Clearly I’m a bit behind on the art writeups here. I was at the opening for the DeCordova’s drawing show, “Drawn to Detail” with erstwhile museum buddy L some weeks ago. As usual, the opening was way too crowded to really see the work, but I did run into some nice art scene folks and even some of the artists. Oddly, I was mistaken for one of them twice. I came back a few days later to have a quieter look at the work and also to pick up the catalog, something I seldom do. The show is still up and I suggest you get over there and have a look right away. The sculpture garden is exceptionally beautiful in fall, too.
Drawn to Detail is comprised of works by more than 20 artists, each working in a medium that could be called drawing. Some are more clearly making marks on paper with ink, and some are doing things that are less traditionally categorized. All are working in highly detailed, often repetitive, possibly compulsive and sometimes conceptual modes. I won’t try to discuss every artist in the show, but here are a few that caught my fancy.
Martha Lewis‘ work is less obsessive and repetitive than that of some of her gallery-mates, but it’s no less interesting. She draws on the visual language of floor plans, circuit diagrams, mechanical and engineering schematics and more to create collage-like works that echo Wright and Mondrian with a touch of futurism and machine-age constructivism.
Tadashi Moriyama’s work reminds me of that of Adolf Wolfli (a poster child for “art of the insane” who was institutionalized most of his life) in its naivety and also its apocalyptic incantory repetition. I wonder if Moriyama is channeling such images consciously or simply conducting his subconscious directly onto the paper.
Andrea Sulzer showed two wall-sized drawings, each about 8 feet square and simply pinned to the walls unglazed and unframed. It was a bit unnerving to be so close to the naked paper and ink, but that’s the best way to experience a drawing, isn’t it? Sulzer’s work looks like a big abstraction from a distance, but as you get closer and let the drawing fill your visual field, you start to see bits of figurative elements inside the sweeping compositions.
Martin Wilner makes long accordion sketchbooks that capture new york city subway rides in a dense mass of talk bubbles and limbs. Far more figurative than most of the rest of the show, Wilner’s drawings do a great job of conveying a particular experience
Daniel Zeller’s work is like the organic foil to Martha Lewis’ harder-edged scientific imagery. Zeller makes images that are inspired by weather maps, anatomical illustration, microscopy and elevation maps. They look like living organisms somehow captured up close or maps of hidden attributes like the migration patters of unseen insects or the flow of unknown currents through terrain.
Looking at the show made me think of how people once classified as insane and locked away are better understood and integrated into society today. Asperger syndrome and autism are all over the mainstream media, the idea of the “idiot savant” is discredited but our appreciation for people who process the world very differently is much greater. Popular television characters have all kinds of once-shadowy conditions, like obsessive-compulsive disorder. I don’t mean to say there’s something wrong with any of the artists in this show, but simply that the idea of what behavior gets classified as “something wrong with” isn’t what it used to be, and that’s probably good. Artists whose work engages with these themes no longer has to get lumped with “outsider art” or “art of the insane.” Judge for yourself. Get over to Lincoln right away.
And if you can’t get to Lincoln, look into the DeCordova’s YMOD group’s SoWa Art Walk on October 23.
What the Fluff? was postponed due to rain, so naturally we headed off to East Boston to a red sauce joint we’d never visited before, Rino’s place. Wouldn’t you? The party was joined by several members of the Josephine crew, Chef J (whose issues with red sauce are well documented), professor J and probably somebody I’m neglecting, for which I apologize. If you don’t have a limeduck epithet, contact me right away to get one.
I’m not really sure how we selected Rino’s, but it certainly wasn’t the website, which claims, among other things, “RINO’S IS KNOWN FOR IT’S WONDERFUL RED SAUCE, THIN CUT OF VEAL AND FISTS SIZE RAVIOLIS MADE TO ORDER.” yowza. They do a swift business in carryout as well as dine in. We upped our party from six to seven at the last minute and had to wait in the rain another hour for it.
Foolishly, we ordered appetizers (and some underwhelming red wine), including a monstrous but super-fresh caprese salad and some delicious and tender baby octopus in a deep red sauce. When ordering the apps, we were asked to confirm if we wanted app or entree size. God help us if we had ordered entree size. I needed a wide-angle adapter just to get the plate all in the frame.
For mains, just about everybody had pasta, most of it red, from the bolognese to the (pictured left) rabbit ragu with papardelle. (That was me of course, since I’m on a rabbit and duck kick these days. The rabbit was tender and complemented by some diced carrots, celery and onion for an autumnal feeling, and the papardelle were al dente.) Also exceptional were the fusili with chicken and broccoli and the eggplant wrapped around ricotta. Brave C ordered the much-bragged-about fist-sized ravioli, pictured right. I wish I had a ruler to add to the picture for scale. Each one must have been more than a quarter pound. Report is that they were delicious.
Only one of our party actually finished the main – clean plate clubber and gracious chauffeur M. We left with six clamshell takeaway boxes, each filled with at least one more meal. In retrospect, we have to question the economics of a restaurant that can serve up such enormous portions – including some with meats and seafood – for $16 or less, and have a wine list that tops out at $50 with most bottles at $18. Go figure. But as long as they do, and as long as you can find your way there (and back), I can think of few better places for giant plates of quality red sauce.
You know you have a problem when you go shopping for something when you have recently purchased examples of that same thing sitting around your house, unopened. Well, maybe not in the case of food. But in the case of art, I think I might have this problem. Last year around this time I blogged about the photo auction season. I also bought a couple of things, and not all of them have made it into rotation on my walls. And it’s that time of year again, and I’m making a shopping list.
