Gaydar - An Ellsworth Kelly Exhibition

 One of a great number of things I love about my life in Chicago is having a membership to the Art Institute and access to all the treasures it houses. I love having the ability to hop on a bus, my senior fare making it almost a free ride, and shortly be surrounded by some of the greatest art in the world. 

Aside from from displaying it's own vast and impressive holdings it also hosts special exhibitions, some large, some small, the give me the opportunity to experience work I might not otherwise get a chance to see. A number of years ago an unfinished Michelangelo sculpture was exhibited. The front was fairly complete, the back raw and rough, chiseling of the stone just begun. I felt as if I was treated to a complete primer on how the master created his works. Some of the works in these special exhibitions come from private collections; which has always set up a scenario in my head of a dowager inquiring of her maid "Did you dust the Van Gogh? What about the Monet in the 3rd floor guest bath?"; meaning, that unless you are considerably well heeled, I am definitely NOKD to such people, it is, again, a once in a lifetime opportunity to view them. For a period of time the museum had 2 large scale modern works on display, a Rothko and a Basquiat. They were on loan from a man while he completed his house in Florida. After it was finished he took them back. Some people are so selfish. 

So, on a day when I had not much to do, I went to see an exhibition of works on paper by Ellsworth Kelly. The Art Institute has one of his works prominently displayed in the hallway of the American Wing. I have never cared for it. I find it trite and pretentious. However, I learned long ago a single work does not give one an understanding of an artist's vision so I decided to give the exhibition a look. 

In the first gallery I was immediately impressed with the work I saw from the early part of his career. I was particularly enraptured by a close to life size self portrait of the artist as a young man. The second gallery contained sketches of predominately handsome young men. My Gaydar has never been the best but it suddenly went off. There was a subtle, sensual masculinity about the way the subjects were rendered. Handsome faces, rounded biceps bared by tee shirts with slightly too short sleeves. I took out my phone and googled Mr. Kelly. He was indeed gay, unabashedly so apparently. For several years he lived with fellow artist Robert Indiana. And, as if there were any doubt left regarding the sexual orientation of Mr. Kelly, in the third galley we come to the sketches of a bevy of shirtless, hunky, exceedingly handsome men. I almost felt as if I had been transported to a gay bar circa 1977.

His widower Jack Shears, who he was with for a number of decades, runs the Ellsworth Kelly Foundation, which loaned most of the works on display.  In 2023, in honor of what would have been Kelly's 100th birthday, the foundation made a number of donations, as well as gifts of works on paper, to several museums. The Art Institute received 25, many of which were on featured in the exhibition.

Before I left the exhibit I texted my longtime friend, who just recently retired from his position of doing installation at the museum, asking if he had seen it. He had and was as impressed as I. He went on to mention that he had once met Kelly when he had visited the Art Institute and described him as "super nice" with "no pretentions". I texted back 'I hate you."

Santa Fe 2023

 As I laid by the pool enjoying the September warmth on our last day I realized that if I lived here I would probably take on the hue of an acorn. I soaked it up knowing that I was returning to a Midwest fall. The colors can be glorious but as fall moves into winter I know I would be yearning for this come March or April.

We noticed a commitment to solar energy as we drove through the desert. In sunny climes this only makes sense. New Mexico is known as a fairly progressive, albeit somewhat poor, state. That being said, by the end of our stay I was about adobed out. It was difficult in town to discern what was  what was historical and what was not. The Governor's Palace is 17th century, the Art Museum early 20th. Yet both look as if they are contemporaries of one another. The Art Museum is built in the Pueblo Revival style, an architectural movement I was unaware of prior to this trip. In attempting to pay homage to the past the city, on occasion, succumbs to what borders on monotony. 

I have great respect for the ancient dwellings and public buildings we witnessed, in the city as well as Taos. It was illuminating to see the straw, that gave structural integrity to the venerable structures, mixed with the mud used to build them. To see the rough hewn wood beams, a simple yet effective way of holding up ceilings as well as the floors of multistory structures such as the 1000 year old Taos Pueblos. It was an impressive way of building with what was on hand and  I was intrigued with how effective those methods were at shielding people from the sometimes inhospitable climate. 

