I don't blog a lot, and mostly this blog is a supplement to my Twitter presence. But it is sometimes useful for sharing more verbose thoughts on a topic of fleeting interest, or for following up a Twitter conversation with more details or other information when somebody expresses an interest in a tweeted topic (often a recipe of some sort or another).
Today I've done a bit of housekeeping on the site. Mostly I've added some tabs at the top of the blog gathering together some topics which might otherwise never get seen again, until some random googler hits them. What would that be, perhaps once or twice per month?
So if you have interest in food-related chatter, my art series (which delved into the lives of twenty-one great artists of the past century and a half) or if you want to read some longer posts on rather pointless topics of my particular (& peculiar) interests, give the tab items above a click.
Meanwhile, this blog will continue forward with a minor post or three per year.
Ciao, from spring 2017.
Too Many Words™ on "Trust In Me"
In the series of Too Many Words™ posts this article explores a favourite jazz song. For other long reads on truly random topics, see the TooManyWords page.
I love the old jazz standard "Trust in Me" which has been a favourite of Jazz vocalists for the better part of a century. [Not to be confused with a more recent song of the same name that was used in the JungleBook Movie]. The jazz classic song dates all the way back to 1937, when penned by songwriters Ned Wever, Milton Ager, and Jean Schwartz but is probably best known as a 1960s hit for Etta James.
The first version I knew was the 1963 Dinah Washington one. It was on a compilation I acquired early in my burgeoning enthusiasm for Bebop jazz and grew on me as I came across other versions.
Washington's version is great for her trademark vocals. Though not as power-centric when compared against the energy of probably more-famous Etta James version, her more plaintive and understated style works well with the song's lyrical content. Where James evokes an almost hair-pulling frustration with her partner, Washington's is more of a late-night, heartfelt plea after a few drinks.
The recording is a bit strange, though. There's that little touch of misplaced reverb in the second stanza and orchestral accompaniment swells into a bit more of a 1940s feel than 1963 when it was recorded. But the brief trumpet piece before the bridge is pretty sweet, and worth the price admission.
Most notably, though, the ending of Washington's version is much more satisfying than is the Etta James arrangement, but more on that below the break. Have a listen:
The popular Etta James version of 1960 really nails it for raw emotion, and was suitably popular because of it. A modern listener can't help but think this is a little of the spirit that infected the latter-day, though already late, Amy Winehouse.
James starts the song soft, with almost a bit of a shy and raspy Billie Holiday feel. The recording is richer, warmer and more spacious.
Etta James gives us a plaintive lead-in but her tone quickly changes to punch the crap out of it. The band's horns don't really get involved until two thirds of the way through the song, but we're ready for them as James's pipes hit some notes worthy of a gritty trumpet solo.
The back-and-forth of her lows and highs takes us through a roller coaster of pleading, anger, lofty aspiration, and playfulness. It's that range that really sells it. Here's some playback from YouTube:
When you hear the power of her bridge, you think she has topped out, but she amps it up again in the last verse, going into the wrap up. But the arrangement ultimately disappoints in the wrap us, as all that power takes us nowhere. They opt for a rapid fade-out on her final pleas, rather than bring us to any sort of a conclusion, as Washington did so much more effectively.
I don't know the details of why there were two strong versions of the same song so close together – Washington's debuting three years after the James hit. Perhaps battling record companies? Washington's version was on Mercury vs. James released on the Argo label.
The song has some serious roots though. When we hear a remake of a song these days, we may think of it as a more modern thing – the recycling an old hit to try and cash in with a new generation. Of course that's a well oiled machination of the recording industry. And who can begrudge an artist inspired by a classic song, as long as they can do something new with it.
The original song came from the New York songwriting team Wever, Ager, Schwartz. They joined up from disparate backgrounds, originating from their respective New York, Chicago and Budapest origins.
The song hit for them in 1937 with a singer sporting that oh-so-marketable name Mildred Bailey. Have a listen to how it originally sounded:
The arrangement Bailey sings follows a more classic structure, beginning with a lead-in verse that gets dropped in later hit recordings. It evoked for me the feel of Hoagy Carmichael's infectious "Buttermilk Sky" (or the other way around, as his song is ten years later). The music is gentle, understated, and horn-centric, with an early jazz/ragtime feel. Both the trumpet and sax performances shine.
That opening verse provides some back story for her approach to her untrusting partner. It evokes more of a sense of a couple braving the wilds while homesteading in a frontier town. The edgier 1960s versions speak more of smokey jazz club infidelities and night life.
