Melanie's Paintings

First things first – Melanie’s paintings should be displayed vertically, not in a triangle, like I had them before today. When hung vertically, they form an obvious progression from the heat of the day to the cool of a moonlit night.

So what do I like about Melanie’s paintings?

This may sound like criticism, but it is far from it – I like Melanie’s paintings because they are childlike. Not childish. Childlike. If you were to try to paint the dream of a child, these are what you would paint. The buildings are distended, as if alive. The windows, especially in the middle painting, look like eyes. The sun in the top and bottom paintings looks almost as if it has been spit up from the street. And the street itself looks as if it is standing straight up and down.

Melanie, it seems to me, has captured brilliantly a recurrent dream image of a child. And that is no insignificant feat.

It seems to me that capturing is perhaps one of the fundamental artistic metaphors.

Great artists somehow capture something.

Maybe the fact that capturing is so important to art is part of the reason that photography changed art so much. Photographs capture rather well the world just as it is. So with the advent of photography artists had to figure out not just how to capture something but also what to capture. And that doubles the difficulty.

This is pure speculation, but perhaps what makes contemporary art so difficult, both to produce and to appreciate, is the fact that artists must now figure out both what to capture and how to capture it. Picasso’s cubist attempts to capture the three dimensionality of a person on a two dimensional plane is a case in point. It took a genius to think that such a phenomenon could and should be captured and then to figure out how to do it. And it takes a certain aesthetic leap to appreciate Picasso’s cubist paintings. Neither capturing what is not part of the world nor appreciating what is captured are easy feats.

And this in part is what I like so much about Melanie’s paintings. She has captured a child’s dream. Indeed, when I look at Melanie’s paintings I feel a bit like a child who has been winked at by someone who knows about his dreams.

Three For One

I made another trade. But I didn’t just get one painting. No, I got three.

Last night I drove to Melanie Bamberg's place to see her collection of art. But as I did, Kelly's first question kept bouncing around in my head: How will I know if I trade up?

In fact, I was almost driven to distraction by that question.

But then Melanie solved the dilemma for me. After she showed me her very interesting collection of art, she offered me three paintings for one. And in strictly numerical terms, getting three for one is a trade up.

Indeed, as I thought about trading with Melanie, I couldn’t help but consider an interesting possibility. If I got three paintings in this trade, maybe in my next trade I can get eight paintings; and in the next, seventeen. Who knows? In ten trades I may have eight thousand paintings; and I bet I could trade eight thousand paintings for a Van Gogh.

Of course, I still want to trade for good paintings, even if I am getting more of them.

But in the case of Melanie’s paintings I couldn’t be more pleased.

When I looked at Melanie’s facebook gallery of paintings a few days before visiting her, I immediately noticed the three that I eventually traded for. But when I saw them online, I thought: surely, Melanie won’t give even one of those paintings away. They are all so cool. I really dug those paintings. Still do.

But then Melanie offered to give me all three. I was flabbergasted. Still am.

In my next post, I will tell you what I think is so cool about Melanie’s paintings.

But before doing so, let me first thank Melanie for giving me three such awesome paintings.

And before leaving for the day, let me add: if anyone wants to trade for my three totally cool Melanie Bamberg paintings, let me know.

Picasso!

3500 ceramic pieces in a little over ten years. -- that’s how many Picasso made near the end of his life.

I learned that fact over the weekend at a museum in Charleston. I am still stunned by it. That’s about one piece a day. Except for performing basic biological functions, I haven’t done anything every day for even a week much less ten years.

So I’m feeling pretty ordinary compared to good old Picasso.

As I drove away from Charleston I thought that perhaps I would feel a bit less ordinary were I to trade up to Charleston. That way I would own the museum that holds the Picasso vase that made me feel so ordinary.

Could I trade up to Charleston?

Probably not.

Besides, even though Picasso is great, I still prefer Van Gogh. I think it has something to do with his ear. And I don’t think there are any Van Gogh's in Charleston.

