November 9, 2015

An Art Opening in New York City, circa 1980

What follows is an excerpt from my new novel, ELORA, a Goddess which takes place in Manhattan in 1981. The story of innocent corrupted, it is available in both print and e-book editions from Amazon.


When Trish was over the worst of her flu, but not quite back to normal, she got out of bed in order to take Elora to a vernissage, a private viewing of an exhibition of new paintings at a gallery in Soho. Flu or no flu, Trish did not want to miss this opening. The gallery and the artist were too important, and Trish knew that if she did not make an appearance her name would be struck from the invitation list and she would never be invited to another such occasion.

In this case, it was generally believed among the cognescenti in the Soho subculture that both the artist and the gallery were on the brink of something major -- what form that something would take was as yet unclear. It is impossible to say how such assurances come into being; whether it is the result of the concentrated and deliberate effort of the artist himself, along with his friends and someone with power and a vested interest, in other words the effort of many, or whether it is something of a cosmic and fateful nature. But the origins of such beliefs as “he is up and coming” or “he’s hot” or “she’s going places” are as obscure and impossible to trace as the origins of a joke. Who can tell how such rumors get started and how they grow into an accepted truth? Is it merely the constant repetition of one person telling another? Cocktail parties, bars, and other gallery openings are breeding grounds for that kind of information, but they alone are not solely responsible. The question is as confounding as it is intriguing: how is it that certain artists become all the rage while others slip ever more inexorably into oblivion? It cannot be talent and talent alone which is the deciding factor, nor is the facile maxim of being in the right place at the right time an adequate explanation to elucidate this mystery. And in America, where self-worth and success in anything are measured by popularity and money, where success has been exalted to a kind of religion, the mystery of who succeeds and how they succeed, the sheer glamour of success and successful people, has become a national obsession. But mysteries do not remain mysteries for very long in America -- they are swiftly dispatched, transformed into puzzles, problems with logical solutions, formulas that need only be studied, applied and worked out; hence the never-ending flood of information about success and successful people. Americans, with their jackpot mentality, love a good Horatio Alger-type success story -- it inspires them, it brings out the best in the national character, and it provides an example which, if scrutinized long and hard enough, will yield up, like hieroglyphics for those who have learned how to read them, all of the secrets of wisdom necessary to emulate success. And if success is a pseudo religion, then those who succeed are automatically the clergy of that religion, the high priests and priestesses, the wizards, warlocks, and witches. Success endows those fortunate few with an irresistible magnetism, and before they know it, willy-nilly, they have become the figurehead of a new cult. But for those who need more than money to make their lives meaningful, there is always art . . . no, Art . . . to take the place of the old mysticism, and so the galleries, theatres, and lecture halls become the new temples for the observance of this new-found religion. And so it was that in Soho, that refurbished area of chic boutiques and cast-iron facades where immigrants from the Lower East Side once groaned in sweatshops and factories now converted into designer lofts where artists languish in creative torment and existential angst, the faithful were flocking to the Omphalos Gallery on West Broadway between Prince and Spring Streets, just south of
Houston. The one-woman exhibition there was called “Motherlode” and it consisted entirely of paintings in various media of the female reproductive system.

The vernissage was scheduled for the customary five to seven on a Friday evening, and the obligatory wine-and-cheese was being served. An oak table was set up with the wheels of brie, hunks of Havarti, blocks of cheddar, and a bushel basket of baguettes and several smaller baskets filled with crackers; there were many jugs of wine lined up, mostly California chablis but also a few of rosé and one of burgundy. The wine was being served in plastic cups and the cheese, on bread or crackers, was being eaten off napkins. The gallery was one huge barn-like open space crammed full of people munching, drinking, and chattering. This particular gathering of the faithful was outfitted in fashions that ran from one end of the spectrum to the other: from classic conservative to outlandishly bizarre. Many of those who were wearing flashy clothes seemed to have dressed as though under the impression that they and not the paintings were the works of art to be gazed at and admired.

