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Exploring Common Ground


The Russian Pavilion, at this year’s Venice Biennale of Architecture, harnessed curiosity to transform a large collection of ordinary archival photographs into something magical.

It’s next time again.

Your work requires you to interact with others. Everyone negotiates in their work in one way or another. What works for you? What secrets have you learned that help you get your ideas across? How do you listen, react and then move forward, especially if you and your colleagues do not see eye to eye? How has your success benefited from your ability to negotiate? Can an architect’s process be of any practical use to the rest of us?

There are many parallels between the careers of architects and filmmakers. Both typically require someone else to fund their projects, both ping pong back and forth between periods of intense solitary concentration and then periods of energetic collaboration, both move from project to project often balancing the demands of several simultaneous engagements, both have the challenges of trying to execute a creative vision that sometimes only they themselves can see. There are also similarities of process. Both often work on long term projects, both have similar phases of “production” and both of their processes require creativity and creative collaboration throughout the lifetime of an evolving final product. It is this concept of creative collaboration that has been on my mind the past several months and part of the reason is the work and approach of architect, David Chipperfield.

The head of Nefertiti has a new home inside Chipperfield’s renovated Neues Museum in Berlin. The twelve year project is a triumph of diplomacy. Photo Copyright © 2012, Candida Höfer, Neues Museum Berlin IX 2009, 180 x 138 cm – 71 x 54.5 in., C-print, gerahmt – framed, courtesy of Johnen Galerie, Berlin.

David Chipperfield recently completed a twelve year project in Berlin. His Neues Museum, is perhaps best known as the new home of a single breathtaking object – the head of Nefertiti. This world famous artifact is sort of a “must see” in Berlin, and has been for many years. On a recent trip to Berlin, we ran in to see her, proudly ensconced in her elegant new room, and what everyone says is completely true. “One of the most admired, and most copied, images from ancient Egypt, and the star exhibit used to market Berlin’s museums.” What is equally true is that her new showplace is one of the most fascinating and effective museum projects in the world. Candida Höfer took evocative fine art photographs of the renovation. See her project shown last Spring at Johnen Galerie in Berlin.

Chipperfield had a (literally) monumental task in Berlin. Many Germans enjoy the virtues of being strong-minded and demanding. I can’t imagine the bureaucratic obstacles he had to climb. But he is incredibly articulate and insightful when it comes to describing one of the hidden aspects of his success with the Neues Museum. This was a project that he had been working on for fully half of his 25 years as an architect. The secret of his success? In a word, he credits, “diplomacy.”

There is a team of people from our office who worked on this for ten years–they were present throughout and got incredible experience, … but especially in the political, the idea of collaboration, not as a process of compromise, but as something fundamental to the realization of ideas. The Neues Museum could not have been realized without first of all making the atmosphere in which we could conduct the conversations. There was a sort of diplomacy that was part of this, but not diplomacy in a decorative way, but diplomacy in terms of how you explain ideas to people and how you hold on to those ideas but, at the same time, how you take on board other opinions, and how you include different aspects. So I think that was our achievement more than anything else.”

Wow! I think this should become an entire course-long semester offered to every architecture school in the country.

Every two years, the world’s best architects come to Venice to showcase their latest projects. This year the theme was particularly fascinating.

Chipperfield was also the curator of this year’s Architecture Biennale in Venice. These shows have been getting better and better and this year, in no small measure because of Mr. Chipperfield’s contributions, it was the best I’ve ever seen. Walking through the Arsenale, the gigantic shipbuilding warehouses in Venice that are the home to part of both the Art and the Architecture Biennales, I was struck by the heavy burden Architecture exhibits must support in such a venue. Architectural projects are really complicated. They don’t lend themselves to the six second rule, (this being the average amount of time most visitors spend in front of an artwork in a museum). Before getting to some of the highlights of this year’s Architecture Biennale, Chipperfield’s fascinating theme of “Common Ground” deserves a closer look.

My process as a filmmaker has greatly improved because of my association with architects. At the beginning of my career, one architect explained that just as his clients did not really understand, and did not really care all that much about how he designed their buildings, most of my clients do not care about how I made the films they commissioned. Clients want to know how they fit in. So, he suggested I make a chart defining my process that highlighted the important intersections with my clients.

Another architect pointed out rich patrons can sometimes be a challenge but often their projects have a better chance of being truly great. He felt it was much more difficult to get good ideas through a committee. He said committees, by design, usually embrace the status quo.

I’ve written about Frank Gehry’s impact upon my process on the Vision section of my website, but that only scratches the surface of the countless things I have had the privilege to learn from him over the years. Another major insight he instilled in me is his enthusiastic enjoyment of the process itself. Easy to do when the project is going great. Tough to remember when you are slogging through the obstacles. When you are building something, it is easy to only focus upon the finished work and ignore the enjoyment of the present task at hand. If you are only living for the final ribbon cutting, you are missing most of your life. What is needed is passion throughout. I also felt this same charming attribute in Chipperfield’s writings and I believe this exuberance shows in their finished buildings.

David Chipperfield and his recently renovated Neues Museum, in Berlin. The trials and tribulations of this project gave him new strategies to “get things done” that are valuable to the rest of us.

Chipperfield adds a new twist to the crucial impact of positive architect/client collaboration. Could the tools of the diplomat; mutual respect, deathless charm, tact, optimism, etc. be employed to build better buildings (or make better movies)? “Architecture doesn’t just happen, it is a coincidence of forces, a conspiracy of requirements, expectations, regulations and, hopefully, visions. It requires collaboration and its success is subject to the quality of that collaboration … If we accept this then we must also accept that good architecture is not just dependent on genius nor can it only be achieved only through confrontation and despite circumstances. Individual talent and creativity depend on and contribute to a rich and complex culture of shared affinities, references and predicaments that give validity to and meaning, not only to architecture but to its place in society.”

Such was his vision for the 2012 Venice Biennale of Architecture. As I walked from exhibit to exhibit I searched for the theme of “Common Ground” and often it was there. This theme is complex, rich and fascinating. There is much more here than “diplomacy.” Here are a few of the projects with particularly interesting ideas.

Peter Markli, a Swiss architect, created this room with Steve Roth. Elegant, elongated, ectomorphic statues blend perfectly with the giant columns in the Arsenale. One of these statues was actually a Giacommetti (but I am not sure which one).  

Peter Markli’s elegant room felt like a gallery of sophisticated sculpture (probably because it was). The sculptor, Hans Josephsohn had just died. He was 92. I subsequently read that one of these sculptures was a Giocometti. What impressed me most was the lighting. The light fixtures were up high out of your line of sight. They were aimed at the old brick walls and dimmed up and down to change the mood as you looked at the figures and thought about how the human form and the columns connected to each other. The relationship of the human form to building design is one of the very first principles of architecture. Vitruvius was perhaps the first to discuss this in his essays about proportion. He felt architectural symmetry and proportion should be consonant with the proportions of a well shaped man. In this case, the form had become elongated, elegant and ectomorphic. With the moody lighting it was if the human body had slowly petrified, dissolving into brick columns that had been in this room since the fifteenth century; Common Ground indeed.

The Architectural firm, FAT, called their truly stunning exhibition an, “Architectural Dopplegängers Research Cluster.” The project was organized by Ines Weizman and provides maybe the most unselfconscious, fun and articulate riff on the theme of Common Ground.

For whatever reason, copying is usually considered to be a bad thing for an architect or an artist. It was refreshing to find copying glorified in a very imaginative exhibit by the folks at FAT, who are based in Britain. They have a beguiling sense of humor and they make their case in a very no nonsense, almost blasé manner. “To FAT, the rhetoric of architectural influence and affinity might be reduced to an apparently banal concept: copying. Instead FAT’s installation reveals copying to be a rich terrain The centrepiece of their exhibition is a large-scale cast of Palladio’s Villa Rotunda, a building from the Veneto that could claim to be the most copied building in architectural history, spawning homages and rip-offs across the globe. FAT’s Museum of Copying also recognizes that copying threatens the mythology of recent architectural production, based on ideas of an author’s originality and individual genius. FAT and their collaborators are relaxed about copying: the sources are out there to plunder, and architecture has always done so in the most direct ways.”

