#american visionary art museum

[argyleheir]

Recovery, by Anonymous

From the American Visionary Art Museum

This lone figure was carved from a single apple tree trunk. It was created as a self-portrait by a British mental patient who had a distinctive concave chest from years of tuberculosis. His doctor remembered that he took no interest in making art until he encountered a fallen apple tree during a walk on the hospital grounds and asked for help in dragging it indoors and getting simple carving tools. At that time, there was hospital prohibition for mental patients handling what could be 'lethal' instruments. However, Edward Adamson, a pioneer in using art to treat mental illness, persuaded the authorities to relax this rule, and trust the patient. The result, 'Recovery,' was a vindication of Edward's remarkable insight. For a month, the patient whittled the wood down to this figure. The artist, in his thirties, committed suicide about two years after leaving the hospital. This applewood figure is his only known work of art.

Source

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #WorldGorillaDay 🦍:

Dean Millien

Tin Thing Gorilla, 2011

Aluminum foil

On display at last year’s “ABUNDANCE: Too Much, Too Little, Just Right” at AVAM

[annacase]

Noche Crist, Devil's Mirror, 1977, mixed media

[dogandcatcomics]

#repost @the_avam American Visionary Art Museum (Baltimore, Maryland, USA). I do not know the details of this work but appreciate the canine and feline representation. Thanks to @robwilsonwork for the tip and the photo.

[tricksterontheweb]

" The moon was shining, and it drew my attention.

He showed me that animal, on that ring around the moon.

I was playing out in the streets,

'cause i wasnt old enough to go to school.

Children said, 'Minnie, what are you looking at?'

I said 'I'm looking at those elephants going around the moon .'

They laughed at me, 'Minnie's crazy, we don't see no elephants'

I thought everybody could see them.

I wasn't like the other children.

One night I had a dream

This voice spoke to me

'Why dont you draw, or die'

I said 'is that it?

My.' "

-Minnie Evans

[alternativeproject]

Very Cool stuff at the American visionary art museum

[transmissionsfromthebattlefield]

Swiss-Fig-Havarti

Ah, 2023. You came too fast.

I haven’t had the time to sit down and pump out a blog post in a few days. That’s because I was spending quality time with a certain someone who’s long anticipated presence finally emitted in my house for ten days and granted me the satisfaction I had been craving for a good three months. So here’s the obligatory recap.

Overall, Max’s visit was an incredible time. Most of it consisted of me dragging him places to make him adjust quickly to the Pennsylvania landscape. We hoped for snow, but we instead were granted weather in the sixties on some days. Some of our time was spent inside, including for top secret recording sessions, the motive of which will be revealed to the public in a few months. (Ahahahaahahahah shit.) But most of our time was an excuse for me to subliminally flaunt my taken status to the world at large.

For example, my—or should I say our—last meal of the year was at Little Elephant, the best locally owned Thai place around. I got the yellow curry talay special, pictured below. Pure, earthy bliss. These are the types of things I enjoy.

We headed over to good ol’ Dave’s house for his new year’s eve bash afterwards. (You already saw photos from that night here or here.) Dave is a friend of our family, and his musical infatuations manifest in record parties where licorice pizzas are played by the side in the living room and charcuterie is bountiful in the dining room. (A lot of good food was eaten in those ten days, which should be obvious by now.) We effectively got to DJ for almost the entire night with zero vocal disapproval from anyone else, permitting me to infect my poor boyfriend’s ears with NoMeansNo and Alice Donut and the like. (Luckily, he got a kick out of them.) We danced to Captain Beefheart and overall had a great time. It was probably the most solid NYE party I could imagine. And I hate parties!

Had we stayed home we probably would’ve been watching Sia, who I didn’t even know people still gave a crap about, and David Byrne (hi, David Byrne) being excruciatingly awkward together on TV. We had to wait a few days to get to get that experience via YouTube and astounded friends, and we were geographically separated by that time. But I’m still mentioning it because I am not over how we allow such poor decision making to determine our television programming! Do you really think anyone wants to see Paris Hilton barely sing? At least, it doesn’t sound like anything’s coming out of her microphone there. I hate this culture.

We spent the first day of the new year sticking our tongues out at said culture in good old Baltimore. Our first priority was the American Visionary Art Museum, a current staple of preserving the city’s weirdo spirit. We spent most of our time in the gift shop ogling all the weird crap they have up for sale. We got matching JFK and Jackie O masks that we forgot to take photos with and a lot of other, smaller things.

The majority of the times I’ve been there were when I was much smaller than I even am now. Only one of the exhibits had been changed out since my last visit a few years ago, and a good amount of the museum is permanent. It felt so much the same that I felt almost out of place. This is no dismissal of the museum, and I recommend a visit to those who get the chance to stop in. But I felt overgrown there. The museum, which highlights ‘outsider’ and self-trained artists, revolves around the power and persuasion of innocence. I’m not so innocent anymore! It felt so strange even existing alone in such a complex, never mind leading a boyfriend around. I’m interpreting it as an experiential testament to how far I’ve come. And that’s a good thing. Living away for school, taking in things as myself, getting to share time with a worthy male companion—it’s what I wanted, and I’m happy to be having it. Getting to indulge in the latter after months of anxiety and anticipation was refreshing more than anything.

