Take Me Out to the Ballpark -- A Tour of Wrigley Field

Our guide Clay 

You might be surprised to learn that my favorite experience during my recent trip to Chicago wasn't looking at art or sitting in a dark theater. Instead, I'm still pumped up over our tour of Wrigley Field, the iconic baseball stadium that's been home to the Chicago Cubs since 1916. What a slice of history. Read on for a few of the highlights. 

--The team became known as the "Cubs" in 1902 because of the youth and inexperience of its players. Prior to that, the team was called the "White Stockings" because -- you guessed it -- they wore white socks. Their next moniker was the "Orphans" after their manager was fired. "Cubs" became the official team name in 1907.

--The expression "he's out in left field" comes from the fact that an insane asylum was located just outside the left field wall of the ballpark. Who knew?

--The scoreboard at Wrigley is shaped like a mast because team owner William Wrigley, Jr. (of chewing gum fame) liked to sail. The score is still manually operated by folks in a room with no A/C. The highest temperature recorded there is 117 degrees. 

--The Cubs held out for daytime only baseball until 1988. (Clay's t-shirt said "No lights at Wrigley Field" on the front and "Support Day Baseball" on the back.) The first night game -- against the Phillies -- ended up being rained out. There's some sort of poetic justice there.

--The term "Bleacher Bums" comes from the days before night games. Television viewers noticed the same guys in the bleachers day in and day out. Clearly, they had no official place of business to be. So "Beacher Bums" they became. The guys started wearing hardhats to indicate that being at the field and cheering their team on was in fact their job. For the theater geeks out there, the play "Beacher Bums" was collaboratively written by members of Chicago's Organic Theatre, including Joe Mantagna and Dennis Franz. The show has received mixed reviews, but I'd still see it. 

With Suzanne in the visitng team's dugout

--The tour included stops at the visiting team's dugout and locker room. It was very cool to sit in the same spots as the likes of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. The dynamic duo played for the Yankees (of course). In addition to regular season games, the Yankees took on the Cubs in the 1932 World Series. The Yankees swept the Series. Ouch. It's worth noting as well that Wrigley is the only remaining ballpark where Jackie Robinson played. 

Back to Chicago today. I'm sure you noticed Suzanne is doing an imitation of a player chewing tobacco. It's not something you see these days since the MLB banned smokeless tobacco products in dugouts in 2016. Sunflower seeds seem to have taken chaw's place. Seeing someone spit shells instead of tobacco is only marginally less gross, but it is healthier.

In the press box! 

--I'll leave you with our visit to what was unsurprisingly my favorite stop -- the press box. It was the home of the iconic Harry Caray for 16 seasons. I say "iconic" even though I'd never heard of him. From what I've read, though, it would have been fun to hear him announce a game. He was known for saying "Holy cow!" when the Cubs made a good play. I like it.

Caray also unintentionally began a tradition that everyone who's been to a game is familiar with -- singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the seventh inning stretch. There was of course an actual organ playing the tune in the day, and Caray inadvertently left his microphone on one day when he sang the song. A ritual was born. 

And so concludes my report of our visit to Wrigley Stadium. I cannot recommend it more highly if you find yourself in Chicago, whether you're a baseball fan or not. And now it's time to go cheer on the Rays from the comfort of my couch. It's not the same as being there, but the snacks are both better and more affordable. 

"From the Heart to the Hands: Dolce & Gabbana" at ICA Miami

"Handmade" gallery

To say I'm not a fashionista would be a vast understatement. My preferred clothing choice has grown to be jeans and a t-shirt. Still,  I'm always excited to see a good fashion exhibit. The Dolce & Gabbano exhibit now on at ICA Miami is that and much more. It is a stunning look at the contributions of these designers to the world of haute couture.

The exhibit spans 13 immersive rooms, each with a different theme. The gowns and other clothing in this image are from the "Handmade" gallery. The detail in these works  --  created in collaboration with Italian artisans -- is mindboggling. It's not hard to imagine a weathered Italian seamstress bent over one of these gowns with needle and thread in hand.

The description of the attire was as over-the-top as the fashion. Take, for instance, what the wall card had to say about the works in this section. "Each collaboration represents a stop in Dolce & Gabbana's 'Grand Tour' of the peninsula: a contemporary journey reminiscent of that taken by young European nobles in the 18th century who came to Italy in search of its artistic and scenic treasures." Lofty language indeed. It would be interesting to dig into the historical significance of the designs and the materials, often hand-painted silks embellished with elaborate embroidery. No such knowledge was required, though, to appreciate their beauty. 

By Anh Duong

Each room had a unique design that complemented the fashion in some way. The "Handmade" gallery featured the artwork of Anh Duong, a French artist, actress and model known for her self-portraits. As a model who "walked" in the very first Dolce and Gabbano runway show, Duong was the perfect choice to participate in this exhibit. I was as captivated by her works as by the couture. 

In this painting, Duong has recreated Manet's "Luncheon on the Grass," although not altogether faithfully. Gabbana has taken the place of the gentleman resting on one arm. His hand is outstretched to Duong, perhaps in appreciation of her unclothed beauty (a bit ironic for a fashion exhibit). A top-hatted Dolce sits by Duong's side and joins her in gazing at the viewer. The gentlemen are decked out to the nines, presumably in clothing they designed. I love it. If you do too, you can click here to see more of Duong's work. Now back to the exhibit proper. 