Film has its common ground just like Architecture. The Spaghetti Western is the inspiration for Quentin Tarantino’s new film Django Unchained.

How does all this apply to making movies? The connections are uncanny. In a recent interview Quentin Tarantino described how he learned a very important cinematic lesson from the Spaghetti Western. Tarantino’s sound tracks are always a knockout. He uses music like a character in the story and he does it brilliantly. Fascinating to hear where he learned how to do this. “Let me just say this just for the record: You can’t really do a Spaghetti Western anymore. Spaghetti Westerns were a thing of their time. But one of the big influences that Spaghetti Westerns have had over me cinematically is how they used music and how they bring it to the forefront. There is a part of me that likes to go in from time to time for those big operatic effects. It’s like we’re telling the story and setting everything up, and then there’s the equivalent of what in a musical would be a big dance number or a big musical sequence. I think I did learn that from Italian movies.” I just love this insight and I use it in my own work. I did not pick this up, however, from the Spaghetti Western. I learned it from Stanley Kubrick’s 2001.



The Zaha Hadid section of the Architecture Biennale is always a visual treat. By suspending her models in the space you not only felt as though you were looking at gorgeous spaceships but you also were more able to imagine yourself in front of her buildings.

Zaha Hadid’s firm always makes a powerful statement at the Venice Biennale of Architecture. This year, developmental models based on the work of German architect, Frei Otto, helped to explain a few of the inspirations for her fluid structural forms.

Zaha Hadid’s installation had particular resonance for me because of the climatic sequence in a documentary TELOS did about Frank Gehry. In this sequence, Gehry explained how he made computer models of the folds of waxed red velvet fabric to create one of his most arresting designs. He was not, and is not alone in this investigation. Frei Otto, (who did a beautiful roof structure for a major pavilion at the 1967 Montreal Expo and the roof of the Munich Olympic arena in 1972), uses interconnected triangles to create flowing forms much like the rounded (Geodesic) domes of Buckminster Fuller.  Hadid’s firm explains, “In our installation and exhibition at the Biennale we want to show that – apart from the dialogue with the work of contemporary competitors that existed all along – our recent work connects to a rather different historical strand of research. The more our design research and work evolved on the basis of algorithmic form generation, the more we learned to appreciate the work of pioneers like Frei Otto who had achieved the most elegant designs on the basis of material-structural form-finding processes. From Frei Otto we learned how the richness, organic coherence and fluidity of the forms and spaces we desire could emerge rationally from an intricate balance of forces. We expanded Frei Otto’s method to include environmental as well as structural logics, and we moved from material to computational simulations.” Chipperfield’s theme gave refreshing license for architects to quote each others inspirations.

Toshiko Mori’s exhibit was full of Architectural quotations from the masters. 

Toshiko Mori gave you insight into details most people never truly see. For lovers of architectural details this homage to the masters was a delight.

The creation of architectural space has a boundary. Every architect wrestles with the issue of how you get from the outside to the inside. Toshiko Mori decided to focus on this intersection in a celebration of architectural details that most of us overlook. These window details are as iconic and memorable for architects as Kubrick’s use of Richard Strauss in 2001, is for filmmakers.  “We have framed each detail as a totem – an object carrying an abstract spirit of its own, an animistic character that echoes the personality and signature of an architect. By isolating details and presenting them at half scale, one starts to inhabit this menageries of architectural ideas as one detail starts to speak to another; they echo each others history, precedents and references.”

The Chinese Pavilion is in a building at the Arsenele that was used to store diesel fuel for giant ships. The oil smell is gone but the gigantic rusting tanks remain. China uses this space for both the Art and the Architecture Biennales and what they do in it is made all the more visually arresting because of the dramatic character of the space itself. 


This year, in the China Pavilion, Shao Weiping created a “glow worm” of floating acrylic resin panels with interesting computer circuitry visible on the surface. LED lights embedded in the top of the discs gave this floating spine a mysteriously changing glow. 

Rendering of interior atrium of the Phoenix International Media Center in Beijing. Image courtesy of BIAD_UFo

The China exhibition continued on the theme of how a repeated form can create a new structure. Instead of intersecting triangles, this time the “seed form” is a naturalistic looking ovoid disc that reminded me of the thin leaves of a Lunaria Money Plant. By stacking these discs, or suspending them in space, new forms are created from the repeated pattern. The “Mobius Strip” inspired Phoenix International Media Center in Beijing is one of the building forms that can be created from such repetition. Five artists and architects were represented in the China Pavilion and their curator, Fang Zhenning, found expressive common ground between them all.

One room in the main pavilion of the Biennale was devoted to architectural models by students from all over the world. The title: 40,000 Hours. 


Young architects are a major audience for the entire exhibition. This impressive display of their work is a tribute to their tenacity. 

One of the problems with a show on Architecture is you really do not have enough time or the attention span to properly explore each exhibit. This was never more true than in the overwhelming 40,000 Hours room of architectural models from students. These models were cherry-picked from all over the world. Each of them is a time vampire of love and attention. The quality of the work was impressive. Each model was a little jewel and yet you did not have the energy to appreciate them one by one. They became a collective statement of effort. “This collection of models built by students from architecture schools across the world is both a tribute to their work and a depiction of the extraordinary labour undertaken in those institutions. The title of the room is a rough guess at the amount of hours taken to produce the models and the presentation is intended to evoke a natural resource, a groundswell of imaginative proposition by young architects. The presentation of the models is deliberately anonymous: each one is made of the same material and is about the same size. And while every model was built by an individual student the intention is to foreground the power and potential of the collective effort.”

The Piranesi Variations provided Common Ground for three prestigious architectural groups to explore. Each of them presented their own re-visioning of Piranesi’s plan (done in 1762) for Campo Marzo in Rome. the participants included: Eisenman Architects, students from Yale University, Jeffrey Kipnis with his colleagues and students of the Ohio State University, and Belgian architecture practice, Dogma.

This is a famous and recognizable detail from Piranesi’s etching. It became one clue to orient yourself as you looked at the complicated and imaginative variations.

The detail shown above comes alive in 3D as it turns into a animalistic head with an arching neck in The Field of Dreams. Soda straws create a cloud effect around another one of the building forms.

Common Ground was never better expressed than in a fascinating four part exhibit based on the Campo Marzo etchings of Piranesi. Jeffery Kipnis, the Architectural Theoretician, with whom we collaborated on the documentary, A Constructive Madness (about the creative process of Frank Gehry) was one of the prestigious faculty who created this visionary capriccio.  The tongue in cheek title (one of Jeffery’s trademarks) says it all: A Field of Dreams. IV: Variation: A Field of Dreams, Wherein the Erotics – the Passions, Perversions, and Spectacles of Ancient Rome – so Perfectly Frozen by Piranesi’s Etchings are Reanimated as a Morality Play for Contempoary Architecture. (Dedicated to Le Corbusier and John Hejduk)

An interactive garden brought high quality and soothing music into the landscape. A very literal and innovative interpretation of Common Ground.

Round speakers, disguised as garden statuary, dotted the landscape in this interactive musical garden. The railing is part of the sophisticated sensor apparatus that modulated the performance.

A very popular and fun exhibit combined landscape design with modern and very well-done music. This acoustic garden was interactive. Special sensors examined not only the number of people in the vicinity but also the weather. The composition was modified to take into account all these factors. In lesser hands this would have felt gimmicky. Instead, it was refreshing and joyful. It was impossible not to smile as you walked over the grassy mounds and, like a great soundtrack, the experience was perfectly blended.

Graffiti on the Men’s Room wall reminded you of the market pressures facing young architects as they try to find jobs in a depressed economy.

Architects are often in competition with each other. We are used to the large egos and the “star-chitect” nature of the field. Venice itself reminds you of an earlier time when the architect was anonymous and adhered to commonly agreed to principles revered by a profession grounded in the traditions of the guild. Chipperfield’s theme resonated with these ideas but not in an old fashioned way. Had I not seen and enjoyed his success in Berlin, I am not sure I would have appreciated the profundity of his theme. Thanks to his success in Berlin with the Neues Museum, his next project will be a renovation of the iconic and “untouchable” Mies Van der Rohe, Neue Nationalgalerie museum. This project, also in Berlin, was Meis’ last work and was designed in 1968. It now looks shabby and is in dire need of attention. Chipperfield’s techniques of diplomacy work. They have broad and important relevance to many other fields because they establish perhaps the most valuable aspect of a client relationship – trust.

