James Surls, Star Flower, Irving Arts Center Sculpture Garden, Irving, Texas
James Surls, Star Flower
reflection
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James Surls, Star Flower
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James Surls, Star Flower
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James Surls, Star Flower
inverted reflection
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Sculpture by the side door to the Irving Arts Center, Irving, Texas
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Reuben Nakian, Goddess of the Golden Thighs, 1964-65/Cast 1969-74, Bronze
Irving Arts Center, Irving, Texas
Goddess of the Golden Thighs, Reuben Nakian
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I don’t care anymore what anyone thinks. It doesn’t matter, you know, what I do or what I say. I just try to keep busy. Even my art’s, you know. . . . I do things just to keep busy. I don’t give a goddamn if. . . . I don’t even care to go to the Metropolitan Museum, and that was like a sacred place for me, and that meant, you know, I don’t even care to go there. So, Jesus, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m bored and blasé, you know. But I think my eyes. . . . I can’t see too good. Then I’ve been tired, I have a cold in my system. And it stays all summer and I’ve been tired as hell. Well, I’m feeling a little better now; maybe the cold’s worn off. I’ve got a little more pep. But when you’re saggy and tired and your eyes are not too sharp, you know, I get depressed.
—-Oral history interview with Reuben Nakian, 1981 June 9-17, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution
David Smith, The Forest, Nasher Sculpture Center, Dallas, Texas
The Forest, David Smith
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From The Estate of David Smith – David Smith’s Statements
The Question—What is Your Hope
Original version, Smith notebook 28 (c. 1940s) final version c. 1950
I would like to make sculpture that would rise from
water and tower in the air–
that carried conviction and vision that had not
existed before
that rose from a natural pool of clear water
to sandy shores with rocks and plants
that men could view as natural without reverence or awe
but to whom such things were natural because they were
statements of peaceful pursuit–and joined in the
phenomenon of life
Emerging from unpolluted water at which men could bathe
and animals drink–that
harboured fish and clams and all things natural to it
I don’t want to repeat the accepted fact,
moralize or praise the past or sell a product
I want sculpture to show the wonder of man, that flowing water,
rocks, clouds, vegetation, have for the man in peace who
glories in existence
this sculpture will not be the mystical abode
of power of wealth of religion
Its existence will be its statement
It will not be a scorned ornament on a money changer’s temple
or a house of fear
It will not be a tower of elevators and plumbing with every
room rented, deductions, taxes, allowing for depreciation
amortization yielding a percentage in dividends
It will say that in peace we have time
that a man has vision, has been fed, has worked
it will not incite greed or war
That hands and minds and tools and material made a symbol
to the elevation of vision
It will not be a pyramid to hide a royal corpse from pillage
It has no roof to be supported by burdened maidens
It has no bells to beat the heads of sinners
or clap the traps of hypocrites, no benediction
falls from its lights, no fears from its shadow
this vision cannot be of a single mind– a single concept,
it is a small tooth in the gear of man,
it was the wish incision in a cave,
the devotion of a stone hewer at Memphis
the hope of a Congo hunter
It may be a sculpture to hold in the hand
that will not seek to outdo by bulky grandeur
which to each man, one at a time, offers a marvel of
close communion, a symbol which answers to the holder’s vision,
correlates the forms of woman and nature, stimulates the
recall sense of pleasurable emotion, that momentarily
rewards for the battle of being
Mac Whitney, Ovilla, Blanco #17, 1985 steel, paint
Mac Whitney, Blanco #17
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Mac Whitney, Blanco #17
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Mac Whitney, Blanco #17
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Closeup of the crazing in the ice sculpture at the Dallas Contemporary
The ice sculpture at the Dallas Contemporary
The last moments of the ice sculpture at the Dallas Contemporary
I have always been fascinated by ice as a sculptural medium. It is cheap, versatile, and, most importantly, temporary. It is fixed in time. What you see now is totally unique, it will never be repeated.
The coolest ice sculptures were Dane Pennington’s Transcendence – from the Arts District a couple years ago. Larger than life figures and monoliths slowly melted – releasing stones that were imprisoned within. I kept going downtown day after day to watch them melt.
Transcendence, on the first night.
Transcendence, on the first night.
After a day of melting in the rain
A few weeks ago, I went on (and wrote about) a fun bike ride organized by Dallas Cycle Style. It started at, and was part of, The Dallas Contemporary 35th anniversary celebration. Out in front of the Contemporary was an ice sculpture called SCABhenge, built by the Socialized Contemporary Artists Bureau.
It had been out all night and the ice had crazed and was falling apart. I was there for its final demise, melting in the Texas afternoon.