The people filled the floor, and the paintings took up every bit of available wall space. The individual canvases themselves were enormous, ranging in height from six to fifteen feet with none of them smaller than a double-sized bed sheet. The theme of the show, as mentioned, was birth and the female reproductive system, every aspect of which, from conception through delivery, was explored in the most explicit detail. One work, entitled “The Black Hole,” showed a pair of thighs spread open to the widest possible degree, with all the layers of the genitalia, the outer and inner labia, revealed and magnified for microscopic inspection. Another, called “Circle of Birth,” was a gigantic canvas depicting seven women giving birth simultaneously. Accompanying this painting, which was executed in kaleidoscopic images, there were seven smaller pieces, each showing a close-up of the birthing women’s faces, some of which grimaced with pain while others were serene and radiant with the joy of motherhood. “Circle of Birth,” together with its satellite paintings, comprised the centerpiece of the exhibition, a sort of culmination of the theme, and it was overpoweringly stunning by virtue of both its size and the excellence of its realistic detail. Although there were some paintings which included men, mostly portrayed as sexual partners, carriers of the seed, and passive witnesses to the birth, the show was de- voted entirely to women and this unique female experience. To Trish Weaver, the exhibit was a comprehensive statement, a summing up of the agonizing, euphoric, and ultimately solitary pleasure of giving birth, with men presented appropriately as mere adjuncts.


Most of the people who attended the opening were women -- artists, professionals, journalists -- and the excitement was running high. Amid this scintillating constellation, Trish Weaver was a luminary of special brightness, a recognizable face whose presence bestowed a certain honor and dignity upon the occasion, as it was well known that her principles were beyond reproach and that her participation gave the imprimatur of a coalition of many intellectual and very fastidious feminists. This was acknowledged by the fact that the artist, a middle-aged Jewess with short black hair shot with streaks of silver, spoke to her without arrogance or condescension.

August 22, 2015

Slow Art

The more I listen to Bach’s cello suites, the more emotionally satisfying they become. They are meant to be savored, like a snifter of the finest cognac. One doesn’t gulp down a superior cognac, one swirls it around in the glass, breathes in the aroma, and sips it slowly. Would it be hubristic to compare my work to Bach’s cello suites? What I mean is that I believe my paintings deserve slow and careful contemplation. A lot of contemporary art can be taken in with a single glance. The images, like so much in our modern society, are intended for quick consumption, and they do not merit prolonged viewing. By contrast, my art rewards the viewer who takes the time to look at it in a leisurely and thoughtful manner. They are meant for slow gazing. They are slow art.

August 19, 2015

The Economics of Life in San Miguel

HOUSING and STUDIO SPACE

If you are planning to move to San Miguel for at least a year or more, do it by the beginning of 2016 if possible. Rent prices are going up fast.  Rent for a decent 2 bedroom with studio space and a patio in the middle-class bohemian neighborhoods of San Antonio and Guadalupe used to go for around $4000 pesos. Now the same size houses are renting for $400-500 USD if you rent from gringos. Most expat landlords (and there are quite a few) are setting rents in dollars rather than pesos. That’s significant because of the strength of the dollar (now at 16.40 pesos). Obviously it’s a better deal if you can pay rent in pesos, which means renting from a Mexican owner. Soon even they will be renting in dollars, or dollar equivalents.

FOOD

The cost of a good meal in a decent restaurant is going up. A full-course broiled salmon lunch used to cost 140 pesos – it’s now 200 pesos. Tikka chicken at a curry house was 95 pesos and is now 150 pesos. Chicken parmaggiano at a family-run Olive Garden-type Italian restaurant is 120 pesos, but over 200 pesos at a finer place. Wine will cost at least 70 pesos a glass, beer 30 pesos minimum. Of course there are many small family-run restaurants where you can eat good Mexican food for 50 to 100 ´pesos. A buffet in Centro charges 70 pesos for all you can eat. The one gringo-run restaurant exception is a popular place called Cafe Monet – a decent sandwich goes for 50 pesos and the daily special will set you back about 80 or 90 – they’ve held their prices down for years without compromising the quality of the food and the old world decor.

