Sunday, August 24, 2008

A Response to the film: Sketches of Frank Gehry

Watch the trailer for the film here:


I have seen a number of photographs and video glimpses of Frank Gehry’s architecture since I was a child. There was this period in the nineties that thrived on a style that was bold, not just in shape but also in color, futuristic, and a bit cartoon-like. I think a look at Pee-Wee’s playhouse sort of sums it up, but nevertheless, it had the same kind of animated quality and eye-puzzling slant, as do many Gehry’s earlier structure’s. I remember seeing some of Gehry’s work and thinking “that’s the future.” I took his work for granted, thinking that dozens of different architects were taking their creativity to this new level. Seeing the film Sketches of Frank Gehry resulted in, for me, an surprising discovery.

In the Fall of 2004, I visited the MOMA when it was temporarily being housed in Queens, New York. There, an architecture exhibit was in place, which had models of existing buildings and project buildings. I brought the brochure home, framed it, and hung it up so that my friends could also look at the designs and contemplate which of the projects they would choose. The fifth design on the brochure was no more than an erratic elongated scribble intended for the New York Times headquarters, a project sketch from 2000. No one that visited my home and looked at this sketch really understood it. It was incomprehensible, and it seemed laughable that it held considerable rank among the other more fully realized structures. After watching Sketches of Frank Gehry, I dug the framed brochure out of my closet, and realized the scribble was Gehry’s. The project structure on the brochure never made it to construction, but the film shed new light on the creative vision that is uniquely Gehry’s.

The Sketches of Frank Gehry documentary provides needed insight on how his unique scribbles get off paper and into the real world. The film, directed by the late Sydney Pollack, who confessed that he had little knowledge of architecture, successfully manages the perplexity of Gehry, asking the right questions, encouraging Gehry’s autobiographical dialogue and observing him in his chaotic thinking process, that which is emulated in his characteristic sketch. There’s also the element of celebrity and millionaire endorsement, which explains Gehry’s ability to task the unconventional, and it seems he is sought after for that very reason. What corporate project for a civic building wouldn’t want the draw of being one of Gehry’s infamous structures? The impact of his imagination realized, especially at this magnitude (esp. for the Guggenheim, Bilboa, Spain), lifts the basic platform of functional space design to a level that boasts creativity and purpose.

I’d like to own this film. I think it is somewhat over indulgent because it shows celebrities giving testimony saying they “had to have” one of his housing structures. Other than that, I still feel like his architectural achievement is definitely something to celebrate.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

The Rise of a Chinese Woman: Ch’en Shu (landscape artist)

The great landscape painters of pre-modern China were mostly men. Painting was a desirable skill that was reserved for intellectuals and others who were ranked highly in Chinese society. Women painters of China during this period typically painted floral motifs and garden scenes. Further, many of theses women were courtesans and concubines who had learned the art of painting from their gentleman partners or from other courtesans. According to Flowering in the Shadows, a book devoted to women painters of China, approximately 31,200 entries have been made on behalf of Yu’s biographical dictionary of Chinese historical artists and only 1,046 have been determined to be women (Weidner and Laing 81). One Chinese woman in particular succeeded in being a Chinese landscape and floral painter without resorting to the lifestyle of a courtesan. Like many Chinese women artists Ch’en Shu painted floral genre scenes, but her landscape paintings were among her most desired works. These works included copies of the mastered works of Wang Meng’s, Reading the I-Ching in the Mountain Study and Dwelling in the Summer Mountains. Ch’en Shu was a woman of the gentry class during the 17th century Ch’ing, or otherwise named Qing, dynasty. Ch’en Shu was a traditional woman by means of caring for her family but exceptional in that she was eventually permitted education in reading, record keeping, and poetry writing. Her presence in 16th century Chinese art exemplifies a lifetime of achievement through motherhood and art.

