FindArtNola

<a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Spnu2Qd3G9I/AAAAAAAAA04/S0vUPWsAqgo/s1600-h/~Gaudet.s.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Spnu2Qd3G9I/AAAAAAAAA04/S0vUPWsAqgo/s400/~Gaudet.s.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375590246143957970” border=“0” /></a><a href=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SpwtUYX-lHI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/9SRXymd8PZI/s1600-h/~Gunning.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 320px;” src=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SpwtUYX-lHI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/9SRXymd8PZI/s320/~Gunning.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376221883337184370” border=“0” /></a>“I paint and draw light,” said Simon Gunning, and if that sounds almost Biblical, his new Avery Island landscapes hark to a place so primeval as to evoke the birth of the world. There Gunning became fascinated by the Saline Swamp, a place he calls “lyrical and dangerous” for its “lurid arrangement” between the alligators and the thousands of egrets that nest in trees above the reptile infested waters. He saw that egrets dote on their chicks and was struck by the sense of tragedy that ensues when they sometimes fell from their nests to be instantly devoured by the gators lurking below. But the egrets know what they’re doing: the alligators protect them from the rats and snakes that pose the gravest threats to their young, in a classic case of “my enemy’s enemy is my friend.” Ecology works its wonders in mysterious ways.<br />Gunning sometimes harks to the 19th century landscape painters in his near-sacramental sense of light and dedication to the protean veracity of oil pigments. Such transcendentalist aspirations appear, if subtly, in works like LEAP #2, above right, where opalescent whites arise from the viridian depths in a visual epiphany of grace. If this seems a stretch, it’s not—no longer merely recreational, swamps are now essential for our survival. If Louisiana ever issues its own currency, each note could honestly be inscribed: “In Wetlands We Trust.”<br /><br /><a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Spnvl599mmI/AAAAAAAAA1I/-ASDQxsnHhQ/s1600-h/~Gaudet.2.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 122px; height: 320px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Spnvl599mmI/AAAAAAAAA1I/-ASDQxsnHhQ/s320/~Gaudet.2.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375591064738306658” border=“0” /></a>Mitch Gaudet’s haunting TRINKET expo of rusted steel and cast glass sculptures looks very different yet also explores the ways in which context shapes value. Antiques and religious relics, like trinkets, may have few practical uses yet still seem charged with meaning. In his large sculptural assemblage, BUDDHA, top, a Burmese bodhisattva appears surrounded by cast glass bowling pins, pistols, clown heads, ducks and floral filigree in a study on the contrast between the worldly and the eternal. ANGEL, left, features an armless, wingless angel rescued from a trash pile in front of a church after Katrina. Dangling below it, a cascade of cast glass wings evokes the poignancy of loss in its myriad manifestations, in a meditation on how life is change and nothing stays the same. ~Eric Bookhardt<br /><span><span><span>Click Images for Expanded View</span></span></span><br /><span><br /><br />AVERY ISLAND: New Paintings by Simon Gunning<br />TRINKET: Recent Sculpture by Mitch Gaudet<br />Through Sept. 19th<br />Arthur Roger Gallery, 432 Julia St., 522-1999; www.arthurrogergallery.com<br />Email:</span><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-4328643326737238594?l=www.insidenola.org” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SqANVtKCTsI/AAAAAAAAA1g/xRjop_ElIqs/s1600-h/Miru+Kim+Les+Catacombs+Paris.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 266px; cursor: pointer;” id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377312621630475970” alt=”“ src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SqANVtKCTsI/AAAAAAAAA1g/xRjop_ElIqs/s400/Miru+Kim+Les+Catacombs+Paris.jpg” border=“0” /></a><a href=“http://www.hello.flavorpill.com/bnvgpzllz_myszwsklzqk.html” target=”_blank”><img style=“border: 1px solid rgb(177, 177, 177); margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-right: 7px;” alt=”“ src=“http://flavorpill.com/attachment_image_files/0024/8549/MK_Michigan_email.jpg” align=“left” border=“0” width=“165” /></a> <a href=“http://www.hello.flavorpill.com/xdmztwffm_myszwsklzqk.html” target=”_blank”>Miru Kim</a> is fearless. She ventures into places such as the Paris Catacombs, above, to make her art that most of us would neither enter nor risk arrest to be in: underground tunnels, sewers, abandoned factories, power plants, the tops of bridges and churches. Once she arrives at these hidden and desolate places, Kim explores the setting, finds the best point of view, puts her camera on a tripod, and removes her clothes — in order to take some of the most engaging photographs of the moment.<div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-7802159686245174404?l=www.insidenola.org” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SpcAnmfqpcI/AAAAAAAAAU0/91ne2bu2C-4/s1600-h/Deceiver.Long.web.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374765360638240194” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px” alt=”“ src=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SpcAnmfqpcI/AAAAAAAAAU0/91ne2bu2C-4/s320/Deceiver.Long.web.