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.
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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