Menswear got plenty of attention in the show. You might expect that the men's clothing would be a bit more subtle than the designs to be worn by women. You would be wrong. As you can see here, the jackets to be worn by men about town are just as creatively adorned. Not surprisingly, I was drawn to the jackets featuring reproductions of famous works of art. Take, for instance, this sampling from the Alta Sartoria Milano Collection seen on the runway in 2020. (Note: The "runway" in this case was at the Pinocoteca Milano, a museum known for its Renaissance art collection. For a video of that introduction to this collection, click here. I am gobsmacked.) 

Renaissance art is not exactly in my wheelhouse, but the painting on this jacket rang some distant bells. Ah, yes, it's Leonardo's adrogynous "Saint John the Baptist" from 1513-1516. My question, of course, is why this work and other Renaissance paintings made their way onto D&G couture. There's much commentary on this, but Flavia Lefebrvre D'Ovidio, an Old Masters painting specialist at Christie's London, perhaps summed it up best. "[These works] pay homage to the past whilst transmitting a sense of glamour, richness and opulence." I find the fact that someone from Christie's is commenting on these works fascinating. For more on this aspect of these designs -- and some great photos from the runway -- click here. 

I'll leave you with some garments with yet another feel. The Alta Sartoria and Alta Moda collections featuring the couture shown here debuted on a runway at the Archeological Park of Nora in Sardinia. Click here to see a video of what that show looked like. The setting is another huge "wow" and features the models walking through "Nora Mirage," a site-specific installation by light artist Phillip K. Smith that was commissioned for the show. 

The clothing is, well, interesting. As is apparently typical for D&G, they chose the setting for the introduction of this line before designing the clothing. The wall card relating to this section of the exhibit talks about the "ancestral magic" of Sardinia with its prehistoric art, archaeological remains and folk rituals, all of which are incorporated into the stories behind this line of couture. 

I was particularly interested in the coat the male figure is wearing and learned that it evokes the mastruca. Happily, the wall card went on to explain. "[The] mastruca is the traditional...wool cloak once worn by shepherds and still worn today during the ritual of the Mamuthones, masked figures who parade through the Mamoiada carnival. This danced procession...stages the eternal tension between good and evil, between winter and summer." Holy moly. 

"From the Heart to the Hands: Dolce & Gabbana" continues at ICA Miami through June 14th. It is a knock out show for both fashion and art lovers. Don't miss it if you're in the area. For more information, click here. And to see more of the exhibit, click here. 

Philadelphia's Magic Gardens

Maggie and me with our tour guide 

Our visit to Philadelphia's Magic Gardens was by far the most unique art experience Maggie and I had during our recent trip to the City of Brotherly Love. Imagine walking into a 3,000 square foot space with mosaics everywhere you look. I am not exaggerating. Artist Isaiah Zagar mosaicked nearly every square inch of his art studio, inside and out. And he didn't stop there. He also created a fully mosaicked bi-level sculpture garden. The result is an interesting -- if somewhat overwhelming -- art environment.

Zagar didn't set out to create a tourist destination. He just wanted to make art, but he was running out of studio space. He had noticed a nearby lot that was clearly not being used given the amount of trash littering the site. He built a fence to secure the property (despite not owning it) and, as the website says, "spent the next 14 years excavating tunnels and grottos, sculpting multi-layered walls, and tiling and grouting the...space." Once he got started with his endeavor, his neighbors participated in the project (if you consider throwing objects they no longer wanted over the wall for him to use in his creation "participating"). 

Eight years later, the existence of what would become the Magic Gardens was threatened when the owner decided to sell the property. Zagar couldn't afford the $300,000 purchase price and resigned himself to leaving his art behind and moving on. After all, isn't the joy in the making? The community had become attached to Zagar's work, though, and rallied behind the artist to save what he had created. The Philadelphia Magic Gardens was incorporated as a non-profit, and the funds were raised to preserve this unique space. 

You might wonder how Zagar started creating mosaics. It turns out that the art form that became his passion began as a type of therapy. At just 29 years old, the young artist attempted to commit suicide. During his subsequent hospitalization, he was diagnosed as suffering from bipolar disorder and depression. 

When Zagar arrived back home, his wife Julia knew something had to change. She also knew he needed to keep making art. She looked around their house and noted that the walls were empty. She suggested he might want to try his hands at mosaics. He took to it like a fish to water.

Being an artist, Zagar didn't head over to Home Depot to buy the tiles he used in his art. He made most of them himself, painting and firing the ceramics only to break them into pieces. Sometimes he painted figures into his work, most often of himself or Julia. A careful observer can also find names and quotes in his work. "Julia" of course appears many times. But you might also come upon full sentences such as "art is the center of the real world" and "remember walking around in a work of fiction." (While I didn't see the latter expression, it is quite perfect.) 

Zagar's art sometimes incorporates found objects, like the bottles you can see in this photo. Most of the objects were made by the artist, though. I especially liked my new friend in the little alcove who seems to reference the couple's time in Mexico. And if you look carefully, you can see a small figure in the top left of this photo. Wth his arms outstretched to viewers, he appears to be saying, "So, what do you think?" 

In addition to the Magic Gardens, Zagar created more than 250 mosaic murals over his lifetime, most of which can be found in Philadelphia. He also turned five other spaces, including the couple's home, into art environments. Passionate about his work to the end, Zagar continued to create mosaics until just three days before his death this past February. He was 86 years old. That is someone with a true creative spirit. For more about Zagar and his Magic Gardens, click here.

With that, my musings about Maggie's and my trip to Philadelphia are done. Whew! We packed a lot of art into our time there. Maybe on my next visit I'll check out some history. Hmm. Probably not. Art is so much more fun. 

Philadelphia's Got (More) Art!

 Copy of Rodin's "The Kiss" by Henry Greber

Rumor has it that Philadelphia has a lot of history, but the Liberty Bell wasn't on the agenda for Maggie's and my girlfriend getaway. Instead, we saw art and more art, from street murals to works that have sustained the test of time. Pour a cup of coffee and join me on our journey. 

