I GO TO THE HUNTINGTON

Above, a portrait by Ramsey from the Huntington Library in Pasadena. I just visited there and I thought you might like to see what I found. 

I'll start with the exterior, above. This was the house of 19th Century railroad tycoon, Henry Huntington. It's an art museum now. There's a few buildings like this on the estate and collectively they're called The Huntington Library. 

Outside are rambling gardens of different types. This one (above) is clearly patterned after pictures by Fragonard, though you can't get a sense of that from this photo. Wait a sec, let me grab another picture... 

Okay, there! That's (above) the kind of garden it was. And yes, there really are trees like that. 

The centerpiece of the gardens is a small valley containing a Japanese garden. I'm guessing that the gardens are more costly to maintain than the buildings.

Inside the house we get an insight into Huntington's personality by seeing what he chose to collect. Near the door, in a place of honor, is a portrait of James Watt, the inventor of the steam engine.  Good for Huntington! He made his fortune on steam power and he honors the man who made it possible.

The caption on the wall says that Watt's friends thought the likeness was striking, but they remembered him as being much more jovial than he appears here.

Also in a place of honor is this well-known portrait (above) of Samuel Johnson. I'm assuming that Huntington accessed Johnson mainly through Boswell's biography. Imagine that...a rough and tumble railroad guy who found Boswell's book to be useful and inspiring.

Here's (above) Mrs. Huntington. After her husband died she became the richest woman in the world. I was hoping her portrait would convey a haughty attitude,  a "Who let you in here? Did you wipe your feet?"-type expression but no,  she looks like she was a nice person.

The Huntington houses Gainsborough's "The Blue Boy." Gainsborough used to brag that he got his backgrounds from still lifes of broccoli and blankets.

The picture's much parodied in America and the boy's often portrayed as a fop. That's not really fair. The kid looks perfectly manly to me, he's just wearing an outrageous costume that that nobody at the time realized was outrageous. 

 

I wish I could remember whose bust this was. We both have the Fitzgerald nose.

Ouch!

Boy, there sure are a lot of naked people here.

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P.S. I just received a comment from K. Marinov on the 7/30/12 post, CAVES IN THE CLOUDS. Marinov sez:

I was doing a Google image search for "cloud caverns" because I flew through one on March 7, 2008, but was too awestruck to reach for my cell camera (that wouldn't have done it any justice anyway). These paintings are all that I could find.

The cloud cavern I saw was on a flight from Odessa, TX to Houston, TX in the pre-dawn hours. I could see daybreak beginning in the horizon and we started flying through some clouds. A short while later, sun not up yet, we flew into a cloud cavern. I saw pillars, mountains, valleys, ceilings, and plateaus very similar to these images.

It was a dark blue/gray hue since the sun hadn't risen yet. But then, the sun rose...

ORANGE! YELLOW! PINK! RED! I WAS IN HEAVEN! I was just awestruck. I hadn't EVER seen anything like that and I now consider my life complete to have seen such a sight. Thank you for posting these pics!

GWEETINGTH ART LOVERTH! (Part 2)

A day at the art museum with Uncle Eddie! We don't stand on formalities here, let's plunge right in!

Here's (above) Gainsborough's "Blue Boy." Cartoonists love it because it's the ultimate depiction of a sissyfied Lord Fauntleroy-type. The painting wasn't based on the Fauntleroy novel, and the boy in the novel wasn't a sissy, but the public remembers him that way and who am I to dispute it? Anyway, this painting and I have history.

One halloween I went out and bought a Fauntleroy/Blue Boy suit. I raced home with it, chuckling all the way, thinking of all the gags I could play with it. Breathlessly I put it on in the bathroom, carefull not to look in the mirror till the ensemble was complete. At long last I finished adjusting the lace collar, put the hat on, and proudly stared into the mirror, expecting to erupt with laughter.

Well... it was a looooong look and I felt like doing anything but laughing. I struggled to identify the emotion I was feeling. To my surprise it was...no use trying to hide it...violence. I wanted to hit the figure in the mirror. I couldn't figure out why. I wasn't a gay-basher in real life, why the sudden impulse to destroy? Puzzled, I walked into the living room to see what my family thought. I thought I'd get a laugh from at least one of them. Instead they all turned white with horror. My wife finally said in a tembling voice: "Eddie, that suit...it makes me want to...to hit you." That did it. I packed up the suit and retired it.

I'm convinced that what I felt had nothing to do with resentment against gays. Even gays would have wanted to hit the person in the mirror. The suit is simply the most potent lure to violence ever created. It would have turned Ghandi into a bully. It just has bad juju.

Moving along, here's (above) the "Mona Lisa." I have to say that it looks funny to me and I sometimes wonder if that was Leonardo's intention. I thought that seeing it in person might give me an insight but when I stumbled across it in the Louvre it was roped off, covered with glass, heavily guarded and surrounded by the backs of tall tourists. I couldn't see a thing. Ah, well.

Here's (above) the Venus di Milo, beloved by cartoonists everywhere because they're always trying to think of dirty things her arms might be doing. Of course Venus isn't the most revered scupture. That honor belongs to the plaster hood ornament-type figure that you always see on pedestals in the homes of the cartoon rich. I wonder if that scupture ever really existed. It looks a little like a famous black Donatello (or is it Cellini) figure but that's not quite the same.

On this wall (above) we find "Whistler's Mother," another cartoonist favorite. Boy, she keeps a clean home! It always strikes me as funny when people sit with their shoulder against a wall even if it's in a reataurant. I mean the natural thing is to sit with the wall at your back. How odd it is to press yourself against a man-made cliff with all the pictures on one side diminishing in railroad perspective infront of you.

Last but not least, Grant Wood's "American Gothic." You can laugh at this picture but it'll be around when all of us have turned to dust. There's something so primal and funny about it. It's how every adolescent regards his parents, how every writer regards his editors, how every employee regards his boss. If you're a painter, and all you want is to be remembered, then pick a primal emotion and depict the ultimate distillation of it.