John Singer Sargent – Rehearsal of the Pasdeloup Orchestra
Did anyone else not know that Sargent was a musician? And apparently, a gifted one? Or was it just me? Well, he was, and he frequently attended the orchestra conducted by Jules Etienne Pasdeloup. Pasdeloup was a champion of controversial modern composers for nearly three decades in the latter half of the nineteenth century and he rehearsed his orchestra at the Cirque d’Hiver, an ornate Second Empire indoor amphitheater. Some feel this is Sargent’s most abstract treatment of a subject and represents one of his boldest experiments with impressionism. This original work was first owned by Henry Bacon, and it may have been painted specifically for him.
Hurd said that his father, a lawyer with a shrewd eye for detail, asked on first seeing “Transients”, “Where are the Limeys going, son?” To which Hurd replied, “Limeys? They’re Okies.” His father said, “Then why are they driving on the wrong side of the road?” Hurd had forgotten to reverse his drawing – overlooking the fact that not to do so would put his subjects and their automobile on the wrong side of the road. He said his father, “then and there taught me a lesson in print making.”
The first time I recall becoming aware of Alison Krauss was when I watched her win all four CMA awards that she had been nominated for in 1995. Female Vocalist of the Year, Single of the Year for her sublime cover of Keith Whitley’s “When You Say Nothing at All”, Horizon Award, and Vocal Event of the Year for her “Somewhere in the Vicinity of the Heart” duet with Shenandoah.
The thing that stands out the most in this 30-year-old memory is every time the list of names was read, the little envelope opened, and Krauss’ name was called out, when she got to the stage to accept her trophy she seemed – a little embarrassed. Don’t misunderstand, she was gracious and thanked all the appropriate people, but the impression I got as I watched her exit the stage, all four times, was that she would rather be anywhere and be doing anything else than at that ceremony where the Lord’s of Country Music were showing her how talented they believed her to be.
Later that year, she also won a Grammy for the album she made with the Cox Family, “I Know Who Holds Tomorrow”. And in the years that have followed, she has accumulated 26 more Grammy’s, which for a time, made her the record holder for the female artist with the most wins. As the record stands now it’s Beyonce (35), Alison (27), and Aretha (18). When she became a member of the Grand Ole Opry in 1993, she was the youngest ever to have been inducted and the first Bluegrass artist in 29 years.
Over the years she has collaborated with everyone from Ralph Stanley to Def Leppard, Dolly Parton to Ringo Starr. “Raising Sand”, her 2007 album with Robert Plant, won all five awards it was nominated for at the 2009 Grammy’s, went platinum, and resulted in sold out concert venues on their world tour. In 2021, Plant and Krauss did it all over again with their second album, “Raise the Roof”.
And we haven’t even mentioned Union Station, the band Alison joined as a teenager when they released their debut album “Two Highways” in 1989.
This is all to say that the amount of “extraordinary” that exists in this one soul is simply remarkable. It would probably be enough to rhapsodize over her skills as a musician (she was winning fiddle championships at 13), or her preposterously perfect voice, or her ability as a producer and collector of songs and songwriters of the highest quality. But by all accounts, she is also a truly kind, gracious, and humble human being who seems a bit awkward around her obvious and abundant gifts. It’s almost as though she is just as amazed by them as we are.
I’ve seen Alison Krauss and Union Station (AKUS is what you’ll see on all the swag) in concert several times. In person they are delightful. They tell funny stories, tease each other, and talk about the songs they perform in a way that sometimes borders on reverence. And the amusing stories that Alison relates in particular often have a self-deprecating quality that some might interpret as her way of saying, “Please don’t hate me for being so incredible…none of this is my fault”.
I mean…as if.
After watching the ’95 CMA’s, I trotted myself down to the old Tower Records (how much do we miss Tower Records?) across the street from the Sports Arena in San Diego and bought myself the cassette (the cassette!) of Krauss’ solo album “Now That I’ve Found You” and became an instant and eternally rabid fan. However, because those were pre-Google days, it wasn’t until a couple years later that I realized Alison had a band called Union Station. And when their album “So Long, So Wrong” was released in 1997, my heart became forever and always anchored to THAT 14-song masterpiece as the single most influential and defining collection of music of my life. So far.
