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To see all the reports from the Blanton Museum opening, click here for Saturday and here for Sunday.
Austin360 blogs > Live reports from the Blanton Museum opening > Archives > 2006 > April > 30
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Farewell to art
Only a few discouraging words clouded this 24 hours of Blanton opening.
Nobody really embraces the exterior of the UT art museum. They admire the plaza and the loggia, but other than that…
The atrium lifts hearts. The galleries flow.
But it’s the art that makes the Blanton beat. One thousand works from a 17,000-piece collection.
This art has been my home for 24 hours. And right now, I don’t know why, I don’t want to leave.
People looked at me strangely when this stunt was announced. Why would we — Jeanne Claire, Marc and Erin — do this?
Well, who wouldn’t want to spend the night — and day and night — with all this art?
I will spend a good portion of the rest of my life, should I stay in Austin, in these rooms where I write these final words.
Moments ago, I ran into one of Austin’s higher angels, Michael Guarino, without whom the Long Center would not have been designed. He’s moving to San Antonio, which depresses me, partly, but I know that’s something he has to do.
But how perfect to see him in Austin for the last time? In a place where grace and nobility and art coincide in one building?
That is how I will remember this day — saying goodbye to someone who has contributed so much to Austin, in a building that promises so much for Austin’s future.
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Musical accompaniment
Determined to catch the “Art Brief: Collective Experience,” I used a quickstep to negotiate the crowds of people still jammed in every gallery of the museum. Eventually the heavens allowed me to catch up with docent Stephanie Nelson as she guided a group of 20 or so through a thought-provoking tour of a few of the museum’s masterworks.
Instead of spouting off her extensive knowledge, Nelson asked the patrons accompanying her what they thought about the various works they examined, including Peter Dean’s “Dallas Chaos II” and Ben Shahn’s transcendental “From That Day On.”
The Art Briefs were as multicolored as the paintings that they examined: Anglo, African American, Latino, Asian and every other ethnicity under the sun were seen perusing the gallery floors, debating the artists’ latent intentions.
It was a beautiful sight. Our sleepy little college town is growing up, and now we’ve got one more first-class museum to inspire our dreams.
“The collection is far better than I thought it was going to be,” Austinite Sean Fleming said. “I’ve really been enjoying all the drawings and sketches.”
Moments later, Austin Symphony Orchestra conductor Peter Bay vigorously lead a note-perfect quintet through the first of eight original pieces (18 short movements) - “Music for the Blanton” - composed specifically to represent a musical depiction of various works in the museum. The elegant orchestral movements were written by renowned composer/UT professor Donald Grantham.
Grantham’s airy, elegant pieces were modeled after Mozersky’s “Pictures in an Exhibition.” And it turned out that the music and audiences both benefited from the fact that the ceremonies began 30 minutes late at 7:30 p.m., just as the Blanton throngs began to thin out a bit about an hour before sunset.
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Reading all the coverage
To see all the reports from the Blanton Museum opening, click here for Saturday and here for Sunday.
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Not since LBJ
“Last time this many people were lined up in Austin, Texas, was to see LBJ lying in state,” said poet Jack Brannen to Blanton Director Jessie Hite as they watched a continuous line of people stream around the Blanton and into the front door. Hite, seemingly everywhere at once, was even clicking the hand-held counter herself, attending to the massive number of folks constantly moving in and out of the enormous entrance.
Inside, the appropriately exquisite sounds of classical guitarist Tony Morris and his Viva Trio, including Renata Green on flute and Jennifer Bourianoff playing violin, bounced around the walls of the atrium and floated into the European rooms and the eLounge.
“The acoustics in here are interesting … it actually sounds quite beautiful,” Morris said between songs. “I hope to play here again during their concert series!”
And downstairs: Since I, and a few hundred folks, missed the late arrival of the Krispy Kremes this morning, I was determined not to miss the cheese and crackers … and the “Blantinis.”
“We’re not serving those today … sorry,” a kindly bartender said.