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Rev. <span>McKendree</span> Robbins Long, <em>The Deceiver of the Whole World, </em>1964-1969</span><br /><span>Collection of the Ogden <span>Museum</span> of Southern Art</span><br /><span></span><br />Painter, poet and preacher, the Reverend <span>McKendree</span> Robbins Long defies the easy categorization often bestowed on artists. Though highly trained and educated at the top schools of the day, the <span>Reverend’s</span> work is often included in Outsider and Visionary collections.<br /><br />Born 1888 in <span>Statesville</span>, North Carolina, Long descended from a family filled with educators, politicians and clergy. After studying at Homer Military <span>Academy</span> and Davidson College, Long began master instruction under Duncan Smith at the University of Virginia at <span>Charlottesville</span> in 1907. After only one semester, he received a <span>scholarship</span> to attend classes at the highly respected Art Students League in New York City. There he studied under America’s first <span>Hispanic</span> master, F. Luis Mora.<br /><br />From New York, Long moved to London. He studied at the Slade School and the <span>Sandow</span> Curative Institute before private studies with Philip <span>de</span> <span>Laszlo</span>, court painter to King George VI. During his time in London, he rented a studio that previously belonged to another American painter, James <span>McNeill</span> Whistler. His two years in Europe also allowed him to copy masterworks in Spain and Holland.<br /><br />Returning to the US in 1913, Long married, started a family, and, excepting a brief stint as an ambulance driver in World War I, he spent the next ten years attempting an art career. Working in a traditional realist style, his career never materialized in an environment energized by the new directions of Dada and Cubism.<br /><br />His time in the Chelsea district in London had exposed him to a fiery brand of Evangelical Christianity different from his conservative Presbyterian upbringing. His mother had actually travelled to London to pressure Long into continuing his art studies, as he was feeling a strong calling to the ministry even then. His failure to make a career in art led him to give up all “secular <span>endeavors</span>,” and to pursue this calling. In 1922, he was ordained a <span>Presbyterian</span> minister. He became a travelling evangelist, and his skills as an <span>orator</span> garnered him a considerable following. He was not painting at all, but filling journals with sermons, poetry and hymns. His sermons, though, often contained references to biblical masterworks by Caravaggio and Rubens, earning him the title of “Picture Painter of the Gospel.” It wasn’t long before the <span>Reverend’s</span> fiery style led him away from the Presbyterian church. He was ordained a Baptist minister in 1935.<br /><br />In the late 1940s, unable to continue the rigorous schedule of a travelling minister, Reverend <span>McKendree</span> Robbins Long took up his brushes once again. He had done the occasional portrait upon request, but this was his true return to art. He became obsessed with depicting scenes from the Revelation to John, and spent most his his remaining years depicting these <span>apocalyptic</span> visions. He was convinced that the end times were near, and that his Christ would return in his lifetime to destroy the sinners and gather the faithful to heaven. He often depicted this event with contemporary settings and characters. In one painting, <em>Apocalyptic Scene with Philosophers and Historical Figures, </em>Long places Stalin, Mussolini and Hitler in the fiery lake. Darwin, Voltaire, Marx and others await the same fate. From above the painter sits with Dante, clearly satisfied with the events. The Reverend was quoted as saying, “I’m the only person who ever made Dante smile.”<br /><br />The works from this period were never sold or promoted by Long, although he did often give them away. The family took no interest in them, and considered the late work a departure from true painting. His brushwork moved from the restrained formalism of his early style toward bold application of pure color. He continued refining this unique and singular style till his death in 1976.<br /><br />The Reverend <span>McKendree</span> Robbins Long was once quoted as saying, “I’m primarily a preacher. Art is incidental.” This was very true at the time. In the 1980s, the American <span>art world</span> became fascinated with a genre known in America as Outsider Art. Although most artists included in this genre were self taught (Sister Gertrude Morgan, Mose T, Bill <span>Traylor</span>, etc.), the works of Reverend Long found a new audience. Although highly trained, his later works <span>definitely</span> exist outside of any academic tradition.<br /><br /><em>The Deceiver of the Whole World </em>was a gift to the Ogden Museum from the Roger H. Ogden Collection. Painted between 1964 and 1969, it shows Christ’s return as promised in the Revelation to John. Christ is pictured on a snow-white horse, conquering the anti-<span>christ</span>, who is depicted as <span>Caesar</span> with “666” written on his robes and stigmata on his hands. All around them, a battle rages, filled with demons, modern bombs, soldiers and chaos. This is classic Reverend Long.<br /><br />Currently, <em>The <span>Deceiver</span> of the Whole World </em>is included in the Outsider, Visionary and Self-taught gallery on the fifth floor of the Ogden’s <span>Goldring</span> Hall. Incidently, the paintings of Bo Bartlett are also <span>exhibited</span> in a <span>separate</span> gallery on the fifth floor. Bartlett, a master of American realism, studied under Ben Long, grandson of Reverend <span>McKendree</span> Robbins Long, in Florence when he was 19.