Where it's at...er, was...

Barcelona's heyday, so far...an exhibit of a flowering of ideas. From the known (early Picasso) to a few surprises--Joaquin Mir's landscapes are lush with blobs of color; Isidre Nonell conveys a strong social conscience new to the time. Don't miss his "Young Gypsy," a depiction of silence, darkness, resignation, moodiness, introspection, and sequestered emotion. And the canvas isn't even all that large.

Like Picasso's Blue Period needs more analysis. But here goes: blue because of the color of the skin deprived of oxygen, blue being the color/metaphor for the spirit of the toilers > lives starved of leisure (such is the stuff of those that don't have to do manual labor for their daily bread. Did Picasso ever had to slog to eat?). You can say an artist reflects his/her time, or that he/she sidesteps it. It's usually the former. These three paintings are somber, morose, and grim.

Backtrack to a happier time--GAUDI. A whole room-full of his work, highlighting an outrageously terrific dressing table -- the Gina Lollobrigida of furniture. This loquacious little doodad purrs curves: from glass top to mirror (swerved to the diagonal), its frame edges melting into puddles of carved-wood ribbon, to swirls and whooshes: the eye never stagnates. There's even an itty bitty biped shelf growing out of a front leg (perdone, Signora L.). Large enough for a houseboy's derriere, perhaps? Hmmm? Such splendidness is still in the Guell family, sigh... But there's more! A section of an iron fence from the Casa Vicens (a motif of repeating palm fronds), drawings of the Sagrada Familia (completion date--2035 ["My client is in no hurry"]), a model of the ceiling of the church--much more complicated than it looks, as the construction is formed upside down and rightly viewed in a mirror (what was this guy on, anyway?)-- and fixtures and tiles from the Casa Batllo, as he designed absolutely everything for the building. It was all intensely sensory, user-friendly. Gaudi took the naturalism of Art Nouveau and created absolute, sheer, unmitigated joy. He was a genius, period.

A hard act to follow, so the Met trots out you-know-who. Three searing paintings, portraits of hard-scrabble peasants. Then Fauvism, Cubism, Surrealism (some tasty Miros) and the powerful metal sculpture of Julio Gonzalez. "Head" opens up form, integrating space. By 1936 Spain was heading towards war, and the artists reacted accordingly. Dali channels Goya with "Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War)." Gruesome and brutal.
An enveloping, varied and comprehensive show. Perspicacious, too.
Goes with: a plane ticket to Barcelona, to see for yourself, because the work of Gaudi is as powerful as the music of Lightning Bolt. You need to be there...

Barcelona and Modernity: Gaudi to Dali, at the Met
through June 3
212-535-7710
www.metmuseum.org

Painting trumps architecture...

This show of Spanish painting at the Guggenheim looks terrific in that egotistical space. All the usual suspects--El Greco, Velazquez, Goya, Picasso, the middle two reigning over it all, gloriously. In all his breadth, Goya captivates. Her Grace the Duchess of Alba is there, as are his more earthy creatures. His "A Bandit Stripping a Woman (The Bandits' Attack II)" is shocking in its content, it could be torn from the front page of any current rag. Ladling humiliation on top of violence, Goya never minces in paint. Some inspired curating (not exactly related to the premise of the show): Zurbaran's large canvas of a Nazareth interior next to (aka separated by a wall from) Velazquez's oil of exuberant peasants at table, the connection/juxtaposition discernable only from across the rotunda. Stylization next to naturalism, humanity being paramount. Another favorite--Zurbaran's full-length "St. Francis of Assisi in His Tomb", the solitary, hooded figure cradling an upturned scull in both palms: gravitas, humility, finality. Subdued yet powerful.
The show is organized into themes, showing the more modern artists' source of inspiration. The paintings from Spain's Golden Age look all the better for it (and do they ever GLOW).
This is the best show of painting -- of its size -- that the Guggenheim, or any museum, has offered in years.

Spanish Painting from El Greco to Picasso, at the Guggenheim
212-423-3500
through March 28
www.guggenheim.org

Not your grandmother's handywork...

Warped visions in the needle arts. Dept. of who woulda thunk, pt. 1: two gigantic John Deere excavators have what look like oversized lances attached to them: these are the knitting needles. A guy in a cherry picker loops the yarn -- oversize strips of acrylic felt -- over one lance to start off, the other needle advances and he transfers the thread: a knitted American flag is under way. Really, you have to see it to believe it; process is crutial. Dave Cole's "The Knitting Machine" video is right next to the maquette, which resembles jousting toys. "These machines were so beautiful. And we got to play with them. For like two weeks. I have the coolest job." This artist rules--I'm laughing just writing this. Howling! Don't miss his knitted lead teddy bear. Hefty, toxic: contradictory. And now, the "Money Dress." That's right, singles sliced into 1/8" strips and knitted into a low-backed gown, size 8. How punk rock. Cole again: "I want to make art that will stand up to critical dissection, but at the same time is accessible to anyone who takes the time to look at it. I'm tired of art that makes people feel bad because they don't understand it." Bravo. Insightful, erudite, brilliant--this artist needs NY representation.
The other standout in this show is Cal Lane, who cuts steel like paper. She takes her intractable medium and, with infinite patience and precision, cuts doilies out of it. Her "Filigree Car Bombing" is a John Chamberlain via heirloom lace. Masculine/feminine, yin/yang, a fascinating juxtaposition. As stunning as it is unexpected.
Dept of oh holy shit: a pair of knitted gloves to fit, maybe, a mouse. Matches a pullover, both have designs echoing ancient Greek urns. Althea Merback makes garments to 1/12 scale, using stainless steel medical wire (.001") as needles. (Talk about extreme knitting.) A delight and a wonder. Something about absurdity, and in miniature too, cracks me up.

Radical Lace & Subversive Knitting, at MAD (awful acronym for Museum of Arts and Design)
40 E. 53 st.
212-956-3535
through June 17
www.madmuseum.org
www.theknittingmachine.com
www.callane.com
www.bugknits.com
(those last three because the museum's site sucks.)

I mean this with all the love, but imagine mice really
wearing Merback's creations--with their paws properly
covered, you wouldn't hear them scurrying around the
house. They could preen, and squeak, in front of your
mirror and admire themselves in their new duds. Rodent
Runway.