Until next time with much love,

Tommaso


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5 Responses to “Exploring Common Ground”

  1. If you are in Cleveland (might be national, too) and want to see 2001 on the big screen, Cinemark Cinema at Valley View is showing it the night of January 9. Not as big a screen as the Cinemascope screen I saw it on when it was released, but that was special even in that era. It would be an interesting way to start off 2013. Happy New Year!

  2. Dear Tommaso– another tour de force! I so love that you only post things when you have had time to consider and decide on a topic, and then amass material to realize it fully. Each time you post here, I feel the greatness of the “finished” product; as it is brought to completion with clarity and harmony. Bravo! I am also very much interested in and grateful for this set of ideas about common ground, and of diplomacy in architecture. The idea of teamwork, and of building coherence into a project as it is brought from the ideal into the real, is at the cutting edge of what a lot of people have been thinking, I believe. Last night, for New Year’s eve, I was at a prayer and meditation service which was both inter-faith and very coherently and beautifully realized, by some very sophisticated and prayerful people. Fr. Cyprian Consiglio is a Benedictine monk from the monastery on Big Sur, and he has been working in interfaith dialogue for 20 years. His musical gifts helped weave the evening into a deeper coherence than would have been possible with different pastors from each tradition speaking in sequence. By playing a song from each tradition (ahh the one from the Indonesian Muslims!) and then calling for meditation time with the bell-bowl, he dropped all these prayerful people into a deep well of resonance. We were sitting together, and celebrating and yearning for the gift of peace in deep respect for each other’s traditions. A native American spoke of letting the new leaders for the new millennia come forth, from the core of our humanity. Just so, I thought about your exhibit of the young architects, and the “40,000 hours” models. I hope for those young architects that they will receive active listening, and willingness and financing to let their work come from the imagination into the real “common ground”. I want to consider the way the GROUND of our being is common. I want to consider how the soil, (and the air, the water, the light, the weather), acts on these works of art, and creates how we occupy space together. I am humbled by how engaged you are in the world, and in the world of ideas— as I was reading about how you use your Kindle, to read more, experience more, get tastes of new books, new ideas. I felt your presence when I was walking in the Gehry metal sculpture in Bilbao– you had helped me “see” it, and “feel” it; as you talked about his sailing, and showed him moving between the sails filled with air, on his boat, in your movie about his work. I am so grateful that you have enlarged my experience with this show in Venice, which I would never have seen, without your blog posting! On New Year’s, I always think of Vienna, and the Musikverein– and Strauss’ Blue Danube waltz. I think in music we got to appreciate the orchestral power, first. But now, it seems that we are getting to appreciate orchestral power in art and architecture. What Chipperfield and you call diplomacy arrives at what I think of as orchestral coherence. Bravo! Thanks!!

  3. BRAVO. I am always inspired by the depth of the concepts you present which allows us to see them with new insight. They seem always important, really simple and “classic” in the framework of our chaotic world. I like that!

  4. Dear Tom,
    I also wanted to say that I would like to stand under those skirt-like roofs of Hadid’s– they remind me of women standing over the subway vents in NY– when the trains would rush by underneath, the skirts would blow up around their legs. There is a famous Marilyn Monroe shot on one of them. It is amazing that geometric calculations of space can cause such fluid designs!

  5. What a nice way to start the new year with your inspirational blog about architecture..! Thank you for walking us into these very compelling works, with the beautiful photographs..By the way, congratulatuons on the two Emmys won of the TELOS programs out of the three nominations for 2012!
    We live two blocks away from the art museum (LACMA)in Los Angeles…I’ll be happy to take you next time you’re here…they have added a new buiding and more art installations that I believe you’d like.
    Wishing you all the best for this year, and thank you for posting such exciting subjects..!

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Idea Factory


Roger Vivier, the inventor of the stiletto heel, created this architectural masterpiece of a shoe in the mid 1960s. Image copyright © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource NY (CNW Group/Bata Shoe Museum).

It’s next time again.

If you work in the creative arts and people like your work, sooner or later someone will ask, “Where do you get all these amazing ideas?” The question is usually well meaning and superficial but the answers can sometimes be profound. In an on-camera interview with one of the greatest shoe designers that ever lived we got an answer that had a truly profound effect on my life. Roger Vivier was Christian Dior’s shoe designer. He invented the platform sole (for Marlene Dietrich) and the stiletto heel. His answer was as elegant as his designs. He said, “I go to a museum to be inspired. I walk around and sometimes an idea will occur and sometimes not.” And then he dropped the other shoe. “Creativity is a gift of observation.” That simple phrase has supported me for my entire career. I take inspiration from it at least once a week.

Who doesn’t want more creative thinking in their lives? The words, “I have an idea!” always seem to take a boring meeting up a notch. If your business depends upon good ideas you have probably found interesting ways to cultivate your creativity. I’d be so interested to hear about your most effective techniques. This topic leads in all sorts of interesting directions. How does creativity really work? How does art cross-pollinate between cultures? How does art advance? How do ideas morph and develop as they move through society in different eras? These ideas even connect to the “usefulness”of art and its ability to inspire in all walks of life.

George Lois, a legend in the advertising world, created his famous 1968 Esquire cover of Muhammed Ali through inspirations from weekly visits to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Saint Sebastian that inspired Mr. Lois was painted by Botticini but it is no longer on public view at the Met. The one pictured above is by Peter Paul Rubens, c.1614, oil on canvas, 200×120cm, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Germany.

One of the great things about watching Mad Men is the glimpse you get into the creative process of advertising. George Lois is sometimes described as one of the “original” Mad Men. This is a characterization he doesn’t like very much, but I’m sure he approves of the recent attention he has received because of the show. I came across his work and ideas and was so impressed by his weekly habit of visiting the Metropolitan Museum.

“To constantly inspire breakthrough conceptual thinking I go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art religiously every Sunday.” Lois goes on to say, “Lou Dorfman, design chief for CBS radio and leader the CBS television network for over 40 years once said, ‘In reality creativity is the ability to reach inside yourself and drag forth from your very soul an idea.’ However, nothing comes from nothing. You must continuously feed the inner beast that sparks and inspires. I contend the DNA of talent is stored within the great museums of the world. Museums are custodians of epiphanies and these epiphanies enter the central nervous system and the deep recesses of the mind.”

The Crucifixion of St. Paul by Caravaggio is a terrifying painting depicting the hard work of murder. Martin Scorcese is one of many filmmakers who adore Caravaggio and it is not only because of the painter’s masterful command of light and shadow. Painting by Caravaggio, c. 1601, oil on canvas, 230cm x 175cm, Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome.

For the reasons articulated so well by George Lois, I find Art History to be one of the most pleasurable and practical uses of my time. One of the best books I have ever read about Art History is Andrew Graham-Dixon’s new biography of Caravaggio, Caravaggio – A Life Sacred & Profane.  Graham-Dixon describes Caravaggio’s work as “proto-cinematographic.” I found myself totally captivated by the amazingly dramatic story of Caravaggio’s life; his own search for creative inspiration (which Graham-Dixon describes with riveting clarity) and Caravaggio’s enormous impact on his contemporaries and followers. To give one brief example, Graham-Dixon describes how a Caravaggio painting completely “takes over a room.” Even if surrounded in a museum by other masterworks; there is something about Caravaggio’s sensuality and drama that keeps grabbing for your attention. Just like the entrance of a truly great actor, it is really hard to look at anything else when a Caravaggio comes on to the stage. Martin Scorsese provides additional insight as to why this is so.

