Beyond the Paint: Recent Episodes
Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Comprising the de Young Museum in Golden Gate Park and the Legion of Honor in Lincoln Park, we are the largest public arts institution in the City of San Francisco and one of the largest art museums in the United States.
TranscriptKaty: Situated in the sculpture garden at the de Young museum, this is Heights I by Rose B. Simpson: an androgynous human figure who stands tall and alludes to the idea of profound spiritual growth. Through its antenna, the figure appears taller, yes in height but also in knowledge — as if it’s showing us an extension of wisdom that grows from the brain. I ask Rose B. Simpson how she hopes people will feel in front of this work. Rose: When you stand in front of my piece, Heights I, I hope that you feel, inside of yourself, a deep knowing. That you see reflected in the piece a part of yourself that is connected to information that is always available to us if we put up the right kind of antenna. So, how does that feel inside your body? What questions do you have that can be answered when you extend that type of antenna?Katy: Simpson is a mixed-media artist from Santa Clara Pueblo, New Mexico, a Tewa tribal community next to Española, New Mexico. She comes from a long lineage of ceramicists, including her mother, and her work is grounded in Pueblo traditions and ideologies.Rose: All I saw around me were women working in clay. I feel that they helped build a neural pathway inside of myself that allowed me to believe that it’s possible to (a) work in clay and have a deep relationship to ceramics and (b) to make it a lifestyle.This is the first sculpture by a Native American artist installed in the de Young’s sculpture garden. Located at one of the museum’s entrances, it also makes us think about what kind of experience we want to have.Rose: To have Heights I in the foreground of the museum, outside in a natural world, in the Bay Area, it feels important to me because that space is a threshold where we’re going through our daily lives, navigating the mundane, and entering into a museum, into a space of art, representation, and honoring of the creative processes of our human world. That we kind of shift gears, and we start paying attention in a different way. To have Heights I out there in front of the museum to me is really special because we need to tap into a different sense of witness when we’re approaching the creative processes in our world. And those creative processes are connecting to a deeper awareness, and I think oftentimes that deeper awareness also happens when we’re in the natural world. So, if you can, take a minute before you enter the museum and take a deep breath and look around and notice the weather, notice the sounds, notice the sculpture of trees, notice the sculpture of humans, in space, in the way we navigate our world and each other, but also the sky and the buildings, and how we have co-created this incredible world, and that we are all artists of our own existence.Image: Rose B. Simpson, Heights I, 2022. Patinated bronze, 85 x 16 x 9 1/2 in. (215.9 x 40.64 x 24.13 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Phyllis C. Wattis Fund for Major Accessions (AOA), 2023.11
Transcript:My name’s Michael Mel. I’m from the Mogei community in Mount Hagan.What you see in that image is obviously a warrior from my area in the Western Highlands Province of the Highlands of Papua New Guinea. When this image was taken, it would’ve been taken at a cultural show or festival, and a group of them would’ve been asked to perform. The headdress and the performance are fairly significant to Western Islands communities because they indicated a significant aspect of cultural life. It’s the kind of decoration people would’ve had when they were dancing and performing and celebrating peacemaking ceremony.What is atop the man’s head is a wig — a wig that is made entirely of human hair. The hair would’ve been collected mostly from young men. The boys were asked to bring their hair in and a specialist, or a person whose skills are to build the wig, would trim their hair, and then he would gradually put all of those hair together in that shape. That wig is worn by young men who’ve been initiated and who are now part of the community, and then passed on to others in the generation. Men used to wear them, but also women, particularly wives of chiefs and very significant women. The other aspect that’s very significant are the leaves — those three white leaves. The underside is the white, the topside is usually green, as well as the green moss, quite often that’s up in the higher altitudes, adding to the decorations of the wig, and the face, and the ears, and so forth. So it’s a connection to the land and to the environment. You will see the man’s eyes and face have been partly covered in black, and that’s made of ash that would’ve been crushed and then mixed with fat to stick onto the face of the dancer. And then the white strips, as well as the “glasses,” if you like, that surround the dancer’s eyes are made of white clay. And that relates very much to when you look at the birds of paradise. What is around the eyes — and the color and the very fine featherwork that nature, in its own way, has had to put on the birds’ faces, and in particular around the eyes, were very significant to Highlands communities. So taking on that aspect of the birds onto our own faces, so we are like birds as well.The eyes are very significant and the ears are very significant senses for the Highlands communities because that’s the way they read the environment and the environment, if you like, read them. So interpreting, reading signs and that — for example, you hear a bird at a certain time, you know that it’s going to rain. A splendid array of featherwork, that would’ve been planted on top of the wig for the dancer. And that would’ve been coming from so many species of birds of paradise. And so when you danced and performed, the flightiness and the movements all aligned with birds. When the men would’ve danced, they would sing of the great leaders, and there’d be recollection of memory and history, but all put into that musical format. They’d do a small plié, a set of them, almost on tippy-toes, where you’d go up and down and up and down, and that would then allow the feathers to sway back and forth in time. And then you’d have drums that would accompany. The photograph would’ve been taken when the dancer had actually come out of the performance; he had put away his precious feathers. And people do not wear the wig alone, so he had to wear the two sticks on either side on the wig, just to show that it’s not empty. Quite often people in our communities see body decoration as a window into your soul, so that very fine things are displayed to show what is really on the inside, to those on the outside.Image: Irving Penn, New Guinea Man with Painted on Glasses, 1970, printed July 1979. Platinum-palladium print, 20 3/16 x 19 3/4 in. (51.3 x 50.1 cm.) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Gift of The Irving Penn Foundation, 2020, 2020.314.9 © The Irving Penn Foundation
In Lee Mingwei’s Sonic Blossom (2013–present), an opera singer approaches visitors and invites them to be serenaded with a song selected from Franz Schubert’s lieder (songs written for one voice). Lee Mingwei listened to these songs with his mother while caring for her after heart surgery in 2012, as she used to sing them to him as a child. Listen on to experience these powerful songs for yourself.Song: Nacht und Träume, D. 827 “Night and Dream”Singer: Chea Young KangLee Mingwei: Rituals of Care is on view at the de Young from February 17 through July 7.Learn more: https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/lee-mingwei
In Lee Mingwei’s Sonic Blossom (2013–present), an opera singer approaches visitors and invites them to be serenaded with a song selected from Franz Schubert’s lieder (songs written for one voice). Lee Mingwei listened to these songs with his mother while caring for her after heart surgery in 2012, as she used to sing them to him as a child. Listen on to experience these powerful songs for yourself.Song: Frühlingsglaube, D. 686 “Spring Faith”Singer: Kyla KnoxLee Mingwei: Rituals of Care is on view at the de Young from February 17 through July 7.Learn more: www.famsf.org/exhibitions/lee-mingwei
In Lee Mingwei’s Sonic Blossom (2013–present), an opera singer approaches visitors and invites them to be serenaded with a song selected from Franz Schubert’s lieder (songs written for one voice). Lee Mingwei listened to these songs with his mother while caring for her after heart surgery in 2012, as she used to sing them to him as a child. Listen on to experience these powerful songs for yourself.Song: Du bist die Ruh, D. 776 “You are Peace, the Mild Peace”Singer: Jayne DilibertoLee Mingwei: Rituals of Care is on view at the de Young from February 17 through July 7.Learn more: https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/lee-mingwei
In Lee Mingwei’s Sonic Blossom (2013–present), an opera singer approaches visitors and invites them to be serenaded with a song selected from Franz Schubert’s lieder (songs written for one voice). Lee Mingwei listened to these songs with his mother while caring for her after heart surgery in 2012, as she used to sing them to him as a child. Listen on to experience these powerful songs for yourself.Song: Auf dem Wasser zu singen, D. 774 “In the Middle of the Shimmer of the Reflecting WavesSinger: Chea Young KangLee Mingwei: Rituals of Care is on view at the de Young from February 17 through July 7.Learn more: https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/lee-mingwei
In Lee Mingwei’s Sonic Blossom (2013–present), an opera singer approaches visitors and invites them to be serenaded with a song selected from Franz Schubert’s lieder (songs written for one voice). Lee Mingwei listened to these songs with his mother while caring for her after heart surgery in 2012, as she used to sing them to him as a child. Listen on to experience these powerful songs for yourself.Song: An den Mond, D. 193 “To The Moon” Singer: Becky LauLee Mingwei: Rituals of Care is on view at the de Young from February 17 through July 7.Learn more: https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/lee-mingwei
TranscriptThis sculpture may be smaller than most of the statues and portrait busts in the Legion of Honor’s galleries, but to me, it’s just as powerful. This sculpture was made by Claudel in 1899, at the cusp of a new century. Its title translates to “dreaming by the fireside.” And it’s an introspective work, what Claudel called “sketches from nature” of a woman resting by a fire, engaged in an intimate — almost dreamlike — act, free from the burdens of the outside world, and on her own terms. Claudel was often inspired by what she called the “small incidents of life.” She was known to walk through the streets and promenades of Paris, catching moments that would spark endless ideas for future compositions. She was born in 1864 and was one of the first women to complete her training at the Académie Colarossi in Paris. Claudel, famously, worked as a studio assistant for Auguste Rodin, and the pair had a passionate love affair. Both used each other as their subjects and muses — immortalizing their love in sensual compositions, intertwined and dancing, but also in subjects that reflected their complicated relationship, from loss to abandonment. Despite her influence on him, critics continued to position her as his follower — and, to a degree, they still do to this day, with his name towering over hers. Her frustration at this injustice led to her distancing herself from him, and taking her work in a new direction. But following this departure, Rodin and his community largely cut her off, cementing her outcast status in a tight-knit art world. The piece you're looking at now was made on both practical and commercial grounds and reflects Claudel's financial struggles. Like many of her pieces, this work was reproduced numerous times, in this case, 65. Due to its small scale, it could double as a nightlight. Looking closely, you can see the thinness of the marble — when lit from behind, the logs illuminate. Only a matter of years later, in 1913, Claudel entered an asylum, where she remained until her death in 1943. Although her brother staged a posthumous exhibition of her work eight years after her death, it was derided and dismissed. Her work was not taken seriously again until after the feminist era of the 1970s, and much of it is only coming to light now.Image: Camille Claudel, Rêve au coin du feu (Dreaming by the Fireside), 1899. Marble, 8 3/4 x 12 1/2 x 9 3/4 in. (22.2 x 31.8 x 24.8 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Gift of Marie-Joséphe de Touzalin Dunaway, 2018.88
Transcript Hello everyone and welcome to Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Without Men. My name is Katy Hessel. I am an art historian from London, and I’ve made it my mission in life to celebrate the work of women artists. You may know me from my Instagram and podcast called The Great Women Artists, or my book: The Story of Art Without Men. Now, I want to tackle the gender imbalance in our museums by highlighting some of the best works by women and gender non-conforming artists in permanent collections worldwide. This is an audio guide featuring collection works at the Legion of Honor and de Young museums. Today, we’ll explore expansive abstract landscapes, immersive sculptural worlds, costume drawings, textiles, art that fights for political and social justice, and a whole lot more. Let’s get going!