There are two major supermarkets in town, Soriana and Mega. Their prices are inching up. You and your partner will spend an average of 900 pesos per week if you buy a lot of meat, 750 if you only buy chicken and fish for four meals. Plan to spend more if you want beer and wine. A six-pack of good Mexican cerveza goes for an average of 70 pesos. Table wine from Carlo Rossi is 82 pesos; anything else from California, Europe or South America is in the 150-250 peso range.


CLOTHING


Good, durable clothing is hard to come by in San Miguel. At Liverpool, the Macy’s equivalent, you will pay 900 pesos for a pair of Dockers or Levis for men, 800 pesos for a shirt, and 800 pesos for Flexi shoes (excellent quality and made in Mexico). Women will have to pay considerably more. However, women can shop at consignment shops (there are many), but none for men for some odd reason. Every one, children and adults, can find an occasional bargain at the tianguis – a huge open market that is open once a week, and there are smaller markets in almost every neighborhood where you can shop 7 days a week.



IN CONCLUSION


San Miguel remains a relatively inexpensive place for artists to live and work, but this may not last much longer. The SOHO effect is taking hold here. Artists have made this city a truly wonderful place, and now the affluent are moving in and driving up prices. 

July 15, 2015

"We Are Sick of Frida"

Someone in town is holding an “I’m sick of Frida” fashion show. I couldn’t agree more. Some times I can imagine I hear a great cry going up from the city of San Miguel: "WE ARE SICK OF FRIDA!" Yes, we are sick and tired of the exploitation of Frida Kahlo. Time to let go and move ahead with something new. There are certainly many other equally important and interesting Mexican artists, artists such as Rufino Tamayo, Federico Cantu Garza, and Leonora Carrington .  Here's some biographical information about these artists courtesy of Wikipedia:

Rufino Tamayo (August 26, 1899 – June 24, 1991) was a Mexican painter of Zapotec heritage, born in Oaxaca de Juarez, Mexico. Tamayo was active in the mid-20th century in Mexico and New York, painting figurative-abstraction with surrealist influences.

Federico Heraclio CantĂș Garza (March 3, 1907 – January 29, 1989) was a Mexican painter, engraver and sculptor. While considered to be a member of the Mexican muralism movement, his style was noticeably different, mostly for adhering to older and more academic forms of painting and sculpture. He had his most success exhibiting in the United States and Europe, but he did murals and sculptures in Mexico.

Leonora Carrington OBE (6 April 1917 – 25 May 2011) was a British-born Mexican artist, surrealist painter, and novelist. She lived most of her adult life in Mexico City, and was one of the last surviving participants in the Surrealist movement of the 1930s. Leonora Carrington was also a founding member of the Women’s Liberation Movement in Mexico during the 1970s.

June 10, 2015

Epigrams

The seriousness of an artist can be measured by the degree of his willingness to live in poverty.

A good painting should possess an element of magic, the magic of childhood.

Making art helps you redeem yourself.

Intelligence without imagination is like a bird without wings.

Do not fear making mistakes in art. Mistakes can be magic moments when the intellect slips, thereby giving up control and allowing the power of divine nature to take over, guiding your hand to greater things.

June 5, 2015

The San Miguel Gallery Syndrome

1. Artists get together and talk about how to promote and sell their work. They decide to form a group with other artists.

2. This group becomes a cooperative business venture. They decide to open a gallery and share expenses.

3. With the usual hoopla, the gallery opens. They have an opening party with plenty of wine and botanas. The artists are in high spirits and optimism runs high.

4.  A few months later, attendance begins to decline. They decide to have more openings with wine and botanas. They are spending more money than they had been expecting. Hardly any work is sold as a result.

5. Feeling a little dismayed and disappointed, they decide to advertise.

6. With advertising, their expenses go up rapidly.

7. They decide to invite more artists to join their co-op in order to share expenses.

8. More openings with wine and botanas. Very little work is sold.

9. They decide they cannot afford more parties and advertising. Attendance drops off.

10. The group decides it must do something to bring in more money. Desperate, they offer art classes. More money is spent on advertising.