A young and energetic Martin Scorsese directs Robert DiNiro in Raging Bull. Photo credit: United International Pictures


Scorsese is an enormously cultured and sophisticated filmmaker. It is no surprise his remarks about his study of Caravaggio are as insightful as his invaluable observations about the history of Cinema. A video of his conversation about Caravaggio with Andrew Graham-Dixon can be found here: Scorsese on Caravaggio. He draws inspiration from his many cultural interests. I loved it that he forced his crew to listen to one of his favorite Bach recordings as they shot one of the best sequences in his film, The Aviator. Scorsese knew he wanted that particular piece (and specific performance by Eugene Ormandy) for the soundtrack which would be used for pacing the scene in the editing suite. But, he decided the energy of the music would somehow inspire not only the actors, but also the crew, the mood and the entire cinematic chemistry if he had it playing on set during the filming. If creativity is a gift of observation, Martin Scorsese must sleep with one eye open.

He learned about Caravaggio from his collaborator Paul Schrader when they were working on Mean Streets. Schrader felt the paintings would speak to Scorsese. The intense and violent mood of some of the paintings is quoted in much of the filmmaker’s subsequent work. Scorsese points out when you look at a Caravaggio you are injected into the middle of the scene. What a great observation! I just love this idea. If you are going to paint a crucifixion there are all sorts of ways to do it. But look again at how Caravaggio did it! You are confronted with all the messy details. Bam! You are smack dab in the middle of a murder and you don’t know exactly how you got there and how you are going to get out of it but you can’t take your eyes off the violence. Sounds just like a Scorsese movie doesn’t it?

Michael Fassbender draws inspiration for his performance in Ridley Scott’s Prometheus from an unlikely source – Peter O’Toole’s legendary portrayal of Lawrence of Arabia. Photo courtesy 20th Century Fox

Another extraordinarily smart and cultured filmmaker is Ridley Scott. His summer blockbuster Prometheus is packed with cultural references. I won’t spoil the moment for those of you who have not seen the film, but the way in which Scott quotes David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia, and in particular the acting genius of Peter O’Toole, is both brilliant and charming. Prometheus is a violent sci-fi futuristic horror movie but a beguiling Chopin étude haunts the score. The dominant visual impact of the film comes from Scott’s almost visceral collaboration with the painter H. R. Giger. Giger is a swiss artist, born in 1940, whose work is eerie, seductive and repulsive all at the same time. Ridley Scott made Giger world famous by using his creepy imagery as the powerful art direction for Scott’s 1979 masterpiece, Alien. The devastating final act of Prometheus is like a “Vulcan mind meld” with Giger’s brain. It hit me like a ton of bricks. The realization of Giger’s world through some sort of viscous and viral collaboration with Ridley Scott who spread the contagion to all of his crew; the craftsmen, the lighting technicians, the set designers, the CGI wizards – all of them infected and transformed by a mood which started with one guy and paint brush, is truly a testament to the power of good idea and the creative tenacity to take it as far as it possibly could go.

H. R. Giger painted this portrait of his muse, Li. The sadness and torment of the portrait is all the more unsettling when you learn that she later committed suicide. Image courtesy Museum HR Giger, Château St. Germain, 1663 Gruyères, France.

While it is fun to examine the seeds of inspiration sown by art in the making of great films and other other creative disciplines, do these ideas find any purchase in the business world? One of my really smart attorney friends told me about his creative process. He is in the business of good ideas. After all, people are coming to him for his advice. He said he learns as much as he can about the case and then he lives with it a bit. He said, “It is always there, just in the back of your mind.” And then, in due course, he said things just mentally fall into place. He did not mention art specifically but he describes an unforced organic Eureka moment that is not necessarily the result of direct concentration upon the matter at hand. I somehow knew exactly what he meant. I find this process fascinating. “Chance favors the prepared mind” (see Sarah’s comment below) is another way of looking at it, and I think this is what an active, positive Museum experience can bring to the mechanics of the creative process. You observe – actively. You learn. You investigate whatever strikes your mood. You look at great Art and Film and listen to great music and in those moments of appreciation (after the homework is done on the particular problem) and suddenly there it is! A solution – a really good solution. A solution that is grounded in preparation and soars to transcend the limitations of the situation blocking the insight. It is a complete joy when this happens and I think the atmosphere created by great Art is conducive to the nurturing and the constructive exploitation of these moments.

Jean Cocteau, the French poet, said of his painter friend, Christian Bérard, “He could pluck naked beauty from the thin air in which she resides.” I could not help but think of that quote as I read more about George Lois’ creative process.

He writes, “Creativity is not created – it is there for us to find. It is an act of discovery. Great advertising comes down to the big idea, but I never create the ideas that characterize my work. I discovered them – snared from the air as they float by me. Michelangelo said that a sculpture is imprisoned in a block of marble and only a great sculptor can set it free. Sounds mystical, perhaps, but after doing the requisite homework to understand the product, its competitors, etc., ideas and advertising are ignited by the sparks and sounds of an understanding of 7000 years of the history of mankind.”

He goes on to say, “Plato defined “idea” (EIDOS) as a mental image. I don’t create that mental image in my head. I somehow see it in my minds eye, floating by me, and I reach out and grab it. So if you’re trying to achieve greatness in any creative industry, go out into the world and sail the ocean blue and live a life of discovery.”

Until next time with much love,

Tomasso


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Clocks for Seeing


Portrait of the beguiling Cindy Sherman by Abe Frajndlich. This photo is the cover shot of Abe’s new book, Penelope’s Hungry Eyes, just published by the acclaimed German publishing house Schirmer/Mosel. The Preface is written by Henry Adams. All of Abe’s photographs are Copyright © 2011 Abe Frajndlich 2011, courtesy of Schirmer/Mosel

It’s next time again.

The holidays are upon us and it is inevitable you will either take or be in some new photographs. The camera, once rare and wonderful, is now everywhere and therefore almost ignored. It has become so much a part of our lives it ironically has become almost invisible. Who gives it a moment’s thought? I’d like to try and give it serious consideration for a while and hope something here might come to mind as you are asked to say “cheese” in the coming weeks.

Canaletto painted this view from a palazzo near Venice’s Rialto bridge in Venice around 1722.

In Venice, in order to get from here to there you have to cross over the bridges. There are only four over the grand canal and the tops of these are always “photo ops” for visitors. I usually try to wait while people frame their loved ones just so, and not ruin their picture by walking in between them, but I’m sure (like the mystery writer Donna Leon said of her protagonist inspector Brunetti) I must appear as a blurry shadow in countless photographs I tried to avoid. The other day I snapped the photograph below and sent it to my Art History Professor friend with the email title: “Faux Canaletto.” He wrote back a simple question. “I wonder what he (Canaletto) would think if he saw this?” I am pretty sure it would blow his mind into smithereens.

I snapped this photo from the top of the Venice’s Rialto bridge with an iPhone 4S. It took all of 15 seconds to take it and then send it to friends around the world.

It is almost impossible to imagine the world before photography. Canaletto painted so that others could share his world. He laboriously depicted what he saw. He did this with consummate skill in such carefully painted detail that it must have seemed like high def TV appears to us today. He took liberties, as any great painter should, but in large part he tried to depict the real world. Something we do now in five seconds on our telephones and then we dispatch our snapshots around the world. It would have to be seen by the eighteenth century mind as a toy of the devil.

It is my occupational hazard to adore photography but only rarely do I stop to ponder the miracle of it. One writer who tried to investigate the philosophical meaning of photography is Roland Barthes.

The writer Roland Barthes had a ferocious intellect and his writings about photography are filled with philosophical insight. Reading him changes the way you see.

His Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography is one of those books I have to read in small doses. I read eight paragraphs three times through and then stop and think about it for a while and then reread and finally I seem to understand part of what he means. He is devastatingly brilliant. He works really hard to define the photographic process. Here is a sample:

I observed that a photograph can be the object of three practices (or of three emotions, or of three intentions): to do, to undergo, to look. The Operator is the Photographer. The Spectator is ourselves, all of us who glance through collections of photographs – in magazines and newspapers, in books, albums, archives … And the person or thing photographed is the target, the referent, a kind of little simulacrum, any eidolon emitted by the object, which I should like to call the Spectrum of the Photograph, because this word retains, through its root, a relation to ’spectacle’ and adds to it that rather terrible thing which is there in every photograph: the return of the dead.

