Green Apples, Bowler Hats

Mrs. C and I took some time off to visit the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It's a don't miss. We were last there several years ago. Since then there has been a huge expansion, tripling the exhibition space

The featured show was about the later work of René Magritte.  Some people consider his paintings simple and repetitive, if a bit strange. The audio guide explained how complex the paintings are, challenging the viewer to think about odd juxtapositions and the subtle layers of the seen and unseen.  

It's obvious I like to take pictures of people in museums looking at the art, such as this old favorite.  You have to wonder what what gets through.   
        

Things To See At Moma...

. . . other than the show that has my photo in the book, if not out on the floor. You could look at Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, or not. Or the clothing in the show, ranging from wild to mild. Or one of Louise Bourgeois' spiders. Or one of the museum's escalators that is awfully reminiscent of some of M. C. Escher's work. Or a Dada eye-twister. Fun for the whole family.

Is Fashion Modern? Reflections On Very Minor Fame.

Well, it finally happened. Your humble blogger has one of his photographs published in a book by the mighty Museum of Modern Art in New York. It's the black and white one of St. Louis motorcycle policemen. If you have money to burn, you can buy a copy here.

The show, Is Fashion Modern?, is a review of 111 items of clothing and accessories from the last century, looking at their cultural, social and design significance. (The link may not work after the show closes next January 28.) The museum used my picture in the section on biker jackets. Olivier and I went there last Sunday, where the staff had a copy of the book and a couple of free tickets waiting for me. Had to have him take my picture at the entrance to the exhibit, where a couple of new fans appear to be admiring the work. It's nice to have recognition, even some as small as this. I shoot pictures for the love of it; heaven knows I don't do it for the money.  

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Broadcasting Due To . . . HOLY BLEEP!!!

I got an email yesterday from the Museum of Modern Art in New York (MoMA! MOMA!) asking if they could use this image in a photography exhibition this fall and winter called Is Fashion Modern? Podunk me, in the temple. I think they like the black leather motorcycle jackets. Yet I may swoon.

This was taken at St. Louis' 2008 St. Patrick's Day parade and I sure hope I can find the original. My archive system is pretty sloppy and I'm not sure it's still on a drive somewhere. OMG I hope it is. If I can dig it up we may all have to get together for a party later in the year in my home hood.

UPDATE: I'm still searching through old external hard drives and have not yet found the hi res version of this photo. However, I found the original raw file, which I can re-edit. Looks like a go.         

MoMA

Field trip yesterday to the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan. OMG was the city crowded. I don't remember this from when I was a child and a teen here. The subway line we needed to go from Penn Station to the museum was out of service so we had to walk up 6th Avenue past Radio City Music Hall and the back side of Rockefeller Center.  We could have used a bull whip to get through. Same when we got back to Penn on the way home, when people were emptying out of the city. Penn Station's current incarnation is horribly designed and a few hundred people were trying to press through a single doorway onto the platform for the train to New Jersey. Mrs. C felt in serious danger of being trampled at a couple of points.

I like to take photographs in art museums but there is nothing interesting in photographing the artworks. The fun part is the architecture, people interacting with the art and people taking pictures of the art on their phones. Starry Night, anyone? Or can anyone guess the neighborhood, if that's the right word, in the bottom photo? We've walked through it.

Home tonight.         

My MOMA

.

Here we are, the city so nice they had to name it twice: New York, New York, my home town. A shiver went down my spine in the taxi from Penn Station to our hotel on 3rd Avenue. No place like it on earth.

Our afternoon activity was a visit to the Museum of Modern Art. There were performers in the atrium wearing scarlet clothing with cyan stockings on the women. They used their bodies to spell out three letter words. Go figure.

The big attraction was a huge show of Cindy Sherman's photography. (And you couldn't take any in the exhibit.) All she shoots are pictures of herself in myriad costumes and disguises, adopting characters and telling powerful stories in a single frame.

We will confront the Metropolitan Museum of Art this morning, followed by the Rubin Museum of The Art of The Himalayas. My sister and brother in law are coming in from Jersey tonight to meet us for dinner.