While I was enjoying the art of the Nabis, I was also noticing how well the display space had been designed to complement the paintings and prints.
And it was no accident. The curators, Mary Weaver Chapin and Heather Lemonedes Brown, had done some art history sleuthing and found reproductions of historic wallpapers that looked very much like the rooms in the paintings.
Since so much of the mood of the display space is evoked by the wall coverings, using period wallpaper allowed us to see the paintings as they were intended to be seen: against vibrant colors and busy designs.
The music that was playing in the display area was fitting, as well, light and pleasant. The only way to have made it more cozy would have been to have a cushy sofa in front of each piece, but that may be a bit much to ask for.
As we headed out into the chilly wet afternoon, I felt as though I had spent an afternoon at a gracious, well decorated home.
There were four members of the group of artists who called themselves the Nabis. Pierre Bonnard was my favorite, but the other fellows did good work, as well.
Edouard Vuillard did lusciously cozy scenes of family interiors, like his “The Striped Blouse”, showing a woman arranging flowers.
Maurice Denis did very softy colored scenes. So softly colored, in fact, that it is sometimes hard to make out the details. It is important to realize that these pictures are over a hundred years old, and many are just pencil on paper. Nothing lasts forever, after all.
Here is a painting by Denis that I really like, called “Washing the Baby”. The woman looks calmer than I ever felt while wrestling a slippery infant!
Felix Vallotton did paintings and prints of home interiors, but had a very different style from his fellow Nabis. Instead of showing private joys and comforts, his stark black and white prints often make us suspect that all was not right in the household.
This scene of an intimate conversation, for example, is entitled “Money”. Who was asking? Who was denying? Not all roses and champagne, for sure.
But Monsieur Vallotton wasn’t all dark suspicion. His series of prints showing family members playing music has style and fun, and shows what you can do with just black, white, and talent.
So, those are the Nabis, which means ”Prophets” in Hebrew. I really enjoyed the show and will probably go back soon, to have another look at everything.
We got to meet some new friends at the Portland Art Museum. The wonderful new show, called “Private Lives”, features the Nabis, a group of young French artists who worked from about 1880 until 1900. They were a generation or so after the Impressionists like Monet and Renoir, and their style had evolved.
The Impressionists tended to work outdoors, catching the effects of light and wind on their subjects. Monet’s breezy portrait of his wife with an umbrella is a perfect example.
The Nabis show mostly family members in their works, but the art was produced from memory, not life, and most of the scenes depicted are indoors. The feelings they evoke are more cozy than breezy.
Pierre Bonnard is my favorite Nabi. His use of pattern and color of clothes and wallpaper and his subject choices of women, children, dogs and cats is just charming. “The Checkered Blouse”, showing a woman and her cat, is my favorite. His works show intimate, personal scenes that invite you into his family circle.
Another delightful set of works by Bonnard were drawings for a children’s music book that he worked on with his brother-in-law, musician Claude Terrasse. These show music as a loving part of the home, with generations learning and playing together.
Bonnard even used the family to show music theory, as on this page where an octave is shown as taller and taller family members, until the top note is a small child held over the mother’s head.
I will show you some more about the Nabi tomorrow!
There is a new attraction in downtown Portland. I’ll give you the details later, but it involves France and Art, so of course, we went! Thursday was cold and rainy, but we caught the bus and headed downtown.
By the time the number 15 got us there, it was lunchtime. We know better than to start any adventure on empty stomachs, so we walked a few blocks further along to the McMenamin’s Market Street Pub. Set in the courtyard of a modern set if high-rise apartments, this is not one of their usual historic re-furbishments. But it is delightful, anyway.
We enjoyed our views of downtown passersby as we waited for the short-handed staff to bring us food. There was also some delightful art.
The McMenamins Company has a large staff of artists who give their establishments a unique look. Lyle Hehn is one of our favorites, and we saw his work here. His delightful surrealistic scenes pull you in, always showing you more. This one featured the McMenamin’s beer witch, Ruby, overseeing a dance party of wood carved Hammerheads.
