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Volume 3, Issue 16
August 2 - August 15, 2001
ART
FROM RUST TO CHICKEN
Kelly Hume's blowtorch sculptures are just the beginning.
"Don't look over there." At first, I thought she was trying, as I do, to
divert attention from the piles of debris that linger unbidden on available flat
surfaces
of a house or yard. Too late, I realized
artist Kelly Hume was in fact trying
to save my eyeballs from the blinding arc
of the welder. I say too late because 1) I
had already looked, and 2) my eyesight is
already horrendous. Kelly's friend was
helping weld a base for a steel palm tree
commissioned by restaurant Cuba Cuba.
The tree is magnificent, its crown a perfectly
tropical rusty-orange-red riot of
twisting, curving metal. Each leaf has its
own personality, its own droop or sway or
cut. That it could probably slice your
hand like a steak knife makes it more
alluring, its glowing orange hue a warning.
This tree, Kelly says, sums up her "I
say 'I can do that, ' then I figure out how"
approach to life.
Kelly is, in her words, a "dabbler." She is
a sculptor, a painter, and a creator of
mobiles composed of junk store finds
such as bathroom faucet handles. Humor
runs through her best work. She states,
"Why be angry about making art? Isn't
humor just as important as angst?" But
she's not expecting an answer, and one
can see she's not full of angst. Her house
is filled with cute, smiley things such as
Beanie Babies and Mickey Mouse. She
has a fluffy dog named Abby. She is writing
a children's book titled Rivilena
Milanchki Mellamagoo and the Flibberty
Floblum. Kelly is, in my words, life
affirming.
Her influences range from her University
of Colorado at Denver painting professor,
John Hull, to 19th-century Japanese
woodblock-print artist Katsushika
Hokusai. The Jewish artist becomes
uncharacteristically sober when describing
"the biggest change in my entire life,"
a recent trip to Israel: " I felt I was home
the instant I got off the plane." The powerful
influence of this homeland changed
her profoundly. Her hobbies run the
gamut from baking (" It's my meditation.")
to rugby (" I always look like I've
been beat up. My mother hates it: 'Honey,
what if you have to go to a luncheon? '").
We don't talk about anything for long;
she's always ahead of me, onto the next
topic, into the next room.
Kelly leads me outside to see her fountains. I hone in on "Serenity Fountain," a
steel pulpit clothed in alluring tangerine
rust, three soft round rocks clinging to its
front. Water unhurriedly kiss-coats the
top, then grazes the sides, finally dripping
onto the rocks with a reddish whisper. I
am mesmerized. There is also "Square
Cave Fountain," a tube of steel in which
a cascade of curved metal squares nestle
in the cut front. I am in love.
"Do you like chicken?" Kelly asks as we
finish touring her garden. I have no idea
what she is talking about. She has picked
a bunch of herbs and is writing out a
recipe. I leave with the tantalizing smell
of herb on my hands and the peaceful
sound of dripping water on my mind.
Suddenly, it all makes sense.
--Kimberly Graham
Kelly Hume, a.k.a. Lone Torch Steel
Works, can be reached at 303-748-3921.
photo by
Gary
Stefanski
LIVING UP TO
THE NAME
@
THE EUROPEAN
MASTERPIECES
Denver Art Museum, 100 West 14th Avenue Parkway
Through September 9
When will you be in Australia? Better see European Masterpieces from
the National Gallery of Victoria, Australia while the paintings are here at
the Denver
Art Museum. As the DAM's advertising
reads: "Six centuries. Eighty-eight paintings.
Seventy-five legendary artists." Hard
to argue with those numbers.
This sprawling exhibition is worth seeing
for plenty of reasons. Eighty-eight reasons?
Heck, there were some paintings in
which I could pick out that many individual
brush strokes I was crazy about. I'll
mention just a few pieces that are particularly
kick-ass.
Check out "Ulysses and the Sirens" by
John William Waterhouse, which reads
like a pre-Raphaelite's episode of "Xena:
Warrior Princess." The crew rows, ears
muffled, with their self-indulgent leader
safely tied to the mast. The "sirens"--
technically harpies here, birds of prey
with women's facesÑ swoop around the
boat. One perches on the gunwale, peeing
into the face of a sailor whose oarstroke
starts to falter. The sirens are beautiful,
of course, with that glorious pre-Raphaelite
hair ... plus wings and talons.
It's a real treat to find a piece by Swiss
artist Henry Fuseli here. We've generally
seen his quietly sinister bedroom scenes,
like "The Nightmare." The work here,
"Milton, When a Youth"Ñ sleeping poet
with watchful muse, circa 1796-- is wonderfully
benign, though it still possesses
all the artist's moodiness and narrative
ambiguity.
"Narrative ambiguity" doesn't begin to
cover "A Mountain Scene, Val d' Aosta,"
a fabulous painting by J. M. W. Turner.
Finished around 1845, your eyes may
declare it the most contemporary piece in
the show. Other than a slather of brown in
the lower corner, this is all bright mist,
churning clouds and glowing light, essentially
abstract and very fine. Happily, it's
displayed near another Turner from about
40 years earlier, "Walton Bridges," and
what you see between the two pieces isn't
just artistic growth, but something closer
to a quantum leap in terms of perception
and expression.
"The Second Marriage" by David
Hockney stands out for several reasons,
including its inherent wit. From 1963,
when the artist was 26, this is surreal
domesticity. The canvas is actually in
three sections, one of them covered in
vintage wallpaper. The lead male character
comes complete with dark glasses and
a slight paunch. The elegant bride sports
breasts like missile nose cones, her sleek
visage based on an ancient Egyptian
princess. Visitors heard disparaging
Hockney's efforts somehow augmented
the humor.
Anthony van Dyck's portrait of "Rachel
de Ruvigny, Countess of Southampton" is
a knock-out in its genre, allegorical
depiction of upper-class wife, ensconced
on a canvas about the size of a garage
door. Swathed in clouds and blue satin,
wafting heavenward, the lady's foot rests
on a skull (the painting's from 1640, the
year of her death) as she leans on a gigantic
crystal ball. Van Dyck casts the countess
as the goddess Fortune, complete with
celestial shafts of sunlight. Whether or
not the countess meets any current definition
of beauty, this is a hell of a painting.
We're all gods and goddesses to those
who love us.
There are plenty more portraits here,
some terrific, like William Owens'
"Rachel, Lady Beaumont," an exceptional
portrayal of an elegant subject, aged 91
at the time (1808) and still sporting red
bows on her shoes. Conversely, Picasso's
"Weeping Woman" serves as a reminder
of just how many mediocre paintings the
maestro churned out. The "Nude with
Cat" by Balthus surprises as well, so
hauntingly voyeuristic it takes a moment
to notice how badly it's painted.
Never mind these few exceptions. In
terms of great technical painting, this is
by far the biggest, best and broadest show
the museum has hosted for many years.
-Renna Shesso
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