Coffee on the Counter: Cups and Kitchens at MoMA

Cup of the Day #103

By Gwyneth Leech

Mixed media on Dixie paper coffee cup

Paper cups have a history! Once upon a time there were no paper cups, then one day there they were. In a tangential way, my family history intersects with that of the early paper cup. It was invented by Lawrence Luellen in 1907 and first manufactured in Pennsylvania, my home state. The first commercial use of paper cups was on the Lackawanna and Western Railway as a hygienic alternative to the metal dippers then attached to communal water barrels in each railway car. My great-grandfather, Alfred McCallum worked for the Lackawanna Railway at that very time, and since he was an inveterate tinkerer, inventor and man of progress, I can imagine how much he would have enjoyed their appearance.

Source: Retro Ads and Graphics

Dixie company was in on the paper cup thing early on. In fact, like Hoover and Kleenex and Xerox, Dixie has long been synonymous with paper cups. How fitting then to see that the Museum of Modern Art here in New York City has finally acknowledged the remarkable Dixie paper cup in its current show of everyday objects, Born Out of Necessity, reviewed recently by Roberta Smith.
We had one of those dispenser things in our kitchen growing up. Didn't everybody?

MoMA's design department does this kind of thing very well. I thoroughly enjoyed last year's Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen. The history of kitchen design in the 20th century was beautifully documented with objects, photos and artwork: from early century, awkwardly laid-out rooms which were the site of time consuming activity, to the pared-down and high-tech at the turn of the Millennium.
 

Moka Express c.1930, Aluminum and plastic

Designed by Alfonso Bialetti, Italian, 1888-1970

My eye was drawn of course to the tea and coffee pots. I was not at all surprised that the Bialetti 1930 espresso pot was included in that show or that it resides in their permanent collection. It is such a beautiful thing - heavy, faceted, sculptural. Many artists love it. They draw and paint it, they animate it. Some even use it to make coffee!

Instructions for Chemex Coffeemaker, 1941

Designed by Peter Schlumbohm

American, born Germany 1896-1962

I was not surprised that a two gallon Chemex coffee carafe was there too. It is a weird beast, a Rude Goldberg coffeemaker that I had never seen in real life. But there it was and a diagram of the heating elements and their correct placement revealed it as the science experiment it appears to be.

Macro Eight-Cup Percolator, 1946, Aluminum

Designed by Edward Condak, American

But I was amazed to see my grandma's 1946 aluminum percolator! It has a designer? Her percolator still sat on the top shelf of a cupboard when my parents finally decided to move out of their big Philadelphia house in 2004, and we threw it away. I can't say I have ever missed the battered thing, but it was nice to see it again at MoMA. And there it is again on the wall of my studio, in a little sketch my mother did of her mother c. 1950, when that coffee pot was the latest thing. I never even noticed it in that painting before! How very Bonnard.

"Morning Coffee",  Mixed media on paper

By Louise Gallagher Leech,  c. 1950

Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen is over, but Born Out of Necessity is on view at MoMa through January 2013. Go and see that Dixie cup! Certain classic tea and coffee pots are also part of the permanent design collection. And make sure to look closely in the painting and sculpture galleries on the fourth floor. A nod to tea and coffee time will reward you here and there! If you spot the images I am thinking of, let me know.

My Date with De Kooning

I always forget that MOMA is open on Mondays! How many Tuesday have found me there, surprised that the galleries are closed!?

 Seated Woman 1, by Stephen Roxborough

Gwyneth Leech's Hypergraphia Installation 

in the Flatiron Prow, 2011

But on a recent Monday, my day off from the Hypergraphia exhibit at the Flatiron, I remembered and made it in time for a member's morning with Willem de Kooning. Vigorous stuff before the first coffee of the day!  I was lucky to land on a docent-led tour and learned a lot.

Channeling De Kooning

Photo by Stephen Roxborough

Gwyneth Leech's Hypergraphia installation

in the Flatiron Prow, 2011

In the early rooms, a lot of influences are on view: the paintings conjure up Matisse, De Chirico, Picasso, even Hans Holbein in an exquisite pencil drawing of his wife, Elaine de Kooning from 1947.

From there he starts to splinter and jive, the work going in all directions at once, mixing and matching it with figuration and angular abstractions. The black and white paintings knocked my socks off. He could have stayed right there to the end of his days, but not de Kooning.