But the history of this song is broader than this in both directions. There was a strangely accented, mid-forties version by 'Hadda Brooks' (hear it on 78rpm record). While the vocal is strange, the music is very good. And it's the first recording I know of that drops that intro verse.
Two men recorded versions too - both Eddie Fisher and Louis Jordan recorded in a previous round in 1951. The Eddie Fisher version is really terrible. It features over-the-top choral background vocals more suited to a Walt Disney animation soundtrack. and a monotonously emotionless delivery by Fisher.
I haven't heard Louis Jordan's version - but his big-band really swings, so it would be interesting to see what he did with it.
Our modern celebrated Beyoncé did a version for a movie about a record industry. It didn't work out so well.
I'll let you decide for yourself, but she tries way too hard, rendering her attempt thin and forgettable.
She opens okay with a soft delivery, but quickly goes off the rails. She's not helped by the pathetic orchestration. The bad sounds just one step up from a shopping-mall Casio 'orchestra in a keyboard' system.
After the first stanza, she seems to think listeners will lose interest if she doesn't add some gimmick or flourish to every other word. It's at its worst nearing the end, where every second word seems to need a growl.
"Have they noticed my growl? I can do more. How's this?" It's like she noticed that brief note in Etta James's voice, and tries desperately to find it herself. More is less, and there's much less there.
And the ending of this arrangement is even worse that the decision to fade out Etta James. The low energy back-up music does a fade out, but Beyoncé's lyrics just stop as if she dropped her sheet music rather than with any sort of intentional wrap up. No finesse there.
But you don't listen to Beyoncé for her classic jazz attempts. Here, have a little Lemonade.
Lots of other lesser known modern singers have had a shot at singing "Trust in Me." It's not unusual to hear it at your local jazz club. I'm sure there will be another big-name attempt when someone comes up with a new take on the classic piece.
Browse YouTube for some other treatments. For example there is this longer rendition with expanded verses which you won't usually hear outside a live club setting. This is an east coast American club singer name Shirleta Settles on there – worth a listen, in spite of the cheezy lounge chatter she throws in for her audience.
The theme is thoroughly recognizable, so it'll often get an instrumental treatment by a jazz trio here and there. This version from Thelonious Monk and Clark Terry isn't too bad a listen.
Ultimately, it'll be hard to out-do the Washington and James treatments. But I'm always game to hear another take on it. Given that the song emerged in the 1930s, I'm not sure many modern songs will ever be able to claim such longevity.
I love the old jazz standard "Trust in Me" which has been a favourite of Jazz vocalists for the better part of a century. [Not to be confused with a more recent song of the same name that was used in the JungleBook Movie]. The jazz classic song dates all the way back to 1937, when penned by songwriters Ned Wever, Milton Ager, and Jean Schwartz but is probably best known as a 1960s hit for Etta James.
The first version I knew was the 1963 Dinah Washington one. It was on a compilation I acquired early in my burgeoning enthusiasm for Bebop jazz and grew on me as I came across other versions.
Washington's version is great for her trademark vocals. Though not as power-centric when compared against the energy of probably more-famous Etta James version, her more plaintive and understated style works well with the song's lyrical content. Where James evokes an almost hair-pulling frustration with her partner, Washington's is more of a late-night, heartfelt plea after a few drinks.
The recording is a bit strange, though. There's that little touch of misplaced reverb in the second stanza and orchestral accompaniment swells into a bit more of a 1940s feel than 1963 when it was recorded. But the brief trumpet piece before the bridge is pretty sweet, and worth the price admission.
Most notably, though, the ending of Washington's version is much more satisfying than is the Etta James arrangement, but more on that below the break. Have a listen:
The popular Etta James version of 1960 really nails it for raw emotion, and was suitably popular because of it. A modern listener can't help but think this is a little of the spirit that infected the latter-day, though already late, Amy Winehouse.
James starts the song soft, with almost a bit of a shy and raspy Billie Holiday feel. The recording is richer, warmer and more spacious.
Etta James gives us a plaintive lead-in but her tone quickly changes to punch the crap out of it. The band's horns don't really get involved until two thirds of the way through the song, but we're ready for them as James's pipes hit some notes worthy of a gritty trumpet solo.
