Full Body Art-Making

I was fortunate to spend a few hours, two days in a row, at the Art Institute of Chicago. The first day was a planned excursion with friends to view the John Marin Watercolor exhibit, a painter I had never heard of before. I was shocked that I hadn't known who he was, since he was a contemporary of Georgia L"Keefe and showed at Steiglitz's gallery, and is described as the most "celebrated American Artist" of his day.  He began with realism and exploded into expressionism. What a wonderful revelation! I was lucky enough to be able to go back the next day to spend more time.

Can't you feel the energy in his work, the vibrant energetic push and pull of brushstrokes, scratching the surface, dragging, scraping, drawing? This was full body art-making, not tidy, neat or tight. Even in his earlier etchings, which generally require some tightness in execution, his work is beautifully loose and free. He was conducting color, dancing or sculpting on that paper, using all means  necessary to put down on paper how he felt about what he saw. Watercolor is a tricky medium, very difficult to control. Marin was a well-trained artist, though he had not studied watercolor techniques. With no preconceived limitations, he was free to explore, and into another territory he went.

When I saw the painting above, it instantly reminded me of this photograph that Chris took of me many years ago. When I walked out of that show, I felt like dancing. Of course, anyone who knows me knows this isn't all THAT unusual. But, in an extraordinary way, the paintings put me INTO my body. 


Now, I wasn't actually going to start dancing in the middle of the Art Institute by myself, although I REALLY wanted to. At the exit / entrance of the show, there were such glorious peaceful standing buddhas. In front of them, I took their positions like a student would mimick a teacher. They embodied the solidity and grace of simply standing.  Mountain Pose in Yoga.

On either side of the staircase were seated figures, one bejeweled, glorious and tall, one leaning over. I danced these, too, in a quiet sort of way.  I began to live the art, to feel it enter my body, and as I continued through the museum, looking at areas I haven't gone into in years, I felt the thrill of discovery. Below are some of my favorite  "Don't fuck with me" sculptures.

From the moment we're born we try to decifer what each minute change in expression means. Most expressions are really a mixture of emotions. I fell in love with the faces on these sculptures.

And check out this guy, he's a real guy... a funeral portrait from 2nd century Egypt. It's not a generic "man," its a real actual portrait. Don't you feel him staring out through the centuries? And, this simple gorgeous sculpture, a marvel of elegance and understated perfection. And then, this absolutely amazing movement of "Gentle, come with me into the night." Wow.

The images below just blew me away. The black and ochre pieces are from about 300 BC and are so incredibly graceful and detailed, with gorgeous delicate lines. Those horses sure are running. Could those people standing between the columns BE any more relaxed and perfect? And, I'm pretty sure the woman on the left is holding a birthday cake! The blue stucco is from the 1st century, and is so decorative and elegant I can hardly stand it.

Just a few more pictures of things that I adored. The most amazing funky modern bright Orange Teakettle from ancient China and a Porcelain Monkey Band! Yes, a Monkey Band.

So, all this Art has me thinking about those cave paintings I talked about in my last blog.  Archeologists are always talking about Prehistoric Art having some Ritual or Spiritual reason for existing.  I'm not so sure. I think there have always been Artists among us. Some people just HAVE to hunt. Some are moved to dance, and some just have to draw. I think people have always made art simply to express themselves because it's enjoyable and because they could. From the time humans picked up a piece of flint or Charcoal, it is something that every culture has always done. Making art is what binds us all together as human.