<br /><p><br /></p><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3601211757000210971-4323073801276810207?l=omsablog.blogspot.com” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SpWdzOBAwpI/AAAAAAAAAUs/i9fohvCX8FY/s1600-h/SHAW—BOMB-SCARE-(2).jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374375233597784722” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px” alt=”“ src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SpWdzOBAwpI/AAAAAAAAAUs/i9fohvCX8FY/s320/SHAW—BOMB-SCARE-(2).jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><br /><span>Kendall Shaw’s <em>Bomb Scare at <span>Newcomb</span> Campus, </em>1957, oil on canvas</span><br /><span>Photo by Richard McCabe</span><br /><br /><br /><p>In 1957, Kendall Shaw was a student at Tulane University, where he studied with Ida <span>Kohlmeyer</span>, Kurt <span>Kranz</span>, George Rickey and Mark Rothko. He had already studied painting with <span>Ralston</span> Crawford at the Brooklyn Museum, and with O. Louis <span>Guglielmi</span> and Stuart Davis at the New School. Shaw states, “they were my friends, who taught me about architectural structure on a canvas and music possible from hard edge shapes of high key color.” This concept, of music and emotion in paint surfaces, Shaw brought with him to develop at <span>Newcomb</span>. </p><p>In 1957, someone called in a fake bomb threat to <span>Newcomb</span> College. Shaw remained in his studio on the upper floor of the art building as the other students gathered on the bright green lawn below. In a recent correspondence S<span>haw</span> related the experience:</p><p align=“center”><em>When I looked down at the greens below, I was delighted to see that the <span>Newcomb</span> students dotted the grass in multicolored sweaters. (I thought that only in India would one see a large number of intense colored fabrics on a crowded lawn.) High with the color experience, I put it down as quickly as I could do so.</em></p><p align=“left”>The result of that experience, <em>Bomb Scare at <span>Newcomb</span> Campus</em>, 1957, has been generously donated to the Ogden Museum of Southern Art by his <span>niece</span>, Eileen Madrid. It is a welcome addition to the permanent collection, representing a key moment in the development of his style. It is currently on exhibition on the fourth floor of <span>Goldring</span> Hall.</p><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3601211757000210971-164647625448422367?l=omsablog.blogspot.com” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SpCLYUFQ9uI/AAAAAAAAAyU/TWExEKo3niY/s1600-h/~Hannan.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 400px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SpCLYUFQ9uI/AAAAAAAAAyU/TWExEKo3niY/s400/~Hannan.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372947605276915426” border=“0” /></a>One of the more interesting examples of the way post- Katrina New Orleans has reinvented itself is the expansion of the gallery scene on St. Claude Avenue. Among its defining influences—which includes the burgeoning bohemia of the Marigny-Bywater neighborhood for which St. Claude serves as the local Main Street—few can rival the University of New Orleans when it comes to setting a certain, slightly edgy tone. UNO even has its own gallery there, though it sometimes seems almost redundant. Even the current show at the venerable Barrister’s Gallery features seven emerging artists who are all products of the UNO fine arts graduate program. Their work on and off the walls is often quirky, personal, punchy and occasionally entertaining.<br /><br />Aaron McNamee’s TOOTHFACE , left, features pink ceramic vessels with scalloped ridges that are actually replicas of front teeth. Appearing with a photo of a smiling guy in a suit whose face is covered with protrusions that also turn out to be front tooth replicas, it’s a curiously cringe-inducing foray into postmodern expressionism. The cringe binge continues in Robyn Denny’s convincingly warped drawings of weirdly anxious people yanking on each other in a bizarre psychodramatic reverie. But aversion is inverted in Hollis Hannan’s monumental Saran Wrap and packing tape sculpture, DIALECTIC WITHIN, above, where the multiplicity of limbs belies the fact that there are only two torsos so rapturously engaged in what might be a Hindu deity rendition of a Merce Cunningham moment—or maybe an inner dance of approach-avoidance. The dynamic duo of Sciortino and Rinehart provide a pleasingly vintage take on the postmodern obsessions of text and video in DARKHORSE, but those same concerns receive a latter-day update in Dan Rule’s PALIMPSEST, in which one of those digital picture frames comes to life as a time-lapse billboard with new and old messages appearing and disappearing before our eyes. Curated by UNO’s Chris Saucedo, it’s a curiously cohesive slice of art and life in the St. Claude Gallery District. ~Eric Bookhardt<br /><br /><span>THANK YOU SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER: 7 New, New Orleans Artists<br />Through Sept. 5<br />Barrister’s Gallery, 2131 St. Claude Ave., 710-4506; www.barristersgallery.com<br /></span><span><span><span>Click on Images for Expanded View<br /></span></span></span><span>Email:</span><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-5929592135400907805?l=www.insidenola.org” alt=”“ /></div>

