MFA - Boston II : 2026-08

I had another trip to Boston and I made a quick visit to the Museum of Fina Arts (MFA). Having been there before, I felt less pressure to rush through and that was a nice change. Even visiting twice, I still haven't seen everything. Even if you see most of the permanent collection, there's likely to be a change in the exhibitions which will give the opportunity to see new things. I was pretty stoked because one of the exhibits was "Picasso, Miró, Dalí: Unbound" and that is right up my alley. When I arrived, however, it was actually Livres d’Artiste: Picasso, Miró, Dalí. I'm not saying it wasn't good, just not what I expected. The "unbound" was a play on words for the livres d'artiste. They were excellent and a pretty good idea if you had a decent collection of work.

The pictures below were placed throughout the exhibit and provide a good explanation.

The two pictures above are the only two I took of the Unbound exhibit. It's the cover and title page of "Moïse et le Monothéisme" (Moses and Monotheism). The drawing on the right of the title is classic Dalí and the cover is a a great rendition of Michelangelo's Moses. The cover is well done, but Michelangelo's Moses is one of the works I call perfect. I was very fortunate to see it and it was basically by accident in 2006. His David is arguably perfect, but if you ever see his Moses, you'll see what I mean - completely under appreciated, about which I don't understand.

The front of the museum - this time with Dallin's Appeal to the Great Spirit statue included.

Center: an interesting 'cloud' formation which also served as a light fixture in one of the hallways.

On the right, is just a door. I took it to make a point about art. If I'd said it was a painting or sculpture by a famous artist, would you have looked at it differently? It has its own aesthetic appeal but it's "just" a door - which is used more than a piece of art.

(L) Werner Drewes, Who Visits My Peaceful Garden, 1949, oil on canvas

(C) Edward Hooper, Room in Brooklyn, 1932, oil on canvas

(R) Roman, Muse with Head of Juno, late 1st century, marble

I took a picture of Drewes work and purposely placed it next to Hooper's piece. Drewes was known for his pioneering geometric and non-objective abstractions from the 1930s and 1940s, and he has works that appeal to me. However, in this instance, Drewes piece compared to Hooper is just stuff shoved into a scene while Hooper's is coherent. I understand the concept of geometric and abstract work, but I feel there's an assumed appreciation of the "stuff" in Drewes piece because it's in an museum. It's not a commentary on abstract work or Drewes work, but it is a commentary on why this piece would be in a museum. Maybe the contrast between the two was the objective. They are placed next to each other. I took a pic of the Muse because it 1) has a mis-fit head and 2) it is the largest Roman statue in the United States which is pretty cool.

Alice Neel, Linda Nochlin and Daisy, 1973, oil on canvas

George Hawley Hallowell, St Michael Slaying the Dragon, 1925, oil on canvas

William Rimmer, Evening (Fall of Day), 1869–70, crayon, oil and graphite on canvas

The Neel painting was a good reminder that paintings that aren't photo-realistic or overly concerned about details can convey just as much feeling if not more. The Hallowell painting simply struck me as I stook there gazing on. Evening was a incredible drawing. Rimmer probably drew dozens or hundreds of things so it's pretty epic when some get saved and preserved. It's 150+ years old.

L: Frank Duveneck and Clement John Barnhorn, Tomb effigy of Elizabeth Boott Duveneck, marble

C and R: Edward R Thaxter, Meg Merrilies, circa 1881, marble

The effigy was not only well done, it just made me think about the amount of work involved in a marble statue. And to get the details achieved here and in Meg Merrilies must be painstaking. There is a bronze version of the effigy in Florence. The things you don't know when you're somewhere earlier. The same feelings pushed me to take a pic of Meg Merrilies. The details and emotion captured in marble are remarkable. Of more interest, Thaxter was only twenty-four years old when he died, but in his brief career as a sculptor he garnered praise for his work and was deemed an artist with a promising future. Meg Merrilies is the ugly, half-mad gypsy in Sir Walter Scott's novel "Guy Mannering" (1815).

L: Edward Steichen, Moonlit Landscape, 1903, oil on canvas

C: Hermann Dudley Murphy, Moonlight, Woodstock, 1905, oil on canvas

R: Edwin Austin Abbey, The Bridge, 1898, oil on canvas

I love moon and nightscapes so these two struck a chord. They were in close proximity which was pretty neat, too. Steichen was a pioneer in fashion photography, which I found interesting. I took a picture of The Bridge because I struggle with faces. If one can paint a face like this (the jester's face), I would imagine you could paint anything. I also captured it because of the indignant look cast by the onlookers as the jester plucks away.

L: Sarah Wyman Whitman, Rhododendrons, circa 1880, oil on panel

R: Washington Allston, Elijah in the Desert, 1818, oil on canvas

I thought the boldness of Whitman's piece was fantastic. The Allston was one of those paintings I wanted to see. I'd seen it elsewhere but never the actual painting. I love the crows bringing the bread.

