Who knew? I didn't.Paintings by the artist Dale Chihuly.
After I had a zen clarification of both my prejudices toward poodle trees (I now call them a form of bonsai) and my lack of knowledge of Japanese gardening in general, I headed down the path to the de Young.
The De Young is a newish museum in Golden Gate Park. The building is a metal trapezoidal group of wedges that house a variety of collections from contemporary to historical and anthropological art. What's not to love? But I was there to see a show of Ruby's pal and famed glass artist Dale Chihuly. This is where my journey begins.
Having lived in Seattle, which is this artist's stomping ground, I knew this artist's work. It was at our museum, and in a lot of other places. around town. The man is a household name. His art is recognizable by most and, well, I thought I knew it.
I knew nothing.
Walking down into the depths of the museum along a long long stone stairway lit by a sloping sliver of the glassed in Fern court, I was slowly submerged myself into dimness. The room at the bottom of the stairs that opens into the exhibit was very dark, almost black. I turned the corner and came upon the first installation.
The sculpture, a collection of glass drops, was self illuminated. They were created by standing on ladders an letting the molten glass trail down to and collect on the floor. Then neon was added. It was exhibited in the dark with blackened mirrors. This is art, now I see.
The next room was hung with big fluted disk of color, made in tribute of ancient Persian glass work, which the artist admits he had never seen. These looked more like the Chihuly I knew, more bowl-like, but the massing of them, the way they were hung in the room, and the artistry of the lighting were all breath-taking.
But it was the next room that really was the bell chime to awaken my conscience. First one wall is covered with Pendelton trade blankets. The other wall is covered with native american woven baskets. Then you notice that there are glass vessels interspersed with the woven pieces. A large collection of glass is displayed on a platform in the middle of the room. The patterns and colors of the Northwest coast native art is echoed in Chihuly's work. Writing on the wall explains how the artist was influenced by seeing a collection of baskets that came out of storage at a museum and were distorted by storage.
The fusion of form and color and textures was a clarifying moment for me. I started to see.
The rest of the show included a series of installations. Two old boats full of glass spheres which echoed old fishing floats. Vegetative forms clustered in gardens, Glass ceilings lighted from above that gave the feeling of being under the water of flower covered pond.
Learning that Chihuly was as much performance artist as glass artist was a moment of clarity that enabled me to better see what this artist does, and why he's so well respected.
Nothing like a museum that does what it's supposed to do. Inspire, teach, shock and awe. I thank my angel/mentor/spirit guide RZM for leading me there.
What I thought I knew, I didn't know at all. This old dog, learned a new trick.
- - - David
