Morrissey’s “List of the Lost”

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Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

“Um, Nighthawk? Planet Earth, calling. You said you were reading this way back on October 23, 2015. Exactly 4 months have passed. Leaves and snow have fallen. ’15 became ’16. The Grammys finished making their own, annual, “List of the Lost.” So…

How the heck is it?”

I thought you’d never ask. ; )

It’s a powerful, thought provoking, sad comment on human nature and parts of American society’s basest motivations that interestingly takes place in this country at a time when its author was yet to live here ¹. It’s a work that will linger in the mind for both its messages and its craft. Along the way, many of the author’s long held core beliefs find their way into the narrative, along with a range of others. As an admitted Morrissey “fan” it’s not appropriate for me to “review” List, because of course, I’m going to say “It’s great! Read it!,” but it’s not that simple. Unlike Autobiography, which I think is 1/2 of a classic and I hope for an update one day, List is a novel, a dark one, that takes place in a land where the sun never shines and where the untoward lurks around every corner, every moment. In the place of “review,” then, some observations. For those planning on reading it (as I write this it still hasn’t been published in the USA, but very reasonably priced copies are available online. Mine was less than 10. including shipping.) don’t worry, I will not “spoil the plot,” or give too much away. (As always, I have read nothing anyone has written about it, save for Morrissey’s quote on the back cover, )

I have been aware of Morrissey, listening to his music, going to see him and The Smiths (in 1986), and following his career since “The Smiths” (their debut Lp) came out in 1984. Some of my Posts here use his songs as their soundtracks. Almost 32 years on it’s IMPOSSIBLE for me to read something like this and not find my mind constantly being pulled in a hundred directions with every line, like following a decades long trail of bread crumbs. This is one reason I prefer movies with actors I don’t know (as when I first saw “2001”). Not knowing anything “about” them helps me believe their character more – there is none of their personal gossip and real life lore to get in the way. Reading List, it’s too hard for me to not bring any other point of reference to bear And? There are many- take 2013’s Autobiography. In it we learned (sorry for the spoiler, but you’ve had two years to read it) that young Morrissey was a runner, and one who did well at it. By chance, the 4 heroes of List are runners, a half mile relay team. Along with one of their girlfriends and the team’s coach they are most of the major players. In 1975 when the story takes place, they are 20, Morrissey was 16. So, is it fair to wonder why early on the author can go into such detail about the experience of running? The purpose of the runner? His feelings during training or of winning or losing? The depth with which he writes about their activity is knowing and considered. It’s obvious (or it sure feels that way) that he’s lived it. Been there and done that. So, Morrissey was a runner and has now written a novel about runners. A novel about 4 runners, a relay team, is very unusual if not unique.

And it’s in “coincidences” like this where my “troubles” began.

Morrissey’s Autobiography clocks in at 480 pages in paperback. HIs first novel, List of the Lost, totals a mere 118 pages. List took me longer to read. I started reading it 3 times. The first to get an idea of it, like I’ll take a quick walkthrough of a major Art show I’m seeing for the first time, to get a feel for how to approach it. The restart was “Ok, let’s just read it.” Once I realized how very much Morrissey has packed into the very economical 118 pages, I realized it was too hard for me to read it in a vacuum (which won’t be a problem for most readers). I started athird, taking notes and making an outline. 28 pages of notes later, I finished reading List last night.

Readers Meet Author…”With The Hope Of Hearing Sense.”* Count Basie Theater, NJ Jan 15, 2013

As someone who grew up in America, 3,500 odd miles from where M grew up, though not all that many years apart, I find his observations on American family life fascinating. He does say in Autobiography that he visited the USA with his family as a kid. I grew up in one of those repressed households he describes early on, and seeing it through his eyes was a revelation- for me, about my own life-

“Sex was always there…yet… difficult to obtain…because of the atomic supremacy in the family values of their upbringings which, of course, circumscribed the sons’ freedom to fly, since a certain sexlessness kept the grown child tied to the family, even if the impossibly constricted demands could very easily lead to a form of sexual cremation for the young child. The parental mind would allow the child time to develop political views, but there would certainly be no question of allowing the child time to choose its preferred religion, and even more importantly, the grand assumption that all children are extensively heterosexually resolved at birth whipped a demented torment across the many who were not. Whether physical maneuvers were difficlut or easy (and it is usually one or the other, and for eternity), our foursome found in each other a generosity of spirit and determination that all other circumstances seemed blind to. Each would make up for the other’s loss- so firmly they took their friendship into their own hands, and around it went.” List of the Lost, Pages 11-12.

As you can see, he immediately folds this observation seamlessly into setting the stage for the characters in his book. Following this “crumb”, I began to notice snippets of more opinions and observations, at first gradually, then more at length, that are nothing less than commentary on society and a range of many other topics. They are generally well placed as context, but they did tend to “jar” me out of the story to ponder a bigger picture. As I read the book, I was fascinated by what the writer chooses to include, and leave out (see ^ below). This is largely accomplished through the voice I call the Narrator (N). Exactly who he is is never revealed. Yet, his views are remarkably similar to the author’s. (“Narrator Meet Author”?) He is the “other” major character in List.

The N provided a steady stream of interest for me, delaying my completion date at every page turn, and he pontificates for pages at a time in a 118 page book. Animal nature, animal rights and lack thereof, human nature, the differences between animals and humans, sex, hookups, middle aged men, old men, old women, Churchill, Princess-later-Queen Elizabeth, royals in general, nuclear engineers, the police, war and war dead, the asexuality of friendships, who really won WW2, sports as “news,” justice & the courts, meat overeating Americans and their children (a laundry “list” of M’s hot button issues if there ever was one), are some of the topics our N addresses at length, while key moments of plot happen in a flash. Other topics, yes including homosexuality are occasionally discussed at length by the characters, but mostly it’s left to the N.

For me, it’s tempting to take List apart and make it into two books- one of the Narrator, the other the story proper. There would be minimal overlap from the former to the latter, but the former may well stand as treatise by itself. The N goes deeper than I’ve heard Morrissey go on many of these topics before, even in Autobiography, where most of these are not touched on.

(^)Interestingly and completely absent among that list there is no music. No talk of it. No mention of anything going on in music at the time. This is very surprising. Autobiography is full of this talk. Would it have been all that unique if the 4 had been members of a band, instead of runners? Then everyone would have read it as The Smiths. Disaster. Besides, he’s addressed all that in Autobiography. Without music, we are, almost, in an alternate, USA-based, young Morrissey universe. The universe of Moz the runner and not young Moz the Bowie/Ramones/NY Dolls acolyte of a few years later.

His role seemingly all-seeing, the narrator also steps in to address and reveal the inner mind of the characters. Some of the best writing in the book comes at these times, in my opinion. At once- the micro and macro view of the world, and their worlds, big and small. It’s as if everything that happens in our lives, or life, takes place in the same cosmic “mind”, only in different parts of it.

Unlike parts of Autobiography, this time, things as a whole feel sharply focused. He has compacted the story to its most essential moments, leaving the rest of the room for the N. In that way, it’s cannily done. In two outings we have a fascinating autobiography that might be a bit too expansive in parts and a amazingly compact novel that doesn’t “waste” one moment’s time. Its story, in spite of its twists and turns, could be outlined quickly- mine is less than a page, but therein lay lifetimes of choices, instincts, ramifications and intentions as seen from the eyes of youth and the aged. Each, a product of environment, experience and family like those on Page 11, has their point of view, their reasons, their dreams. Yet, in the end, each are destined to the same fates- over which they may have “limited” control.

By setting the piece in 1975 he allows some distance on the events- both figurative and literally, though of course, in the end, that doesn’t matter- all of the tale’s key points hold every bit as much today. A morality play set in 1975 that serves as a tale of warning for today, like a gift from a caring “Hey, watch out for this.” friend, lest we too wind up on the List of the Lost. The “problem” is that while many things are in our control, as we see here things also happen in life that no amount of watchfulness is going to stop.

What does his song say? “Books don’t save them, books aren’t Stanley Knives.”*

List of the Lost is published by Penguin Books.

Soundtrack for this post is “Lucky Lisp,” by the author of List of the Lost and Stephen Street from Morrissey’s Bona Drag album. It came on one day recently and crystalized for me why it took me so long to finish this book. As in “Yes, I know it’s taking me a long time to finish. Then again, I still haven’t gotten what “Lucky Lisp” is about!” It seems these folks haven’t, either.

*-From “Reader Meet Author” By Morrissey and Boz Boorer from Southpaw Grammar published by Warner Chappell Music Publishing.

