REVIEW: Japanese Prints of Kabuki Theater

Photo courtesy of the UMMA

Although the UMMA houses many intriguing exhibits, the Japanese Prints of Kabuki Theater has become a favorite for visitors of the museum. The art of kabuki theater, which is a classical form of Japanese drama that dates as far back as the 17th century, has been captured by colorful woodblock prints for the public to view. The exhibit currently showcases a collection of these prints, including those made by admired print-artists such as Utagawa Toyokuni and Toyohara Kunichika.

When I first stepped into the exhibit, I was greeted by oriental music and a large wall colored in blue, with text that described the art of kabuki theater. After reading the text, I make my way around the room—it was spacious, with clean white walls that had splashes of color from prints. These depictions of theater showcased famous actors and actresses in scenes from actual plays, as well as fictional ones. Some of the scenes included actors in disguise from enemies, lovers who were reunited, and battle scenes.

Photo courtesy of the UMMA
Photo courtesy of the UMMA

Among the collection of prints was a showcase for a bright red kimono with gold embroidery in the shape of various animals. This kimono was iconic for a specific kabuki actress, who was rarely seen wearing kimonos of other colors.
Next to the kimono was a TV that played a video recording of a kabuki theater performance from the late 1900s, a visual that seemed to bring the prints to life.

Overall, visiting the exhibit was a wonderful experience. I was enlightened of an aspect of Japanese culture that I did not know existed. Don’t miss the chance to view the exhibit for yourself—it will be at the UMMA until the 29th of this month, from 11AM – 5PM on Tuesdays through Saturdays, 12PM – 5PM on Sundays!

REVIEW: Tibetan Book Covers from the MacLean Collection

A Tibetan book cover featuring carvings of three divine figures and intricate decal, coated in gold-colored paint. Photo courtesy of the Crow Collection website

I had never thought of book covers as anything besides dusty, worn out blankets that hugged pages of a story together, but the special exhibit at the UMMA proved me wrong. Being the first ever exhibit in the United States to showcase Tibetan book covers, Protecting Wisdom: Tibetan Book Covers from the MacLean Collection, this collection is currently on display until April 2 of 2017, and so I took the opportunity to visit.

Expecting to see 8 x 11 cardboard covers encased in cloth or leather, I was greeted by wooden covers that measured two feet wide and about a foot tall; 33 or so of these were either situated on the gallery walls or in showcases. As I made my way through the gallery, I took in the intricacies of these Tibetan treasures: multiple gods were carved into these covers along with dragons, peacocks, floral decals, and so on. Paint in hues of gold, red, and green embellished the slabs of wood. Some of the detailing was so intricate that the cover was designed by several people.

Tibetan book cover
Photo courtesy of the Crow Collection website
Tibetan book cover
Photo courtesy of the Crow Collection website

The elaborate nature of these book covers is understood through its purpose. For Tibetan Buddhists, books are a divine presence where the Buddha lives and reveals himself, and so to honor him, detailed book covers were frequently commissioned. Tibetan book cover design has a history of more than a thousand years, and so these covers date back from anywhere in the 11th century to the 18th century. A gem of the exhibit is a wonderfully carved and painted book cover from the early 1290s.

I left the exhibit with a newfound respect for the art of designing book covers, especially the Tibetan book covers created by Buddhists. This exhibit is currently on display until the 2nd of April from 8:00am to 5:00pm from Tuesdays through Sundays, so please come out to view this gallery!

REVIEW: Artists of the Photo-Secession Gallery Tour at UMMA

When did photography become an art form? At some point, the technology for capturing images of people, places, and things developed enough that people could start adding artistic flair.

At the turn of the 20th century, a young Alfred Stieglitz had a radical idea that photography could be art, which clashed with ideas of older, more established members such as Charles Buadelaire, who considered photography nothing more than a “servant of the sciences and arts.”

Luckily for us, Mr. Stieglitz would have none of that. He formed the Camera Club of New York and started an avant-garde photography journal that changed how people saw photography.

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These new artists, rather than simply pointing and shooting, used more artistic methods for their photographs. They took pictures with a soft focus to try and emulate the “look” of paintings. They used more expensive materials to get better contrast of lights and darks. They printed on Japanese paper, because nothing says classy quite like Japanese paper.

Seeing the pictures was enough to see the transition to photography as an art form, but going on a tour of the exhibit helped place the photos in a social context.

Our photo-secession-3stupendous tour guide compared two images of the Brooklyn bridge and pointed out how one was a standard picture of a bridge, while the other focused on the shapes and form of the structures of the bridge.