There have been dalliances over the years, with artists old and new. Several years ago I “discovered” Mark Knopfler and fell pretty hard. My latest fling has been with Charley Crockett. But no one has ever come close to breaching the “Greatest of All Time” perimeter that Alison, Dan, Ron, Barry, and Jerry established all those years ago in the deep dark midnight of my musical soul.
After a 14-year gap, Alison and the guys (with Russell Moore from IIIrd Tyme Out filling in for Dan Tyminski this time around) released “Arcadia” this past Friday, March 28th. I waited until 10:01 PM on Thursday March 27th (12:01 AM Eastern time) to log in to my Spotify account to download it.
It’s amazing. However, instead of me bumbling through a clunky, overly gushy review, you can read the New York times article below and enjoy a real journalist’s take on the new AKUS endeavor.
I’ll save my clunky, overly gushy thoughts about this new album and earlier albums for another time. In the meantime, do you have a GOAT? I’d love to hear about it.
We’ve got another Peter Hurd print today. I found this little gem in my favorite antique shop in Downtown Kalispell. Hurd painted this, one of this more well-known works, in 1954. Every time I see it, I am struck by how much my home state of Montana still looks exactly like this scene today. From the eternal sky to the cowboy boots, the fence building in this picture could have happened yesterday…down the road from my house. I’m sure all of the beautiful emptiness that currently surrounds me will not last forever, and I’m ok with that. I just try to remind myself to appreciate it while it lasts.
Peter McIntyre (1910-1995) was a New Zealand painter and author who became well known as a result of his official role as a war artist during WWII. I first became aware of his work when I stumbled across a battered copy of his book “Peter McIntyre’s West” published in 1970 in an antique store. His depictions of the “West” were so different from what I was used to seeing, filtered no doubt from his own experiences of living in a country with its own version wide open spaces, stunning landscapes, and terrible relations with its indigenous people. It’s always fascinating to see your home through a visitor’s lens, even better when the impressions are translated through masterful brushstrokes.
Peter Hurd (1904-1984) was married to Henriette Wyeth. Yes, THAT Henriette Wyeth. However, if he was at all intimidated by the prospect of being folded into such a preeminent artistic dynasty, it certainly does not show in his work. If anything, according to Andrew, who was twelve when his older sister and Peter were married, the awe ran in the other direction. In his introduction to “Peter Hurd – The Lithographs”, Andrew said, “He (Peter) could so easily have been a brother-in-law that turned away my youthful admiration, but he did not. I admired his horsemanship, his stories of faraway New Mexico, his dash, his vitality, in short, I made a pest of myself.”
This particular print is of a man Hurd saw on Main St. in Roswell NM who agreed to be his model. Hurd said he didn’t remember the man’s name, but he did remember he was a patient sitter, and he did not show the slightest interest in seeing the finished product.
With the exception of 2020, Western Art week has been held annually in the city of Great Falls since 1969. What started as an event built around the C.M. Russell Art Auction, which was founded by local television personality and civic booster Norma Ashby to benefit the C.M. Russell Museum, has grown into a wonderfully diverse gathering of some of the most influential and talented creators of Western art using any and all mediums.
It doesn’t hurt that as a city, Great Falls is uniquely suited for large scale event such as this. For one thing, it isn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis so you can pretty much get anywhere in town within fifteen minutes. Also, you won’t find yourself dealing with an abundance of traffic or fighting for parking spaces, even at the Montana Expo Park where the largest event was located. There are plenty of hotels for every budget, and some amazing restaurants. And the people are exceptionally friendly.
But back to the art.
It would be impossible to adequately convey how much talent and stunning artistry I observed in the space of two days. Truth be told, it was a little overwhelming. It might be easier to simply give you a tour with the art that I purchased.
The picture doesn’t do this piece justice. The artist is A. Nadine Pickthorn and she works with fused glass and high-powered engraving tools to engrave her images once the fusing process is complete. I tend to fall instantly and devastatingly in love with the art that end up buying for myself and that’s precisely what happened when I saw this little Chickadees feathers ruffling in the wind. This might be the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen.