TranscriptHelen Frankenthaler once described the act of painting as having “the landscape in my arms as I painted it. I like to think this is what we see in Crusades, a giant orange abyss that immerses you from the top to the bottom. Oranges are interspersed with greens, and the reds subtly and silently sail throughout the canvas. Frankenthaler gives us an education in looking. She tests our vision and the shapes and forms that we might be witnessing. As I stand in front of this work, I ask myself: Am I looking at something from afar . . . or at the minutiae of something up close . . . and, from what angle?I like to look at this painting as though I have my back to the floor, looking up to the sky on a blazing hot day in California. My eyes sore from aftervision — when you’ve been looking at sunlight for too long and everything is tainted with that glowing orange color. That red mark on the lower right-hand side is just about visible, as if subbing in for a plane cruising through the sky, leaving behind a glimmer of its contrails. Or, flip it, and it’s as if I am on that plane, looking down onto a desert flooded with dry arid colors. It’s known that she made this work after a visit to Arizona. Helen Frankenthaler was born in 1928 and raised in New York City. She was taught by the great Mexican muralist Rufino Tamayo and, in the early 1950s, joined the Abstract Expressionists in Downtown Manhattan. It’s a style known for both heavy, action-like brushstrokes and calming fields of color, and Frankenthaler carved out her own language. She called this her “soak-stain” technique. She removed the canvas from the easel and placed it on the floor, thinned down oil paint, and poured and brushed it onto raw canvas, creating surfaces flooded with spontaneous, multilayered shapes and forms. As Frankenthaler stated, “What concerns me when I work, is not whether the picture is a landscape, or whether it’s pastoral, or whether somebody will see a sunset in it. What concerns me is — did I make a beautiful picture?” Frakenthaler’s works are an invitation to see what we want in them, immerse ourselves in color, and feel transported to wherever they might take us. Image: Helen Frankenthaler, Crusades (detail), 1976. Acrylic on canvas, Object: 108 1/4 x 60 1/16 in. (275 x 152.6 cm); Frame: 109 1/4 x 61 3/4 x 2 in. (277.5 x 156.8 x 5.1 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purhcase, Bequest of Susan Euphrat, 2014.55 ©️ Helen Frankenthaler Foundation, Inc. / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
Transcript Elizabeth Catlett was a trailblazer. Born in Washington, DC, in 1915, she spent her childhood hearing stories of enslavement and resistance told to her by her grandmother. Fueled by her history and heritage, Catlett dedicated seven decades to a career that saw her sculpt, draw, and print dignified and uplifting portraits of African American people. The sculpture Stepping Out from the year 2000 is one such example. Let’s go back to Catlett’s beginnings. A student of Howard University, a historically Black research university in Washington, DC, in the 1930s, Catlett was taught by Lois Mailou Jones, a key painter and figure in the Harlem Renaissance. Later, she would study with the American Realist Grant Wood, and it was he who encouraged her to make art about what she knew best: her own story. Catlett made prints of sharecroppers, mother and child sculptures, and drawings of men and women to inspire people at a time of political and social unrest. Through her art, she advocated for social change with key political messaging. She based herself in the US, but due to growing suspicions of Communist leanings, in the 1940s, Catlett relocated to Mexico City. She joined the radical printmaking collective the Taller de Gráfica Popular and remained in Mexico for the rest of her life. Stepping Out is a near life-size sculpture of a woman and was completed towards the end of her career. Positioned with one foot forward, as if moving — or perhaps “stepping out” — into the future, she wears a formfitting dress and low heeled shoes on her feet, as if to show and own her femininity. When I first saw this work at the de Young, I looked around me at the other works displayed here. In the modern and contemporary art gallery, we see paintings of workers, stories exploring American Realism and urbanization, and the tensions between city and rural life. Many of these artists in the space grew up at a similar time to Catlett, but I love how the curators made Stepping Out the room’s focal point — as if punctuating it with the voice and image of a woman going about her day with poise and elegance.So many of our museums are populated with sculptures of Grecian-style women — such as the nude or seminude Aphrodite, goddess of love and sex. But here, Catlett shows us a new icon: the everyday woman, an icon for a more hopeful, and more real, liberated world. Just as Catlett wrote of her art: “It must answer a question, or wake somebody up, or give a shove in the right direction — our liberation.”Image: Elizabeth Catlett, Stepping Out, 2000. Laminated mahogany, 64 1/2 x 21 x 17 1/2 in. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, The Johnnie L. Cochran, Jr. Art Fund, Inc., Beta Upsilon Boulé - Sigma Pi Phi Fraternity, The Links, Incorporated - San Francisco Chapter, Fine Arts Museums Tribute Funds, Ms. Del M. Anderson and Mr. John Handy, Mrs. Marguerite Archer, Rena Merritt Bancroft, PhD; Ms. Jo-Ann Beverly, Rev. “J” Edgar Boyd, Mrs. Mary Pat Cress, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Geist, Maxwell C. and Frankie Jacobs Gillette, Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Johnson, Jr.; Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Lathan, Mr. and Mrs. Terry E. Perucca and Dr. Alma Ribbs, 1999.199 ©️ Catlett Mora Family Trust / Licensed by VAGA at Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
TranscriptThis giant 3-meter-high tapestry of a man in a flamboyant suit combines African American quilting traditions with contemporary designer labels. His gaze meets ours with poise and nobility.Bisa Butler’s work starts with an image. Earlier on in her career, it was portraits of people she knew, but recently it’s been images of Black sitters she found in the National Archives. She’s drawn to those who dressed up for staged portraits, women with exuberant dresses or men with sharp suits. But, when she looked at how they’d been described — billed with labels such as “washerwoman,” as opposed to their name or other roles in life — she wanted to repurpose their images with a whole range of personalities. Through her work, Butler honors and reconfigures the people in these pictures. She elevates them through dazzling colors in giant textile works that give them new life. In All Power To The People, we meet a local man who lived in the Bay Area in the 1960s and 70s. He was photographed by Leon Borensztein — an instructor from the San Francisco Art Institute known for taking pictures of people in the community.Let’s now think about the multiple layers of lenses. An image taken through the lens of Borensztein, re-interpreted and responded to by Butler, who imagines the character through vivid textiles, beads, and more. She now invites us to add our interpretation, and for this person to enter our lives. What’s so powerful about Butler’s work is that even if we don’t have the name of this sitter, she keeps their image alive; as if to say, this person matters. Let’s take a closer look at the details: the dignified gaze; the colors that make up his face in a painterly effect, an afro of glistening stitched beads. My eye is then drawn to his grip. Firm hands show him as in control of his image. And although the background doesn’t situate him in any specific place or time, I love how it vibrates and pulsates, keeping his image in motion. To my mind, Butler’s works are just as much a portrait as they are a study in fiber, a medium that the artist has said everyone shares and understands. Think about what you’re wearing right now; how does that piece of clothing sit and feel on your body? Sewing has been in Butler’s DNA forever – and she comes from a lineage of women who made their own clothes. This work came into the de Young museum collection in an unusual way. When Laura Camerlengo, curator in charge of costume and textile arts, expressed her desire to acquire the textile for the Museums’ collection, dozens of (mainly) women and Bay Area artists stepped forward to help. These benefactors included members of the Textile Arts Council, the support group of the Museums’ textile arts department. I love that it is of a figure from the San Francisco community, funded by the San Francisco community.Image: Bisa Butler, All Power To The People (after Man with Afro, San Francisco, California, by Leon A. Borensztein) (detail), 2023. Printed cotton, printed synthetic, synthetic lamé, cotton velvet, synthetic net, vinyl; quilted and appliquéd, 114 x 67 in. (289.561 x 170.18 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Textile Art Trust Fund and donations from Bettina S. Bryant, Joyce Dostale, and other textile arts supporters
TranscriptNicknamed the Baroness with the Brush, Lempicka was famed for her jazz-age style that fused the meticulousness of the Renaissance with the hard-edges of Art Deco. Her figures are often tightly cropped within the four corners of the frame, and I find they have a metallic quality to them — or perhaps a magic magnetism — drawing you in with their sharp gazes and angular cheekbones. Born in Poland at the end of the 19th century, Lempicka was raised in Russia, but escaped at the outbreak of the revolution. From there, she settled in Paris, the center of the avant-garde, where she thrived. She painted celebrated characters in the highest fashions of the day and embraced sexual liberation. She epitomized the modern woman and was apparently known to break for only “baths and champagne.” This was, of course, in her modernist apartment-slash-studio, designed by her equally successful sister, Adrienne Górska.Here we meet her in 1932, through an intimate study of her daughter, Kizette. With a typical ’30s hairdo, Kizette clutches a sketchbook and looks out, slightly ominously, into the distance. She appears on the CUSP of adulthood; although her face is mature, her collar and polka-dot dress give away her youthful age. Lempicka was only in her teens when she had Kizette, and often told people they were sisters. Although their relationship was close, it came with complications. Hailed for her exuberantly colored portraits, Lempicka is to my mind just as important a draftsperson as she is a painter. And it’s through this exquisite drawing, rendered in black chalk, that we see these skills executed in her distinctive Art Deco aesthetic. It’s also historically important to note that this is the first work by Lempicka to have ever been actively purchased by a North American museum. All other works in museums were either given or bequeathed. The Legion of Honor is also the first museum in the US to stage a solo exhibition by Lempicka, in 2024. Image: Étude pour une jeune fille dessinant (study for a Young Girl Drawing) (detail), 1932. Graphite on paper, 12 13/16 x 9 1/8 in. (32.544 x 23.178 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Lisa Sardegna and David Carrillo, Phoebe Cowles and Robert Girard, and Achenbach Foundation for the Graphic Arts Endowment Fund, 2022.10 ©️ 2024 Tamara de Lempicka Estate, LLC / ADAGP, Paris / ARS, NY
TranscriptRuth Asawa is somewhat of a legend in San Francisco. Her sculptures, often made collaboratively with local communities, populate street corners, parks and schools. But the de Young museum is where you’ll find the largest collection of her sculptures in the world. Just look at those wired cells cocooning smaller ones, or those radiating out like fireworks frozen in time! Ruth Asawa was an artist who pushed the boundaries of what sculpture could be, but she was also a great educator. Born in 1926, she was subjected to heightened racism after the US government targeted Japanese Americans following the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. Along with her family, she was forcibly removed from their home and sent to a concentration camp. Against the backdrop of the abhorrent conditions of the camps, those who were incarcerated came together to support each other. Adults used their skills to teach the next generation. And this included professional artists, such as the Disney animator Tom Okamoto, who helped instill a love of art in the young Ruth Asawa. You can see where that love of the line came from — it’s almost like her sculptures are a continuous line, in all shapes and sizes. Ruth Asawa went on to train at Black Mountain College, a progressive school which emphasized “learning through doing,” making things with your hands, and saw the likes of math, science, art, and dancing all on an equal level. But it was a trip to Mexico in the late 1940s that really helped Asawa develop her style. Moving to San Francisco in 1949, she set up her studio, and in the ensuing years would loop sculptures at her kitchen table with her six children. Standing among Ruth Asawa’s artwork here at the de Young is like being in a subterranean universe. I feel enraptured by the sculptures and their shadows. And standing on the threshold between the two makes me feel like I am also part of the installation. Asawa’s sculptures look like coral, trees, or a macro view of the cells that live inside our bodies. They shift between hard and soft, strong and vulnerable, as they expand and contract, changing their appearance the more you look at them. This permanent installation at the de Young has been on view since 2005 and was installed under the supervision of Ruth Asawa herself. It’s free to the public, in line with her vision for art for all in this city. Asawa founded the Alvarado School Arts Workshop in 1968, which enabled children of all backgrounds to make art from accessible materials. In 1982, she founded the first public arts school in the city, which was renamed Ruth Asawa San Francisco School of the Arts in her honor in 2010. And today, Asawa’s teaching philosophies continue to inform the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco’s free-of-charge school and family programs.Image: Ruth Asawa installation, de Young. Photograph by Henrik Kam ©️ Ruth Asawa Lanier, Inc. / Courtesy David Zwirner / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