Willem De Kooning

Untitled, Oil on Board, 1937

Every time he got comfortable with a way of working, he moved on. He never tired of mixing it up between figuration and abstraction, but the how of it kept changing. The history of the female nude in the landscape is joyously reworked in all sorts of ways, for decades.

Willem de Kooning 

Painting, 1948, Oil and enamel on canvas

The docent talked at length about the painting "Woman 1",  about the two years he struggled with it, how it was abandoned, rolled up in the studio until Myer Shapiro told him how important it was, and how it should be exhibited with the other versions of the "Woman" series. In fact, it was shown at the Sidney Janis gallery in 1953 and made everyone mad. Good times. That's when artists know they are onto something.

 Willem de Kooning

Seated Woman, 1940

Oil and charcoal on Masonite

I was especially fascinated by the description of de Kooning's painting  process: the sheets of newspaper adhered at the end of a work day to keep the paint wet overnight, the scraping back, the painting wet into wet, the constant reworking of the same canvas, the collage elements pinned on as reference, then removed at the end, of cut out shapes pasted here and there to try things out.  All add up to deliberation disguised as insouciant aggression. I know how very difficult this immediacy is to achieve, having killed many a promising start to a painting. Once that initial gesture is put down, how hard it is to change it, how hard to keep the painting open and fresh.

Willem de Kooning

Woman 1, 1950-52

Oil on canvas, 6' 3 7/8" x 58"

On the wall at the entrance to the exhibit are six enlarged photos of the different states of "Woman 1". Fascinating! Each is a complete statement in itself, a painting then scraped away and gone forever. I hurried back and forth between these photos and the finished version. In the final painting hanging on the museum wall he breaks through at last from angularity and Picassoesque cubism to something different - raw, fluid, organic, ugly and irresistible. 

Willem de Kooning 

Untitled,  oil on canvas, 1987

I left the de Kooning show with an overwhelming urge to paint. Seven decades of unbridled art making! I want that too.

Fear of Shopping: Upstairs at Bergdorf's

On a whim, I entered Bergdorf's on 5th Avenue the other day and went upstairs. I look at the windows regularly, never miss them a Christmas. But inside I have not been above the luxury-packed ground floor for decades. I felt a little breathless as I ascended the narrow escalator.

Cup of the Day #68

Tower of Modified Greek Cups

by Gwyneth Leech

White-out, India ink and encaustic on

blue and white printed cups

The last, and only other time I was uspstairs in Bergdorf's was on a
day trip from Philadelphia with my mother and older sister. I was no more than 13. We came up several times a year to go to MOMA and galleries on 57th Street.

My mother loved beautiful department stores and saved up her money to buy lovely clothes that lasted for decades - classic pieces chosen with an unerrlng eye. In Philadelphia, if she could, she shopped at Bonwit Teller or John Wanamaker's. In New York City we only looked at things: art in museums, big buildings, shop windows. Maybe we bought lunch. On this day, after MOMA, we were up 5th Avenue looking in the windows at Bergdorf's, and the dresses were breathtaking - long, silk, simple Empire lines, but exquisitely hand-painted. Mother studied them, absorbed and suddenly we were inside and up the escalator to Dresses on the 2nd floor.

We were ushered to a dressing room and a sales assistant carried in several of the dresses we had seen in the window. Up close, they were even more beautiful. I don't remember the designer, but I vividly recall the feel of the peach-colored silk and the intricate painted patterns.

"Wow, mom, you will look great in those!" I exclaimed.

"No, dear, I want to see them on you."

The assistant stood there, holding the dresses. She made no signs to leave, and suddenly I understood - she was going to dress me!

I was engulfed in deep mortification.
My mother waited, my sister waited, the assistant waited.
There was nothing for it. Off came my clothes to reveal JC Penny's undergarments - mismatched, old and full of runs. This was worse than being hit by a bus!

The sales assistant was impassive. My mother and sister didn't look at me. Over my head went the dress, and the buttons were fastened. Then it was my sister's turn. She, of course, had on her best underclothes.

Clad in floor length gowns, we stood there in front of the mirror, transformed into fashion plates.

How much are they? my mother asked.

