Sunday, we hung 18 of the artists portraits, moving a huge black Asian folding screen into the media room to accommodate the art. It looks wonderful. Now when you walk into the great room, you are immediately greeted with all these fabulous creative faces - it's such an energy boost!
Poor Vincent. He died from a self-inflicted gun shot wound because he felt like a total failure. Finishing his story last night was so depressing....it put me into a little funk. So I picked up a book on Frank Stella, an elitist Princeton graduate who started with extremely simple geometric abstractions executed in a large scale. The work I really love, are his huge 3D paintings, first begun in the 1970s and created with fiberglass, etched magnesium and aluminum, sheet steel, and canvas. He said he needed something he felt worthy painting on. And he was lucky to have the gift of structure so he constructed paintings, exploited something that modernism had not experienced - picture building. These sculptural masterpieces are something to embrace if you have not had the opportunity. But they are paintings, never the less.
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