Tag Archives: Art

Me and My Shadows

03 Friday May 2013

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me and my shadow

BY JULIE SEYLER

I love black and white photography – the rich lushness of gelatin silver prints. One simply cannot capture the depth and compassion that illuminates so many images captured on film developed in a dark room using chemicals. My heart tends to lead me to the photojournalists of the ’40s and ’50s: Helen Levitt and her street photography of little boys playing in fire hydrants on a hot summer night before there was air conditioning; Robert Capa documenting men fighting in war, and the utter naked brazenness of Weegee and his blood-threaded images of homicide victims. Be it nobility or sensationalism, the photographs were more than pages in a magazine – they ultimately pushed forward an underused medium in art. They were powerful and iconic.

A few weeks ago, while wandering through The Museum of Modern Art, I discovered a photojournalist I had not heard of before. Bill Brandt, was British,and the show ranged from photos of coal miners in England to the bombed out streets of London during World War II to abstract nudes. For me, he nailed the picture from subject matter to composition, and “Shadow and Light”, as the show was called. I believe all images were gelatin silver prints.

Technology has evolved to such a degree that black-and-white film is nearly extinct.The modern digital camera is embedded with a setting that allows you to turn off color, and, aha, one can shoot in black and white. So there are times when I see shadows happening, and on goes, “COLOR OFF.” The art form may have been reduced to a button, and the quality may pale, but the fascination of the image holds. Here is my homage to a shadow and the sensual:

Preeminent birth

Preeminent Birth.

curve

Curve.

leg up

Leg-Up.

time to walk away
Time to Walk Away.

Walking Like a Tourist in Manhattan

22 Monday Apr 2013

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Observing the city from on high. Bowery Savings Bank.

Observing the city from on high. Bowery Savings Bank. All photos by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Sometimes I pretend that I am a tourist in Manhattan. I go for a walk with my camera looking for things that I would notice if I were on vacation in an unknown city. I might wander down Second Avenue or take the bus up to the George Washington Bridge or, if in the mood for a boat trip, hop on the ferry to Staten Island. It’s always great to see the Statue of Liberty.

Liberty in the distance.

Liberty in the distance.

One day, I walked south on the Bowery. At the corner of Houston Street, like almost every block in the city, construction was going on. To protect against falling debris, a tarp overhang, bolted down by a mesh wire wall, had been erected, thereby creating a covered pedestrian walkway. I was about to cross the street when I noticed that the obliqueness of the early morning, eastern light created shadows on the sidewalk. When the wind blew against the wire mesh, it looked like ripples on a lake …

Sidewalk mesh. Photo by Julie Seyler

… and the steel bars holding everything down reminded me of a Franz Kline painting:

Shadow lines on a sidewalk. Photo by Julie Seyler

I kept walking south, and came upon a grand old building supported by columns in a Greek Corinthian style, and decorated all over with ornate floral fretwork, which seems to be a ubiquitous characteristic of 19th century architecture.

The Bowery Savings Bank

The Bowery Savings Bank.

It was the Bowery Savings Bank Building, completed in 1895 by the firm of McKim, Mead and White. It had been designated a New York City landmark back in 1966. The architects had even taken into account the ground one stood on before entering the imposing doors of the bank. Red and white mosaic tile had been laid down in a checkered pattern. It framed a red vine with sprouting leaves. Given the speckled concrete floors that support modern commercial buildings, it seemed so exotic despite its somewhat battered condition.

Mosaic tile. Bowery Savings Bank.

Mosaic tile. Bowery Savings Bank.

At Canal Street, I turned around and headed back uptown. The tenement buildings remained a testament to the city that once was. Slowly, they will be torn down, and replaced with glass boxes. That is the history of New York. Each generation makes its mark, and with it a little more architectural history is stripped away. I snapped this photo in memory of all the long lost fire escapes.

Fire escape confusion

Fire escape confusion.

Deep Affection, and a Pillow to Prove It

19 Friday Apr 2013

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"The Cycle of Love". Pillow art by Julie Seyler

“The Cycle of Love.” Pillow art by Julie Seyler.

Sometimes, we may think the cycle of love refers only to the cycle of our lovers and spouses. But, does it not also refer to the cycle that imbues the greatest friendships? The cycle of affection, happiness, joy and love we feel, over and over again, when we remember how lucky we are to have the people in our lives whom we call great friends?

