Edzell Arch

Queen Victoria, on her way to the Highlands, used to travel through the tiny Scottish village of Edzell, in the Angus region of Scotland. Thus, the locals built an arch to honor their English queen.

From 1989-1992, I lived a few minutes from the village of Edzell, and the arch was a much visited subject of my drawings back then. Below are some examples of those works from those years. These are all in multiple collections in Scotland and the US.

Edzell Arch, Edzell, Angus, Scotland - as seen from the village - c. 1989

Edzell Arch, Edzell, Angus, Scotland - as seen from the village - c. 1990

Edzell Arch, Edzell, Angus, Scotland - as seen from the Edzell to Fettercairn Road - c. 1991

Scottish road

This watercolor shows a winter snowfall on the road from the Scottish farmhouse (where I lived from 1989-1992 (Little Keithock Farmhouse)) that lead from the farmhouse to the the B966 (I think it was also called the Trinity Road) paved road. It was about a quarter of a mile from the farmhouse to the road, but at night in the winter you could not see your hand in front of your face because it was so dark out in brooding Angus.

Winter Road, near Brechin, Angus, Scotland, c. 1990

Olympic Games Opening

What the hell was that opening all about? Was I the only one who thought it was rather unintelligible? And that opinion is coming from someone who lived in the UK for a few years...

What were those guys (dressed like the Monopoly guy) in the top hats supposed to be?

Jitterbugging nurses and doctors?And the scary huge puppets being taken down by the dozens of Mary Poppins (who looked like giant flies coming down)... and what about that giant creepy baby!

Interesting that the Scottish kids sang an anti-English song (Flower of Scotland)... the ahh... National Anthem of England's pesky Celtic Northern neighbor...

Cool part: When the Olympic rings lit up and rained fire... did anyone notice that one of the rings was sort of "leaking" fire for a bit while all the others had stopped?

Awright... the Queen's entrance was cool too...and that bit with 007 eclipsed the robotic Chinese opening four years ago. And Mr. Bean (Blackadder!!!!) was really funny in that subtle English way

I am a big McCartney fan, but... has Sir Paul become the duty "closer" for anything British (or big name musical)? Didn't we just see him doing the same skit for the Queen's 1000th Jubilee?

And after Kobe and LeBron made the comments about this team being better than the dream team, they better not get surprised by Spain, or Argentina, or some Eastern European country...

I'm just saying... cough, cough...

Little Keithock Farmhouse

Little Keithock Farmhouse, Near Brechin, Angus, Scotland

One of the most influential times of my life were the years that I lived in Scotland (1989-1992). Above is a drawing that I did in 1990 of the farmhouse where I used the live. This haunting (and haunted) place was built in  1681 and there was even an older dovecot right next to it. Its farm fields were adjacent to the Brechin Golf Club, which I think is the second or third oldest golf playing ground in the world.
 
In fact, the dovecot next to it was so much older (built in 1534), that it merited an entry in the Scottish Ordnance Map as an "antiquity," not an easy thing in Europe's most ancient nation.

Anyway, the farmhouse had a beautiful garden, which was surrounded by a tall stone wall. One day, one of the trucks that used the dirt road that ran in front of the house, and led to the nearby potato and turnip fields, lost control, and slammed into the wall, destroying a couple of feet of wall.

A couple of days later, another truck dumped a small pile of new rocks, and soon afterwards an elderly gent showed up, and using nothing but a small hammer, began to rebuild the wall. He re-used the old rocks that had been disturbed by the accident, as well as some of the new ones.

Slowly but surely, over a few days, the wall was rebuilt before my eyes. When it was done, other than the fact that the moss on the stones had been re-arranged, it was impossible to tell that an accident had happened. A year later, the moss was back everywhere and no visual evidence that a chunk of the wall was "new" existed.

Winging it in Europe

Winging It!-In Europe: An Empty Nester's Plan for Travel: Designed for Those Young at Heart but Older of Body by Linda Stringer and Jim Stringer

I did a ton of illustrations for this book back in 1991 when I was living in Scotland and the authors were traveling around Europe gathering data for their book, which has become an underground classic of European travel tips... get a copy here. 

 

Happy New Year's... and on this date:

Rodrigo Llançol de Borja was born on 1 January 1431 in the town of Xàtiva in the Kingdom of Valencia, one of the component realms of the Crown of Aragon, in present-day Spain.

He would become not only one of the most controversial Popes of all time, but also the man who would seed the legend known as the Borgias!

His parents were Jofré Llançol i Escrivá and the Aragonese Isabel de Borja. His family name is written Llançol in Valencian and Lanzol in Spanish.

Rodrigo adopted his mother's family name of Borja in 1455 following the elevation to the papacy of his maternal uncle Alonso de Borja as Calixtus III, the first Spanish-born Pope (and here you thought that until recent times all Popes were Italian!).

Even though for years Rodrigo was a Cardinal and eventually became Pope Alexander VI, he had multiple mistresses, and his children from one of them, Cesar (which was his name and how he signed documents, but known in Italian as Cesare) and Lucrezia, continued his seed and presence in a family destined to become one of western history's most nefarious names.

Via Alexander VI was known for his patronage of the arts, and in his days a new architectural era was initiated in Rome with the coming of Bramante. Raphael, Michelangelo and Pinturicchio all worked for him.[18] He commissioned Pinturicchio to lavishly paint a suite of rooms in the Apostolic Palace in the Vatican, which are today known as the Borgia Apartment.

In addition to the arts, Alexander VI also encouraged the development of education. In 1495, he issued a papal bull at the request of William Elphinstone, Bishop of Aberdeen, and King James IV of Scotland, founding King's College, Aberdeen. King's College now forms an integral element of the University of Aberdeen.