Traditions were evident. In many public buildings there were almost identical wooden buttresses at the ends of the ceiling  beams. Churches were simple as apposed to the gaudy showplaces of other house of worship I have visited.

 We witnessed the drop in temperature inside of the shops housed in the adobe homes in Taos Pueblo. We appreciated the large outdoor ovens, also created with the simple and somewhat primative yet effective adobe. 

The city of Santa Fe holds it's fair share of charm. But I am spoiled. I live in a living museum of architecture which spans the late 19th, all of the 20th and the first quarter of the 21st century. Sometimes I need a reminder of how fortunate I am. 

A Sunday in Santa Fe 2023

 As we sit down to breakfast church Sunday morning bells rang out across the plaza calling the faithful to worship. Despite their religious connotations, I have very mixed feelings about organized as well as disorganized, religion. it is a sound I have always loved. It brought to mind a moment the previous summer of bells pealing as I walked barefoot across the sand of my neighborhood beach in Chicago. Somehow the sound replenishes a portion of my soul depleted by the rigors of everyday life. 

After breakfast we wandered around a bit. I finally found a turquoise ring I liked that was within my budget. I had lost hope. Even the pieces spread on blankets on the sidewalks under the arcades being sold by Native Americans were pricy, what was in the stores was untouchable for one of our means.

We had a reservation for the Georgia O'Keefe museum later in the afternoon. We phoned to see if they could accommodate us earlier. They said yes so we walked over. Reservations are advised due to the museums relatively small size. 

Although the artist is not a personal favorite of mine I have always liked her pallet. It was interesting to see how her surroundings, some the places we had visited over the past few days, inspired her work. Her blues were reflections of the brilliant, sunny skies of the southwest. There is a certain freshness to the air in Santa Fe, perhaps because of it's high altitude. Her browns seemed inspired by the earth and the ubiquitous adobe pueblo style buildings. Her style ranged from representational to abstract to symbolic. In one gallery there is  a cloudscape that seems almost a study of a massive work that hangs in Chicago's Art Institute. My favorite piece was a striking nighttime cityscape from her period when she lived in New York City. I'm a city boy at heart, asphalt runs in my veins. 

There is an interesting concept to the museum. There are two galleries at the back where some of her personal possessions are on display. Clothing, kitchen wares, some of her art supplies. In one vitrine is a pin with her initials designed by Alexander Calder and a wide brimmed black hat she can often be seen wearing in photographs. These galleries serve to humanize the artist. It gives insight into the entirety of her life of which art was only a part.

 My frustration with the institution stemmed from the museum apparently hold a large amount of work yet it's small size only allows a sampling of the holdings to be shown at any one time. Despite this it does serve as a monument to a uniquely American artist.

Governors Palace and The Santa Fe Museum of Art September 2023

 On our first day we purchased a Culture Pass which gave us entry into several Santa Fe Museums.  We showered, dressed and were on our way until we stepped outside and realized that our summer shorts and sandals motif was inappropriate for the weather which had turned sharply colder due to cloud cover. Running back to the room we changed to more suitable attire and, once again, were on our way. We joked about how stereotypically gay our fashion change was.

After breakfast we took a stroll around the plaza looking at art, jewelry, crafts and western style clothing that was out of our price range before heading to the Governors Place. Although the young man at the desk was pleasant the palace itself was a disappointment. There were only 2 small, rather mundane exhibits open as much of the venerable structure, it dates from 1610, was closed due to renovations.

Undaunted we moved on to the Santa Fe Museum of Art. The museum is an example of early 20th century Pueblo Revival architecture. It is often difficult to tell that which is relatively modern from that which is centuries old in the city. Upstairs is a nice collection of Southwestern art and furniture. On the first floor was an exhibit of contemporary glass. I was rather proud of myself when I saw a piece across the floor and thought "that looks like Chihuly." It was indeed a piece by the renown glass artist. I've been fortunate enough to see two of his site specific exhibitions over the years. 