At the end, we learned about Stieglitz’s most famous work, The Steerage. He considered The Steerage to be his most important work because, while I only saw an interesting photograph with a lot going on, we learned that there was a deeper meaning.

The Steerage was one of the first photographs to make a social statement. Before the photograph of the protester in Tienanmen Square, or anything from Vietnam, there was a photo showing two separate classes in one photograph: the immigrants both literally and figuratively below the rich on the same ship.

The exhibit made it easy to see why opinions changed from viewing the camera as merely a gadget, to viewing it as a tool of the artist.

All the hard work put in by the photographers to distinguish their work as art, however, made me stop and think. In the era of iPhones and Instagram, where anyone can take a decent photo, are we regressing to a time where the photography is becoming a lesser art form?

PREVIEW: Japanese Prints of Kabuki Theater at the UMMA

1960_1_156The UMMA is currently displaying a collection of prints of Japanese Kabuki theater from their own collection.  Kabuki theater was popular during 18th and 19th century Japan, however it continues to draw viewers even today. These prints were of the most famous and influential Kabuki actors, who amassed many fans rabid for information about their private lives, much as fans behave towards their favorite celebrities now.  In order to sate that hunger, artists would create these colorful and dynamic wood-bock prints which often became wildly popular.

The exhibit will be open until January 29th, so make sure to swing by before it closes!  Tomorrow, Dec 4th, there will be a gallery talk from 2-3 PM for those interested in getting a more guided tour of the exhibition.

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PREVIEW: Artists of the Photo-Secession Gallery Tour at UMMA

When did photography become an art? At some point, people took cameras and tried to capture people and places and things not simply for the sake of capturing them, but for the beauty of it. This was the beginnings of pictorialism.

As the UMMA web site states about the early pictorialist photographers:

Their poetic compositions drawn from contemporary life, combined with the use of expensive and labor-intensive printing materials such as platinum and gum bichromate, established these photographs as complex and nuanced works of high artistic quality.

The exhibition is open now and will remain open until March 5th.

Their next FREE upcoming gallery talk/tour is:

Sunday, December 11th at 2pm

Check out their calendar here for more information on the other upcoming gallery talks:

January 15th at 2 pm

February 19th at 2 pm

REVIEW: SMTD@UMMA

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Image from @ummamuseum on Instagram

I arrived early to the museum, and I watched the people slowly drift in, until all at once the chairs were filled and people were standing around the edges of the room. From the front of UMMA’s apse, it looked like any other performance, yet the back of the room resembled a concert pit; people standing, craning to catch a glimpse of what’s going on, resigning themselves to peering between heads. The performance, Image in Motion, attracted a diverse audience; there were groups of students to parents to faculty. The dances were choreographed by students themselves. As they were inspired by UMMA’s collection Europe on Paper, which consists heavily of line drawings (which were described as very graphic by the museum guide), I was interested to see how the dancers would interpret the art. I chatted with the girl sitting next to me as we waited for the performance to begin, and she expressed her worries that she would not understand what was going on in the dances, having not seen the art. Once the show began, though, it became evident that – had we not known the source of inspiration – it could’ve assumed this was another “dance for dance’s sake” show. While the dancers themselves likely saw the ties between movement and art, in my eyes they were two separate things.

I came to the unfortunate realization that not everything I love, when combined, becomes better. For me, art and dance seem to exist in two separate hemispheres; both forms of art, yet there is not a direct correlation. Separate, though, I loved both. I commend anyone who is willing to put their art and talent up for display, to make themselves vulnerable to an audience. The first couple of dances were costumed in nude colors, embodying the Greek statues situated behind them in the space. The dancers themselves, though embodying a completely different collection of art, came to embody the statuary, giving the solitary figures breath, movement, and life. Many dancers chose to highlight the color red, pulling the inspiration from the prints. I enjoyed that, while the focus of the performance was dance, they did not shy away from involving the audience’s other senses. Some dancers spoke during the dance, or used breathing as a form of accompaniment in itself; one performance studied the interplay between a solo French horn player and a dancer, this specific piece causing me to question which performer was inspired by which? Before this last piece began, the audience was asked to stand and rearrange themselves in the back of the apse, creating a circle around the room. I loved this; I felt as though I was in the piece itself, and it caused the audience to rethink the classic mode of watching a performance.

While Image in Motion intended to explore the relationship between art prints and dance, the relationships between the dancers and the space and the accompaniment was much more dynamic. One of the most meaningful moments of the night was when a member of the dance faculty, preluding the show, discussed the current tensions and fears within today’s recent culture, and how dance and art serves as a means of expressing and strengthening oneself in the midst of outside turmoil.