Last weekend's road trip included an unexpected detour to Sacramento (my first time there), and while the lighting of the Christmas tree in Old SacTo was (eagerly) festive, and the chicken vindaloo in Midtown was so delectably spicy it gave me a welt in the back of my throat from excessive chili pepper consumption, the highlight of my stay was definitely the Crocker Art Museum (thanks, TripAdvisor!). Here are some of the pieces I was most struck by.
The gentle motion of this first piece caught my eye as I'd barely even stepped past the lobby. Swaying in the stairway leading up to the second floor is Rapunzel #10, an animated projection by American installation artist, Jennifer Steinkamp. This enchanted garland immediately brought to my mind fairy tale princesses in magical lands (think Stephen Cosgrove's Serendipity children's books series from the '70s, specifically the ones with Morgan the unicorn) and indeed, this installation is associated with the Brothers Grimm's Rapunzel, a story involving addiction, hair and flowers. In Rapunzel, a pregnant mother, addicted to rampion or rapunzel flowers, was caught stealing from a witch's garden to satisfy her craving, and forced to give up her unborn child, Rapunzel. The witch placed Rapunzel high up in a tower with no outlet but one window, where she grew her golden hair long enough to cast out the window each time the witch called, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so that I may climb the golden stair. Steinkamp often includes nature-based imagery in her digital artwork, creating fascinating, hypnotic environments in architectural spaces.
A few steps past and around the corner from the mesmerizing stairwell, was this bold multi-paneled work of art. I don't recall whether there were "do not touch" signs near this piece, but I most definitely touched it. I couldn't help myself! The brilliant yet simple color combinations were slathered on so thickly, the grooves just begged my fingers to run over them to gain full appreciation of the generosity with which the medium was applied. The design is simple, symmetric, and uses so much paint that it takes 5 days to dry!! True, if there's any art feature that turns me on, it almost always involves incredible texture achieved by applying healthy amounts of paint. The artist, Albert Contreras, donated this untitled piece to the museum because he painted so prolifically, he ran out of space to store his work (umm.. please donate something to me?). Contreras painted through the 60s and into the early 70s, then took a 25-year break to drive garbage trucks, do road repairs and operate heavy machinery before finding his way back to art in 1997. And when he returned to painting, he did so ferociously, purchasing yards of canvas and hundreds of buckets of acrylics, and forming contraptions from trowels, spatulas and putty knives to use as his paintbrush. To quote Contreras in his 2009 interview with the LA Times, "I have paintings coming out of my ears."
A large portion of the second floor was devoted to Norman Rockwell, whose work is a reflection of American life and culture. Most striking is the long hallway lined with the illustrations Rockwell is best-known for: 323 covers for the Saturday Evening Post, including portraits of JFK, Nixon and Nehru.
Beyond the Rockwell exhibit, this 4'x5' grayscale composition stopped me right in my tracks for two reasons: the impressive pieces, and the imposing whole. Each of the 344 separate tiles bear intricate images, including various scenes of war-torn cities, death and destruction, along with close ups of ears, the heart and brain, all coming together to form an up-close portrait of George W. Bush. Appropriately named, All Nations Have Their Moment of Foolishness, this 2006 work of art by Richard Notkin clearly left an impression on me, though I wish the museum included the Artist's Statement as an accompaniment:
We have stumbled into the 21st Century with the technologies of 'Star Wars' and the emotional maturity of cavemen. If we can't find more creative solutions to solving worldwide social and political problems than sending young men and women to shred and incinerate one another's flesh with weapons of ever increasing efficiency, we will not survive to celebrate the passage into the 22nd Century -- the problems of human civilization are far too complex to be solved by means of explosive devices. And our country and too many of our world's nations are now in the hands of right wing thugs and fundamentalist tyrants who are fumbling the planet towards World War III. I continue to make ceramic sculptures which reflect on the social and political dilemmas of our world. As André Malraux observed, "Art is a revolt against man's fate". Need I say more?- Richard Notkin
Epidemic by Guy Colwell, was completed 2009, the year when the H1N1 swine flu pandemic hit. This one spoke to me mostly because I'm a bit of a germaphobe... I mean, I don't go overboard to the point where I rock a face mask everywhere I go, but I definitely use paper towels to avoid direct contact with sink knobs and door handles in public bathrooms (shudder)! Movies like Contagion and Outbreak seriously stress me out.
Matt Duffin's Crowd Control is particularly interesting to me for two different reasons: the medium and the message. This piece is an encaustic (wax on illustration board), which I am fascinated by. Having only played with encaustic a few times and experienced how fluid and unpredictable the material can be, I am intrigued by how meticulous and precise this piece is. The placard alongside Crowd Control poses the question, "Who is being controlled and by whom?" For me, the control box and plug-in evoked Puyi, the last Emperor of China, who "reigned" from the age of 2yrs, 10mos, for four years. Then in the years leading up to the second Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese took over Manchuria and installed the adult Puyi as the puppet leader (1934-1945) of Manchukuo to create some semblance of legitimacy, though he was never more than a figurehead as true power lay in the hands of the Japanese military. 
I enjoyed Bean Finneran's 20,000 Turquoise Curves mainly because it looked like it could be a midget Christmas tree out of Dr. Seuss-land. Taking inspiration from the natural beauty of the marshlands north of San Francisco, the artist assembled the sculpture piece by piece, rolling each clay curve by hand, and it seems both the process and the product are illustrative of ordered chaos. (And yes, I did see the "do not touch" sign this time, but it's not my fault... and it could be argued that the turquoise curves reached out and touched me!)
This untitled work in Gottfried Helnwein's painting series, Disasters of War, is simply striking. The image of this child is haunting and saddening, standing head bowed, with all the consequences of war weighing down on her shoulders (military uniform), and is perhaps testament to his own childhood, having been born in Vienna during the Holocaust.
This final piece is my absolute favorite: Portrait of My Father took Stephen Kaltenbach 7yrs to complete in his barn in California. Truly a memorial to a loved one's passing from one life to the next, this enormous work of art contains both light and shadow, while the pale design woven in with the face and hair give off the illusion of transparency and translucency. I am obsessed and fascinated by this portrait. To give some perspective as to size, the angle in this next photo shows the painting next to a tall doorway, upon which Gerald Heffernon's 2.3-foot tall Giant California Robin sculpture is perched.
Even the aumtum-colored trees in the park out front were beautiful. All in all, a wonderful experience. Until next time, Crocker!
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