The back-and-forth of her lows and highs takes us through a roller coaster of pleading, anger, lofty aspiration, and playfulness. It's that range that really sells it. Here's some playback from YouTube:
When you hear the power of her bridge, you think she has topped out, but she amps it up again in the last verse, going into the wrap up. But the arrangement ultimately disappoints in the wrap us, as all that power takes us nowhere. They opt for a rapid fade-out on her final pleas, rather than bring us to any sort of a conclusion, as Washington did so much more effectively.
I don't know the details of why there were two strong versions of the same song so close together – Washington's debuting three years after the James hit. Perhaps battling record companies? Washington's version was on Mercury vs. James released on the Argo label.
The song has some serious roots though. When we hear a remake of a song these days, we may think of it as a more modern thing – the recycling an old hit to try and cash in with a new generation. Of course that's a well oiled machination of the recording industry. And who can begrudge an artist inspired by a classic song, as long as they can do something new with it.
The original song came from the New York songwriting team Wever, Ager, Schwartz. They joined up from disparate backgrounds, originating from their respective New York, Chicago and Budapest origins.
The song hit for them in 1937 with a singer sporting that oh-so-marketable name Mildred Bailey. Have a listen to how it originally sounded:
The arrangement Bailey sings follows a more classic structure, beginning with a lead-in verse that gets dropped in later hit recordings. It evoked for me the feel of Hoagy Carmichael's infectious "Buttermilk Sky" (or the other way around, as his song is ten years later). The music is gentle, understated, and horn-centric, with an early jazz/ragtime feel. Both the trumpet and sax performances shine.
That opening verse provides some back story for her approach to her untrusting partner. It evokes more of a sense of a couple braving the wilds while homesteading in a frontier town. The edgier 1960s versions speak more of smokey jazz club infidelities and night life.
But the history of this song is broader than this in both directions. There was a strangely accented, mid-forties version by 'Hadda Brooks' (hear it on 78rpm record). While the vocal is strange, the music is very good. And it's the first recording I know of that drops that intro verse.
Two men recorded versions too - both Eddie Fisher and Louis Jordan recorded in a previous round in 1951. The Eddie Fisher version is really terrible. It features over-the-top choral background vocals more suited to a Walt Disney animation soundtrack. and a monotonously emotionless delivery by Fisher.
I haven't heard Louis Jordan's version - but his big-band really swings, so it would be interesting to see what he did with it.
Our modern celebrated Beyoncé did a version for a movie about a record industry. It didn't work out so well.
I'll let you decide for yourself, but she tries way too hard, rendering her attempt thin and forgettable.
She opens okay with a soft delivery, but quickly goes off the rails. She's not helped by the pathetic orchestration. The bad sounds just one step up from a shopping-mall Casio 'orchestra in a keyboard' system.
After the first stanza, she seems to think listeners will lose interest if she doesn't add some gimmick or flourish to every other word. It's at its worst nearing the end, where every second word seems to need a growl.
"Have they noticed my growl? I can do more. How's this?" It's like she noticed that brief note in Etta James's voice, and tries desperately to find it herself. More is less, and there's much less there.
And the ending of this arrangement is even worse that the decision to fade out Etta James. The low energy back-up music does a fade out, but Beyoncé's lyrics just stop as if she dropped her sheet music rather than with any sort of intentional wrap up. No finesse there.
But you don't listen to Beyoncé for her classic jazz attempts. Here, have a little Lemonade.
Lots of other lesser known modern singers have had a shot at singing "Trust in Me." It's not unusual to hear it at your local jazz club. I'm sure there will be another big-name attempt when someone comes up with a new take on the classic piece.
Browse YouTube for some other treatments. For example there is this longer rendition with expanded verses which you won't usually hear outside a live club setting. This is an east coast American club singer name Shirleta Settles on there – worth a listen, in spite of the cheezy lounge chatter she throws in for her audience.
The theme is thoroughly recognizable, so it'll often get an instrumental treatment by a jazz trio here and there. This version from Thelonious Monk and Clark Terry isn't too bad a listen.
Ultimately, it'll be hard to out-do the Washington and James treatments. But I'm always game to hear another take on it. Given that the song emerged in the 1930s, I'm not sure many modern songs will ever be able to claim such longevity.
Zuppa della Something-or-Other
This is a very economical, yet filling dish that really appeals to me on cold autumn or winter nights. Easy to make it vegetarian too, though vegan might be a bit tougher, as it depends on a cheese that melts well.
Back story is that we were watching a documentary on the rural peoples of the Italian Alps, and someone in a small mountain village went through this in enough detail that I could reconstruct it later. Only problem was that I didn't remember the name, so we call it Zuppa Della Something-or-other.