The rest of our excursion time was less philosophical. We stuck some stickers advertising Jerry Casale’s newest single outside the Sound Garden after dinner at our old Baltimore haunt, Papi’s, which received a much warmer reception from the man of the hour than I expected. You see, my boyfriend is San Diego born and raised, and he is a diehard foodie. If anyone is game to judge east coast Mexican fare, it’s him. He ended up raving to our waitress about how their street tacos beat some of the places back home in terms of their authenticity, which was kind of hilarious. Hey, it’s a point for Baltimore!

The next day we trucked through Amish country to get to the Record Connection up in Ephrata, where we dropped off a few of my boyfriend’s CDs as well as some by Monsieur Herr. Hopefully some “Pennsylvania Dutch” fraulein or freakoff hick gets their state altered by one of ‘em.

Max flew home on Wednesday. I adjusted quickly to not having him around—the internet does wonders, I guess—but I still miss him. Long distance relationships are wack. In a week I’ll be back in Kent, and I can’t be more excited. All the important emails are sent, the section of Music as a World Phenomenon I’m registered for STILL doesn’t have an assigned professor, and most of the anxiety is gone. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll see him again in due time. I’ll still long, but who wouldn’t?

It felt totally crucial to have him around, and I’m relieved that our time together was so enriching for us both. Yet it did not feel like some dramatic, radical upheaval to have a boyfriend at my side. In fact, it felt completely natural.

Which was exactly the way I wanted it to feel.

Happy 2023!

[3amcynic]

Just got back from Baltimore. I highly recommend the American Visionary Art Museum. Kinetic sculptures? Yes.Upcycled materials? Yep. Disturbing imagery? Oh yeah. Severe mental illness channelled into compelling works of art? You bet! A display dedicated to flatulence located next to the bathrooms? Did you really need to ask? All this and probably the greatest (and most affordable) museum gift shop ever. Do yourself a favor and go.

[etakeh]

[persistentvisionz]

December 21, 2022

The American Visionary Art Museum - Baltimore, MD

[somenewdelight]

seen outside the american visionary art museum

[neverwear]

Celebrating the year 2024 with a 25% off sale on anything in the Neverwear shop- you don't need a code, it will come off at check out automatically. For some examples: this sale will make the $75 signed-by-Neil Dickens prints $56.25! a Mad Sweeney lucky coin will be $11.25 the embroidered Neil hat will be $14.21 Grateful for you, we donated to Meals on Wheels, BARCS (animal shelter in Baltimore) 2 public libraries, NAACP, American Visionary Art Museum, and more. Sale up until midnight ET Tues Jan 2, 2024 Here's a photo of me and the boss from ten years ago (I think?)

www.neverwear.net

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #WorldBearDay:

White Spirit Bears by Apache elder Judy Tallwing (b. 1945), 2012. Resin/silver/garnet/sterling/acrylic/copper/diamonds on canvas. From American Visionary Art Museum's "The Secret Life of Earth" show in 2019.

BTW "Spirit Bear" aka "Ghost Bear" aka Moksgm'ol isn't a Polar Bear; it's a rare white morph (NOT albino) of the Kermode Bear, a subspecies of American Black Bear (Ursus americanus kermodei) endemic to coastal British Columbia. It's BC's official mammal & sacred to the region's First Nations peoples.

Mother and cub at Spirit Bear Lodge, Klemtu, BC. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

[bitter69uk]

Today is World AIDS day, which makes me reflect on the creative, vibrant and talented generation of people wiped out in their prime in the early days of the scourge – like pioneering American performance artist, photographer, one of the architects of no-budget DIY underground queer cinema and all-round twisted visionary to be mentioned in the same breath as Jean Genet, Andy Warhol, Kenneth Anger, the Kuchar brothers and James Bidgood, that flaming creature Jack Smith (14 November 1932 – 18 September 1989). To grasp the wild world of this “filth elder” and role model for the ages, I would point you to the exemplary 2006 documentary Jack Smith and the Destruction of Atlantis by Mary Jordan, which I watched on YouTube recently – but it has since been yanked down and seemingly isn’t streaming anywhere else! The doc featured a who’s who of American underground culture (like Gary Indiana, Mary Woronov, John Zorn, Mario Montez, Nick Zedd, Judith Malina, Holly Woodlawn and George Kuchar) reminiscing about their encounters with him. Smith was famously uncompromising and curmudgeonly and died destitute. As an exasperated John Waters recalls in the doc, Smith “bit every hand that could have fed him”. For example, Smith loathed the idea of art galleries or museums screening his work (“Who else was going to show ‘em?” Waters asks). However you cut it, Smith was an outrageous original and an integral figure in the aesthetic we now call “camp” or “kitsch.” We are forever in his debt!