"$3000 a piece," replied the assistant.

I was frozen with fear. How would we ever get out of this store?

With unruffled calm, my mother said, "Well, I have to ask their father first. Do you have a card?"

A few minutes later we were in our own clothes and walking briskly down the street. "Mom, what are you going to do?" I asked, consumed with anxiety. She said nothing.

A few blocks away she stopped at a pay phone. Was she actually going to call dad and ask? She dropped in coins and dialed.

"I regret that their father says no," was all she said before hanging up.

My sister's face filled with genuine disappointment. I felt a surge of relief and admiration; who knew my mother could be so cool under pressure!

"Well girls," she said turning to us with a smile, "shall we go get a cup of tea?"

Upstairs at Bergdorf's, 2011

Photo by Gwyneth Leech

How to Juggle Art and Life: A Day Out with Barbara Ellmann

 Cup of the Day #14

Red Sienna Cup by Gwyneth Leech

India ink on white cardboard cup, 2009

Lipton tea company has upped its game. I am in the cafeteria at Adelphi University in Garden City, Long Island. I note a rack of Lipton tea bags in a variety of new and promising flavors. I try the chai black and it is actually strong and full of flavor. A change from the floor sweepings that make up their usual tea bags!

I am out here today with New York artists Ellen Stavistsky and Barbara Ellmann because Barbara has a solo show on in the Ruth S. Harley University Center Gallery, called Foreign Affairs and other Abstractions. The exhibition features three densely hung groups of her accomplished and colorful encaustic paintings.

The largest series, double hung, comprises compositions based on ethnic fabrics from around the world and the eye plays across a riot of patterns, creating new relationships along the way. The cool greens and blues of a second series evoke topography and were done after a recent artist residency in Florida.

The final group, of 50 waxed drawings hung in a grid, had me mesmerized. A product of daily practice, and using Parcheesi boards as a long-ago starting point, each pattern and color arrangement is different, as are the subtle tones of the Japanese paper she works on. The longer one looks the more one sees as each image relates without repeating.

Waxed Drawings installation
by Barbara Ellmann

Foreign Affairs and other Abstractions

Adelphi University 

 March 30th - April 15th, 2010

Barbara never ceases to amaze me. Not only is she in her studio painting regularly, she works as a museum educator at MOMA and with Lincoln Center Institute. She teaches encaustic workshops for R&F,  the encaustic paint manufacturers, and she devotes a good chunk of her time on a monthly basis to leading and galvanizing a large number of New York City artists into sharing business information amongst themselves. Her living principal is the more you give out the more comes back. On top of this, she has raised and launched a son, now at art school himself in California. She is an inspiration!

Foreign Affairs and other Abstractions is on through this Thursday, April 15th, open every day 11Am - 8PM. If you don't catch it there you can travel out to Brooklyn to see her commissioned glass panels at the Van Siclen Avenue subway stop (an MTA Arts for Transit commission), or the permanent installation of her encaustic panel paintings at the Cambria Heights Branch Library in Queens. Even better, take an encaustic workshop with her, bookable here through R&F. It looks like there is one coming up in June.

Encaustic Panel
by Barbara Ellmann

Foreign Affairs and other Abstractions

Adelphi University 

March 30th - April 15th, 2010

The Artist is Present - Proceed with caution

 

 Cup of the Day #13

Bone Cup by Gwyneth Leech

India ink and white-out pen 

on white cardboard cup, 2010

There is a lot of pain and suffering going on right now at the Museum of Modern Art.

First, there was the excruciating crush of people waiting to get into the galleries first thing in the morning, most drawn by Marina Abramovic's show the Artist is Present. Then there was the gray and stricken face of Marina herself, in only her second face-off with a visitor that day, locking eyes across the hard wooden table in the atrium where she is sitting on a chair for 70 days, motionless, all day long. She is almost a month into the show and this is clearly a monumental feat of endurance.

I am there with my daughter Grace, age six, and we are cross-legged on the floor just outside the white tape which delineates a large empty space around Marina and her table and chairs. Grace is absorbed in the view of Marina. "I want to touch it" she says. Is it a statue? I explain she can't touch.
The visitor's chair is now free. "I want to sit in the chair". I explain she can't. There is already a long line of people who want to sit and silently communicate with Marina.