We got some large & tasty, last-of-the-season cabbages at the farmer's market in a snow-storm for a dollar each, so the per-serving cost was pretty low. Fontina cheese is about $10 for a good sized chunk - so that's the main expense.
Ingredients
Cabbage (red or green) - about 1/3 to 1/2 of the head. Remove the core and slice
About a cup of cubed cheese. Authentic is using Fontina. Gouda works in a pinch.
About 2 cups of chicken broth (substitute veggy broth if so inclined)
Half of a French Bread stick/ baguette. Dried a bit is best. Cubed.
1/4 cup of butter
One onion - chopped
Two cloves of garlic - minced
Olive oil
Favourite Italianesque herbs (e.g. thyme, oregano etc).
Method & Notes
Cover the cabbage with water in a large pan and boil for a while until it's softened (about 15-20min).
Meanwhile, fry up the onion and garlic in olive oil, with the herbs thrown in too. Just cook until they are turning 'transparent'.
Get a large saucepan - I use the same one I boiled the cabbage in. Just drain the cabbage and then build up layers in the pot. Start with a layer of cabbage, use half the cheese and bread cubes, with half the onion/garlic mixture. Add another layer of cabbage. Then the rest of the bread, cheese and onion stuff. Then finish with the rest of the cabbage over top.
NEXT - you pour the chicken stock over the whole mixture.
THIS is a bit of an unusual point. Even though it's a 'soup' the goal isn't really to have a bunch of broth. If you peek down to the bottom of the pan there should be some broth there, but you aren't trying to fill it up. Adjust your broth amount accordingly.
FINALLY - take your butter in a small sauce pan and boil it up until it's frothy and you're getting some brown solids in it. Take that and drizzle it over the whole mixture in the pan.
Now heat it up until the layer of broth boils a bit, then let it simmer for 20minutes or so. Give it a stir or two during the process.
Serve in bowls. It goes well with toast too.
Be prepared - you'll want seconds.
Serves about 4 people pretty well. Sticks to ribs.
Back story is that we were watching a documentary on the rural peoples of the Italian Alps, and someone in a small mountain village went through this in enough detail that I could reconstruct it later. Only problem was that I didn't remember the name, so we call it Zuppa Della Something-or-other.
We got some large & tasty, last-of-the-season cabbages at the farmer's market in a snow-storm for a dollar each, so the per-serving cost was pretty low. Fontina cheese is about $10 for a good sized chunk - so that's the main expense.
Ingredients
Cabbage (red or green) - about 1/3 to 1/2 of the head. Remove the core and slice
About a cup of cubed cheese. Authentic is using Fontina. Gouda works in a pinch.
About 2 cups of chicken broth (substitute veggy broth if so inclined)
Half of a French Bread stick/ baguette. Dried a bit is best. Cubed.
1/4 cup of butter
One onion - chopped
Two cloves of garlic - minced
Olive oil
Favourite Italianesque herbs (e.g. thyme, oregano etc).
Method & Notes
Cover the cabbage with water in a large pan and boil for a while until it's softened (about 15-20min).
Meanwhile, fry up the onion and garlic in olive oil, with the herbs thrown in too. Just cook until they are turning 'transparent'.
Get a large saucepan - I use the same one I boiled the cabbage in. Just drain the cabbage and then build up layers in the pot. Start with a layer of cabbage, use half the cheese and bread cubes, with half the onion/garlic mixture. Add another layer of cabbage. Then the rest of the bread, cheese and onion stuff. Then finish with the rest of the cabbage over top.
NEXT - you pour the chicken stock over the whole mixture.
THIS is a bit of an unusual point. Even though it's a 'soup' the goal isn't really to have a bunch of broth. If you peek down to the bottom of the pan there should be some broth there, but you aren't trying to fill it up. Adjust your broth amount accordingly.
FINALLY - take your butter in a small sauce pan and boil it up until it's frothy and you're getting some brown solids in it. Take that and drizzle it over the whole mixture in the pan.
Now heat it up until the layer of broth boils a bit, then let it simmer for 20minutes or so. Give it a stir or two during the process.
Serve in bowls. It goes well with toast too.
Be prepared - you'll want seconds.
Serves about 4 people pretty well. Sticks to ribs.
Making Sourdough Bread
I enjoy making all of the bread we use in our house. Mostly this is because I enjoy the craft of bread-making, and have for most of my adult years.