Last week it was Skinner’s auction of fine wines. I didn’t get it together to go, and I hope I can find the sale prices online somewhere. Morbid curiosity, I think. The $12 screw-cap Bordeaux should fill my needs for now.
This weekend, it’s The DeCordova Museum’s annual benefit and auction. I’ve never been to this one, and it looks like I’ll miss it again this weekend, but I’ve been having great times at the DeCordova lately so will pay more attention next year.
Just two weeks after that, on the 25th – not much time for budget relief – is The Photographic Resource Center’s annual benefit auction. With almost 200 works in total and 3/4 of that in a silent auction, you can expect some bargains here, but also expect to see some amazing work sold for breathtaking prices.
November 1 brings us ARTcetera at the Boston Center for the Arts, a fundraiser for the AIDS action committee. Keep an eye on this one, there’s an amazing variety of work – not just photos – on offer.
This is far from an exhaustive list, but it’s what’s on the limeduck radar these days. I’m very interested to see how these events play out. Economic uncertainty suggests that people will be bidding timidly, but that also suggests that those with the guts and the cash might get some exceptional bargains. It’s also possible that some investors will look to art as a better store of value than commodities or equities. In any case, it’s a great way to buy local and get a unique gift for yourself or a loved one.
“Muffaletta FTW” summed up lunch well enough for a tweet, but I wanted to take a moment to expound and illustrate the deliciousness that is Dave’s Fresh Pasta in Davis Square. On a near-perfect early autumn day, I met J for lunch at Dave’s. I had recently visited with agile marketer tangyslice and we kvelled about the cuban there, so this time, with J, we decided to change it up a bit.
We spotted a muffaletta in the specials case, near the cubanos. How often do you get something like that around here? Muffaletta is a sandwich (actually, strictly speaking it’s a bread, but the name has come to stand for the sandwich in yet another example of culinary synecdoche) identified with New Orleans and apparently created by some Sicilian immigrants there. It’s a foccacia-like bread (the actual muffaletta) filled with an olive salad and layers of salami, mortadella, capicola (fill in as many cold cuts as you can handle) and cheese(s). Like most sandwiches, it’s best grilled. Plus, that flattens it out to size more likely to fit in your mouth. Dave sells muffaletta by the pound rather than by the sandwich or the slice, which seems like a pretty good idea to me for most sandwiches. Too often you get stuck with a lunch the size of your head and spend the afternoon fighting off a sleep coma. Anyway, here’s the delicious Dave’s fresh muffaletta:
Not to be upstaged by its spicier meatier neighbor, the artichoke sandwich with lemon basil pesto and fresh mozzarella was also on special. Priced and sized more traditionally, this sandwich felt healthier than the muffaletta but was no less enjoyable. The mushrooms and greens stole the show from the artichoke.
The cafe tables outside of Dave’s fill up quickly at lunchtime and are especially coveted in this gorgeous season.
Last week I had a pleasant meal at Rendezvous in Central Square, a place that has reliably seasonal menus and art on the walls. I was feeling a bit less than 100% so I chose the vegetable bollito misto (a Piedmontese boiled dinner, this one featuring polenta, fava beans, cheese and mushrooms) even though I was craving the Gascon duck three ways (grilled breast, confit leg and garlic sausage). I won’t regale you with all the details of the meal, but we also enjoyed grilled sardines with lemon and fried parsley, roast chicken with chanterelles, corn and green beans, and an impressive warm chocolate cake with cinnamon cream.
I was still thinking about the duck that got away – three ways, actually – when I stumbled upon an article in The Weekly Dig about the Fall game hunting seasons, complete with dates and recommended local dishes.
Duck season: Wed 10.15.08–Sat 11.29.08 and Fri 12.12.08–Sat 1.03.09 (Berkshire); Tue 10.14.08–Sat 11.29.08 and Mon 12.15.08–Mon 1.05.09 (Central); Fri 10.17.08–Sat 10.25.08 and Wed 11.26.08–Sat 1.24.09 (Coastal)
Rabbit season: Sat 10.18.08–Sat 2.28.09 (cottontail); Sat 11.15.08–Wed 12.31.08 (jackrabbit); Sat 10.18.08–Thu 2.05.09 (snowshoe hare)
From this we can deduce that here in Eastern Massachusetts, from October 18 through 25 and November 26 through January 24, it’s both duck season and rabbit season, a time period during which it’s entirely possible to have a spirited argument about whether it’s rabbit season or duck season. Have you figured out where this is leading yet? Well, here it is.
Welcome to limeduck, a blog mostly about food, photos, marketing, media, travel, and culture. I hope you enjoy it. You can reach me at quack[at]limeduck.com
Martha Lewis‘ work is less obsessive and repetitive than that of some of her gallery-mates, but it’s no less interesting. She draws on the visual language of floor plans, circuit diagrams, mechanical and engineering schematics and more to create collage-like works that echo Wright and Mondrian with a touch of futurism and machine-age constructivism.
Andrea Sulzer showed two wall-sized drawings, each about 8 feet square and simply pinned to the walls unglazed and unframed. It was a bit unnerving to be so close to the naked paper and ink, but that’s the best way to experience a drawing, isn’t it? Sulzer’s work looks like a big abstraction from a distance, but as you get closer and let the drawing fill your visual field, you start to see bits of figurative elements inside the sweeping compositions.
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