Friday's A/C-inspired field trip: The Frick
So, keeping with our theme of seeking out cheap air-conditioning, Myles and I went to 2 museums today. Normally, museums do not fall under the cheap category, but for the two we visited today, we were able to take advantage of particular circumstances that permit gratis admission. For the second (which I may post about tomorrow or at least later this weekend), the Carnegie Museum complex, Kate has a membership. For the first, the Frick, admission is always free. Free is good! (As opposed to $100 to get into the Tut exhibit)
Please don't confuse the Pittsburgh Frick with the New York Frick. When I talk to people not from Pittsburgh about the Frick here, I have to be clear that they don't think I am dumb enough to confuse the two. Both are homes of Henry Clay Frick that have been left with their artwork to be run as museums. The Pittsburgh home was his first major mansion, the one where he lived at the time of the famous Homestead riot. He left Pittsburgh after the riots for New Yotk. His masion there is what is now the Frick Collection. His daughter, Helen Clay Frick, preferred Pittsburgh to New York (yeah, you read that right) and even lived at Clayton, the Pittsburgh estate, at the time of her death. Helen Clay Frick wished for the estate and the museum she built there to be open to the public. Backed by some serious Frick money, most of the programs are free to this day.
One of the things I have remarked before, probably here, but definitely in New York to Peter Hristoff is how great small city museums are. While they do have some short-comings, and they will never compete with the big guys, the small city museums work hard to bring or construct exhibitions that would go otherwise unnoticed in a larger city or wouldn't warrant the effort at a larger museum. I've really seen some fantastic shows at the Speed in Louisville, Kentucky (at least one of which was also coincidentally shown at the Pittsburgh Frick). But these same shows in New York or Philly or DC, where there are many, many museums, would have barely registered on the radar. Not because they are significantly inferior, but that in these cities, there is so much else going on, these smaller shows would have to be sought out.
Anyway, our late morning at the Frick was well worth the trip. It actually isn't that far from Kate's house, and we could have taken a bus to get there. The museum is kinda funny if you think about it. Built in the late 1960s, it is very museum looking. It sits behind the house, just a ways, but still, Helen Clay Frick was still living in the house at least part of the time when the museum was being built. Oh, Helen, what is that in your yard? Oh, just an excavator. For your new pool? No, my museum.
Anyway, since it is Miss Frick's (as she is referred to on the website and around the Frick) museum, at least some of her personal collection is on display. Her tastes are predicatable for her generation and class--a lot of 18th century very pretty French paintings, and similar period English portraits. There's a Rubens and a Boucher that are big-time museum quality. These are all good for Myles because we can pick out the dogs, the babies, the people who are dancing, etc. Highly respresentational art is easy for a toddler to get into.
One of the special exhibits is Marvels of Maiolica: Italian Renaissance Ceramics from the Corcoran Gallery art Collection. We didn't spend too much time in this area because toddlers+ceramics=DISASTER. On the walls around the maiolica (not to be confused with the later English craft of majolica) are shown some of Miss Frick's devotional art--a lot of altar pieces. When Myles and I did venture briefly into this exhibit, he wanted to see the paintings. I think I may have mentioned this before here, but Myles is a big Jesus-spotter (I wish I could take credit for that word, but I heard it from Kate's neighbor Christine). Usually, when we are at an art gallery, or a museum, or sometimes jsut reading a book, any image of a thin bearded man will get Myles to point and say, Jesus. Certainly he is usually right, but a few times it has been an amusing assumption on his part. Anyway, there are Madonnas among the altar pieces, and when I point out to Myles that that is the Baby Jesus with her, he starts saying, "No, Myles. Baby Myles." Aim high, kid :-)
Our primary focus of our visit to the art museum side of the Frick was to see the photographs of Margaret Bourke-White, but only up to the late 1930s (so her famous Buchenwald photos are not included) This was a fantastic and comprehensive collection that shows Bourke-White's formative years when she photographed for Fortune magazine and for commercial clients, like NBC and Alcoa. In fact, Alcoa was fittingly the major underwriter of this show. The photos from this period include some glorious images of industry and urban America of the 1930s. Her arrangements of light/dark and her consciousness of form and shape create the lasting industrial images of the period. This website has the curatorial notes written out if you are interested. Also, the Post-Gazette review can be found here.
This was also a good show for Myles, because of Bourke-Whites use of some very primary concepts--shapes, shadows, etc. There were a few groups of school-age African-American children there for an "educational" visit and they had different games for them to play with the art. The were given a sliver of and image, and they had to find the photo it was taken from. They had to find certain shapes and tell where they saw them. I used this one with Myles, particularly since in addition to being a Jesus-spotter he is really into finding shapes in real life.
We found a lot of circles, like this one
or this one
There are also many photographs that you would recognize immediately as icons of the 1930s. I prefer the industrial pictures, not just because of my own manufacturing background, but I just love the way she romanticizes industrial subjects. She elevates the dirty work, if you will, to some sort of glowing nirvana of human work. The Soviet Pictures are also interesting, but in my opinion, more noteworthy from an historical perspective than the others. The Soviet photos don't hold up as well out of context, but they are especially interesting to view next to the Smiling, optimistic New Dealers.