But there are ancillary benefits. I like knowing exactly what is in the stuff we are eating and controlling the levels of salt, fat and sugar. As well, reducing preservatives and additives which are great for shelf-life, but perhaps not so great for consumption is a benefit.
It is a very tactile and creative activity. I like to share what I can with those who are learning, trade stories with other experienced devotees, and learn from anyone who has ever made some good (or bad) bread.
When it comes to sharing the task is made more difficult as I haven't used recipes for bread making in a very long time. I know it sounds like I've been memorizing recipes and measurements, but in reality it is a more simple process than that. Once you learn the textures of the various stages, and learn to pay attention to the hydration level (ratio of flour to liquid) there isn't much complexity left. it's more technique and 'feel.'
The result is that you can use as many or as few ingredients as you wish. I've often made bread with simply flour, sourdough starter, and water. Though that's usually just me forgetting to add a bit of salt, which enhances the flavour a lot.
I like to share my sourdough starter around a bit within the community. I try to do so as much as logistics allow. This means I get to share the fun, but also, it gives me a path to replace my old friend if I accidentally kill it sometime through neglect or mishap. Sharing the enjoyment is my key goal, which is a fun thing unto itself.
I have a detailed sourdough primer (PDF) (updated 05/2020) I've been tweaking off and on a few years, so I'm happy to share that with anyone who wants to make their own and avoid some of more prescriptive online sources that dictate rigid schedules and regular divide and discard approaches. It's really not that hard, nor need it be wasteful. Hoping you can give it a try sometime.
Too Many Words™ on Twitter and Its Evolution
Twitter leadership had a challenging job to effectively monetize the popular service.
The emergence and initial success of Twitter was a bit of a lottery win in the first place. Throwing something together at the right moment in history was fortuitous. But the skills to sustain it and preserve its value did not come with the big novelty cheque.
They did a lot of things right: let the service catch on, and gradually build the advertising platform around it. The revenues continue to grow, and the advertising options appear to appeal to many.
Indeed, the level of advertising is beginning to be a bit intrusive at times, but it's generating substantial revenues, which should ensure the service remains around for a while. And there have been exorbitant rewards for the founders which seems appropriate as well, given that they were the ones who won that lottery. They got an application out at the right moment in history when users were ready for it, and sustained the plumbing to the point of critical mass. That's worth some reward.
But as we see Twitter leadership making, or suggesting, fundamentally bad directions forward, one gets the idea that they don't really understand the animal they've been training.
The cadre of designers and business enthusiasts that ended up with ownership of this popular microblogging site are possibly not the right ones to carry it forward. With a slightly different landscape, would a different team, with better long-term ideas have put together a similar short-message micro-blogging service a few months later to find themselves with the winning ticket? Likely. But regardless of who lays a house's foundation, they don't necessarily bring the skills necessary to make the village thrive.
Capabilities emerge based on the technologies that are available. Intuitively, certain elements get combined to produce applications. Low-cost, easy-access networking, plus an easy-to-use input means results in humans sharing things with each other. That was a natural progression out of Usenet and bulletin board roots. Blogging and short-post sharing became big and popular not because someone 'invented' Blogger, Wordpress, Tumblr or even MySpace, Friendster or another on-ramp, but because many of us were already doing similar things the hard way, or on a precursor platform. Gradually developers craft tools to increment the process, and make it easier. Those steps are more often about first-to-market, or occasionally best-to-market. Sadly, often good-enough is a stand-in for "best."
In the climate of fast moving tech, any ten small teams of people "skilled in the art" (as patent lawyers say) of posting text to websites would find it obvious how to make the process easier. You quickly end up with ten different-but-similar approaches. Given the right environment, all of them are basically functional and achieve the goal of users being able to do their thing. The offerings remaining after a few months are determined by factors such as ease-of-use, responsiveness, and depth-of-pockets to cover the hosting/operational costs to keep the service up.
Forming another ten such teams a month later would produce other workable, and not all that different services (beyond cosmetic colours and button placement). Indeed, in most cases there is no secret sauce, no mind-bending invention of clever design, no eureka moment of unique insight required to deliver the effective solution.
With Twitter this was the case. Given the existence, and heavy use of blogging, and thousands of service offerings coming and going, every variant of such a service gets explored. Every approach to inputting content and sharing it.
Input by SMS was the only mobile game in town, and a reasonable, useful and obvious approach. Indeed at that point in time, SMS was a popular, emerging on-ramp for many services. The yet-to-be-ubiquitous broadband service for mobile HTTP-based interfaces didn't exist yet.
