CrAcK iS WaCk: Keith Haring

Crack is Wack
Keith Haring, Crack is Wack, 1986
CrAcK iS WaCk
By SAI GONDI

Boy, 1980's New York was quite the experience for any spectator roaming the concrete jungles. Traditional art lost some of the glamour it formally possessed within the public. It seemed people craved something fresh, something extraordinary to rally around and appreciate. 80's New York street culture was the perfect example of this, bringing the art directly to the people. Some might say delinquents, others visionaries. Regardless, graffiti and abstract street work became the eye opening splinter in the art world.

During a confusing time of diseases, pseudo wars, and drugs, artists took the subways and alleys to beautifully loiter the city with their messages and ideas. Art transformed into a platform to confront relevant social issues such as AIDS, race, and sexuality. The subjects became deeper while equally works became increasingly abstract. Keith Haring became of the most notable, respected artists during this revolution. His trademark cartoon humans helped him demonstrate an array of pressing issues including war and drug abuse. Throughout New York, his works sprung up on walls, handball courts, subways, and more. Haring's distinct style and blunt expression made him easily identifiable to any viewer. He befriending many artists during this period including Jean-Michael Basquiat and Futura 2000. Aside from crack, one of Haring's other popular subjects were AIDS, which he eventually died from at the age of 31. 

Crack is Wack was one of Haring's more popular works. Created in 1986. the mural was illegally created though now is protected by the city. Haring depicts his signature figures flailing and suffering as a result of abusing the drug, while the focus centers on a skeleton laying across the work. The skeleton signifies the extremely harmful consequences resulting from crack. In one hand, it holds the classic pipe used to consume the drug, while in the other there is a zero dollar bill caught on fire. This symbolizes people's savings burning up over an addictive product. Haring does not use as much color as his fellow New York artists during this time, however he still creates a powerful work shedding light on a pressing issue. 
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Beyond Ballet: Dance with an Apple

Beyond Ballet
Jean-Leon Gerome, Dancer with an Apple, 1890
Beyond Ballet
By ELLIE SCHNEIDER

I wanted to include a sculpture in this project to show how dancing is depicted in multiple mediums of art. After searching throughout WikiArt’s database, I found this sculpture. When I saw it, I knew I would include it in my project, because of the similarities between this dancer and the one in El Jaleo. 

Jean-Leon Gerome uses bronze to make this woman come to life. She pushes off of her left foot as her left hand draws her dress upward. She holds an apple near her mouth in her right hand, as her right foot prepares for landing. Despite being made of bronze, the girl appears weightless in this moment. I find it amazing how Gerome can portray such movement with metal. The attention to detail in this sculpture is amazing. Gerome uses intricate drapery to show movement in the cloth. The woman looks well-proportioned and extremely detailed. 

I felt that this was a good work to end on, because it reminds me of the flamenco dancer in El Jaleo that inspired my project. Both of the women draw their arms up and move with the music. The sculpture looks as if the flamenco dancer has come to life.

During this project, I realized the importance of moving with a purpose. With dancing and with painting, all of the works show the dancers moving for a reason. Two of the works show groups of people moving in a circular fashion. One piece shows two girls stretching to then help their dancing abilities. Then, the women in El Jaleo and Dancer with an Apple move in an intentional manner.

Throughout my past two years in art history class I have learned about all different mediums of art from different time periods. By curating this collection of dance in art, I have found that similar to painting or sculpting, dancers are purposeful in their movements. The process for dancers and choreographers matches that of painters and sculptures. Now, I truly realize why dancing is considered an art form.

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Beyond Ballet: Dance II

Beyond Ballet
Henri Matisse, Dance II, 1910
Beyond Ballet
By ELLIE SCHNEIDER

Matisse’s Dance II reminds me of Dance of Italian Villagers, because they have similar staging of the dancers and setting. In Dance II, the five dancers move in a circular motion, their orange bodies popping off of the blue sky and green grass. The figures move clockwise as they perform their dance. Each dancer depends on the others to perform this dance. For example, the dancers are holding hands, except for the two dancers in front. The circle is no longer complete, and the dance is no longer perfect. It’s amazing how much drama can be captured in the space between two hands, just look at Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam.

I saw this painting when I went to the MoMA. In person the work is huge, just over 8 x 12 feet. Just the sheer size of the work attracts eyes and people stood mesmerized by the movement of the orange dancers. Since the painting is so large, the colors flood your eyes, making it hard to process the bright orange against the rich blue. Matisse has the ability to evoke emotions with any color of his choice, like with The Red Studio.