TranscriptI find this scene of a woman bathing full of intimacy. But also privacy, as if we’ve just stumbled into her space, unsure of whether we should be here or not. The woman’s long, smooth, nude back is turned towards us, while her bottom half is covered in striped cloth — a dress undone, with sleeves dangling by her sides… Her face is concealed — both to us and in her reflection in the mirror — bringing an air of mystery as we catch her in action, dipping her hands into the cerulean water, about to splash her face, and look up… This is Mary Cassatt’s Woman Bathing (La Toilette) from 1890–91. To me, Cassatt is most notable for her charming paintings of mothers and children, swept up in a loose, feathery style evocative of her Impressionist contemporaries. Here, however, is an example of one of her aquatints — a printmaking method reminiscent of watercolor-like effects. Aquatints were especially popular in Japan. A year prior to making this work, Cassatt saw an exhibition of more than 700 Japanese prints in Paris. These became popular thanks to new trade links between Japan and the West in the mid-1800s, which hadn't existed for centuries, owing to Japanese isolationism, which was a response to unfair Western trade practices. The Impressionists were especially influenced by the prints, and would draw from their cropped compositions, flat shapes, and skill with color. Cassatt herself was a collector of Japanese prints. Looking closely at this work, we can see where she's drawn inspiration from them. The flat-shaped jug in the foreground, the floral-patterned floor that’s tilted and slightly off-perspective, and the block colors — the dusty pink on the dress, turquoise background, and diluted umber on the cupboard. Mary Cassatt was born in the US in 1844 to a supportive family who took her on trips to France and encouraged her art making. She arrived in Paris in 1866, and exhibited at four of the eight Impressionist exhibitions. These were organized outside of the French Royal Academy and paved the way for a new style of art. While many male Impressionists painted landscapes or other outdoor subjects, setting up their studios outside (thanks to recent inventions like the paint tube), women were restricted. They often painted indoor scenes featuring other women, capturing the essence of what it was like to be a woman in the 19th century. And it’s this that we see in this work. Woman Bathing (La Toilette) earned Cassatt widespread acclaim. So much so that in 1976, it set the record for the highest price paid at auction for a print by an American artist, regardless of gender.Image: Mary Cassatt, Woman Bathing (La Toilette) (detail), 1890–91. Color aquatint and drypoint, 14 3/8 x 10 1/2 in. (36.5 x 26.6 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Achenbach Foundation for Graphic Arts Endowment Fund and William H. Noble Bequest Fund, 1980.1.8
TranscriptI can’t help but be overwhelmed by the energy and dynamism of this painting. Made up of thick impasto, with layers upon layers of reds, yellows, greens, and blues, blazing across the canvas, this work is an explosion of paint. Filled with images that morph in and out of abstraction — like the two red panthers in the foreground — it’s almost as though we are watching a scene play out that can’t quite be distilled. It’s full of motion; it layers both paint and stories. Mary Lovelace O’Neal is a beloved Bay Area artist who taught at Berkeley for many years. Born in 1942 in Jackson, Mississippi, she was the daughter of a music director at the University of Arkansas and Tougaloo College, something that connects to the content of this painting. Because “I live in a black marble palace with black panthers and white doves” is a line from the opera Amahl and the Night Visitors, sung by King Balthazar, representing Africa. This was a production which her father staged every year and that Lovelace O’Neal starred in. Painted in 1990, the artwork was also made in reaction to a trip she took to Morocco, a place she has described as “the biblical presence of North Africa.” Looking at it now, you get a sense of the heat and atmosphere of a place that clearly had such an effect on her. A loaded and politically charged symbol, the panthers speeding through the canvas could allude to the Black Panther Party for Self Defense, founded nearby in Oakland, California. I love reading this work like an altarpiece, in three sections, with the lighter yellow panel in the center differentiating itself from the others. Architectural in style, to me it feels like we’re walking into the Black Marble Palace.Image: Mary Lovelace O’Neal, Driskell’s Red Dogs, aka I Live in a Black Marble Palace with Black Panthers and White Doves #8 (detail), ca. 1990. Mixed media on canvas, 81 x 138 in. (205.74 x 350.521 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Phyllis C. Wattis Fund for Major Accessions, 2022.35. Photograph of installation at the de Young museum, 2023
TranscriptThe year is 1791. France is in the throes of the Revolution, and the future of the country is in turmoil. This painting is of a mythological story, but it speaks to the political moment much more than we might at first think. Let’s take a closer look. On the far right we have Psyche, in a white dress, embracing her mother for the very last time. Their emotions are illustrated by both the stormy sky behind and the crystal-like tears that fall from their eyes. Also in a state of suffering is Psyche’s father, dressed in red on the far left, with his head buried in his hand, while her sisters comfort each other. The figure praying is the oracle of Delphi. Here's Emily Beeny, Chief Curator of the Legion of Honor and Barbara Wolf Curator in Charge of European Art, to explain the story.The story of Cupid and Psyche begins as a tragedy and ends as a comedy. Psyche is the daughter of a king and her father receives a prophecy from the Delphic oracle saying that his daughter will marry a creature of immeasurable destructive power. So in order to save the kingdom from the predations of her anticipated bridegroom, Psyche’s family decides to abandon her on a rock overlooking the sea. And so the moment depicted in Benoist’s painting is that moment of parting, when Psyche’s parents are about to leave her behind to be claimed by her monstrous bridegroom. Of course, the creature of immeasurable destructive power invoked by the sibyl, was actually Cupid, god of love, who ends up as the spouse of Psyche and the happy ending of the story. And it is that later portion of the story that’s usually represented by artists in the period — the love story bit with the two lovely nudes as opposed to this turbulent, tragic moment of, sort of, wrenching family drama that Benoist has selected.What makes Benoist’s version interesting — and different to most — is that Cupid is not present, and we see the story from Psyche’s perspective. Benoist makes us feel the agony Psyche experienced leaving her family, and we empathize with the sacrifice she has to make.Benoist was 23 years old when she made and exhibited this painting in 1791. That year marked the first time the biannual Salon in Paris was open to those who weren’t members of the Royal Academy. And this opened the door for more women to submit and exhibit their work. Image: Marie-Guillemine Benoist, Psyche Bidding Her Family Farewell (detail), 1791. Oil on canvas, 43 3/4 x 57 1/8 in. (111 x 145 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, John A. and Cynthia Fry Gunn; Phoebe Cowles and Robert Girard; Margaret and William R. Hearst III; Diane B. Wilsey; Barbara A. Wolfe; The Jay and Clara McEvoy Trust; The Michael Taylor Trust; The Margaret Oakes Endowment Income Fund; The Harris Family; Ariane and Lionel Sauvage; and an anonymous donor, 2022.2
Transcript“It’s not the medium that counts. It is what you see in it and what you do with it,” said Louise Nevelson. She was one of the most inventive sculptors working in the mid-20th century, and is hailed for her monochromatic, architectural wall sculptures, amassed from recycled objects and painted black, gold, or white. Sky Cathedral's Presence I, made from 1959 to 1962, is one of her more monumental works. Let's take a look. While at first you might see painted boxes stacked on top of each other, get up close and you’ll find much more.On the right-hand side, we see bits of banisters framed in a box, or a circle that creates harmony against the broken planks of wood underneath it. You question whether you are looking at a fruit basket, a bedside table, or a filing cabinet that held important documents. By showing them as defunct, Nevelson gets you to think about the past lives of these objects, and beyond that, how they were made from wood that was once a tree. Nevelson’s Ukrainian Jewish family worked as woodcutters before emigrating to the US at the turn of the 20th century.Now try standing back, and look around you. Perhaps there’s a monochromatic painting by Robert Motherwell, or another work of abstracted shapes. Suddenly, to me, these paintings appear different. By looking closely at Nevelson’s sculpture, she gets us to look beyond these abstracted marks and to the historical context in which they were made; the emotion that was bound up in them, and the empty void that artists of the post–World War II era had to fill — to comprehend a broken world that was in need of rebuilding. Let’s think about the title: Sky Cathedral. When Nevelson was making this work, the city of New York was being built up around her with skyscrapers that soared upwards towards the clouds. This work gives the feeling of infinite building blocks, but the idea that it’s a cathedral also makes me think about what it could represent: respite and reprieve in a time of devastation and darkness. By amassing her work from scraps found on the street, Nevelson shows us how we can physically reformulate detritus and turn it into something new. A reminder of the possibilities of making new dialogues, forming new communities, and finding beauty in something that has been thrown away. Image: Louise Nevelson, Sky Cathedral's Presence I (detail), 1959–1962. Painted wood and found objects, 107 x 120 1/8 x 21 1/2 in. (271.8 x 305.1 x 54.6 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Foundation purchase, Phyllis C. Watts Fund for Major Accessions, 2017.50 ©️ Estate of Louise Nevelson / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
TranscriptThis is a double-sided drawing by the great Surrealist Leonor Fini. It is a study for a costume design for two characters in the ballet Le Rêve de Léonor, translating to “the dream of Leonor.” The ballet premiered at London's Royal Opera House in 1949. It was inspired by a dream Fini had and was a highly imaginative production.Set to music by Benjamin Britten, with choreography by Sir Frederick Ashton — who was known for Cinderella and Fini’s favorite, the Tales of Beatrix Potter — the ballet follows the story of a young bald girl who chases a beautiful blond wig. Set in a nocturnal landscape, with monsters and dragons, the story goes that the bald girl chasing the wig was captured by “voluptuous and mocking figures covered with long hair.” I wonder if this could be the character on the left… Sent by a pomegranate to the Underworld, where she is tempted by gluttony in the form of King Nougat and his whipped creams, the girl dreams she has become a white owl and plays with beautiful feathered beings. Then dawn arrives and she awakes… Leonor Fini had a penchant for the fantastical. Born in Argentina in 1907, as a child she fled to Italy with her mother to escape her domineering Catholic father. After suffering from conjunctivitis, she had her eyes bandaged for months. According to her, this let her look deep inside her imagination. Exposed to books and Renaissance art, she taught herself to paint, and landed in Paris in the 1920s, where she mixed with the Surrealists. She has been described by art historian Whitney Chadwick as “tall and striking, with jet-black hair and piercing eyes … possessing a strange combination of feline grace.” Qualities, which I think, are evident in these characters.The purpose for this study is one of function: to show the dancers how they can embody the personality of their characters. On the front side, we see figures dancing en pointe, and on the reverse we see the story play out: the bald girl chasing that beautiful blond wig… Dance and theater is steeped in the history of the Legion of Honor. When the museum was established in 1924, cofounder Alma Spreckles — a huge fan of music and ballet — began a collection focusing on drawings of costumes and set designs, which the museum continues to pursue. This history is something to keep in mind when looking around the museum. Functional and full of imagination, for me, this drawing captures the spirit of Fini, an artist who spanned artforms, defied genres, and was constantly pushing the boundaries of art — translating the worlds that exist deep in our head! Image: Leonor Fini, Costume designs for the ballet “Le Rêve de Léonor” (recto) (detail), 1949. Gouache and pen and ink on green paper (recto); Gouache and pen and ink and graphite on paper, 12 1/4 x 9 1/4 in. (31.115 x 23.495 cm). Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase, Achenbach Foundation for Graphic Arts Fund and Prints and Drawings Fund, 2023.45a ©️ 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris
ABRAM JACKSON: Una arqueología del silencio. Kehinde Wiley dio este nombre a esta escultura monumental y a la propia exposición. Hay mucho que reflexionar aquí. Encuentre un espacio cercano donde pueda estar cómodo por unos minutos, mientras escuchamos al artista y a Hodari Davis:KEHINDE WILEY: La cuestión es utilizar el lenguaje de lo monumental para decir que estamos en una crisis profunda. Usted, espectador, tiene que llegar a un acuerdo en cuanto a cómo percibimos el cuerpo de la persona negra. Aquí, el cuerpo está desprovisto de vida; sin embargo, el caballo sigue encabritado, aún moviéndose.HODARI DAVIS: Es casi como ¿con quién se identifica? ¿Es usted ese caballo del Imperio que hemos visto tantas veces marchando sobre tantas ciudades por todo el mundo? ¿O es usted el cuerpo sobre el lomo de este caballo? Muchos de nosotros hemos sido educados para jurar lealtad a ese caballo, para estar orgullosos de los logros de ese caballo y a no ver ese cuerpo que está sobre el lomo del caballo, a no verlo en realidad.ABRAM JACKSON: Las estatuas de los generales de la Guerra Civil a caballo en Richmond, Virginia, fueron removidas tras las protestas por el asesinato de George Floyd en 2020. Pero la experiencia de Wiley con ellas, unos cuantos años atrás, le hicieron pensar a fondo acerca de las obras de arte que pueden encerrar tanto poder. KEHINDE WILEY: Por lo general, fueron producidas en las décadas de los 20 y los 30, como una forma de aterrorizar a la población negra del sur. Yo quería recrear ese lenguaje, quería inhalarlo y exhalar algo que fuera diferente.Arqueología es el acto de mover el pasado hacia el presente. Y pienso que mucho de lo que pasó tras el brutal asesinato de George Floyd tiene que ver con nuestro reconocimiento de su humanidad y la humanidad de tantos quienes nos parecemos a él, generaciones de gente que han sufrido la esclavitud de la persona como propiedad y la presencia del Imperio.¿Se trata de destrucción? No. Se trata, absolutamente, de la capacidad humana de sanar y reconstruir. Se trata de la resiliencia que ha sido nuestra salvación por generaciones. Mi trabajo se trata de la creación de estrategias para brillar, estrategias para extraer historias terribles y crear nuevos campos de providencia.HODARI DAVIS: Así que, ¿qué sucede cuando la gente confronta esto? Sé que el arte tiene la capacidad de hacer que las conversaciones difíciles se conviertan en muy fáciles y las conversaciones fáciles en muy difíciles. Eso es arte, ¿cierto? Con el simple hecho de presentarlo al mundo cambia nuestra opinión, cambia la manera en la que pensamos, cambia el tipo de conversaciones que hubiéramos tenido o no si no nos hubieran provocado tanto. Ese es el poder que tiene el arte.ABRAM JACKSON: Esta es la última sala de la exposición y el final de la audioguía. Pero de ninguna manera es el fin de la conversación. Tenemos varios recursos adicionales para ayudarle a que pueda dar sentido a esta poderosa exposición; entre ellos, un espacio para la reflexión crítica en el salón de murales Piazzoni Murals Room. Está en el primer piso, bajando las escaleras, justo afuera de Wilsey Court. También tenemos un cortometraje sobre la trayectoria de Kehinde Wiley y su proceso artístico, al cual puede accederse en la página web de la exposición.Deseamos agradecer a todas las personas entrevistadas: a la reverenda Wanda Johnson, de Oscar Grant Foundation; Hodari Davis, de Entretenimiento Educativo para la Equidad; la curadora Claudia Schmuckli; y, por supuesto, al propio artista.La audioguía está respaldada por Google.org, lo que permite que todos los visitantes accedan a ella de manera gratuita.El recorrido en audio estuvo narrado por mí, Abram Jackson. Fue escrito y producido por Frances Homan Jue. El diseño de sonido estuvo a cargo de Dennis Hysom. Gracias por escuchar.