When we were fed and ready, we headed off into the drizzle. After a tiny stop at Seasame Donuts (for Grandpa Nelson) we headed to ….Portland Museum of Art!
I love wandering around my neighborhood. I always see something unexpected.
This little sculpture, only about 6 inches high, sits on a big boulder placed along the sidewalk of Division Street. Placed close to the Philip Neary Church, someone has decorated this accordion player with a rosary. This is one of 8 such sculptures created by Crystal Schenk and Shelby Davis and installed in 2014. Collectively called “This All Happened, More or Less”, these pieces represent ordinary people calmly going about their business, reading, resting, or chatting.
A different sort of unexpected beauty is this graphically painted re-purposed school bus. I haven’t been able to find out what it is being used for now, but it looks like fun!
These bright pyracantha berries, a perfect winter food source for local birds, seem to glow in the sunshine.
And as I walked along, i noticed that the blustery wind was playing with my scarf in a very photogenic fashion. So I played along.
This season is mostly a grey one, but every now and the clouds blow away and we have bright, cold, sunshine. That was today.
We did chores during the morning and then headed off through the neighborhood to Zach’s Hot Dog Shack. The noon sun was almost blinding, and made the still-changing leaves magical.
We found some rhododendrons, being a bit early even for them, (or late, it’s hard to know which) popping blooms open just as the rest of the plants have called it quits for the year.
We enjoyed a chilly lunch on Zach’s patio, since the inside was pretty crowded with folks watching football. Grandpa Nelson and I played ping pong, which warmed us up a bit.
The walk home was lit with the warm afternoon light of Fall. This beautiful cat was just so fetching between the orange leaves.
We walked by St. Stephen’s Church, which has been on this corner in a mostly residential area since 1924. It is built of bricks and is very pretty.
It has a large front entrance with doors topped by Mary and Jesus chatting with monks, along with with these delightfully glazed ceramic faces.
And that was our outing for the day. It never really got above 45 degrees, and was just too chilly to be out for long. We came home, read, made art, and cooked.
On one of my walks through Lone Fir Cemetery, I investigated this tall graceful monument near the east entrance. I first noticed it because of the name, FIMPEL, which I had never seen before.
As I walked around the monument, I realized there were four names, all with different dates of death, and only two that shared a family name. Curious, I took pictures for reference and headed home to do some research.
Besides George W. Fimpel, who died in 1899 at the age of twenty, the monument remembered his father, George B. Fimpel, who died in 1886, Samuel McDonald, who died in 1898, and Laura V. Mutch, who died in 1904. Why are they all here together? I was puzzled, and the Historic Oregonian website wasn’t much help.
Grandpa Nelson and his Ancestry.com membership saved the day!
As clearly as I can understand it, this is a story of Laura V. Howell, who was born in Oregon City in 1859. She moved to Portland and married George B. Fimpel, who worked as a fireman on the railroad. They had two sons, George W. and Charles Howell. Mr. Fimpel died in an accident at work in 1886, when his son George was 13 and his youngest, Charles, was barely six months old.
Laura put up this monument to him and soon re-married, to Samuel McDonald. I cannot imagine the emotional upheaval of bearing a child, losing a husband, and re-marrying, all within the span of a year!
Laura and Samuel had two daughters, Laura L. and Mary Virginia, bringing Laura’s total to four children. Sadly, her eldest, George W, died at the age of twenty, just seven years after his father. Laura buried him with his father and added his name to the monument.
Mr. McDonald died in 1898 leaving Laura with three children, ages 14, 8, and 5. She buried him with her first husband and her son, adding yet another name to the stone.
Laura re-married again, to Mr. Edward Mutch, one year later. Mr. Mutch adopted the girls, now ages 9 and 6.