A few of the hotels around town served as overflow locations for the Show, and at the Holiday Inn I got to chat a bit with Donna Ridgeway who was just delightful. I absolutely loved her work and would have bought several pieces if I was a rich lady instead of a normal person. I chose this one because she explained she based it on the fact that when she was young, her horse and her dog were best friends…so, you know.
There were a few scratchboard artists who’s work almost broke my brain. Janice Bogy was one of them. Her animal portraits, some of which took several months to complete, were so detailed and realistic that the only reason I knew they were not photographs is because she told me so. She told that the moose portrait was based on a real encounter she had while walking in the woods with her dog one day.
Ariel Rodriguez was another obscenely talented scratchboard artist. I had trouble narrowing down which of her prints I wanted to buy because I wanted to buy them all.
There were some incredible Native American artists showing some really beautiful work and one of the most impressive was Lyle Omeasoo’s ledger art. I happen to be a little wild about ledger art, so it’s rather convenient that I live in close proximity to some of the best in the business.
I – LOVED – Sara Austin’s work. She uses colored pencils on wood and the result is incredible and so unique. She was also a lovely person and it was nice chatting with her.
And last but definitely not least, I probably spent a half hour talking to Rebecca Behrent about all kinds of things. She told me about her print making process, how long it took her to complete her largest painting, the downsides of the “Art World”, how she’s just now getting back to her art after suffering a loss several years ago. I really enjoyed talking with her and I really liked her work. I hope she sold all of it.
So, if you’re in the neighborhood next year, I wholeheartedly recommend dropping in at the Expo and checking out Western Art Week. My only disclaimer is that if you are a person who is easily irritated by wind, take that into consideration. They should have named it Great Wind instead of Great Falls. I can now fully understand why some of those early women who came to settle on the Great Plains eventually lost their minds and had to be carted off back East. Hey, maybe someone should create a piece of art about that.
Every year, the city of Great Falls is host to the largest Western art show on, well, the planet. Tomorrow I’m heading east over the Rocky Mountain Front to check it out for the first time.
Thoughts and impressions will be posted forthwith.
When you have a job as coma inducing as mine is, finding ways to distract yourself from how bored you are while doing it becomes very important. Podcasts, audiobooks, and music are the essential axle grease that keep the reluctant wheels of my productivity engine functioning.
Music in particular has always been a part of my workday, although, and some of you may recognize this phenomenon, it can’t just be any old thing. Too loud, frantic and scream-y is out of the question. On the other hand, too slow, low, or nebulous is just as unacceptable for the opposite reason. I also find that I prefer to listen to instrumental music over music with words because, being a word person, I have a very hard time concentrating around sublime lyrics.
All of this is to say I end up spending way too much time on Spotify, curating a music collection that is rapidly getting so large and out of control it might take a year and half to organize – when I finally get around to it. The flip side is that, quite often, I randomly stumble upon some really good stuff and I thought I’d start sharing some of it.
Like most people who are aware of the vast talents of Billy Strings, it is not hard to be impressed by almost anything that he does. However, I think this 2 minute, 2 second live acappella performance tops my list.
Just because it’s Friday and this is so much fun.
Rachel Portman is the composer behind some of my favorite movie scores – Cider House Rules, Chocolate, Emma, etc. This is from her 2020 album Ask the River.
When I was about 11 or 12, my dad came home one day with a cassette tape called “Hooked on Classics”. It was an album full of slightly jazzy renditions of Handel’s Messiah, Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and – you get the idea. I loved it, passionately. I’m sure that little white plastic cassette birthed my savage devotion to instrumental music. Unfortunately, I think it also ruined me for life. I’m quite certain from that point on, my brain expected every piece of music it heard to be – EPIC – and it’s been chasing that high ever since. So, you can imagine my delight when I came across these next pieces. I’ve listened to them approximately 700 times in the last 4 days.
I recently discovered Sam Lewis and this is from his self titled 2012 album which is just great.