If you watch this time lapse video closely, you can see a few bicycles from our group go by.
First, let me tell a little story. It’s a story I’ve told too many times before, and if you know me, you’ve probably heard it more than once. But if I type it out here, maybe I can get it out of the way, and quit repeating myself.
When I first moved to Dallas, in 1981, I had no money (and I have no money now… how does that work?) and lived with some friends in Oak Cliff until I saved enough to get an apartment. I rode the bus down Sylvan and then across the Trinity River on Commerce into Downtown, where I worked in the Kirby Building (now converted into condominiums). The bus would go past the Belmont Hotel every day – I think it was abandoned at the time. It was a very nasty area in those years – if you stood on that corner very long you would probably get your throat cut.
I would tell people, “That Belmont property is so cool. Someone needs to buy it and fix it up. It sits up on a hill with a great view of downtown – wonderful Dallas Art Deco architecture. It’s a shame, somebody needs to do something.”
They would reply, “You are crazy. You’ll get your throat cut down there.”
Now, thirty years later, the Belmont is restored into a cute little boutique hotel, it boasts a famous restaurant, and the area around it is booming with cool hipness. I was thirty years ahead of my time… but then again, a stopped watch is right twice a day.
Thats out of the way….
Saturday the Dallas Contemporary was celebrating their thirty-fifth anniversary and they contacted Amanda Popken of Dallas Cycle Style to set up a bike ride from their location to look at a series of murals that they had commissioned/sponsored/managed in a few different spots. This looked like a lot of fun.
I decided to ride my vintage Technium instead of my commuter bike – in my constant efforts to keep the thing working I have rebuilt the rear wheel, lacing new spokes around a new hub and cassette and truing the thing – so I wanted to give it a try. I rode my bike to the train station for the ride downtown and, as always, right after I bought my ticket for the DART train at the Arapaho station, the train pulled in. You have to cross a street through a tunnel to get to the platform, so I usually miss my train and am therefore late for whatever I have planned. This time I hauled ass down the tunnel and caught it right as it was pulling out. The transit gods smiled on me that day.
There was a good bunch of bicyclists and we headed out from the Dallas Contemporary down to Commerce and across the river to the Belmont – following the bus route I remembered from thirty years ago. Along the side of the cliff up to the hotel three murals were painted. The first by Shepard Fairey (he’s best known for the Obama poster), the second by JM Rizzi, known as JMR, and the third by local artists Sour Grapes.
Bike tour group in front of the Belmont Hotel murals.
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Shepard Fairey mural at the Belmont Hotel, Dallas, Texas.
Sour Grapes mural at the Belmont Hotel, Dallas, Texas.
Closeup of the Sour Grapes mural at the Belmont Hotel, Dallas, Texas.
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One really cool part of the ride was that each stop had a talk by a docent – Erin Cluley from Dallas Contemporary who talked about the process of setting up the murals and getting the artists into town and working. I was particularly interested in how the out-of-town artists adapted their work to the more conservative attitudes here and what they thought of the city in general.
Erin Cluley, the docent giving a talk on the murals in front of the Belmont Hotel
From the Belmont, we went down the street and around the corner to Trinity Groves – a very interesting area of restaurant incubation. There were more murals by Shepard Fairey and JMR, plus some work by FAILE – a pair of Brooklyn based artists that had an amazing exhibition back at the Contemporary.
The murals from
Trinity Groves.
Shepard Fairey mural at Trinity Groves.
FAILE mural at Trinity Groves.
FAILE uses the year 1986 in their work – the year of the Challenger Disaster.
Murals by FAILE and Shepard Fairey, Trinity Groves, Dallas, Texas.
Bike tour stopping to look at a mural by JMR. The Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge and Downtown Dallas in the background.
It was time to ride back to the Contemporary, where there are murals by Fairey and JMR.
Back at the Dallas Contemporary.
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Shepard Fairey mural at the Dallas Contemporary.
JMR mural at the Dallas Contemporary.
The ride was a lot of fun and very educational – now I’m going to be looking for murals all over the city.
In downtown Dallas, across Main Street from the Joule Hotel – the hotel with the cool pool, a giant eye has appeared – like a monster from a horror movie – mysterious – it just sits there, thirty feet high… staring. The thing is a sculpture by Tony Tasset. It really is big… and pretty odd to look at – especially at night.
Giant Eye Sculpture, Main Street, Dallas, Texas
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Giant Eye Sculpture, Main Street, Dallas, Texas
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I still have some photographs left over from Aurora. An amazing thing.
North Texas Light Brigade – in front of the Symphony Hall.
Aurora 2013, Dallas, Texas
Aurora 2013, Dallas, Texas
Bill Chance 