Moved by Pictures (oils, pastels, lithographs ...)

Some days in early spring are so bright that they demand to be explored, though they turn out to be so bitter and windy it's hard to enjoy being out in them. What better time to drive down to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, which is full of air and light, but also of heat? And art?

One exhibit featured a Japanese potter, Kamoda Shōji,  who's style, to judge from the photos in the flyer we got in the mail, seemed overly polished and elaborate, and far removed from the Mingei tradition. In fact, Shoji moved through a succession of styles during his long career, and though most of them were, indeed, elaborate and polished, quite a few of them were also very nice.

I finished with the one-room display before Hilary did, and I wandered across the lobby to the gift shop, where a coffee-table book caught my eye featuring a painter I'd never heard of named Agnes Pelton. I liked what I saw inside, and showed the book to Hilary. We hadn't plan to attend the ticketed exhibit of supernatural art on the second floor, but the day was still fresh and we decided to take a look.

I have come to the conclusion that it's very difficult to paint the supernatural. Many of the works in the show related to spiritualism, a movement from the turn of the twentieth century that focused on communicating with the dead. Evidently the aesthetic products of this movement have been attracting increased attention for some time now.

Most of the works in the MIA show are by artists I've never heard of, and quite a few of them are BAD in one way or another.  

But many of them are also fun, in a corny way, and a few do seem to evoke an eerie atmosphere. Others are wonderful regardless of the category or intent.

Grant Wood's painting of a traffic accident struck me as effective.

Also Andrew Wyeth's rendering of a woman on her deathbed peering off into the beyond.

A haunted room has been recreated in the gallery, but it seems the spooks were left behind on the loading dock.

One of my favorite phrases from the Old Testament is "Ezekiel's chariot," and an entire room near the end of the show was devoted to that theme.

I really liked the assemblage of love potions and other voodoo cures, with its numerous colorful bottles and references to Cassandra Wilson and D'Angelo.

And some of the paintings were good because their spiritualist connections remained obscure. 

And after all, doesn't art, by definition, always has a spiritual dimension?

________________________

A few days later we made the trek to St. Paul to see an exhibit of Minnesota art assembled by the Minnesota Historical Society. The attendant there told me that a travelling exhibit about Sherlock Holmes had been delayed, and they whipped up this substitute on the fly.

Nice work! They should make it permanent.

You can almost guess what kinds of things have been included, but you won't be able to assay the high level of artistry until you go there.

There are historical portraits ranging from Carl Sandberg to Barbara Flanagan and Bud Grant.

There are industrial scenes, and rural scenes that might have been painted in the forests of Barbizon.

There are plenty of whimsical "Minnesota" scenes.

And others that might seem a little grim.

This painting carried the evocative title: "and the feather drifted silently to earth, as though it meant something." 

It was a bright and joyous morning, but the wind-chill was near zero, and we felt the need to warm ourselves in the sunny confines of Brasa on Grand Avenue with some pulled pork, collard greens, and grits.

 We weren't quite done with art exploring. We took a lazy route west down Grand Avenue to the Mississippi, then north on River Road to the Weisman Art Museum on the U of M campus. A collection of works by an early twentieth century artist, B.J.O. Nordfeldt, were on exhibit, and many of them were outstanding.

I had never heard of Nordfeldt, but now that I've seen his work, I'd put it right up there were Marsden Hartley, Milton Avery, John Marin, and that crowd. And he seems to be at ease in a great variety of mediums.

This exhibition is evidently the first retrospective of Nordfeldt's work; if so, it's long overdue. He was born in the small town of Tullstorp, Sweden, and was raised in Chicago. At the age of 15, he attended the the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition and was inspired by the comprehensive overview of contemporary art he met up with there. A long career in art took him to London, Paris, Munich, and Vienna, then back to Chicago, New York City; Provincetown, and Santa Fe.

The show contains oils, woodblock prints, drawings. And it's free.