The 140 character limit turned out to not only be 'good-enough' the experience of crafting concise messages inspired creativity and allowed certain talents to shine. It's a well known value among creative people, that spaces with difficult boundaries are often inspire more than blank, wide-open ones.
It was most certainly not design-intent in the creation of Twitter, but rather a side-effect of the available technology, with a very positive result. Illustrating that Twitter was not formed from a cauldron of deep, innovative genius has been the on-going handling of the product.
Don't get me wrong - there are clearly smart people doing innovative things in keeping the service up and responsive. Hard things too. Managing the infrastructure, implementing the interfaces to the specs handed to them by the feature design people. These are hard, time-consuming jobs. These are good and valuable skills and talents, and are key to any functioning Internet-based business. And when is the last time you saw the Twitter FailWhale? There is a robust service there.
But services have requirements beyond keeping everything functioning. While on-going spotty service can erode a business, getting the direction of the ship wrong can sink it just as easily.
At the conceptual level, some services can have a tendency to not understand the user. And here there seems to be constant blindness to the nuanced differences between Twitter and Facebook. Perhaps it's the pressures of a now-public company to fall into traps like looking purely at user numbers.
Those of us participating from the early days saw Facebook scurry about trying to force its rigid, closed structure into a more Twitter-like approach. Twitter's public timelines were fundamental to a rapid uptake of and broad integration into traditional media and broadly into the customer support business. Facebook had to work hard to try to enable some part of that attention, and still lags behind in that engagement.
Twitter is continually painting themselves into a "quantity not quality" corner when they get distracted by comparing their user-numbers with other social media platforms.
The fact is, that Twitter with boundaries self-sorts. Not everyone is capable of conveying meaningful information in 140 characters. Those able to say something concise, engaging and/or entertaining within the boundaries garner followers. Those who cannot may not get a broad following, but can still find value within a smaller peer group, and as a consumer - rather than generator - of content. They must focus on engaging the right kind of users, not just broad user numbers.
And some users (Twitter leadership doesn't get this) may not find value, interest or an outlet in the social-media variant that is Twitter. That's okay. Not everyone read the newspaper (when that was a thing). Many people don't watch TV news, nor listen to radio news, nor write letters to their cousin, nor blog. The service need not be all things to all people. And diluting or pandering to every perceived whim of any user does the service no favours.
Now rumours from the leadership brain trust suggest the destruction of the 140 character limit. Throwing open the doors to 10,000 chars, or no limits at all, has savvy Twitter users worried.
Savvy users understand the fundamental "less is more" nature of the service, and worry about its potential demise.
We've seen a long-standing concern regarding erosion of the chronological timeline as well. And still many wait for responsible changes, like dealing with harassment and hate tweets are not effectively implemented. And some well-needed simple elements like a short editing window (two minutes?) to fix typos are in high demand. (Some suggest allowing a small number of characters to be changed would provide the same value.)
Many are the epic tweets ruined by a small typo. Deep is the shame of content creator whose thoughtful and timely tweet - with potential for much sharing - is ruined by an autospell substitution error.
Can we see thoughtful changes that invest in enhancing the quality of Twitter rather than pandering towards a Facebook-like populist, lowest common denominator? That will take some leadership and understanding behind the platform's leadership.
It's not clear that the leaders who fortuitously found themselves with this platform are savvy users who understand what they have.
Article's Character count: 8372
Monday Morning Art Completes
Thanks for following the Monday Morning Art posts here, and the Twitter tweets with the associated hashtag.
With the end of the 2015 calendar year, and 20 posts under my belt, I'll stop here for now. It's been fun digging into the details of a bunch of artists, some well-known, others not so much. It has also been fun to expound on their works, influences and their evolution as artists over their lifetimes.
My analyses carry no weight beyond that of just-another-observer. If you disagreed with me or found a comment annoying - that's great. (This one really pissed people off for a while here in Ottawa.)
That is what art is for - invoking opinions and debate about ideas, images, and perspectives. Warm thoughts and happy sighs are just part of the opinion/experience spectrum. I hope there was a little bit of all-of-the-above here for you.
If a comment or two helped someone look at a piece a little bit differently, or introduced someone to a work or artist they didn't know before, that is reward enough.