Alexander VI, allegedly a marrano according to papal rival Giuliano della Rovere, distinguished himself by his relatively benign treatment of Jews. After the 1492 expulsion of Jews from Spain, some 9,000 impoverished Iberian Jews arrived at the borders of the Papal States. Alexander welcomed them into Rome, declaring that they were "permitted to lead their life, free from interference from Christians, to continue in their own rites, to gain wealth, and to enjoy many other privileges." He similarly allowed the immigration of Jews expelled from Portugal in 1497 and from Provence in 1498.

Weekend duties

Tomorrow night: Meet the various artists selected for the Strathmore Fine Artist in Residence Program Mentorship. Those artists are:

Minna Philips (drawing/installation)

Wilmer Wilson IV (mixed media/installation)

Brittany Sims (painting)

Solomon Slyce (photography)

Saturday & Sunday: Review the work by the 43 artists from all over the USA and Scotland who have applied to the Torpedo Factory Art Center's Visiting Artists Program of one, two, or three-month residencies between June 1 and August 31, 2011 - then select about a dozen for the residencies.

Kilt talking

Not only do I own (and wear quite often) a kilt, but unlike a lot of kilt-lovers out there, I am actually authorized to wear a kilt, which is an important thing in many kilt-wearing circles and useless elsewhere. And where it is important, it is ahhh... important. I've seen what happens when scotch and unauthorized kilt-wearing mix at the Celtic Games around here and in Braemar: drunk men rolling on the ground kicking and gouging.

I remember a few years ago when a tipsy Coast Guard dude told a very drunk retired Marine that he was wearing the Edzell tartan because he "liked the colors." Soon the two were rolling on the ground: the Coastie yelling blue murder and the jarhead (who had been stationed at RAF Edzell) trying to rip his kilt off.


That's the official US Navy Edzell tartan, an officially recognized and documented Scottish tartan (as opposed to plaids), which is authorized for wear to all personnel who were ever stationed or worked at the now closed Royal Air Force base in Edzell, Scotland, where I served from 1989-1992.

I have a US Navy Edzell tartan kilt (8 yards)... maybe I should post a pic of me wearing it.

And technically, I'm just saying, I could make claims to being entitled to wear also the Lennox tartan, as my mother's grandmother on her mother's side was from Clan Lennox and eventually ended in the Canary Islands during the Clearances.

What's new Buenos Aires?

(The line is from this Evita song; you'll see why in a minute... sorta). And thus, I've decided to take the next step with my artwork.

For years and years, after I graduated from the University of Washington School of Art in beautiful Seattle, I painted. Because I was mostly living in Europe at the time (Spain and Scotland, with a long stint in between in Lebanon and postgraduate school in Monterey), my artwork focused on what was around me and I painted.

When I returned to the US for good in 1992, I also abandoned painting and returned to my love for drawing. A couple of thousand drawings later, I am ready to take my drawing to the next level.

In my heart, I am a storyteller. I like to use my drawing to push ideas, historical points, narrative, agendas, questions and even fantasies. My series of "Written on the Body" drawings, such as the one below (that's the piece selected by Mera Rubell for last year's WPA auction at the Katzen Museum), I told stories by figuratively decorating the bodies of people with writing anchored in current events, literature, history, etc.

"Age of Obama - Nobel Peace Prize" Charcoal on Paper. 16x12 inches.
I going to expand on that storytelling driving force and here's how I'm going to do it: I'm going to marry drawing with video imagery.
First there will be baby steps. The initial idea is simple. I am going to do a drawing much like this one below, of the psychopath Che Guevara, sanctified of his sins by an adoring public who has little idea who the man really was.


San Ernesto Guevara de la Serna Lynch, known to most of the world as 'Ché' and to many Cubans as 'El Chacal de La Cabaña'
F. Lennox Campello. Charcoal and Conte on paper. 15 x 10 inches.
In his chest there will be heart much like the Sacred Heart of Jesus from Catholic imagery and tradition. There will be a cutout within this heart, a window into the heart if you will, and visible there, through the hole in his heart, will be a video, playing in a continuous loop showing newsreel video of Guevara reciting a poem, then the video ends with the public firing squad execution of one of the many Cubans that El Chacal de la Cabaña had killed in 1959.

A simple story about an immensely complex man, told in a video drawing.





Muchas gracias to my good friend Tim Tate, video sculptor extraordinaire for giving me the encouragement (and technical acumen) to proceed in this direction.

PS - If you don't get the Buenos Aires banner: Che was Argentinean, not Cuban. Ernesto "Che" Guevara de la Serna Lynch was born on May 14, 1928 in Rosario, Argentina. An Argentine blue blood, Che was the son of Celia de la Serna, member of one of Argentina's high society families. His mother's lineage was of undiluted, pure Spaniard blood, and one of her ancestors was a Spanish viceroy of colonial South America for the crown of Spain. His father, Ernesto Guevara Lynch was the descendant of both Spanish and Irish nobility, and his parents Roberto Guevara Castro and Ana Lynch had been born in California, where their families had migrated from Argentina during the California Gold Rush. Yes, Che had American grandparents.

Battle of Bannockburn

Today is the anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn (Blàr Allt a' Bhonnaich in Gaelic), which took place on the 24th of June, 1314.

This was an unexpected and significant Scottish victory against English aggression in the Wars of Scottish Independence against its larger and more powerful southern neighbor.

It is celebrated in the gorgeous Scottish National Anthem, "The Flower of Scotland."

