This was actually my third visit to LACMA. The first two were for the King Tut and Magritte exhibits of recent years, neither of which had a problem with me coming in, yet wouldn't allow the camera. So this time we thought we'd skip the special galleries and just cover as much ground in the permanent collection as we could in one day. Here goes nothing, because soft lighting and the no-flash policy? Not our friends.
Without a particular plan, we went straight to one of Rob's favorite areas, the Indian art gallery. He's loved this stuff since he was a kid—but hey, what grade-schooler doesn't enjoy a good multi-armed deity rendered in sandstone or schist?
Luckily, there was a docent there who was really friendly and knowledgeable—he showed us some of his favorite pieces and told us stuff that wasn't on the placards, like how this Jain shrine has extra devotional figures that aren't on display because they're detachable and can't be fixed in place without damaging the shrine. Still, looks pretty good for an incomplete 300-year-old painted wooden relic! So if you ever come to this floor, ask for Hylan; he's your man.
Then there was this amazing bronze temple archway. If you look closely, you'll see that the entire thing is studded with small plates used for holding lamp oil. Imagine walking through an actual ring of fire on the way to services! Rob now wants one of these at the entrance to our place...but somehow I don't see that passing code anytime soon.
Moving on, we found this rare Vietnamese lacquered Buddha. Gorgeous, plus I'm just happy to have something else to associate with Buddhism and lacquer besides Sokushinbutsu.
I wonder, why isn't Assyria as prominent in the modern consciousness as Ancient Egypt? It's not like they were hurting for visually striking animal-headed entities as well! I can only assume it's a difference of PR. Or maybe they just didn't have a rabbit-headed god. 'Cause we're always a draw, right?
Check out this enormous headdress from Papua New Guinea. The things humans will wear to compensate for their lack of sufficient earage!
Boy, Berruguete doesn't give Dan Brown a whole lot to work with, does he?
Look out, wrongdoers, it's Ernst Barlach's SuperGod! (AKA: God the Father Hovering. But I like my title better.)
The Young Christ, by Alexei Von Jawlensky in 1920. Look at that palette—it's like he accurately predicted the '80s six decades early. If I didn't know any better, I'd think this was the cover to a lost Boy George solo album; the lips are even red, gold, and green!
Now this is cool: LACMA has a dedicated "Japanese pavilion," designed to showcase that art in a tranquil setting with natural light filtered by shoji-like outer walls. When you enter, you go straight to the top and then spiral your way down...
...stopping along the way to pull up a stool and take in the fine details of each screen, scroll, textile, and print at your leisure. This is the way to view art!
An 18th-century gusoku-style armor set. The bunny-size version is so going on my Amazon wishlist this Christmas.
The placard says this is an elephant, I say it's a baku. What do you folks at home think?
Ooh, inro! Since traditional Japanese couture didn't include pockets, people used these compartmented cases to carry their stuff. The cords held them together, and then the toggles on the top—netsuke—helped hold them in place when worn with an obi sash. Both inro and netuske evolved into artforms of their own, and of course, I'm all in favor of bunny-size art!
...especially when bunny-size art is also bunny-shaped! LACMA's netsuke collection includes dozens of these little gems; call me biased, but these two are my favorites.
This was new to us—the pre-Columbian gallery, which only opened last year. Love those laser-cut fiberboard walls, which undulate as if of their own accord! Truthfully, I enjoyed those more than the display I'm looking at in this picture, because if Latin American funerary urns make me think of anything, it's "Teso Dos Bichos," unfortunately.
On to the modern wing! Sculptor David Smith, who started out as an auto welder, completed twenty-eight works in his Cubi series before his death in, ironically enough, a car accident; this is Cubi XXIII. Not bad for a steeltown boy on a Saturday night!
Jay DeFeo's The Jewel has to be seen up close to be fully appreciated—aside from its beautiful melted-crayon quality, the paint is so thick that it's practically a relief. And that was just the windup for The Rose, which isn't in LACMA's collection but must be something to see, since the paint projects nearly a foot off the canvas and weighs over a ton! BTW, Jay? Was a woman.
If I'm partial to this one, it's because it's like I'm watching the Big Bang through a private window. In another realm.
Hey, Rauschenberg's Canyon! 2009 is its golden anniversary. My favorite part, naturally, is the preserved bald eagle nailed to the piece—I have no love for birds of prey, so suck it, Swoopy! Abstract expressionists, 1; raptors, zip.
You just know Rob will want this Joseph Beuys for the backyard someday.
Light as an artform in itself? Why not! Thomas Wilfred constructed each of his "Lumia" devices to work as a kind of automated kaleidoscope, and despite his lack of formal mechanical training, many of them still work today. This one is Luccata, Opus 162, which rotates its various colored pieces along different planes so that what the viewer sees shifts continuously. Trippy!
And what field trip would be complete without a visit to the gift shop? Only at a place like this would you find a Ganesha plush! If I look dismayed, it's because I just spotted the $21.95 tag on the back.
So that brings our long day at the museum to an end, and by now it was dark enough that we could close out with a proper shot of Chris Burden's Urban Light installation at the front entrance. Bye from LACMA—will it be the Getty's turn next?