Ch’en Shu’s beginnings were rooted in the good fortune of Ch’en K’rang-po’s military success, her father’s noble acts, and in the mythical presence of the god of literature. Ch’en K’rang-po’s was an ancestor of Ch’en Shu’s who served as an official during the Sung dynasty. He was largely responsible for the invasion of the Chin forces, and he was rewarded handsomely with a mansion in the town of Hsiu-chou during the Hsüan period (1119-1125 CE). The property give to Ch’en K’rang-po became known as the Chekiang province, which is where Ch’en Shu and her family resided in accordance with generations of the Ch’en family (Weidner and Laing 124). Ch’en Shu’s father was not quite as historically significant as his predecessors. Ch’en Yao-hsün was not credited as an artist, nor known to have practiced the skill, but he was an educated man mentioned in the chapter of “Filial and Loyal” in the prefectural gazetteer (Weidner and Laing 125). One deed that led to this honorary title involved the refurbishing of the image of the god of literature and it’s temple, which was near the Chekiang province. The temple was in much need of restoration. Ch’en Yao-hsün responded to the negligence of the temple after dreaming that he was called to do so by the god. Ch’en Shu was born on the same day of the god of literature (the third day of the second month), which was not considered coincidence. Instead, it was believed to be a supernatural event in honor of her father. According to Flowing in the Shadows:
“The recounting of supernatural events is not uncommon in traditional Chinese biographies, but in the case of Ch’en Shu
these tales may have been told, in part, to explain her unusual development to scholarly occupations regarded by some as
unsuitable for women.” (Weidner and Laing 125)
She was noted to have been a “precocious child”, but maintained a quiet demeanor as was expected of a young Chinese girl. She wanted to become educated, but was not permitted to go to school. Instead, she was taught to sew and learn the appropriate skills of a desirable marital partner. In order to compensate for her lack of formal education, she would ask boys in her family to tell her of their readings from school, which she would memorize. Ch’en Shu began copying paintings of the Classics and calligraphy shortly thereafter. She was discouraged from doing this by her mother, who once punished her for perfectly copying a famous painting that hung on the wall of her father’s studio. Her father was fond of her talents and quoted for saying, “It is a pity she’s female. Were she male she would exalt the family name.” (Weidner and Laing 125) Unfortunately, he died before witnessing his daughter’s achievements.

Though Ch’en Shu was eager to become an intellectual and successful painter, she also succeeded in becoming a dutiful wife and homemaker. She married Ch’ien Lun-kuang who was a teacher of general discipline. Like her father, Ch’ien Lun-kuang graduated from the National University and did not pursue further education. He had a reputation for being a calligrapher and poet, which allowed for them to share artistic interest. The Ch’ien family was very pleased with her because she actively sought to help the family prosper. She was very devoted to her mother-in-law, who was persistently ill, and she also settled a debtor who wanted to make a claim against her brother-in-law’s son (Weidner and Laing 126). Ch’ien Lun-kuang left to provide further care for his elder parents, which led to Ch’en Shu assuming responsibility to educate their three sons. They also had a daughter, but in Chinese tradition she was not taught the same curriculum as the boys. She successfully taught their sons. The youngest son, Ch’ien Chieh, earned a living in government as a district magistrate. The middle son, Ch’ien Feng, earned a living as an assistant instructor at the Confucian school. Her only daughter married a gentleman who, like her brother, also became a district magistrate. Her oldest son, Ch’en-ch’ün, became a gradute around the age of fourteen. Ch’en-ch’ün was interested in promoting accounts of his mother’s life and is responsible for spreading the historical accounts of her through his writings. Furthermore, he introduced her paintings to emperor Ch’ien-lung. Later, many of these paintings became part of the Ch’ing imperial collection (Weider and Laing 123). He studied An Ch’i’s collection of paintings and calligraphy. “Perhaps Ch’ien Ch’en-ch’ün presented An Ch’I with paintings by his mother; the late Ch’ing collector Shao Sung-nien owned an album of ten landscapes after the old masters by Ch’en Shu that was marked with An Ch’i’s seals.” (Weidner and Laing 127)
Once Ch’en Shu’s children were grown she was able to invest more time into painting.
The expectations that Ch’en Shu’s own father might have had of her, were she a male, were somehow realized regardless of her gender through imperial designation.

