The set-up gives the Festival a more airy and open feel than I found at last year’s Festival.  It also gives the visitor a chance to check out the Scioto Mile park area and cross Columbus’ two cool new downtown bridges, which are works of art in their own right.  The Rich Street bridge features an interesting series of buttress supports, and the Main Street bridge uses an unusual inclined arch superstructure and has a wide pedestrian walkway. I think the two bridges, the downtown buildings, and the Scioto Mile features do a really nice job of framing the Festival and making it a visually appealing venue for the artwork.

When I was at the Festival this morning there was lots of foot traffic and apparent purchases, some fine jazz being played at the main stage, and the heady smell of street food in the air.  The Festival runs until 10 p.m. tonight and from 11:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. tomorrow.  If you’re in Columbus this weekend, it’s well worth a visit.

Munch painted four versions of The Scream in 1895.  Three are in museums in Norway, Munch’s native land.  The fourth is being auctioned tonight.  It is expected to be sold for at least $80 million, and if it fetches more than $106.5 million — the current record — before the auction is gavelled to a close, The Scream would become the most expensive painting ever sold.

It’s not hard to see why The Scream has become an instantly recognizable image in modern culture.  The mindless horror evoked by the image of a screaming man on a bridge under a lurid sky can be used to capture our reaction to things as diverse as the futility of daily life, senseless crimes, and the Holocaust.  I’m sure that more than one Norwegian dealing with the mass murder committed by home-grown madman Anders Breivik thought of The Scream when they read about Breivik’s unpardonable crimes.

It would be fitting if a painting that is so accessible, and so aptly related to modern life in so many respects, became the most expensive painting ever sold.

As we walked the high-altitude wind continued to work on the cloud shards, pushing them eastward and shredding them at the same time.  Five minutes later, the delicate brushstrokes were gone.

Cloud formations teach you to enjoy the moment.

For a year or so, Russell used our basement as a studio, and if he felt like creating some art on the walls, he just did it.  Since he’s left home, the artwork has been covered up by the other things we’ve stored down there.

Now, as we are trying to get rid of the clutter and moving out the debris, we’re happily discovering that terrific artwork anew.  It’s like removing cheap linoleum tiles and finding beautiful wood flooring underneath.

The portrait at right was painted directly onto the side of the stairs leading down into the basement.

Americans can and do disagree about what happens inside the Capitol, but we can all agree it is a beautiful building.  The dome is a particularly inspiring architectural feature — enormous yet somehow delicate, perched atop the rest of the structure, its cavernous insides swallowing up the voices inside.  It’s like an architectural metaphor for a sprawling country that moves forward despite the tiny voices of political discord.

I like the back lit view of the Capitol because it accentuates the majesty of the dome, with the day’s dying sunlight streaming through and the features set in sharp relief.

Yesterday — with the Arnold Sports Festival in full swing — the City dedicated this colossal rendering of Arnold Schwarzenegger.  It’s located outside the Veterans’ Memorial Auditorium, where many of the Arnold events are held, just across the river from downtown Columbus.

The statue is a depiction of Arnold in his full Mr. Olympia glory — huge fists clenched, muscles bulging, rope-like veins popping everywhere, face set in impassive concentration, in the pose that Arnold made famous.  It is somewhat larger than life, although still smaller than the statue of Christopher Columbus in front of City Hall.  I suppose that’s only appropriate, although if you took a vote of the people who are in Columbus right now, Arnold would easily outpoll Chris for the top spot in the Most Titanic Figure contest.

The statue has a pretty good likeness of Arnold’s face, which is why it inevitably brings to mind — uncomfortably, in my book — the Terminator movies.  I look at the statue and expect the metallic Arnold to turn his head slowly, focus with a red mechanical eye, then step off the pedestal and begin slaughtering the masses in his search for Sarah Connor.

Not yet — but now a robot has been programmed to draw human portraits.  It’s an industrial robot that has been programmed.  The process uses a camera, software that seeks out contrasts while not focusing on every tiny feature in a human face, and the precise movements of a robot arm.

The result is a rendering of a human face that is competent and lifelike — but I wouldn’t call it art.  What makes a great portrait is not simply the professional technique used to create the likeness, but the creative spark that highlights the feature that really defines the subject.  Perhaps it is the spark in the eyes, or the set of the mouth, or the tilt of the head, but the skilled artist will always find and accentuate the special quality that defines the individual.  An artist who draws everyone in precisely the same way isn’t really a portrait artist in my book.

So, Russell’s chosen field is safe, at least for now.  What’s next — robot lawyers?

The effect is mesmerizing, as the mind whirs in its attempt to impose order on the chaos and seeks to find patterns and images in the randomness.  It’s like laying on your back on a sultry summer’s day, staring at clouds and seeing shapes and faces.

World Of Black And White

World Of Black And White (II)

World Of Black And White (III)

Consider Neil Young, for example.  He’s been a fixture of the rock ‘n’ roll scene since the 1960s and has had successful musical releases in each of the intervening decades.  But, even by the high standards of his career, the 1970s were remarkable.  Consider the astonishing albums he produced during that magical decade:  After The Gold Rush (1970), Harvest (1972), Tonight’s The Night (1975), Zuma (1975), American Stars ‘N Bars (1977), Comes A Time (1978), and Rust Never Sleeps (1979).  Many musicians would gladly claim what he produced during that single, prolific decade and call it an entire career.