One of the reliable destinations of the St. Claude district’s Second Saturdays, the galleries which open their doors and regale art enthusiasts and Bywater hipsters with free booze and a sampling of national and local artists, is The Good Children Gallery. Its latest showing is a series of video installations, six artists whose works are shown on monitors, projected on walls, and seen through a hole in a cardboard box. Through a curtain at the rear of the gallery (offering an echoing tingle of a video store’s backroom beaded curtain) is Kate Gilmore’s Between A Hard Place. Gilmore (kategilmore.com) is a New York based artist whose video installations feature herself dressed in feminine attire taking on physically assaulting and repetitious tasks such as lifting a series of mortar cubes onto high shelves, attempting to scale a hazardous, chocolate syrup covered ramp on roller skates, and climbing a most unscrupulous ladder comprised of chairs, bookshelves, tables, any object that might be found in a thirty-something artist’s apartment. Between A Hard Place jams itself well within Gilmore’s oeuvre, and between the sheetrock walls of a New Orleans gallery whose visitors are familiar with the sensory sensations of urban con- and de-struction. It begins (and it does have a beginning, there is a narrative at work) with a gray wall, tightly framed. The frame will not move. As Gilmore steps into frame we can just see her hands slipping on a pair of long back gloves, the sort worn with a tea gown to a party. There is the back of her ankles and thighs in sheer stockings, the hem of her brown dress, bright, egg yolk yellow shoes with pump heels, and the gray wall she now attacks, punches and kicks at, soon – and not without effort, it is no prop wall – breaking through. It is strangely compelling to watch someone attack a wall with fists and feet, a sense of suspense to accompany the cacophony as Gilmore breaks through the first wall to be immediately confronted by another exactly like it. We glimpse that the inside of the sheetrock walls are painted the same bright, egg yolk yellow as her shoes. Without pause she attacks the second wall, and after battling her way through, attacks a third. We have never seen her face, only her back, the throw of her fists and shoulders, the kicking of her legs and feet. She does not tire, she assaults her way though each wall to take on the next, and at each we wonder how many there are. How many layers will she enter? Will she tire, be hurt, be ultimately defeated by these Kafka-esque thresholds she crosses one after another, each perfectly mirroring the last? As viewers (as opposed to visitors looking at a painting or sculpture, it’s not a single frame we admire, but 30 frames per second), we are wrapped up in its plot, and compelled to seek out metaphors. Walls serve as a metaphor of power; walls are built by humanity, for humanity. They contain us, shelter us inside, keep others out. But when an individual is able to punch through a wall, there is a shift in power, until the appearance of another wall shifts that power yet again. Gilmore, perpetually entering, victoriously crosses every boundary only to find another boundary, another physical and psychic barrier, awaiting. Dressed for a cocktail party, wearing the attire of a preconceived role, she defies that role most uncivilly by becoming a demolition machine. Or has she not betrayed the role but only redefined it? Is her power contained within one who can don stocking and dress and cross thresholds most often left to those dressed in overalls and hardhats? As we watch Gilmore take on four walls we are compelled to wonder, need to speculate. She penetrates the center of the frame, grows more distant from us; as she travels in we can see more of her, more of her body, anyway – her face, the expressions we rely on inter-personally, are unavailable. Her back is to us, we cannot read her strain or emotions or needs; we witness only her force. Ultimately it will end, Gilmore will reach a center, or the representation of a center: a wall painted that same bright, egg yolk yellow, which she will not attack or attempt to enter. Instead she turns to the camera, fade to black. The arc of the narrative has been fulfilled, we can move on to the next installation, or return to our own sheltering walls with a vague, unsettled notion of something accomplished.

<a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowkNb6_J7I/AAAAAAAAAUk/mP3qIeHGtEI/s1600-h/Universal+Mule+(17).jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371708268798224306” style=“WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px” alt=”“ src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowkNb6_J7I/AAAAAAAAAUk/mP3qIeHGtEI/s320/Universal+Mule+(17).jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span><em>Study for Universal Mule</em>, 2008</span><br /><span>Collection of Shelley and Romi Gonzalez</span><br /><br />In November of 2008, Canadian-born artist, <a href=“http://www.jackniven.com/”>Jack Niven</a>, opened his project, <em><a href=“http://www.americanbeautysouth.com/”>American Beauty-South</a></em>, on Airline Drive in New Orleans. Airline Drive is the last leg of Highway 61 on its journey from the Canadian border to New Orleans, a journey symbolic of Niven’s own to his adopted home on the Mississippi. The project utilized streetside walls of motels to exhibit seven artist-created billboards, addressing three main themes: American Beauty, the South and Highway 61.