On Summit

There's been a lot of attention given to master art forger Han Van Meegeren recently. Since 2006, three new books have been published ("The Man Who Made Vermeer's" by Jonathan Lopez, "The Forger's Spell" by Edward Dolnick and "I was Vermeer" by Frank Wynne) and one classic has been reissued ("Master Art Forger" by John Godley) . Van Meegeren, for those unfamiliar the story, was a technically accomplished artist working in pre-World War Two Holland. The indifference (and occasional scorn) of his contemporary critics lead Van Meegeren to seek a kind of artistic revenge. He fabricated a plan that hinged on creating a fake Vermeer; a forgery to be passed off on the unsuspecting art world. He'd "discover" the painting, set the critics fawning over its brilliance, and then - in a moment of Hollywood style triumph - reve al it was not a genuine Vermeer after all but rather a masterpiece from the hand of the unjustly maligned V...

It looks like it's going to be a busy week! Luc Tuymans at the Wexner Center Members Preview, Wednesday September 16. I'm really excited about this exhibition. It's the inaugural show of Tuymans' first retrospective in the U.S and I'm thrilled Columbus gets to play host. Tuymans is an interesting painter. I love the kind of complimentary relationship he's developed between painting and photography. There's a strong conceptual component at work as well. The paintings are narrative but in a way that forces us to question the story itself. Plus, you've got to love a painter who distrusts images. It's not quite as iconic as the righteous soldier who detests violence, but it's up there. I've started writing art reviews for Columbus Underground and I'm looking forward to tackling this exhibit. The pressure's on though. There's already been quite a lot written about Tuyman's. Hopefully I'll find an angle. The show opens to the ...

I was out running errands today and stopped by Target to pick up some toiletries and snacks. I made my selections and chose what looked like the best check-out lane. The person ahead of me paid and moved on, and the young man at the register began scanning my items. When he attempted to scan the antiperspirant/deodorant I had, something went afoul. No price registered. "Not again," he muttered. It was obvious he'd had prior issues with his machine. He tried scanning it a second, third, and fourth time, each attempt being as unsuccessful as the first. Undeterred, he squinted at the item, rubbed the bar code with his finger, and tried scanning it again. Nothing. Now I'm not one to lecture other people about how to run their railroad, so I resisted the impulse to tell him to just type the numbers in manually. I figured if that was in his skill set or training he'd get around to it in good time. Instead, he offered a solution that caught me totally off-guard. "Yo...

I suppose I've always had a soft spot in my heart for the neglected, the not shiny, the not new; those things that, in the vernacular of Linus, "just need a little love". I can't explain it rationally, but there's something in the nature of the borderline derelict that makes me say, "That's not so bad, I bet it can be fixed". This sympathetic inclination toward all things salvageable has informed me through two questionable home purchases, countless thrift store finds (large and small), and dozens of motorized vehicles (of both the two and four-wheeled variety). Admittedly this inclination has been dormant of late (I don't have nearly the collection of almost functional bikes, radios, amps, and appliances I used to), but a peak behind my house reveals that an ember of it still glows. Pictured, in all it's humble glory, is my 1975 Saab 99 Wagonback. I owned one of these in the early '90s and always loved it. When the chance to buy another ...

The Main Library. That's what I always called it. "I'm going to Main to study", "I've got to pick something up at Main", "Main's got a copy on reserve". In its day the name fit like a glove. The Main Library was just that...the main library. It was big, utilitarian, servicable, and not much else (think main post office, main bus depot, main terminal, etc.). I point this out because I'm pretty sure that's what everyone called it. So I was more than a little surprised when I visited the newly renovated Main Library only to find out it's not called that anymore ... at least not officially anyway. Apparently there's a new brand in town (and if you're one of those people that has never gotten used to "THE" Ohio State University then I'm afraid you're probably not going to like this either). According to the still warm and inky smelling visitor's guide ( and OSU's own web page ) we will henceforth and...

Ok. This is an admittedly futile gesture, but what's a blog for if not to occasionally complain about some shoddy product or service we've been subjected to? My story is as simple as a couple pairs of Haggar casual slacks I purchased new (I know...khakis...LOL...) that ended up frayed and unwearable (at least in a professional setting) within a year. Granted, I buy/wear lots of vintage clothes, so I might have missed the point at which new retail clothes became disposable, but I was still pretty surprised. In a somewhat uncharacteristic move, I decided to fire off a complaint via Haggar's web site. I sent them this short note: Hello Haggar, I'm writing to let you know that I'll be very hesitant to purchase any of your products in the future. Here's why: I purchased two pairs of your flat front casual pants (upc # 01745757043 and 017457571106) new from my local Kohl's. Within six months, both pairs were starting to fray and show significant signs of wear arou...

I was in Chicago over the weekend and had a chance to visit The Art Institute's Modern Wing , a recently opened addition designed by Renzo Piano and built to house the museum's 20th and 21st Century collections. Getting There (or at least inside). To start (and from a purely logistical perspective), I'll mention that visitors can enter The Modern Wing from the north side of the Art Institute campus on Monroe street. I point this out because I expect the line might be shorter when you enter from there, and you also gain the advantage of being right in The Modern Wing upon arrival (i.e. you don't have to go find it). The Monroe Street entrance is one of the many little touches (along with a dedicated Modern Wing coffee bar, gift shop, and restrooms) that make a visit to The Modern Wing an event that's easily separate from a visit to the Art Institute proper (though admission happily gets you into both). The Friendly Confines The building itself is worthy of the accol...