I had no idea that Philadelphia is home to a museum featuring Rodin's beautiful sculptures. It turns out that Philly was the first U.S. city to display works by the sculptor. In 1876, Rodin sent eight works to the Centennial Exposition. He won no medals, and his work essentially went unnoticed. It makes me wonder what else was on display (but not enough to research the question -- lol). 

The Museum includes many of the sculptures for which Rodin is best known, although some were not actually created by the artist. This version of "The Kiss," for instance, is a copy carved by Henry Greber in 1929. Still, it's a sculpture I've always, well, loved.  

As you may know (I didn't), "The Kiss" depicts Francesca and Paolo, a doomed pair of adulterers from Dante's "Inferno. Hopefully they enjoyed this rapturous embrace because Francesca's husband (who also happened to be Paolo's brother) stabbed them to death when he found them locking lips. You can add to the list of things that I didn't know the fact that Rodin called the work "a large sculpted knick-knack following the usual story." And that was before the image became emblazened on tshirts and mugs and the like. I'm just going to ignore this information and continue to be enchanted by the work. For more about "The Kiss," click here.

"Bad Boy for Life" by Noah Davis (2007)

The Philadelphia Museum of Art is now home to a retrospective of the work of Noah Davis. Despite passing away at age 32 after a battle with cancer, Davis made notable contributions to the contemporary art world. I'm happy to have been introduced to his work and his legacy. 

First, his art. Davis aspired to represent the people around him. Real life, that is (although the Jerry Springer show was one of his inspirations, and I'm not sure that qualifies as real life). The indistinct -- somewhat "smeared" -- way he painted the faces of his characters in "Bad Boy for Life" is representative of his style. It gives his works a kind of dreaminess. I love the expression on the mother's face. "Oh well, she seems to be saying. You gotta do what you gotta do." The boy, too, seems resigned to receiving his punishment. It's just a part of everyday life. 

Davis' legacy also includes the Underground Museum in LA that he opened with his artist wife Karon Davis. The idea was to bring contemporary art into a Black LA neighborhood so its residents could see what was happening in the art world. The exhibit "Imitation of Wealth" featured recreations of works by well-known artists such as Jeff Koons' "Hoover Vaccuums." I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when people saw these works. For more on Davis, click here. 

"High Yella" by Betye Saar (2002)

The Museum also had an exhibit on entitled "In Her View: Highlights from the Keith and Jim Straw Collection." The Straws began collecting the work of female artists in the 1970s, an unusual focus at the time. My favorite work in the exhibit was "High Yella" by Betye Saar.

"High Yella" is an assemblage that includes fabric, plastic ornaments and a framed gelatin silver print. The texture of the work, which you can hopefully see in this image, came from Sayre's use of painted cast pulp. The photograph is of an unidentified Black woman who is light-skinned and serves as the heart of the piece. 

Saar's intention behind this work is to highlight colorism, a discriminatory system pursuant to which lighter skinned Blacks are treated more favorably than those whose skin is a darker shade. It's an issue Saar addresses frequently in her art through the use of materials such as yellowed vintage photographs, darkened paper and aged fabrics. I love this quote about using her art to highlight societal issues. "To me the trick is to seduce the viewer. If you can get the viewer to look at a work of art, then you might be able to give them some sort of message." Consider me seduced. For a short interview with the artist (then 95 -- she's now approaching 100) , click here. 

Up next is my final blog about our trip to Philly and will introduce you to the Magic Gardens and the work of Isaiah Zagar. It's an incredible site that cannot be captured with a single image. Stay tuned!

Philadelphia's Got Art!

"Declaration" by Titus Kaphar
and Reginald Dwayne Betts

With more than 4,000 murals across the city, Philadelphia is the mural capital of the world.  No, I did not add an extra zero to that number by mistake. This is a city that takes its public art seriously. And here's the cool thing -- most of the art was financed by Mural Arts Philadelphia, a public-private partnership founded in 1986. Its budget runs between $11MM and $15MM per year, with public funding making up approximately a third of that amount. Wow. Not surprisingly, taking a mural tour was at the top of my list of things to do during my recent visit. I can check learning about 12 of the 4,000 murals off my list -- lol. 

One of the things that struck me about many of the murals is how large they are. As the saying goes, size matters. "Declaration" by artist Titus Kaphar and poet Reginald Dwayne Betts, for instance, stands eight stories tall. It makes the message of this work all the more powerful. 

The mural includes a portion of the Declaration of Independence that's been heavily redacted. The redaction is, of course, what the mural is all about. You probably recall from your civics classes that the Declaration of Independence stated that "all men are created equal." Problem number one with this language is that "men" was interpreted to mean only men, and women didn't gain the right to vote until well more than a century later. Problem number two, and the point of the mural, is the contradiction between this language and the scope of the Constitution, enacted 20 years later. Per the Constitution, each enslaved African-American was counted as three-fifths of a person when determining a state's representation in Congress. Not exactly equality among men. 

And here's something cool about this work and the Mural Arts program. It was developed by Kaphar and Betts in connection with a Mural Arts' Reimagining Reentry Fellowship. Many of the people who worked on the mural were from the Mural Arts Guild Program, a reentry program for men and women recently out of prison. "Declaration" is a huge "wow" in every respect. 

"Untitled" by Amy Sherald (2019)

We also visited a mural designed by Amy Sherald, the artist best known for painting Michelle Obama's official portrait. The image is that of Najee S., a participant in the Murals Arts education program. The intention is for viewers to see Najee not as an individual but as a representative Black body taking up public space (six stories of public space to be exact). Who is deserving of being the subject of a work of art and how seeing a portrait such as this impacts viewers are two of the basic questions Sherald's work asks. 

