From the monthly archives: November 2009

Yes, I made that word up, “exponentialized.” Surely, a little latitude is allowed on your own blog!

But what I am referring to are acrylic mixed media works by artist Grant Miller (who hails from Kansas City) at a show a few weeks ago courtesy of the Cecille R. Hunt Gallery, Webster University, St. Louis.

http://www.webster.edu/news/releases/images/grantmiller1.jpg

http://www.webster.edu/news/releases/images/grantmiller2.jpg

http://www.blackandwhiteartgallery.com/press/miller.pdf;

http://oneartworld.com/artists/G/Grant+Miller.html

Miller constructs elaborate and exceedingly intricate three dimensional spaces from linear elements – interconnected lines, shapes, frames, and rope.  If you took all the shells of buildings (down to the girders and wiring) from a city skyline and jumbled them all together, you might get an inkling of what results in Miller’s work. They reminded me of labyrinths which themselves are interconnected and woven together. Three-dimensionalized. Exponentialized. Strangely enough, though, the resulting structure is anything but chaotic but rather seems to my eye to have an inherent structural stability, as in you couldn’t destroy it with wrecking ball if you tried.

As a music analogy, you might think Wagnerian, dense, robust, relentless, but every note connected to every other note and word (in the operas anyway) in some way.

The narrative description provided at the gallery (which, frankly, almost never make a lick of sense to me), say they are about overexposure (such as to cyberspace -hey, that’s where we are now!) and information overload. Perhaps, but here is what Miller’s work did to me: I felt like I was the center of these elaborate structures and that caused me to think about my relationship with the vastness (structural complexity?) of my interconnected world and even in specific ways, such has how I “connect” with people through this blog.

Then I realized something. This blog may be part of that vast astral cloud known as cyberspace but I’ve been connecting with a few people on a one-to-one basis through it. So, what results from this blog is perhaps the antithesis of Miller’s representations. A few solid human connections distilled from the miasma of information overload.

I found interesting to think about. I am anything but exponentialized at this moment.

Anyway, Grant Miller’s work is worth a closer look. I can’t recall anything quite like it.

So, I attended the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra’s Chamber Music concert (a woodwind quintet and a violin soloist) Wednesday evening November 18 2009 at the Pulitzer Museum in St. louis. It was sublime, marred by only one thing, which bothers me every time I visit the Pulitzer. There was a  museum docent standing behind the musicians the entire performance. It is an utter distraction. Who insists that a docent stand there the entire performance? And by the way, in such a glorious space (you have to see this place to believe it, wide open, concrete, just lovely), why have the concert arranged like every other concert, where listeners have to sit still in rows and columns?

Since the music was supposed to be correlated to the art, why not allow everyone to just wander around, experience the art and the music within the spaces, so to speak? After all, space is what the design of this museum is all about.

Which brings me to… Every time I go to the Pulitzer, there are more docents standing around than visitors. And they stare at you, And they follow you around. And they are sometimes on top of you to where you can’t even hold a quiet conversation with the people you came with without feeling like your privacy is being violated. It is the height of irony that such a glorious and open space (I do love it, don’t get me wrong) feels so confining. Even just approaching the entrance doors, you see some burley guy standing right there with his arms crossed, like your public enemy number one just for wanting to patronize and support the museum. I fully understand the need to protect the art. But can’t they find a less intrusive way of doing this? I go to museums all around the world and this is the only one that feels like it’s run by Homeland Security.

The one positive from all this is the first time this happened, I came home and wrote a one-act play about the experience.

Imagine if the notes and sounds from the woodwind quintet and violin solo followed you around, nestled up to you, surrounded you, and “spoke” to you about the art you are viewing? Now that would be an experience!


Once again, David Robertson and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra are downright avant-garde, performing a “Water Concerto for Water Percussion and Orchestra” by contemporary composer Tan Dun Friday evening on the eve of Halloween. I couldn’t tell you if this was great music or a great performance because I’d never heard any such thing before. But I can tell you I was fascinated by the idea, the new sounds, and the new instruments.

Picture several pedestal style sink bowls (elegant ones of clear glass, not the ones in my kitchen or bathroom) filled with water surrounded by a variety of devices to make sounds with them. The ones I remember are a hollow tube that reminded me of glassware we used to use in chemistry lab in high school and college, and gourds placed in the water played like a miniature drum set. I can’t describe what all of this sounded like except to say that it all seemed to me as fluid as the water I was watching being played.

The piece began with very quiet sounds emanating from the water percussion (Colin Currie the percussion soloist) and then the audience was definitely paying full attention after the entrance of the horns. The piece ended with a shower, the percussionist holding a strainer high above his head, letting the water drain back into the bowl. In between, well, get the recording, if there is one, or ever will be!

But here’s another unique thing: This soloist (a percussionist) moved around the stage among his various instruments and was even accompanied by his own “section” (two water percussionists at either end of the stage. At various points, he had to quickly grab his next instrument for making sound within a second after turning a page of his music. Then, he moved dance like to the Xylophone and played that for a while. Usually, a soloist moves around, but only around a fixed axis.

It was a bit humorous to watch the audience give a standing ovation as I am pretty sure none of them had any way to benchmark this performance either. But I guess that’s become the thing to do now – standing ovations no matter what. It must be like grade inflation in the schools. I suppose I like the newest of musical sounds but am still a fuddy dud in other ways. Maybe they were standing for the bold selections of our conductor.

It may be a few decades before Water concertos becomes part of the standard repertoire, but this listener, who has been going to symphony concerts for more than four decades, has nothing but admiration, respect, and praise for this conductor and the new sounds he is bringing to this somewhat weary Midwestern city. If I can’t bring myself to stand up at Powell Hall, I’ll certainly make a stand here.

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