Possessing a sometimes annoyingly curious mind, it is always a thrill to me to find out about something or someone I was previously unaware of. There was an exhibition called An American in Paris. It had nothing to do with the movie. It focused on the work of an artist named Donald Beauregard. He studied the impressionists in Paris and was deeply influenced by them. He, to some degree unabashedly, appropriated their style outright yet manifested a mastery of technique. He died of cancer at the age of 29. Before leaving we visited the museum's auditorium which has murals designed by him but completed by others due to his untimely death. His style at that point showed an Art Nouveau influence which melded beautifully with the dark grace of the serene room. I pondered that, had he lived, would his mastery of technique have overtaken his mimicry of style and transitioned into an important and distinct voice.  

I try not to think about it very much because it is rather depressing but I wonder what we have lost that might have been had death not intervened. Then again, maybe some artists and performers had more talent then a human body can survive. Were they not so forceful that they may have brought themselves to an early end they would not have been them. 

The Petroglyph National Monument September 2023

 W returned to the outskirts of Albuquerque to visit the Petroglyph National Monument. The rock carvings are estimated to be 400 to 700 years old. They are etched into volcanic rock that was created by prehistoric fissure eruptions. The area is considered sacred by the native people that originally inhabited the area. Today that sacred area sits across from a subdivision of the stucco tract houses that are ubiquitous in the southwestern U.S. 

Our first stop was the visitors center where we were provided with maps of the various trails that wind through the monument and directions to their starting points. I look up and see the type of  hawk gliding above the parking lot whose beautiful black and white wingspan have been recreated countless times over the centuries in art, textiles, basketry, pottery and jewelry. 

We decided on the Piedras Marcadas Canyon trail where the petroglyphs are the most closely concentrated. We  laughed at the directions to the trail site which told us to turn left at the Sonic fast food outlet. The parking lot for the trailhead is located behind the Valvoline oil change station. I find it kind of sad that so many of the nation's natural treasures are almost only accessible by private car. 

Leaving Valvoline behind us we hit the trail. After a short trek we began to see the carvings etched into the tumble of rocks. In spots they travel far up the black stone walls. We jokingly refer to them as 700 year old graffiti. The meanings of the symbols are lost to time. Some may only hold meaning to the one that carved them centuries ago. One in particular seems to tell a story but what that story is is anyone's guess.

Along the way I hear a couple remark on the Chicago Fire Department tee shirt my husband is wearing. A brief conversation with them reveals that they are from the north west suburbs of Chicago. 

The sun is bright and hot. One man is wearing a safari hat with sun shield veils on its sides, a long sleeve shirt and shorts. His calves are dark brown. I thought about what his tanline must look like. There is the well known farmer tan, I don't know if there is a word for a calf tan.

Taos, The Gorge Bridge September 0223

 Our final stop in Taos was the Gorge Bridge. Several people during my pre trip research had mentioned the George Bridge as a must see. Online photos show a bridge, nothing more. However, deciding locals would be likely to know what's what and it being so highly recommended, we decided to place it on our list. 

It is not the bridge, it is what it spans. Far, far below the Rio Grande flows. It is rather shallow this late in the season but bare rock on either bank give an indication of what is is like at it's highest level. Sunlight plays on the steep, rugged stone walls. We were once again amazed and humbled at the thought of the millennia it has taken for the river to wear away the earth and create this spectacular sight. 

There are places on the bridge where it juts out to afford the visitor a better look at the breathtaking manifestation of the power of water, time and nature. In a move simultaneously heartbreaking, humanizing and macabre, there are terminals at each overlook giving those considering ending their lives by jumping over the side of the bridge a last opportunity to contact the help they may need to change their decision.  If a button is pushed they are able to speak to someone about what has brought them to that moment. 