[ruknowhere]

Henry Darger lived a quiet, solitary life as a janitor in Chicago, largely unnoticed by those around him. Yet, after his death in 1973, the world discovered that he had spent decades creating one of the most astonishing and enigmatic bodies of work ever known. Hidden in his small apartment was a 15,000-page manuscript titled "The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What Is Known as the Realms of the Unreal", accompanied by hundreds of vivid, surreal paintings. Darger’s secret world revealed a reclusive genius who blended innocence and darkness in equal measure.

Darger’s magnum opus tells the story of the Vivian Girls, child-like heroines who lead a rebellion against an evil empire that enslaves children. The narrative is sprawling and complex, interweaving themes of good versus evil, religion, and innocence lost. His accompanying artwork, often rendered on massive sheets of paper, is hauntingly beautiful. It features colorful depictions of fantastical battles, strange landscapes, and ethereal characters, blending childlike wonder with unsettling undertones.

Much of Darger’s work reflects his troubled life. Orphaned at a young age, he endured a childhood marked by neglect and abuse. These experiences likely influenced the dark and often violent imagery in his art. His obsession with protecting children, evident in the Vivian Girls' relentless fight against oppression, may stem from a deep sense of powerlessness he felt throughout his life.

What makes Darger’s story even more remarkable is that his work was discovered entirely by chance. His landlords, Nathan and Kiyoko Lerner, stumbled upon his treasure trove of art and manuscripts while clearing out his apartment after his death. Recognizing its value, they preserved his creations, introducing the world to a visionary who had spent his life in obscurity.

Today, Henry Darger’s work is celebrated in museums and galleries around the world, including the American Folk Art Museum in New York. His story resonates as a testament to the profound creativity that can flourish in solitude and the universal human need to express and process our experiences, no matter how hidden.

“Great art can emerge from the most unexpected places, and every story deserves to be found.” — Unknown

credit ~ Weird but True

[icarus-suraki]

No, you know what? While I'm all fired up about modern art and outsider art, let me introduce you to the works of James Hampton.

Pictured above is his monumental Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millennium General Assembly.

With scant education and no formal art education, James Hampton made these pieces out of his intense religious fervor and his own desire to create:

In 1950, Hampton rented a garage on 7th street in northwest Washington [DC]. Over the next 14 years, Hampton built a complex work of religious art inside the garage with various scavenged materials such as aluminum and gold foil, old furniture, pieces of cardboard, light bulbs, jelly jars, shards of mirror and desk blotters held together with tacks, glue, pins and tape. The complete work consists of 180 objects, many of them inscribed with quotes from the Book of Revelation. The centerpiece of the exhibit is a throne, seven feet tall, built on the foundation of an old maroon-cushioned armchair with the words "Fear Not" at its crest. The throne is flanked by dozens of altars, crowns, lecterns, tablets and winged pulpits. Wall plaques on the left bear the name of apostles and those on the right list various biblical patriarchs and prophets such as Abraham and Ezekiel. The text The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millennium General Assembly was written on the objects in Hampton's handwriting.

He constructed all his pieces from materials he found or scavenged himself, "such as aluminum and gold foil, old furniture, pieces of cardboard, light bulbs, jelly jars, shards of mirror and desk blotters held together with tacks, glue, pins and tape."

It's not clear if Hampton himself regarded himself as an artist, a visionary, a prophet, or none of the above. His work, however, is regarded as art in the same way that Michelangelo's Pieta is regarded as art: art of a religious subject or concept.

He also "kept a 108-page loose-leaf notebook titled St James: The Book of the 7 Dispensation. Most of the text was written in an unknown script that remains undeciphered. ... Some of the text was accompanied by notes in English in Hampton's handwriting. In the notebook, Hampton referred to himself as St. James with the title 'Director, Special Projects for the State of Eternity' and ended each page with the word 'Revelation'."

The art was not discovered until after Hampton's death in 1964, when the owner of the garage, Meyer Wertlieb, came to find out why the rent had not been paid. He knew that Hampton had been building something in the garage. When he opened the door, he found a room filled with the artwork. Hampton had kept his project secret from most of his friends and family. His relatives first heard about it when his sister came to claim his body. When Hampton's sister refused to take the artwork, the landlord placed an advertisement in local newspapers. Ed Kelly, a sculptor, answered the advertisement and was so astounded by the exhibit, he contacted art collector Alice Denney. Denney brought art dealers Leo Castelli and Ivan Karp, and artist Robert Rauschenberg, to see the exhibit in the garage. Harry Lowe, the assistant director of the Smithsonian Art Museum, told the Washington Post that walking into the garage "was like opening Tut's tomb."

His work is now on display at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.