So I will stick to my original plan. Trading up to a Van Gogh.

And as I mentioned last week, I am supposed to go see another artist’s paintings on Wednesday.

I have seen pictures of the artist’s work online, and I think they are great. So I can’t wait.

I will let you know what happens in my next post.

Just to help things along, though, I can’t help but tell the universe:

I want to trade my Kelly Koeppel this week for a cool painting.
I want to trade my Kelly Koeppel this week for a cool painting.
I want to trade my Kelly Koeppel this week for a cool painting.

Pagan Rituals

Two nights ago was the summer solstice. What a beautiful night.

I think Van Gogh liked the summer solstice. That is pure speculation on my part. But it is hard not to like the summer solstice. The moon takes on a special glow.

I wonder whether Van Gogh ever engaged in a pagan ritual. He was an artist after all. Aren’t they supposed to do that kind of thing?

Does anyone really know what Van Gogh was like? I would like to know what he was like. Did he know about pagan rituals? Did he engage in any?

I think it would be a shame if there were no truth to pagan rituals. Indeed, I propose a bold thesis:

If there isn’t at least some truth to pagan rituals, the world is less beautiful than it could have been.

Pagan rituals, after all, are beautiful.

I will call that thesis: The Pagan Ritual Thesis (PRT)

And because I feel so strongly about PRT, I am going to declare to the universe:

Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.
Let there be at least some truth to pagan rituals.

And now that I have the universe’s attention, I want to thank it for the lovely time I had two nights ago – it was a beautiful summer solstice.

And on an unrelated note, someone else may be interested in trading. A week from today I am supposed to go see her collection of art. I can’t wait.

Kelly's Second Question

I want a Van Gogh. So I decided I’d try to trade up to one just like the red paper clip guy traded up from a paper clip to a house. But in order to make my plan a bit different and so potentially more interesting, I thought I would hold a lottery for the Van Gogh once I got it. If I gave all and only those people who traded with me the right to buy a lottery ticket for half the ticket’s real price, anyone who traded with me would get some benefit in addition to helping me achieve my goal. That, I thought, might be lots of fun.

But then, as I was in the middle of trading with Kelly, she asked very bluntly:

With the addition of the lottery, hasn’t your plan now become too much of a scheme? Won’t money taint it?

If I could express in words the sinking feeling I had when she asked me those questions, I would. Maybe Kelly was right. Maybe I had tainted my plan. Money does do that. And people don’t like getting caught up in a scheme. So maybe I should stick to trading up to a Van Gogh and leave out the lottery part.

Kelly then had a very good suggestion: why don’t you ask some of the other people who might trade with you what they think?

So that is what I will do. I will ask the next few people interested in trading which plan they prefer: trading up without a lottery or trading up with a lottery.

But just to set the stage, here are what I take to be the pros and cons of the two plans.

Trading Up Without Lottery

Pros

Isn’t tainted with money.

Cons

Isn’t all that different from the red paper clip guy’s plan.

People who trade with me won’t get any benefit other than having
participated in my pursuit of a Van Gogh

Trading Up With Lottery

Pros

People who trade with me could benefit monetarily and could, if they so choose, donate such money to some worthy cause.

Cons

Taints the process with money and so seems like a scheme.

Those are the options at the moment. If anyone has any thoughts, let me know.

And of course if anyone wants to trade for my awesome Kelly Koeppel original, let me know that as well.

Kelly's First Question

As Kelly looked for paintings in her garage, she asked me a simple question: how will you know when you have traded up?

‘Well’, I said, in a confident tone, ‘there are different ways.’

‘Like what?’ Kelly asked.

‘I could, umm, see what it is worth on the market.’

‘But what if it hasn’t been sold? Or what if the market value doesn’t reflect its quality?’

And with just a few questions, Kelly had exposed a soft underbelly of my plan. It is easy to see why a snowmobile is worth more than a red paper clip. But it is not nearly so easy to see why a Van Gogh is worth more than a Turner or a Manet. Or, to make the point more local, it is not so easy to see why the paintings that Kelly has are worth more than the Dominic original.