L: John Singer Sargent, The Judgement of Paris, 1922-24, oil on canvas

C: Sketch for Chiron and Achilles, 1922-24, oil and graphite on canvas

R: Nude Study of Thomas McKeller, circa 1917-20, oil on canvas

This is the Sargent section and I'm a big fan. The sketches/studies above and below are amazing to me. These are his sketches. Below, right, was a must see of mine. I've seen in on many webpages and in many books and it was so cool to see it in person. It was smaller than expected - which I know is often the case of famous paintings. However, his other work, including these sketches - tend to be larger so it was a bit of a surprise. Here's a great list of paintings by Sargent. He was what we'd call a rockstar.

L: Sketch for Perseus on Pegasus Slaying Medusa, 1922-24, oil and graphite on canvas

C: Sketch for Atlas and the Hesperides, 1922-24, oil and graphite on canvas

R: Rehearsal of the Pasdeloup Orchestra at the Cirque d'Hiver, circa 1879-80, oil on canvas

L: James Whistler, Nocturne in Blue and Silver: the Lagoon, Venice, c 1879-80, oil on canvas

C: Albert Bierstadt, Wreck of the "Ancon" in Loring Bay, Alaska, 1889, oil on paper on Masonite

R: Winslow Homer, The Lookout - "All's Well", 1896, oil on canvas

Whistler and Homer - and both darker scenes. How great is that? Yes, Whistler did Whistler's Mother (actually called Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1), but he did so much more. And Homer...he's a legend in my mind. The center piece was just an excellent use of light and splash of color. I can see why Bierstadt painted it. Also, it's on paper which is quite interesting. Below is just another Winslow showing excellent energy. Like I've said before, if you're in the area, the MFA Boston is a must see.

L: Winslow Homer, The Fog Warning, 1885, oil on canvas

R: My ticket

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Dirtfarm : 2026-08

Dirtfarm

22 August 2026

Acrylic on canvas

24 x 18 in (61 x 45.7 cm)

FOR SALE

I painted this with no planned outcome. I originally had four streaks of green which I turned into some sort of plant life. I painted in the bird next to them. I like birds and I like crows, and I was pleased with the made-up plants. You can see that combination in the first frame of the gif. I did my best to keep them in but as you can see in later stages, something wasn't clicking for me. The earlier sky was better (in my eyes) but when I made the clouds more distinct, I think I lost much of the feel. I might go back and add some rose to the sky and/or add another made up stock. For now, I'm calling it complete. This was painted on a blank canvas so there's no physical history to the title. At one stage, it looked windier and dustier so I was thinking dust bowl. I went with Dirtfarm instead.

A gif showing some stages. It sat for a couple days then about a day's worth of work.

This is the frame currently holding Dirtfarm. It's a repurposed frame and I'll probably

make one which will look very much like the Blushcreek frame.

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Frist Art Museum : 2026-08

Front of the building - very cool place. Originally the main post office

from the Classic and Art Deco eras of architecture.

I had some time in Nashville and it turned out the Frist Art Museum was only about ten minutes away on foot. It was pretty warm out, but I had to take a look. Like other visits, I will post things that caught my eye - they may or may not have follow-on comments. I did happen to visit when "International Surrealism from Tate: Fifty Years of Dreams" was one of their exhibits (all the pieces are on loan from the Tate). That was very fortuitous. There was a poster for that exhibit which read...

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AUTOMATISM: Angel Images

In its founding Manifesto au surrealism (Surrealist Manifesto), published in Paris in October 1924, André Breton famously defined surrealism as: “Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express ... the actual functioning of thought.” He believed that overexpression on rational thinking hindered creativity. Breton instead advocated for “automatism,” a loosening of conscious control via processes indebted to the associative method of Viennese psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud.

In pursuit of uncovering repressed impulses, Breton encouraged surrealist writers to release latent psychic energies by expressing spontaneous thoughts and juxtaposing unrelated phrases. This would take the form of automatic writing, aimed at liberating the author from self-censorship by writing without correction and deciphering any conventional meaning and grammar.

Breton’s manifesto was explicitly focused on writing, the visual arts rejected surrealism only a brief mention in the footnote. However, by the time the first surrealist exhibition was held a year later in Paris, Breton encouraged critics to “draw upon a purely interior model.” His adaptive model of automatism was left to the imagination of each artist.

Many surrealists began to develop their own automatic processes, such as improvising drawing of “chance,” gestural brushwork, dripping, spelling, or scoring point across rough surfaces (called grattage) to stimulate new images. Automatism let artists “suppress thoughts and feelings” and generate images without intentional control. In this way, automatism could be conceptually similar to chance art.

These processes revealed what artist Adrian Dax called in 1950 a “liberating re-education of sight.”

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L: Max Ernst, Forest and Dove, 1927, oil on canvas

C: Dorothea Tanning, A Mi-Voix, 1958, oil on canvas

R: Aubrey Williams, Abstract painting, 1959, gouache on paper

I had to take the pic of Forest and Dove because I just keep running into Ernst's work and I'm not disappointed. I took the Tanning picture for a few reasons. She was married to Ernst (of which I don't think I knew), this painting is one of those that just grabs me, and she lived to 101 which is a good run. The Williams piece had good colors and nice bold lines - something I try to work on.