Foiled again by the paper schedule. Oh, well, there are refreshments that many adults seem to be enjoying. Maybe I’ll brave the sun, and the long line to get back inside, and join them.
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Battle weary
So I spent time with each piece of art over the course of the past 20 hours. Not enough time, but time.
So what surprised me the most?
The consistency. It’s hard to find fault when each example does exactly what it is supposed to do.
This does no mean the Blanton is packed with masterpieces. But there are so many A minuses and B pluses, that I’d round it up to an A.
I blogged last time about the obvious elisions in the Blanton collection.
Yet in its strengths, the Blanton hits almost every note precisely.
Here’s an example: I actively hated almost nothing.
Which is not to say that it’s flavorless. But rather that I understood why each piece was chosen — and I most often approved.
The closest I came to disapprobation was regarding the Battle Casts. You couldn’t find more devoted admirer of classical culture than myself. And I do understand the educational and historical reasons for retaining and displaying them.
It’s the plaster. It’s not marble or bronze. There’s a falseness, a smooth facility about the material that sets my teeth on edge.
And it’s disheartening to think about firstime visitors mistaking them for the real thing.
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Busy bees
The crowd has in no way let up, but don’t let that discourage you from coming down. Two-step students are now putting their skills to the test as the band Heybale plays. Honestly, many of the same folks, not staffers that took the class, are now down there cutting a rug.
Outside there is plenty of shade for those in line, and KGSR is handing out fans. Last heard the cups had run out for the ice tea and lemonade station, and the cookies had attracted a small contingency of bees. But there’s good weather and good people watching and if you are willing to wait a spell, good art.
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Where’s sculpture?
So what’s missing from the new Blanton?
Sculpture. Could use a lot more. Not hard to do. And there’s space inside and outside.
Romantic, Impressionist and Expressionist paintings. Needed to fill the historical hole between the Old Masters and the full-blown 20th century. Also doable. Where and how to hang? I leave that to the museum’s trio of matchless curators.
Africa, Asia, Oceania, Near East. Would require three things: The donation of superb collections, academic specialists added to the Art & Art History Department and another dedicated building. So much less likely than, say, the addition of sculptures or Impressionists.
Antiquities. Not a chance, not with the international legal tangles inherent in the cultural heritage of any civilization, even if acquired by collectors or institutions for centuries. We’ll live with the Battle Casts.
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Blanton as David?
After the official ribbon cutting attended by local and university officials as well as Mr. Blanton, I thought about writing on “museum as source of civic pride.”
However, I was feeling sleepy and in need of some art rejuvenation. I checked in at the eLounge and then due to laziness, headed over to the European galleries once again.
I found a nice bench opposite Claude Vignon’s “David with the Head of Goliath.” I told myself I wasn’t going to analyze the work, just sit with it and rest a while.
Of course I noticed the Caravaggesque lighting, the Baroque theatricality and the androgynous appearance of the young David. It turns out three out of four people who sat next to me noticed David’s ambiguous sexuality including a little boy who said,”Daddy, is that a boy or a girl?”
Once again, my thoughts were rounding the bend. Wasn’t David a Renaissance symbol of Florence - the young man (city) conquering ferocious (powerful enemies)?
Couldn’t the “museum as source of civic (or regional, national, even international) pride” be like that David?
Well, if that’s too big a statement, I’ll leave you with this: They’re teaching two-step classes in the atrium.
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Smell of the crowd
To correct some impressions, although the lines were long last night, they have improved mightily today. (15-minute wait as I write.)
Inside, there’s no sense of overcrowding, except when people unexpectedly dally in one room.
Compared with most East Coast museums, which would be even more crowded on a weekend, the Blanton offers wide open spaces.
Of course, there’s no need to attend this weekend. It’s Austin’s forever. And Thursdays are free.
Just a clarification, not a retraction. I think the storm has passed.
As for wanting to occupy the same space with a reporter/editor who’s been here for 17 hours …
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The place to be
I’m sorry to rely on such a cliche, but today proves that “If you build it, they will come, and come and come and come.