With the end of the 2015 calendar year, and 20 posts under my belt, I'll stop here for now. It's been fun digging into the details of a bunch of artists, some well-known, others not so much. It has also been fun to expound on their works, influences and their evolution as artists over their lifetimes.
 |
| Alfred J Casson "White Village" (1938) |
My analyses carry no weight beyond that of just-another-observer. If you disagreed with me or found a comment annoying - that's great. (This one really pissed people off for a while here in Ottawa.)
That is what art is for - invoking opinions and debate about ideas, images, and perspectives. Warm thoughts and happy sighs are just part of the opinion/experience spectrum. I hope there was a little bit of all-of-the-above here for you.
 |
| Jackson Pollack's "Lucifer" (1947) |
If a comment or two helped someone look at a piece a little bit differently, or introduced someone to a work or artist they didn't know before, that is reward enough.
 |
| Maurits Cornelis Escher's Cat (1919) |
Monday Morning Art #20: Edvard Munch
This week's Monday Morning Art extravaganza comes by request. As the artist behind one of the most recognizable paintings of the past 150years, Edvard Munch was certainly on the radar for future attention, but with the request of Melissa (aka @eastcoastknits) I've bumped him up to debut on this pre-Xmas twitter-art episode today.
Before he produced his pivotal piece(s) in the final decade of the 19th century, Munch plied his craft through the usual processes of realism that matures into more personalized expression. There are often interesting hints of what is to come in such early works.
The Norwegian artist explored his style under the influence of his contemporaries or course, and later some influential time in Paris. At times his pieces drift into echoes of Renoir (Sick Child), Pissaro (River at St. Cloud) or Manet.
This early (1883) portrait of a young woman kindling a fire is a nice piece that could as easily be an Andrew Wyeth from 80 years later. He captures the figure lovingly and freezes the moment very well, with the hint of orange warmth radiating out from the growing fire in the stove.
There is an on-going interest in the bold diagonal element to his compositions, sometimes evocative of Degas. Indeed his portrait of Writer Hans Jaeger is quite evocative of the famous "Glass of Absinthe." A look over many of Munch's works show the dominant diagonal to guide the viewer's eye.
But soon Munch layers his representational semi-impressionist compositions with a surrealist edge and a despair that creates a deeper level of interest.
His self portrait as a young man of 22 in 1886 reveals a more visceral quality. The contrasts and the expression captured are of a combined defiance and ambition.
In the 1890s Munch is in his prime as an artist, producing many notable pieces. Sure, a few sunsets - this one appearing very much like a Monet sketch, but other pieces hint at troubled times.
He approaches the pivotal year of 1893 when is likely troubled by mental illness difficulties and will reflect that in a few pivotal pieces.
The bridge over a fjord serves as a backdrop for many Munch pieces. One must consider the symbolism in the bridge - perhaps stretching between normality and despair, positive and negative, humanity and nature.
His painting "Despair" touches on what is to come the next year. It likely depicts the same incident he describes later as the situation of his 'Scream" work. He says he was unspeakably tired under a red sky, stopping on the bridge over the fjord. In a feeling of desperation, and as his friends continued to walk on he saw the vibrant sunset and the blue waters, and felt that nature itself was screaming out to him.
In 1893 he creates his first version of "The Scream" in a pastel drawing.
He recreates the piece in 1895 as a pastel again, and then in various other media over the coming years. The 1893 version is shown here. The '95 was sold recently for almost $120M. The rest of the versions remain in Norwegian museums where they are apparently periodically stolen, with minor damage.
While Munch later describes himself as "quite mad" for several years after this period, he still manages to produce interesting pieces. This landscape of is from 1899 and is very evocative of a Monet sunset.
He has some exhibit success and positive regard from his shows. He lives in Paris in the late 1890s - how could that not but have a positive affect on an artist? What a time to be alive, and what a place to be. He returns to Norway, and travels to Italy, and has a somewhat stable relationship. Spoiler alert - it doesn't last, ends badly, with rivalries, gunshots and and injured fingers, apparently, in the process.
But still some interesting work. Isn't it always the way with troubled artists. His portrait of a Fisherman in 1902 is an interesting work. The colours and light are quite engaging.
He had both popular and financial success with pieces depicting a sick child as well.
I also enjoyed this landscape from 1903 of "The Forest" where he seems to feel something akin to what Emily Carr puts into her work in the decade that follows.
Following this are even more troubled years for the artist, with heavy drinking and brawling a part of his life, and continued descriptions of paranoia, but finally some concerted attention to therapy as well. There are somewhat positive results with treatment in Munich and a return to Norway in '09 sees an improvement in his ability to work.
