These are some photos I found when looking at shapes, and the use of blank space.

Splash and Dash by Michael Slezak, via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial Creative Commons license

I love that I can’t tell water from sky, or if there’s a horizon line at all, but the orientation is still perfectly clear.

Empty Spaces by Marie M (doozzle), via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial Creative Commons license

The absence of color makes the shape of the doorway compelling — what if the lighting were reversed?

Inverted Light by Jan Tik, via Flickr, released under an Attribution Creative Commons license

The shadows are more interesting than the trees themselves, and the way they cut the gold on the ground into abstract shapes.

Black & White Girl by Mr Blue Don, via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works Creative Commons license

This is a manipulated photo to blur the image purposely. I like that the shape is somewhat vague, and yet you still know exactly what it is.

I’m looking at color-scapes, as I ponder my next stole.

Shelter, by Jens Aarstein Holm, via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works Creative Commons License

The lighting in this one is particularly striking, especially on the grass.

From the Stage #47, by Dave Walker, via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike Creative Commons License

I love the use of focus here, and the red reflected on the microphone.

End Of The Day, by “CreativeSam,” via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial Creative Commons License

This one grabs me because it is the absence of color and light that create the focal point.

Painful Backache, by “BaboonTM,” via Flickr, released under an Attribution-Noncommercial Creative Commons License

And then there is the effect of one single solid color to make a statement. . . hmm, how would I quilt that damaged wall?

Friendship Quilt made for Ella Maria Deacon 1811–1894, United States, New Jersey, Mount Holly, from the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago

A while back on my Journal blog, before I started this one, I wrote about my consternation with the presentation of the Gee’s Bend quilts at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe. Basically, I found the “art-speak” surrounding the exhibit as an unwelcome distraction from the quilts themselves.

Yesterday, my husband and I went to the New Mexico Museum of Art looking for inspiration and some soul-soothing, and found more of the same pretentious commentary rather than a straightforward, intelligent presentation of works of art.

Perhaps we were spoiled by our former membership at the Art Institute of Chicago. But when the plaque on the wall, rather than simply presenting information about the artist and the materials used in the work, interprets the work for me in condescending, practically meaningless double-speak, I’m offended. Especially when what is written there tries to hammer home the “significance” of a piece due to the maker’s membership in a “movement” of art, whether or not the piece itself can stand on its own as any kind of statement to its viewer.

It’s one thing to offer context, information about the environment in which the artist made something, or events in the artist’s life and history, and quite another to explain a work’s “rich and important” symbolism or interpret an artist’s intent.

The presentation of the exhibits we saw yesterday practically screamed, “VALIDATE ME!” I wonder if this is a new trend in curating — preemptively defending the choices of particular pieces by “selling” them? Or is it a way of dumbing down the presentation of art to make it seem “Important” to a broader audience?

Whichever it might be, I find it disturbing both as an art-maker and an art-lover. Art is a dialogue between artist and viewer. It shouldn’t need a go-between.

from The Library of Congress.

The Library of Congress has put two rich collections of photographs on Flickr for public commenting and tagging, in a section called “The Commons.” I am just loving the 1930s and 40s in color — so much great history and color and eye candy, and all without copyright.

*note: this is a test post blogging directly from Flickr, so it may go through some variations.