11. The art classes are only moderately successful, and they struggle to stay afloat in a fiercely competitive environment.

12. The members begin to despair. Some drop out. Most of he original core members remain, determined to see it through to the bitter end. It begins to look hopeless. Finally, the gallery sinks beneath the waves with a last gasp and a whimper.

April 16, 2015

da Vinci's Birthday

Yesterday, April 15th, was Leonardo da Vinci's birthday, but there was barely a mention of it in the media. Google did not have anything on their home page. Why not, I wonder? Do they consider his work over-exposed? Then why not use one of his lesser known images, a drawing of a fetus or a machine perhaps? Seems like a strange omission. da Vinci's coming into the world was a miraculous event, and should always be acknowledged, regardless of how often we've seen his work.
Shame on you, Google!

February 22, 2015

The Hype! The Hype!

Sadly, San Miguel is changing from a city of hipsters to a city of hypesters. And saddest of all, most of the hypesters believe their own BS.

(The title of this "thought for the day" is a reference to Joseph Conrad's story, The Heart of Darkness. My apologies to those who got it.)

February 20, 2015

Being an Independent Artist, Less Secure but Free

Here’s a quote I came across in Janson’s The History of Art, and which I like exceedingly well: “To subject the artist to the impersonal pressure of supply and demand in an egalitarian society is not necessarily worse than to make him depend on the favor of princes. The lesser men will tend to become specialists, steadily producing their marketable pictures, while artists of independent spirit, perhaps braving public indifference and economic hardship, will paint as they please and rely for support on the discerning minority. . . Even the greatest masters were sometimes hard-pressed (it was not unusual for an artist to keep an inn, or run a small business on the side). Yet they survived – less secure, but freer.” (pp. 424-25) I salute those artists, like myself, whose fiercely independent spirit keeps them free despite the hardship they must endure.

More on the Branding of Art

A well-established painter here has started calling himself “a baroque artist for the 21st century,” (I thought most artists were ba-roke – ha, ha), but, frankly, I don’t see the baroque quality in his work. The Baroque movement (1600-1750) began in Rome with such artists as Caravaggio and Cranacci, and moved north, where it was exemplified by Rubens and Rembrandt. Baroque art characteristically has movement, dramatic light, and rich color, none of which I see in the painting of this San Miguel artist. (My own work seems more baroque.) Also, his paintings are devoid of perspective – the scenes and figures are presented with a flatness that I dislike and which cannot be considered “baroque” by any stretch of the term. So what we have here is another example of meaningless labeling, in order to “brand” his style. The branding of art is something I abhor, and I am quite dismayed that this otherwise serious artist, whose work I greatly admire, would stoop to that. And while I’m on the subject, he is scheduled a “pop-up” exhibit at a local gallery called The Bordello Gallery, a name I find most contemptible because of its suggestion that artists are whores. 

February 17, 2015

Outrageous Extravagance

Three hundred million dollars for a Gauguin painting seems a bit excessive. Has the art market entered a period of collective insanity? Are collectors vying for first place in the Outrageous Extravagance category? Are high-end buyers going off the deep end? The madness of artistic genius seems to pale before the madness of buying for the sake of outdoing other buyers in the game of one-upsmanship. Where and when will it stop? Would an individual artist refuse to make a sale because it is too high? Of course not. Would an artist sell a painting knowing it would be buried in someone’s private collection and never be seen by the public? Most likely. The higher the price paid for a work, the more it drives up the prices for other work by the same artist. The value of a work seems more and more to be determined by extraneous factors such as the artist’s moral depravity. Can an artist who lives a quiet life become famous for being a recluse and thereby increase the value of his work? Perhaps. But that route to fame will probably only come to fruition posthumously. And so the game of selling art gets more and more like an unstoppable runaway train.

January 15, 2015

My New Gallery

Well, I've decided to take the plunge into gallery ownership. My new gallery is called LES FEMMES GALLERY and it features my iconic images of women. At the moment it is an online gallery only. Please take a look. Here's the link http://www.lesfemmesgallery.com

Yearning, oil on canvas, by Anthony Maulucci