In these tumultuous, politically and socially divided and benighted times it gives me hope that we have not yet completely divorced ourselves from compassion, kindness and caring for others.

Taos Pueblo September 2023

 We drove through the town of Taos. From the car we saw blocks of adobe buildings containing art galleries and shops. It is a place for people above our pay grade to while away time surrounded by history. 

We headed to the Taos Pueblo. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. A small river runs between multistory adobe structures, some estimated at 1000 to 1200 years old. They have been continuously inhabited by the same families, the dwellings are passed down generation to generation. Some of the dwellings have been turned into shops selling crafts created by the local Native American people. Several signs remind visitors that this is a place where people live and to  show respect to their homes. 

We realized the effectiveness of adobe as a building material when we commented to one gentleman in his small shop how cool it was compared to the much warmer temperatures outside. He said that in the summer months, we were there in September, the difference was even more noticeable. All the structures we were in had small skylights. I believe these were originally the escape for the smoke from the fires that helped keep warm them in the winter. 

As we walked through the area we were awed by the thought of the history this settlement had witnessed. In the U.S. this type of antiquity is virtually nonexistent. There are some ancient ruins left behind by early people who, for reasons unknown, moved on, but this special place has managed, somehow to survive. 

Rancho de Taos September 2023

Nature from Albuquerque to Santa Fe utilizes a limited palette. The desert stretches out as a sand colored mass broken up by dark green shrubs and occasional small stands of bright yellow flowers. As one travels north the mountains that loom over Santa Fe add a different shade of green to the landscape. Further north, as one continues to Taos, the wind has begun to carve the rocks into otherworldly shapes. As the road starts to follow the Rio Grande a new, rich, verdant strip is added. Thick foliage clings to the edge of the water which gives it life. 

We stop at Rancho de Taos, a collection of 80 buildings that are centuries old.  The woman at a gift shop we wandered into tells us the building we are in is 300 years old. Thick posts lining the ceiling hold up the roof. She points out where the original floorboards, still intact. have been patched with metal in spots to repair damage done by mice over the boards considerable life span. The structures are grouped around a plaza. In the center of it stands a 200 year old adobe church dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi. In the adobe walls of the church one can still see bits of straw that was mixed with mud to form the thick walls. They glisten in the bright sunlight. The interior of the church, as well as the others we have seen on this trip, is spare, almost austere. It is a place to worship and meditate not impress and intimidate.

 

Museum Hill Santa Fe September 2023

 My first introduction to Santa Fe's Museum Hill was when it was used as a site for an episode of Antiques Roadshow. There were 2 museums located there as well as a restaurant with lovely views of the mountains in the distance. During our visit large scale, brightly colored sculptures of fanciful animals adorned the spacious plaza between the buildings.

The Museum of International Folk Art houses an impressive collection of  art forms created by a  number of different cultures from all over the world, as the museum's name implies. There are crafts, glorious textile creations and costumes worn when celebrating various festivals. One gallery is devoted to the dress of the Inuit people who live in the forbidding cold of the artic region. The highlight is a spectacular array of dolls and miniature tableaus. Small carved figures crowd around handcrafted diminutive buildings inspired by architecture from a wide variety of locales. Tiny people crowd around and line up to enter dollhouse like Russian palaces and Mexican cathedrals. There is a riverfront scene with boats, on wheels, this particular piece being a rather elaborate toy, sailing down a painted "river" that runs through a miniature village.  There are dolls and vignettes everywhere. If you are not charmed by the surroundings I would have to assume that you have no soul.

The Museum of Indian Arts and Culture, I found it odd that in this area of the country they did not use the term Native American, has a nice collection, some pieces dating back centuries, some quite contemporary. I got a comment on Facebook that someone was good friends with one of the artists whose work is on display there. Yet, somehow,  I did not find it engrossing. The exhibits seemed to lack focus. Perhaps had I visited it first before the Folk Art Museum I would have seen it in a different light.