I like how Matisse uses the orange and blue as complementary colors. I also like that all of Matisse’s figures are unique. Each of the five dancers are in different positions, are different sizes, and have different body shapes. Still, the five different figures work together in their dance circle.

I will never forget standing in front of this massive work, and being mesmerized by the movement and colors. I find it fascinating how paintings can evoke strong emotions or prompt movement. When I see El Jaleo or Dance II, especially with the sheer size of the works, it makes me want to dance. I think Sargent and Matisse have truly perfected the art of playing with the viewers emotions and starting conversations.
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Beyond Ballet: Two Ballet Dancers

Beyond Ballet
Edgar Degas, Two Ballet Dancers, 1879
Beyond Ballet
By ELLIE SCHNEIDER

You cannot discuss dance in art without talking about Degas. Still, I stayed away from using classics, such as The Dance Class or Dancers in Pink. Two Ballet Dancers caught my eye because it was different from his other depictions of dancers. Here, the dancers are resting, even stretching, but not dancing. Why would Degas paint dancers who were not dancing? I think that Degas found the same beauty in the movements of the girls’ stretching as when they were dancing. In Two Ballet Dancers, the wood paneled floor sets the stage and their mint-colored tutus pop off of the bright yellow wall.

The girls sit on the bench, reaching, leaning, and stretching. They are not in sync, or they are not “dancing the same routine.” Each girl stretching is the way that is most comfortable and helpful to her body.

For the girl on the right, you can feel her leaning to her left, reaching for her toes to stretch her calf and hamstring. On the left, the girl is in a relaxed first position as she reaches down to hold her calves. I also think that Degas’ depiction of the girls stretching reveals the fatigue and intensity of dancing. The girls practice for hours to perfect their skills, and they are allowed to be tired. Degas’ other works show the beauty of ballet, but this one shows the beauty of hard work. Degas painted ballet dancers to perfect his craft, and the ballet dancers practiced to perfect theirs’.

This painting has bright colors like Rubens uses in Dance of Italian Villagers. I think Two Ballet Dancers also has a lighter tone like in Rubens’ work, as opposed to the drama in El Jaleo. Like Sargent though, Degas focuses on female dancers. I like the casualness of Degas’ Two Ballet Dancers, because it shows how simple tasks like stretching are just as much of a dance as acting dancing is. I also like this work, because I think it is an under appreciated and unique Degas painting.
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Beyond Ballet: Dance of Italian Villagers

Beyond Ballet
Peter Paul Rubens, Dance of Italian Villagers, 1636
Beyond Ballet
By ELLIE SCHNEIDER

Before Sargent, there was Rubens. In Dance of Italian Villagers Rubens captures daily life of peasants in an unusual way. The perspective and circular shape of the dancers adds depth to the painting, using the grass in front as a stage. As the boy in the tree plays a trumpet, the villagers dance, possibly as a celebration or for a religious reason. The villagers are dressed in hues of blue, red, and yellow, allowing them to pop off of the green and light blue background.

I feel that this painting has drama just as El Jaleo does. The villagers are dancing in a less than perfect circle, as people are turned in every direction as they reach for each other, making it feel as if the people are being whisked away in a tornado. The circular motion creates chaos in the work. The light source in this work comes from the top right corner, causing intense shadows to form on the left side of the painting. The house in the background is in the light, while the rest of the trees and land lies in the shadow. Some people’s faces are filled with worry and some of determination.

Rubens’ most famous works are religious paintings, so it is interesting that he chose to paint dancing villagers. Rather than make this a fluffy and joyful piece, Rubens’ created the Dance of Italian Villagers with the same intensity and attention to detail that he would have used for The Descent from the Cross. I enjoy this painting because it is different from a classic Rubens painting and I like the circular movement and chaos of the dancers. I think this painting differs from El Jaleo in that it has more dancers, less drama, more chaos, and brighter colors. 
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Beyond Ballet: El Jaleo

Beyond Ballet
John Singer-Sargent, El Jaleo, 1882
Beyond Ballet
By ELLIE SCHNEIDER

When you hear the words dance and painting in the same sentence, it is easy to think of possibly the most famous painting of dancers, The Ballet Class by Edgar Degas. The thing I dislike about this painting is the stiffness of the dancers. When I think of dancing, I think of movement, music, and drama. The Ballet Class lacks movement. The girls stand around listening to their teacher, but the structure of the class sucks the creativity and freedom of movement out of the girls. When I hear dance and painting I immediately am taken to Spain, where John Singer-Sargent was inspired by women performing the jaleo de jerez dance while men play on guitars in the background. I first saw this painting last year when the Modern Art History class read Strapless by Deborah Davis. This painting was felt so modern compared to Sargent’s French works, and I was taken aback by the drama and movement he captured in the painting. This painting quickly became a favorite of mine and inspired my final project for this year.