And what a range!  He moved effortlessly from acoustic work that included all-time folk classics like Old Man (performed live below), Heart of Gold, and The Needle And The Damage Done, to country songs like The Old Country Waltz and Hey Babe, to crushing power rock, with Like A Hurricane and Hey, Hey, My, My (Into The Black).  He wrote great political anthems (Ohio), funny, boozy ballads (Saddle Up The Palomino), raggedy, ironic songs about losers (Tired Eyes) and long, dreamy ruminations about ancient civilizations (Cortez The Killer).

We can all be grateful for whatever it was that impelled Neil Young, again and again and again during the 1970s, to pick up his guitar or sit down at his piano and let his awesome creative juices flow.  As a diehard Neil Young fan, I can’t imagine what the music world would be like if he hadn’t done so, and I was left to face life alone, without songs like World on a String.  But I will always wonder — just what was it?

Eisenhower clearly was one of the greatest Americans of the last century.  He led the Allied Expeditionary Force that invaded Europe and defeated Nazi Germany.  In that role, Eisenhower showed extraordinary political instincts and the ability to meld, and placate, disparate nationalities and personalities.  He was elected the 34th President, served for two terms, and left office a popular figure.  During the Eisenhower years America was prosperous and at peace, focusing on huge internal improvements like the interstate highway system and social and cultural developments like rock ‘n’ roll and television.  The Cold War with the Soviet Union was underway in earnest, and Eisenhower deftly managed to keep intermittent crises from turning the Cold War into a hot one.  His presidency also saw the federal government taking an increasing civil rights role that culminated in Eisenhower’s decision to send federal troops to ensure the integration of Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas.

How do you memorialize such a figure?  The Eisenhower Memorial designed by architect Frank Gehry contemplates an area in which three large metal tapestries create an interior space.  The tapestries will feature images of Kansas, where Eisenhower was born.  Within the tapestry walls will be green space, passages from three Eisenhower speeches, and three depictions of Eisenhower — as a barefoot boy, as a general, and as president.

Eisenhower’s descendants don’t like the design.  They wonder if the metal will rust, they don’t like the focus on his boyhood rather than his accomplishments, and they want the work on the memorial to be postponed to allow for reassessment of the design.  Other critics call the design “ghastly” and say the memorial fails to really communicate why Eisenhower was such a significant figure — which, they submit, is one of the main reasons for a memorial in the first place.

The opposition to the design caused the National Civic Art Society to hold a contest seeking a more classical design.  The winning entry proposes a memorial arch with depictions of Eisenhower as general and as president along with two fountains.

The National Mall area is like America’s town square.  We all feel a special pride about it, and we all have an opinion about how it should look.  Some people love the classical designs and want only more of the same.  Others urge that we experiment with other styles and approaches.  I’m not sure Americans care a great deal about the design; I think they care more about the concept and the execution.  The Vietnam War Memorial was controversial when it was proposed — depicted as a sad, black gash in the ground — but it is now a must-see for most Americans who visit Washington, D.C.  That memorial, with its somber, sinking feeling and the grim weight of those thousands of individual names, is as impressive and awesome in its own, unique way as the nearby Lincoln Memorial is in its classical fashion.

So, I’m not opposed to the concept of metal tapestries, per se, so long as they are created to withstand rust and the elements.  Instead, I question what is depicted on the tapestries.  Eisenhower certainly was shaped, in some part, by his Kansas childhood, but there was much, much more to his life.  Bucolic scenes of rolling countryside don’t communicate anything about the man, his beliefs, and his achievements — and indeed seem to distract from them.

Yesterday, as we waited in the Christopher Street/Sheridan Square station for the next train, I was struck by the lattice-like appearance of the tracks and steel pillars.  It was like a lesson in drawing to one-point perspective, sprung to life and ready to be enjoyed by anyone who noticed.

The proposed piece would be abstract, six stories tall, made of reflective metal, and shaped like . . . the cooling tower of a nuclear plant.  Not surprisingly, some people are questioning that design.

I like the idea of putting a large piece of public art along the Scioto Mile.  I think it should be a bold statement, not some timid, compromise product of a committee.  We don’t need another realistic sculpture like the big statue of Christopher Columbus in front of City Hall.  I’m not sure how I feel about the “cooling tower” design — it seems like the shape is so defined with nuclear plants that viewers won’t really see or think of anything else — but I’m willing to reserve judgment if that is the piece that is selected.

Anyone who has been to Millennium Park in Chicago knows that people are attracted to large, memorable public art pieces like “the Bean.”  If the “cooling tower” is interesting, fun to look at, well made, and allows for interesting photo opportunities, people will go see it — and that, after all, is the idea.

The video below is about 2 1/2 minutes long and is set to an instrumental version of The Doors’ Hello, I Love You.  It features images of Brooklyn, trains, the Vietnam War, a shoot-’em-up video game, and even a brief peek at the venerable Webner House itself.  I think it’s pretty darned good.

Mount Rushmore was the dream of one man, Doane Robinson, and became the obsession of its sculptor, Gutzon Borglum.  They determined that the huge heads should be carved into Mount Rushmore, and they obtained the support of President Calvin Coolidge and key members of Congress who helped make their dream a reality.  They were capable of envisioning a memorial blasted into the face of a mountain and then figuring out how it could be done safely.  (No one was killed during the construction, despite frequent use of dynamite and other explosives.)

The result is a classically American monument, a testament to American ingenuity and the product of people who dreamed big, bold dreams.  But Mount Rushmore is more than an engineering feat, it is an artistic achievement as well.  Americans who visit Mount Rushmore feels a sense of pride in the accomplishment and a patriotic stirring at the depiction of the four Presidents.  If you’ve visited Mount Rushmore, you’ll know what I mean.