According to Santa Fe tourism websites there are 4 museums on the hill but only 2 were in operation during our time there. A brief online search didn't provide any information on the 2 missing. Perhaps, like a number of other businesses and institutions, they were victims of the pandemic. The world constantly reinvents itself, our resilience is evidenced by the fact that time hasn't knocked us completely to the mat. We always beat the 10 count.

Our First Taste of Santa Fe September 2023

 After a breakfast on Santa Fe's plaza so bountiful that even I, a big eater, could not finish all of it, we began to wander the city. We marveled at the age of our surroundings, particularly notable for a U.S. city. Santa Fe is the oldest capital in the country.

I was impressed by the simple beauty of the church of St. Frances of Assisi which placed faith above the building where it was celebrated. We were also impressed with the professionalism with which a raging street person was ejected from the narthex. We visited the Loretto Chapel with it's miracle spiral staircase leading up to the choir loft, breathtaking in it's simple majesty. Our last stop was the oldest church in the nation, the San Miguel Mission. All three felt spiritual without the garish trappings I've seen in many of the cathedrals I've had the good fortune to visit, whose ostentation is ironic considering the vow of poverty taken by the church's leaders and servants. 

We strolled through the streets, occasionally stepping into shops which held an almost bewildering assortment of Native American jewelry and crafts, then headed off to the institutions on top of Museum Hill.

Madrid New Mexico September 2023

 The cheerful and friendly gentleman at the counter when we picked up our rental car suggested that on the way to Santa Fe we might want to stop in Madrid, once a small coal mining town, now reborn as a strip of galleries and funky eateries. GPS leading us we headed out through a landscape of brush studded hills. 

Nearing Madrid one can see remnants of it's past. Piles of coal dot the hills. Where the mines broke through the sand colored epidermal layer of earth brilliant colors have been revealed evidencing millions of years of geological history. 

The town features a single road of venerable repurposed structures populated with a  mix of  bikers, aging hippies and young hipsters. Behind the bar and restaurant, where we ate outside in the desert sunshine, is a small stage where various bands play against a backdrop of an antique locomotive and coal car, which harkens back to the town's past. An ancient pick up truck bears a hand painted sign which directs locals and visitors alike to the town's CBD establishment. We assumed that, looking at the people that lived there, it must do a brisk business. 

After lunch we continued to our hotel just outside the city and our balcony room that overlooked it. Travel weary we collapsed to sleep off our wanderlust dust in preparation for the start of our New Mexico adventure the next day. 

Airport Musings September 2023

 The concourses of airports, at least major ones, are like rivers composed of people, a constantly moving scene of the many varieties of humanity. The tall and morbidly obese priest in his black cossack, a huge wooden cross around his oversized neck, business people, the young men, they do seem to be uniformly young men, pushing infirm passengers to their gates in wheelchairs. There are the casually dressed, seeking comfort from the ever increasing rigors of air travel. Uniformed crew members walk by pulling their roller board suitcases behind them. At one point I worked in a jewelry kiosk in the airport. Whenever the store was slow there was always something to look at. 

I become increasingly aware of my age. 75 to 80 percent of the people flowing past appear to be younger than I. It doesn't sadden me, there is no feeling of melancholy, the day before a coworker, several decades my junior, told me he was envious that I came of age in a less chaotic era. A time when cooperation had been overrun by competition. A time before rocks had been overturned allowing the hate and division long hidden underneath to slither out and take root. 

I look back in sorrow and anger at what we have become and fear what may lie ahead.

 

Do You Know the Way to Santa Fe? September 2023

The sun rises later during this time of the year. The clouds in the sky change from orange to pink as we head to the airport. Airline personnel are pleasant, TSA employees less so, some downright hostile. 2 men push in front of me as I am placing my items on the conveyor belt, their rudeness sets my teeth on edge. It is still fairly early in the morning, I am not at my best at that hour. 

As we drove through the forest preserve on the way to the airport I noticed the leaves there were changing color earlier than the ones in our lakeside neighborhood. Over the next weeks I looked forward to the trees entertaining us with a beautiful and vibrant curtain call prior to their winter naps.  

