Boy's Club

I never became a regular at any of the nightclubs in New York City, but I did try to go to as many as I could at least once; in terms of the decor, Area in Tribeca, was the most memorable.  I'll never forget the animal theme night which included the display of a caged owl.  An outraged Audrey filed a complaint with the ASPCA but contemporary artists treated Area like a boy's club.  Look no further than this 1982 invitation for evidence.  What an assemblage of established and emerging mostly male talent!

 

Lévy Gorvy Dayan celebrates the scene with "Downtown/Uptown: New York in the Eighties." I've seen several shows at the gallery but none were as popular as this seemed to be.  Kenny Scharf appropriated Hanna Barbera while Jean-Michel Basquiat paid homage to the "New Queen of the Art Scene." 

The fact that both Basquiat and Keith Haring died young--neither lived past the age of 31--has greatly increased their marketability.  They were firing on all cylinders when they created these untitled works.

1982

1984

Andy Warhol painted Basquiat

1984

. . . and he took this sweet Polaroid of Haring with his DJ boyfriend, Juan Dubose.  They met at the New St. Mark's Baths before the New York City Department of Health closed it down to prevent the spread of HIV, which killed both men. 

Robert Mapplethorpe took this portrait of Warhol in 1987.  By early 1990, all five men were dead.

I paid less attention to the work of their contemporaries whose reputations I would venture to say haven't fared as well, although each remains alive and well.

"Aborigine Painting" by Julian Schnabel (1980)

"Name" by Francesco Clemente (1983)

"King Kong" by David Salle (1983)

"The Pizza Eater" by Eric Fischl (1982)

"Fisherman Golfer" by Jeff Koons (1986)

"generic black and white #4" by Haim Steinbach (1987)

This sensual portrait by Clemente introduced me to an unfamiliar, biracial scenester from Far Rockway who gave up dentistry to walk the runway for Wilhelmina before becoming a graffiti artist.

Rammellzee (1982-87)

Rammellzee is credited with melding hip hop culture with the avant garde.  Now that's what I call an artistic journey.

Crystal Bridges

We arrived in Bentonville, headquarters of Walmart, during rush hour.  After checking into our hotel and enjoying a pour of Menage a Trois and some trail mix, we joined Alice Walton at Crystal Bridges.  It's the first American art museum built since the one we saw in Fort Worth.

Silver Tree by Roxy Paine

Who better than an icon to greet us?

"Rosie the Riveter" by Norman Rockwell

Even museums in Arkansas are committed to greater representation.

"Ten Potawatomi Chiefs" by George  Winter (ca 1837)

"Florida  Mexicana" by Alfred Ramos Martinez (ca 1936)

Art on a shoe-string budget. Thom can relate to that!😀

"We the People (black version)" by Nari Ward  (2015)

Literally.

Selena had a gallery of her own.  Latina or Latinx?  Definitely the former!

This painting looked familiar.  But it wasn't until I heard a guard claim that "it used to hang in the basement of the New York Public Library."  Not true.  It was on public display when I worked there in the late 70s and early 80s.  In a controversial move, the trustees "de-accessioned" it for a cool $35 million.  That's the most that Crystal Bridges ever has paid for a painting.  Cast-off art!

It began to dawn on me that most of America's greatest art --or at least that which is already recognized as such--is already hanging in museums or owned by private collectors. Crystal Bridges, which opened only a decade ago, is at an extreme disadvantage, at least in terms of paintings and sculpture created before the 21st century.

Wild Turkey  Cock, Hen & Young by John James Audubon (1826)

"Rooster" by Gustav A. Dentzel (ca 1897) 

"Two Women" by George Bellows (1924)

Guess where this used to be?  A hotel in Denver!

Dandelion by Harry Bertoia (1961)

That's not to say there's nothing of interest.  What may once have been undervalued may now be in vogue.

"The Garbage Man" by John Biggers (1944)

The Pines has been around even longer than I have!  Although not much.

"Fences" by Paul Cadmus (1946)

Self Portrait by Paul Cadmus (1935)

According to the Times, White folk don't cure tobacco any longer.

"Tobacco Sorters" by Thomas Hart Benton (1942-1944)

I wasn't surprised that a Dale Chihuly exhibit had attracted more people to Crystal Bridges than any other.

"Azure Icicle Chandelier" by Dale Chihuly (2016) 

"Walking to Boras" by Jim Dine (2006)

Some art demands a selfie.

