Norton Simon Art Foundation Norton Simon’s new exhibit
"To Do Battle" explores war’s conflicts.
“To Do Battle: Conflict, Struggle and Symbol in
Art” Norton Simon Museum (626) 449-6840 Through July
8
Pasadena’s Norton Simon Museum eagerly explores the dark
side of man through some of his most brilliant and enduring works
of art. “To Do Battle” currently haunts a series of
three rooms in the basement of the museum. Six thematic sections
are presented, each complete with an extensive introduction and
captions, making the details of the pieces more accessible and all
the more profound. The exhibit is a marriage of text and texture,
verbiage and visuals. First up is “Militant Icons,” a
collection dominated by an abundance of ancient sandstone and
limestone sculpture. These time-weary figures are mythic, most of
them of the Hindu or Greco-Roman persuasion. They face forward with
unmistakably confrontational postures. These ancient pieces are
striking because they have survived. There is something inherently
divine about their longevity. They point the way to “The
Struggle Between Men and Women,” a study of possession and
power between the sexes. The most striking piece is a bronze statue
by Giovanni da Bologna, entitled “Rape of a Sabine” (a
theme thrice visited in this section). It’s a dark, fluid
piece depicting a chiseled man and a supple woman who seems to
burst into flight in his arms. It embodies tension and balance, and
it casts a dramatic shadow on the wall. Also in the first room is
“The Conflict Between Man and Animal,” which features
an inordinate number of bullfights, including some black-and-white
lithographs by Picasso which effectively blur the line between man
and beast. “The Battle Piece” and the allegory-ridden
“Good Versus Evil” occupy the second room. Two
tremendous oils command the most attention, but this room also
houses a few of those ancient terra-cotta Greek vases and an
impressive 18th-century chess set from India, among other pieces.
“The Horrors of War” lurk in the final room, which
enjoys a noticeably lesser degree of patronage than the previous
two. Three separate series of black-and-white etchings (the work of
Francisco de Goya y Lucientes, Jacques Callot, and Georges Rouault)
are displayed. They depict the atrocities of war with painful
precision and harsh black strokes. These etchings seem to transcend
any sort of aesthetic criticism. They command hushed reverence
instead. The very last wall is devoted to four patriotic war
posters. One pair hails from the first World War, the other from
the second. Each is chock-full of icons and catch phrases that
seems almost obnoxiously colorful hanging beside the ominous
etchings. Refreshingly, the posters don’t come across as a
celebration of patriotism in this context. They simply reinforce
the message that we should make art, not war.
Kelly Haigh
“Amy Adler Photographs Leonardo DiCaprio”
UCLA Hammer Museu (310) 443-7000 Through April 28
A room full of Leonardo DiCaprio may be a little too much Leo
and not enough content at the same time. In this exhibit at the
Hammer, Amy Adler fills a room with six larger-than-life images of
DiCaprio, and nothing more. The actor, whose image still lingers
annoyingly after “Titanic,” makes viewers question the
artist’s choice among the talented variety of people who call
Los Angeles home. In addition, viewers unaware of Adler’s
painstaking, unique process to create the works, will simply find
the portraits dull and lacking in content. The art can be
appreciated at a higher level only after viewers realize the
pictures of DiCaprio are actually photographs of drawings. In the
process, Adler’s initial photos of DiCaprio are later made
into drawings, which are then photographed. This leads to the last
and somewhat more emotional stage where the photos and negatives
from the original photo shoot are destroyed along with the
drawings, leaving both artist and viewer farther from the real
image with each successive procedure. By taking pictures of these
drawings, Adler is trying to capture the mirror image of DiCaprio.
This distancing process creates a mirror effect. Instead of showing
Leo as he stands, the artwork produces the opposite effect of
mass-media images. The realization of this particularly clever
method and intriguing purpose enliven the photos and bring deeper
meaning and understanding to the artwork. However, there
isn’t any further symbolism to contemplate, and the drab
colors in the photos keep the exhibit dark. The sequence of images
also leave viewers wondering what Leonardo was thinking with the
perplexed expressions captured on his face. Adler’s process
is promising in attracting visitors, but the artwork itself falls
short of reflecting the former’s creativity.
Sophia Whang