WANDA JOHNSON: Mi nombre es Wanda Johnson. Soy la madre de Oscar Grant, quien fue asesinado el 1 de enero de 2009 en la estación Fruitvale de BART en Oakland, California.ABRAM JACKSON: Aquella noche, Oscar Grant fue baleado por la espalda, asesinado por un oficial de la policía del sistema de transporte rápido BART. Esta escultura, titulada Duelo juvenil, es de especial importancia para su madre. WANDA JOHNSON: Cuando lo mataron, sus amigos estuvieron en duelo por la muerte de un ser querido, de luto por la pérdida de un amigo, por la muerte de un familiar. Nunca se volverá atrás: ya no se podrá llamar a esa persona ni conversar con ella. Nunca se podrá hacer una broma, reírse y comer con esa persona. Pero ahora, me toca enfrentarme a estar sola.En la plataforma y en el hospital, en duelo, todos nosotros en duelo, preguntándonos ¿por qué?“Duelo juvenil” parece decir: “Debería tener paz. Debería poder vivir en libertad, no tener que esconder quién soy o temor a ser identificado, ni estar en la mira por mi apariencia. No debería ponerme la capucha de mi sudadera o una gorra para que no puedan ver mi verdadero yo”.Pienso en cómo tanta gente nuestra ha tenido que tener tanta fuerza y tanto esmero, y simplemente tantos dones, talentos y habilidades, y, sin embargo, pierden la vida en vano. Y ahora todos esos dones, sus talentos, su valentía, están sepultados en la tierra, junto con ellos.Así como este joven, estuve yo muchas mañanas, muchas noches. Hecha una bola, rezándole a Dios. ¿Por qué tenía que pasar esto? Y ahora, 13, 14 años después, aún resuena esa misma pregunta. ¿Por qué tuvo que sacar la pistola y dispararle cuando no era necesario?ABRAM JACKSON: Cuando termine de explorar este espacio, vaya a la última y trascendental sala de la exposición. Ahí nos encontramos para hablar de la figura a caballo.
ABRAM JACKSON: Las flores azules y blancas en la esquina inferior derecha de esta pintura nos dan una pista del motivo de su inspiración. Wiley se inspiró para la pose de esta figura en una pintura de Tiepolo —artista italiano del siglo XVIII— de una historia sacada de la mitología clásica. La obra representa la muerte de Jacinto, un joven mortal que, al morir, fue transformado en flores por el dios Apolo, quien lo amaba.La pintura de Tiepolo está llena de otros detalles que Wiley decidió dejar fuera: arcadas clásicas y estatuas, imágenes de querubines y dioses. Su cuestionamiento de las formas, los simbolismos y la importancia de los héroes de la pintura se remontan a su infancia en Los Ángeles.KEHINDE WILEY: Descubrí a los grandes maestros de la pintura cuando visitaba la biblioteca y los jardines Huntington, en Los Ángeles. Esas antiguas colecciones tienen retratos increíbles de nobles terratenientes, aristócratas, aquellas personas con pelucas empolvadas, y perros falderos y perlas, todos esos símbolos de poder que parecían tan distantes. Pero, al mismo tiempo, la maestría técnica de las pinturas era tan buena que me atrajo.Así que, desde una muy temprana edad, he tenido este tipo de fascinación por la naturaleza bombástica de los retratos, así como su sentido de esplendor retador y sin inhibiciones. Eran tan orgullosos y atrevidos que lucían su lujo con descaro. En verdad que me recordaron algunas de las actitudes por las que el hiphop fue criticado en sus comienzos: la naturaleza estridente, los golpes de pecho grandilocuentes. Lo que amo de ser artista es que puedes colonizar el espacio: eres capaz de entrar por esa puerta y decidir reorganizar los muebles. Lo que quería hacer era tomar el lenguaje de la pintura de caballete clásica occidental europea y encarnar ese lenguaje, ser capaz de posicionar a gente como yo dentro de ese campo de poder.ABRAM JACKSON: Nuestra siguiente parada es la escultura de bronce de un joven postrado que se agarra la cabeza.
ABRAM JACKSON: El punto de partida para esta figura de Wiley fue una tierna y realista representación de una mártir romana cristiana yaciendo sobre su tumba. El artista ha estado por mucho tiempo interesado en experimentar con fondos. Aquí, decidió llenarlo con amapolas. KEHINDE WILEY: Históricamente, los fondos han sido: hombre poderoso sentado en su tierra, todo es posesión (estos son mis animales, la casa es de mi posesión). Decidí hacer el fondo con esta decoración floral y así quitar toda la ansiedad que rodea a la posesión y, en su lugar, llenarla con el simple acto del crecimiento en sí.ABRAM JACKSON: Los colores vívidos de las amapolas complementan los cálidos reflejos en la piel de la figura. Wiley, de raíces negras estadounidenses por parte de su madre y nigerianas por parte de su padre, recientemente ha pasado temporadas en África Occidental. Como se dijo, muchas de las personas que modelaron para las obras de esta muestra son de Senegal.KEHINDE WILEY: África ha tenido una gran influencia en mi trabajo, porque voy a los mercados y veo telas que son inspiradoras. Veo colores que son inspiradores, historias y botánicas que no existen en mi trabajo de antes. También veo los diferentes tipos de negritud que allí existen.Aprendí cómo pintar la piel usando la blancura, como el modelo por el cual se aprecia el mundo. En la pintura de caballete occidental no existe una verdadera tradición para pintar la piel negra, así que uno mismo tiene que crearla: crear un vocabulario de negritud, un libro de reglas de juego de la negritud.Una de las cosas formidables de mis exposiciones es que la gente joven negra y morena empieza a asistir a los museos, como si esas instituciones fueran para ellos. Y deberían serlo.ABRAM JACKSON: Cuando termine de explorar esta sala, regrese a la sala anterior. Al pasar por el enorme cuadro de un hombre con camisa amarilla, dé vuelta a la derecha. La próxima parada será junto a la pintura de una mujer con blusa roja sin mangas, sentada sobre una tela anaranjada.
ABRAM JACKSON: La joven Tarentine es el título de esta escultura y también el de la enorme pintura ―del tamaño de una gran cartelera― de una mujer que yace entre hojas amarillas y que vimos anteriormente. Puede verse al final de la sala anterior, justo desde donde estamos. La fuente de Wiley para ambas obras fue una escultura de una mujer, del siglo XIX. Como en muchas ocasiones, el artista reinterpreta el tema y la pose, probando con diferentes materiales… y géneros.CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: Nuevamente, juega con la fluidez del género, lo que informa sobre lo que piensa acerca de la construcción de género a lo largo de la obra.ABRAM JACKSON: Tanto las pinturas como las esculturas de Wiley contienen renovación, pero también sufrimiento.KEHINDE WILEY: Usted verá esculturas que tienen estos zarcillos, estas vides que lentamente continúan el acto de vivir. Hay una resistencia en ello, un reconocimiento de la masacre y la terrible historia, pero también una insistencia en ser.ABRAM JACKSON: La escultura original fue una elegía a una mujer que murió muy joven. Las pinturas y esculturas de Wiley transmiten un sentimiento similar, aunque, por supuesto, hay una causa de dolor en estas figuras contemporáneas que ―nos podemos imaginar― es más grave. Escuchemos a Hodari Davis:HODARI DAVIS: Existe una dignidad y una especie de honor cuando se es recordado, convertido en un ícono. Pero también hay una ironía en ello, relativa a lo que sucedió y está sucediendo en San Francisco. No me puedo imaginar a nadie que viaje en el BART para ir al Museo de Young, y no tenga que pasar por los cuerpos de gente tendida en formas que son similares a aquellas que verán en el arte.Y nos hacen recordar a Tyre Nichols o George Floyd, o a tantos muchos otros. Se nos hace recordar.ABRAM JACKSON: El cuadro ovalado de la pintura de una mujer, aquí cerca, es nuestra siguiente parada.
KEHINDE WILEY: El origen de esta exposición se dio al tiempo que el mundo se cerraba. Cuando vemos que George Floyd es asesinado en las calles del país me doy a la tarea: empiezo a pensar no solo en ese momento explosivo que provoca al mundo entero pensar en los individuos negros de una manera diferente, sino que comienzo a idear cómo dar imagen a otros cuerpos asesinados a lo largo de la historia. Lo primero que hice fue indagar imágenes religiosas del Cristo caído.ABRAM JACKSON: La forma de esta escultura se inspira en la pintura del siglo XVI de Hans Holbein que Wiley vio por vez primera hace quince años. La obra muestra una vista claustrofóbica del Cristo muerto, como si se estuviera viendo su tumba desde un lado. El cuerpo de Cristo es absolutamente ordinario, pero como sabemos de quién se trata, es, al mismo tiempo, sagrado. Wiley quedó muy impresionado con esa imagen y dio a esta escultura de bronce un sentido de lo cotidiano y a la vez de lo heroico.KEHINDE WILEY: Existe una tradición en la pintura religiosa, acerca de la celebración de una vida que requiere ser contada nuevamente. Hay tantas oportunidades de conversar ahora acerca del potencial perdido, como un andamiaje para construir un futuro mejor.ABRAM JACKSON: Cuando termine de visitar esta sala, pase por la entrada a su izquierda. Nuestra próxima parada será en la escultura de bronce de un hombre, en el centro de la sala.
ABRAM JACKSON: Aquí, el uso poderoso de luz atrae nuestra atención hacia los párpados y las manos apretadas de este hombre, haciéndonos pensar que estamos ante un intenso sufrimiento o plegaria.CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: Wiley emplea una luz penetrante que baña el cuerpo en un aura de santidad que hace eco del tratamiento de lo divino en la pintura europea, la cual tiene su origen en la veneración del cuerpo de Cristo.KEHINDE WILEY: Existe una parte importante en las representaciones religiosas del éxtasis en relación al sufrimiento humano. Mucho de esto está representado a través de la luz, de una manera que casi se siente erótica: el sentimiento en el cual el cuerpo está dispuesto y completamente lleno de esta especie de divinidad, esta presencia extática.ABRAM JACKSON: Para la pose de esta figura Wiley se fijó en otro tipo de imágenes cristianas: una escultura de un joven romano llamado Tarsicio, quien murió en defensa de su fe. Tanto la escultura original como esta pintura fueron hechas para crear emoción y reverencia en el espectador. Los paralelos con la opresión de la juventud negra en este país son inevitables.KEHINDE WILEY: Pienso que, en el fondo, esta es la metáfora central de esta obra: el conflicto que existe entre la humanidad de este individuo y la existencia brutal de la naturaleza humana. Hay un deseo de ser visto, presente y completamente formado, pero también de mostrar a alguien que ha sido abatido y que ahora está representado como un potencial perdido, como evidencia de lo sagrado, como evidencia de algo hermoso que pudo haber sido.ABRAM JACKSON: Nuestra próxima parada será a su izquierda, al lado de la escultura de bronce de un hombre tendido sobre una caja de madera.