I wanted to write about dance, because I think it is amazing how artists can capture a singular moment in time. More so the best works which exhibit movement and drama while encouraging viewers to move too. El Jaleo is the best example of this type of art, which is why I wanted it to be the first piece in my collection, symbolizing everything I love about art and dance.

In terms of movement, Sargent captures woman in El Jaleo in an unnatural position, in mid motion, switching from one dance move to the next, telling a story with her body. The various positions of the females in the bottom right and the band members add variation to the painting. The main dancer’s black top contrasts with her bright white skirt, just as the band’s black suits pop on the light-colored walls. The clashing of black and white adds to the drama of the work. Additionally, Sargent paints a spotlight being shown on the flamenco dancer, transforming the Spanish pub into a stage. The intense shadows only add movement to this dramatic and captivating painting.

Sargent’s ability to take viewers into a different time period and culture, while still feeling familiar, as dance is an activity known to all, proves that El Jaleo is a timeless piece of art that captures everything people love about art and dance.
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Reflections from Locker #14: The South Ledges, Appledore

Appledore
Hassam, The South Ledges, Appledore, 1913 
Reflections from Locker #14
By MEGAN GANNON

We’ve come to the end. Our final blog, well at least for me. I’ve spent a lot time thinking about what I would say in this last post, and how I could accurately depict how I feel about saying goodbye. Throughout this series we’ve rediscovered how time does not alter emotion. I feel in one respect I’ve said all I can for now and that my time to go has come, to leave this chapter of my life behind. 

Now this not to say, I won’t return, but for the moment I’ll leave you with my last piece of advice or more accurately the knowledge I have acquired. We try to categorize art into schools and periods, because of the uncertainty of the world around us. If we can call Caravaggio a Baroque artist or De Hooch a Dutch master we somehow bring order to the universe. Although sometimes we have to face the chaos, understand that life happens.

Recently, I received some pretty devastating news, but I know that things will be okay. Our challenges do not define our experiences, our reactions to those difficulties do. For my final painting, I chose Childe Hassam’s The South Ledges, Appledore. Now if you can’t tell by looking at it, Hassam did not paint it during the Renaissance, 17th, 18th, or 19th centuries. He painted this in 1913. Although if I’ve learned one thing you cannot limit the boundaries of your experience with artificial dates. If something speaks to you, you should not have to rationalize within time. Furthermore I realize the name provides little insight into the power of the work, but hear me out. 

When someone gives you bad news, they attempt to brace you, give you a crutch to lean on, to supplement the blow of what you are about to go through by providing you with cases of success and stories of hope. In my experience though, sometimes words drift into the wind and get lost, lose their meaning in an overload of compassion from those around you. Now the people who give you advice don’t mean any harm, but talking helps them process their feelings and often leaves you out. 

Hassam’s painting, speaks louder than words to me. The woman looking at the ocean, appears relaxed, yet slightly tilts her hat downwards away from the crashing waves. This act, her inability to face the ocean head on, mimics how I feel right now. I know I’m ready, I’ve soaked up all I can, but staring out into the blue, well that scares me. Cancer scares me, you hear it and you think of those close to you and what you would do in that situation, but you never know until a doctor stands in front holding test results that do not bring good tidings. 

I see this woman and I see myself, at the cusp of so much, she sits a top the cliffs with the brown and blues mixing together, blurring all lines. The blue should excite me, the promise of the future, of university, of enhanced learning, yet my gaze keeps getting trapped in the rocks, the hospital beds, the unpredictability of what’s to come, the not knowing what’s wrong but only that something is not right. 

The only thing that strikes me as bizarre about this paintings, is the woman’s solitude. Her attire, her posture makes it appears as if she’s staring at the skyline all alone. The viewer does not see the people behind her, the individuals who do not take center stage, but support her nonetheless. 

As I say goodbye, I want to say thank you. Thank you to Mr. Luce for the unwavering support, our faithful readers, my class, my family, and of course art. Without the efforts of those around us, who attempt to capture the human experience, we would suffer greatly. Whether through paintings, etching, sculptures, or wood carvings, art connects us. 