So here’s to the five-month anniversary of the blog, and the cycle of love that underlies it. Thanks to everyone for following and reading.

Oh Baby! The Art of a Pink Push-Up, Padded with Plastic Ones

12 Friday Apr 2013

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Pink push-up bra. Julie Seyler.

My pink, push-up bra. Assembled by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I walk crosstown to swim several times a week. I wear my bathing suit under my work clothes, and always remember to pack my underwear. Except when I forget. It happened a couple of summers ago, so before I got to my office I ducked into Strawberry’s, a discount women’s department store that carries everything from umbrellas to shoes; sweaters to lingerie (albeit the lingerie selection is limited). The choices run from leopard print to neon blue, all made with 100% non-natural fabrics. The best I could do was a hot pink, perfectly constructed, push-up bra in a material designed to evoke faux silk. It looked sort of like a bathing suit top, but it got me through the day. I came home, and retired it to the back room where I keep all my art supplies.

But the basic bones of the bra spoke to me. It amounted to sculpture, and given its vibrant color, I knew I had to do something with it.

So, I lined a wooden box with black velvet. I figured the pink sheen of the polyester would pop out when placed against the black. Over the years, I have purchased hundreds of spools of vintage silk thread. The colors are super pure, and the texture of the thread is lush. I selected a red and a blue to sew the bra into the black velvet box. I am enchanted by miniature plastic babies, so I sewed a few of them onto the bra. I loved it when it was finished, and decided that my friends Deb and John might also love it.

I am so flattered. It’s hanging in their guest bathroom downstairs for all to peruse when nature calls.

Close-up pink push-up bra.

Close-up.

The Saturday Blog: Renewal

06 Saturday Apr 2013

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slatted boards and sunlight

Slatted boards and sunlight. Photo by Julie Seyler.

We have come through winter.  Like a fresh coat of paint, we are, oh, so ready, for the renewal that spring brings.

Yale Art Gallery Yields Ancient Flip-Flops, Word Games, and a “David Yurman”

01 Monday Apr 2013

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glass mosaic bowl 1st century B.C. to 2nd century A.D.

Glass mosaic bowl, 1st century B.C. to 2nd century A.D.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I am passionate about ancient objects.  Vases, bowls, tables, and combs, when crafted by an artisan who might be 4000 years old today, blow my mind. So I scour the ancient art galleries of museums, and love to visit once-buried cities. Seeing old artifacts confirms the continuity of fashion; the practicality of drinking glasses; the fun of jewelry.

One bitter day in March, a friend and I drove up to the Yale Art Gallery. From the city, it’s  about 2 hours on I-95. I had heard that the recent renovation was spectacular, but had ignored reading about it, so I went with a blind eye. The minute we drove onto Chapel Street, and past the stately gothic buildings that comprise Yale University, I was enamored. The campus is not beautiful in the sense of rolling hills, but in the majesty of the architecture. It celebrates education with arches and steeples and marble and wrought iron gates. If ever I wanted to go back to being a student, this stroll around Yale made me long for youth in a way that was not familiar.

So when I entered the art gallery, I was already enchanted and became more so as we ambled through. The little I saw reflected the tip of an amazing collection – a mini- Metropolitan Museum of Art, but so much more accessible.  The info cards give the necessary details with simplicity, and it was crowded, but not jammed.

Within the Roman galleries was an exhibit devoted to the city of Dura-Europos, founded in 300 B.C. on the western bank of the Euphrates River, in what is now present-day Syria. The Romans dominated from about 165 A.D. until another invading army, the Sassanians, took over. The site was discovered by a team of Yale archaeologists in the 1920s, and the gallery is a showcase for their finds. I spotted a leather flip flop that could have been made by Rainbow; a David Yurman bracelet and Matisse-like terracotta female figures.

Leather flip flop Dura-Europos 2nd-3rd century A.D.

Leather flip flop Dura-Europos 2nd-3rd century A.D.

David Yurman bracelet circa 200-256 A.D.

“David Yurman” bracelet circa 200-256 A.D.

The zaktik torso. 1st century B.C.- 2nd century A.D.

The zaktik torso. 1st century B.C.- 2nd century A.D.