Not only is there what I consider to be a long line outside (one that rivals most I ever stood at, at Liberty Lunch, for example), but tales of Friday and Saturday crowds and lines are getting bigger and more elaborate by the minute.
The museum’s 24-hour event is reverberating all around town. My mother just brought me a sandwich and said she overheard some Dallasites eagerly discussing their visit here today and many people at her nearby church, All Saints Episcopal, were planning to walk down after services. An other friend said, “This is THE place to be today.”
Last week Kate Gallbreth of The New York Time’s discussed the Blanton’s position in relation to other major Texas museums and asked Blanton Director Jesie Otto Hite about her attendance and membership expectations. From evrything I’m seeing and hearing today, the outlook very looks good.
FYI: For those who have asked about line-time, it’s dwindled a bit to a manageable 15 minutes right now.
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“Look, but don’t touch?”
It’s no Six Flags, but there are a lot of children here. From sleeping babies in strollers, to curious tots and opinionated kids, they all seem to be enjoying themselves.
Perhaps one of most kid-friendly (although it’s unclear to me just how interactive it is intended to be) artworks is El Salto Invisible (The Invisible Jump), 2006. Daniel Joglar’s installation consists of shiny and colorful circles and rods suspended form the celing at various heights, often just high enough for kids to get a good tug on. Others simply crane their necks to view in wonderment, walk in between shapes, or even blow on pieces to see how they’ll move.
Other favorites include Paul Chan’s animated videos, Rachel Harrison’s big Buddha sculpture, and Epiphany Model S: Expedition in the contemporary galleries on the first floor.
In addition to inside visual treats, there are hands-on activites outdoors where kids and adults can make “Blanton Blooms,” basically decorated cardboard yard flowers or there own version of woodcut prints substituting wood, with Styrofoam, for plates.
Just as the volume of the eLounge I write from, and children play in, seem to be maxing out, I think I finally heard one of Joglar’s rods fall to the ground. Then everyone cleared out. Or maybe it’s just that it’s lunchtime.
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In perspective
Overheard: “I’m going blind,” said a dapper older gentleman. “I’m glad I saw this before I went completely blind.”
Rebecca Wallace and Word of Mouth Catering are doing a fantastic job adapting to the larger than expected attendance. Sure, some people missed out on the munchies, but others hogged the goodies. Blame them for shortages. (I saw some of the same people on multiple visits hovering by the food troughs.)
So it turns out that the 14,000 who have passed through the virtual turnstyles include folks from four of the five previews, so the pull so far for the public opening (in other words, since 9 p.m. Saturday) is about 8,000.
Because lines are now strung around the building again, I’m guessing they will reach 15,000 for the public event, and a total of 20,000 for the week. (So revised slightly down.)
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On bended knee
Continuing on my “museum as church” theme, I decided I should spend some time in the European galleries, These galleries showcase many of the smaller paintings from the Suida-Manning collection - mostly images of saints, scenes from the life of Christ and the like.
Viewers seem remarkably comfortable with these subjects, reading the labels, walking up close and then stepping back for a wider view. I say this because I often find museum-goers overly reluctant to approach artworks.
In any event, the four galleries I walked through culminate in a room with five larger paintings hanging in an octagonal shaped room, complete with an octagonal shaped dome, resembliing Early Christian architecture.
Wall text eaplains that these large paintings were created as altarpieces for Italian churches. they were meant for both collective and individual devotion.
My next blog will trade in the “museum as church” topic for “museum as playgound.”
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Family hour
Now it’s crowded again. Strollers. Large families. Perky people.
I’m into my 14th hour here. Don’t know if it shows.
We conceived this partly as a news blog, partly as a personal report, to give a feel of physically being in this place for 24 hours.
Thank goodness for Marc, Erin and Jeanne Claire, who are bringing fresh insights and observations into the bloggy mix.
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Sacred art
I get UP early on Sundays, but I don’t get OUT much.
