Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)

Died in the 1918 Flu Pandemic

Memorial Day means cemetery visits and, occasionally, a question with an easily-found answer. For example, the next time you are visiting an older cemetery you may notice that many of the headstones show 1918 as the year of death. Yes, it was the end of World War I, but most of the headstones have no military markers -- and both genders are represented. This is because we had an influenza pandemic in 1918 that killed more Earthlings than all WWI civilian and soldier deaths combined. A handful of the millions of flu casualties were just hitting their strides in the visual arts world, too. We'll never know what they might have gone on to create, but I am able to tell you their names. If this piques your curiosity, have a look at Artists Who Were Killed by the 1918 Influenza Pandemic.

Malcolm MacDougall III Welds and Casts Sculptural Spells

Whatever they are putting in the water supply for Ardsley, New York, I want some. First this Westchester County village's High School produces Mark Zuckerberg, the young Facebook bajillionaire, and now along comes another prodigy: sculptor Malcolm MacDougall III. I'll have you know that Malcolm is making a name for himself in leaps and bounds -- he is that talented and dedicated. Also? He is 22 years old. (Twenty-two, people! What were you doing when you were 22? I don't remember exactly, but believe it involved both hands, a flashlight and, ultimately, some form of epic failure.)

Beth Gersh-Nesic has a treat for us in her article about Malcolm MacDougall III, which you should read. Why? Besides learning about a hot new career, you are going to want to know who Malcolm is. Beth and I will both lay odds we'll be hearing his name (with increasing frequency) for years to come.

In Conversation She Spoke Just Like a Baroness

If we had seen her roaming Greenwich Village in the 1910s, would we have thought "baroness" or "bag lady?" When it comes to the Dadaist Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927), it's impossible to say. The only certainty is that we would have noticed her: tall with long, flat muscles; erect carriage; purposeful stride; hawkish nose balanced by receding chin; close to handsome and far from pretty; and the way she dressed! Have you known any woman in your life who wore two empty tomato soup cans instead of a bra? Teaspoons for earrings? A birthday cake for a hat? Yellow pancake makeup with black lipstick? A shaved head painted vermilion? Or -- how about nothing? The Baroness, you see, wore nudity as another costume. It was effective, too, when she was openly stalking her sexual prey.

I have long wondered how it is that flamboyant Baroness Elsa, the antithesis of Ideal Womanhood in an era where two piece undergarments were considered the zenith of female liberation, got swept into the dustbin of art history. Aside from the fact that her life was a years-long Performance Art piece, she was a sculptress and a poetess. She was Dada before Dada was Dada. Back in the day, everyone even peripherally involved with the New York Dada scene knew her name. Why don't we? Clearly (to me, at least) something had to be done. And so it has. Please enjoy meeting her in the biography of Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven -- even if you'll still have a hard time deciding between "baroness" and "bag lady."

Image: Jamaican-American poet Claude McKay (1889-1948) and Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, ca. 1915. Bain News Service, publisher. Photo: Library of Congress.

On Separating Funk Art from Junk Art

Before last week, I would have said one involved Soul Brother Number One James Brown, and the other non-recyclables. That would have worked, too, were it not for the word "art" tailgating both "funk" and "junk." So once again I sallied forth, armed only with an Inter-Library Loan card and a can-do attitude. Now that I know, you, too, can know how to compare and contrast Junk Art and Funk Art. I figure if "Doing It to Death" (the actual name of "Gonna Have a Funky Good Time") plays in your head the whole time, that's your business. ("In order for me to get down, I have to get down in D," is not the worst life motto when you think about it.)