McKaig on Steve Szabo at the Harmony Hall Regional Center

By Bruce McKaig

In an eloquent and poetic tour de force, these photographs from the Eastern shore and of boots stuck on barbed wire fence posts in Nebraska provide traces of human endeavor and ritual, traces in various stages of decay, on their way back to the natural elements. The abandoned state is not repellent. It is dignified. There is a Zen-like acceptance of this inevitable transformation. Szabo virtually speaks to viewers (maybe to himself) through these works, each one evenly repeating: Let it go.

This is not an exhibition of portraits, but it is an exploration of people, faceless folk who have left a mark – an object – to weather the elements, not really saying, “I was here,” so much as saying, “Now, I am somewhere else.” The works are all about the human venture to manifest in ritual and ceremony then move on, leaving a trace, an unprotected trace. There is nothing casual, disdainful or disrespectful about the abandoned trace. Tibetans traditionally perform sky burials, which involve abandoning the deceased on a platform to be devoured by vultures. No pyramid for royalty (and mass grave for the rest?), the surrender to nature is a final gesture of modesty, humility, and respect.

Instead of finality, these images explore continuity. Part detective, part archeologist, the artist Steve Szabo provides photographic traces of the traces, platinum prints that tell viewers Steve was there. In connecting viewers with these not-personally experienced signs of anonymous decisions, Szabo provides insight both into the worlds he explored and himself as an explorer.


Born in 1940, Steve Szabo was a native of Berwick, Pennsylvania and worked in the Pennsylvania steel mills. Though he attended Penn State University and the Art Center School of Design in LA, he was basically self-taught. He was employed at the Washington Post as a part time photo lab assistant in 1962, then staff photographer 1966-72.

In 1972, he took a 6-month leave of absence to get away from the hectic world of photojournalism to devote some time to photographing the landscape in Somerset County, MD. Instead of 6 months, he worked on the Eastern shore from 1971-1976 and produced the fine art platinum prints that became his first published book of photographs. In these photographs, the lingering traces of human presence and activities silently persist though the natural elements steadily attack and replace them.

Before beginning the abandoned boot series, he worked in DC, France, Scotland, Hungary, and Hawaii, producing several bodies of work and publishing additional books. In Hawaii, he photographed ruins of ancient temples, another angle on exploring the passing of time. At one point, he produced sets of multiple images, complementing the sense of place with a sense of time.

In 1990, Sazbo began photographing abandoned boots stuck on fence posts in Nebraska. The images of boots unmistakably evolved from previous series exploring traces of now-forgotten rituals (the ruins in Hawaii) and human presence succumbing to natural decay (Eastern shore images). However, the images of the abandoned boots take on a more private, personal quality. He never learned why the boots were there or if they were supposed to mean anything. He never explained why they fascinated him, maybe did not know himself. His enthusiasm and attentiveness to the isolated, weathered boots produced a body of work that, as a whole, have become traces not just of boots but of a man’s drive and curiosity to manifest and, before moving on, to leave a trace.

Stuart Diekmeyer, gallery director at Harmony Hall, worked with Szabo from 1998 until shortly before his death in 2000. In Stuart’s words:

Steve and I spent many weeks organizing and selecting images to print. Even though he could no longer manage a camera and photograph at the level he was accustomed too, I was always amazed and in awe at his uncanny ability to look deep into a photograph and make it come alive through words. He knew the story and every little detail about every photograph he had ever taken. Steve once told me, although he missed using a camera, this trip down memory lane was just as great. Whenever I returned to Steve with new prints to look at, especially images he had himself never printed, there was frequently a long period of reflection followed by a euphoric choice of words. In all matters [of] photography, Steve's passion never faltered

The exhibition was curated by Kathleen Ewing. In Kathleen’s words:

Seeing Steve Szabo's platinum photographs from his "Eastern Shore" series in 1975 was my introduction to fine art photography. I was intrigued by the combination of documentation and personal vision he conveyed in his images of the desolate rural Maryland Somerset County. From that beginning, I began to learn about the great history of photography and the masters like, P.H. Emerson, Walker Evans and so many others which had influenced Steve as he transitioned from a photojournalist at the Washington Post to a fine art photographer and teacher at the Corcoran School of Art.

The exhibition at Harmony Hall is significant on several levels. The photographs on view are from his first series as a fine art photographer, "The Eastern Shore" from 1971 to 1976 and his last series, "Icons of the Great Plains" dating from 1990 and 1991. It is fascinating to see where Steve began and where he ended his photographic career.


"International Truck, Frogeye, Maryland," from Steve Szabo's "Eastern Shore Series"
For the "Eastern Shore" series, Steve used a large format, 8x10 inch view camera to document the rural areas of Somerset County. It was a cumbersome task to carry the heavy camera and a strong tripod into the woods and fields to capture an image.

Steve's approach was to photograph the scene just as he found it; never making any changes or alterations. I'm sure he circled the abandoned International truck several times before he decided to let the window of the open car door frame the Ebenezer Baptist Church off in the distance.

Later, Steve seemed to think the image was too predictable and contrived. Personally, I felt it was a serendipitous moment and the framing of the church in the truck window greatly enhanced the image.

As well as years devoted to exploring art, Steve Szabo was also an art educator who influenced many a DC artist in his classrooms starting in 1979 (Diekmeyer was one of his students). Diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1992, he continued to teach until 1994 and passed away at home May 18, 2000.

This show is on through Through May 29th 2010. After the exhibition closes, the works can be seen by contacting Kathleen Ewing.

Harmony Hall Regional Center is located in Southern Prince George's County and offers classes in the visual and performing arts as well as exhibitions, concerts and performances.

For more information about the author, click here.

