maria Therese and later given to her daughter, Marie Antoinette. The Met cites this provenance, but will only say that it’s “maybe” true.

In the race by society ladies to amass the best lace collections, international lace-dealers made out like bandits. The frenzy only benefits us today, since so many patrons ultimately bequeathed their collections to the Metropolitan and the Brooklyn Museum.

By the early 20th century, the super-wealthy were also acquiring antique lace and asking for it to be refashioned into stylish haute couture. The example on display in Gems is a Callot Soers original made of 16th-century-style lace for the style icon Rita de Acosta Lydig, known for her celebrity-filled New York salons; lace-covered accessories and bedecked couture; and having her portraits done by Rodin, Sargent, and anyone who was anyone at the turn of the century.

Rita's 16th c. style lace remade by Callot Soers in the 1920s (Brooklyn Collection at the Met)

Rita’s 16th c. style lace remade by Callot Soers in the 1920s (Brooklyn Collection at the Met)

Check out the Met site for close-ups of masterworks of needle and bobbin.