L: Stanley William Hayter, Untitled, 1946, oil on canvas

C: Leonora Carrington, Do you know my Aunt Eliza?, 1941, ink on paper

R: Jackson Pollock, Yellow Islands, 1952, oil on canvas

I thought the boldness and colors of Hayter's piece worked well together. The depiction of the Aunt by Carrington is priceless. I took a picture Yellow Islands simply because I hadn't seen it.

L: Wifredo Lam, Ibaye, 1950, oil on canvas

C: Merlyn Evans, The Mark of the Beast, 1940, oil on canvas

R: Yves Tanguy, A Thousand Times, 1933, oil on canvas

I thought Ibaye and The Mark of the Beast were interesting combinations of Cubism and Surrealism. I also appreciated the palettes of both. I took a picture of Tanguy's work because it seems inspired by Dali. Interestingly, he was actually inspired by the words of Giorgio de Chirico. He stumbled across The Child's Brain by Chirico and resolved to become a painter even though he had no formal training. It's pretty cool to be so motivated by a painting. Tanguy was known for his dreamlike images. Apparently, if you paint dreamy scenes they can look like Dali's work. He kind of gets the dream crown.

L: Salvador Dali, Autumnal Cannibalism, 1936, oil on canvas

C: Pablo Picasso, Head of a Woman, 1924, oil on canvas

R: Dorothea Tanning, Murmurs, 1976, oil on canvas

The Dali was taken because it's a Dali and I don't think I'd seen this one. I thought I might have in a Paris show in the Pompidou, but can't be sure. The Picasso is here because I hadn't seen it and because it's good to see his cubist work in a most-basic form. Murmurs is here because the lighting is fantastic. As an aside, it was painted the year her husband, Ernst, died.

L: Leonor Fini, Untitled (Praying Mantis), c1970, watercolor on paper

C: Max Ernst, Men Shall Know Nothing of This, 1923, oil on canvas

R: Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1944, watercolor and ink on paper

I thought Praying Mantis was an excellent representation of figures in watercolor and with a limited palette. The Ernst isn't here as a particular favorite - rather, it's much different than his other work I've seen. That can be said the for the Rothko. I prefer his later work, but it goes to show that anything from someone famous seems to have value. Would the Tate have this from another artist? Maybe - that would be the mystique of art - it grabs you or it doesn't.

L: Tristram Hillier, Variation on the Theme of an Anchor, 1939, oil on canvas

C: Wolfgang Paalen, The Messenger, 1941, oil on canvas

R: Max Ernst, Moon in a Bottle, 1955, oil on canvas

I thought the variation on an anchor was quite an interesting variation. I also like how he created his own kind of stone/sand on which the anchor rests. I thought the colors and strokes of The Messenger were impressive for a 1939 painting. The Ernst is terrific - in my eye - the colors and the scrapes and the subject matter. The sky and its bodies are wonderful.

L: Joan Miró, Women and Bird in the Moonlight, 1949, oil on canvas

C: Alexander Calder, T and Swallow, 1936, wood and steel

R: Anila Quayyum Agha, A Flood of Tears (Gathering Storms), 2023, multimedia

I thought the Miró was elegant in its own way - maybe it was the colors more than the image, but that's art. I snapped the Calder because I'd seen several of his mobiles in the SFMOMA and this piece was recognizable as I approached it. It's always interesting to see patterns and A Flood of Tears was all about patterns. And light, as you'll see below.

L: Anila Quayyum Agha, All the Flowers Are for Me (Red), 2016, laser cut stainless steel

C: Jaune Quick-to-See Smith, Cree Prayer Series #5, 1978, acrylic and pastel on paper

R: Mary Sully, Amelia Earhart, colored pencil, graphite and watercolor on paper

I thought All Flowers Are for Me was a pretty cool installation. The cube 'floated' very well and the resulting shadows added a great effect. I'm not sure if the Cree Prayer was #5 (there were 1-5) but I liked its simplicity and dark colors. They had several works from Sully. I took a picture of Amelia Earhart to capture the idea although it probably wasn't my favorite. I also used it as the example because she's well known. Sully passed away in the great state of Nebraska.

L: George Morrison, Three Surrealist Forms-Automatic, 1984, color pencil, ink, & wash on paper

R: Dorothea Tanning, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, 1943, oil on canvas

I thought the figures of Morrison's piece were intriguing, and the Tanning piece is probably her most famous. It will appear if you start searching Dorothea Tanning. It was good to see it in person. Below are bulding shots. On the left is the main hall of the gallery - very cool building. I'm glad they saved it and converted it into the Frist. Walking back, I was quite struck by the building on the right. Even more impressive was it's a courthouse - the Fred D. Thompson U.S. Courthouse and Federal Building.. Nashville setting the tone.

(L) Hallway of the Frist, (C) the front of the courthouse and (R) my 'ticket' sticker.

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