ABRAM JACKSON: Una escultura francesa del siglo XIX de una joven mujer de la mitología; su largo cabello ondea sobre las olas que la ahogaron cuando navegaba para reunirse con su prometido. Este es el origen melancólico de esta obra. Wiley pidió a su modelo que posara de la misma manera y le dio a su pintura el mismo título: La joven Tarentine.En lugar de olas, el artista ambienta una escena sólida, terrestre e increíblemente bella. Escuchemos a Hodari Davis, directora de Innovación de Entretenimiento Educativo para la Equidad, con sede en Oakland: HODARI DAVIS: Usted está viendo un cuerpo que está en reposo, pero también se aprecia esta vibrante vida alrededor de ese cuerpo: es un tanto paradójico. No se puede distinguir la diferencia entre un cuerpo que está muerto y un cuerpo en reposo. Y, sin embargo, lo estamos mirando. Es incómodo, ¿cierto? Pero ¿por qué un cuerpo en reposo nos hace sentir incómodos?KEHINDE WILEY: Lo que estoy tratando de hacer es sacar a relucir una imagen de lo que significa estar vulnerable, estar tendido. Estas pinturas son de personas que no están de pie, que no son dominantes en un espacio monumental, pero cuyo entorno es una especie de elegía: existe una tristeza que las rodea. Extrañamente, también se aprecia una especie de crecimiento en el plano de la imagen. Existe un deseo por mi parte de crear pinturas y esculturas que acunen a la persona, que reconozcan su vulnerabilidad.Están diseñadas para que tomen un espacio en el mundo, demanden una presencia, pero, además, ruegan que se les tome en cuenta como individuos. Creo que esta es una de las razones por las que quise apegarme tanto a los pequeños detalles de cada uno de los modelos de mis obras, para tener la capacidad de fijarme en sus uñas, sus peinados, las marcas que visten, como llenando los pulmones del individuo en vez de simplemente pintar una imagen bidimensional de un momento o de una crisis política.ABRAM JACKSON: Nuestra próxima parada será en la pintura ovalada de un hombre que aprieta sus manos contra su pecho.
ABRAM JACKSON: El tamaño de esta pintura es casi abrumador (como el de una valla publicitaria), y con toda intención. Los enormes cuadros tradicionalmente muestran a gobernantes o batallas, imágenes que expresan poder. Es en estas enormes carteleras que a menudo se encuentra la comercialización de la cultura negra. Escuchemos a Wiley:KEHINDE WILEY: Al frente de la producción cultural de los Estados Unidos está el hiphop, está la cultura negra. Hiphop es el idioma con el que mucha gente joven en todo el mundo se autodefine o se autodescubre, o prueba diferentes maneras de ser. La cultura negra estadounidense tiene una especie de sabor, una especie de insolencia, una especie de ritmo que conocemos como hiphop, y es algo que ha encontrado su lugar en mi pintura.El hiphop ha dejado también una huella que se define por una especie de perversión de la verdad. Es una rúbrica mediante la cual la gente ha depositado sus ideas acerca de lo que significa ser negro, lo que significa ser varón, lo que significa ser fuerte.ABRAM JACKSON: Para definir la pose de esta figura, Wiley se basó en una pieza del siglo XIX, una escultura francesa de una mujer mordida por una serpiente.CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: El artista cambia el género de la figura para que se convierta en el retrato de este hermoso hombre negro. Y se remonta a su preocupación con la imagen de la masculinidad negra dentro de la cultura occidental, donde verdaderamente desafía una noción de masculinidad que no permite ningún espacio para la vulnerabilidad. Cuando los sujetos son pintados a una escala de valla publicitaria y los vemos por arriba de nosotros, realmente imponentes, es cuando la idea de su sufrimiento, su dolor, su padecer o su muerte automáticamente se proyectan hacia un contexto más amplio.ABRAM JACKSON: A propósito, tal vez note que los títulos de muchas de las obras de arte comienzan con el nombre de la pieza ―por ejemplo, esta es Mujer mordida por una serpiente, en francés― después aparece otro nombre entre paréntesis: ese es el nombre de la persona que posó para Wiley para esa pintura o escultura en particular. Aquí, Mamadou Gueye es quien posó para esta y otras obras de arte. Wiley pasa mucho tiempo en África Occidental, por lo que muchos de sus modelos para las obras de esta exposición, como Gueye, son senegaleses.Cuando termine de visitar este espacio, pase por la entrada a su izquierda. Nuestra próxima parada estará frente al cuadro más grande de la sala, aquel que muestra a una joven acostada sobre un césped verde y hojas.
ABRAM JACKSON: Con la mirada baja, su brazo sobre su pierna, este joven personifica la fuerza tranquila, dominio de sí mismo.La obra de Wiley está parcialmente inspirada en una escultura romana de 2000 años de antigüedad. El gálata moribundo representa a un oponente de Átalo I de Pérgamo que luce derrotado y en una pose similar a la obra original, mostrando compostura ante la muerte. El artista reimagina aquella escultura en la forma de un joven negro y deja a nuestra imaginación el momento que este joven está confrontando, con coraje y fortaleza.Esta escultura tiene gran resonancia para la reverenda Wanda Johnson. Oscar Grant, su hijo, fue asesinado en 2009 por un oficial de la policía del sistema de transporte rápido BART, en la estación de Fruitvale en Oakland.WANDA JOHNSON: Pienso en los amigos de Oscar esa noche en la plataforma y los veo siendo maltratados por la policía, veo la fortaleza de mi hijo. Veo cómo él presenció la injusticia y cómo defendió a sus amigos, sin saber que sería la última vez que lo haría. Y, aun así, estaba dispuesto a morir por ellos, por defender lo que era correcto.ABRAM JACKSON: Todas las obras que veremos hoy fueron creadas el año pasado, más o menos. Son una respuesta al asesinato de George Floyd y a la violencia perpetrada en contra de tantos jóvenes de raza negra y que es sancionada por el Estado en este país. Escuchemos al artista:KEHINDE WILEY: Tiene resonancia aquí porque este es nuestro presente. Necesitamos llegar a asimilar por qué tanta gente está siendo asesinada en nuestras calles, necesitamos llegar a asimilar el poder del Estado.Cada una de estas pérdidas es tratada y manejada por los familiares y seres queridos, y con suerte continuarán haciéndolo, resaltando la importancia de cada una de estas personas. Con mi trabajo pretendo poder crear no solo una declaración política, sino una declaración que sea espiritual, mucho más personal y poética, que hable de la humanidad de todos nosotros; que hable de los lazos que existen entre aquellas grandes obras históricas monumentales europeas y algunos de aquellos grandes, históricos y monumentales, muchachos y muchachas negros y morenos que están a nuestro alrededor todos los días. El deseo de ser visto, el deseo de estar vivo, de eso trata esta obra.ABRAM JACKSON: Cuando termine de visitar esta sala, por favor, pase por la primera entrada a la derecha. Verá un cuadro muy grande de un hombre con camisa amarilla. Esa será nuestra próxima parada.
KEHINDE WILEY: Este trabajo surge como respuesta directa al asesinato de George Floyd. Durante aquel tiempo, muchos de nosotros tuvimos la oportunidad de reflexionar al respecto y de lamentar esa muerte..Una arqueología del silencio es una arqueología de historias no contadas y de vidas desperdiciadas. Es una historia de los Estados Unidos que trata sobre la brutalidad y la borradura o negación. Mi trabajo trata de devolverle vida a ese momento borrado y, mediante esa arqueología, crear algo que tal vez está vivo.TOM CAMPBELL: Acaba de escuchar al artista Kehinde Wiley. Yo soy Tom Campbell, director de los Museos de Bellas Artes de San Francisco.Esta exposición se estrenó en Venecia, Italia, la primavera pasada. Es un gran honor presentarla por primera vez en los Estados Unidos, donde los temas que plantea son de actualidad y suma importancia.ABRAM JACKSON: Y yo soy Abram Jackson, director de interpretación de los Museos. Mi función es apoyar a estas instituciones en el relato de historias más inclusivas para un público más amplio. Tengo mucho gusto de acompañarle hoy en este recorrido por la exposición.Desde hace muchos años, Kehinde Wiley se ha adentrado en la historia del arte occidental, como fuente de inspiración. La voltea al derecho y al revés y de arriba abajo, sacudiendo sus convenciones y simbolismos, cuestionando su propósito. Forja sus elementos en algo nuevo, resplandeciente y completamente suyo.KEHINDE WILEY: Lo que trato de hacer, en última instancia, es jugar con el lenguaje del poder: ¿Quién merece estar en las paredes de un museo? Todo es político. El arte es un medio a través del cual puedes resaltar cosas en el mundo.ABRAM JACKSON: Comencemos. Nuestra próxima parada es ante la escultura de bronce de un joven con capucha, titulada Gálata moribundo. La encontrará justo en la primera sala.
As a material element in the origin story of Black Americans, the ocean, and water more broadly, holds psychic and spiritual dimensions of both suffering and survival. Settle and sink in with artist and writer Angela Hennessy for a restorative meditation returning to the edge of the sea.Angela Hennessy is an Oakland-based artist and survivor of gun violence. Tending to themes of loss and liberation, her work draws upon mourning practices that activate hair as a material exchanged between the living and the dead. She has received awards from the Fleishhacker Foundation, San Francisco Artadia, and the Joan Mitchell Foundation. Hennessy is an associate professor at California College of the Arts, where she teaches courses on visual and cultural narratives of death in contemporary art.
TranscriptKEHINDE WILEY: This body of work comes as a direct response to the murder of George Floyd. During that time, so many of us had an opportunity to grieve, to reflect. An Archeology of Silence is an archeology of untold stories and lives wasted. It's an American story about brutality and about erasure. My job is to breathe life back into that erased moment. And through that archeology, create something that's perhaps living.TOM CAMPBELL: That was artist Kehinde Wiley. I’m Tom Campbell, Director of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco. This exhibition was premiered in Venice, Italy, last spring. It’s an absolute honor to be able to bring it for the first time to the United States, where the issues it raises are so timely and important. ABRAM JACKSON: And I’m Abram Jackson, the Museums’ Director of Interpretation. My role is to support the museums in telling the most inclusive stories to the broadest audiences. I’m excited to accompany you on our tour of the exhibition today. We’ll be joined by the artist himself, and two other wonderful contributors who have had cause to think deeply about the questions he brings up in his work. Let’s get started. Our next stop will be a bronze sculpture of a young man in a hoodie titled “Dying Gaul” – you’ll find it right inside the first gallery.
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: Gazing downward, his arm braced on his leg, this young man embodies quiet strength. Self-possession. It’s partly inspired by a 2000-year-old Roman sculpture. “The Dying Gaul” portrays a fallen opponent of Attalus I of Pergamon in a similar pose, showing composure in the face of death. Wiley re-envisions that sculpture in the form of a young Black man, leaving us to imagine what moment he may be confronting, with courage and fortitude. This sculpture resonates strongly with the Reverend Wanda Johnson. Her son Oscar Grant was killed by a BART police officer, at Fruitvale Station in Oakland, in 2009. WANDA JOHNSON: I think about Oscar's friends the night when he was on the platform, and then seeing his friends get abused by the police officer, I seen his strength. And how he seen the injustice. And he stood up, not knowing that that would be his last time to stand up. But yet willing to die for his friends, because of standing up for what was right. ABRAM JACKSON: All the art we’ll see today was made in the last year or so. It’s a response to the murder of George Floyd, and to the state-sanctioned violence directed at so many other Black people in this country. Here’s the artist:KEHINDE WILEY: It resonates here because this is our present. We need to be able to come to terms with so many people being slain in our streets - we have to come to terms with state power.Each one of these losses is handled and dealt with by families and by loved ones who hopefully will carry the individual significance of those people on. But the job of my work is to be able, not to just create a political statement, but to create a much more personal, poetic, spiritual one, that talks about the humanity of all of us, that talks about the ties between those great historical, monumental European works, and some of those great historical, monumental, young Black and Brown kids who surround us every day. It's the desire to be seen, the desire to be alive, that the work is about.ABRAM JACKSON: Our next audio stop is the oval painting nearby, of a man in a red shirt and white cap.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “Dying Gaul, After a Roman sculpture of the 1st Century,” 2021. Bronze, 21 1/16 x 18 7/8 x 47 1/16 in., 156.53 lb. (53.5 x 48 x 119.5 cm, 71 kg), base: 35 7/16 x 27 9/16 x 55 1/8 in. (90 x 70 x 140 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: For many years now, Kehinde Wiley has been diving into western art history for inspiration. He turns it inside out and upside down, shaking out its conventions and symbolism, questioning its purpose. And he forges its elements into something new, resplendent, and completely his own. This figure’s pose echoes an 18th century French painting of a Roman god of sleep. Here’s curator Claudia Schmuckli:CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: So you have this idea of the fallen angel which is asleep, that’s somewhere between, I guess, the earthly and the heavenly. And if you think about Wiley's very purposeful rendition of his models to be looked at as both sanctified victims and survivors of systemic violence against Black people, the way that they're rendered aims at transcending that vulnerability, transcending the state in which they are depicted, and to elevate them into a heavenly state, or aura of sacredness that lies somewhere between life and death, heaven and earth. KEHINDE WILEY: What I'm trying to do ultimately is to play with the language of power: who deserves to be on the walls of a museum? Everything is political. Art is a means through which you can point to things in the world. ABRAM JACKSON: When you’re done in this gallery, please head out through the first doorway on the right. You’ll see a very large painting of a man in a yellow shirt – that’s our next stop.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), ”Sleep,” 2022. Oil on canvas, 69 15/16 x 107 15/16 in. (177.7 x 274.2 cm), Framed: 70 7/8 x 118 7/8 x 3 15/16 in. (180 x 302 x 10 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni.
