My faithful readers know by now that I photograph shoes with the same, or almost the same, passion as I photograph birds. And last week I was in luck at a funky Gala.

The nice thing about the loose dress code at PDX events is the range of shoes one encounters. Some of them were quite cool, although I saw none last week that approached, even remotely, the works of art at the Brooklyn Museum linked to below.

If you have time take a look at the short clip from BAM – I was stuck between drooling and wondering how on earth one manages to walk in those things without busting an ankle. Maybe they should sell these kinds of shoes with a health insurance addendum, just in case….

Exception to the rule- pumps…..

It will quickly become clear why the exhibit was called Killer Heels….

Shoes as art is one thing; art about shoes quite another. Painters and philosophers obviously share a preoccupation with the subject, as the images and texts below illustrate. Van Gogh painted them

and Heidegger, Meyer Shapiro and Derrida analyzed them:

The Origin of the Work of Art(1935):

From the dark opening of the worn insides of the shoes the toilsome tread of the worker stares forth. In the stiffly rugged heaviness of the shoes there is the accumulated tenacity of her slow trudge through the far-spreading and ever-uniform furrows of the field swept by a raw wind. On the leather lie the dampness and richness of the soil. Under the soles slides the loneliness of the field-path as evening falls. In the shoes vibrates the silent call of the earth, its quiet gift of the ripening grain and its unexplained self-refusal in the fallow desolation of the wintry field. This equipment is pervaded by uncomplaining anxiety as to the certainty of bread, the wordless joy of having once more withstood want, the trembling before the impending childbed and shivering at the surrounding menace of death. This equipment belongs to the earth, and it is protected in the world of the peasant woman. From out of this protected belonging the equipment itself rises to its resting-within-itself.

(Accumulated tenacity does not extend to my memory. Excerpts of Heidegger, Shapiro and Derrida were found in a Harper’s article while searching for the 2009 van Gogh shoe exhibit at the Wallraff-Richartz museum in Cologne. That I remembered.)

https://harpers.org/blog/2009/10/philosophers-rumble-over-van-goghs-shoes/

Here is what I wore last week:

Here are some more examples of van Gogh’s take:

I want to reserve my love – on Valentine’s Day and every day – for humans, not material objects. So let me just say that I love finding myself in such varied company of those who party, paint, philosophize and in general walk this earth!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

The next fun event from last week was a Fundraiser that had multiple surprises in store.

One subject that caught my eye was glassware – and for my taste nobody does that better (in the art department) than the flemish painters of the Baroque. The topic suggested itself by watching an extraordinary bartender, Estanislado Orona with Aperitif/PDX, lay out his wares and providing a drink that was out of this world.

Note, I like beer. Or the occasional Pinot Gris. I’ve only ventured into cocktails in the last year, and then sparingly. But this thing was a knock-out. Called Sprung it mixed Trisaetum Winery Riesling, Jasmine Honey, Whiskey Tincture, Honey Dust, Gold, and Ylang Ylang perfume.

Side effect, other than an involuntary smile on my face for the rest of the evening, was honey dust glued all over my camera, since I was at work that night. Just like the rise of the pronk (fancy display) still life paintings in the Northern and Spanish Netherlands in the 1600s were indications of increasing urbanization, the advent of cocktails in the Heuer universe reflects increasing sophistication. And mess. But I digress.

The bartender clearly understood that part of the pleasure is visual. Never mind that the chrysanthemum blossoms in the glass where fall flowers, the intended effect – spring – was achieved.

When you study the dutch paintings it becomes clear very quickly that glass was still a luxury item in the 1600s. Many painters used the same glass over and over in different arranged still life settings. And they chose to place them against dark backgrounds so that the sparkle became particularly visible in the contrast. I did not have that choice as a photographer who documented a set scene, but even then the glasses to me looked luxurious, perhaps in their multitude.

The paintings focused on personal possessions and commerce at that period, mainly in the cities of Antwerp, Middelburg, Haarlem, Leiden, and Utrecht.  Later, when Amsterdam became the economic center, the fancy pronk still lives really took off, featuring depictions of porcelain, venetian glass, exotic objects etc.

Here is to pleasure in life, for eyes and tastebuds. Cheers!

Jan Davidsz de Heem Still Life with a Glass and Oysters  1640

Osias Beert de Elder  Three Dishes with Sweatmeats and Chestnuts and three Glasses on a Table

Frans Ykens  Still Life with Shrimp 17th Century

Peter Claesz Still Life with Silver Brandy Bowl, Wine Glass, Herring and Bread 1642

The Laika exhibit at PAM showed whole wardrobes of tiny clothes for its tiny characters. For our last installment of made by hand, then, I chose the act of sewing.  My own experience with the craft has been less than stellar. I remember spending childhood Sundays with butterflies in my stomach because Mondays saw “needle craft lessons” in school. At which, to use contemporary language, I sucked. Darning damned me, cross stitch killed me. Crocheting cursed my brain. Back stitch blinded me, chain stitch tied me down and basting stitch bowled me over. The sewing machine reserved its clogging spools for your’s truly, and then there was the day where I gave it a good kick in fury and ended up at the headmistress’ office….

It is with pleasure, then, that I introduce someone today who has much better attitude and aptitude, a creative seamstress of my acquaintance. Here are her words about the process, studio and inspiration and her photographs to demonstrate.

In most cases, what I like to do is start with white cotton fabric and dye or paint it, then stamp it, stencil it, silk screen it, and stitch it (by machine or hand or both). Once I have colored and decorated the fabric, I like to sew it into useful items (examples: shoulder bags, zipper pouches, coin purses) or art quilts and fabric collages. The possibilities are endless! Currently, bright colors and simple patterns are my favorites but I’m curious about working with earth tones and interesting combinations of hues and values.

