When cruds at the top are pretty awful, and they are worst of the worst right now, art helps.
Art is solace.
Architecture was what I really first wanted to do. I still was in elementary school when one of the neighbor girls a few houses away and I made entire homes out of paper on the sidewalk. Little paper furniture even. Little paper chairs in a little paper house. In high school a friend and I didn’t want to take what was called “home economics” but rather a drafting class. It was some struggle, meant for boys not girls, but we got in. The guys had this “our space” attitude but we females finished the semester, good grades. Somewhere I might still have my floor plans, made then, maybe. Turned out I don’t draw very well (my Father did) so for me a different school and career path. I do write write better, so there you go.
I am so fervent for Frank Lloyd Wright and the Prairie School of architecture. It’s the purest, most harmonious with the natural world. And minimalist, my taste. Been to some of his buildings more than once, including his home and studio in Oak Park. Absolutely love the idea of designing there.
Arts and Crafts Movement, furniture in my kitchen now. The sparse clean lines, almost Shaker. For me, so slimmed down and the right proportions.
I was in graduate school at Northwestern during a bad winter with a tough assigned beat, what was then named “urban renewal” and was displacing families to construct freeways. And if it was cold, which it was…the El actually shut down, never happens…too bad. Go cover your beat. My professors were seasoned, told us just get out there, get the information, sit in the chair and write. On Selectric typewriters on twenty third floor Wacker Drive. Those profs were badass journalists. But with heart. And professional standards.
So my solace Sundays were the El down from Evanston (once it could go again) to the jaw dropping Art Institute on Michigan Avenue. It’s such an abundance of what humans can do with their creativity, through centuries. Literally centuries. Up that staircase and there it is the gigantic La Grand Jatte. And one of my favorite artists, Edward Hopper’s inspired work, Nighthawks. It’s there. If I could camp in and wander the galleries out of my sleeping bag I’d probably be the happiest person ever.
I have used so many hours to the best in the Asian galleries at the Art Institute. Can’t buy serenity but there can feel it.
And got to write, love the Thorne miniature rooms. It must be the most favorite part of the Art Institute for most everyone. Little teeny models of rooms enclosed in glass from (I’m guessing) around 1300 to 1930. Those miniatures’ details are so eye and attention focusing. Never give a thought, when there, to some not great stuff happening in our world right now. Disappear into another era. (Which wasn’t near perfect either, but the tiny glass rooms make it look so for a couple of hours.)
After Northwestern I worked for what now is called Illinois Public Media and was on the Board of the Arts and Humanities Council for the Champaign/Urbana community. From there I still have a framed painting from a fundraising event, on the wall in my bedroom now. Done by an Illinois realist artist, Billy Morrow Jackson. People in bus stations. Farm paths at the end of winter when it still was sloppy outside but spring on the way. Farmhouse and barn. He painted what we saw.
Later I went to more advanced graduate school at USC in Los Angeles. There was a downtown museum named the “Temporary Contemporary”, while the permanent building was coming. Friday nights at the Temporary were free and I did the grad student thing, free, so soak up. I found two more of my favorite artists, David Hockney, and Robert Rauschenberg there. I have gifts of framed Hockney paintings still with me, but not the goat with a tire on its neck. Although I love it, it’s not mine. Note to self. Don’t forget the first favorite artist Hopper. He’s in Chicago. I’ll bet the Art Institute sells prints of Nighthawks. Aha. Get a frame.
One of my favorite art books came from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I went to an exhibition there of Picasso drawings, and the creative process on show was beyond fascinating. In the book too. Draft after draft, revision, revision. Ended up with the tragic masterpiece Guernica.
One trip to Europe, took my son to some French art. Got the photos. We went to DaVinci’s chateau in Amboise. Could not get over the idea of that genius walking those same floors. The Rodin house where my son sat for a while next to the pond talking with a Canadian couple, natural nice. And of course the Louvre. We stood with a crowd for the Mona Lisa, as happens, so known, everyone goes there, much smaller kind of rectangle than I expected. Not sure I understand that painting. There may be more than I was meant to understand, but I’m not an art scholar. Maybe some rich lady just wanted her portrait with nature behind her and it was just a gig for DaVinci.
I do have a DaVinci etching in my living room, so fan girl of creative polymaths.
When in England, I’ve been twice to Charleston House, the home of Vanessa Bell (Virginia Woolf’s sister) and Duncan Grant. They painted everything. It’s not minimalist. It’s paint like crazy, everything, even the fireplaces. I have the poster in my kitchen and did do my dining room furniture, now donated, copying their designs, in my Austin backyard. (Should have been writing then, not painting. Shaking my head at myself but some good meals were delivered to that table.)
I have a favorite design book on the Omega Workshops (long before my time) which Bell and Grant started, with Roger Fry, and ran for a while. Not just decorative, though it was, but also practical. Furnishings, textiles, stained glass, pottery. One could look at those creations today and still see the Post-Impressionist beauty.
A favorite British museum of mine, the Victoria and Albert. Decorative arts, what people use, functional and at the same time just bringing beauty into lives. The costume collection there is to drool for. Great staircases. Great ceilings. I let my teenaged son wander off there but we a had a flight to make, and the staff found him, twice. British kindness on that day. And we made our flight.
I have a framed painting from a benefit by ARCH, the Austin Resource Center for the Homeless, on my living room wall. It’s gorgeous. A person without a home made that beautiful work. My son was at the same benefit with me and gave the coins in his pocket to a person without a home who called himself Mr. Bear, to buy his art. I offered Mr. Bear more but he said he really was made happy by my son’s heartfelt purchase. It was a small piece, made of found objects, probably around what was then called Town Lake, that came out looking like an alligator or a crocodile (I don’t know the difference between water lizards) with a pipe. My son loved it, and it was his choice to buy. He and the artist talked for a really long time. Hours. How cool is that. One of the best art and best Mom days. I hope son still has that created found treasure.
In Austin I was a member of the Arts Council which reviewed proposals and gave grants to people with vision, just who needed a little support. One of the most gratifying things. I hope they still are thriving and creating.
Because I was on Arts Council I could go to about any art show, and I did, and I learned about the photographer Cindy Sherman, who I hadn’t known, at a downtown exhibit. Creating imagined images of women, mostly, her in costume and make up. What a brilliant idea.
So now I’m looking at my love of architecture and art because they’re good, and what our world can use.
Dayna Finet 