<br /><br /><a href=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowUr-W_R2I/AAAAAAAAAUE/Dph9fGTCgGY/s1600-h/Universal+Mule+(33).jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371691201252509538” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 211px” alt=”“ src=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowUr-W_R2I/AAAAAAAAAUE/Dph9fGTCgGY/s320/Universal+Mule+(33).jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span><em>American Beauty, South</em> billboard at Premium Parking Garage</span><br /><div><div><div><span>Photo by Jack Niven</span> </div><div></div><div><em>American Beauty, South</em> began as a personal project of Niven’s design at the <a href=“http://www.opensoundneworleans.com/core/sound/london-lodge-motel”>London Lodge Motel</a> before being expanded to include works by <a href=“http://www.robertctannen.com/”>Robert Tannen,</a> <a href=“http://www.americanbeautysouth.com/art_mccabe.htm”>Richard McCabe</a>, <a href=“http://www.nolafront.org/pages/artists/Megan/Megan%20Roniger-1.htm”>Megan Roniger</a>, <a href=“http://www.sarahkabot.com/”>Sarah Kabot</a>, <a href=“http://www.contactphoto.com/archive_view.php?eventid=663”>Stan Denniston</a> and <a href=“http://www.dirttechnologies.com/”>Marianne Desmarais</a>. Niven’s <em>Universal Mule </em>was the first work on the drive from downtown to the airport, a sixteen-foot sentinal to the action on a notorious stretch of a notorious American highway. It welcomed international art tourist visiting Prospect One with the same knowing gaze as it used to witness the late-night dealings of the locals. In his statement for <em>Universal Mule</em>, Niven states, “The Universal Mule I have called upon here is the <em>everyman</em> among us. I wanted this mule to stand as witness to the highway from a cosmic trajectory.”</div><div><br /><a href=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowWpbsBwpI/AAAAAAAAAUU/WKJznRJILfM/s1600-h/Universal+Mule+(22).JPG”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371693356609028754” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px” alt=”“ src=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowWpbsBwpI/AAAAAAAAAUU/WKJznRJILfM/s320/Universal+Mule+(22).JPG” border=“0” /></a><br /><span><em>Universal Mule</em> installed at London Lodge, October 2008</span><br /><br /><a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowWpzMevLI/AAAAAAAAAUc/ITihGBGkU_8/s1600-h/Universal+Mule+(23).JPG”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371693362919161010” style=“WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px” alt=”“ src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowWpzMevLI/AAAAAAAAAUc/ITihGBGkU_8/s320/Universal+Mule+(23).JPG” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>London Lodge installation</span> </div><div></div><div align=“left”>Now that <em>American Beauty, South</em> has come to an end, <em>Universal Mule</em> has found a new home. Jack Niven and his wife, Marianne Desmarais, have donated this iconic work to the Ogden Museum’s permanent collection. Like the beasts of burdon that worked their lives in the fields of the American South to be rewarded with a retirement of leisure, so too <em>Universal Mule </em>has been put out to pasture within the air-conditioned walls of Goldring Hall.</div><div align=“left”></div><div align=“left”><a href=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowUqwCDSSI/AAAAAAAAAT0/CjOz53bFUbs/s1600-h/Universal+Mule+(25).jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371691180226726178” style=“WIDTH: 219px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px” alt=”“ src=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SowUqwCDSSI/AAAAAAAAAT0/CjOz53bFUbs/s320/Universal+Mule+(25).jpg” border=“0” /></a></div><div align=“left”><span>Jack Niven on Highway 61</span></div></div></div><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3601211757000210971-3375259686628121408?l=omsablog.blogspot.com” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SoX6EMZYDrI/AAAAAAAAAwM/791mlH62FrY/s1600-h/~wolf_parade_of_summer.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 301px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SoX6EMZYDrI/AAAAAAAAAwM/791mlH62FrY/s400/~wolf_parade_of_summer.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369973080663264946” border=“0” /></a>Lately, there has been much consternation regarding Louisiana’s eroding coastline and its implications for the state and its inhabitants. Big chunks of our coast wash away at an alarming rate, and, like many other cataclysms, this resonates in the work of artists no less than scientists or government officials, as we see in two new shows on Julia. Miranda Lake’s encaustic collage -paintings are whimsical and poetic, with surreal imagery that falls somewhere between the paradoxical and the decorous. In THE WAY THE CROW FLIES, a crow hovers over a wrecked fishing boat adrift on a sea of broken eggshells in an image that resonates obliquely, in the metaphoric manner of dreams. As does THE WOLF PARADE OF SUMMER, an oversize vintage postage stamp where wolves are silhouetted by a setting sun as they leap across a bleak landscape. AIRMAIL is cheerier, featuring a bevy of those green tropical parrots we see about town transposed to another oversized vintage postage stamp. Lake’s vision reflects the “new nature,” an unsettled realm of rising tides and climate change where biodiversity sometimes doubles as bio-perversity, and nothing can be taken for granted.<br /><br /><a href=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SoX6q663p9I/AAAAAAAAAwc/Tutptn97Ms8/s1600-h/~Ludwig.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 318px;” src=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SoX6q663p9I/AAAAAAAAAwc/Tutptn97Ms8/s320/~Ludwig.