Maybe this is why the first thing I thought as I crossed MLK Boulevard today around 9 a.m. and approached the Blanton Museum, was “church.” Older couples holding hands processed reverentially and families with kids in tow all scrambled up to the building’s entrance, some passing up the free refreshments for what was to come.
Museums have always been my churches in many ways. They are places to connect with something larger than myself, for contemplation and meditation. They also function as a place of communion. Where you regularly check in with neighbors, friends and your “your fellow man.”
After checking in with my editor, I moved over to the second story of the Blanton’s atrium and considered the beautiful quality of light it allows into the building, similar to that of a Gothic cathedral.
Then UT’s Intervisions Gospel Choir, set up on the first floor of the atrium was introduced, “to celebrate art, that is indeed divine.” People spilled out of the galleries to watch, listen and witness an inspirational performance of Gospel songs. An a cappella segment of one song gave me a little shiver.
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25,000 deputies
Revise that last estimate. Looks like the Blanton opening attendance hit 12,000 by 8 a.m. That would suggest 20,000 by 9 p.m. tonight. And, if you add earlier previews, closer to 25,000.
Besides giving everybody an opportunity to tour the new facility (as long as you picked a slow hour), the 24-hour public opening, plus the five main previews, gave people the opportunity to adopt “ownership.”
Already, I hear people giving directions, urging certain works of art, tellling anecdotes about the previous time they visited this week. This will pay off in the long run.
Yes, it’s the university’s museum and its main function is education of UT students, but it’s also Austin’s museum. So the Blanton has just deputized 25,000 Central Texans to act as their surrogates in the community.
Some of best marketing smart money can buy.
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Case of the missing doughnuts
It didn’t take long for “the people” of Austin to adopt the new Blanton as one of its own.
As the dressed-only-in-black night owls burned off with the rise of the sun, fresh-faced and well-rested thoroughly excited morning folks began to appear in the galleries — walking with the enthusiastic bounce in their step of a soul who has seen a full night’s sleep.
But I had to rub my eyes to make sure that I was seeing straight when I noticed pajama-clad patron Margret Shaw and four friends slowly admiring the Paul Chan animations.
“We’re exploring the barrier between public art and private space,” said Tim Flocos, organizer of the five friends that came to the Blanton dressed only in pajamas and robes. “Well … that, and we just thought it would be really fun to come look at the art in our pajamas.”
The only misstep at the Blanton early Sunday morning was the fact that they advertised free doughnuts and coffee … and only came through with the coffee.
“Don’t say ‘free doughnuts’ unless you really have some,” said one grumpy patron on a coffee-soaked stomach.
And it wasn’t that the people didn’t appreciate all that was being offered … because there were smiles-abound all around. It’s just that you can’t tell hundreds of Austinites — including tens of children — that you’re gonna provide free doughnuts, and then not come up with the goods.
Whether it was the Harley-Davidson aficionado and his family creating art in the Creation Station room, the ER doctor in his scrubs sinking into a chair in the America/Americas room, or the older gentlemen in their multiple gallon-sized cowboy hats reflecting quietly among the European collection, “the people” all found their way to the Blanton Sunday morning … and it appears that they are just going to keep coming … all day long.
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The figure on the floor
The atrium was empty for a few minutes, except for a figure on the floor, head sunk into a bean-bag chair. He looked like an installation, and church-dressed morning visitors gave the reclining man a wide swath.
Something about the silhouette caught my eye, so I stepped closer to examine his features. Ah! It was my friend Jeff, who had attended an all-night party, walked into the cartoon showing and promptly fell asleep.
This kind of serendipity is already expected from the Blanton. Let’s see, 3,000 attended yesterday’s member preview, then 5,000 entered between 9 p.m. and 3 a.m. I’d say another 1,000 or so have trickled in since then, and the pace is picking up again.
Were I the gambling sort, I’d bet that by 9 p.m., attendance for the two days will be in the 15,000 range.