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: A tender, realistic portrayal of a Roman Christian Martyr dead in her tomb was Wiley’s starting point for this figure. The artist has long been interested in experimenting with backgrounds – here, he’s decided to fill it with poppies. KEHINDE WILEY: Historically, backgrounds have been: powerful man sitting on his land - everything's a possession. It's, the animals are my possession, the house is my possession. I decided to fill it with this decorative floral. It's the emptying out of all of that anxiety surrounding possession, and to fill it with the simple act of growing itself. ABRAM JACKSON: The poppies’ vivid colors complement the warm highlights on the figure’s skin. Wiley, with Black American roots from his mother, and Nigerian roots from his father, has spent time in West Africa recently, and many of his models for works in this show are from Senegal. KEHINDE WILEY: Africa's had a huge impact on my work because I go to the marketplaces and I see fabrics that are inspiring, I see colors that are inspiring, histories and botanicals that don't exist in my work before. I also see different types of Blackness that exist there. I learned how to paint skin by using whiteness as the model through which the world is seen. There is no real tradition of painting Black skin in western easel painting and so you have to make that up yourself - that's creating a vocabulary of Blackness, a playbook of Blackness.One of the cool things about my shows is that you start to see young Black and Brown kids showing up in the museums, as though that institution were there for them. And it should be. ABRAM JACKSON: Once you’re finished in this space, go back through the previous gallery. As you pass the huge painting of the man in a yellow shirt, turn right. Our next stop is a painting of a woman in a red top, seated on an orange cloth. Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “The Virgin Martyr Cecelia (Ndey Buri),” 2022. Oil on canvas, 77 3/8 x 143 3/4 in. (196.6 x 365.2 cm), Framed: 88 7/16 x 154 13/16 x 3 15/16 in. (224.6 x 393.2 x 10 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: The blue and white flowers in the lower right corner of this painting clue us in to its inspiration. Wiley pulled this figure’s pose from a painting of a story from classical mythology. It’s by the 18th century Italian artist, Tiepolo. It portrays the death of Hyacinth, a young mortal transformed into flowers after his death by the god Apollo, who loved him. Tiepolo’s painting is full of other details that Wiley chose to leave out – classical archways and statues, cherubs and gods. His interrogation of the forms, symbolism and significance of paintings by his artistic heroes goes right back to his childhood in Los Angeles. KEHINDE WILEY: I first discovered Old Master painting when going to the Huntington Library and Gardens in Los Angeles. Those old collections had some amazing portraits of landed gentry, aristocrats, these powdered wigs and lapdogs and pearls - all of these signifiers of power that seemed so distant. But at the same time, the technical mastery of it was so good that it drew me in. So from a very early age, I had this kind of fascination with the bombastic nature of the portraits, the unabashed, defiant sense of resplendence that they were having. They were just so proud and so bold, and so in your face, all the blinging. It really reminded me of some of the attitudes that early Hip Hop was criticized for having - the garish nature, the bombastic chest beating. What I love about being an artist is you're able to colonize that space. You're able to enter that door and decide to rearrange the furniture. What I wanted to do was to take the language of classic Western European easel painting and to embody that language, to be able to position people who look like me within that field of power. ABRAM JACKSON: Our next audio stop is at the bronze sculpture of a young man kneeling, his head in his hands.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “The Death of Hyacinth (Ndey Buri Mboup),” 2022. Oil on canvas, 93 9/16 x 144 3/16 in. (237.7 x 366.2 cm), Framed: 104 5/8 x 155 3/16 x 3 15/16 in. (265.7 x 394.2 x 10 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
TranscriptWANDA JOHNSON: My name is Wanda Johnson. I'm the mother of Oscar Grant that was killed January 1st, 2009, at the Fruitvale BART Station in Oakland, California.ABRAM JACKSON: Oscar Grant was shot in the back and killed by a BART police officer that night. This sculpture, titled “Youth Mourning”, is especially resonant for his mother. WANDA JOHNSON: When he was killed, this “Youth Mourning” was his friends. Mourning for the loss of a loved one. Mourning for the loss of a friend, mourning for the loss of a family member. Never to go back, to be able to call this person and talk to this person. Never to go back, to be able to joke and laugh and eat with this person. But now, having to face being alone. They laid on the platform and at the hospital, mourning, all of us mourning, but having the question of why? “Youth Mourning” seems to read: I should have peace. I should be able to live in freedom, not have to cover up who I am, being identified and targeted because of my appearance. I shouldn't have to have a hoodie on or a hat on, so that you can't see the real me.I begin to think about how so many of our people have had so much strength and so much zeal and just different gifts and talents and abilities, but yet lose their lives senselessly. And now all those gifts, their talents, their bravery, is buried in the ground along with them. Like this “Youth Mourning”, many mornings, many evenings, this was me. Balling up, praying unto God. Why did it have to happen? And 13, 14 years later, that question still resonates - why did you have to pull out your gun and shoot him when it wasn't necessary? ABRAM JACKSON: When you’re done in this space, move through to the last, momentous room in the exhibition. I’ll meet you there to talk about the figure on horseback. Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “Youth Mourning (El Hadji Malick Gueye),” After George Clausen, 1916, 2021. Bronze, 14 3/16 x 16 9/16 x 31 7/8 in., 136.69 lb. (36 x 42 x 81 cm, 62 kg), base: 35 7/16 x 25 9/16 x 40 3/8 in. (90 x 65 x 102.5 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: “An Archaeology of Silence”. Kehinde Wiley gave this title both to this monumental sculpture – and to the exhibition itself. There’s so much to think about here. Find space nearby where you’ll be comfortable for a few minutes, while we hear from the artist and Hodari Davis. KEHINDE WILEY: The point is to use the language of the monumental to say that we are in deep crisis. You, the viewer, have to come to terms with regards to how we see the Black body. Here, it's devoid of life, yet the horse is still rearing, it's still moving.HODARI DAVIS: It's almost like, which represents you? Are you this horse of Empire that we've seen so many times, marching over so many cities, all over the world? Or this body on the back of this horse? So many of us have been educated to see the horse. To pledge allegiance to that horse, to be proud of the accomplishments of that horse. And to actually not see this body on the back of that, actually not see it at all. ABRAM JACKSON: The statues of Civil War generals on horseback in Richmond, Virginia, have been taken down, following protests after the murder of George Floyd in 2020. But Wiley’s experience of them a few years earlier, caused him to think deeply about artworks that can hold so much power. KEHINDE WILEY: They were produced oftentimes in the 1920s, 1930s, as a means of terrorizing the Black population of the South. I wanted to recreate that language - I wanted to breathe it in, and to exhale something differently. Archeology is the act of pulling the past into the present. And I think that so much of what happened in the aftermath of the brutal murder of George Floyd has to do with us recognizing his humanity, the humanity of so many of us who happen to look like him, generations of people who've suffered under chattel slavery, and the presence of Empire. Is it all about destruction? – No. It's certainly about human capacity to heal and to rebuild. It's about a resilience that has been our saving point for generations. My work is about creating strategies of shining. Strategies of mining terrible histories, and creating new fields of providence.HODARI DAVIS: So, what happens when people encounter this? I know that art can make hard conversations really easy and easy conversations really difficult. That's art, right? Just it being presented to the world changes what we think about, changes how we think, changes the conversations that we would have, or wouldn't be having, if we weren't so provoked. That's the power of art. ABRAM JACKSON: This is the last room in the exhibition, and the end of the audio tour. But it’s by no means the end of the conversation. There are several additional resources to help make sense of this powerful exhibition, including a critical reflection space in the Piazzoni Murals Room. It’s downstairs on the first floor, right outside of Wilsey Court. There is also a short film about Kehinde Wiley’s journey and artistic process that can be accessed on the exhibition webpage. We would like to thank all of our interviewees: the Reverend Wanda Johnson of the Oscar Grant Foundation, Hodari Davis of Edutainment for Equity, Curator Claudia Schmuckli, and the of course, the artist himself. The audio tour is underwritten by Google.org, enabling all visitors to access it for free. The audio tour was narrated by me, Abram Jackson. It was written and produced by Frances Homan Jue and sound design is by Dennis Hysom. Thank you for listening.Image: Kehinde Wiley, “An Archeology of Silence” (detail), 2021. Bronze, Overall, approximate: 161 7/16 x 59 1/16 x 200 13/16 in., 2 Ton 1,363.79 lb. (410 x 150 x 510 cm, 2,433 kg), Footprint: 48 13/16 x 135 7/16 in. (124 x 344 cm), Base: 11 13/16 x 88 3/16 x 174 13/16 in. (30 x 224 x 444 cm), Horse body: 1 Ton 339.08 lb. (1,061 kg), Horse legs: 1 Ton 120.83 lb. (962 kg), Figure: 903.89 lb. (410 kg). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
ABRAM JACKSON: A 19th century French sculpture of a young woman from mythology, her long hair spreading across the waves that drowned her as she sailed to meet her future husband. That’s the melancholy origin point of this painting. Wiley posed his model in the same way and gave the painting the same title – “Young Tarentine”. But instead of waves, he surrounds this figure with a setting that’s solid, earthly, and incredibly beautiful. Here’s Hodari Davis, Oakland-based Chief Innovation Officer of Edutainment for Equity: HODARI DAVIS: You're seeing a body that's at rest, but you're seeing this bright life all around this body. it's somewhat of a paradox. You can't tell the difference between a body that's dead or a body that's at rest. And either way you're looking at it, it's uncomfortable, right? But why would a body at rest be uncomfortable? KEHINDE WILEY: What I'm trying to do is to unearth a full picture of what it means to be laid bare, to be laid prone. The paintings are of people who aren't standing erect, who aren't domineering in monumental space, but there's a kind of elegy surrounding them, there's a sadness that surrounds them. But strangely, there's also kind of growth that's going on in the picture plane. There’s a desire for me to create paintings and sculptures that cradle the subject, that recognize that they’re vulnerable. They are designed to take up space in the world, to demand presence, but they're also begging that you take them seriously as individuals. I think that's one of the reasons why I wanted to stick so heavily onto the small details of each subject in my work, to be able to look at their nails, their hairstyles, the brands that they wear, sort of really filling the lungs of the individual rather than just painting a two-dimensional picture of a moment or a political crisis.ABRAM JACKSON: Our next audio stop is the oval painting of a man clasping his hands to his chest.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “Young Tarentine II (Ndeye Fatou Mbaye),” 2022. Oil on canvas, 131 7/8 x 300 in. (335 x 762 cm), Framed: 143 5/16 x 311 x 3 15/16 in. (364 x 790 x 10 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni.