My favorite was the word puzzle. Each of the words (ROTAS, OPERA, TENET, AREPO, and SATOR), written on this plaster plaque, can be read right to left, or left to right, or up and down, or down and up, and end up spelling the same word. A master acrostic palindrome. The meaning remains an enigma, but not the pleasure of a word game, which is timeless.

word puzzle 165-256 A.D.

The Saturday Blog: The Ceiba Tree

30 Saturday Mar 2013

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Ceiba tree. Tikal. Guatemala

Ceiba tree. Tikal, Guatemala. Photo by Julie Seyler.

Tikal, Guatemala is a destination place for those who are intrigued and curious about the Mayans. But beyond the grand temples, stands nature. The Mayans believed that a great Ceiba tree stood at the center of the earth, and connected the terrestrial world to the spirit world above. Who doesn’t want a little connection to the spirit, wherever it is circulating?

In Praise of the Classic Car

28 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in Art, Confessional

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me at a car show shooting the interior of a 1964 Chrysler

Double Shot: Julie shooting the interior of a 1964 Chrysler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I’ve already walked down memory lane with why I get a kick out of convertibles, and Bob has reminisced about his grand old ’64 Ford Galaxie. So, staying on message with the automobile, here goes my passion for old cars. For example, I love watching White Heat, not just because it’s a great movie with one of the best movie quotes of all times – “Made it Ma! Top of the world!” [No. 18 on the AFI list] – but because of the cars the gangsters and the cops drive.

the Jarrett gang getaway

The Jarrett gang getaway.

These are late ’40s whales, but I am mesmerized while watching Ma, desperate to dodge the cops, downshift and screech around the corner. The good guys, determined to stop the Jarrett gang, have access to all of the latest technology – like a radio transmitter the size of a satellite dish strapped to the roof of their car. I am so entranced by these images, I end up taking photos of the cars as I watch the movie.

My mini-obsession doesn’t stop there. I also collect photos of old cars. I mean, I’ll never be able to afford to buy one, let alone maintain one, so I might as well have a facsimile collection. Newspaper photos may be archaic one day, which means my “collection” will have value on eBay. Ha Ha. Anyway, remember I wrote about that car auction of famous people’s cars in my convertible post and a purple 1919 Pierce-Arrow, owned by the silent film star, Fatty Arbuckle? Here’s Fatty Arbuckle’s Pierce Arrow. Even the dullness of newsprint can’t dull down the lines and contours of this grand baby:Fatty's 1919 Pierce_Arrow copy

And, of course, I like old car shows, because I can take photographs of the real thing.

There is just something sexy about the rounded long hoods of 1940 sedans. They may have weighed a ton, but the devil was in the detail, such as the ornaments that graced the hoods.

the lady
Nice contrast to the mega-headlight orbs.
1942 Ford1947 Hudson copy

I am always discovering endearing features in old cars, like the massive steering wheels, or the the exotic boldness of the color option. It seems that by the late ’50s and early ’60s, car manufacturers found pastel. Pink seats, tri-color striped seats, and mustard yellow were quite coveted.blue interior car

pink seatsyellow steering wheel

Gas guzzlers they may have been, but the essential beauty of the design cannot be compared to the streamlined homogeneity of the modern car. There is just something aesthetically appealing, and intrinsically intriguing, about cars that were born between 1940 and 1963. (Sort of like us right-side-of-50ers.)

a cadillac

From the Left to the Right (of 50): Adjusting, Reversing, and Not Following, Directions

25 Monday Mar 2013

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"directions. information. reversible." Collage by Julie Seyler

“Directions. Information. Reversible.” Collage by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

One thing I’ve noticed about my late 50s is: change is possible. Directions I slavishly followed because they had been cast in stone years ago are easily reversed if they are dragging me down. Rules I loyally adhered to are tossed when they become too burdensome. Trapped revolving, icky information that used to take days to sift through is discarded in three hours. I don’t have the time or the energy to waste dwelling on the wrong side of things.  I adjust if necessary, and that is a benefit to moving further from the left side of 50.

"adjust if necessary". Collage by Julie Seyler

“Adjust if necessary.” Collage by Julie Seyler.

Of course, there is irony in the whole process.  Because as my inner psyche experiences this newfound freedom and liberation, my outer self is undergoing a cataclysm. It seems that the contours of my face and body are moving in a wildly different, quite unknown direction.  I guess there are always trade-offs.