As I depart into the world, I want to share art, because it’s not something only for the wealthy or “well” educated, it’s for humanity. Renaissance or modern, art makes the world seem a little less scary. For all those who will come after me, don’t be afraid to get lost in the pigments, or let yourself feel the paintings. Yes, learn, and learn all you can, about technique and composition, and how history applies to it all, but do not lose sight of the works that tug at your heartstrings, the paintings that brighten your day and remind you how wonderful life is. 

Life will take and take and take, but if you adjust your view a little bit, you will see that life has just as much to give. 
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Reflections from Locker #14: Mother at the Cradle

Dehooch
DeHooch, Mother at the Cradle, 1662
Reflections from Locker #14
By MEGAN GANNON

I want to talk about love, not the type where you fall for the cute boy in biology class, but the kind that defines life outside of a romantic relationships, something more than a boyfriend or girlfriend, the love that transports you outside the fake wooden floors of the hallways. 

Love...we spend our lives in pursuit of it, running away from it, imagining it, I guess you could call it the quest for the ultimate emotion. We start and stop relationships in search of it only to experience it in the seemingly most mundane things. Love lives in stolen glances, little notes, and extended hands. 

Learning to love means giving a part of yourself to something, a terrifying thought, knowing that the loving people means are you in fact human. That in the midst of all those corny flowers there will be moments when there is no laughter, as someone you love becomes only a memory. 

Throughout the Renaissance, the Dutch embraced death with series like the Dance of Death and the emergence of momento mori. Many often criticize the Dutch masters for their lack of excitement. Although I have to disagree. I admire the Dutch masters for their dedication to the milk jugs and backyard gardens. 

Pieter De Hooch's Mother with Cradle, to me represents the love that we fear but cannot live without. At first glance, De Hooch's painting only appears as snapshot of a woman’s life, yet as you look closer the image alters. Take the little girl in the back, who stands at the cusp of the illuminated door. Here De Hooch references the innocence of the little girl and how sometimes when mother’s turn their back, children walk out the door into the bright unknowing world, unaware of the change to come. The dog turns his head back to the motherly figure as some last attempt to stop the girl from stepping into the light. 

In this painting, love is in the mother’s glance towards the baby, her extended finger, and the room as a whole. The loose pan...a sign of home with food and furthermore prosperity with the addition of well built furniture and elaborate draping. This family lives a stable life, safe in the cocoon of yellow and red hues. 

Recently, I watched the yellow light stream into my life, eclipsing the safety of this comfortable room. I stood in silence as De Hooch's motherly figure turned her back and I faced the doorway. 

The mother is not abandoning her child, she’s letting go. She understands that the little girl needs to find her way. She will stumble, but she has a home to come back to, a mother who will extend her hand in times of need. 

This seemingly ordinary moment that DeHooch captures, represents so much than Dutch life. We think of love as this grand thing, expressed in candlelight and airplane writing, but the most profound love often goes unseen and unspoken. The connection between the little girl and her mother, they may appear separated, the diagonal line that stems from the mother’s shoulder to her daughter’s back shows at their foundation lies a love stronger than a tangible object.

I’m lucky enough that when I see this painting, I see my mom, who although is currently terrified of sending me off into the world, knows that the love she raised me on will guide amidst all the bright light. 
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Reflections from Locker #14: Basket of Fruit

Basket of Fruit

Caravaggio Basket of Fruit.jpg
Caravaggio, Basket of Fruit, 1599
Reflections from Locker #14
By MEGAN GANNON

From love to fear. What could you possibly fear in high school? I mean grades, college, friendships, life in general, the fact puberty is a thing? At times it feels like rotten apples are pushing you, the grapes are holding you tight, while leaves seem to drift away. 

Your evolution will occur when you least expect it, friendships will fade with differing class periods, and late night decisions will alter the course of your experience. You’ll make the wicker basket your temporary home, but as the days weigh on, you and others will start to press on the flexible fibers, as ripe and overgrown fruits now too heavy for the once large basket. 

With fear comes anxiety. As much as I hate to admit it or give metaphorical power to the belief that anxiety is a part of high school, and growing up, it seems to be true. Although I ask you this, should it be? 

Should kids feel like they need to distinguish themselves as the most pristine grape or apple in order to achieve great things? 

Trust me, I’ve had the panic attacks, laid on the floor as I wondered what I am doing? And what am I doing in this basket, where I’m pushed and pulled, and told that this it’s normal. 

The normalcy of taking anti-anxiety medication in order to walk the hallways of this claustrophobic fruit basket. 