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His first visit was apparently in 1976, per page 125 of the eBook Autobiography. He mentions “three more trips to America before 1980…and I cry my way back to intolerant Manchester,” where he works as a basement filing clerk “to get the money to return to America.” Pages 127-28. He’s famously lived in Cali, next door to Nancy Sinatra for years now ↩

Words To Live By From Man Ray

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

“The conscious individual striving to experience all the sensations of life is forced by his physical and temporal limits to receive them in a more concentrated form. This concentration of life is offered by the expressive arts.”

Man Ray, “No. 6 The Conscious Individual” November, 1915 from “Writings On Art”, P.20 Published by Getty Research Institute

One of the most unique Artists in history, Man Ray is one of those people who seems to continually appear…as one of the most revolutionary photographers ever, a painter (his first love), a sculptor, a graphic artist, and on and on…and also as a writer. He’s in all the major museums, but rarely gets a show of his own. I’ve always admired his work, and continually been surprised by it, and his accomplishment (as in “That’s a Man Ray, too?”) Having published a fascinating autobiography, perfectly titled “Self Portrait,” which drips with both insight and intrigue, now comes a collection of his writings about art. It’s a book that even rewards random reading- almost every page has a fascinating example of his one of a kind mind.

I think they make wonderful meditations…

Soundtrack for this post is, what else? “Man Ray,” by the Futureheads from their 2004 self-titled album.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

The Next Penn Station

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

“The past is gone
It went by, like dusk to dawn
Isn’t that the way
Everybody’s got the dues in life to pay”*

Madison Square Garden. Believe it or not, concerts are held & the Rangers and Knicks play on the 5th Floor, Penn Station is in the basement.

I’m a lifelong NY Rangers fan. I was at Games 1 and 5 of the 1994 Stanley Cup Finals at MSG, and yes, I also was at the unforgettable Game 7, June 14, 1994, when the Rangers won the Cup for the first time in those forgettable 54 years, the first time they ever won it at home. My seat was right above the guy with the famous “NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE” sign. Oh, I know how he felt- Having been a Rangers fan for more than half of those 54 years to that point, It may have been the greatest experience of my entire lifetime.

I convinced the company I worked for to get Ranger Season Tickets for a few years after that.

MSG does not pay to advertise on Nighthawk.NYC, so I had to replace their ads. I think it looks much better now, right?

I was also a Knicks fan during the Frazier-Willis Reed years, and saw one playoff game by that Championship Team at MSG, still, the greatest basketball team I’ve ever seen. Additionally, I’ve seen many many concerts at MSG by Prince, Elvis Costello, Radiohead, the Rolling Stones, Yes, Miles Davis, Lady GaGa, Blondie and Morrissey, himself.

Morrissey @MSG June 27, 2015. One of the most recent unforgettable moments I’ve had there.

The Garden has been a big part of my life.

All of that, the fact that the Knicks are headed back up (which will result in more popularity & attention), and the billion dollars the Dolans spent to renovate the Garden¹(while somehow paying $0 to the City in Property Taxes) stand on one side.

“Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away”*

MSG Renovations, in progress here, included new periphery lighting and huge new advertising billboards, only partly installed here. Renovations to Penn Station? $0

The countless thousands of others who commute or travel through Penn Station every single day stand on the other.

For me? This is a no brainer.

As NYC debates what to do about that pathetic transit hub called “Penn Station,” which used to be the name of one of the glories of American Architecture (on the same location), before some genius decided to tear it all down, let’s not be shortsighted, again, or yield to big money.

“Half my life
Is books, written pages
Live and learn from fools and
From sages”*

There is only ONE choice here-

Do What Is Best for the commuters and travelers, FIRST and Last. That’s an investment in helping to keep NYC great, as well as a step towards bringing transportation here into the 21st Century. Then, when the best plan for that has been determined? Put MSG on the next best option.

The Farley Post Office (right), across 8th Avenue from the current MSG, could be where the “next” MSG goes, though it’s landmark status may be a problem.

Sorry, Dolans- MSG is an AFTERTHOUGHT in this discussion, NOT the priority.

End of story.

Right now, there seems to be no clear vision. Some steps are in progress, however, with the construction currently underway of Moynihan Station in part of said Farley Post Office, as seen today-

“Raise the curtain and show them what they’ve won!” It’s the entrance to the New Moynihan Station, the new Amtrak Station, at the Farley Post Office, across the street from MSG, Jan 28, 2016.

But there remains no concrete overriding plan that “solves” the bigger problem. Governor Cuomo’s proposal doesn’t sound like “it” to me.

First, we need to make that choice I just outlined to fix mass transit. Period. Then, create the best urban design plan that facilitates it. THEN put MSG on the next best location ². Penn Station needs to be a focus, not an afterthought “shoehorned” into MSG as the Governor’s plan tries to do. They are two separate structures on two different sites in my opinion. The chance exists to do something defining & wonderful here. A chance we had and failed to seize at Ground Zero, and more recently in Brooklyn. It is another chance to define NYC for the 21st Century. Yes, whatever we build will “define” the City going forward. Why not build something GREAT for the “Greatest City In The World,” (to quote Lin-Manuel Miranda)?

Will we seize that chance and do something Great with it? I’m not holding my breath. I don’t see the leader with the guts to overrule the special interests and push something magical AND every bit as functional as we desperately need through.

So? I’m left to Dream On….

While I’m dreaming…If we were going to build something new AND Great? I STRONGLY suggest we beg ³ Frank Gehry to design it, then leave him alone to do it. Gehry, America’s greatest living architect, who’s father lived in Hell’s Kitchen, in the very shadow of MSG & the Farley Post Office, has created masterpieces that have helped put even Bilbao, Spain on the map. If he’s creating this in Las Vegas, isn’t it about time we got a masterpiece from him to help define NYC for the 21st Century?

Gehry’s Lou Ruvo Center, Las Vegas. Not a train station, though it’s located on “Grand Central Pkwy.” Check out their site to see it at night. Exterior & Interior photos courtesy of Jane In Las Vegas. Thanks, Jane!

“Dream on
Dream on
Dream on
Dream until your dreams come true”*

Ok…next problem. Do I hear anyone say-

“What about that other transit disaster, and monstrosity, a few blocks north known as the Port Authority Bus Terminal?”

Maybe we could get a “deal” on both from Mr. Gehry? My brain glosses over orgasmically thinking about how amazing that could be.⁴

Remember to thank me later. After I wake up.

*-Soundtrack for this post is “Dream On” by Steven Tyler and recorded by Aerosmith on their 1973 self-titled debut album. Published by BMG Rights Management US.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

MSG looks great inside. The exterior is now a mess, in my opinion. ↩
The Voice makes mention of the $300 Million in tax breaks MSG has received the past 30 years, thanks to Ed Koch…and counting. Well? Since they no doubt invested that money well they could possibly build the new MSG from the proceeds, and given the bull market the past 8 years, might be able to build it without even touching the principle! If ANY public official turns around and gives them MORE tax breaks now? SERIOUSLY? ↩
which we may have to after he got jerked around so badly in Brooklyn. That turned out so well, hasn’t it? ↩
Keep in mind the NY Times building, across from the Port Authority, came THIS close to being a Gehry. I shed a tear every time I walk past it. ↩

Art Shows, 2015 – Who Keeps Your Flame?

“But when you’re gone,
Who remembers your name?
Who keeps your flame?”*

January, 2015. Goya: Order and Disorder @The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Neither snow, nor 5 hours on a train kept the Nighthawk from the Front Door of Great Art.

Since I don’t believe in comparing creative work or creative people, AND I believe that “awards” for “Best” whatever among the Arts (and Sports) are absurd ¹, I thought I’d do a “List In No Particular Order” of 2015 Art Shows I saw (some opened in 2014) that may or may not have closed for good, but still continue to open doors in my mind, and that’s more important than any award I could bestow.

“Oh can I show you what I’m proudest of?”*

Goya: Order and Disorder (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA. No photos permitted.) AND Goya:Los Caprichos (National Arts Club, Gramercy Park, NYC)- Two concurrent, excellent shows, 250 miles apart, one huge, the other “small” showing two views of Goya- one all encompassing, filling the whole lower level of the MFA, one narrowly focused on a rare, complete set of his landmark 80 print, Los Caprichos,(once owned by Robert Henri, who reappears below) combined to show the enduring power, importance, relevance and eternal influence of the Spanish Master. Many saw the former, far fewer saw the latter, tucked away in a dining? lecture? room on the second floor of the NAC (Behind hundreds of chairs on one of my visits!). An artist of nightmares, both surreal and all-too-real, the likes of which perhaps only Bosch can equal, who can then turn around and paint with the utmost lyricism, Goya was all about what it is to be human. Take your pick- portraits, historical pieces, landscapes, the otherworldly or the underworldly, children, tapestries, or his graphic works that hold their own with dare-I-say-Rembrandt, he’ll blow your mind.