Ch’en Shu was talented in painting a number of subjects, and she preferred painting on the subjects of history and religion. One of the first known works presented to the emperor include an album called Precepts of the Emperors of Successive Dynasties.
“This album, which apparently is no longer extant, was placed in the ‘superior’ category by the cataloguers of the imperial art collection. It opened with images of the lengendary Fu Hsi and Shen Nung, proceeded through emperors of the Chou, Han, and T’ang dynasties and concluded with T’ai-tsu of the Sung period. The figures were described in color on silk, and Ch’ien Ch’en- ch’ün wrote explanatory notes on the facing pages.” (Weidner and Laing 130).

In accordance with her interest in religious attribution she painted Kuan-yin, a bodhisattva. The painting was done as a hanging scroll in ink and light color on paper. It depicts a thickly robed bodhisattva sitting on a flat space that appears to be the edge of a body of water. There is a void of space to the left of the painting, which is not quite as distinguished as the master of voided space, Ma Yuan, and his one corner approach. However, it definitely keeps with the simplicity of Chinese painting figure painting. “The rocks are described with dark, modulated outlines, broad wash, and a few ‘axe-cut’ brush strokes in a manner ultimately based on academic landscape painting of the Southern Sung period…” However, other stylistic approaches to it, such as the “fluid drawing of wavy contours” on Kuan-yin’s robe, are reminiscent of popular artists whom portrayed religious figures in the late-Ming and early Ch’ing. The painting is thought to have been offered to the empress as a birthday gift by Ch’en Shu’s son, Ch’ien Ch’en-ch’ün. Later, the emperor added a poem to the painting and marked it with ten imperial seals, otherwise known as “chop marks”. It reads:
“Shang-yüan ti-tzu Ch’en Shu, imitating the brush methods of Tso-men Sun Shan-jen, respectfually painted the image of
the Universal Door Bodhisattva come forth from the sea. On the third day of the second month of spring in the fifty-
second year of the K’ang-hsi period [1713].” (Weidner and Laing 130)
The poem’s recollection of the “third day of the second month” may be attributed to Ch’en Shu’s birthday, but it is not clearly stated.

The emperor Ch’ien-lung’s enjoyment of art was the result of a period in which he too practiced painting, though calligraphy was a “professional responsibility” as emperor. Therefore, he took to “expressing admiration and pride of ownership” through applying calligraphy that expanded on these ideas directly on the works of art themselves. He began doing this when he was just a prince, which came to annoy the subsequent art critics. (Kahn 135) The emperor also wrote a poem in calligraphy on a painting done by Yüan artist Wang Meng, otherwise known as Wang Shu-ming, which was likely the most influential artist to Ch’en Shu’s style in landscape painting. (Kahn 137) A scroll that she painted in the style of Wang Meng was considered “a work of superior quality” and documented as such in the Ch’ing imperial collection in 1745. (Weidner and Laing 132)
Ch’en Shu’s favoritism for Wang Meng and her reproductions of his works led to her own success as her landscapist.
“Ch’en Shu employed the forms and arrangement invented by Wang Meng, but did not capture all of the grandeur and remoteness of his scenes. In her versions the mountains are smaller in proportion to the foreground trees; the middlegrounds have been compressed to bring the distant mountains closer to the viewer; and the vistas are complicated by the addition of distant peaks.”