There was one photo of a welder, and I was explaining to Myles that the welder was just like Papa (my father-in-law was a welder by trade and continues to weld things in his garage). Myles kept wanting to come back to the picture of Papa, as he called it, and he started to cry when we left, saying, "Papa, Papa..." in his best tragic toddler voice. I guess it is about time to make the rounds to the grandparents' homes.
Please don't confuse the Pittsburgh Frick with the New York Frick. When I talk to people not from Pittsburgh about the Frick here, I have to be clear that they don't think I am dumb enough to confuse the two. Both are homes of Henry Clay Frick that have been left with their artwork to be run as museums. The Pittsburgh home was his first major mansion, the one where he lived at the time of the famous Homestead riot. He left Pittsburgh after the riots for New Yotk. His masion there is what is now the Frick Collection. His daughter, Helen Clay Frick, preferred Pittsburgh to New York (yeah, you read that right) and even lived at Clayton, the Pittsburgh estate, at the time of her death. Helen Clay Frick wished for the estate and the museum she built there to be open to the public. Backed by some serious Frick money, most of the programs are free to this day.
One of the things I have remarked before, probably here, but definitely in New York to Peter Hristoff is how great small city museums are. While they do have some short-comings, and they will never compete with the big guys, the small city museums work hard to bring or construct exhibitions that would go otherwise unnoticed in a larger city or wouldn't warrant the effort at a larger museum. I've really seen some fantastic shows at the Speed in Louisville, Kentucky (at least one of which was also coincidentally shown at the Pittsburgh Frick). But these same shows in New York or Philly or DC, where there are many, many museums, would have barely registered on the radar. Not because they are significantly inferior, but that in these cities, there is so much else going on, these smaller shows would have to be sought out.
Anyway, our late morning at the Frick was well worth the trip. It actually isn't that far from Kate's house, and we could have taken a bus to get there. The museum is kinda funny if you think about it. Built in the late 1960s, it is very museum looking. It sits behind the house, just a ways, but still, Helen Clay Frick was still living in the house at least part of the time when the museum was being built. Oh, Helen, what is that in your yard? Oh, just an excavator. For your new pool? No, my museum.
Anyway, since it is Miss Frick's (as she is referred to on the website and around the Frick) museum, at least some of her personal collection is on display. Her tastes are predicatable for her generation and class--a lot of 18th century very pretty French paintings, and similar period English portraits. There's a Rubens and a Boucher that are big-time museum quality. These are all good for Myles because we can pick out the dogs, the babies, the people who are dancing, etc. Highly respresentational art is easy for a toddler to get into.
One of the special exhibits is Marvels of Maiolica: Italian Renaissance Ceramics from the Corcoran Gallery art Collection. We didn't spend too much time in this area because toddlers+ceramics=DISASTER. On the walls around the maiolica (not to be confused with the later English craft of majolica) are shown some of Miss Frick's devotional art--a lot of altar pieces. When Myles and I did venture briefly into this exhibit, he wanted to see the paintings. I think I may have mentioned this before here, but Myles is a big Jesus-spotter (I wish I could take credit for that word, but I heard it from Kate's neighbor Christine). Usually, when we are at an art gallery, or a museum, or sometimes jsut reading a book, any image of a thin bearded man will get Myles to point and say, Jesus. Certainly he is usually right, but a few times it has been an amusing assumption on his part. Anyway, there are Madonnas among the altar pieces, and when I point out to Myles that that is the Baby Jesus with her, he starts saying, "No, Myles. Baby Myles." Aim high, kid :-)
Our primary focus of our visit to the art museum side of the Frick was to see the photographs of Margaret Bourke-White, but only up to the late 1930s (so her famous Buchenwald photos are not included) This was a fantastic and comprehensive collection that shows Bourke-White's formative years when she photographed for Fortune magazine and for commercial clients, like NBC and Alcoa. In fact, Alcoa was fittingly the major underwriter of this show. The photos from this period include some glorious images of industry and urban America of the 1930s. Her arrangements of light/dark and her consciousness of form and shape create the lasting industrial images of the period. This website has the curatorial notes written out if you are interested. Also, the Post-Gazette review can be found here.
This was also a good show for Myles, because of Bourke-Whites use of some very primary concepts--shapes, shadows, etc. There were a few groups of school-age African-American children there for an "educational" visit and they had different games for them to play with the art. The were given a sliver of and image, and they had to find the photo it was taken from. They had to find certain shapes and tell where they saw them. I used this one with Myles, particularly since in addition to being a Jesus-spotter he is really into finding shapes in real life.
We found a lot of circles, like this one
or this one
There are also many photographs that you would recognize immediately as icons of the 1930s. I prefer the industrial pictures, not just because of my own manufacturing background, but I just love the way she romanticizes industrial subjects. She elevates the dirty work, if you will, to some sort of glowing nirvana of human work. The Soviet Pictures are also interesting, but in my opinion, more noteworthy from an historical perspective than the others. The Soviet photos don't hold up as well out of context, but they are especially interesting to view next to the Smiling, optimistic New Dealers.
There was one photo of a welder, and I was explaining to Myles that the welder was just like Papa (my father-in-law was a welder by trade and continues to weld things in his garage). Myles kept wanting to come back to the picture of Papa, as he called it, and he started to cry when we left, saying, "Papa, Papa..." in his best tragic toddler voice. I guess it is about time to make the rounds to the grandparents' homes.
Comments
And not just toddlers! :-)