Goya/MFA on the show’s elevator entrance, overlooking Dale Chihuly’s Tree.

Remember My Name. Goya’s Self Portrait casts his all-seeing eye on us 215 years later.

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters from The Caprichos” So? Stay up!

Neither blizzard, nor the furniture(!), kept the Nighthawk from seeing all of Goya’s incredible Los Caprichos at the National Arts Club, but I think they tried to.

Richard Pousette-Dart (Pace 510 West 25th, Chelsea)- I walked in and was completely captivated by “abstract” Art the way I haven’t been since the Mark Rothko Show at the “Old” Whitney in 1998, which was one of the greatest shows I’ve ever seen. (That’s not comparing.) Don’t be fooled by the apparent geometric simplicity, there is an astounding subtlety to these works that at once feel microscopically considered, often freely rendered, yet globally cohesive. Pousette-Dart had a number of styles, and this show represented one, geometric style, from the 1970’s in both large oils and smaller drawings. For any of those who think that Abstract Expressionism is “easy” to do, go ahead and try creating one of these, the largest is almost 8 foot square, and then see if it has the “Presence” of Dart’s. The amount of work that went into each piece belies their seemingly “simple” composition, is matched by an extraordinary primacy of order, and second only to their transcendent impact. Here, we see Richard Pousette-Dart as the great, “under known” abstract artist. While Pollock & Rothko have grown larger in stature, Pousette -Dart’s name deserves to be right there with theirs. There is only one word to describe this show’s effect- Magical.

Then? There’s never a chair around when you want one. Pousette-Dart @Pace- Presence, Circle of Night, 1975-6, center, Black Circle Time, 1980, left and White Circle Time, 1980, 90″ square each.

Imploding Black, 1975, six feet square. Transcendent,

Detail.

Cerchio di Dante, 1986, six foot square

Detail of the left side.

“Let me tell you what I wish I’d known
When I was young and dreamed of glory
You have no control
Who lives
Who dies
Who tells your story?”*

Richard Estes: Painting New York City (Museum of Art & Design, NYC)- My favorite contemporary artist, and one of the greatest living realists, FINALLY gets an NYC Museum show, and it was worth the wait. A virtual time capsule of NYC from the mid 1960’s to 2015’s astounding Corner Cafe, showing the 83 year old Master is still at the height of his considerable power. Oh…Do NOT call him a “photorealist” in my presence! Estes shows us the world we live in as we do not see it, (more on this soon) and so follows in the footsteps of Edward Hopper and Charles Sheeler in advancing American realism while, perhaps, being the first to include the abstraction that is also a part of the real world. A misunderstood painter, in my eyes, who is only just beginning to be really seen, finally.

Horn & Hardart Automat, 1967. Not since Hopper has a work spoken to me of life in the City like this does.

Columbus Circle, Maine Monument, 1989. 500 years ago, or 100, they came by ship. Now? They come by bus. Frozen in time, side by side.

Times Square, 2004. Nothing captures the experience of the place better than this, though Robert Rauschenberg is capable of giving me a similar feeling (See below).

“I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings
You really do write like you’re running out of time.”*

Picasso: Sculpture (MoMA)- If he had never done anything besides paint, Picasso would be considered among the all time Masters. But, noooooooooooo… Picasso was, perhaps, the most unique genius in (known) art history in that his genius was among the most restless. He almost never stopped creating, and he never stopped seeking new outlets for his creative vision. Consider- PICASSO HAD NO TRAINING AS A SCULPTOR! NONE. Yet, that didn’t stop him from becoming, perhaps, THE most revolutionary sculptor up to his time. There is so much great work to see in this show, I don’t even know where to start talking about it. “Picasso: Sculpture” shows us the naked face of endlessly creative genius the like the world has never seen. I’ll sum it up by saying virtually all of it is wonderfully selected, though some of the Cubist works here don’t stand up to his paintings, in my opinion, and wonder- When will we see his like, again? The “other” takeaway, for me, is- Oh…MoMA. I miss you. About as much as I miss your “old” building.

Standing Figure in Wire, 1928. Unprecedented. Astounding.

Sylvette, 1954. “I see you slightly folded…in steel, my dear.” Picasso must have said.

America Is Hard To See (Whitney Museum)- I’m saving my thoughts on the “New Whitney” Building (UPDATE- They may be seen here.), but the opening show in the new place was a wonderful “Welcome Back” to one of the first 3 of NYC”s Big Four Museums and a reminder of its world class (and first anywhere) collection of American Art. My personal highlight? The first floor gallery featuring a selection of Hopper Drawings done at the Whitney Studio which predated the Museum, and the absolutely mesmerizing portrait of Museum founder, the indomitable Mrs. Gertrude V. Whitney (also an overlooked sculptor) that looked out at Gansevoort Street, and for my money? SHOULD HAVE BEEN LEFT RIGHT THERE- PERMANENTLY! It wasn’t.

Frozen in time. Mrs Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney looks out on the new home of the collection she started.

Mrs. Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney by Robert Henri, 1917, with her Study for the Head of her Titanic Memorial from 1922, right. Yes. She was a sculptor, too.

Before the First Whitney Museum opened in 1931, there was the Whitney Studio Club, where artists came to draw from the model. See that guy to the left of center rear with the light shining on his bald head? That’s Edward Hopper, a regular. That’s why his estate was left to The Whitney. Litho by Mabel Dwight, 1931.

America is hard to change. Excellent, rarely seen, works by Grant Wood, Study for Breaking the Prairie, 1939,…

…And Kara Walker, A Means To An End, 1995, struck me as serendipitous.

America: Seen everywhere. Inside- Rothko’s Four Darks in Red, 1958, Pollock’s Number 27, 1950, Chamberlain, Jim, 1962 & Guston’s Dial, 1956…

…And, Outside- sculpture from one of the countless roof decks.

“And I’m still not trough I ask myself,
what would you do if you had more time
The Lord, in his kindness
He gives me what you always wanted
He gives me more time.”*

I end this section honoring two endlessly creative American “painters,” featured in very very good shows. Like Richard Estes, these two artists also put that “more” time of a long life to superb use. Yes, despite evidence to the contrary, they both consider themselves to be painters. To me, the “lessons” of their lives, how they were able to survive following their star in this country for so long, may prove to be as important as their considerable artistic legacies.

Robert Rauschenberg- Anagrams, Arcadian Retreats, Anagrams:A Pun (Pace 534 West 25th, Chelsea)- Presaging Photoshop, the late, great Mr. Rauchenberg continues to speak to our times though he, unfortunately, left us almost 7 years ago. Light years ahead of his times, throughout his life, Anagrams…, a show of Mr. Rauschenberg’s final development, shows that once again, his work will look “contemporary” for years to come, and more amazingly, I think it will be as relevant as what anyone else is doing at the moment! As I just said, he represents something of an American miracle- an artist who was able to spend virtually his entire life creating EXACTLY what he wanted to, answering to no one but himself. That sure must seem miraculous to today’s American artists. Interestingly, like Mr. Estes, the works here are based on Mr. Rauschenberg’s own photography, to very different results. Unlike Mr. Estes, Mr. Rauschenberg’s are directly transferred to the piece, though with such skill and subtlety they have the effect of melting into the others they’re surrounded by. A surprisingly fresh, visually rich, often beautiful show who’s spell will call me a few more times before it ends on January 16. And then, I will miss it, but it will have changed the way I see the world, like Richard Estes has.

Rauschenberg @ PACE. I just loved this show.