Perky to contemplate for the holiday season isn’t it? But in context, the “death” so fascinating to Barthes is the stoppage of time. His “Spectrum” and eidolon (spirit) is something we all really enjoy about photography. We see loved ones now gone. We see and hold in our hands, or on our screens, that which we cannot see in life anymore. “Taking” a photograph is for some cultures taking part of the person’s soul. When I traveled in India the vocabulary was different. I used to say, “May I pull your picture?” Pulling instead of taking, but if you let me “shoot” you, all these words imply I somehow capture something from you.
Roland Barthes again:

The portrait-photograph is a closed field of forces. Four image-repertoires intersect here, oppose and distort each other. In front of the lens, I am at the same time: the one I think I am, the one I want others to think I am, the one the photographer thinks I am, and the one he makes use of to exhibit his art.

In other words, a strange action: I do not stop imitating myself, and because of this, each time I am (or let myself be) photographed, I invariably suffer from a sensation of inauthenticity, sometimes of imposture (comparable to certain nightmares). In terms of image repertoire, the Photograph (the one I intend) represents that very subtle moment when, to tell-the truth, I am neither subject nor object but a subject who feels he is becoming an object: I then experience a micro-version of death (of parenthesis): I am truly becoming a specter.

The Photographer knows this very well, and himself fears (if only for commercial reasons) this death in which his gesture will embalm me. . . .  they turn me, ferociously, into an object, they put me at their mercy, at their disposal, classified in a file, ready for the subtlest deceptions.

Against this backdrop I would like for you to imagine how utterly intimidating it must be to photograph a photographer? Someone who viscerally understands all the implications of what Barthes describes above. And, to make it even worse, this photographer whose image you want to “take” is not some friend of yours, he or she is a total stranger.

The British photographer Bill Brandt is known for wide angle, surrealist black and white photography.

Worse than that, what if this unwilling subject was one of your heroes? What if this person was a “god” of photography? How do you even make that call when you know what you are going to hear from behind the curtain is a deep, terrifying voice shouting, “Who goes there? Who are you to even ask that I interrupt my work up here on Mt. Olympus to come down to terra firma and sit for you?”

Self portrait of Abe Frajndlich taken a few years ago but if you meet Abe these days chances are this is pretty much what you are going to see.

Enter Abe Frajndlich who has a way of ripping past every flimsy curtain put in front of him. With his charm, his ferocious tenacity and his winning smile, Abe has managed to capture practically every great photographer of the twentieth century. These amazing photographs have just been released in a new book you have got to see.

Portrait of legendary LIFE magazine photographer Alfred Eisensdaedt.

Abe began this project thirty years ago. His obsession with photography extends to his heroes behind the lens. When he first moved to Boston I like to think about Abe leafing through the big books of great photographers that he found in his mentor Minor White’s library. (Minor White was one of the founding editors of the superb photography magazine Aperture.)

There is a wonderful opportunity for visual education in such books but most of us don’t see with Abe’s intensity. When Abe looks at a photograph he really goes to school on it and this visual memory has served him well. Most of the portraits in Abe’s new book make a visual connection to the photographic work of his famous subjects. When you look through the book there will be portraits of many photographers you know and some photographers you don’t. Abe’s portraits drop visual clues like bread crumbs. Given the impressive reputations of his sitters, these portraits offer reference points to help you on an investigative journey of the history of photography. Click on the photographers name (in blue) in the photo captions to go to links featuring their works.

Portrait of Robert Frank who is known to play with shadows.

After reading Barthes, and thinking about his insights, Abe’s pictures have become even more meaningful for me. Look at all the ways he and his subjects have conspired to cheat death. Maybe you think this an overstatement but I think it accounts for the true meaning of the impressive achievement of the entire project. There is an uncomfortable restlessness in many of these pictures. Some of them seem forced, as if they captured an awkward and embarrassing pause in a conversation when both parties suddenly feel self conscious and shy. I think no topic brings up those sorts of pauses than a conversation about mortality.

Portrait of Louise Dahl-Wolfe; a fashion muse.

Everyone in the room knows there is nothing worse in a photograph than someone who does not look animated and lifelike, who sits dead as a doornail, who looks wooden and too-posed and conveys no energy to the lens. There are all sorts of props and tricks and dances and contrivances to make these photographs come alive. Both Abe and his famous subjects know that compelling photographs must rise above the innate inertia of death and in these portraits both sitter and photographer have conspired to reach for something very elusive – immortality.

Photo of German photographer Thomas Struth known for his oversize pictures of people in museums.

To close I quote from Roland Barthes again. This is a thrilling quotation and is the source for the title of this blog. Something for you to think about the next time you hear someone has taken your picture:

For me, the Photographer’s organ is not his eye (which terrifies me) but his finger: what is linked to the trigger of the lens, to the metallic shifting of the plates (when the camera still has such things). I love these mechanical sounds in an almost voluptuous way, as if, in the Photograph, they were the very thing – and the only thing – to which my desire clings, their abrupt click breaking through the mortiferous layer of the Pose.

For me the noise of Time is not sad: I love bells, clocks, watches – and I recall that at first photographic implements were related to techniques of cabinetmaking and the machinery of precision: cameras, in short, were clocks for seeing, and perhaps in me someone very old still hears in the photographic mechanism the living sound of the wood.

Until next time with much love I remain your,

Tommaso


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Artistic Choice


One of the many artistic muses at The Cleveland Museum of Art. By Charles Meynier (Paris, 1763 – 1832), Clio, Muse of History (1798). Image Courtesy of the Cleveland Museum of Art.

It’s next time again.

“All art is quite useless.” With this provocative phrase Oscar Wilde ends the preface to The Picture of Dorian Grey and begins his only published novel. I’ve always loved this quote. It’s like a slap in the face. It sets up all sorts of reverberations. What can you actually do with Art besides enjoy it? Art may be useless but that doesn’t mean it is not valuable.

This became very tangible to me after recent mind expanding visit to Gerhard Richter’s amazing retrospective at the Tate Modern museum in London. On view were several of his colorful so called “squeegee” paintings. Abstract, dense, thickly-painted canvases that somehow evoke the feelings of sunlight on water. I love these paintings and was stunned to see in the paper the following day that one of these gorgeous works recently sold at auction for three times the reserved price; a staggering 20 million dollars. Useless yes. Worthless no.

One of Gerhard Richter’s “squeegee” paintings just sold for 20 million dollars. Seems pretty expensive until you compare it to other things we value. According to Forbes, this year’s 50 highest paid athletes earned $1.4 billion combined or $28 million on average. Le Bron James who left Cleveland for Miami was 6th on the Forbes list at $40 million.

Does this mean Art is only valued by and reserved for the rich? Certainly not. I will never be able to own such a painting but that does not prevent me from enjoying such masterpieces in the museums. Some of these institutions in both the U.S. and abroad receive public tax money, which raises lots of questions. Does art have any value to a community? Should public money fund the arts? Is art and culture only a playground for the wealthy or can anybody join the game?

To be honest, I am usually more interested in writing about the experience of art than its economics, but for the past three months I’ve been captivated by these ideas thanks to several new friends and collaborators at WVIZ/PBS ideastream – in Cleveland.

We have been working on a short mini-documentary, for national broadcast, about how the arts are funded in Cleveland. Along the way we’ve had the opportunity to meet several experts in the field of public funding of the arts. We’ve had the chance to interview them, think about the value of art in its contribution to not only quality of life issues but also how it’s power can be harnessed as an economic engine. This has been a truly fascinating experience and one I’m anxious to share.



The Money Changer and his Wife by Marinus van Reymerswaele, 1540, oil on panel, Florence, Museo Nazionale del Bargello.

Money, art and power have been linked together for a very long time. A recent show at the Palazzo Strozzi in Florence investigates these issues in an engrossing exhibition with the fabulous title: Money & Beauty – Bankers, Botticelli and the Bonfire of the Vanities. The exhibition, typical of the curators at Palazzo Strozzi, does several things right. Not the least of which is to commission a bona fide journalist/writer (Tim Parks) and an independent art historian (Ludovica Sebregondi) to do the descriptors. Instead of just dry information you get an extremely well written and literate point of view. Each descriptor is “signed” so you know who is saying what. I don’t know about you but I really adore exhibitions that tell a story. So why didn’t anybody ever think of this brilliant idea of hiring real story tellers before? (Maybe others have done this but I have never seen it.)