It of course makes sense that Najee spent time with Sherald in connection with the creation of the mural. But Najee wasn't the only Mural Arts education participant to meet the internationally known artist. A larger contingent visited Sherald's studio where they had the chance to talk with the artist and explore her studio. Sherald apparently has costumes on hand to dress her subjects, so they also got to play dress up. What an opportunity!  As a side note, our tour guide shared that Sherald's involvement in the creation of the mural was limited to creating the design. She did apparently paint the buttons on the coat, but she wasn't out there on a scaffolding for days on end with a paintbrush in hand. Still, everyone on the tour was excited to see this work. And if you're interested in seeing more murals honoring women, click here. 

"ContraFuerte" by Migaul Antonio Horn (2021)

In addition to its Mural Arts program, Philadelphia enacted its Percent for Art programs in 1959. The ordinance requires an amount equal to at least one percent of the cost of construction projects developed on City land or funded by the City be spent for site-specific public art. The programs were established during Mayor Richardson Dilworth's tenure as part of his "modern golden age" vision of improving the city's infrastructure and public spaces. 

Miguel Antonio Horn's "ContraFuerte" is one of the 600+ works around the city created in connection with these programs. Most people interpret the figures in the work as working together to hold the ramp into a city parking garage in place. It clearly takes a lot of effort, as any collaborative endeavor does.

Horn is a bit more oblique about his intention. "It's a group struggle," he said in this interview, "But there are also individuals within that...The way people relate to that connects with their own internal struggles and experiences." I found the sculpture a bit creepy. Art is personal. 

What a treat it was to be in a city that has made public art such an integral part of its design. If you visit, take the time to look up and appreciate what's been created. For more on the Mural Arts program, click here. And for more on the Percent for Art program, click here. 

A Visit to the Barnes Foundation

A wall at the Barnes Foundation

A visit to the Barnes Foundation is always a treat. If you're not familiar with the museum, the collection showcases the artwork amassed by Albert C. Barnes over the course of his lifetime. I don't use the word "amass" lightly. His collection contains more than 4,000 artworks and includes 181 Renoirs, 69 Cezannes and 59 Matisses. The obvious question (other than how one person can own so much world class art) is how to display thousands of paintings. Rather than mounting just a few works in the traditional manner and storing the rest for rotation, Barnes created ensembles on each wall. The works are arranged with an eye to color and line and space rather than a particular artist or period. The effect is quite glorious, if a bit overwhelming. 

"Absorbing Art" by Aristodimos Kaldis (1941)

The museum was originally located in Barnes' home in Merion, Pennsylvania. The move to downtown Philadelphia was extremely controversial. It had been Barnes' intention for the collection to remain in situ in Merion in perpetuity. There were issues with the location, though, that put the museum on the brink of financial collapse. Most significantly, it was difficult for people to get there. Fewer visitors meant fewer dollars, of course, and a collection of that magnitude is expensive to maintain. 

After years of legal battles, the collection was moved to its new home. While the structure is quite different from a house, the artwork is displayed in rooms the exact size and shape of those in Barnes' home. As a result, visitors see the art in the configurations he envisioned. 

For this visit, I decided to focus on the work of artists with whom I was not familiar. Not to belittle Cezanne or Renoir or other well known artists, but why not take the opportunity to be introduced to someone new? "Absorbing Art" by Aristodimos Kaldis is one example. I like the idea of an art lover in a museum looking at a painting of an art lover in a museum. Kind of meta, right? More importantly, I responded to the bright colors and somewhat primitive style of the work. If you do too, you can find some info about Kaldis by clicking here. I was particularly interested to learn that Kaldis was the first living American artist whose work Barnes purchased. Quite an honor. 

I sadly have a tendency to get caught up in chronicling what I'm seeing rather than really looking and appreciating. That's especially true in an exhibit this size. So I entered the galleries with my iPhone at the ready. But there was an issue -- the Barnes doesn't have wall cards with the names of the works and the artists who created them. This of course makes sense given the context. People generally don't label the artwork in their homes, and the idea was to preserve Barnes' collection exactly in the manner it was displayed. I could have fought people over one of the laminated list of works in each room, but the museum has developed a different approach to address this issue, albeit one that was a bit anxiety producing.

"Married Life" by Roger de la Fresnaye (1913)

Thanks to the magic of modern technology, when you point your camera at a painting, a message is conveyed to the Barnes that you want an image of that artwork. You are assured that you will receive an email after you've left the museum with images of each of the works you wanted to remember along with the info that would typically be on a wall card. Great, although going along with this approach felt a bit like taking a trust fall.   

I breathed a sigh of relief when my email from the Barnes arrived shortly after we left. Whew! What if I had to actually just rely on my memory of the experience? (This is a philosophical question beyond the scope of this blog - lol.) My friend Maggie's email didn't arrive until the next morning, though, causing a good deal of consternation on her part. Technology is great until it doesn't work. 

Now back to the art. Both "Married Life" and "David and Goliath" were paintings that caught my attention, but I had no idea who had created them. I now know that the artists were Roger de la Fresnaye and Angelo Pinto, respectively. Both were new names to me. You won't be surprised to learn that de la Fresnaye was part of the Cubist movement. Just look at the angularity of the bodies of the couple featured in his work. De la Fresnaye moved away from Cubism later in his career to depict people in a more realistic manner. That work included a series of self-portraits chronicling the progression of his tuberculosis caused by his exposure to toxic gases during WWI. For more on de la Fresnaye, click here.