Battle of Dunnichen

Today is the anniversary of the Battle of Dunnichen or Battle of Nechtansmere (Scottish Gaelic: Blàr Dhùn Neachdain, Old Gaelic: Dún Nechtain, Old Welsh: Linn Garan, Old English: Nechtansmere), which was fought between the original indigenous people of present day Scotland, the Picts, led by King Bridei Mac Bili, and the English Northumbrians, led by King Ecgfrith on 20 May, 685.

"Egfrid is he who made war against his cousin Brudei, king of the Picts, and he fell therein with all the strength of his army and the Picts with their king gained the victory; and the Saxons never again reduced the Picts so as to exact tribute from them. Since the time of this war it is called Gueith Lin Garan."
— Nennius' account of battle from Historia Brittonum.

King Ecgfrith was killed in battle, and his army destroyed and this ancient battle ended with an unexpected and decisive Pictish victory which severed Northumbrian control of northern Britain and eventually assured the creation of a separate Scottish nation rather than a larger English nation.

More on the Picts here.

Viva Scotland!

Scots

Just found some notes that I wrote and had in my car when I lived in Scotland at the Little Keithock Farmhouse near Brechin in Angus. I used to have a Russian made Lada for a car. Perhaps the worst car ever made in history.

muckin = clean
croft = small farmhouse
jine = join
kill = overcome with weariness
swir = unwilling to work
auld Nick = the Devil
tint =lost
fit like? = how are you?
besom = broom
deen = done
barra = barrow
widna row its leen = would not hold it's load
siccan = such
soss = dirty wet mess
strae = straw
swipe = sweep
greep = gutter in the byre
fell sklite = fall heavily
neep = turnip
ben = through
soo = female pig
booin'doon = bending down
goon = gown, dress
midden = refuse heap
riggs = strip of ploughed land
tyke = dog
bumbee's byke = beehive
lang syne = long since
tyne = lose

Mera Rubell in my Studio (Next to the last Part)

Part I here and Part II here.

And so I was in the position where I suspect every artist on this planet would love to be: Ubercollector Mera Rubell and a small entourage were in my studio, waiting for me to show them my art work.

But I am of Cuban ancestry, so rather than showing work right away, I started talking about it.

And because I am of Cuban ancestry, before I started to talk about the artwork, I talked about what led to the artwork.

I told them that when I found out on Thursday that I had been selected to be visited by Rubell, I was ecstatic and glowing with anticipation.

And then I told them that I had immediately realized that I had no current work to show them, because all of my work is in storage in Miami waiting to be shown at the Miami International Art Fair.

"Do you know about that fair?" I asked possibly the world's leading art fair goer. She said yes.

"So I thought that maybe I could ask you to visit me at the fair and see the work." I paused, and everyone looked a little alarmed, mostly me at seeing them a little alarmed.

"You have nothing to show us?" Someone asked.

"Yes, I do." I answered. "Because what I decided to do when I realized that I had no work to show you, was to create as many drawings as I could between then and now. And so between Friday at 3:30 AM and this morning at 9:00 AM I created everything that you will see today."

Rubell looked a little amazed. "You mean that you did all the work in the last 36 hours?" She asked.

I said yes.

"You see," she turned to the entourage, suddenly filled with vigor and energy, "this is the first artist who crated new artwork just for the visit!"

"Ahhh..." I stammered a little embarrassed. "I had to! I had nothing to show you." But I was inwardly feeling that things were going well now.

"What have you got to show me?" She said, the studio suddenly bristling with her energy. "This is a dynamo in human form," I thought to myself.

And yet, I delayed a few precious moments more, and then really started talking about what drives my imagery.

I talked about how I had discovered the Picts in my childhood reading and then re-discovered them in Scotland when I lived in that breathtaking nation from 1989-1992.

I told them about the research that I had done as an amateur historian on them and their tattoos, and I showed them some examples of Pictish artwork that I had pinned to my studio wall.


In this photo by Lisa Gold, Rubell is looking at me describing the tattoo artwork of the ancient Picts, as I weave a artistic genetic line to my current work.

I described how a few years ago I had a show where it was all about Pictish art. And then I led the discussion, minutes gone by, to the trail of that artwork to my current work.

I'm a good talker, and I think that they were all interested in this historic genetic line that I was weaving. No one was yawning, and the room was still charged with electricity.

I explained how the tattoos married with my interest in narrative art, and art that tells a story or makes a point, backs up an agenda or delivers a social commentary.

And then I turned over the gigantic drawing of Che Guevara with the writing on the wall behind the Argentinean icon.

"Asere, Si o No?" 19"x48" Charcoal on Paper
As I've described before, this is a huge charcoal drawing of Ernesto "Che" Guevara de la Serna Lynch. Che is to the left in a very Christ-like pose. behind him, a slogan or graffiti on the wall asks the question in Cuban slang: "Asere, Si o No?" which means "Friend, Yes or No? The capital letters answer the question by spelling out ASESINO or assasin. I explained all these Cuban nuances to the Spanish language and my agenda behind it.

"You did this in the last 36 hours?" Someone asked a little quizzical.

"You see!, You see!" beamed Rubell, this is what I'm all about!" she gestured at the piece as I discussed my historical affinity to Che Guevara, both as a hero to some and as a mass murderer and racist to others. Rubell noted that I had captured a strong sense of the zealous Maoist in his eyes and face.

"What else is there?"

The next few pieces went fast. With each I explained what the drawing was all about. I discussed the intimacy of drawing the viewer close. I discussed humor in art when I showed them the Superman drawing. I discussed being very tired and possibly hallucinating when I did the "Fuck Elections" Obama drawing. I discussed the nuance of words when I showed them the "Age of Obama - Nobel Peace Prize" drawing.