Frank Stella (Whitney)- An art mover’s nightmare of a show, the Artist’s helpful hand notated directional markings seen on some of the pieces notwithstanding, it must have been hard for Mr Stella, himself, to narrow his 50-some year career down to one floor at the New Whitney, handsomely displayed in the still-new space. With only one Moby Dick piece in sight, the take away for me is that here is a Triumphant overview of another rare American artist who continues to explore and evolve, fickle times and the “harpoons” of even more fickle critics & collectors be damned. Mr. Stella has devoted his career to the eternal pursuit of finding new possibilities, “new spacial complexities” ², for the Art Form of painting. Some of these sure look like sculpture, but I’ll bow to what he says on one of the show’s signs- “Q- You still call these paintings? A- Yes. They are, in fact, paintings.” Remarkably, as he closes in on 80 this May 12, Mr. Stella continues to “start over,” as Richard Meier says on the audio guide, eternally following his muse, breaking painting out of 2 dimensions, to lord-only-knows-where-next. In this show’s case? The Journey IS The Destination. Mr. Stella strikes me as a master conceptualist with an endless font of making the unlikely, and especially the unthought-of, real. Forget this show’s afterthought of a catalog, for me, his value, “message” and influence lie in the sheer physical experience of his work- they simply must be seen, and often, walked around like sculpture to be fully appreciated. Who else “paints” like this? If you go, and you should, check out the great quotes from Mr. Stella on the wall signage- “What you see is what you see.” And then some. What I saw was a show to fire your creativity, and inspire you to see new possibilities in anything, if there ever was one. You still have a few days left to see it before it closes after February 7. Then, the art movers get to pack it up and move it out. I would pay to watch that.

50+ years of “starting over.”

“Toto, We’re Not On Canvas, Anymore.” Stella Busts Painting Out.

“Um..A Little Higher On The Right?”

And lest I forget…

Cubism (The Met No photos permitted.)- TM is on a mission to shore up its Modern & Contemporary Art holdings, as we will soon see at The Met, Breuer, but this show featuring works of a promised gift goes a very long way to solidifying TM’s Cubists holdings, and then some. So many strong works by the Masters of Cubism, Picasso, Braque, the underrated Juan Gris, and Leger abound, they made me wonder where TM is going to install them all when they finally get them!

Madame Cezanne (TM No photos permitted.)- Portraits are not the first thing most think of when they think of Cezanne. Many think of his groundbreaking landscapes and genius with color, but this show of his, no doubt long-suffering wife, says as much about this under known muse as it does about Cezanne. The hours she spent posing for him reminds me of “The Man in The Blue Shirt,” by Martin Gayford about sitting for Lucian Freud. The show is a striking look at another side of this master of impressionism, and gives us rare opportunities to see 4 versions of a painting reunited, and Cezanne’s actual sketchbooks. A rare treat for the lover of Impressionism, portraiture and great Art.

China Through The Looking Glass (TM)- Except for Picasso: Sculpture and Goya’s Los Caprichos, the above shows are painting shows, my true love, but CTTLG is in a category all its own. ANY show that can get TM to stay open till Midnight has to make the Nighthawk’s list. After setting the bar high with “Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty,” TM’s Costume Institute topped themselves with a spectacle that the 800,000 who saw it will remember almost as long, and which will prove quite a challenge for 2016’s “manus x machina,” or MxM, as I’m calling it to equal, let alone top. I predicted 1 Million will attend it, so GO EARLY (or don’t say I didn’t warn you) & Stay tuned!

Francis Bacon- Late Paintings – (Gagosian No photos permitted.) – with one work, a triptych selling for 142 million, I can’t fathom how much 28 are worth, but here was a chance to see that many in one show, focused on the seemingly contemplative, other-worldly “late” Bacon,

especially after seeing the following (Rembrandt show) on the same day, which brought to mind subtle, fascinating convergences- self-portraits, multiple views, or states, for Rembrandt, diptychs & triptychs for Bacon, among them.

Rembrandt’s Changing Impressions (Columbia U.)- In lieu of the “big one” I missed (see below), this was a closer-to-home chance to see 50 or so prints by the Master and a rare chance to see various “states” (versions) of works side by side. A bit light on the most well known of Rembrandt’s etchings, but very worth 4 visits none the less.

Not a triptych. Rembrandt creates 3 masterpieces from one composition.

Chuck Close Recent Paintings (Pace 534, Chelsea)- I met Mr. Close, briefly, but in spite of the fact that he is one of the greatest portraitists of the 2nd half of the 20th Century+, I know he won’t remember my face. He has Prosopagnosia. He’s ALSO paralyzed and in a wheel chair. I never cease to be absolutely astounded at what he achieves and what new ground he breaks. Already a Master before his brain aneurysm, which would have stopped 99.5% of anyone not named Chuck Close, he’s gone on to create ever new works that continue his life long exploration of his famous “grid technique.” These works add even new elements- new palettes, a new approach to focus and depth of field, and more.

Linda & Mary McCartney (Gagosian Books)- If they had taken down all the title cards, removed the iconic shots among Linda’s, and you walked in without knowing which work was by who- Linda McCartney, or her and Paul’s daughter, Mary, you’d never know. That’s how amazingly symbiotic the eyes of the two photographers are. They see as one. Walking out, and I say this with nothing but respect, it really felt like Linda had never passed away. That her work continues. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

The daughter reflects well on her famous mother.

George Caleb Bingham (TM)- The year’s “sleeper” pick. I don’t know if he ever met Mark Twain, but if Mr. T. ever wanted an artist to illustrate “Huck” or “Tom Sawyer?” G.C.B. would get my vote. His work captured what it was to live on the River the way only Twain, himself, has, and makes a contribution to laying the ground work towards defining a truly “American” style of painting, and by the Mid-Nineteenth Century? It was about time! TM’s show reveals him to be something of a predecessor for that other great American 19th C. portraitist, Thomas Eakins, but with a style and a power of his own that still holds up.

Araki (Anton Kern, NYC)- He lost his wife…he gets prostate cancer…he says he no longer has sex…Nothing stops the indefatigable, legendary Araki. Don’t let the “casual” taping of the photos to the wall fool you- I found this show striking, poignant, meditative and moving. The images flowed one to the next, sometimes in harmony, sometimes in dissonance, but all of them speak with that sense that only Araki has. Some will say he’s a misogynist. I’m not a woman but I disagree. I see beauty and poetry in his shots of women. Reading some of the press materials on hand, I was struck by his comment that he had sex with most of his models. I couldn’t help wonder- Does that include Bjork? Live long, and much health, Araki.

Also lingering in my mind, tormenting me with what I missed, are the ones that got away-

Late Rembrandt (Rikjsmuseum, Amsterdam)- I agonized about going. For months. Like I agonize about Frank Gehry at LACMA right now! (Hello, Sponsorship?)

Bjork (Moma)- Sold out when I went. Bad reviews be damned, I love Bjork.

Overall, it was a good, but not great year. Still, these 17 shows had real staying power and lasting influence. I’m grateful that in NYC, we still have so much to see. As I said a few posts back, I live in mortal fear of missing a great show- Like all those I missed this year because I never knew about them, and still don’t.

As I look back on 2015, the Idea of great Art is what lingers in the mind, inspires, even instructs. The experience, talent and creativity of a great Artist speaks to the highest & best of mankind, in ways the rest of us can, perhaps, relate to, learn from, and even aspire to. As Mr. Pousette-Dart cosmically said-

In these times of so much senseless hatred, violence and the worst of human kind on display, we need this more than ever.

*Soundtrack for this post is “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?” from the 2015 album I listened to the most, “Hamilton– Original Broadway Cast Recording, by Lin-Manuel Miranda.

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Remember- Charlie Chaplin, Hitchcock, Fellini, Orson Welles, Akira Kurosawa, Ingmar Bergman or Stanley Kubrick, among others, never won an Oscar for Best Director! I rest my case. ↩
as is said on the audio tour, #508 ↩

Yoko Ono & Linda McCartney- Out Of The Long And Winding Shadows

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

In NYC there are so many shows going on at any given moment, it’s often possible to find strange, not so strange, and/or enlightening connections among the completely randomly scheduled Art Show bedfellows, and I love exploring them! Recently, there were shows of the Art of two of the Beatles spouses up at the same time- with a show of the work of Linda McCartney, and her and Paul’s daughter, Mary McCartney’s photographs Uptown at the Gagosian Bookstore Gallery, and a double show of 3 new works by Yoko Ono in Chelsea (the same 3 pieces were on view in 2 galleries). To boot, she also took out a full page ad in the Village Voice this past week…about crying.

Village Voice, January 6, 2016

When I was a kid Asian women, not named Anna May Wong, were seen as quiet, demure, even submissive by most people in the West.

Then along came Yoko Ono on the arm of John Lennon.

“Every man has a woman who loves him
In rain or shine or life or death
If he finds her in this lifetime
He will know when he presses his ear to her breast”*

At first, she seemed quiet, too. She was omnipresent. She appeared to be John’s shadow. But that was mostly because we weren’t familiar with her Art. Most people still aren’t. They took one listen to her music and that was as far as they went.