"David and Goliath" by Angelo Pinto (1942) 

Angelo Pinto is an artist whose story is intimately linked with that of Albert Barnes. Angelo, along with two of his brothers, took art classes at the Barnes Foundation in the late 1920s. Barnes took a shining to the young artists and became their supporter and, eventually, their patron. Angelo became even more connected with Barnes when he joined the Foundation as an art instructor. Eventually, Barnes purchased four paintings by Albert and his brothers, securing their reputation in the art world. For more on this connection, click here.

Pinto's "David and Goliath" is a reverse painting, a technique I hadn't heard of before. Pinto painted this image on the back of a transparent support, creating the detail and highlights before moving on to the background and shading. This technique is more protective of the artwork than a painting created in the more traditional manner, but it sounds like a pretty complicated solution to a potential problem. 

With that, I'll leave you with a strong recommendation not to miss the Barnes if you're in the Philadelphia area. It's a very special place. For an armchair visit, click here. Happy exploring! 

Exploring the Everglades

It's been ten years and one month since I spent time in the Everglades (unless you count driving on Alligator Alley). You might wonder how I can remember when I last visited with such clarity. The aswer is easy -- there's a blog for that! Yes, I've been at this writing thing for a long time. Somewhat surprisingly there weren't any repeat activities from my earlier adventure. The Everglades is a big place. 

Oscar and I started off with a kayak trip on the Turner River Paddling Trail in Ochopee. I was a little surprised when he said he'd booked a double kayak. I'm all for time together, but it could have been dicey. Fortunately, I've kayaked enough to feel comfortable with a paddle in my hands. The fact that we've had so little rain also worked in my favor. The water level was a full five inches lower than usual. So, had worse come to worst, we could have gotten out and walked and only gotten our calves wet. It also meant that I could literally dig in to move us forward on the very rare occasions I got us a bit, well, stuck. 

There was only one other couple on the trip, so it was easy to stay close to our guide. He shared all kinds of interesting information with us about our environment (which I immediately forgot as soon as we were on terra firma). What did stick with me was the number of gators in those waters. Just one look at this guy's smile tells you how friendly he was. Then again, he might have been smiling because he was contemplating how happy his next meal was going to make him... 

Here's a fun fact about gators that I hope I'll never experience firsthand. They're fast! They can swim up to 20 mph when they really need to get somewhere (like to a person who's fallen out of her kayak). Okay, that's speedy but not totally mindboggling. They are, after all, water animals. What seems crazy is that they can run up to 15 mph on their stubby little legs. Sure, they might only be able to move at that speed for about 30 feet, but I wouldn't want to test that limit. 

Kayaking of course isn't the only activity you can engage in in the Everglades. We also visited Fakahatchee Strand Preserve and walked the Big Cypress Bend Boardwalk. The walkway took us from a very nice Visitors' Center (indoor plumbing!) to a gator hole where we watched an anhinga valiantly try to swallow a fish. Periodically he would take a break and smash his prey on the ground. I don't know if this was out of frustration or to confirm that his lunch was dead. In any event, eating his prey wasn't a skill he had yet mastered, and after about ten minutes we left him to it. I listened for a cheer from the other onlookers when the bird finally got his meal to no avail. 

My favorite tree hands down was what I dubbed the hugging tree. Oscar called it the "Alien" tree, which turned out to be more accurate. My Google search for the "crazy looking tree on the Big Cypress Bend Boardwalk" revealed that the tree is a strangler fig and is often referred to as "The Claw." Strangler figs, as you may know, got their name because the fig tree grows from the top down, wrapping itself around its host (in this case a cypress tree) until it eventually suffocates it. Nature can be brutal. 

And now for some art. (You knew it was coming.) No trip to the area is complete without a visit to Clyde Butcher's studio. The exterior display was a bit less impactful than it might have been because Historic Spanish Point hosted an outdoor exhibit of Butcher's work a couple of years back. Still, the works were striking. It was fun to see the sites Butcher chose to post on the markers, from "Gators 346 meters" to "Ocala National Forest 329 miles" to "Amazon 2383 miles." 

In case you're wondering, the photograph is a closeup of St. Vincent Island Driftwood. The most likely spot to find the gnarled wood is St. Vincent Island, a National Wildlife Refuge on a barrier island near Apalachicola. The island's shores are often referred to as a "Boneyard Beach" because of the bleached color of the driftwood. I'd like to visit sometime. 

Butcher's studio features his large format black and white photographs. They are gorgeous, but I'd seen many of them before in various exhibits. So what I particularly enjoyed was the timeline -- complete with photographs of course -- of Butcher's life. 

Butcher got his first camera when he was just eight years old. His family enjoyed visiting national parks, and he got his start shooting the great outdoors there. Despite his fascination with photography, Butcher decided to pursue architecture as his career. It was just more practical. He combined the two fields in his senior thesis on the use of photography in the creation of architectural design. His resume as an architect includes working on the plans for the Transamerica Building in San Francisco. It wasn't until Butcher was in his 40s that he visited Big Cypress National Preserve with his camera in hand. The rest, as they say, is history. 

With that, our adventure in the Everglades came to an end. I highly recommend the area if you're interested in getting up close and personal with nature. Let me know if you're heading there for a swamp walk. It's an outing that's still on my bucket list. 

"Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line" at the Boca Raton Museum of Art

The Boca Raton Museum of Art is now home to "Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line." I was in the area for the holidays, so I obviously had to go. Mucha's work is not only beautiful; it is the poster child for the Art Nouveau movement. I mean that literally. Mucha's 1894 poster for Gismonda -- starring none other than Sarah Bernhardt -- was entirely different than the typical poster of the era. 