This transformed an exhibition with only a few masterpieces into a show where the ideas expressed outshone the art. That’s OK. It kept you completely involved in the sequential presentation of the artworks, artifacts, books, coins and treasures that were all carefully arranged to illustrate the ideas. You walked away having had an unforgettable experience.

Much of the show was about the great Florentine and fabulously wealthy banking family of the Medicis who are also perhaps the most famous patrons in the history of art. Lending money in their time was not considered an honorable profession and the exhibition demonstrated how they used the their art patronage to improve their image and solidify their power. I never really understood before why money lending was so frowned upon (other than the biblical representations of the moneylenders in the bible). How’s this for a beautifully written descriptor:

In the Church’s list of capital sins, Usury stands with Avarice. The usurer sins because he sells the interval of time between the moment when he lends and the moment when he is reimbursed with interest: he thus trades time, which belongs to God alone.



Marble statue of Terpsichore, one of the nine Muses, or goddesses of creative inspiration. By Antonio Canova (Italian, 1757-1822), 1816, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna, Jr. Fund.

So what does this all have to do with how Cleveland funds the arts? It points out money is important but it’s not the only thing that matters. On the other hand, art is almost never free and while we value all sorts of things, if we want to have art in our communities, we need to figure out how to pay for it. Wealthy patrons and corporations can only do so much. Public money funds all sorts of things for a region’s economic development and education. The question comes down to what a community thinks is important?

In 2006, the community in Cleveland decided to fund the arts with a tax on cigarettes. We passed a carefully designed ballot issue to funnel money into arts and culture. So why is this news? Because it adds up to 12 million dollars a year! That’s the sort of investment that would even get the attention of a Medici. One of the very smart people we interviewed in the mini-doc, Karen Gahl Mills, who runs the State agency Cuyahoga Arts & Culture (CAC) responsible for distributing these funds says, “It is three times what the Ohio Arts Council provides for the entire State.” She also points out, as far as national rankings for public money dedicated to the arts is concerned, the States of New York and Minnesota are numbers one and two, but Cuyahoga County is number three.

So if the community is helping to bankroll the arts what do we get out of this “investment”?  The short answer is: jobs and economic growth. The music industry alone in Cuyahoga County provides 800 million dollars every year in economic activity.



Tom Schorgl and Karen Gahl Mills are two of the reasons public arts funding works so well in Cleveland.

Another one of the other interviewees in the story and the man who really put this initiative together, Tom Shorgl of the Cuyahoga Partnership for Arts and Culture (CPAC) spends a lot of his time measuring, researching and analyzing these sorts of things. His agency works with arts organizations and artists to make them more self sustaining and help them with business skills to make them more successful. The strategy is working. To put this in perspective, the Ford plant these days employs about 3,500 people. Tom explains an independent research group recently looked at Cuyahoga County and discovered the Arts & Culture sector includes over 1,200 businesses and over 15,000 full time jobs.

I find it reassuring and impressive that Cuyahoga County has found a way to help pay for some of the “useless” art delivered by The Cleveland Orchestra, The Cleveland Museum of Art, Playhouse Square, The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, WVIZ/PBS and 90.3 WCPN ideastream along with over 140 other arts organizations who currently receive part of their funding from the arts tax. Oscar Wilde and even the Medicis would approve.



The main title of the mini-doc features a charcoal drawing triptych by Laurence Channing, who recently received an arts fellowship funded by the cigarette tax.

Artistic Choice airs on most PBS stations around the country on Friday November 18th. The 16 minute mini-doc runs after a one hour documentary Women Who Rock. The full program runs from 9 –10:30 p.m. Check local listings.

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Packing Tape


Fresh, new, noisy (and very effective) performance art by the artistic team of Jennifer Allora and Guillermo Calzadilla at the US pavilion of the Venice Biennale 2011.

It’s next time again.

A few years ago I made a promise to myself. I would no longer stay in hotel rooms in which I would be ashamed to die. I’m pretty sure this was not an original thought but I don’t remember who came up with that delightfully clever phrase. So what has this got to do with the 2011 Venice Biennale? Read on and I’ll try to explain.

Two children check out a stair-stepped fluorescent light sculpture by Venetian artist, Monica Bonvinci, in the Arsenale. She has a well-done video for your enjoyment here.

This year, like every year, the art in Venice is a mixed bag. You wander through the two main venues and you always find something you like and occasionally find something you really love. As you probably already know, the two main venues are the Arsenale (a massive, gorgeous series of buildings from the 14th or 15th centuries where Venice’s legendary mercantile vessels and warships were constructed. The buildings alone make you gasp and are always a pleasure to see) and the Giardini where, for over a hundred years now, countries from all over the world have made little art pavilions in a large scale Venetian garden and have filled them with the best new talent and art their cultures can produce. This, at least, is the noble aspiration.

Part of the fun of the Venice Biennale is visiting palaces, neighborhoods and venues you have never seen before. Here, a marble bust of a moor graces the landing of a palazzo where this year, artists from Venice, California sent art to Venice, Italy.

But Venice gives you even more. All over the city are additional installations, sometimes in fabulous, usually closed, palazzos. It is a giant scavenger hunt. There is always the small victory of finding the place, and often a larger joy in seeing a building or a neighborhood you never knew existed. These buildings by themselves are often a marvelous discovery. You enter closed gardens where the intricate wrought iron gate is actually open and you can see what treasures bloom behind those old stone walls. You climb terrazzo stairways going up and up and up, to fabulous views of the city. Dappled sunlight reflects off the water through leaded pale pink windows. You discover threadbare rugs; beamed ceilings untouched since Canaletto’s time with the faintest tracery of gilt-painted scroll work; rococo plaster moldings; gigantic dust-dimmed Murano glass chandeliers; musty canal level entry ways and old somewhat lumpy panes of glass filtering that molto famoso Venetian light.

Also in the Arsenale, Swiss artist, Urs Fischer, creates a gigantic wax faux marble replica of the classical sculpture, “Rape of the Sabine Women” by Giambologna (1529–1608). He then lights an embedded candle wick and lets it slowly drip for six months.

So, if by chance you get to see some bad, or fair, or fun, or sometimes good and occasionally great new works of art, you feel as though you won the lottery. It is always a pleasure and on rare occasions it is something transcendent. Now there are Art Biennales all over the world, but Venice remains perhaps the best of them and much of this has to do with the timeless beauty of the city itself. More on this in a moment.

Packing tape binds TVs as they play gruesome war-horror clips in this year’s Swiss pavilion by Thomas Hirschhorn.

This year in Venice, many young artists have discovered a new and fascinating art supply and they are using it with abandon – packing tape. Miles and miles of it binds the Swiss pavilion together. It adheres to Australia. It cobbles together Brazil and it even stars on TV in sticky High Definition glory. So what does this have to do with my admonition to myself up there about Hotel rooms? Well, I learned something very important about myself at this year’s Biennale. (If an Art show does not provoke self inquiry than it has not really done its job.) I have learned that I usually don’t like Art that is pieced together with packing tape. Call it a personal preference.

An orgy of packing tape adheres Thomas Hirschhorn’s kitchen glassware on plastic chairs next to a cardboard wall covered in tin foil. Something reminds me of an overdue school project.

This newly learned aesthetic preference is just like another prejudice I have developed from trial and error; I usually do not like hotels where you can’t remove the hanger from the clothes pole in the closet. I don’t know about you, but I always find that annoying. It indicates the hotel management does not trust me. I’m sure there are exceptions to this, but, if I find those annoying stuck-to-the-rail hangers, it is a red flag that I had better not die in this hotel. In a similar way, when I see packing tape in an Art installation, I have already given the artist a cranky critical demerit and I’m usually not in the mood to look for artistic illumination lurking underneath the oh-so-deliberate trash.

Robert Rauschenberg, “Aen Floga” (Combine Painting), 1962, Oil on canvas with wood, metal and wire. Rauschenberg often combined trash into sculptures. How he magically made these “Combines” so captivating is a mystery but I suppose one good word for it would be, Art.