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369973745986807762” border=“0” /></a>Deedra Ludwig’s more traditional paintings hark to the early abstraction of Symbolists such as Odilon Redon, or Whistler’s delicate “Japonisme” period. Influenced by shifts in landscapes that were altered by hurricanes, she incorporates materials found on site such as pollen, soil and flowers, working them into the fabric of her oil paintings in an eloquent reminder of nature’s resilience and the nascent mini-recoveries that sometimes begin almost immediately after the disaster has struck. ~Eric Bookhardt<br /><br /><span>RECLAMATION: 360 DEGREES: New Encaustic Paintings by Miranda Lake<br />Through Aug. 29<br />Jonathan Ferrara Gallery, 400a Julia St., 522-5471<br />WILD, CULTIVATED, FRAGILE: New Paintings by Deedra Ludwig<br />Through Sept. 27<br />LeMieux Galleries, 332 Julie St., 522-5988; www.lemieuxgalleries.com<br />Email:</span><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-3458508610902736675?l=www.insidenola.org” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Sn5LfHhrYJI/AAAAAAAAAvs/PAv7aVivZNo/s1600-h/~Scully+X-11.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 311px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Sn5LfHhrYJI/AAAAAAAAAvs/PAv7aVivZNo/s400/~Scully+X-11.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367810803840540818” border=“0” /></a>Cities are mysterious places. Some, like Houston, are utilitarian, while others like New Orleans are more mythic. Both can inspire artists and writers. The Dutch-American artist Mondrian reduced the bright lights of Broadway in New York to colorful abstraction. Italian author Italo Calvino’s novel INVISIBLE CITIES deals with patterns of life in apocryphal places, and American author Christopher Alexander’s essay A PATTERN LANGUAGE describes the rhythms of movement in homes and cities as a kind of symbolic yet poetic language. Regina Scully’s new paintings touch on such things in a strictly visual and intuitive way; you can sense in their intricate and rhythmic flow a broader world of ideas and associations while appreciating them on their visual or sensual merits.<br /><a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Sn5LDESSLHI/AAAAAAAAAvk/Zyf6toK1JXQ/s1600-h/~Scully+X-3.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 268px;” src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Sn5LDESSLHI/AAAAAAAAAvk/Zyf6toK1JXQ/s320/~Scully+X-3.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367810321934330994” border=“0” /></a>Unlike her earlier, more recognizably architectural paintings, these read as almost pure abstraction while evoking the dynamism of the human hive. EXCAVATION 3 , left, offers the most representational approximation of a built environment even as it recalls vintage sci-fi illustrations of post-apocalyptic apartment towers, or abstract album jackets from early 1960s modern jazz LPs, a realm of Sputnik, Coltrane and Philip Dick. In its intricate maze of loosely articulated forms there is a suggestion of catacombs erupting into an ad hoc Tower of Babel. EXCAVATION 11, top, is quite the opposite, a sleek interweaving of undulating blue and white grid-like shapes, of shimmering silver mazes flowing like the wavy titanium roofs of Frank Gehry’s outrageous museum and hotel buildings, or surreal science fiction fantasies culminating in cascades of shiny reflections, while EXCAVATION 5, below, mediates between them. Scully extrapolates such forms into an oscillating urban environment where no human presence is seen yet the unleashed energy of the human horde is implicit, perhaps a post-cybernetic Shanghai of the future where neurons and synapses crackle into metallic forms and functions. But Scully says these are all extrapolated from the cities of the present, a realm where “objects, spaces and events collide and detach…” The result is an eloquent visual music, a meditation on “fragmentation and unity, devastation and rejuvenation.” ~Eric Bookhardt<br /><a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Sn5KlBraFUI/AAAAAAAAAvc/FKH4qvFf-jw/s1600-h/~Scully+X-5.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;” src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/Sn5KlBraFUI/AAAAAAAAAvc/FKH4qvFf-jw/s400/~Scully+X-5.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367809805838325058” border=“0” /></a><span>EXCAVATIONS: New Paintings by Regina Scully<br />(Click images for expanded view.)<br />Through Sept. 2<br />Heriard-Cimino Gallery, 440 Julia St. 525-7300; www.heriard-cimino.com<br />Email:</span><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-4261468552606209393?l=www.insidenola.org” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v37ZQ-oOY_0/Sn8rRxMPCXI/AAAAAAAAAI0/-7tgkl8va4g/s1600-h/Blue+Dog.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 339px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_v37ZQ-oOY_0/Sn8rRxMPCXI/AAAAAAAAAI0/-7tgkl8va4g/s400/Blue+Dog.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368056865111345522” border=“0” /></a><span>email:</span><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-3506175595965806831?l=www.insidenola.org” /></div>

