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.

The “artist” specializes in performances about everyday existence that involve reenacting scenes from her own life, including her birth, when she lost her virginity, and her grandfather’s funeral.  She and her artist husband had set up a “home birth center” space at the gallery, where her exhibition was called “The Birth of Baby X.”  Since the exhibition started, the artist has stayed at the gallery and talked to visitors about motherhood and other issues.  She promised to let interested visitors know when she went into labor, so they could come to the gallery and be inspired by the piece de resistance (or indulge their sick voyeuristic tendencies, depending on your point of view — sometimes those terrible social taboos exist for good reason).

We can only hope that the “artist” and her lucky child now get to live a “performance life” during his first few years on earth.  If having a baby is the “highest form of art,” “performances” that feature the parents waking up at 3 a.m. to feed a screaming infant, changing a runny diaper, and trying to end a two-year-old’s temper tantrum also would make a much-needed statement in the everyday life/social taboo category.

Hey, maybe they can name the baby “Art”!

I was not familiar with McQueen, a radically creative clothing designer who tragically committed suicide at the height of his fame, and I was dubious of waiting in line to see clothing.  But I learned that McQueen’s work is extremely interesting, even for someone who is not stylish or, for that matter, even cognizant of stylishness.  McQueen’s creations, which use unusual cuts and fabrics and components, strike deeper chords that touch even fashion-know-nothings like me and address issues like gender empowerment in fascinating ways.

The design of the exhibition — which marries sound, McQueen’s creations, and video — is very well done, and I give The Met credit for focusing on fashion design as an extension of art.  However, my enjoyment of the exhibition was greatly hindered by the fact that The Met staff let so many people enter at a time that it became impossible to really appreciate McQueen’s creations.  The throngs of people pushing and shoving to get better views are just too distracting.  I don’t mind waiting in line — and the wait for this exhibition was probably about a half hour — but once you get in you should be able to step back and appreciate McQueen’s work  without risking an elbow to the ribs or getting run over by a wheelchair.

Bridges and other well-designed forms of municipal infrastructure can be as artistic and lovely as the most high-priced piece of public art.

Husain, who often was called “India’s Picasso,” was a highly controversial figure.  He was an artist who did not shy away from the public or from political or religious themes in his paintings.  Indeed, Husain’s representations of Hindu deities in certain paintings got him into trouble in India, causing his home to be vandalized and eventually leading him to leave India and live in the Middle East.  He died in London.

Husain’s artwork is quite interesting, although it is not well known in the United States.  His most controversial painting apparently was Mother India, which I have posted with this piece and which shows a naked woman on a map of India.  Conservative Hindus were outraged by the piece and brought lawsuits against Husain for obscenity and sacrilege; the India Supreme Court eventually upheld dismissal of several of the cases because in India there is a deep-rooted tradition of sexual iconography and portraying nudity in artistic work.  Imagine, bringing an obscenity and sacrilege lawsuit based on a painting!

It was a brilliantly sunny day, and there was a large crowd.  The Festival is set up in a rectangular pattern around a two-block area, providing good foot traffic flow and making it easy to see all of the artist tents as well as the music and poetry stages, the food and drink areas, and the “hands on” activities that are being offered.  There was a wide variety of art on display and for sale — ranging from different styles of paintings, to some very interesting sculptures, to jewelry, to some distinctive kinds of folk art — and visitors were interested and, in some cases, buying.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time.  The only unpleasantness came when an officious woman who was manning a tent that sold painted ceramics came out and objected to my taking a picture, saying it could impair the value of the artist’s intellectual property.  (Sorry about that, lady!  Next time post a “No Photos” sign, and I promise I’ll avoid your “intellectual property” like the plague!)

The Arts Festival runs until 10 p.m. tonight, and from 11:30 a.m. until 6 p.m. tomorrow.  If you haven’t made a visit, it is well worth your time.  Just be careful with those cameras!

Why do I like Free Stamp?  Because this is a whimsical sculpture that will inevitably grow more interesting as time goes by.  When the sculpture was created, paper was the preferred medium of business, and ink pads and stamps that said things like “Paid” and “Handle with Care” were used routinely.  Of course, in the business world you wouldn’t need a stamp that said “Free,” so the sculpture was a bit of a joke.  But now, as paper has gone the way of the Dodo and electronic transmissions are in vogue, I doubt that any business buys or even uses stamps anymore.  And that is what will make this sculpture even more interesting in years to come.  What will people who grow up in the age of email and the cloud, and in the ages of even more advanced communications forms to come, think when they see this giant sculpture, and will they even dimly understand what it is supposed to be?

Although the conditions were not what you might find in a museum, the venue worked because the empty building had plenty of space that allowed each student to place their pieces on bare walls in one or more rooms.  The shabby surroundings — with exposed wires, damaged floors, and cracked windows — gave the place an eclectic feel that was well-suited to the eclectic mix of artwork being shown.  And what a mix it was!  There were paintings, and ink drawings, and pieces made of wax, and pieces made with lights, and toasters, and strings and mirrors, and flimsy chairs chained to the floor.

Russell’s pieces primarily occupied two rooms, although a few of his works were scattered at other locations in the building.  As always, we enjoyed seeing Russell’s works.  One of Russell’s friends mentioned that Russell is good at creating space in his pieces, and I thought that was a really interesting observation.  It also looks, to my uneducated eye, like Russell is experimenting with shapes and working with different kinds of objects that get away from reliance on the standard, rectangular canvas.  One of my favorite pieces, shown above at the top of this post, was totally outside normal canvas-oriented artwork, and the unusual shape really added to the feel the piece created.

There was a good crowd at the event, and we got to meet some of Russell’s professors and friends.  From looking at the show, it seems obvious that the collective Vassar arts community has had a real impact on Russell’s art — and my guess is that the reverse is true, too.

Whenever a child picks a college and then starts school, the parent holds his breath.  Will it be what he expected?  Will he make friends?  Will he get a good education?  Most importantly, will he be happy?  Or, will you get the dreaded middle-of-the-night phone call from the weeping child who says they hate the school and just want to come home?

By all of these standards, I think Vassar has been a good choice for our son.  Russell has been happy there.  He seems to have received a solid liberal arts education that has challenged him intellectually.  He has enjoyed the arts curriculum at Vassar.  His range and, I think, his confidence as an artist has grown.  He has made many good friends who hail from every corner of the country.  He learned how to play rugby and traveled with the team to Ireland.  He received an award that allowed him to spend a memorable, sweaty summer traveling throughout Vietnam and creating art in the midst of the Vietnamese people.  He participated in a number of art shows and got to organize the Vassar contribution to the Masters on Main Street exhibit.

And, when he receives his sheepskin on Sunday, he will have completed his schooling in four years and be ready to move out into the world.  It is hard to believe that that day has come so soon — but it will be an occasion worth celebrating.