Grace stands up abruptly "I don't like that lady", she says as she marches off.

We go up to the 6th floor. A docent warns us about the nudity in the Abramovic show. But the sound, not the nudity is the problem. At the doorway of the first gallery we listen to the moaning, groaning, rasping and slapping sounds emanating from a roomful of early videos playing simultaneously. U turn.

We try the final rooms of the exhibit, walking quickly by the slow-mo videos and light box shots of Marina's punished and bleeding torso from a recent re-performance, and go round a corner. I am briefly startled by the incredibly high resolution of the image of a completely naked woman seemingly suspended on the wall until I realize it is in fact a flesh and blood naked woman precariously balanced on a tiny saddle, in mid-air. It is such a large sight that Grace doesn't seem to see it at all. At that moment she says loudly, "I want a snack!". Definitely times for a another U turn. There is just no way I can explain any of this to her!

After a welcome interlude in the 2nd floor cafe - cinnamon crisp and a delightful latte with an elegantly patterned topping of foam - we spend several hours watching giant projections of William Kentridge movies in the exhibition of his work which is on until May 13th. She is completely taken with the flow of collage and drawn images, watching every film to the end and some twice. (I count at least four cafetieres.) She seems undisturbed by images of torture and destruction scattered through the Anti-Apartheid animations from the 1990s . Finally she announces, "I love this show" and "I want to draw, right now".

Fortunately, MOMA has provided a Shape Lab in the education wing with many great hands-on activities and art materials for kids of all ages to respond to what they see in the galleries and make their own art, open through August 30th.  However, if you loved the Abramovic show and want to find a place to hurt yourself in a meditative fashion, I am afraid you have to go somewhere else.

 MOMA Latte

April 2010

Flying Coffee Pots

 

 Cup of the Day #3

Brush pens on white cups

from Amy's Bread

(English Breakfast Tea with milk)

Drawn in the studio

2009

Broke off my preparations for showing at Pool Art Fair to swing by the Armory Show preview at piers 92 and 94 last night. Much big hair and eventful outfits in the festive throng. Some art leaving the building in bubble wrap - a good omen. Went round every inch in my high heels. Could hardly walk this morning. I never wear heels. Now I remember why.

Here's my shopping list: Both of those tiny works on paper by Antony Gormley and the photo of Marina Abramovic's gold flecked face, both at Sean Kelly gallery, and a Nick Cave suit from Jack Shainman gallery. Over on the secondary market pier I will take several of the Morandi paintings and all three Emile Nolde water colors. Nice to see Callum Innes' immaculate half color-field reductive paintings in several of the contemporary galleries (a shout-out to Callum. We did our graduate studies together at Edinburgh College some years back) but too big for my New York apartment, I fear. And that blue Anish Kapoor is a dream but I can just see my six year old literally falling into it.

But never mind the art. Let's talk about something we can afford. The coffee they are selling on site won't kill you, and the small selections of teas aren't Lipton, but really you should venture off campus. Sure the immediate environs are a desert, but boldly walk East on 52 Street to 10th and try the delightful La Bergamote Patisserie for a gleaming espresso machine and eye-popping french pastry. Even better,  go one more block south and hit Cafe Forant on 51st between 10th and 9th. Great coffee, small selection of nice tea. Chef Lea Forant's brunch is out this world (yes to the Croque Madame) as is Carolyn Montogomery's conversation. In her own right, Carolyn is a splendid cabaret artist and a person to know. Oh, and they serve lavander lemonade all year round. An awesome concoction.

From Armory to MOMA at 9 PM for the benefit party. A press of multicultural glitterati in mostly black. Our ears were assaulted by dirge-like music from several art bands (what was that all about?) but our eyes dazzled by Sean Capone's gignatic projections of slowly morphing floral fields on the walls of the atrium.


MOMA has awesome coffee and great tea in any one of its cafes, but last night all were closed. Refreshment was provided by several huge open bars but the only coffee on offer was in the William Kentridge exhibition where to my delight the artist draws with coffee in several short films and in the grand finale of another sends his cafetiere as a rocket ship to the moon.

 

 

Guest Cup of the Day #1

Stills from William Kentridge's

7 Short Films for George Melies 

February 24 - May 17, 2010

at MOMA, NYC