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: “Young Tarentine”. That’s the title of this sculpture – and of the billboard-size painting of a woman lying among yellow leaves that we saw earlier. You can see it all the way down at the end of the previous gallery, right from where we’re standing. Wiley’s source for both pieces was a 19th century sculpture of a woman. But as so often, he takes that theme and pose and runs with it, trying it out with different materials – and genders. CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: Again, playing with the fluidity of gender, that informs a lot of how he thinks of gender construction throughout the work.ABRAM JACKSON: Both Wiley’s paintings and his sculptures contain new life, as well as sorrow. KEHINDE WILEY: You'll see the sculptures having these tendrils, these vines, slowly continuing the act of living. There's a resistance in it, a recognition of the slaughter and the terrible history, but also an insistence upon being.ABRAM JACKSON: The original 19th century Tarentine sculpture was an elegy to a young woman who died too soon. Wiley’s Tarentine painting and sculpture convey a similar feeling – although of course there is a more dire cause of grief that we can imagine happening to these contemporary figures. Hodari Davis: HODARI DAVIS: There is a dignity and sort of an honor in being remembered, in being turned into an icon. But then there's an irony to that, relative to what's happened and what's happening in San Francisco. I can't imagine anybody riding a BART to get to the de Young, and not having to walk past bodies of people who are laid in ways that are similar to what they're gonna see in the art. And we're reminded, whether it's Tyre Nichols or George Floyd or so many others, we're reminded. ABRAM JACKSON: The oval-shaped painting of a woman nearby is our next stop.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “The Young Tarentine (Mamadou Gueye), After Alexandre Schoenewerk,” 1871, 2021. Bronze, 37 x 61 13/16 x 170 7/8 in., 1,752.66 lb. (94 x 157 x 434 cm, 795 kg), base: 5 1/8 x 75 3/16 x 185 7/16 in. (13 x 191 x 471 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: The scale of this painting is almost overwhelming. Billboard-like. And purposely so. Enormous paintings traditionally featured rulers, battles – images that articulate power. And enormous billboards are where you often find the commercialization of Black culture. Here’s Wiley: KEHINDE WILEY: At the leading edge of American cultural output is Hip Hop, is Black culture. Hip Hop is the idiom through which so many young people throughout the world define themselves,s or discover themselves, or try on different ways of being. Black American culture has a kind of flavor, kind of sass, a kind of groove that we know to be Hip Hop, and it's something that's found its way into my painting. Hip Hop also has left a trace that's defined by a kind of perversion of the truth. It's a rubric through which people have sort of deposited their ideas about what it means to be Black, what it means to be male, what it means to be powerful. ABRAM JACKSON: Wiley based this figure’s pose on a 19th century French sculpture of a woman bitten by a snake. CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: He changes the gender of the figure to be the portrait of this beautiful Black man. And it goes back to his concern with the image of Black masculinity in Western culture, where he really challenges a notion of masculinity that doesn't allow any room for vulnerability. When the models are rendered on the scale of billboards, and we look at them hovering above us, really towering over us, then the idea of their suffering or their pain, or their grief, or their death is automatically catapulted into a much broader context. ABRAM JACKSON: By the way, you may notice that many of the artworks’ titles start with the title of the piece – here, it’s “Woman bitten by a serpent”, in French – then there is another name in parentheses afterwards. That’s the name of Wiley’s model for that particular painting or sculpture. Here, it is Mamadou Gueye, who posed for this artwork, and several others. Wiley spends a lot of time in West Africa, and many of his models for the works in this show, like Gueye, are Senegalese. When you’re done in this space, go through the doorway to your left. Our next stop will be at the largest painting in the gallery – showing a young woman lying on green grass and leaves.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “Femme Piquée par un Serpent (Mamadou Gueye),” 2022. Oil on canvas, 131 7/8 x 300 in. (335 x 762 cm), Framed: 143 5/16 x 311 x 3 15/16 in. (364 x 790 x 10 cm). Fondation Louis Vuitton, Paris. © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni.
TranscriptKEHINDE WILEY: The birth of the show starts as the world shuts down. As we see George Floyd slain in the streets of America, I get to work, I start thinking not only about this explosive moment that triggers the whole world into thinking about Black bodies in a different way, but I start thinking about imaging of bodies slain, historically. I start digging into religious pictures of the fallen Christ.ABRAM JACKSON: The form of this sculpture was inspired by a sixteenth century painting by Hans Holbein, that Wiley first saw around fifteen years ago. The painting shows a claustrophobic view of the dead Christ – as if we’re looking into his tomb from the side. Christ’s body is both utterly ordinary, and, because we know who it is, sacred, at the same time. Wiley was blown away by that image, and gives this bronze figure a similar sense both of the everyday, and the heroic. KEHINDE WILEY: There's a tradition around the celebration of a life that happens in religious painting, that needs to be retold. There's so many opportunities now to talk about lost potential as a means to create a scaffolding for a better future. ABRAM JACKSON: When you’re ready to move on from this gallery, go through the doorway to your left. Our next audio stop will be the bronze sculpture of a man, in the center of the room.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb (Babacar Mané),” 2021. Bronze and wooden frame with gold letters, 17 11/16 x 38 3/16 x 103 1/8 in., 623.9 lb. (45 x 97 x 262 cm, 283 kg). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
TranscriptABRAM JACKSON: The powerful use of light here draws our attention to this man’s lowered eyelids and clasped hands, making us feel we’re in the presence of intense suffering, or prayer. CLAUDIA SCHMUCKLI: Wiley employs a piercing brightness that bathes the body in aura of sacredness, and it echoes the treatment of the divine in European painting, which has its origins in the veneration of the body of Christ.KEHINDE WILEY: There's an important part of religious depictions of ecstasy in relationship to human suffering. So much of this is pictured through light, in a way that almost feels erotic - the sense in which the body is prone and flooded fully with this kind of divinity, this rapturous presence. ABRAM JACKSON: Wiley looked to another kind of Christian imagery for this figure’s pose – a sculpture of a Roman boy named Tarcisius, who was killed for his faith. Both the original sculpture and this painting work to create emotion and reverence in the viewer. The parallels with the oppression of young Black men in this country are inescapable. KEHINDE WILEY: I think that is, at its core, the central metaphor of this work: this conflict between the humanity of this subject and the brutal fact of human nature. This desire to be seen as present and fully formed, but also having been stricken down and now depicted as lost potential, as evidence of the sacred, as evidence of something beautiful that could have been. ABRAM JACKSON: Our next audio stop is the bronze sculpture to your left – of a man lying in a wooden case.Image: Kehinde Wiley (American, born 1977), “Christian Martyr Tarcisius (El Hadji Malick Gueye),” 2022. Oil on canvas, 72 5/8 x 107 3/4 in. (184.5 x 273.7 cm), Framed: 83 11/16 x 118 3/4 x 3 15/16 in. (212.5 x 301.7 x 10 cm). © Kehinde Wiley. Courtesy of Galerie Templon, Paris. Photo: Ugo Carmeni
Niña De Los Peines (Sevilla, 1890–1969) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Buleria No. 2", "Farruca", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.4Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Niña De Los Peines (Sevilla, 1890–1969) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Buleria No. 2", "Farruca", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.4Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Niña De Los Peines (Sevilla, 1890–1969) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Farruca", "Tarantas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.12Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Niña De Los Peines (Sevilla, 1890–1969) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Farruca", "Tarantas", 1901–1916Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.12
Niña de los Peines (Sevilla, 1890–1969)Flamenco Record: "Seguidillas Gitanas", "Sevillanas No. 3", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.6Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juan Breva (Málaga, 1844–1918) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Fandanguillos", "Verdiales", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.3Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juan Breva (Málaga, 1844–1918) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Fandanguillos", "Verdiales", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.3Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juan Breva (Málaga, 1844–1918) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Soleares", "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.9Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juan Breva (Málaga, 1844–1918) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Soleares", "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.9Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Fernando El Herrero (Sevilla, 1877–1941, Madrid) - primary Victor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Fandanguillo", "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.10Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Fernando El Herrero (Sevilla, 1877–1941, Madrid) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Fandanguillo", "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.10Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Niño De Medina (Cádiz, 1875–1939, Sevilla) - primaryFernando El Herrero (Sevilla, 1877–1941, Madrid) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Seguidillas Gitanas", "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.11
Niño De Medina (Cádiz, 1875–1939, Sevilla) - primaryFernando El Herrero (Sevilla, 1877–1941, Madrid) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Seguidillas Gitanas", "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.11
Niño De Medina (Cádiz, 1875–1939, Sevilla) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.2Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Niño De Medina (Cádiz, 1875–1939, Sevilla) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Malagueñas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.2Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Tomas Pavón (Sevilla, 1893–1952) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Garrotin", "Sevillanas", 1901–1916Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.8
Tomas Pavón (Sevilla, 1893–1952) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Garrotin", "Sevillanas", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.8Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juanito Pardo (Zaragoza, 1884–1944, Buenos Aires) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - primaryFlamenco Record: "Golondrina, Teruel, y Tristeza", "Jota que en Fuentes cantan los bovachos", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.7Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juanito Pardo (Zaragoza, 1884–1944, Buenos Aires) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - primaryFlamenco Record: "Golondrina, Teruel, y Tristeza", "Jota que en Fuentes cantan los bovachos", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.7Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juanito Pardo (Zaragoza, 1884–1944, Buenos Aires) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Zaragozanas Puras No. 1", "Zaragozanas Netas", early 20th centuryGift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.13Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Juanito Pardo (Zaragoza, 1884–1944, Buenos Aires) - primaryVictor Talking Machine Company (active Camden, New Jersey, 1901–1929) - publisherFlamenco Record: "Zaragozanas Puras No. 1", "Zaragozanas Netas", early 20th centuryGift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.13Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
Niña de los Peines (Sevilla, 1890–1969)Flamenco Record: "Seguidillas Gitanas", "Sevillanas No. 3", 1901–1916Gift from the American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) to Isabella Stewart Gardner, about 1916. U11s7.6Courtesy of Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston.
The Live From the Legion's “Holiday 2021” season features beloved classical tunes played from the museum’s Spreckels Organ. Celebrate the end of the year and enjoy the sounds of holiday classical music with principal organist Jonathan Dimmock!
The Live From the Legion's “Holiday 2021” season features beloved classical tunes played from the museum’s Spreckels Organ. Celebrate the end of the year and enjoy the sounds of holiday classical music with principal organist Jonathan Dimmock!
The Live From the Legion's “Holiday 2021” season features beloved classical tunes played from the museum’s Spreckels Organ. Celebrate the end of the year and enjoy the sounds of holiday classical music with principal organist Jonathan Dimmock!
The Live From the Legion's “Holiday 2021” season features beloved classical tunes played from the museum’s Spreckels Organ. Celebrate the end of the year and enjoy the sounds of holiday classical music with principal organist Jonathan Dimmock!
Nature has always been an artist’s greatest muse, and when combined with human love, as in the High Middle German poem “Unter der linden grüne” (“Under the Linden Green,” ca. 1200), we have perfection. The poem was paired with an old French melody and became quite popular during the Renaissance period. Jan Both’s Italian "Landscape with Horsemen" (17th century) focuses more on the tree than the horsemen. Perhaps both artists were observing that all of life exists within the context of trees and nature
Artwork: Jan Both Italian Landscape with Horsemen, 17th century Oil on canvas, 381 3/16 x 38 1/16 in. (968.2 x 96.7 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Memorial gift from Dr. T. Edward and Tullah Hanley, Bradford, Pennsylvania, 69.30.216 Photograph courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Composition: Jan P. Sweelinck (1562 - 1621), Onder een linde groen (variations)
Two giants of 19th-century Paris, Auguste Rodin and César Franck created masterworks of extensive range. Franck’s "Chorale in A Minor", his final composition, is the culmination of his musical work, simultaneously new and old, explosive with virtuosity, heartbreakingly beautiful with melodic sophistication. The monumental Rodin bronzes "The Thinker" (1904) and "The Three Shades" (1898) could be categorized the same way.
Artwork: Auguste Rodin The Thinker, 1904 Cast bronze, 72 x 38 x 54 in. (182.9 x 96.5 x 137.2 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Gift of Alma de Bretteville Spreckels, 1924.18.1 Photograph courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Composition: César Franck, "Chorale in A Minor" (1890)
The English countryside calls to mind spaciousness and freedom. English composers have loved this aspect of their native land, perhaps none more than Ralph Vaughan Williams. His depiction of a lark ascending, fluttering, dipping, and gliding immediately conjures images of soaring liberty. Thomas Gainsborough’s painting, "Landscape with Country Carts", nearly 150 years earlier, seems to foreshadow what musicians would only later discover: the English countryside is evocative and beautiful.