Joan’s work can be found here if you’d like to see the end products: https://www.etsy.com/shop/JoanZiviStudio. 

Only the images of buttons are mine, since I can proudly announce I am these days able to sew them on, at last.

And here is a fun trailer from a Spanish film about a seamstress who also became a weapon smuggler and spy during the war.  Title translated means The time in-between seams. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Htzamn0cl78  

(English version on Netflix The Time Inbetween)

Watching pretty people do dangerous things and fall in love from the perch of your couch is so much more pleasant than getting a seam straight, don’t you agree? I cherished the fact that the heroine’s idea of dying and twisting plain cotton/linen fabric to make a special gown manages to make said dress take on the sheen of silk. Hollywood magic…. Hey, I might not have the hand, but I still have the eye to see these things!

Odds and ends today, while I am packing up montages for tomorrow’s event.

Dismay over the damaged prints I have to throw out, the result of a flood in my room this summer from a room-unit air conditioner.

Disbelief over how much work has accumulated over the last 7 years or so.

Decisions about what to take and what to leave at home.

Doubts about pricing, always such a tricky question, when you want people to be able to afford something, but also not undervalue what you have created.

Determination to have this

https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2017/nov/22/worlds-first-artist-airline-angelhaha-fly-with-happiness

available for my next opening….. just kidding. For balanced reporting I recommend celebrating people who do good in the world, not just frivolous gestures. Today is the day the Alternative Nobel Prize (for human rights activist who are always overlooked) will be given out in Stockholm. Among the honorees is a US lawyer who fights multinational industries that harm with pollution.

http://www.rightlivelihoodaward.org/inform/news-room/2017-announcement/

Hope to see you tomorrow.

I will bring a few prints of the the series On Transience this Saturday to the studio sale. It is more abstract work than my usual montages, but close to my heart, since it was the first leg in the ongoing project on displacement.

I was inspired by the transient nature of the immigrant experience, in place and emotion, to photograph objects in transition. The images of man-made materials found in trashcans, recycling centers, junk stores and shipyards, were to bring to mind the Jewish scrap peddlers from Eastern Europe who began to arrive in Oregon in the early 1900s. Some of these immigrants made their livings by gathering scrap metal that was cast off, discarded, and broken and by peddling it on the streets of Portland and other Oregon towns. A few of these peddlers eventually turned this “recycling” work into successful enterprises such as the shipyard, where I was photographing as well.

The montages emphasize the transient nature of the materials that historically provided some Jewish immigrants’ livelihood: iron, wood, plastic, paper, and steel. Contemporary immigrants too, regardless of how they made their livings back home, sometimes have no other choice than to turn to menial jobs, cleaning or working in the fields. I wanted to provide the viewer a way to contemplate the mobility of the lives of immigrants, from one land to another, from one life to another.

And given that it looks like we are now living in something akin to a banana republic, my thoughts are never far away from the concept of emigration – and the emotional and practical obstacles that are making it so unbelievably hard to leave your country. Then again (for balanced reporting) read this: a beautiful contemplation of two sorts of migration, from one country to another, from one status to another, after coming out. The writer’s experience let to the study of migratory art: http://therumpus.net/2017/11/torch-movement-its-depictions-and-two-way-tickets/?utm_source=Narratively+email+list&utm_campaign=9daeb705ae-MEMOIR_MONDAY_2017_10_23&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_f944cd8d3b-9daeb705ae-66322689

Manhattan – American Airlines Flight 11 – 2001

There are some stories out there that have survived, pretty much intact, across centuries. The myth of Daedalus and Icarus, as told by Ovid (Metamorphoses VIII: 183 – 235), is one of those. The narrative describes father and son attempting to flee exile in Crete. Daedalus fashions them wings and warns of flying too low or too high. In one case the sea will dampen and weigh down the feathers, in the other case the sun will melt the wax with which they are affixed. In flight, Icarus is overcome by the joy of soaring and plummets to his death after coming too near to the sun.

Manhattan – United Airlines Flight 175 – 9/11/2001

The myth has often been interpreted as an admonition to stay away from extremes and follow the middle path. It has also been called an example of hubris, attempting behavior reserved for the Gods.

Hudson River, NY – United Airways Flight 1549 – 2009 (Birdstrike)

For us who have witnessed a lifetime of airplane disasters the myth provides the easy analogy of things falling out of the sky. As a cognitive psychologist, I am, however, more concerned with the parallels the myth offers regarding the assumption of being in control, falling for the illusion of control. Daedalus was fully aware of the dangers and surely was no fool; nonetheless he was certain he could handle the situation – a certainty that cost him his son. Icarus was warned but got swept up by his desires and threw caution to the wind. In a similar fashion, we invent and use technology; we set national and global policies and make economic or military decisions about situations we consider controllable – or better yet, controlled. Unlike Icarus, we often lack information or warning, but, like Daedalus, we are often alert to the risks but convinced we can handle them – and are profoundly mistaken. The result sometimes involves the same fate as Icarus’ – falling from the sky – and sometimes takes other equally tragic forms.

Schiphol (AMS)  – El Al Flight 1864 1992

Free Fall  (2015) was a series of photomontages that were intended to remind us of the fallacy described above. The images are composed of photographs that I took either on site or that came from geographic areas that I felt could be stand-ins for sites that I had no access to (Ukraine; South China Seas.) The montages are linked to the story of Icarus via images of birds and to modern tragedy through the disaster locations they include or refer to. They were my take on some of the tragic consequences of the illusion of control.

Miami (MIA) – ValuJet Flight 596 1992

And for balanced reporting, here is something to make you smile and feel a bit safer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=63&v=syozl4DAPs4