It’s Monday

For the billionth time I’ve mislaid my phone. I never had this problem when phones were big and stayed in one place. Dammit. (shakes fist at sky)

I’m still worn out from Saturday’s epic-ish trike ride. (whine snivel)

AND...Jen and I drove down to New Bedford yesterday for gallery hopping only to find all but two galleries closed (mega sigh). We were told that most of New Bedford is still on ‘Winter hours.’ In another month everything will be open on Sundays again.

The first place we hit was the U Mass Dartmouth Masters of Fine Art thesis exhibit. It was tremendously, surprisingly disappointing. U Mass Dartmouth’s art department has a very good reputation so my expectations were tuned up for more than the, mostly, amateur hour stuff on display. I honestly expected a significantly higher overall quality, greater sophistication and better execution.

There were a few stand outs though.
Allison Elia’s nude with apples buzzing around the head grabbed me. My only, slight, grouse, is that I would’ve liked to see the figure’s coloring more mottled or even just starkly one color. Maybe a gloss versus chalky finish? More contrast between the apples and the figure somehow. It’s just a quibble. I really like the piece.

Robert Greene’s man of sticks, standing against the wall was pretty cool too though I’m generally always a sucker for figurative sculpture, especially one’s dejectedly facing walls. Like Matteo Pugliese’s bronzes. Anthony Gormley’s Reflection II. Kyotaro Hakamata’s installation of brightly striped figures.

And this (at left) -- I didn’t catch the artist’s name and had issues with the execution in general but I LOVE the idea. I imagine a body spontaneously combusting from the ankles up -- only feathers and leaves left in it’s wake.

The only other place we found open was the Arthur Moniz Gallery. Most of the paintings there are done by him -- by Arthur Moniz. In particular, I favor Bass Harbor, Blue Crab Color, Tenacity Nova Scotia and Low Tide-Little Bay.

Gotta say, in my pretentious young days (versus my pretentious middle aged years), I sniffed at this sort of art. It was just SO safe -- trite and dull too! Now though, I can totally see the beauty, the song and poetry of them. I suppose I believed that real art should say something BIG and that very large  bigness should describe pain, alienation and the state of being in this hard, hard world and other heavy duty shit like that.

I understand, finally, why artists paint sea and landscapes. It’s not all about the money, about sales (though that’s a motivator too, of course), it’s also about the tranquil joy to be had gazing at and capturing these inspiring, breath stealing views.

I can see myself, one day perhaps, joining the watercolor seascape ranks though I can’t imagine being able to capture the gleaming, brilliant, stone magnificence.

Who could?