Showing posts with label Vincent Van Gogh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vincent Van Gogh. Show all posts

22 October 2018

Starry Bike Path?

I know I've posed more than a few ridiculous questions, on this blog and away from it.  I seem to have a penchant for them.  So here comes another:  If Vincent Van Gogh were to design a bike lane, what would it look like?

My question isn't, I believe, as frivolous or flippant as it might seem.  I've long felt that we are more sensitive to light and color when we're pedaling. (At least, I feel that I am.)  That might be a reason why cycling and photography go so well together, and why any number of riders I've known (including current riding buddy Bill) are fine photographers.  


I also have another reason for my question:  There is actually a Van Gogh bicycle path in the Dutch town of Nuenen, where Vincent (Yes, I'm on a first-name basis with him! ;-))worked from 1883 until 1885. During that time, he completed The Potato Eaters, one of his early masterpieces.


Interestingly, the path is more evocative of a later and better-known masterpiece of his.  I am talking about Starry Night, which has inspired all sorts of other work--including the only Don McLean song besides "American Pie" most people can name.  


To me, the path is a work of art in its own right.  Although the swirls and colors in it echo Vincent's painting, it has a different effect:  The painting is its own dynamic, while the environment of the path creates its plays of light and color.  





The path, designed by artist Daan Roosegarrd, is paved with colored stones that are charged in daylight and emit twinkling light--mostly in blue and green--at night.  When so lit, the path displays parts of the painting as you ride on, or look at, it.


From what I've read and heard, the Van Gogh path has turned Nuenen, near Eindhoven, into an atrraction, if not a destination, for tourists.  While it contains several homages to its most famous resident, most Van Gogh pilgrimages include Arles, the Provencal town where he painted Starry Night, and the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam.  Only those who are really in the know about the artist make a detour to Nuenen, whose other distinction is that it was the site of a battle in the significant, but unsuccessful (for the Allies) Operation Market Garden in World War II.


Some folks thousands of kilometers away believe that they can help to continue the revitalization of their city by capturing Nuenen's lightning (all right, light) in a bottle.  It's a "rust belt" city in the US that, like a few others, has sought to revitalize itself by using its history and culture to create a vibrant arts scene.  


In other words, Hamilton is trying to do what a much larger city at the other end of Ohio--Cleveland--has been doing.  Other cities in that part of the United States, like Grand Rapids, Michigan and Milwaukee, have had recent success in stemming, at lest in part, economic decline wrought by the relocation or disappearance of manufacturing industries.






In such cities, as well as in neighborhoods like Bushwick, Brooklyn, the emphasis has been on public art, like sculpture and murals, that can make use of industrial sites and structures as a backdrop, or as material for the works themselves.

Something like the Van Gogh bike path would fit such communities, especially one like Hamilton, which has a very popular bike/walking path along the Miami River.  It also just happens to pass the Fitton Center for the Creative Arts and a sculpture garden.  Wade Johnston, the director of Tri-State Trails, thinks it would be a great spot for a similar sort of path--or, at least one where "public art and beautiful landscaping" could "promote a sense of place" and--not insignificant to city leaders--"encourage reinvestment in Hamilton."


As much as I love art, I am enough of a realist to acknowledge that the arts can't replace high-wage factory jobs.  But, as neighborhoods like Bushwick and cities like Cleveland (once the butt of jokes, many of which referred to a river that caught fire) have shown, the arts can provide other opportunities and encourage talented, creative people to live and work in areas other people abandoned.

30 June 2018

A Contest After My Own Heart: Bicycles And Art

I'll admit:  This post is little more than an excuse to display an image I like.

Is this how Van Gogh would have painted a bicycle?





Whatever the intent of the artist, it's great for promoting a bicycle-themed art contest.  (Well, it got my attention, anyway!)  "The Bicycle:  Art Meets Form" is an invitational juried show sponsored by the Theatre Art Galleries in conjunction with the High Point Cycling Classic.  Winning works will be exhibited from 30 August until 28 September.


If you're interested in entering, you have until 25 July. 
For more information, go to http://tagart.org/.


Good luck!  


20 August 2016

The Music Of The Spheres (Or The Wheel, Anyway)!

The Music Of The Spheres (Or The Wheel, Anyway!)

Now, I know most of you, my dear readers, are sensitive, socially-conscious people.  (Even if you aren't, nod in agreement!)  So, I'm going to share some "forbidden knowledge" with you that I know you never, never will use.  Right?  (Again, nod in agreement!) It's something I never, ever used myself and wouldn't, in a million years, ever use. Really!