Artwork: Thomas Gainsborough Landscape with Country Carts, ca. 1784–1785 Oil on canvas, 50 3/8 x 40 3/8 in. (128 x 102.6 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Roscoe and Margaret Oakes Collection, 75.2.8 Photograph courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Composition: Ralph Vaughan Williams, "The Lark Ascending" (1914) Arrangement by Jonathan Dimmock
English pageantry has a special place in art history, at once formal but compelling, depicting the jubilant side of military prowess. John Stanley’s wonderful "Trumpet Voluntary" was written for a solo organ demonstrating the trumpet stop. “Voluntaries” were meant to be played before and at the conclusion of church services, so called because organists were not actually paid to play outside of the services themselves. The piece matches the contemporaneous, larger-than-life painting of William Beechey’s "Master James Hatch" (1796) as he models noble military attire. Although Hatch was far too young to serve, his station groomed him for this appearance.
Artwork: William Beechey Master James Hatch, 1796 Oil on canvas, 73 x 52 1/2 in. (185.4 x 133.4 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Museum purchase by exchange, Mildred Anna Williams Collection, 1942.10 Photograph courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Composition: John Stanley, "Trumpet Tune" (ca. 1770)
Aelst’s painting "Flowers in a Silver Vase" (16th century), with its decaying tulip blossom in the center, is a testament to the vast importance of flowers, and tulips in particular, to the economy of the Netherlands at this time in history. Next to the tulip is a yellow European chrysanthemum. Composer Joseph Bonnet’s "Lied des Chrysanthèmes" gives a musical illustration of the serene simplicity of flowers. The sweetness and quietness of the music mimics the pondering of a precious, elegant flower in full bloom.
Artwork: Willem van Aelst Flowers in a Silver Vase, 1663 Oil on canvas, 26 5/8 x 21 1/2 in. (67.6 x 54.6 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Hermann Schuelein, 51.21 Photograph courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Composition: Joseph Bonnet, "Lied des Chrysanthèmes" (1908)
Composition: Melchior Schildt: Paduana Lachrymae (ca. 1725)
Artwork: Ambrosius Benson (Southern Netherlandish, ca. 1495–before 1550) The Lamentation, 16th century Oil on panel 25 5/8 x 31 in. (65.1 x 78.7 cm) Museum purchase, Mildred Anna Williams Collection 1956.90
Composition: Olivier Messiaen: Apparition de l'Église Éternelle (1932)
Artwork: Arnold Genthe (American, 1869–1942) Untitled (Two men pose while looking at this general scene of ruin after the earthquake and fire), 1906 Photograph, cellulose nitrate negative 3 1/4 x 5 1/2 in. (8.3 x 14 cm) irreg. Museum purchase, James D. Phelan Bequest Fund 1943.407.63
Composition: Léon Boëllmann: Prière à Notre-Dame (1895)
Artwork: William-Adolphe Bouguereau (French, 1825–1905) The Broken Pitcher, 1891 Oil on canvas 53 x 33 in. (134.6 x 83.8 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Bequest of M.H. de Young 53162
Composition: Johann Sebastian Bach: Mass in B minor: Agnus Dei (1740)
Artwork: Franz Anton Bustelli (German, b. Switzerland, 1723–1763) House Altar Containing a Scene of the Crucifixion, ca. 1760 Porcelain figures, cabinet of painted and gilded wood 88 9/16 x 40 3/16 x 24 13/16 in. (225 x 102 x 63 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco European Decorative Arts Fund 2013.30
Composition: Johann Sebastian Bach: Fugue in G minor, BWV 542,2 (1720)
Artwork: Peter Paul Rubens (Flemish, 1577–1640) The Tribute Money, ca. 1610–1615 Oil on panel 56 3/4 x 74 3/4 in. (144.1 x 189.9 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Museum purchase, M.H. de Young Art Trust Fund 44.11
Join us for the last episode of Season 3 with multidisciplinary artist Lava Thomas. Drawing from her family’s Southern roots and current historical socio-political events, artist Lava Thomas, centers on ideas that amplify visibility, healing, and empowerment in the face of erasure, trauma, and oppression.
Hear from Angela Hennessy and Tahirah Rasheed, co-founders of the Bay Area artist collective See Black Womxn. Through art and theory, See Black Womxn, are telling their own stories as well as their communities in order to recognize and affirm the beauty, diversity, and complexity of Black Womxn and their aesthetic traditions.
Catherine Wagner is an American conceptual artist whose process involves the investigation of what art critic David Bonetti called "the systems people create, our love of order, our ambition to shape the world, the value we place on knowledge, and the tokens we display to express ourselves."
A pioneer of San Francisco's community art movement, Susan Cervantes, has dedicated the last 57 years to foster community collaboration through murals. Hear from the founder and director of the Precita Eyes Muralists in the Mission District, on the importance of public art as a way to elevate voices and raise visibility.
https://www.precitaeyes.org/
Meet Dana King, classical figurative sculptor and creator of many public monuments of Black Bodies in Bronze. King opens up her studio space and shares how sculptures can provide culturally impactful memories and moments of connection.
Hear from Fredrika Newton and Xavier Buck of the Dr. Huey P. Newton Foundation as they speak about the importance and responsibility of preserving the legacy of the Black Panther Party and its founder Dr. Huey P. Newton. Through love, strength and resilience, Fredrika and Xavier share the significance of correcting false narratives and memorializing the party’s historic contributions.
Meet Jilchristina Vest, artist and organizer of the The Women of The Black Panther Party Mural. Learn more about the West Oakland house which became a public art installation honoring and paying homage to the legacy of over 300 women, encouraging every viewer and visitor to #SayHerName.
Public art transforms landscapes, builds our collective memory, and reveals distinctive characteristics of our city through shared experiences that add meaning to our everyday lives. Across the nation, monuments were toppled in protest to demand a reexamination of the narratives in our country's history, demonstrating how public art can be a reflection of our communal values.
Season 3 of Local Voices engages with critical global conversations of power and representation highlighting Bay Area public spaces and the thoughtful hands redefining them.
Through intimate conversations, we will hear from artists and community leaders who are exploring the ways in which public art sparks dialogue and promotes creative expression as a tool for social change.
Artworks tell multiple stories. Join our museum ambassadors Noelle, Raquel, and Zune as they explore the narratives behind The Crowning of Mirtillo, Birmingham ’63, and the black-figure amphora with lid, from the perspectives of the artists and viewers.
Objects: Birmingham ‘63, Black figure amphora with lid, The Crowning of Mirtillo
How do objects represent wealth, power, and privilege? In this episode, our museum ambassadors Elisabeth, Kaitlin, and Leighanna discuss how objects can become symbols of power and how they influence their communities and followers.
Objects: Saint Francis, Aspiration, Chief’s Chair
Materials used in art can give us clues to the artist’s process, techniques, and ways of thinking. They can also spark our understanding of the artwork. Join our museum ambassadors Elisabeth, Kaitlin, and Leighanna as they discuss how and why various materials are used in three artworks in the Fine Arts Museums’ collections.
Objects: Gift basket, Blood and Meat: Survival for the World, Hot Water Urn
What do you see? What do you feel? Art can make us experience a range of emotions. This is one way that we connect to a work of art. In this episode, join our museum ambassadors Andrea, Ankhilan, and De’Yani as they talk about artworks that bring out strong emotions in viewers.
Objects: Superman, Two Women and a Child
How does visual density affect how you look at an artwork? Join our museum ambassadors Noelle, Raquel, and Zune as they uncover the meaning behind the patterns and embellishments found in Johnny Warangkula Tjupurrula’s Children’s story (water dreaming for two children), Nick Cave’s Soundsuit, and the season sarcophagus.
Objects: Season sarcophagus, Children’s story, Soundsuit
What do your beliefs mean to you? How do objects represent your beliefs? Join our museum ambassadors Andrea, Ankhilan, and De’Yani as they highlight the multiple ways that objects in the Fine Arts Museums’ collections symbolize belief systems from around the world.
Objects: Torso of a God, Hornbill Mask, The Adoration of Magi
The second season of Local Voices features nine Bay Area teens as they reflect and share their own perspectives on objects from the Museums’ permanent collections. Through the themes of Belief, Density, Emotion, Material, Power, and Storytelling, the teens converse with curators, scholars, artists, and community members as well as family and friends to gain new insights and information.
Artwork Credit: Louis XV room (18th cent.) - 1735–1740 Carved oak with gilded ornamentation 365.8 x 762 x 853.4 cm (144 x 300 x 336 in.) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Roscoe and Margaret Oakes Collection 51.2.1 Image courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Artwork Credit: Jean-Léon Gérome The Bath (ca. 1880–1885) Oil on canvas 73.7 x 59.7 cm (29 x 23 1/2 in.); Frame: 95.6 x 82.6 cm (37 5/8 x 32 1/2 in.) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Museum purchase, Mildred Anna Williams Collection 1961.29 Image courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Artwork Credit: Rembrandt Harmensz van Rijn, Dutch, 1606–1669 Joris de Caulerij, 1632 Oil on canvas mounted on panel 40 1/2 x 33 3/16 in. (102.9 x 84.3 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Roscoe and Margaret Oakes Collection 66.31 Image courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Artwork Credit:
Dirck Hals The Merry Company (1626) Oil on panel 16 3/4 x 30 1/2 (42.5 x 77.5 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Edward Carter 1957.160 Image courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Artwork Credit:
John Martin The Assuaging of the Waters (1840) Oil on canvas 56 1/2 x 86 1/4 (143.5 x 219.1 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Museum purchase, Whitney Warren Jr. Bequest Fund in memory of Mrs. Adolph B. Spreckels 1989.73 Image courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Artwork Credit: Paul Bril Landscape with Pan and Syrinx (ca. 1620) Oil on canvas 19 1/8 x 27 3/4 (48.6 x 70.5 cm) Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco Museum purchase, M.H. de Young Memorial Museum 49.11 Image courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco
Rio Yañez presents The Great Tortilla Conspiracy, a tortilla printmaking collective, that began their work at the de Young Museum in 2007 and have been silkscreening Frida's image on tortillas ever since. He shares their unique art process and new developments.
Jean Franco, a local Frida Kahlo look-alike actor, has traveled the world bringing a bit of the beloved artist to every place. We learn about how they were discovered and the journey the likeness to an icon has brought them.
Local actor and comedian Marilet Martinez shares stories of growing up as a Chicana in the Mission District. She also discusses how strong and fearless Latinx women like Frida Kahlo inspired her career.
Astrosagas, local video producer and astrologist, talks about her parent’s journey, love of San Francisco, and Frida Kahlo's influence on art and politics
Linda Gamino, Associate Director of Ensambles Ballet Folklórico de San Francisco, opens up about her story of a tragic accident that affected her life, and the impact of Frida Kahlo in helping her overcome her disability.
Fernando Escaritz, a local sculptor, has created large size installations inspired by his lived experiences and his love for the Mexican culture. He revisits his childhood in Coayacan and the influence that Frida Kahlo’s home, Casa Azul, had in shaping his craft.
Fernando Escaritz, a local sculptor, has created large size installations inspired by his lived experiences and his love for the Mexican culture. He revisits his childhood in Coayacan and the influence that Frida Kahlo’s home, Casa Azul, had in shaping his craft.
Twin Walls Murals Company (Elaine Chu and Marina Perez-Wong) talk about their 20+ year friendship and the influence of Frida Kahlo and other strong local women artists in their own journey as women in the arts.
Rio Yañez (Host of the series) tells the story of how his father, Rene Yañez, fought to open Frida Kahlo's first gallery show on the West Coast, here in San Francisco
Take a tour of 12 pieces from the museum collection that highlight the themes of social media, global exchange, modest fashion, and individual expression.
To listen to the podcast audio tour at the museum, don’t forget to bring your headphones.
How do you define modest fashion? This episode discusses ways to combine stylish dress with varying degrees of body covering.
To listen to the podcast audio tour at the museum, don’t forget to bring your headphones.
What does your outfit say about you? This episode delves into fashion as a platform to express your personal identity.
To listen to the podcast audio tour at the museum, don’t forget to bring your headphones.
Ever wonder where designers find inspiration? This episode shares how cultural traditions and practices influence fashion to create common ground for people of diverse backgrounds.
To listen to the podcast audio tour at the museum, don’t forget to bring your headphones.
How does social media influence your personal style? This episode explores social media as a tool to connect and communicate ideas.
To listen to the podcast audio tour at the museum, don’t forget to bring your headphones.