"Is that Catherine Opie?" Asked Rubell when she looked at "True Believer." I told her no (the model is actually a local Sunday School teacher). "She really looks like Catherine Opie!" she commented. Note to self: contact Catherine Opie and see what she thinks of the likeness.

I was in a groove, and I can't remember why, but there was a lot of laughter all the time. I think that I asked them if they were laughing so much because they were delirious from lack of sleep. They exploded in laughter at that. I laughed too, because I was indeed super tired from the last 36 hours, but I was also feeling quite on track.

I could sense that Rubell really liked my drawings, but that she also liked the reason for them, the "why I draw this" idea. Somewhere in there I talked about conceptual art and how often the idea is more interesting than the final product and people agreed with me.

More talking, more good vibes.

"Awright," she says, "can you step out for a minute?"

I leave them and go upstairs. "How's it going?" asks my wife.

"I think it's going great," I answer as a series of raucous laughter blasts emanate from the basement. My wife, Little Junes and I look at each other and wait.

An eternity goes by before I am called down to the basement.

"We were wondering," says Rubell with a devilish look in her eyes - this woman is not tired, at least not now, after a grueling 36 hours marathon of studio visits; that much is clear to the most casual observer.

"We were wondering if..." she pauses, "considering that you were a Naval intelligence officer... if you had done some intelligence preparations ahead of time and had all these drawings in your flat files and just pulled them out just before we came?"

I could see a glint of devilishness in her eyes and I wasn't really worried that they thought that was the case, and so I easily denied the issue. Nothing like having the truth on your side.

"Raise your right hand!" ordered Rubell, her Russian-ness suddenly coming to the front. I did.

Next I was made to swear that all the work had been created in the last 36 hours, while Jennie Yang recorded the event with her camera. For a moment there I flashed back to my days in the Navy, with the myriads of re-enlistments and ceremonies where oaths are taken.

But I was in a good place, and my tired bones and eyes were testament to the truth of my creation of these works in the last 36 hours. The swearing was easy, with the relaxing backing of the truth.

We all filed out of the studio. On the way out she looked at a handmade Valentine Day's card from my wife that I pinned by the door. "This is a love nest," she stated, "another love nest..."

"We'll let you know soon," said the WPA's Lisa Gold, efficient and precise to the last minute, and reading my mind as it wondered "Am I in?"

We got upstairs, and started to say goodbyes... it all felt good. And at this point I was just glad that this electrical woman had decided to work her tuchus off and charge up the artists of the DC area.

"So what do you think of the Washington art scene?" asked Mera as she prepared to leave the house.

She turned and looked at me, and I began to answer her.

More tomorrow...

Scotland calling

I used to go to Scotland once a year or so, and lived there from 1989-1992. I feel it calling me...

The Road to the Isles

A far croonin' is pullin' me away
As take I wi' my cromak to the road.
The far Coolins are puttin' love on me,
As step I wi' the sunlight for my load.

Chorus:
Sure, by Tummel and Loch Rannoch
And Lochaber I will go,
By heather tracks wi' heaven in their wiles;
If it's thinkin' in your inner heart
Braggart's in my step,
You've never smelt the tangle o' the Isles.
Oh, the far Coolins are puttin' love on me,
As step I wi' my cromak to the Isles.

It's by 'Sheil water the track is to the west,
By Aillort and by Morar to the sea,
The cool cresses I am thinkin' o' for pluck,
And bracken for a wink on Mother's knee.

It's the blue Islands are pullin' me away,
Their laughter puts the leap upon the lame,
The blue Islands from the Skerries to the Lews,
Wi' heather honey taste upon each name.

Tonight: Lida Moser at the Arts Club

Do this tonight!

Opening tonight and through Sept. 26, 2009, the Arts Club of Washington, DC (in the McFeely Gallery) will be hosting a solo exhibition of legendary American photographer Lida Moser, who now lives in retirement in nearby Rockville, Maryland. The opening reception is from 6:30-9:00PM.

This almost 90-year-old photographer is not only one of the most respected American photographers of the 20th century, but also a pioneer in the field of photojournalism. Her photography has been in the middle of a revival and rediscovery of vintage photojournalism, and has sold as high as $4,000 at Christie's auctions and continues to be collected by both museums and private collectors worldwide. In a career spanning over 60 years, Moser has produced a body of works consisting of thousands of photographs and photographic assemblages that defy categorization and genre or label assignment.

Additionally, Canadian television a couple of years ago finished filming a documentary about her life; the second in the last few years, and Moser’s work is now in the collection of many museums worldwide.

She was once called the "grandmother of American street photography" by an art critic, which prompted a quick rebuttal by Moser, who called the writer's editor and told him that she wasn't the "fucking grandmother of anything or anyone, and would he [the writer] ever describe Ansel Adams or any other male photographer as the 'grandfather' of any style."

Tough New Yorker.

I once sold one of her rare figure studies to a big famous photography collector from the West Coast (who collects mostly nude photography). There were four or five prints of the image, taken and printed around 1961, but one had all the markings and touch-up evidence of the actual photo that had been used by the magazine, and thus I sent him that one.

He called me to complain that although he loved Moser's work, that he wasn't too happy with the retouching, and could I ask Lida for one of the untouched photos.

Now, you gotta understand that these images were taken and touched-up by hand for publication in a newspaper or magazine (since they were nudies, the latter probably). They were not touched up for a gallery or an art show - they were "battlefield" prints of a working photographer.

I called Lida and explained the situation over the phone. "Sweetie," she said to me in her strong New York accent, "you call that guy right back and tell him that you talked to Lida Moser and that Lida Moser told you to tell him: Fuck You!"