OK, here goes:  If you really want to insult a musician (or, more precisely, someone who fancies him- or her-self as one) and be politically incorrect (Now why would you want to do that?), here is what you say:


"You're a real artist.  You have a Van Gogh's ear for music."


Now, I assure you, I love Van Gogh more than any Japanese banker who paid $100 million for one of his paintings.  (When you're poor, you console yourself by saying things like that!)  One of the high points of my second bike trip in Europe was stopping in Arles and sitting on the cafe terrace Vincent graced with his paintbrush.


So... what would it be like to have a Van Gogh's ear for music--at least, before he did that little bit of DIY surgery on himself?  Somehow I think he would have heard things most of us can't.  After all, isn't his painting about seeing what most of us don't?  (Perhaps the same could be said for any great artist.) Sometimes I think that in "Starry Night", he was hearing--and feeling, and perhaps even smelling and tasting, as well as seeing-- all of those lines and colors as he painted them.  


Likewise, I wonder what other artists heard in the music they listened to.  Many a writer has expressed his or her perceptions about Mozart, Marley and Monk, as well as musicians in every other part of the spectrum--and alphabet!   But we don't often hear what painters, sculptors and others who work in visual media feel when they listen to musical maestros.  If they were to turn to pianos instead of palettes, or using their voices instead of violet and vermillon (or cellos instead of celeste green)--or if they composed instead of chisled--what kind of music would they make?


(Let's hope that if they write, they won't over-use alliteration!)


I believe I may have stumbled onto what sounds Marcel Duchamp might have made had he turned at least one of his objets into a musical instrument:




Now tell me:  Whatever you think of him, who else but Frank Zappa could have done it?  


And who else but Steve Allen could have gotten away with bringing a then-unknown musician onto his show, and letting said musician do, basically, what ten-year-old boys (and, sometimes, girls) had been doing for decades with their bicycles?  Who else could have, in front of a national audience, treated such a musician as if he were, well, a musician?  


At the time of that broadcast--1963--most American audiences weren't ready for the Beatles or Bob Dylan, let alone Frank Zappa.  I'm not sure Steve Allen was, either.  At least he deserves credit for his willingness to expand his own horizons--which, of course, was the first step in helping to expand the horizons of his audience.


What would Marcel Duchamp have played on that bicycle wheel in his studio?  


Marcel DUCHAMP, Bicycle wheel



25 September 2015

Pedaling Into The Wind--And Understanding Vincent?

On Sunday, I felt I had done a Fall ride, even thought the season hadn't "officially" arrived and the temperature felt more like early summer.  But the signs of the season were there, including fallen leaves on a trail.  And the wind into which I pedaled on my way up to Connecticut had an autumnal tinge to it.

Today, I rode into an even stiffer wind out to Point Lookout.  At least when I rode to Connecticut, I was pedaling Arielle, my Mercian Audax, and could shift gears.  On the other hand, I had to push my way through an even stiffer wind on on a fixed gear:  I chose to ride Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, because the route is flat and, well, I felt like riding a fixed gear.

When I got to Point Lookout, I saw this





and thought, "I pedaled into that?!!"




I could feel the effort in my legs, but they didn't ache and I wasn't tired.  I just needed a little nourishment and hydration.  Best of all, I felt I was experiencing an elemental, intimate truth through my senses, as if an old wound had turned into a pore, an ear, an eye.




The wind seemed to be a form of light.  And that light was a motion, the "motion" part of "emotion":  a life force that illuminated and moved everything in a dance of the sprit--which I don't mean in a religious way.




Visions of Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night", "Irises" and "Mountainous Landscape behind Saint-Remy" flashed through my mind.  Of course, there is some visual connection between what I saw today and what Van Gogh painted from his asylum room.  However, I soon realized why I was thinking of Van Gogh, and those paintings in particular:  They, more than any others I've seen, render those transformations and transmutations of light, wind, motion, emotion and the life force I was seeing in Point Lookout.




I then realized that my favorite visual artists do exactly that, each in his or her own way:  The forces of nature and the forces of the human spirit--in other words, the very forces of life itself--become, not only manifestations or expressions of each other; they become each other and they seem to emerge from the canvas, paint, stosne, bronze or whatever the artist used.  




Now, you might think all of this is just hallucinatory rubbish resulting from an overflow of endorphins after riding into a 40-50 KPH wind.  If it is, well, what can I say?  It was still worth it.  The ride, I mean.