Art has long been the Beatles “dirty little secret.” People forget, (or would like to), that Paul McCartney paints, John Lennon drew, and had attended the Liverpool College of Art, and both of their famous spouses, among others not famous, are established Artists in their own right. People seemingly didn’t want to know about anything other than the Beatle’s music. Yet, even a casually close look at the Beatles accomplishment shows they were eternally trying to push the envelope creatively. They aspired to “more” than pop music. Just listen to “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” and “Strawberry Fields Forever” back to back. They aspired to be Artists, and they succeeded more than any other “popular music” group in history, though not in everyone’s mind. Their more “chancier” creations, like the film “Magical Mystery Tour,” which was years ahead of it’s time, got mixed, even bad reviews. Many didn’t get George’s interest in Indian music, and on and on. It was almost like people were saying “shut up and play yer guitar,” to quote Frank Zappa.

Yet all the while, these two Beatles women kept at their craft and followed their own creative voices. Think it’s an accident two Beatles married them? Think again.

In the case of Yoko- She received a lot of denigration, and worse, from a public who have virtually no experience with the kind of Art she makes, on top of the abuse she received for being “the reason” the Beatles broke up (as absurd as that was). It often seemed like John was one of the few who appreciated her creativity during his lifetime,

“Every woman has a man who loves her
Rise or fall of her life and in death
If she finds him in this life time
She will know when she looks into his eyes”*

It’s already 35 years since John tragically left us way too soon. Still, Yoko has not only survived that horrid death, and all the rest I just mentioned, and carried on, continuously, with her art, her music, her messages, and being her indomitable self.

Artists gonna Art, I say. Her stature continues to rise.

I think she’s one of the most courageous Artists, and women, of our time. Sure, having money no doubt helps, but I bet she still would have kept on keeping on and made her own way, as she was doing before she met John. I bet John would agree and that’s part of why there was “John & Yoko” to begin with.

Linda’s work is well known, well respected and rightly so. Along with Annie Liebovitz, she was one of the first important female rock photo-journalists, even before she became Mrs. Paul McCartney. Oh, yeah…She got a fair bit of grief about that, too. Then, he put her in Wings! HA! (Sing it with me now- “Every woman has a man who loves her…”, above.) Some of her most well-known photos are on display, and available for purchase at prices up to 10,000.00. Right along side are her & Paul’s daughter, Mary’s photos, which are entirely unknown to me. If they had taken down all the title cards, removed the iconic shots among Linda’s, and you walked in without knowing which work was by who- Linda’s or Mary’s, you’d never know. That’s how amazingly symbiotic the eyes of the two photographers are. They see as one.

Linda & Mary & Brian & Keith & Kate & Paul

Walking out, and I say this with nothing but respect, it really felt like Linda had never passed away. That her work continues. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

In Chelsea, Yoko’s 3 works (“Stone Piece,” “Line Piece,” “Mend Piece”), with the overall title “The Riverbed,” are beautifully conceived, and largely left to the viewing public to realize. Yes, that’s right- you get to help Yoko realize her Artwork. How cool is that? Her notes say-“RIVERBED is over the river in-between life and death…” I’ve reproduced the rest-

Line Piece.

Entrance to “Mend Piece,” with work table and display shelves inside.

It reads- “Someone, somewhere in the world loves you”…”It’s me.”

Parts of the Earth, Mended, with Love.

I watched people lose themselves interacting and creating with the materials provided- string, nails, hammers, scissors and rock in one room at each show, and a pile of broken china, glue, tape, markers on a table with chairs in another room at each location. The participants were of all ages, sexes and races. The shelves for “Mend Piece” in both galleries were stocked full of “reconstructions.” The string “webs” of “Line Piece” were so intricate that they required careful stooping and straddling to navigate the rooms. I came away feeling that Yoko is leaving a legacy among the young, like the Beatles did. This is in addition to the legacy she is creating as an Artist, a female Artist at that, and as a person.

Also, in these shows, she’s breaking down the walls of “What is Art?” and letting everyone in. Art lies in the idea. The Artist is the person realizing it. As such we are all capable of being Artists. And? Art can heal- yourself, even the world!

How beautiful is that?

John Lennon is STILL proud of her. Hopefully now, finally, the rest of us know how right he was about her.

Since she signs everything “I love you,” which is always nice to hear, I’ll reciprocate, since she probably likes hearing it, too-

I love you, too, Yoko.

There…a little piece of the Earth mended. With Love…and Art. Imagine…

*-Soundtrack for this post is “Every Man Has A Woman Who Loves Him” by Yoko Ono, from Double Fantasy and published by Sony/ATV Music Publishing Co.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

“Give Me The Hamilton Lottery, Or Give Me Death!”

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

It’s 25 degrees, but I’m back. This is my fourth try to win the darn Hamilton Lottery. You know, the mew Broadway show that has become and instant phenomenon? As I said here, one I don’t see ending any time soon. Win, as in being one of 10 people who get a chance to buy two front row tickets for $10.00, each. Say what you say. What? The otherwise CHEAPEST ticket for tonite is $750.00.

I’m standing at the very end of this line. It stretches some 500 people long two-thirds of the way east down West 46th Street. See that Scientology sign way down the street on the left? The Richard Rogers Theater is directly across the street from it. That’s where I have to get to to get that little piece of paper.

That’s what all these people are freezing their butts off for. A little slip of paper about 2 inches square.

On it, you put your name. Then, you put it in the famous bucket on the famous table and you wait.

Give Me Lottery, Or Give Me Death! “Watch out for that van, people. We’re STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF WEST 46th STREET!”

And you freeze your butt off some more, WHILE STANDING IN THE STREET (“Keep the sidewalks clear,” they continuously bull-horn.) before they announce the 10 winners two hours before curtain.

I’ve never seen anything like this. This is as New York as New York gets right now.

Then, you don’t hear your name called, so you walk home unable to feel your fingers. Two pairs of gloves be damned.

and come back and try yet again. Attempt #5. (Later, you will also lose the $1.5 BILLION Powerball.) Cheer up!- “How lucky we are to be alive right now, in the Greatest City in the World!”* remember?

All… to be “in the room where it happens. The room where it happens.”*

Oh…what I go through for Art.

They say “Winning the Hamilton lottery is a spiritual experience.”

Some say the same thing about Scientology.

I may never know that firsthand about either.

*-Soundtrack for this post is “The Room Where It Happens” from, oh, you know….by Lin-Manuel Miranda

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

The 20th Century Is Officially Over- R.I.P. Pierre Boulez

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (*- unless otherwise credited)

That was my first thought on hearing that the composer and incomparable interpreter of 20th Century Music, Pierre Boulez, former Music Director of the New York Philharmonic, from 1971-77, had passed earlier today, only months after his 90th Birthday celebration. He took a ton of grief for programming 20th Century Music at the NY Phil back in the 70’s but he opened up the ears and minds of countless listeners who became lifelong fans, like me. If you were struggling with the “extended tonality” of, or looking to get a toehold into, the Music of modern composers like Varese, Messiaen (who he studied with), Bartok, Schoenberg, Berg or even Stravinsky, Boulez’ interpretations were often the ones that, finally, opened their doors for you. He brought more pure excitement to these works than anyone had. He seemed to also have uncanny insights into them, perhaps because he knew some of these composers personally, and perhaps because he grew up in Europe after the First and during the Second World War, he understood what those other European Composers had experienced first hand.

The Hammer of The Master takes up parts of 2 of my shelves. He may be gone, his legacy will endure.

More than anyone else I can think of, including Glenn Gould, he forged my love of 20th Century Music, and I will always be grateful to him for that. His recordings- ALL of them- sit on my shelves and are continually rotated on my listening devices.

But, there is more to his legacy than his state of the art recordings of 20th Century Music. Much more.

His recordings of the 19th Century French literature- especially Debussy, Ravel & Berlioz, remain benchmarks. As time went on, he added a number of non-Frenchmen, like Mahler, to them, in what are don’t-miss performances. His choice as conductor for the annual Wagner-fest at Bayreuth in 1976, the Centennial of Wagner’s birth, caused a storm of protest, but resulted in, perhaps, the greatest and most memorable modern Cycle of “The Ring” Operas we have. I think as time goes on his recordings of all of these 19th Century works will be regarded the way his 20th Century performances are. After all, there aren’t many conductors who were also great composers who conducted as much in the Stereo & Digital ages as Pierre Boulez, and Leonard Bernstein. Hearing composers conduct the work of others has, and will continue to have, lasting historical importance.

Beyond conducting, Pierre Boulez was also one of the most important composers of the post Second World War era. His Music has already made inroads on to concert programs around the world, even without him being personally involved in the program (he basically “retired” a few years back as health issues kept him from conducting). His “Le marteau sans maitre” (The Hammer without a Master) is, perhaps, his most well known work. You can hear in its entirety here. His Piano Sonatas are regularly performed and recorded. They are parts of a legacy that appear likely to continue and endure, especially given the countless students and younger Musicians he taught or directly influenced.