We are on our way to Santa Fe, a bucket list item of mine. For a number of reasons we didn't feel comfortable going abroad this year so decided to stay domestic. Aside from the historic city itself, the oldest state capitol in the country, there several nearby National Monuments as well as the ancient, by U.S. standards, town of Taos. 

I sat by the gate in the terminal hoping that predicated storms would not delay us on our way to our adventure. We soon heard the beautiful words, "Now boarding group 5".

Be Careful What You Wish For

 It used to bother me a little. Corporations, that gave little if any visible support to the gay community 11 months out of the year, would, during the month of June, shamelessly use our hard fought battle for equality and acceptance as a marketing tool. Media would be awash in rainbows. But this year is different. Nary a rainbow to be seen. One major retailer has made the decision to move it's Pride section to secondary locations on their sales floors out of concern for the safety of it's employees and protection of their property. They have reacted, understandably so, to boycotts, personal confrontations and anger. Fear has forced the corporate turtles to take safe haven within their shells. 

How did it get here? Why is an angry and hate filled minority allowed to have an oversized voice in our country today regarding both public and private policy?

Over the last several years I have sometimes thought about how, almost fortunate, I am to be the age I am. I think about how I am watching the second act and somehow comforted that, after intermission, I will not be around or too senile to notice the third. 

Perhaps it will not be as bad as I fear. We saw hate and fear in the 50's turn into the transformative period of the 60's. But this was before social media. Please do not point out the hypocrisy and irony of making this statement on a blog, I am aware of both. When anger, hate and insults can be thrown out from a keyboard protected by the barrier of a glass screen it can sometimes have the effect, not unlike alcohol, of loosening inhibitions. 

In the meantime I live my life in my, tolerant, diverse, deep blue city with it's embarrassing wealth of culture hoping that the younger generations will eventually wake up, rise up, educate themselves and demand and begin to take responsibility for their great future that could be. 

Ode to Mexico

 First there is the food, fresh and plentiful. The breakfast buffet at my hotel included eggs, beans, potatoes, 2 days roasted, one day mashed, one morning fashioned into pancakes as delicate as butterfly wings and mounds of fresh fruit, including papaya, a rare treat. A salad in a restaurant I revisited from a previous trip served me a deep bowl of crisp greens heaped with chicken, there was the side salad one evening of shredded lettuce and seemingly impossibly sweet onions topped with a tangy vinaigrette. Vegetable medleys tasted as if the zucchini, carrots, broccoli and green beans had been plucked from a garden just minutes before being steamed to perfection. There was a breakfast so bountiful, served on the wrap around porch of a historic mansion, that I was unable to finish it, unheard of for me. There were the lovely lunches and breakfasts taken in the lush garden of the hotel in Ajijic , with it's lake view, where a caged scarlet macaw shouts out it's name "Paco" as a calico cat with beautiful markings wanders about the greenery and lounges in the sun.  

There is the architecture, late 19th century facades line the streets of downtown Guadalajara. In the historic Colonia Americana district the mansions display an eclectic mix of colonial, Victorian and baroque influences, sometimes all three in a single building. There are the churches, some centuries old, sprinkled around the city like jewels, waiting to be discovered by chance as you walk the streets. Murals in bright colors fill the walls of the buildings of Ajijic, the ancient stone pyramids of Teuchitlan hold secrets thousands of years old.

And then the people, charming and graceful. The guide to the pyramids and I had a long conversation about tequila as we returned to the city. The patrons at the bar in Ajijic ensured I felt welcome among them. The two students manning the front desk at the Museo de las Artes, sweet, intelligent, slightly flirtatious, with an underlying innocence unique to the young. The, without exception, courteous and smiling wait staff and UBER and taxi drivers. The tiny boy zig zagging across a square playing with a bubble machine I encountered as I returned to my hotel after dinner on my final night in Guadalajara. 

It is a place of history, charm and beauty, waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.