The Gismonda poster was long and narrow rather than the size of, well, poster board. Its colors were subtle instead of screaming "look at me." Its focus was an image rather than text. It's hard today to think of these changes as being radical, and yet they were. 

Then there's the depiction of Bernhardt as Gismonda. Despite the image being on a poster, it is undeniably Art (capital "A" intended). Most notable for viewers today is the inclusion of the "halo" that became Mucha's signature element. 

What, you might wonder, was the response to Mucha's work? Bernhardt loved it and contracted with the artist to create posters, sets and costumes for her projects for the next six years. To see these posters, click here. (Sadly, I can't find a link for the costumes or sets.) The public also loved his work. In fact, Mucha's posters had a habit of disappearing from the walls on which they had been hung and turning up in people's homes. Cue the plug for the Art Deco poster exhibit now on display at Sarasota Art Museum. 

It was a treat to see so many of Mucha's works in one place. But the Mucha Foundation had more in mind when creating this exhibit than merely showcasing the artist's work. The Foundation also wanted to highlight how Mucha's style influenced later generations of artists, especially graphic designers of the 1960s and '70s working in a psychedelic style. I particularly liked this pairing of Mucha's poster for JOB, a French manufacturer of cigarette rolling papers, and Stanley Mouse and Alton Kelley's tour poster for the Jim Kweskin Jug Band. (I've never heard of them either.) 

The standard wall card for this work notes that both images are classic Mucha because of the woman's abundant flowing locks. Got it. More interesting was the card with "stage cues for families" and "maestro's note for grown-ups." Kids were invited to follow a strand of the woman's hair and think about the shape it makes and the sound it evokes. Adults were encouraged to ask their young companions how the shapes in the work impacted the poster's mood. This is the second exhibit I've seen recently with family-friendly wall cards. I hope it's a trend. 

Another fun component of the exhibit was the inclusion of photographs from Mucha's private collection. This trio of works was showcased on a stand-alone wall and was my favorite vignette in the exhibit. The woman in this photo can be seen in the "Precious Stones: Emerald" lithograph. (To see the entire Precious Stone series, click here.) 

Then there's the Japanese cloisonne vase that's in the case. Mucha kept this vase in his studio, which he referred to as "The Cathedral of Beauty." I'm a bit unclear as to the relationship between this vase and the one in the photo. The designs look to be the same, but there's obviously a significant size differential. In any event, as beautiful as the vase is, it didn't make it into the lithograph. Instead, if you look carefully at the image in the link, you'll see that the woman is calmly resting her head on a snake. I get that a snake has the sinuous lines Mucha favored, but would she really be so relaxed???  

Visitors also had the opportunity to become a Mucha work of art themselves. Well, kinda sorta. I couldn't resist donning the multi-strand pearl necklace and floral headband and striking a pose. Happily, Oscar was willing to slip on the banadana provided for male "models" and join me for the shot. (Thanks, TJ, for serving as photographer!) It was fun and another great way to get people engaged with the exhibit. 

"Timeless Mucha: The Magic of Line" continues at the Boca Museum of Art through May 3rd. Don't miss it if you're in the area. Also on display are a cool assortment of photographs by Eduardo Chacon and highlights from the Museum's collection. For more information, click here. 

A Visit to the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Maritime Museum

St. Augustine Lighthouse circa 1874

The Lighthouse & Maritime Museum was my favorite of the historic sites we visited in St. Augustine. Who doesn't love a good lighthouse? 

St. Augustine's initial watchtower was built by the Spanish in the 1500s and stood more or less in this same spot. The first U.S. lighthouse in this location (again, more or less) dates back to 1824. When the structure began succumbing to the sea in the 1870s, the current lighthouse was built a bit further ashore. It stands 165 feet tall, and its beacon can be seen as far as 24 nautical miles away. (As you probably know, a nautical mile is a bit longer than a land mile due to the curvature of the earth.) These facts, while interesting enough, are a bit dry. What was fun about our visit was the experiential component.  

Not surprisingly, the only way to get to the top of the lighthouse is to climb. The Museum has made this journey -- 219  steps -- a bit less painful by featuring great graphics with fun facts along the way. The info that made the biggest impression on me was that you burn 24 calories going up all those steps and 11 calories coming down. What???!!! That seems like an impossibly small number. Not to mention, why give us this discouraging factoid in the midst of the climb? The only reason I can think of is providing visitors with full disclosure before they feel entitled to have dessert with dinner. Now back to some history. 

The lighthouse wasn't electrified until 1936. Until then, the lighthouse keepers had to climb the steps multiple times each night with fuel to feed the oil lamp that lit the lighthouse's beacon. Visitors had the opportunity to lift a bucket to get a sense of what that task would have been like. I could barely get it off the ground. In my defense, it weighed 30 pounds (the equivalent of the bucket filled with oil), but I'm still hoping my trainer doesn't read this post. The bottom line is that the lighthouse keeper had to be pretty darn strong. 

It's worth noting that there were two female lighthouse keepers who undertook this task along with the other duties involved in keeping the lighthouse operating. Maria Andreu assumed these responsibilities in 1859 after her husband fell to his death painting the lighthouse tower. She was the second Hispanic-American to serve in the Coast Guard, the branch of the Armed Services with responsibility for the lighthouse. (Her husband was the first.) 

The second woman to hold this position was Kate Harn. She inherited the role in 1889 after her husband died of tuberculosis. Harn held the job for six months, the time necessary for her husband's pension to vest. Harn juggled this job with raising the couple's five daughters who still lived at home. (Their sixth daughter was already out in the world.) Color me impressed.