I didn't do that, but just sent him an untouched vintage print.

Tough New Yorker.

Lida was a well-known figure in the New York art scene of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, and a portrait of Lida Moser by American painter Alice Neel hangs in the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum in New York City. Neel painted a total of four Moser portraits over her lifetime, and one of them was included in the National Museum of Women in the Arts' "Alice Neel's Women" exhibition.

"Charles Mingus in his Apartment in New York City", c. 1965.

Among her body of works there are also loads of photographs of well-known artists and musicians that either hung around Lida's apartment in NYC or who were part of her circle of friends.



Lida Moser's photographic career started as a student and studio assistant in 1947 in Berenice Abbott's studio in New York City, where she became an active member of the New York Photo League. She then worked for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Look and many other magazines throughout the next few decades, and traveled extensively throughout the United States, Canada and Europe.

In 1950 Vogue, and (and subsequently Look magazine) assigned Lida Moser to carry out an illustrated report on Canada, from one ocean to another. When she arrived at the Windsor station in Montreal, in June of that same year, she met by chance, Paul Gouin, then a Cultural Advisor to Duplessis government. This chance meeting led Moser to change her all-Canada assignment for one centered around Quebec.

Armed with her camera and guided by the research done by the Abbot Felix-Antoine Savard, the folklorist Luc Lacourcière and accompanied by Paul Gouin, Lida Moser then discovers and photographs a traditional Quebec, which was still little touched by modern civilization and the coming urbanization of the region.

Decades later, a major exhibition of those photographs at the McCord Museum of Canadian History became the museum’s most popular exhibit ever.

She has also authored and been part of many books and publications on and about photography. She also wrote a series of "Camera View" articles on photography for The New York Times between 1974-81.

Her work has been exhibited in many museums worldwide and is in the permanent collection of the National Portrait Gallery, London, the National Archives, Ottawa, the National Galleries of Scotland, National Portrait Gallery, Washington, DC, the Library of Congress, Les Archives Nationales du Quebec, Corcoran Gallery, Phillips Collection and many others.

Moser was an active member of the Photo League and the New York School.

The Photo League was the seminal birth of American documentary photography. It was a group that was at times at school, an association and even a social club. Disbanded in 1951, the League promoted photojournalism with an aesthetic consciousness that reaches street photography to this day.


"New York City, Office Building Lobby" c. 1965


If you are a photographer, do not miss this opportunity to visit the Arts Club (every DC area artist should visit this great place once in a while) and meet one of the women who set the path for all of you. If you just love the arts, Moser is also a walking encyclopedia of anecdotes and stories about the New York art world of the 50s, 60s and 70s.

The Arts Club show is curated by my good friend Erik Denker, the Senior Lecturer, Education Division at the National Gallery of Art, who is also an authority on all things Moser. The show is titled "The World of John Koch" and depicts Moser's portraits of the renowed New York portrait artist John Koch taken over a 20 year span from 1954-1974. These photographs are exhibited in Washington for the first time and are only one of two portfolios of the portraits ever printed by Moser (the other was given to the Koch widow once the painter died in 1974).


John Koch, Silver Gelatin print by Lida Moser, c.1970
Read the WaPo review of one of her DC solo exhibitions here.

The opening reception is from 6:30-9:00PM. Do not miss it!

The Declaration of Arbroath

Americans have not been the only people who have fought English armies for independence. England's own neighbor to the North, Scotland (where I lived for three years and visit often and love dearly) has fought English aggression for centuries.

Today marks the 1,690th anniversary of the Declaration of Arbroath, or the Scottish version of their Declaration of Independence, dated the 6th of April of 1320. It is addressed to the Pope:

To the most Holy Father and Lord in Christ, the Lord John, by divine providence Supreme Pontiff of the Holy Roman and Universal Church, his humble and devout sons Duncan, Earl of Fife, Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray, Lord of Man and of Annandale, Patrick Dunbar, Earl of March, Malise, Earl of Strathearn, Malcolm, Earl of Lennox, William, Earl of Ross, Magnus, Earl of Caithness and Orkney, and William, Earl of Sutherland; Walter, Steward of Scotland, William Soules, Butler of Scotland, James, Lord of Douglas, Roger Mowbray, David, Lord of Brechin, David Graham, Ingram Umfraville, John Menteith, guardian of the earldom of Menteith, Alexander Fraser, Gilbert Hay, Constable of Scotland, Robert Keith, Marischal of Scotland, Henry St Clair, John Graham, David Lindsay, William Oliphant, Patrick Graham, John Fenton, William Abernethy, David Wemyss, William Mushet, Fergus of Ardrossan, Eustace Maxwell, William Ramsay, William Mowat, Alan Murray, Donald Campbell, John Cameron, Reginald Cheyne, Alexander Seton, Andrew Leslie, and Alexander Straiton, and the other barons and freeholders and the whole community of the realm of Scotland send all manner of filial reverence, with devout kisses of his blessed feet.

Most Holy Father and Lord, we know and from the chronicles and books of the ancients we find that among other famous nations our own, the Scots, has been graced with widespread renown. They journeyed from Greater Scythia by way of the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Pillars of Hercules, and dwelt for a long course of time in Spain among the most savage tribes, but nowhere could they be subdued by any race, however barbarous. Thence they came, twelve hundred years after the people of Israel crossed the Red Sea, to their home in the west where they still live today. The Britons they first drove out, the Picts they utterly destroyed, and, even though very often assailed by the Norwegians, the Danes and the English, they took possession of that home with many victories and untold efforts; and, as the historians of old time bear witness, they have held it free of all bondage ever since. In their kingdom there have reigned one hundred and thirteen kings of their own royal stock, the line unbroken a single foreigner.