In some ways, it’s tempting to think of him as Contemporary Music’s European Leonard Bernstein, who I’m sure he knew personally, and who he followed at the New York Phil as Music Director. Their own Music couldn’t be more different, though, Lenny’s work seem to get a bit “darker” later. Perhaps, Boulez had a subtle influence on him as well? Probably not.

Even beyond all of this, Boulez founded the French Music organization, IRCAM, which includes a wonderful group for performances of contemporary Music called the Ensemble InterContemporain (a chamber sized ensemble), and personally conducted them in many memorable performances and recordings. They continue their unique and important mission. IRCAM was a founding part of the renowned Pompidou Center in Paris.

Surely, France will honor Boulez as one of their Musical giants. Along with Berlioz, Debussy & Ravel, he has earned a place right along side his Master, the brilliant Olivier Messiaen, in French Musical history.

For the rest of the world, though, when people look back and want to hear the Music of any 20th Century composer who’s work he recorded, and want to hear it in definitive performances ¹, as they say, they will need look no further than the recordings of Pierre Boulez. When you think about it, that’s a monumental thing to say.

And so I say, 20th Century Music is now, Officially, over.

Long may it be played.

*-Soundtrack for this post is “Le marteau sans maitre,” The Hammer without a Master, by Pierre Boulez. I am, however, posting the following performance of what is my favorite classical work, Bela Bartok’s “Concerto For Orchestra,” conducted by Pierre Boulez in concert in 2003, in Memorium, and to say “Thank you” for turning me on to it, and countless other masterpieces-

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

Stravinsky, fortunately, recorded extensively conducting his own Music, and those recordings are certainly essential as well. ↩

Jean Shepherd: The Ghost of Christmas Present

Written by Kenn Sava (Photographers unknown)

Even as a kid, I was usually alone. It was, and still is, hard to find those who share your interests in Art & Music. (NighthawkNYC.com is my way of reaching out to them now.) Art came first, Music came to me later. Still, early on I had a small radio I used to keep under my pillow at night cause I was supposed to go to sleep earlier than I wanted.

Cough.

I can’t really remember most of what I was listening to then, besides hearing R.F.K. get shot on a live broadcast from LA, but I became good at turning its small round tuner dial under my pillow without being able to see it, switching from station to station by guesstimating the distance the wheel had to be moved. All of that switching ended shortly after 11pm one lonely Saturday night.

That dial had found a program with no music. Just the sound of one guy talking. The first thing that struck me- What a voice he had! It turned out he was telling a story.

Shep in full effect. Casting a spell as only he could on his “Night People.”.

I listened.

And, I listened.

I kept listening. I was mesmerized.

I’d never heard anyone like him. I still haven’t. I’m STILL listening to him. That little radio has grown up to become my iPhone, where I listen to him now.

The stories came in a seemingly never ending stream, one upon the other, night after night. Only rarely was one repeated, and that’s the center piece of this piece. Many of them, as I’d come to discover, featured a recurring group of characters- his friends- Flick, Schwarz, Bruner, his younger brother, Randy, and the rest, with classic names like Ludlow “Lud” Kissel, Ollie Hopnoodle, Josephine Cosnowski, his mom and ESPECIALLY his dad, and their relatives and other neighborhood kids in the 1940’s and 1950’s, in Hohman (nee Hammond), Indiana, then on to his days in the army, stories from today based on seemingly inane, everyday events or triggers.

Such was the world of a man named Jean.

Jean Shepherd.

Known to his fans as “Shep.” Years later he became immortal, though it’s still a bit of a secret, much to my frustration. As my gift to you this Christmas, I’ll let you in on it-

The classic movie, A Christmas Story, is HIS story!

He wrote it. He narrates it. He appears in a scene in the movie. It’s a film that’s been seen to death in 24 hour marathons already, and will most likely be shown for as long as movies are watched.

Shep, left, appears in a bit part in A Christmas Story- HIS story, which he also narrates, as only he can.

It began as a story in Playboy Magazine, home of all things Christmas, called “Duel In The Snow.” He won their annual best story award for it. Then, it was published in his book appropriately titled, In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash. Due to overwhelming request, it became a “tradition” on Shepherd’s WOR Radio show that he would read it on Christmas Eve. Thank the universe someone recorded it, so now you can actually hear him perform it on December 24, 1974, 41 years ago tonite, here.

Can you imagine what it must have been like to hear Mark Twain, or Dickens read one of their stories?

For me, however, it’s a shame that more people don’t know who he is, what else he’s done, or know that he is, perhaps, the greatest American storyteller of the 20th Century.

But, “Shep” has not gone completely unnoticed through the years (he passed away in 1999). His influence lives! No less than Jerry Seinfeld has said that Jean Shepherd was responsible for forming “ my entire comedic sensibility.” Heavy praise, indeed. Steely Dan’s great lyricist Donald Fagen, apparently, was one of Shep’s “Night People,” as he called his listeners, devotes a chapter to Shep in his first book, Eminent Hipsters, and says=

“I started looking back at some of the things that used to inspire me as a kid, including some of Shep’s old shows, now available on the Internet. Hearing them almost a half-century down the line has been a trip. Despite the tendencies I’ve already mentioned (plus the gaffes one might expect from a wild man like Shep ad-libbing before the age of political correctness), much of the stuff is simply amazing: The guy is a dynamo, brimming with curiosity and ideas and fun. Working from a few written notes at most, Shepherd is intense, manic, alive, the first and only true practitioner of spontaneous word jazz. “ ¹

This doesn’t surprise me- Fagen’s first solo album, “The Nightly,” seems to be a concept album about a late night DJ who spins jazz and talks, as is depicted on its cover. Hmmm…very similar to one Jean Shepherd. He’s, apparently, not a big fan of Shep the man, but I’ve learned to separate Art from life, even with artists like Donald Fagen, and I never met Shep.

Channeling Shep?

A Christmas Story is only the tip of the Jean Shepherd iceberg. He was extraordinarily prolific in too many ways to count. Shep wrote stories for magazines, was one of the first writers at the Village Voice, wrote at least four books, preformed about 5,000 hours on radio, performed live in clubs and elsewhere, released 6 Lp’s (and did one with Charles Mingus), created a series of audio tapes.

If you’re new to Shep or want to see more after seeing A Christmas Story, it’s little known that he made a number of other films besides that are traded on places like archive.com among fans. His Great American Fourth of July and Other Disasters, is for me, every bit as good as ACS. See if you agree-

He also did a 13 Part series for PBS called Jean Shepherd’s America, two seasons of Shepherd’s Pie for NJ PBS, and a documentary on the history of his beloved Chicago White Sox, who would FINALLY win the World Series in 2005, five years after he passed, and the first time they won since 1917, four years before he was born!

His voice has become a very familiar sound in my life, his outlook, the way he remembers details that are so familiar to kids, yet unique to his experience, and how very New York this midwesterner became, with his jazz sensibilities and ability to free wheel with the best of them on his live radio show that was broadcast from the Limelight in Greenwich Village for a while on Saturday Nights. Shep nailed what it is to be alive in America in the last half of the 20th Century, from childhood on, and he did so with style, smarts, wit, irony and…that voice. Above ALL of this, he remains one of the only people who are continually described as a “raconteur.” I’ve always been jealous of that.

The Real Santa Claus will never be known. The man who is the creator of what has become one of contemporary America’s most beloved Christmas traditions should be. Still, in spite of all of this, and in spite of the joy he gives every year to viewers of A Christmas Story, his name is rarely spoken. He’s become a Ghost. The Ghost of Christmas present, and Christmas to come when his movie will be played yet again countless times. I’m hoping this Christmas Eve people will take a break from the movie to look him up and check him out.

For me, and many others growing up, as I continue to discover, Jean Shepherd was “the voice in the dark.” For millions of others now and not yet born, ACS is the most likely way they’ll discover him. It’s left to fans like me, to pull a coat here and there. It’s left to word of mouth. If you smiled watching A Christmas Story, say a silent “Excelsior!,” his motto, and pass his name along to someone else.

The author of “A Christmas Story” was, perhaps, the greatest American Storyteller since Mark Twain. Art & Culture are two of the pillars of any culture or civilization. They don’t only live in the past, they have a real role to play in reminding us who we are, where we came from and inspiring those who are coming next.

Pay Shep Forward.

“Yes, Santa smoked Camels…just like my Uncle Charles.”