There are few surviving works of Ch’en Shu that illustrate her use of technique compared to Wang Meng better than Dwelling in the Mountains on a Summer Day. This painting portrays a rocky mountainous scene with several tree lines and a winding stream edging off the right of the paper. Her imitations of his works may have been done of copies of the works rather than Wang Meng originals. “The lulling abstract patterns of the brushstrokes are better compared to those found in some of the landscapes in old manners by artists of the orthodox school.” (Weidner and Laing 133) Ch’en Shu’s Dwelling in the Mountains on a Summer Day and The Mountains Are Quiet and the Days Grow Long, which are both imitations of Wang Meng’s work, were thought of highly by the emperor. In fact, he wrote on both of them with calligraphy and decorated them with imperial seals.
Ch’en Shu was not always complacent about inscription when it came to her landscape paintings. After all, she studied poetry and married a poet. She once inscribed this on a painting imitating Wang Meng’s Reading the I-ching in a Mountain Study:
“Grasping the brush I wished to imitate Shu-ming’s [Wang Meng] Reading the I-ching in a Mountain Study; but trusting my hand, unexpectedly I incorporated the brush methods of the old master Shih-t’iens [Shen Chou]. Arriving at this peaceful, secluded place, in the hottest days of summer, I am able to forget the heat. Fu-an Ch’en Shu at the age of seventy-five [1734].” (Weidner and Laing 136)

Shen Chou was another source of inspiration for Ch’en Shu as explained in her inscription. He led the Wu School of Suchou during the Ming dynasty. This influence can be remarked about in conjunction with the “dry, choppy strokes define[ing] somewhat awkward tree trunks; blunt round strokes create[ing] contrasting foliage patterns; and repeating straight lines drawn freehand characterize[ing] the simple buildings.” (Weidner and Laing 136) The Suchou style of painting lended to the contributions she made in floral painting.
According to Flowering in the Shadow’s, Ch’en Shu may best be remembered for her flower paintings. Still Ch’en Shu tends to practice painting by copying the works of former artists. In this case, she takes an approach comparable to that of the Wu school artists. She used color without lines when drawing organic figures, like that of Ch’en Shun who was another Suchou master. She based several other works after his, and proudly pressed a seal that stated her intended use of his methods of the paintings included in these albums (Weidner and Laing 143). She shared the same family name as he did, but no relation has been determined. Among her most famous floral paintings includes a pet bird, and the work is titled The White Cockatoo. In this scene, Ch’en Shu depicts a white bird that appears to be chained to an ancient perch, which is either apart of a tree or attached to it. The only indication of this comes from the extending tree limbs full of flowers on both the perch and another limb giving it vertical support in a backward “L” shape. She mentioned in the inscription of this painting that she was using methods used by the ancients, but she did not credit a particular artist as she had in previous inscriptions. It is alleged by Flowering in the Shadows that she may have modeled the cockatoo after the “Snowy-Garbed Maiden”, which was a cockatoo that belonged to a famous Tang dynasty imperial concubine, Tang Kuei-fi. Unique to Ch’en Shu’s other works, this painting is not marked by any other seal other than Ch’en Shu’s artist seal. (Weidner and Laing 143)

Ch’en Shu is an example of an able and talented woman during the Ch’ing dynasty, who in many ways can be regarded as a pioneer of pre-modern womanhood. She faced adversity through the means of seeking to be educated, and attempted to master what only men artists who preceded her had mastered. “She did not stand in the shadow of a male relative or husband…” (Weidner and Laing 147) Furthermore, she progressed in these endeavors after ensuring that her children received a proper upbringing so that they too could become successful in society. Perhaps, she learned a bit more about her potential place in society by teaching them.

All of works that have been mentioned by Ch’en Shu survived through the collapse of the Ch’ing dynasty and have moved from the Imperial Collection to the present day Collection of the National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China. The White Cockatoo is an exception, which is kept at The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Works cited
Kahn, Harold L.. Monarchy in the Emperor's Eyes: Image and Reality in the Ch'ien-lung
Reign. 1st edition. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1971.
Weidner, Marsha and Ellen Johnston Laing. Flowering in the Shadows. 1st edition. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1990.