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Sunrise yoga amid minimalism
The Earth’s revolution created an East Austin sunrise worthy of the Blanton’s grand opening, and there were still several hundreds people interspersed throughout the museum to witness the soft light break through the gallery’s sublimely placed windows.
At 6 a.m., the high-brow-meets-low-brow debate in the atrium ceased as Scooby-Doo and Fat Albert cartoons wrapped up. Simultaneously, museum volunteer and part-time yoga instructor Michele Grieshaber led about 20 limber early-risers through the museum’s first 45-minute yoga class in one of the largest rooms upstairs in the America/Americas Modern and Contemporary Gallery.
Grieshaber spoke softly about transcendental stretching and breathing, Without nary a beat in between, she then called attention to the masterworks that surrounded her impromptu class.
“To me, it’s about how the artwork transcends the medium,” said Grieshaber. “The Minimalism movement began in the 1950s … the artist’s take painting and sculpture and break them down to their simplest form. Hopefully the artwork will inspire you as you look around during our session.”
And then the devoted little group of flexible patrons went about their business of enlightened, pre-dawn stretching.
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Fruity loops in the plaza
Everyone thought they’d be the Blanton’s only visitors during the middle of the night … but apparently everyone thought wrong.
“We’ve got to get home before the sun comes up,” pleaded one young student to his female friend.
Meanwhile, Saturday morning cartoons from the 1970s — including “Jim” (I’d never heard of before either) and “Fat Albert” — entertained a beleaguered group of 20 or so souls in the main atrium.
“And what about all the people that didn’t know they were serving cereal,” inquired late-night patron Kate Strickland. “It’s 5 a.m. and there are people in white coats serving us cereal. It’s so surreal … it’s surreal cereal.”
Strickland and a couple of friends enjoyed a few bowls with 2 percent milk outside in the plaza before returning inside to enjoy more cartoons and the dark, haunting stares in the European galleries.
“This is great how they are bringing people together at weird hours,” Strickland said while expressing hope the Blanton would hold more events like this in the future. “You’re more likely to talk to people and discuss everything when your looking at art at 5 a.m. I also like how there is all this high art, yet people are eating fruity loops and honey oats and who knows what else.”
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Before dawn
Morning people — bright, brisk, clear-eyed — brush past the all-nighters.
The meeting not been strained.
I haven’t seen the yoga, if it’s around, as promised.
A morning tour guide showed us that if you sit in the middle of the giant ottoman in the eLounge, your voice is distorted by the dome above. That’s not something you’d learn on an everyday musuem visit.
V. Marc Fort has arrived to blog. I plan to stay through for the full 24, but it will be an effort.
I should spend time with the art, now that it’s mostly hushed.
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Here’s your story
The line still wrapped around the building at 3:30 a.m.
That’s 3:30 a.m. Central Standard Time.
There’s no way that the Blanton planners could have anticipated that kind of crush.
By that time, more than 5,000 people had passed through the doors.
Which is how many visitors those planners hoped would attend for the entire 24 hours.
Walked around the block to clear my head. Stumbled onto the Long installment in the sculpture garden. A contemplative medallion on stone to encounter at 4 in the morning.
Oh, and that fallen art? Turned out to be a big bump into the Joglar installation, you know, the one with the hanging rods, rings and globes. Apparently no harm done.
Every gallery is populated now past 4:30 a.m. A few guests with strong brew radiating from their beings. But a lot of intense interest in the art, along with a lively discussion of the Israeli political situation in the temporary galleries.
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Late, late show
It’s easy to forget that young people stay up all night. It’s almost four and the rooms are full of fully alert, playful, chatty, mostly young people.
The Blanton plans to stage First Friday events with bands and such, but they should consider staying open way past midnight. There’s a whole race of people just getting their night started now.
Dave Steakley of Zachary Scott Theatre is one. Now here’s technology: He was reading my blog and standing in line outside, when he called me on my cell to sneak him in.
Alas, I didn’t feel the phone.
Right now, one theatrical group is leading people through the eLounge expounding fake mysteries about the art. The dancers — at one point joined by escapees from Eeyore’s — have wrapped. Where’s the improv?