A few years later, in 1904, Laura herself passed away at the relatively young age of 45. Her surviving husband and children buried her under her family monument, adding her name (shortened to just her first name, middle initial and final legal last name), to the remaining side of the stone. What a complicated life story she wrote in just 45 years!
To bring this family story forward into my lifetime, Laura’s youngest son, Charles, lived for many years after his mother died. He survived serving in World War I and then moved to Los Angeles, where he passed away in 1962 at the age of 76. This means he and I were living in Los Angeles County at the same time!
Laura’s daughter Mary Virginia McDonald stayed in Portland, married a man named Dotson, and is buried in Lone Fir, less than ten feet from her mother, father, and step-family.
To me, this story tells a lot about the times and the people. Laura, as a widowed mother of young children, had no way to support herself or her kids. She needed to be married, so she got married. Premature death was much more common then, caused by anything from falling off a wagon to eating spoiled meat to catching one of a dozen deadly diseases common at the time, and multiple marriages were very common. She persevered and raised her kids.
I am so glad to have learned about Laura V. Howell Fimpel McDonald Mutch and her family.
Every now and then, I get to spend some quality time with your cousin Kestrel. She is ten years old and very clever. She likes animals and art and is very good at drawing.
Last week we got to make some art and care for her cats and snake, Sir Isaac Snooten. I haven’t fed a snake in a long time and was a little squeamish about handling the frozen mouse, but Kes had a steady hand and we got the job done.
The art we made took several days, and is still not finished. Kes found a large sheet of watercolor paper and sketched an ocean scene… eels and oysters below the water, sunset sky above. Together, we laid layers of purples and pink watercolors down, then sprinkled salt over the whole thing. We let it dry overnight.
The next time we got together, it was time for the water. Layers of purple and teal gave depth to the ocean, and Kes collaged tissue paper at the horizon for the setting sun. We cut small wave shapes from paint samples to glue down as the surface of the water, and that’s where the piece stands now, about half done.
Eating inside restaurants is only just now starting to feel safe. Covid chased us out onto patios and into the ”to go” line, but as Portland’s vaccinations have grown and more places are requiring proof of vaccinations to enter, we are more confident.
So Sunday, we spent a very pleasant evening at Suzette Creperie, one of the small restaurants just a block from our house. We met our new friend Judy (yes, another Judy!) for drinks and dinner.
The food is always tasty at Suzette, and the service is friendly. But what I really love is the ambiance. This word means the feeling of the place, the atmosphere…. how it makes you feel. Suzette, especially on a dark, chilly evening, reminds me of Paris.
And that’s always good.
Even Judy noticed it. This was her first visit and she said it felt like she’d ‘walked into a different world.’
For a few hours we had drinks, crepes, onion soup, and other delicious things, and shared stories. It was a warm way to spend a chilly evening.
I love that our city has a Street Art Association that helps local artists create murals on the walls of our stores. The SSA has helped create dozens of murals filled with history and art.
And today I got to see a beautiful new example. On the west wall of our little Belmont Market, some folks were painting a memorial to Leroy Sly Scott, a homeless man who lived in our neighborhood for almost thirty years. In my conversations with him, we talked about life, God, and goodness.
Leroy and his bust sculpted by the late Jim Gion
This past year, Leroy became very sick and was taken in by some kind neighbors. In his last weeks he rested peacefully, in a warm bed with a roof over his head. He passed away knowing that he was not alone.
Leroy’s portrait was designed and painted by Kyra Watkins and the lettering was designed by Alicia Schultz and painted by some of Leroy’s friends. The lettering spells out Leroy’s favorite quote from a Digital Underground song, and says, “All around the world, same song.”
As I stood chatting with the painters, a traffic officer stopped by to tell them they had to move their vans, which were parked in a loading zone. Everyone was pleasant, but the officer was very clear. “I have to see you move them.”
Later, as the sun was going down, the work was almost done.
I will walk over today and see how it turned out, and think about Leroy, and God, and goodness.
Dear Liza 