Caravaggio did not attend high school, yet with his Basket of Fruit, he seems to capture the sentiments of a secondary school environment. 

The apples, although slightly cumbersome and outnumbered, appear to cultivate precious space while they slowly rot from the core. They press on those around them, submitting them to a status beneath them, they appear solitary yet hold so much power. To the left, Caravaggio tackles the pear, with unique roots that sprout from all angles, and slightly off beat, practically falling out of the basket. He fills the rest of the space with differing grapes that seem to sweat before your eyes, and strategic branches and leaves in different stages of dying to demonstrate the complexity of the ecosystem. 

The basket placed up against the yellowed background, makes it appear isolated, creating a vibe that this basket could be placed anywhere and contents of the fruit inside would not differ. 

As the year comes to a close, the basket will grow lighter as the fruits begin to tumble off into a multitude of directions, some will bruise, others will blossom, but none will call the criss-crossing wicker strands home anymore. 

Although for all those still stuck within the confines of Caravaggio’s table, what advice to you give? Do you tell them to wait out the harvest, or reduce themselves to occupying less space? I hope not. Caravaggio by placing the fruits on top of each other, references how suffocating high school can be. His coloring and attention to detail demonstrates the subtle intricacies that no one would notice as first glance, yet are necessary in order to fully comprehend the painting. 

The trick is to see the intricacies and value them, but them put them away, or else they will consume you. Instead of you tumbling out of the basket, you’ll recede into the wicker. The moments of doubt will pass, and in the end you’ll be glad that you had a such a nice basket to call home for a little while.
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Reflections from Locker #14: Apollo and Daphne

Apollo and Daphne
Bernini, Apollo and Daphne, 1625
Reflections from Locker #14
By MEGAN GANNON

This next post is about the pain, the growing pains of high school, you grow a few inches in height, in years, and in experience. Between the ages of 14 and 18, you stumble a few times, acquire some new scars, and rediscover old ones. You’re at that age where you’re still too young to understand the gravity of some situations but old enough to realize when something goes wrong. 

Before I begin, I’d like to dedicate this post to all the people who have been told “you’re lucky because it didn’t go further, because you screamed, because you cried, because he apologized.”Stop feeling lucky and start feeling those invisible scars before they consume you. You are stronger than the Apollos and through Bernini’s work I hope you begin to see your strength. 

Apollo, you wrap your arms around me, weaving your way into my soul, slowly taking the breath from my lungs. You move quietly amongst the trees, almost indistinguishable. My feet will only carry me so far, I run and run only to feel you around the next corner. Your fingerprints linger far after my skins return to its normal complexion. You’ve left your mark on me and despite my efforts I cannot wash it off. 

You took away my safety, made me shudder when people stepped too close, but I am not giving up. You haven’t won Apollo. I am not your Daphne. 

Despite the fact that Bernini crafted his sculpture in the 15th century, the twisting and turning of Apollo and Daphne transcends time. For if you take away their names, Apollo and Daphne, represent any woman and man who has ever felt violated. The look on Daphne’s face does not project her majesty, but her humanity. With her emotional facial features, Bernini captures the pure terror that washes you over as you feel someone close in with no hope of escape, the act of screaming without a sound. Her eyes cast downward in disbelief, “Could this really be happening?”According to the mythological tale, the Gods save Daphne by turning her into a tree. Although little girls don’t turn into trees. Bark doesn’t protect them from the prying hands of Apollo and his sweeping cape. 

In high school, you’ll meet your first Apollo. It doesn’t matter what you say, or your body language, he will not see it. He will make you feel as if you are nothing, but a sum of parts. Apollos come in all shapes and sizes, yet share the same goal. 

You’ll feel paralyzed, the world will orbit around but you will stay stagnant, cemented in the roots at your feet. You might want to become a tree, to escape it all, but you can’t. 

Bernini could have sculpted Apollo holding a tree, cherishing his prize, but he doesn’t. Instead he opts to show the moment of intensity, the culmination of terror, power, and matter colliding into one another, creating a still chaos. With stone, Bernini manages to mimic the fluidity of a wind blown forest, consuming a girl. Her hands morphing into the branches that safeguard her. 

Today we have trees, trees that bear scars but that stand tall, who wave their branches, and rock their roots. Little girls deserve good watering, and care, to grow strong and green, to bloom when they’re ready. 

Apollo will not vanish, he will try again, but this time your branches will be ready. For your roots have formed with those around you, creating a system that cannot be uprooted with an ax for you are stronger than a single piece of artillery.
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