The Fresnel Lens

When you arrive at the topmost landing of the lighthouse, you are eye level with the Fourth-Order Fresnel lens that serves as the lighthouse's beacon. (The "order" refers to its size and strength, with lower numbers being more powerful.) Each angle and curve of the lens has been precisely measured to magnify the reach of the light. 

The 20+ mile reach of the beam wasn't always a good thing. During WWII the Germans targeted Allied ships illuminated by the light. After a few months the powers that be figured out the problem and instituted a blackout. The strength of the lighthouse beam was lowered from the equivalent of a 1,000 watt bulb to a 50 watt bulb. Four miles of inland lights were dimmed as well. "The Second Happy Time" of the Germans came to an end. 

Taking in the view with Oscar

When you get to the top of the lighthouse, you're rewarded with a lovely view of Matanzas Bay, the Atlantic and downtown St. Augustine. After taking the requisite photos, you descend down the 219 steps to exit the building. Did I mention before that it's a narrow spiral staircase? I actually found going up easier than going down. 

While the Lighthouse is the draw, there's more to explore at the site. You can tour the watchkeeper's house (which was surprisingly grand). You can watch traditional boatmaking in action compliments of the folks at Heritage Boatworks. (The wooden boats made me think of my days in Nova Scotia.) And there's an education center with interactive exhibits to amuse even the youngest visitor. It's all very well done. On my next visit to St. Augustine, I'll go for one of the Ghost Tours. You get to climb the lighthouse using only a glow stick for illumination. What could go wrong? 

For more on the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Maritime Museum, click here. It's a must-see/do if you're in the area. In the meantime, may your holidays be as bright as the beam of the St. Augustine Lighthouse. 

Five Sites to See in St. Augustine

Lightner Museum 

Despite having grown up in Florida, I somehow had never made it to St. Augustine until now. Settled in 1565 by the Spanish, it's the oldest city in the United States. That's a lot of history to take in! Read on to learn about five sites we took in during our getaway. 

1) Shockingly (not), the impetus for the trip was not a history lesson but to see the holiday lights. St. Augustine does Christmas in a big way, stringing more than 3,000,000 lights on buildings and palm trees and hedges throughout the downtown area. As we say in my family, nothing succeeds like excess. People can enjoy the Night of Lights (which miraculously lasts almost two months) on foot or by trolley or carriage. We opted for a trolley tour and were rewarded with some groan inducing holiday-themed jokes, hot cider and a sugar cookie. I recommend it! 

57th Columbia Light Roadster High Wheel (1889(

2) The Lightner Museum (shown above) was built as a hotel by Henry Flagler in 1888. The ground floor of the hotel featured a large swimming pool filled with filtered sulfur water where male guests could get in a few laps. (There was a separate pool for the women.) Today the area is home to the Museum's restaurant. For some pics of then and now, click here. 

Known for its fine and decorative 19th c. art collection, the Museum is home to many, many dusty objects. Interesting enough, but not exactly my cup of tea. I did, however, enjoy the vintage bicycle collection from the Keith Pariani collection. The text for this bike noted that "The prospective rider devoted weeks of effort and endured frequent spills acquiring the correct technique for mounting the vehicle." Um, yeah. 

Cheers! 

3) No visit to St. Augustine is complete without a stop at the Fountain of Youth. As you probably know, Ponce de Leon arrived on the west coast of Florida back in 1513. He had been told by Native Americans that restorative waters existed near Bimini that gave those who partook of them a newfound spring in their step. When his fleet ran low on fresh drinking water, Ponce had an idea. Why not go for a two-fer and replenish their store of water from the rejuvenating springs? Ponce's navigation skills were a bit off, though, and the ships landed near what is now St. Augustine instead of the Bahamas. 

Today, the legend is perpetuated at the Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park. We spent a fun morning there that included taking a sip of the sulfuric spring water. You can taste every one of the 30+ minerals in it. I can't say that I feel (or look) any younger, but a girl can dream. If you go, don't miss the chance to fire a faux cannon. For more on the Fountain of Youth, click here.  

Fort Matanzas

4) My biggest historical takeaway from the trip was compliments of a guide on our visit to Fort Matanzas, the only Spanish watchtower in the United States. Did you know that cannonfire could reach up to three miles away? It is from this fun fact that the now defunct three mile limit to a country's territorial waters was derived. Sure, it was hard to have an accurate aim at that distance, but 18 pounds of iron coming at your wooden vessel would get your attention. 

As far as forts go, this is a cute one. Fort Matanzas was home to between seven and 15 men. Even at the minimum number of residents, the quarters would have been tight. The soldiers must have been trim because the opening to the lookout area was none too roomy. Of course people are bigger these days.

Fort Matanzas was owned by the Spanish until 1821, when the United States took control. It was never used in military operations again. For more on the site, click here.

Cannon at Castillo de San Marcos

5) Castillo de San Marcos is a more sizable fort that protected the citizens of St. Augustine (then under the control of Spain) from both conflicts and natural disasters. After a sequence of nine wooden forts at this site failed to protect St. Augustine and its fleet from attack, the Spaniards wisened up and used coquina as their building material. Coquina is a type of stone made more or less out of compressed seashells. In addition to being fireproof, the stone could absorb cannonfire rather than succumb to it. (The fact that the walls are 12 feet thick was also helpful.) 

Both the location and the design of the Castillo were carefully chosen. Situated on the winding, narrow channel of the Matanzas River, neither pirates (!) nor warships could turn broadside to deploy their weapons. Clever. Then there's the Castillo itself, which is shaped like a five-pointed star. The configuration forced would-be invaders into position where they would get caught in a crossfire. 