Um…if you have not heard anything by the Teskey Brothers, you are missing out. Just saying…
My maternal grandfather came from coal mining people in West Virginia and Pennsylvania and sometimes when I hear a voice like this, it feels like it’s specifically tuned to those dormant strands of my DNA. I can’t even begin to describe what it does to me.
And just in case you got the impression I only like male singers; I give you Michelle Moonshine. You may or may not know this about me – beautiful, sad songs sung by a gorgeous voice are my bread and butter, musically speaking. This entire album, Sad Spaghetti Westerns, checks all the boxes – emphatically.
These girls are so good it’s obscene. Seriously…
When I was growing up, Hooked on Classics aside, there was not a huge variety of music in our house. My dad mostly listened to Jazz (death by auditory torture) and my mother liked Mariachi music (not much better). This is why, as I get older, it’s amusing to me that I am starting to dip a toe into both genres. For instance, I’ve come to love and appreciate Herb Alpert, and Ella Fitzgerald, and the amount of Latin music in my playlists would shock and appall my 12-year-old self. This band, LaLom (The Los Angeles League of Musicians) is a fun mix of Cumbia and 60’s surfer instrumentals.
And last but not least…this. It makes me feel homesick…in the best possible way.
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A few years ago, during one of my in-law’s weekend visits, I noticed my father-in-law staring at the print of Edward Hopper’s “Chair Car” that I’d finally framed.
“There’s just something a little – off – about it isn’t there?” He made this observation with a smile that was part puzzled amusement, part honest curiosity. He was not being critical – he likes Hopper as much as I do. He and I spent the next few minutes trying to work out exactly what it was – about this painting in particular, and the rest of his work in general – that was off.
Was it the way he used light (or the lack of it) that often seems to give his scenes an eerie coldness? What is it about so many of his paintings that makes you feel an almost overwhelming loneliness? What is it that creates that emptiness that echoes off New York city rooftops, whispers through movie theaters, and hovers silently in Cape Cod back yards?
Not to mention, the biggest mystery, what is it about all of this eerie loneliness that we like so much?
We didn’t come to any firm conclusions that day, but our conversation stayed with me. Every time I saw a piece of art and thought, “Huh…that’s a little weird. But I like it!”, I thought about Hopper’s “Chair Car”, or his “House by the Railroad”, which, for no obvious reason, is so instantly menacing it gives me the shivers.
The first time I saw Andrea Kowch’s work it was so arresting I actually felt something like panic – in a good way. I simultaneously wanted to see everything she had ever created and had absolutely no idea what I was looking at.
Andrea Kowch – High Tide
Andrea Kowch – Dream Chaser
I mean – what the HECK?? Her work is so delightfully weird and just the right amount of creepy. It’s as is if Andrew Wyeth and L. Frank Baum (author of The Wizard of Oz) got together and had a little Goth baby – with a twist. But again, what is it about this weird offness that I like so much?
This past Winter I was listening to Bianca Bosker’s excellent book “Get the Picture” while running errands in town one day and had the thrilling experience of having a brain itch scratched in the best possible way when she explained why we like the weird stuff.
According to research from experimental psychologist Johan Wagemans, “Our perception of the world is only a prediction…shaped by our filters of expectation. And art…deliberately messes with those predictions. Artists create images that introduce incongruities…defy our expectations. Artists introduce unfamiliar experiences in an otherwise completely familiar setting…we’re drawn to artwork that subtly deviates from our predictions of the world.”
When I heard those words, I had to pull over on the not quite adequate shoulder, rewind, and listen to them again. That was it. Exactly. It explains why Hopper’s chair car looks more like some kind of Soviet bunker than East Coast public transportation, or why I find Andrew Wyeth’s work so bleak and comforting at the same time. It was such a thrilling moment I would have leaped out of the car and danced around a bit if not for the icy road and blind corner I was perched on.
Since then, it has been a new and wonderful process to appreciate the art that grabs me with that framework of understanding. Not everything I like is weird and creepy, but it’s nice to know that lusting after Andrea Kowch prints is not a sign of aberrant behavior. It’s just science.