<a href=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysyVqKocI/AAAAAAAAATs/YgdUlmMwN2k/s1600-h/Storming-the-Ramparts.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367354836726227394” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px” alt=”“ src=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysyVqKocI/AAAAAAAAATs/YgdUlmMwN2k/s320/Storming-the-Ramparts.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><div><span>Gilbert Gaul’s <em>Storming the Ramparts</em>, circa 1893, oil on canvas</span></div><div><span>Collection of William Dunlap</span><br /></div><div><div><div><div>William Dunlap’s artist installation, <em>Storming the Ramparts: Objects of Evidence</em>, is an exhibition unique in the Ogden’s history. The historical content and Victorian influenced style is a break from our decidedly contemporary approach to exhibitions. Most importantly, though, it represents a truly collaborative effort with our closest neighbor, Confederate Memorial Hall.<br /></div><div></div><div><a href=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysHGBLEXI/AAAAAAAAATU/JTj_NJ2tFDc/s1600-h/Gaul-StormingRamparts-monch.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367354093793382770” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px” alt=”“ src=“http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysHGBLEXI/AAAAAAAAATU/JTj_NJ2tFDc/s320/Gaul-StormingRamparts-monch.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Gilbert Gaul’s <em>Taking the Ramparts</em>, vintage <span>photogravure</span></span></div><div><span>Collection of William Dunlap</span><br /></div><div>The exhibition is built around the Gilbert Gaul Painting, <em>Storming the Ramparts</em>, probably painted in the early part of the last decade of the 19<span>th</span> century. On either side of this singular epic battle scene are examples of <span>photogravures</span>, <em>Taking the Ramparts</em>, that first appeared on the market shortly after the painting was finished. The gallery is then completed with objects from the permanent collection of Confederate Memorial Hall, including weapons, photographs, clothing, medical kits and other detritus of war from that defining moment in American history.</div><div><a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysGcOUCqI/AAAAAAAAATE/ESh8Fte8p2w/s1600-h/Boots-D.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367354082574207650” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px” alt=”“ src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysGcOUCqI/AAAAAAAAATE/ESh8Fte8p2w/s320/Boots-D.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Photo by David Houston</span><br /><a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysGmICaVI/AAAAAAAAATM/tvHQvOtFAiQ/s1600-h/Field-Kit.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367354085232240978” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px” alt=”“ src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysGmICaVI/AAAAAAAAATM/tvHQvOtFAiQ/s320/Field-Kit.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Photo by David Houston</span></div><div><span></span></div><div>Gilbert Gaul (1855-1919) is best known for his realistic, if not romantic, depictions of Military life, particularly scenes from the Civil War, but also extending from the European conquest of the American West through World War I. Born in New Jersey, Gaul <span>entered</span> the National Academy of Design in New York City at seventeen, and went on to become one of the nation’s leading illustrators, publishing regularly in <em>Harper’s Weekly</em> and <em>Century Magazine. </em>He received awards from the American Art Association, the 1889 Paris Exhibition and the 1893 World’s Exposition in Chicago. At the turn of the century, Gaul settled in Tennessee. He opened a studio in <span>Nashville</span>, and began the series, <em>With Confederate Colors</em>, in 1907.<br /><a href=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysHudgmqI/AAAAAAAAATc/rQBkuMp-Yx0/s1600-h/gilbert-266×330.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367354104649652898” style=“WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px” alt=”“ src=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysHudgmqI/AAAAAAAAATc/rQBkuMp-Yx0/s320/gilbert-266×330.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Gilbert Gaul in his studio.</span></div><div><span></span></div><div><em>Storming the Ramparts: Objects of Evidence</em> opened on White Linen Night, accompanied by essays from Winston Groom and Dunlap, and a ceremonial burying of the proverbial hatchet on the grounds of Confederate Memorial Hall.<br /><br /><a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysH8myqVI/AAAAAAAAATk/gjcjTmUq2D4/s1600-h/Groom-and-Dunlap.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367354108446681426” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px” alt=”“ src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnysH8myqVI/AAAAAAAAATk/gjcjTmUq2D4/s320/Groom-and-Dunlap.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Winston Groom and William Dunlap bury the hatchet.</span></div><div><span>Photo by Cheryl Gerber.</span></div><div>Read Doug <span>MacCash’s</span> review here: <a href=“http://www.nola.com/arts/index.ssf/2009/07/artist_william_dunlaps_civil_w.html”>Times Picayune</a>.</div></div></div></div><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3601211757000210971-2497721901371018801?l=omsablog.blogspot.com” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8u-ZD2I/AAAAAAAAAS8/t6pFT6uKA9o/s1600-h/DSC_6921web.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366560068413755234” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px” alt=”“ src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8u-ZD2I/AAAAAAAAAS8/t6pFT6uKA9o/s320/DSC_6921web.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Richard <span>McCabe</span> adds hardware to a large-scale canvas.</span><br /><br /><div>In preparation for the current exhibition of large-scale paintings by <a href=“http://www.bobartlett.com/”>Bo Bartlett</a> at the Ogden Museum, Chris <span>Polson</span>, of <a href=“http://www.midcoast.com/~twnbrook/tbsbro.html”>Twin Brooks Stretchers</a>, travelled to New Orleans to stretch the canvases and add finish frames. Chris manufactured the frames and stretchers for several of the works in his studios in <span>Lincolnville</span>, Maine. His daughter, May, was enlisted from Boston to help with the stretching and framing. A leader in his field, Chris uses only Maine aspen wood, <span>sawn</span> and dried at his facility in <span>Lincolnville</span>. Photos by David Houston.