Word: brancusi
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...PRINT, Oldenburg compares his clothespin to Brancusi's sculpture, The Kiss. The form he discovered and liberated sustains the comparison. In fact, the clothespin as Oldenburg has perceived it pushes Brancusi's conception farther than Brancusi does, being more truly two-in-one. The spring presses the two identical pieces of metal more tightly against each other than the encircling arms of Brancusi's stone lovers pull them together. Not only does Oldenburg's structure express a more intimate formal relationship, but his "two" are one--they are made out of one sheet of metal, with a groove down...
Other Harvard museums include the Busch-Reisinger (German art and a courtyard with Brancusi penguins), the Peabody (the anthropology museum that also houses the glass flowers) and the Museum of Comparative Zoology (the world's largest whale skeleton hangs from the ceiling.) They're all free, except for the glass flowers...
...symbolic sense they have been frozen still more by Western art history, which has tended to interest itself in African art only to the extent that it was cannibalized by Picasso, Braque, Brancusi and other European artists, becoming a font of style for cubism and expressionism. This helped Europeans see it as "real" art, instead of mere curios or portable anthropological data. Still, the stereotype must be got rid of before African art can be understood in relation to its original audience...
...down. Georges Braque was shot and lived, but the war deprived the 20th century of the mature work of Franz Marc, August Macke, Egon Schiele, Gustav Klimt, Umberto Boccioni and Raymond Duchamp-Villon, as well as that of a young sculptor named Gaudier-Brzeska who might well have rivaled Brancusi in his contribution to modernism. One of the saddest casualties was a German who never fought, the sculptor Wilhelm Lehmbruck. "Who stayed behind after these murders?" he wrote in January of 1918, after moving to Switzerland to escape military service...
...still an attitude; one can sustain it well or badly. A lot of the work shown here, from Seymour Rosofsky's clumsy paintings to more overtly "aesthetic" objects like Don Baum's lumpen-surrealist assemblages of dolls' limbs or Cosmo Campoli's inert tributes to Brancusi, is a wretched thesaurus of cliches. But subtract them and a deposit of vitality remains...