The high qualities and deserts of these people, were they not otherwise manifest, gain glory enough from this: that the King of kings and Lord of lords, our Lord Jesus Christ, after His Passion and Resurrection, called them, even though settled in the uttermost parts of the earth, almost the first to His most holy faith. Nor would He have them confirmed in that faith by merely anyone but by the first of His Apostles -- by calling, though second or third in rank -- the most gentle Saint Andrew, the Blessed Peter's brother, and desired him to keep them under his protection as their patron forever.

The Most Holy Fathers your predecessors gave careful heed to these things and bestowed many favours and numerous privileges on this same kingdom and people, as being the special charge of the Blessed Peter's brother. Thus our nation under their protection did indeed live in freedom and peace up to the time when that mighty prince the King of the English, Edward, the father of the one who reigns today, when our kingdom had no head and our people harboured no malice or treachery and were then unused to wars or invasions, came in the guise of a friend and ally to harass them as an enemy. The deeds of cruelty, massacre, violence, pillage, arson, imprisoning prelates, burning down monasteries, robbing and killing monks and nuns, and yet other outrages without number which he committed against our people, sparing neither age nor sex, religion nor rank, no one could describe nor fully imagine unless he had seen them with his own eyes.

But from these countless evils we have been set free, by the help of Him Who though He afflicts yet heals and restores, by our most tireless Prince, King and Lord, the Lord Robert. He, that his people and his heritage might be delivered out of the hands of our enemies, met toil and fatigue, hunger and peril, like another Macabaeus or Joshua and bore them cheerfully. Him, too, divine providence, his right of succession according to or laws and customs which we shall maintain to the death, and the due consent and assent of us all have made our Prince and King. To him, as to the man by whom salvation has been wrought unto our people, we are bound both by law and by his merits that our freedom may be still maintained, and by him, come what may, we mean to stand.

Yet if he should give up what he has begun, and agree to make us or our kingdom subject to the King of England or the English, we should exert ourselves at once to drive him out as our enemy and a subverter of his own rights and ours, and make some other man who was well able to defend us our King; for, as long as but a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be brought under English rule. It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom -- for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.

Therefore it is, Reverend Father and Lord, that we beseech your Holiness with our most earnest prayers and suppliant hearts, inasmuch as you will in your sincerity and goodness consider all this, that, since with Him Whose Vice-Regent on earth you are there is neither weighing nor distinction of Jew and Greek, Scotsman or Englishman, you will look with the eyes of a father on the troubles and privation brought by the English upon us and upon the Church of God. May it please you to admonish and exhort the King of the English, who ought to be satisfied with what belongs to him since England used once to be enough for seven kings or more, to leave us Scots in peace, who live in this poor little Scotland, beyond which there is no dwelling-place at all, and covet nothing but our own. We are sincerely willing to do anything for him, having regard to our condition, that we can, to win peace for ourselves.

This truly concerns you, Holy Father, since you see the savagery of the heathen raging against the Christians, as the sins of Christians have indeed deserved, and the frontiers of Christendom being pressed inward every day; and how much it will tarnish your Holiness's memory if (which God forbid) the Church suffers eclipse or scandal in any branch of it during your time, you must perceive. Then rouse the Christian princes who for false reasons pretend that they cannot go to help of the Holy Land because of wars they have on hand with their neighbours. The real reason that prevents them is that in making war on their smaller neighbours they find quicker profit and weaker resistance. But how cheerfully our Lord the King and we too would go there if the King of the English would leave us in peace, He from Whom nothing is hidden well knows; and we profess and declare it to you as the Vicar of Christ and to all Christendom.

But if your Holiness puts too much faith in the tales the English tell and will not give sincere belief to all this, nor refrain from favouring them to our prejudice, then the slaughter of bodies, the perdition of souls, and all the other misfortunes that will follow, inflicted by them on us and by us on them, will, we believe, be surely laid by the Most High to your charge.

To conclude, we are and shall ever be, as far as duty calls us, ready to do your will in all things, as obedient sons to you as His Vicar; and to Him as the Supreme King and Judge we commit the maintenance of our cause, csating our cares upon Him and firmly trusting that He will inspire us with courage and bring our enemies to nought.

May the Most High preserve you to his Holy Church in holiness and health and grant you length of days.

Given at the monastery of Arbroath in Scotland on the sixth day of the month of April in the year of grace thirteen hundred and twenty and the fifteenth year of the reign of our King aforesaid.

Freedom does not come easily.

New Art Scam

This is a scam... posted exactly as received, with all the grammar errors which usually characterize this sort of scam...

From: kevinstokes12345@rocketmail.com
Date: Mon, Nov 17, 2008 at 10:59 AM
Subject: Artists File Online: Your artworks
To:

**This following message was sent to you by a person who found your artwork on Artists Space's Artists File Online website. www.artistsspace.org/artistsfile Please report any problems or concerns regarding this email to artfile@artistsspace.org

My name is kevin, I am an individual art agent and interior decorator from Glasgow, scotland. I got an order for the supply of some artworks from a group of client, and when i came across your portfolio on your site, while searching for good artworks, I found some of them to interest me and fit what i am looking for, and I intend to market these items to my client and also negotiate a price that will include your price (i.e your selling price) and a mark-up as a profit for my effort.
Payment will be made directly to you at the price i am selling and i will expect you to ship after payment clears and send me my commission /margin afterwards.
My client prefers to make payment using a credit card as this is much easier and cost effective for an international transaction thus will provide you directly their credit card for payment.
Please let me know if you do commission work and if you accept master card payment after which I will let you know the items we are interested in, and we can proceed with the order.
I am looking forward to a long term working relationship beyond this order.I am sorry I do not have a website yet but it should be ready soon however you can always contact me if you have any question and I would get back to you as soon as possible.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Best Regards.
kevin Stokes
kevinstokes12345@rocketmail.com

Delete this email if you get it or email Kevin back and tell him to go fuck himself.