The Castillo also featured a deep, wide ditch surrounding the walls of the structure. Yes, it was a moat, but not of the variety you might envision. Other than a period in the 1900s when the National Park Service flooded the ditch, it was a dry moat. Keeping the moat water-free was a practical decision. When the city was under attack, both its citizens and their livestock evacuated to the Castillo. The people harbored inside while the animals lived and grazed in the moat. In case you're concerned, the banks of the moat and the surrounding landscape protected the animals from attack. They were, after all, the residents' primary food source. For more on the Castillo de San Marcos, click here. 

Whew. That's a lot of history!  I'm going to let my brain rest for a few days before sharing my favorite historical site we visited -- the St. Augustine Lighthouse & Historical Museum. Stay tuned!

Exploring UF's Harn Museum of Art

"Nude Woman Drying Herself" by Edgar Degas (1884-86)

The Harn Museum of Art is currently home to an exhibit featuring French modern art created between 1850 and 1950. That's a broad swath of time that allows for works in the styles of Impressionism to Surrealism. It's a treat for visitors to explore. Even better, though, is the opportunity it gives students to spend time with works by artists covered in their classes. I have to admit to being a bit jealous. 

This large scale painting greeted us as we entered the exhibit. When you consider the work, the scene is recognizable as having been created by Degas. But what's the story with the palette? Was Edgar engaging in a bit of experimentation? Nope. "Nude Woman Drying Herself" is an unfinished work. You can see the hard lines Degas drew to define the primary images. He then used paint thinned with turpentine to indicate the texture and tone of the vibrant colors to be added. Unfortunately, there wasn't an explanation as to why he didn't finish this lovely work. In any event, I enjoyed it just the way it is.

"The End of the Working Day" (detail) by Jules Breton (1886-87)

"The End of the Working Day" by Jules Breton is flat out gorgeous.This detail from the painting particularly caught my eye. Although the women are heading home from a day spent harvesting potatoes, their work is not quite done. You can feel their fatigue, but they also have a heroic quality about them. They will do what's necessary to survive, no matter how hard. 

The subject matter of "The End of the Working Day" is an example of the impact the democratic Revolution of 1848 had on artists. The Revolution was triggered in part by widespread crop failures that made the ongoing shift to an industrial economy even more difficult for agrarian workers. The wall card quoted Breton on the subject matter. He said that after the Revolution, artists showed "a deeper interest in the life of the street and the field. The tastes and the feelings of the poor were taken into account, and art conferred honors upon them formerly reserved for the gods and the great." 

To see the "The End of the Working Day" in its entirety, click here. The way Breton captured the light is remarkable.

"W.S. Davenport" by Kees van Dongen (1925)

Then there was this somewhat curious portrait of W.S. Davenport by Kees van Dongen. What the heck are the blue-green brushstrokes around Dr. Davenport's eyes (and, though harder to see in this picture, his chin)? I had to laugh when I learned that the doctor's specialty was facial reconstructive surgery. This portrait looks like he's been marked up for a surgery of his own. (Note: Despite the wit -- intended or not -- in this portrait, Dr. Davenport's work was no laughing matter. He received a knighthood in the Legion of Honor for the surgical skills he employed during World War I.)  

The insertion by van Dongen of this bit of color made a bit more sense once I learned he was a leader of the Fauvism movement. The Fauves were known for their use of vibrant, unnatural colors. French art critic Louis Vauxcelles is credited with naming the artistic movement. The story goes that Vauxcelles was at the 1905 Salon d'Automne and was struck by the inclusion of a traditional sculpture in the midst of wildly colored paintings by the likes of Matisse and Derain and von Dongen. "It's like a Donatello in the midst of fauves (wild beasts)," Vauxcelles commented to Matisse. The name stuck. All in all, von Dongen was actually quite restrained when creating this portrait. 

For more on "French Moderns: Monet to Matisse, 1850-1950," click here. I neglected to mention above that all of the works in the show are on loan from the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Kudos to the Museum for sharing its collection. 

"Trailer Park Garden" by Steven Dohanas (1951)

The Harn had a couple of other exhibits on as well, including one entitled "Florida Impressions." There were a couple of Highwaymen paintings and some Ringling-related scenes, but I preferred "Trailer Park Garden" by Stevan Dohanos. The painting captures a slice of Americana from Bradenton circa 1951. It makes me smile. 

You probably won't be surprised to learn that Dohanos was a big fan of the work of Norman Rockwell. So much so, in fact, that in his younger days he fsaticiously copied some of Rockwell's Saturday Night Post covers and sold them to friends and family. Little did he know that he would one day become friends with the artist whose work he was reproducing. I'd be interested to know if Dohanas confessed his little moneymaking enterprise to Rockwell once they'd become chums.

Like Rockwell, Dohanas became best known for his covers of the Post -- 123 in all. "Trailer Park Garden" graced the cover on February 2, 1952. But the two men didn't just work in parallel. Dohanas and Rockwell were among the founders of the Learning from the Masters: Famous Artists School. The school became the most popular art correspondence program following the end of World War II, with enrollment one year of more than 60,000 students. Wow! Each of the 12 founders of the school initially interacted directly with the students who had signed up to take his course. As the program grew in popularity, the original educators' personal involvement became impractical. Other instructors were hired, and the students began learning from books instead of from the artists. 

The Famous Artists School operated until 2016, and its archives are now owned by the Norman Rockwell Museum. For more on the School, click here. And to see more of Dohanas' work, click here. 

All in all, it was a most satisfying outing. The moral of the story of this post and my previous missive is not to overlook college art museums. For those of us in Sarasota, that includes our own Ringling College. For info on what's on display there now, click here. Perhaps I'll see you in the galleries.