Excelsior!, Shep. Thanks, and Merry Christmas, man.

*-Soundtrack for this post is “Bahn Frei” (Fast Track) by Eduard Strauss, Jean Shepherd’s theme song for his WOR Radio show, as performed by Arthur Fiedler & The Boston Pops Orchestra, in the fastest version I’ve ever heard of it, and now, the only one I can listen to of it. If it weren’t for Shep the name of Eduard Strauss would be as forgotten today as Jean Shepherd’s should never be.

To experience more of Shep, the easiest way is to do a “Jean Shepherd” search on youtube.com. Also check out the link I posted above for archive.com. There are also fan created sites, like flicklives.com. There are sellers who offer collections of his radio shows, films and TV shows on CD/DVD on eBay, taking advantage of the fact that there is no estate watching over them. Unfortunately, for some of the rarest Shep, this is the only way to experience them. Since much of his work was done for PBS, I call out to them to re-broadcast it!

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2008/12/the_man_who_told_a_christmas_story.2.html ↩

13 Years At The Metropolitan Museum – Part Two – The Light

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

This is Part Two of my ongoing series, “Thirteen Years At The Metropolitan Museum.” Part One is here.

Her Aim Is True. With an arrow to my heart, Saint-Gaudens’ Diana points the way to the undiscovered land.

It happens more than I’d like.

I stop into the bookshop every time I go to The Met (TM), either on my way in, or out. As these 13 years have gone on, unfortunately, it’s become one of the few decent art book stores left. They have a good stock of current and new art books and, of course, a very good supply of Met Museum Publications. Nothing old or out of print, still, I always find something of interest, either about whatever artist I’m currently fixated on (there’s always at least one), or someone I’m only discovering through a show, or right there on their shelves.

My apartment. Almost. No, it’s The Met’s Bookstore.

Then, it happened.

I picked up this heavy hardcover called Portraits By Ingres. Ingres. Yes. There are a few of his portraits upstairs in the European Paintings Gallery and an amazing one, which has become my very favorite painting in The Museum, in the Robert Lehman Collection Galleries. I start looking through the book. There, on page after page after page are THE most incredible drawings I may have ever seen! What? I’m amazed. Astounded. The line! The delicacy. He knows exactly what to leave out and still, somehow, capture the essence of his subject’s face, like in Chinese or Japanese painting, but more so. He’s using graphite. No washes, no ink, no nothing. The most amazingly beautiful lines I’ve ever seen on paper.

How did I not know about this?

Since the book is old, it’s on sale. How old is it? I look at the publishing data. “Published on the occasion of Portraits by Ingres at the Metropolitan Museum October 5, 1999 through January 2, 2000” (You can actually download it now, direct from TM(!), here, for free.)

UGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You mean, this was A SHOW?

AND? I MISSED IT?????

Oh my god… ….. ………….

And, that’s how I discovered THE WORST feeling I ever get when I to go TM. While Portraits By Ingres is the “big one that got away,” unfortunately, it’s happened more than once. And that’s only in the recent past.

And? Look what I found recently on the back of an article I saved in the NY Times from 1999. History tugged my sleeve…and now mocks me.

Since then, I live with a terrible fear of missing a great show. Why? When a show is over? It’s gone…forever. It “lives on”, but to a much lesser extent in exhibition catalogs (thank goodness!) and through websites, online videos, maybe an app or two, but that’s it. The catalogs may or may not have all the works that were in the show and almost certainly won’t have them in their original sizes (maybe, one day, e-catalogs will, but the resolution of art e-books today is nowhere near there). Almost never are shows documented with a film or documentary, the way Leonardo: da Vinci: Painter At The Court Of Milan was.

In fact, I only discovered “the show of the Century,” Leonardo da Vinci: Painter @ CoM 3 days before it ended at the National Gallery, London. (It was put together by Luke Tyson, who I wrote about in Part One of this series, who is now working at TM.) I jumped on an over night flight and went straight to the National Gallery, without a ticket for the sold-out show, minutes before doors opened on its very last day. I got in (a story unto itself. The NY Giants won the Super Bowl that same night. Something crazy to watch in London). It’s the first and last time 9 of Leonard’s incomparable 17 (or so) paintings were being shown in one place. And, possibly, the first time ever both version of the “Virgin of the Rocks” were being shown together- in the same room (I had to take a step aside and pinch myself in utter amazement when I walked in to that gallery), and so much more as you can see on the checklist, here, including, astonishingly, a full size copy of The Last Supper done in 1520, shortly after the original had been painted! To think…If I hadn’t happened to accidentally stumble on that documentary at 3am on PBS, I would have missed it!

So, impelled by this fear, I have since designed each visit to TM around their exhibition calendar- I go and see whatever’s closing soonest, if I haven’t seen it already.

This has paid off, for me, in uncountable and undreamt of ways.

I have discovered countless artists I never knew about, who have enriched my life and my knowledge of art history in so many ways I can’t even count including Sanford Gifford (besides being a brilliant underknown member of the Hudson River School, he was also a Met Museum Founder in 1880), Henrick Goltzius (who overcame a fall into a fire that disfigured his drawing hand but turned that to his advantage becoming a graphic artist, perhaps, only equalled in the north by Durer), Thomas Eakins, Alexander McQueen, Christo & Jeanne-Claude (who I got to meet right before The Gates), Philip Guston, Bernini, Louis Comfort Tiffany, Chasseriau, Ellsworth Kelly, Girodet, Sean Kelly, Degas, Thomas Hart Benton, Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux, Cezanne, Antonio Canova, Liu Dan in the revelatory Ink Art in China show, Faberge, William Kentridge, Balthus, Paul Klee, Neo Rauch, among individual artists I “discovered” at Special Exhibitions at TM since 2002! Some I had heard of or knew a little about but I “discovered” them here.

As someone obsessed with Art History who draws a little bit, these artists had/have a huge and ongoing influence on me. I learned so much from all of them. They have helped me refine my focus. Before 1999 I was solely interested in modern and contemporary art. After seeing the Mark Rothko Show at the Whitney in 1998, I started to draw. Then, I realized I needed to go back through the entire history of art and learn from the masters who could draw. That led me to TM. TM led me to “the Light.”

This is not to mention artists I’ve discovered by wandering the galleries, like Ingres, Stuart Davis, Tiepolo, Remington, Caravaggio, Goya, Yves Tanguay and Juan Gris among them.

I’ve seen the light.

Even now, today, September 18, 2015, I returned from TM after spending a large part of last weekend there for the last few days of China, with a fresh revelation- George Caleb Bingham. Bingham. Hmm… I know of him though the one intriguing painting that’s been continually on display in the American Wing. It’s a work you walk by and always draws you closer. You ponder it and are left thinking. “It’s interesting…different…powerful and real. Bingham, huh? I don’t know him.” There’s no other by him work on view to reinforce the feeling that “I really need to look into him.” Well, maybe he was a one hit wonder.

23 year old Bingham’s Self Portrait beckons us in to “discover” his unique light.

It turns out, he was far from it. After seeing his about to close show, Navigating the West featuring his River paintings and drawings, I came away struck by an artist that seems to be something of a missing link. Someone who fills in a gap before Thomas Eakins. He’s a master of the natural pose,while making that pose always seem uniquely American, a powerful draughtsman, with a real gift for setting the stage in his compositions, which often feature beautifully out of focus backgrounds years before cameras showed such things, and in ways I haven’t seen many other artists do this well. Ever since Leonardo artists have put in very realistic backgrounds, often consisting of modern towns or locations regardless of the time period being depicted (which no doubt charmed contemporaries, but always struck me as being weird and bizarrely out of place in the story). Bingham’s rarely depict a recognizable location (according to the catalog), but they add to the air of authenticity that he is trying to present more convincingly than some of his Renaissance predecessors. Interestingly, Bingham was influenced by the Hudson River School after his first trip east, and his early landscapes show their trademarked lush and thickly detailed flora and fauna. As time went on, he paid more and more attention to the focus of his work- his characters. Carefully working and reworking them in masterful preparatory drawings, he was able to simply transfer them to his canvas and then make sure that everything else supported them, or they got left out. He became an editor as much as he was a draughtsman. The Met has prepared a fascinating short analysis of the process Bingham used in creating his masterpiece, “Fur Traders Descending The Missouri,” The Met’s painting that first caught my eye. He was downright ruthless in his editing, down to the smallest detail, creating a work of sublime economy that I wonder if it in turn influenced another masterpiece of American River art, Thomas Eakins’ Max Schmitt In A Single Scull, which happens to call TM its home, too.