Don’t get me wrong. I like deconstruction. I think Frank Gehry’s rough edges and Robert Rauschenberg’s “Combines” are brilliant. I’ve made films about these ideas. I can easily see, “The Beauty of Damage.” I’m not saying Art made with packing tape is not Art. I’m just saying I don’t usually like it. For me, Art made without craft or with a deliberate and self conscious resemblance to trash bears a heavy load. Let me give you a couple of examples because I’m wrestling with the issue in my own mind and before I mentally check out of this hotel with the unremovable hangers, your insights will be greatly appreciated.

The Swiss Pavilion by Thomas Hirschhorn is a good example of what one writer called “glorified trash.” Obsessive compulsive chaos, hard work, but (for me) no liftoff. No magic. Feckless. No insight. No transformation. Obvious and plain in its depressing motives. Valid? Of course. Some knowledgeable friends said it was “deep.” Other knowledgeable friends said it was high-school-level thinking; “War is bad! Wow! What a concept.” This installation, both physically and metaphorically, is hanging on by its fingernails. One acquaintance working there says, “They send me out for more ‘Scotch’ (what Italians call sticky tape) every day!” I’ve come to the conclusion that this is just not anything I choose to explore. (Which is actually not true because I have spent a lot of time and energy thinking about this.) I have learned if I get really turned off by an artist, that there is probably something there. That sense of irritation and disgust means they found a button and are pushing it. So, I did my homework. I visited and then I read the entire artist statement about the Swiss pavilion and visited again. Still no buzz. My knowledgeable friends who also found little glory in the trash, felt the artist statement was wonderfully articulate about the aspirations he totally failed to achieve. This makes it worse in a way. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my internal reaction and I’ve concluded that, for me – this is a blind alley. I am left with the irritation of not being able to remove that coat hanger and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t find it charming or even interesting. For me – it just doesn’t work.

Chinese performance artist Kwok Mang-ho looks through trash and finds a smile.

Hong Kong Frogtopia, by Chinese performance artist, Kwok Mang-ho, (aka Frog King) is at the other end of the trash art spectrum. It has a potent positive core. He recreated his studio in all its trashy glory. You just have to smile. It is slapdash and deliberately goofy and all of it was made really quickly and with little polish. It feels like graffiti with a heart of gold. Now it is much easier to love something so joyful than it is to love something depressing. But, for me, Frogtopia communicated its fun very directly and quite effectively. All the people working there were having a blast and their energy was charming, infectious and memorable. Just because something like the Swiss Pavilion is depressing doesn’t, for me, make it more significant.

Two of the happy workers at Frogtopia pose with eyeglasses even cooler than mine.

You could argue Frogtopia is lightweight so it soars more easily. But if part of your point is a reverse aesthetic (think a Duchamp urinal) then it might be even more courageous to find the unlikely surprise of joy in trash rather than the much more obvious unease and self evident ugliness.

The Saudi Arabian installation in the Arsenale gave an evocation of Mecca and featured projections on the floor, reflective spheres, an up-ended cube and a through-a-glass-darkly oval mirror. A video featuring this work by the artists, Raja and Shadia Alem is linked here.

Blogging about all this stuff is very frustrating for me because all of this is by its nature subjective and it is really hard to involve you in the discussion. So much of this art loses so much in translation that the attempt to describe it authentically is exhausting. “You had to see it” is such a terrible cop-out, that you might legitimately start to question the power of what was seen. Let me give you a really specific example.

Inside the U. S. Pavilion, a world class gymnast amazes the crowd with a strenuous 15 minute routine that combines athletic performance art with a sculptured replica airline seat. I’ll remember this beguiling piece every time I put “my seat-back into the fully upright and locked position.”

You read about the American pavilion right? It was all over the place. Huge kudos go to the Indianapolis Museum of Art for sponsoring this project. Wow! Did they get their money’s worth. They did more for their reputation and brand with this one triumph than most sleepy museums achieve in decades of academically classy shows. I read all about this project involving performance, sculpture and Olympic level athletes before I left the states. I was utterly bored by the concept. The photos I saw were underwhelming. Even the artist statements I read did not perk my interest at all. So why am I telling you about this? One simple reason; it was among the best things I’ve ever seen at the American pavilion! Finally a sense of humor. This project really cut through the clutter and, in Landscape Architect’s Peter Walker’s unforgettable phrase which, for him, defines what he tries to do with his art; this piece will unquestionably, “live in memory.” Why? The execution was superb.

Outside the U. S. pavilion, “Track and Field”, features an upside down and functioning (sort of) Centurian MK3 tank, a very loud motor, treadmill and an Olympic level athlete who pounds the treadmill in 15 minute performances throughout the day, six days a week for six months.

I venture to say you have never seen a fully operational tank lying on its back belching diesel and making more racket than a Mack truck. On top an Olympic runner runs a treadmill. In concept and description and even in photographs it sounds sort of loony; in the flesh it was unforgettable.

The top prize for the Venice Biennale is the Golden Lion which this year went to Christian Marclay for his brilliant cinematographic triumph “The Clock.” Constructed of thousands of high quality film clips, from a mind boggling number of past and present sources, his vision runs in real time and ticks off almost every minute of a 24 hour day. This was a really good idea but it was the superb execution which made it truly great.

In closing, I’d like to go back to perhaps the most important thing about the Venice Biennale. Venice. The fact that this art fair happens here is the one big reason I think it is the best in the world. This year’s curator, Bice Curiger, tried to make this point (I think) in the main entry space to the International pavilion in the Giardini. She hung three masterpieces by Tintoretto (1518 – 1594), one of the most important 16th century Venetian Renaissance painters. Because of the way she did it, you sort of have the reaction – huh? If you hang paintings this valuable you have to have lots of security, creating long lines. This was a really great idea poorly executed.

“Pervasion” was the restful and elegant installation created by five artists for the China pavilion. All these ceramic jars contain a light fragrance-infused liquid used in Chinese medicine. Perfumed fog is released every few minutes to complete the zen-like artistic vision by, YANG Maoyuan, “All Things Are Visible”, 2011

Her concept for the entire Biennale was Illumination and Tintoretto is a perfect example of this. But to hang three gorgeous Renaissance paintings in a white room and proudly claim, “voilaIllumination!” is facile and did not work for me at all. In one stroke, she managed to trivialize both Tintoretto and the Biennale. If your goal is Illumination, why not give the Tintorettos a dark space and some respectful presentation and some mystery? They were hung just like everything else (sort of like poster art) and they were the real deal. Was this her clever point? Were the guards part of her “performance?” Maybe this could have worked in Miami but here in Venice? You can wander over to the Scuola San Rocco and see so many Tintorettos (in a gorgeous setting for which they were painted) it makes your head spin.

Part of the goal is what sticks in memory without the need for packing tape. So, after all this glut of Contemporary Art, and wandering around this gorgeous city to search it out, what (besides the U. S. Pavilion) will I always remember about this year’s Venice Biennale? Two vastly different exhibitions in the outlying venues.

David Claerbout The Algiers’ Sections of a Happy Moment, 2008, Single channel video projection, 1920 x 160, Black and white, Stereo, 37 min.

The first was in an excellent show at Palazzo Grassi. This piece truly has to be seen to be appreciated but David Claerbout has created a haunting video masterpiece by combining over 900 photographs of a single moment into a 40 minute extended montage of pure joy. This piece is not new and will surely make the International rounds so I hope you have the pleasure of seeing it.

Save Venice Inc. sponsored the two year restoration of three Paolo Veronese masterpieces. This detail is from “The Coronation of Esther” painted for the ceiling of the San Sebastiano church in 1556. Photo by Matteo De Fina. For a fascinating PDF about this amazing project click here.

The second exhibition, at the newly restored Palazzo Grimani, examines three masterpieces by another Venetian Renaissance painter, Paolo Veronese (1528–1588). O Dio! This was so amazing, I almost cried. The ceiling paintings from the church of San Sebastiano (where Veronese is buried) were just restored by Save Venice. While the church itself is being restored, they hung these huge, incredibly impressive, canvases on specially constructed easels at the serenely beautiful Palazzo Grimani. The opportunity to get so close to something normally seen from 30 feet away was jaw dropping. Gazing close up at Paolo Veronese’s beatific vision of the coronation of this legendary beauty is a metaphor for the glorification of the city itself. Fredrick Ilchman, curator at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, explains it much better than I ever could.