Scotland's Rocky Statute?

If we were accountants or lawyers, I am sure our professional advice would be taken seriously but when it comes to art, everyone is suddenly an expert.

So complains Richard Calvocoressi, the director of the Henry Moore Foundation and until recently director of the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, who packed up his toys and went home over the fact that the Scots apparently want a particular statute in front of their Scottish Parliament at Holyrood, and it's by an artist who was not one of the five that he and the rest of the body which recommends art for the Scottish Parliament invited to submit proposals.


Read the Guardian story here.

Wha's Like Us? Damn Few And They're A' Died

Lida Moser opens this Friday

Opening on March 14, 2007 and through April 5, 2007, the Fraser Gallery in Bethesda will be hosting their second solo exhibition of legendary American photographer Lida Moser, who now lives in retirement in nearby Rockville, Maryland.

This almost 90-year-old photographer is not only one of the most respected American photographers of the 20th century, but also a pioneer in the field of photojournalism. Her photography has been in the middle of a revival and rediscovery of vintage photojournalism, and has sold as high as $4,000 at Christie's auctions and continues to be collected by both museums and private collectors worldwide. In a career spanning over 60 years, Moser has produced a body of works consisting of thousands of photographs and photographic assemblages that defy categorization and genre or label assignment.

Additionally, Canadian television recently finished filming a documentary about her life; the second in the last few years, and Moser’s work is now in the collection of many museums worldwide.

She was once called the "grandmother of American street photography" by an art critic, which prompted a quick rebuttal by Moser, who called the writer's editor and told him that she wasn't the "fucking grandmother of anything or anyone, and would he [the writer] ever describe Ansel Adams or any other male photographer as the 'grandfather' of any style."

Tough New Yorker.

I once sold one of her rare figure studies to a big famous photography collector from the West Coast (who collects mostly nude photography). There were four or five prints of the image, taken and printed around 1961, but one had all the markings and touch-up evidence of the actual photo that had been used by the magazine, and thus I sent him that one.

He called me to complain that although he loved Moser's work, that he wasn't too happy with the retouching, and could I ask Lida for one of the untouched photos.

Now, you gotta understand that these images were taken and touched-up by hand for publication in a newspaper or magazine (since they were nudies, the latter probably). They were not touched up for a gallery or an art show - they were "battlefield" prints of a working photographer.

I called Lida and explained the situation over the phone. "Sweetie," she said to me in her strong New York accent, "you call that guy right back and tell him that you talked to Lida Moser and that Lida Moser told you to tell him: Fuck You!"

I didn't do that, but just sent him an untouched vintage print.

Tough New Yorker.

Lida was a well-known figure in the New York art scene of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, and a portrait of Lida Moser by American painter Alice Neel hangs in the permanent collection of the Metropolitan Museum in New York City. Neel painted a total of four Moser portraits over her lifetime, and one of them was included in the National Museum of Women in the Arts' "Alice Neel's Women" exhibition.

"Charles Mingus in his Apartment in New York City", c. 1965.

Among her body of works there are also loads of photographs of well-known artists and musicians that either hung around Lida's apartment in NYC or who were part of her circle of friends.



Lida Moser's photographic career started as a student and studio assistant in 1947 in Berenice Abbott's studio in New York City, where she became an active member of the New York Photo League. She then worked for Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, Look and many other magazines throughout the next few decades, and traveled extensively throughout the United States, Canada and Europe.

In 1950 Vogue, and (and subsequently Look magazine) assigned Lida Moser to carry out an illustrated report on Canada, from one ocean to another. When she arrived at the Windsor station in Montreal, in June of that same year, she met by chance, Paul Gouin, then a Cultural Advisor to Duplessis government. This chance meeting led Moser to change her all-Canada assignment for one centered around Quebec.

Armed with her camera and guided by the research done by the Abbot Felix-Antoine Savard, the folklorist Luc Lacourcière and accompanied by Paul Gouin, Lida Moser then discovers and photographs a traditional Quebec, which was still little touched by modern civilization and the coming urbanization of the region.

Decades later, a major exhibition of those photographs at the McCord Museum of Canadian History became the museum’s most popular exhibit ever.

She has also authored and been part of many books and publications on and about photography. She also wrote a series of "Camera View" articles on photography for The New York Times between 1974-81.

Her work has been exhibited in many museums worldwide and is in the permanent collection of the National Portrait Gallery, London, the National Archives, Ottawa, the National Galleries of Scotland, National Portrait Gallery, Washington, DC, the Library of Congress, Les Archives Nationales du Quebec, Corcoran Gallery, Phillips Collection and many others.

Moser was an active member of the Photo League and the New York School.

The Photo League was the seminal birth of American documentary photography. It was a group that was at times at school, an association and even a social club. Disbanded in 1951, the League promoted photojournalism with an aesthetic consciousness that reaches street photography to this day.


"New York City, Office Building Lobby" c. 1965

An opening reception for Ms. Moser will be held on Friday, March 14, 2007 from 6-9PM as part of the Bethesda Art Walk. The reception is free and open to the public.

If you are a photographer, do not miss this opportunity to meet one of the women who set the path for all of you. If you just love the arts, Moser is also a walking encyclopedia of anecdotes and stories about the New York art world of the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Read the WaPo review of her last exhibition here.