Edvard Munch continues to interweave works of despair and angst in works like "Nude I" in 1913 and "The Murderer" of 1910 with more pastoral scenes of workers in a forest (The Lumberjack 1913) and "History" from 1911.
The first war is difficult for him, with mixed loyalties between his love for France and friends in Germany. He contracts, but survives the pandemic Spanish Flu of 1918.
I like his work "The Wave" from 1921 particularly. He captures still sometime malevolent in a strong onshore wind, but also the dazzling colour of the landscape.
Munch lives to 1944 and dies in
Before he produced his pivotal piece(s) in the final decade of the 19th century, Munch plied his craft through the usual processes of realism that matures into more personalized expression. There are often interesting hints of what is to come in such early works.
The Norwegian artist explored his style under the influence of his contemporaries or course, and later some influential time in Paris. At times his pieces drift into echoes of Renoir (Sick Child), Pissaro (River at St. Cloud) or Manet.This early (1883) portrait of a young woman kindling a fire is a nice piece that could as easily be an Andrew Wyeth from 80 years later. He captures the figure lovingly and freezes the moment very well, with the hint of orange warmth radiating out from the growing fire in the stove.
There is an on-going interest in the bold diagonal element to his compositions, sometimes evocative of Degas. Indeed his portrait of Writer Hans Jaeger is quite evocative of the famous "Glass of Absinthe." A look over many of Munch's works show the dominant diagonal to guide the viewer's eye.But soon Munch layers his representational semi-impressionist compositions with a surrealist edge and a despair that creates a deeper level of interest.
His self portrait as a young man of 22 in 1886 reveals a more visceral quality. The contrasts and the expression captured are of a combined defiance and ambition.
In the 1890s Munch is in his prime as an artist, producing many notable pieces. Sure, a few sunsets - this one appearing very much like a Monet sketch, but other pieces hint at troubled times. He approaches the pivotal year of 1893 when is likely troubled by mental illness difficulties and will reflect that in a few pivotal pieces.
The bridge over a fjord serves as a backdrop for many Munch pieces. One must consider the symbolism in the bridge - perhaps stretching between normality and despair, positive and negative, humanity and nature.
His painting "Despair" touches on what is to come the next year. It likely depicts the same incident he describes later as the situation of his 'Scream" work. He says he was unspeakably tired under a red sky, stopping on the bridge over the fjord. In a feeling of desperation, and as his friends continued to walk on he saw the vibrant sunset and the blue waters, and felt that nature itself was screaming out to him.
In 1893 he creates his first version of "The Scream" in a pastel drawing.He recreates the piece in 1895 as a pastel again, and then in various other media over the coming years. The 1893 version is shown here. The '95 was sold recently for almost $120M. The rest of the versions remain in Norwegian museums where they are apparently periodically stolen, with minor damage.
While Munch later describes himself as "quite mad" for several years after this period, he still manages to produce interesting pieces. This landscape of is from 1899 and is very evocative of a Monet sunset.
He has some exhibit success and positive regard from his shows. He lives in Paris in the late 1890s - how could that not but have a positive affect on an artist? What a time to be alive, and what a place to be. He returns to Norway, and travels to Italy, and has a somewhat stable relationship. Spoiler alert - it doesn't last, ends badly, with rivalries, gunshots and and injured fingers, apparently, in the process.
But still some interesting work. Isn't it always the way with troubled artists. His portrait of a Fisherman in 1902 is an interesting work. The colours and light are quite engaging.He had both popular and financial success with pieces depicting a sick child as well.
I also enjoyed this landscape from 1903 of "The Forest" where he seems to feel something akin to what Emily Carr puts into her work in the decade that follows.
Following this are even more troubled years for the artist, with heavy drinking and brawling a part of his life, and continued descriptions of paranoia, but finally some concerted attention to therapy as well. There are somewhat positive results with treatment in Munich and a return to Norway in '09 sees an improvement in his ability to work.
Edvard Munch continues to interweave works of despair and angst in works like "Nude I" in 1913 and "The Murderer" of 1910 with more pastoral scenes of workers in a forest (The Lumberjack 1913) and "History" from 1911.
The first war is difficult for him, with mixed loyalties between his love for France and friends in Germany. He contracts, but survives the pandemic Spanish Flu of 1918. I like his work "The Wave" from 1921 particularly. He captures still sometime malevolent in a strong onshore wind, but also the dazzling colour of the landscape.
Munch lives to 1944 and dies in
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