Having been asked such an important question, I countered with a lame response: I guess I’ll just have to see whether I like it.

Ugh. Is that it? Is that all I can say about whether I have traded up? Is it really a matter of my looking at some piece of art and, just as if I were Homer Simpson, saying ‘I like that one’?

This problem only got worse once I saw the painting that I eventually traded for. When I saw it, I was immediately struck by it and thought to myself – no way will Kelly trade me that one for the Dominic. But Kelly told me emphatically that she hated it, which made trading for it seem like a good deal for both of us.

Our transaction, however, suddenly made me a little worried. In fact, shortly after leaving Kelly’s house, I began to engage in a bizarre philosophical thought experiment.

Maybe Kelly got the better deal after all. Maybe Dominic’s original is the greatest work ever produced and in my attempt to end up with a supposed masterpiece I have in fact embarked on a long process of trading down. After all, if beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, maybe the beholders will eventually judge Dominic’s drawing to be the pinnacle of artistic progress.

Hmm…

But that is only the first question Kelly raised about my plan. She had another even more difficult question.

I’ll wait until next time, however, to tell you what that question is.

A Trade!

I feel like a kid who has tasted candy for the first time. Last night, I traded my Dominic original for a Kelly Koeppel original. And I haven’t been able to think about anything else since.

I spent two absolutely brilliant hours last night looking at Kelly’s collection and talking to her. I will try to recount some of the more interesting aspects of our conversation in the next few posts. But let me first talk about her painting.

That’s a picture of Kelly’s painting right above the Dominic. It is in my not so humble opinion (IMNSHO) fascinating. It is fascinating in its own right. But what makes it even more fascinating is the fact that Kelly hates it. The artist hates her own painting. And yet, I love it. She told me that other people love it as well. The artist hates it; and yet other people love it. The implications of such a state of affairs have had me pulling my hair out ever since.

The most obvious feature of the painting is the blue outline of the outstretched legs, stomach and breasts of a woman as seen from that woman’s point of view. If you loosen your eyes a bit, though, you can look at that outline in different ways. The outstretched legs look like two fingers being held up in a victory sign. And if you really let your imagination run wild, the outline looks like the elongated ears, top of the forehead and sunglasses of a Donnie Darko style Easter bunny.

The blueness of the outline stands in edgy contrast to the orange and brown background. The contrast gives the impression that Kelly took an old painting and painted the outline on top of it. This, Kelly told me, was a deliberate effect.

If you look closely, you can see a barely visible face in the orange background. When I first saw the face, I thought it looked like Jimi Hendrix. But the more I look at it, the more Christ-like it looks to me. Of course, the face is abstract enough that you can see what you like in it. But the combined effect of the barely visible male face below the seemingly out of place blue outline of a woman’s breasts, stomach and legs really is quite striking.

As I said, I think Kelly’s painting is great. And I love the way it looks on my wall. So let me take this opportunity to thank Kelly for her painting.

Moreover, I am inclined to think that I made a good trade. The Dominic original was great. But this painting is to be sure a trade up.

Or is it?

Ah. Nothing in life is simple. Before going over to Kelly’s I would certainly have been convinced that trading the Dominic original for her painting would be a ‘trade up’. But our conversation has made me question whether I really did ‘trade up’. After all, if she hates her painting, what does that say about its real value?

Indeed, our conversation threw me into a state of confusion about not just art in general but also about my new and improved plan to get a Van Gogh. Kelly raised some difficult questions about the plan; and now I am no longer convinced that it is a good one.

I will try to explain the source of my confusion in the next few posts. And in the process I should get to talk more about Kelly’s painting and the fact that she hates it.

But until then, let me once again thank Kelly for trading with me.

And let me take this opportunity to say: if anyone wants to trade for this Kelly Koeppel original, let me know.