His light runs the full range from soft to hard, and is never more masterful than in Fur Traders. The foreground water, in particular. Then there is a pair of masterful, yet entirely different, self portraits, one, early, of the artist in his 20’s, the other done 2 years before his passing. They speak volumes about his growth and the evolution of his technique and style. The early one is a marvel of seamlessly smooth skin coloring and belies a style of its own. It actually reminds me of early Ingres in this regard. The face just pops from the canvas 180 years later, and I found myself marveling at how few colors he accomplished this with. Ah, but then a closer look reveals his mastery of economical blending. The overall effect is both brilliant and unforgettable. All we see is his torso. No arms. No hands. Its all in back, except for the collar of his white shirt, and his face. He looks out at us with an expression that says “Yes, I may be young, but I’m already THIS good, and I’m taking no prisoners from here on.” And? he didn’t. The late self portrait was done by an entirely different artist, one who had learned nuance, who’s craft had vastly deepened and who wasn’t afraid of truth or age. Interestingly, he paints himself in the act of drawing. After seeing the many drawings on view, it’s a tribute well earned. His drawings hold every bit of their own even when viewed right next to the paintings they preceded, including his masterpieces, like TM’s own “Fur Traders Descending The Missouri” from about 1845, the work I had seen before in the American Wing-

Bingham’s Fur Traders Descending The Missouri. The work that drew me to his light.

Everything about Bingham’s river paintings (and the drawings/studies that led to their creation) says “American,” in exactly the same way as Mark Twain’s writing does. From the attire to the attitude, all done with masterful attention to detail and shadow, THIS is American art for the people. The show is devoid of portraits of the well-to-do, the famous, or the powerful and is, instead, populated by the people who were trying to survive in a new land while helping their new country survive in the process. Is it any wonder that the school children of Missouri took up a state wide collection to help the State buy (and thereby preserve) a collection of Bingham’s masterful, iconic drawings? While being an act they all can be eternally proud of, it shows those kids had better taste in art than some of the dealers in Chelsea do today.

While not a big show, it’s a very deep show, and since its doors are closing for good on Sunday at 5:15pm, I’m going to be scrambling to see it one or two more times before it does.

Afterall? I well know what happens then.

These wonderful work will go back to where they belong, possibly never to be seen together again.

The light will go off in those galleries Sunday night.

But, it will remain “on” inside me for the rest of my life.

The second best thing I’ve gotten out of going to The Met so often for 13 years is Discovery.

Hark! A Met Angel Beckons me to the Light. To not hear her call is my loss.

*-Soundtrack for this post is “The Shape Of Jazz To Come” by Ornette Coleman, 1959. I chose this to honor Ornette, who led us into many new frontiers of music, like TM has with Art, since he recently passed. He was exceedingly nice to me, a complete stranger to him, the one time I had the privilege of meeting him.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

“Look around. Look at how lucky we are to be alive right now.”*

Written by Kenn Sava

“Hats off, Gentlemen…A Genius,” the composer Robert Schumann famously said after hearing Frederic Chopin for the first time.

A “Genius.”

In Chopin’s case? Schumann nailed it. More often? It’s a word that is savagely abused in most of the realms of life it’s used in. I HATE throwing that word around. Life has shown me that, unfortunately, there are very, very, VERY few geniuses. Personally, out of all the musicians I’ve known and worked with, all the artists and heck, the people I’ve known, only 3 were geniuses, I think, and one was my dad. Jaco Pastorius and Thomas Chapin were the other two. ¹

Lin Manuel Miranda is someone I’ve never met, but I’ve had my ear on him since he stopped me cold when I first heard him perform at the White House Poetry Jam in 2009. I was tuned in to hear Esperanza Spalding, and then, out of the blue…WHAM!

WHO is Lin-Manuel Miranda??

Looking at his classic performance, again, I can see I wasn’t alone in being surprised and delighted. Over a million have watched it since. Accompanied only by a piano, it’s fresh, new, and brilliant on every level. In his introduction, Mr Miranda says that he “is working on a hip-hop album, a concept album about someone I think embodies hip-hop, Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton.”

Seriously? Alexander “Face-of-the-10-Dollar-Bill” Hamilton? The man who’s grave I’ve walked right past countless times Downtown at Trinity Church, and was right in the shadow of the World Trade Center? I’ve always respected him as much as any Founding Father, but, I admit, I didn’t know his whole story. Well? It turns out he lived Uptown- in Harlem. Who knew?

“Revolution’s happening in New York”*

Little did I suspect that 6 years later this “concept album” would be the phenomenon, Hamilton which is not only taking Broadway, (after opening at the Public Theater in February), by storm (It’s currently sold out for a year- if you hurry, you can get tickets for September 16, 2016, and take your chances Mr. Miranda will still be starring in it then), it has revolutionized music, theater and musical theater in the process. In spite of the fact that Mr. Miranda and his team had already won a Tony Award for Best Musical for “In The Heights,” I don’t think many saw this coming.

“History is happening in Manhattan
and we just happen to be
in the greatest city in the world.”*

True to history (being based on Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton), and full of fresh poetry that bursts with the cleverness of the finest hip-hop and wonderful songwriting, it’s both relatable and educational while bringing Hamilton’s story full force into the 21st Century. The shock of melding the life of a Founding Father from some 240 years ago with that most urban of contemporary music, hip-hop, is something that sounds like a recipe for disaster worthy of The Producers Bialystok & Bloom. That the results will win almost anyone over immediately is the secret of its charm, and belies one facet of Mr. Miranda’s talent- He’s a visionary who also happens to be one very talented writer, songwriter and performer. This vision has succeeded on Broadway, no less, and now? Hamilton is poised to be a cultural phenomenon the likes of which the theater hasn’t seen since “West Side Story.” It’s both a piece of American culture and American history, in more ways than one that results in an irresistible piece of Americana that I could see being produced all over the country, internationally, in schools, and eventually, on film. If you don’t know about it yet, you will. 60 Minutes just featured it. It’s the kind of work that not only pulls audiences out of their seats, it’s the kind that will inspire countless young people to act, sing, write, create, and maybe even get into politics. (Gulp.)

“Look at where you started
the fact that you’re alive is a miracle.”*

In September, Mr. Miranda was named a MacArthur Foundation fellow, receiving one of 24 “genius grants” for 2015. I’ve wondered about some of their choices in the past. I’ve wished they’d chosen up and coming talent who are in there fighting to survive and hold onto their integrity in the process. (I’ve been secretly voting for the brilliant pianist/composer Craig Taborn for the past 10 years. Check out his “Junk Magic.”) Mr. Miranda is 35, and he’s already “made it.” It’s terribly hard being an artist of any kind in this country, so far be it of me to have a problem with him getting some extra help. He’s “giving back”/donating part of his “genius grant” to Graham Windham, which helps children in need, and was founded by Hamilton’s wife, Elizabeth in 1806.

I’m not ready to call him a “genius” yet. If he keeps it up, he may prove himself to be one. But now? He’s got my full attention, and at the very least, I recommend you check out the Hamilton cast album, in lieu of paying a scalper $400. for the cheapest seats on Broadway.

Taking my own advice, but getting a cast signed copy. Well? It’s history, after all.

We could sure use someone to come along and be that “next one” after Sondheim to pick up the mantel and write great, creative musicals that take musical theater further, (with all due respect to Matt Stone & Trey Parker and Book of Mormon. It remains to be seen if that’s a one shot deal, or not). Maybe it will be Lin-Manuel Miranda. Right now, it’s important and groundbreaking that with Hamilton, he’s taking hip-hop somewhere it’s never been- into “legit” musical theater, and showing the world that it has arrived as a serious musical style in American (and world) culture, as well as broadening its possibilities.

“Who lives, who dies, who tells your story”* (The closing words)

I can only imagine what Robert Schumann experienced when he heard Chopin, but he expressed it in words for the Ages. There can be no doubt that Alexander Hamilton could never have imagined it, but Mr. Miranda has now, finally, told his story for the Ages. For me, I rejoice in the fact that there are new artists making great work NOW- “geniuses,” or not, time will tell. This minute, as his song says, “How lucky we are to be alive right now.” In “The greatest City in the world.”*

That’s what matters.

*-Soundtrack for this post “The Schuyler Sisters,” “That Would Be Enough” and “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story,” by Lin-Manuel Miranda from Hamilton.

This post is dedicated to Kitty, Jane, their Mom and Family.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Art & Books may be found here. Music here and here.

I called Wayne Shorter one, here, but I’ve never had the privilege of knowing him. ↩

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“Look around. Look at how lucky we are to be alive right now.”*