</div><br /><br /><a href=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8BJRTFI/AAAAAAAAASk/2ny_TrfIhFI/s1600-h/DSC_6869web.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366560056111352914” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px” alt=”“ src=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8BJRTFI/AAAAAAAAASk/2ny_TrfIhFI/s320/DSC_6869web.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Chris <span>Polson</span> setting a Bo Bartlett in the frame.</span><br /><div><br /><div><a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8QmGP9I/AAAAAAAAAS0/xJ1FjMk8JcE/s1600-h/DSC_6901web.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366560060258795474” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px” alt=”“ src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8QmGP9I/AAAAAAAAAS0/xJ1FjMk8JcE/s320/DSC_6901web.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Richard <span>McCabe</span>, Bradley <span>Sumrall</span>, May and Chris <span>Polson</span>.</span></div><span></span><div><br /><a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8NPn6SI/AAAAAAAAASs/fWPw7xhm9ks/s1600-h/DSC_6871web.jpg”><img id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366560059359226146” style=“WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px” alt=”“ src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E_DdpBVIO8E/SnnZ8NPn6SI/AAAAAAAAASs/fWPw7xhm9ks/s320/DSC_6871web.jpg” border=“0” /></a><br /><span>Chris <span>Polson</span> and Richard <span>McCabe</span> frame Bo’s <em><span>Resurgere</span> e <span>Renasci</span>.</em></span></div><div> </div></div><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3601211757000210971-6140581028868292005?l=omsablog.blogspot.com” alt=”“ /></div>

<a href=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SnUG2EBdxWI/AAAAAAAAAs0/eiM7W3mr5GQ/s1600-h/~~Tague.s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 396px;” src=“http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SnUG2EBdxWI/AAAAAAAAAs0/eiM7W3mr5GQ/s400/~~Tague.s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365202056944403810” border=“0” /></a>It’s not like any other Julia St. gallery. In fact, it’s really not a gallery at all. Most of Studio 527 is a 6,000 square foot warehouse where art appears floor to ceiling like the contents of a vast curiosity cabinet. Short on the persnickety presentation of other Julia Street art spaces, but long on spontaneity and spectacle, it reflects the conceptual proclivities of its founder, artist/urban planner Robert Tannen, as well as the best efforts of director Morgan Molthrop, whose unenviable task is to impose order and decorum on what is essentially a freewheeling guerilla art project in a perpetual state of flux.<br /><br /><a href=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SnUFMbyaw6I/AAAAAAAAAsk/D329yjE-cgU/s1600-h/~AnonAlex1.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 320px;” src=“http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SnUFMbyaw6I/AAAAAAAAAsk/D329yjE-cgU/s320/~AnonAlex1.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365200242257609634” border=“0” /></a>When it first opened in early July, ST. CLAUDE ON JULIA was mostly just that, work by St. Claude Arts District artists, but for White Linen Night new exhibits by photographer Robert Hanant and multimedia artist Terrence Sanders were added in an adjacent warehouse space along with a preview of a modular shotgun house designed by Tannen and noted architect Frank Gehry. But even the original July exhibition strayed slightly off the reservation with work by graffiti artists Anonymous Alex, Anonymous John and Anonymous Bud sharing space with wall-size pieces by St. Claude artists such as Alisoun Meehan’s luridly colorful BIFSTEAK painting of a slab of raw meat (above). Anyone who follows the St. Claude scene closely encountered in this show a mix of familiarity and surprise.<br /><br /><a href=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SnUICV5TOmI/AAAAAAAAAtE/tjPysN3KUXE/s1600-h/~~P3s.jpg”><img style=“margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 400px;” src=“http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4zZfvwTP028/SnUICV5TOmI/AAAAAAAAAtE/tjPysN3KUXE/s400/~~P3s.jpg” alt=”“ id=“BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365203367412054626” border=“0” /></a>For instance, Julie Pieri’s Betty Crocker cookbook-inspired collages were accompanied at the opening by a Pieri performance, OUCH, in which she stood motionless as a mime artist wearing nothing but bikini briefs and hundreds of Band-aids, which gallery goers were invited to yank off. <span> (See <a href=“http://insideinsideart.blogspot.com/” rel=“nofollow” target=”_blank”>insideinsideart.blogspot.com</a> for more images .</span><span>) </span>Ouch indeed! And discerning aesthetes will recognize in Dan Tague’s spectacular LITE BRITE BIRD sculpture of LED lights and Styrofoam (top) the logo of the Pontiac Firebird, a car long associated with Tague’s native West Bank—one example among many of how this show occasionally transcended theory to cross over into something more mysterious. ~Eric Bookhardt<br /><span>ST. CLAUDE ON JULIA: New Work by St. Claude Arts District Artists<br />Through Aug. 25<br />Studio 527, 527 Julia St., 638-3057<br />Email:<br /></span><div><img width=“1” height=“1” src=“https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2692635212517024217-5996019291110114425?l=www.insidenola.org” /></div>