You gotta go to the Blanton Web site to download screensavers and watch the Webcam mounted on the next buiilding. You can see me blogging if you use the zoom.
Uh oh, uh oh. Art just fell in the next room. Hate it when that happens.
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Atomizing experience
Poets in one room. A frisky fashion show in another. Balancing games elsewhere.
Dancers weave in and out of the hanging sculptures.
You don’t have to worry about stuffiness at this museum. At least not during the opening marathon.
Quiet pervades where rollicking once reigned.
There’s actor Lee Eddy, accompanied by one of my close friends, a high school teacher, also splendidly dressed as a flapper. If you must introduce yourself in drag for the first time, why not at the longest, largest party of the year.
At this point, someone reading this blog is thinking: What about the art? Why concentrate on all the hoopla?
Well, we’ll have years to analyze and interpret the art. Tonight is for the masses, for embracing a new gathering place for our city.
Given the flow, I’d estimate 5,000 so far. But I’ll check for you.
Confirmed. And still a line after 3 a.m.
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Manners of respect
The bars will close soon. As one worried Blanton staffer put it, “we’ll trade sober teenagers for drunk teenagers.”
Groups are still high-fiving when they finally make it into the building.
At this time, the knots of visitors are treating each other with tender manners.
And the environment might help that.
The balance among the historical and stylistic schools is thoughtful, easily self-evident. Contemporary art receives its due downstairs. Modern and pre-modern divide the upstairs fairly (with a little contemporary thrown in for good measure,)
They all seem to get along. The prints and drawings, less charismatic in a world of color, appear a little lonely, People gravitate toward color (not representation as some of my fellow critics would say).
People love the eLounge. Maybe it’s because of the cush chairs. Maybe the G5 Apples in prime positions. Also, the bulbous shape of the rooms seems to generate a social buzz.
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Creative cravings
One of the two large America/Americas has turned into a huge kindergarten art class.
Dozens of visitors are filling up white sheets of paper with every sort color, line and shape.
Meanwhile, the e-Lounge has mutated into its own little chill room, a party within a party, mostly for those exhausted by the bands downstairs.
The waits seems to be shortening downstairs. And visitors are spending more time in the galleries.
There is no way we can describe here the relative vastness of these galleries. You have to experience it.
Oh, and the crowd? Very diverse. Maybe the most diverse gathering I’ve seen in this town, age, race and background-wise.
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Sixth Street strolls in
Sixth Street club kids are in the house. So is the neo-New Wave power funk band Pong.
Actually, Pong has been in the house since the Blanton opened earlier this evening — their white and orange jumpsuits just made them look like staff as they wandered the galleries.
Now, Pong’s rocking out the atrium. And so is the crowd. It seems as if every live music hot spot in Austin has emptied of its young-and-fashionables, many still sporting club stamps on their hands.
There’s still a 45-minute wait to get inside the museum. But hey — maybe if you know someone who knows the bouncer …
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Woody Allen moments
Every time one turns the corner, down another alley of galleries, a familiar or semi-familiar face pops up.
“I didn’t know you were here,” they say, just like something out of “Manhattan” or “Match Point.”
On the short list of bumpees so far — writer/director Carlos Trevino, performance artist/dancer Beverly Bajema, artist/blogger Michael Schliefke, tango dancer Monica Caivano, a St. Ed’s student named Rob who says he’s going to take my class next fall.
The Blanton will be one of the most social places in Austin.
Sometimes too social. The young ones like to take advantage of the room-sized installation with its pool of pennies — they treat it like a pool party. One woman took it upon herself to dance in the pennies. Not cool.
After a few circuits, the gobs and gobs of art become more familiar. And yet, honest to goodness, I’ve walked into rooms in the past hour and thought — I’ve never been here.
Last count, 2,300 visitors and the line to enter still stretches around the building.
Oh, and a improvisational comedy troupe in costumes just walked through the E-lounge, giving a satirical tour of the museum.