“The exhibition offers the once-in-a-lifetime occasion to examine Veronese’s ceiling canvases at the same distance the painter enjoyed as he created them. Following the treatment sponsored by Save Venice Inc., the paintings appear far closer to the artist’s intentions than they had for more than a century. These fully autograph paintings show Veronese at a new level of mastery and should be seen as a watershed in the development of the Venetian ceiling. This exhibition allows us to be present at Paolo’s breakthrough.”

Until next time with much love,
Tommaso

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The Next


An architectural vision by Jean Nouvel of what the future will look like inside a world class museum far from home.

It’s next time again.

If America is the New World, what and where is the Next? Certainly giant-sized China is at the top of everyone’s list but what if I suggested to you, the Next might spring from a tiny country the size of Maine that didn’t even exist until 40 years ago? Even more surprising, it is located smack dab in the middle of a tempestuous region that one expert recently called, “a modified form of chaos.”

The UAE is located in one of the most strategically important regions in the world. Iraq is just above Kuwait.

I’m talking about the United Arab Emirates located at the mouth of the Persian Gulf. If you are like me, you probably have heard of them, know they are in the Arab world, but not much else. Having just returned from there, I can tell you this place has the means, the vision and the drive to deliver the Next and if you are ready for some good news, this is a Middle Eastern country that is not only friendly to, but actively courting the West’s culture, investment and influence.

Dynamic, aspirational, filled with promise, stable, and friendly-to-the-West are not attributes normally associated with the Islamic nations we see on the news every night. While prosperity from oil has a lot to do with it, I was unprepared for how comfortable I felt in the United Arab Emirates and much of this had to do with an unexpected appreciation of world class Education, Healthcare and Culture.

To understand why the United Arab Emirates deserves consideration as the Next, you need to understand the country did not exist until 1971. What they have accomplished in the past 40 years is totally unprecedented. It was described by one writer as moving from the 18th Century to the 21st in a single generation. I suppose one would have to compare social infrastructures to see if either Beijing or Abu Dhabi had a greater modernization challenge but everyone already knows about China. The Abu Dhabi story is equally fascinating but lesser known.

The Founding Father of the UAE is Sheik Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan who was also a great humanitarian and visionary leader. He was known as “The Desert Falcon.”

The story is all the more compelling because it traces itself back to a single individual, Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan. It is no exaggeration to say without his courage, selflessness, diplomacy and ruthlessness the entire nation would never have happened. After oil was discovered in the early 1960’s, he resisted staggering personal bribes and braved the worst sort of Colonial exploitation to achieve his (at the time) completely unrealistic vision of uniting the tribes of his ancestors into a small but powerful single nation.

He succeeded because of the strength of his character and his astounding personal charisma. It is pretty hard not to exoticize Sheik Zayed, who is also known as The Desert Falcon. His powerful bearing, rugged cheekbones and traditional robes make him look like he just walked off the set of Lawrence of Arabia. But the most attractive thing about him is a moral compass which points directly at the long term best interests of his people instead of his own comfort. More about him in a moment.

Thanks to Sheikh Zayed and his descendants, and unlike most of the rulerships in the region, the welfare of the Emirati people, especially in the areas of Education, Culture and Healthcare are pre-eminent priorities in the region’s economic development. To plan out the next 20 years of the Nation’s growth (and a further reason I feel they will succeed in bringing about the Next) they did an exhaustive and formal 2030 Vision plan. This is an amazing document and outlines their dreams. Unlike China, where the future plan remains a mystery, the Emiratis have taken the time to plan out exactly what they want to see happen and they have communicated that plan to anyone who wants to listen. You can read it for yourself, a free ebook is linked here: The Abu Dhabi Vision 2030. This vision includes equality for women, economic diversification, environmental sustainability, the rule of law and much more. It is an astoundingly aspirational document and it puts the social welfare of the entire population at the top of its priorities list. The oil reserves in Abu Dhabi are huge. So in their quest for Western Education, Culture and Healthcare; the bar is set high. They want the best in the world.

So what would you choose? Say money was no object. What you you pick if you could pick anything in the world to import to a very new and under-developed country?

The Performing Arts Center by Zaha Hadid features flowing futuristic lines and science fiction mood

How about the Louvre, the Guggenheim, NYU, The Paris–Sorbonne, and The Cleveland Clinic? A pretty ambitious and visionary list wouldn’t you say? Wait, it gets better. To house these new initiatives they hired some of the best architects in the world to do some of the best work of their impressive careers. Most of them are Pritzker Prize winners. It takes more than money to attract such people and institutions. Credit is due to the Emirati leadership for not only their taste and vision but also their persistence and follow-through.

Unlike the other buildings pictured here, this one is a built project: Ferrari World, a theme park with a Formula One soul and is currently the world’s largest indoor theme park.

Maybe museums are not your thing. How about one of the finest Formula One Race Courses and a theme park next door, Ferrari World (which sounds like it came straight out of a Chevy Chase movie.) Or, if you are into team sports perhaps you would prefer soccer? They have world class soccer school since they now own one of the best soccer teams in the world; the historic Manchester City soccer franchise. It is important to point out, all of these remarkable initiatives have formal educational components at their core.

The world renown architect Lord Norman Foster is designing this stunning museum dedicated to Shaikh Zayed and the history of the UAE, as well as an entire community (not pictured) outside of the city which will be a model of environmental sustainability.

The Sheikh Zayed Museum (above) is such an important part of the mix because it will be dedicated to the Emirates indigenous history and culture. It is vital to their future to have this heritage museum. Otherwise the unique and precious qualities of the UAE would be overshadowed by the influence of the West.

The Guggenheim Abu Dhabi by Frank Gehry. It is likely the Emirati are hoping for a Bilbao effect multiplied many times since all these projects are happening simultaneously.

The Guggenheim Abu Dhabi (above) will be the largest Guggenheim in the world. Frank Gehry says, “”I want to play off the blue water and the color of the sand and sky and sun,” It’s got to be something that will make sense here. If you import something and plop it down, it’s not going to work.”

The Abu Dhabi Performing Arts center was designed by Zaha Hadid who also designed the Shaikh Zayed Bridge already constructed in Abu Dhabi.

The architectural program of the Performing Arts center includes, “five theatres – a music hall, concert hall, opera house, drama theatre and a flexible theatre with a combined seating capacity for 6,300.”

Jean Nouvel’s design for the Louvre Abu Dhabi features a lacy patterned dome over simple geometrically shaped gallery spaces.

The NYT reports, “The Louvre Abu Dhabi, designed by the French architect Jean Nouvel as a 260,000-square-foot complex covered by a flying-saucer-like roof, is expected to cost around $108 million to build. Planned as a universal museum, it will include art from all eras and regions, including Islamic art.”

This picture of the massive Cleveland Clinic Abu Dhabi was taken two weeks ago. The construction site runs 24 hours a day and much of the work happens at night because when I took this picture it was 108 degrees.

Cleveland Clinic Abu Dhabi will feature a transparent glass curtain wall of double thickness separated by a substantial void. Hot air will be evacuated from this void to keep the inside of the building cool.

I went to Abu Dhabi to research a possible documentary about the massive Cleveland Clinic Abu Dhabi project which is scheduled to open its doors in 2012.  The origins of the project trace back to Sheikh Zayed, The Desert Falcon. In the early nineties he came to Cleveland Clinic for a kidney transplant. This carried on a long tradition of care for Arabian royalty at the Clinic.

Frosted glass and onyx are featured in the interior of the hospital.

The project is at a mind boggling scale. It “will house five clinic floors, three diagnostic and treatment levels and thirteen floors of critical and acute inpatient units.” This hospital with not only transform Health Care in the region. I believe the innovations and systems being developed at this unique institution will pioneer global Healthcare’s Next. I can only hope I get to tell the full story in a long form documentary which will explore all the details.

Until next time with much love,

Tommaso

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