I erroneously told Thom that Maya Lin had designed the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum, so it was good to see her in the collection.

"Silver Upper White River" by Maya Lin (2015) 

A sharp curatorial eye may help Crystal Bridges assemble a first-rate collection of contemporary art although Alice Walton refuses to overpay.  That probably explains why there's no Warhol.

"Superman  Versus the Toilet Duck" by Peter Saul (1963)

"Cow" by Alex Katz (2006)

Close-up of Martha Graham Portrait by Marisol (1977)

Julie Alpert's "Altars, Keepsakes, Squiggles, and Bows" (2021) looked as if it was the work of a very talented kindergarten class.

"Martin's Cincuentanera" by Shizu Saldamando (2018)

Unbelievably, we had Yayoi Kusama's "Infinity Mirrored Room-My Heart Is Dancing into the Universe"  (2018) entirely to ourselves.

Moshe Safdie's architecture really comes alive in the Seven restaurant and coffee shop, enclosed in cedar and glass and surrounded on both sides by water.

A Jeff Koons sculpture dangles from the middle.

"Hanging Heart" by Jeff Koons

Looking out from the restaurant at the contemporary art gallery

. . . and looking in from a short distance away on the other side of the restaurant.

Alice Walton was partying with donors in another area of the museum.  More than once we heard people say "She's here!"  

Still it can't have been cheap to import this Frank Lloyd Wright house from New Jersey.

 

Fun!

There's still time to see the Jeff Koons retrospective at the Whitney before the uptown Whitney closes its doors for good in October.  Even though his and Louise Bourgeois' outdoor sculptures are the only art I can recall from the Guggenheim Bilbao, I was unfamiliar with his oeuvre and more than a little skeptical.  Not any more.  I had almost as much fun as I did at Guardians of the Galaxy, which is saying a lot.  Koons is as obsessed with surface, sex and pop culture as much as I am--what's not to like?

That said, the first full floor of the exhibition bewildered me a bit.  As an occasional maid, I fully appreciate housecleaning appliances.  But stacked upon fluorescent lights in vitrines?

And sure the floating basketballs are cool, but juxtaposed with the Nike posters and the sculpted, aquatic lifesaving equipment--huh?  Perhaps Koons is reflecting on how a lucrative career in professional athletics can be misperceived as rescuing African Americans from the ghetto.  Anybody who tried to use the heavy sculpture would drown very quickly, while the basketballs remain an eerily suspended temptation.

Something similar is going on in the next room, where alcohol ads hang on the walls above shiny, shiny sculptures, many of which depict the tools used to deliver, mix and dispense America's most lethal drug.

Koons starts to get more playful in another room, occupied by smaller household appliances, inflatable flowers and bunnies, sponges and mirrors.

But the real fun begins one flight up with his most notorious work and bright color splashed on the walls.

I think this woman deliberately wore a wig to pose here.  I wish I had thought of it.

In another gallery, colorful mirrors cut in cartoon shapes reflect both visitors and guards.

Before going to the show, I knew that Koons had married an Italian porn star and that some of his work depicted their sex life.  Like they say, if you've got it, flaunt it.

I hadn't realized Koons was quite so handsome.  Undoubtedly a big career asset, no matter how idealized.

Cute poodle, too.

Who could resist the room of ceramic sculptures, especially the hot mermaid embracing what looks to be a terribly chagrinned Pink Panther?  

Michael Jackson, his chimp Bubbles and Buster Keaton are depicted, too.  Is that the Virgin Mary cradling a pig?  Animals are big in Koons world.

The reflections in the engraved wall hanging change constantly.

You'll find a bewigged king, Bob Hope and a bucktoothed girl among the smaller steel sculptures in the next room.

This photo makes it hard to see exactly what's going on here.  Let's just say this buxom girl hit the junkie jackpot--a physician more than willing to use his hypodermic needle!

Up another flight, you're struck by the scale and texture of Koons' work which manages to transform the banality of its subjects.

More inflatable toys in another gallery.

Should we be shocked by breast baring in such close proximity?

Speaking of breasts, King Kong beats his right next door.

"Antiquity" is the theme of the final room.  Okaaaaaaaay.

The shiny sculptures afforded quite a few discreet selfie opportunities for this old coot.

Don't miss the work on the lower level of the museum.  The album cover for Lady Gaga's Artpop is there along with some other barnyard miscellany.

Shiver me timbers--they kicked me out before I could get to see Popeye close up in the sculpture garden!

No matter, I left smiling.