Closer to Close

"This sold out weeks ago. You are the lucky ones."

So said VMFA Director Alex Nyerges to a packed theater moments before legendary artist Chuck Close took the stage, but not before curator John Ravenal spoke of Close's commitment to portraiture in an era of abstract expressionism as well as Close's devotion to the mechanics of representation.

The event took a conversational format with Close's friend of 42 years, author Christoper Finch, using slides to generate talking points between himself and the artist.

As thrilled as I was to be in the presence of this man, I could have generated endless questions myself with nothing more than curiosity and nosiness, but visuals are nice, too.

Finch recalled first meeting Close and described his outfit at the time as a denim work shirt with a white t-shirt underneath, "That was before Soho black," Close explained, "back when artists had to look like workers." It was the first of his many humorous observations throughout the evening.

Finch showed a slide of a young Close in magician's garb and Close said that he thought painting was the most magical of medias because it allowed, "conjuring up illusions to fool people."

Sipping Scotch as he answered questions and reminisced, Close talked about his learning disabilities, his decision to go to grad school to avoid the draft ("I owe everything to Fidel," he said), and his presumption that art collectors would be jerks ("Except for Frances [Lewis]!" he wisely said, knowing that local legend and great modern art collector was in the audience).

Unlike Warhol who was then painting celebrities, Close wanted to paint anonymous people, preferably those with life experience. "It's hard to paint a baby. They haven't had a life, so they have no wrinkles, the kind of stuff I love to paint."

Some of what he shared was fascinating for its look into the mind of an artist. He said that it's impossible for him to be working on two paintings concurrently. He mentioned that he is still working off of the same 1968 photo of Philip Glass that he has been using since the first portrait he did of Glass. "I need to retire it," he laughed.

And why portraits? "The face is a road map of the life experience you've had," he said simply. He cited Vermeer as his favorite all-time painter. Woman in a Red Hat, his favorite Vermeer, is
"compressed energy in a 6" by 9" painting." He referred to her mouth as "the greatest orifice in the history of painting." Such a wonderful acknowledgement.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Ravenal was back on stage telling Close and Finch that the two had a mere five minutes left. When the artist suggested taking questions, the curator informed him that they weren't set up for questions. "Boo!" Close said to the audience, most of whom would have no doubt loved to ask something, anything of this man.

So things were summarily wrapped up and Close made his final witty observation. "The slides ran out at the exact same time as the Scotch ran out."

Now that's artistry.

A Sunny Saturday in Two Parts

Part One, in which I was told, "Our delivery guy thought you had great legs."

A friend and I had made plans to meet for breakfast at Ettamae's Cafe followed by a walk to the VMFA to see two new exhibits.

A simple plan, really.

Except that upon meeting up in J-Ward, my friend realized he'd left his wallet at home.

And last night he'd left his sunglasses at the restaurant where he works.

So we began our Saturday morning with a walk to his new digs, which worked out well because I hadn't seen the new apartment yet, followed by sunglasses retrieval.

Only then did we go to breakfast.

Thankfully I'd had a banana before leaving the house is all I'm saying.

Having so enjoyed lunch at Ettamae's the other day, I was just as pleased with breakfast today.

I had a couple of eggs perfectly cooked (as Holmes says, "Not everyone has a way with eggs.") with three strips of bacon, buttered toast and homemade strawberry jam.

My friend had one of the specials, French toast stuffed with bananas and blueberries with a raspberry and blueberry sauce.

We agreed that a couple of the other specials, namely the meatloaf eggs Benedict and the kielbasa, onions and pepper eggs Benedict had a lot of hearty appeal, too.

Having already criss-crossed the Ward several times before sitting down to breakfast, we practically inhaled our food, or at least it seemed that way to us.

Our server even made a crack about my friend all but having licked his plate clean.

I think I left two scraps of crust on my plate and only because I'd run out of that wonderful jam.

As I told my friend, this is the first year in well over a decade that I didn't go strawberry picking and make jam with the spoils, so I was especially appreciative of someone else's efforts to give me fresh strawberry jam, something I didn't expect to enjoy because of my own laziness.

My breakfast was a mere five bucks, so I can foresee Ettamae's becoming a frequent breakfast spot for this neighbor.

I've already decided who my next breakfast companion will be because I can see his hearty appetite being quite satisfied there.

And musically? Green Day to REM, so no complaints from me...on any score.

I like you, Ettamae.

Part Two, in which I was told, "You're like a drug with no bad side effects."

Afterwards we walked to the museum to see "Chuck Close: People Who Matter to Me" and experience the recent installation of Jun Kaneko's colossal ceramics in the sculpture garden.

We were thrilled to see how busy the museum was at 11:30 in the morning, positively buzzing.

This renovation has been like a spark to the city and I get excited anew every time I walk into it.

Part of the reason for my enthusiasm is what the renovation has dropped at my doorstep.

The Corcoran Gallery of Art has just opened an exhibit "Chuck Close Prints: Process and Collaboration," a show I would surely have driven up the soul-sucking 95 to see pre-renovation.

Instead, a sunny walk puts me in front of two dozen Close works spanning 1974 to the present.

And the Corcoran show would have cost me $10 plus gas and parking.

I can't speak to that show, but the exhibit at VMFA is stellar, with Close works in every medium from tapestry (absolutely amazing and I defy you to recognize it as tapestry on first glance) to large-format Polaroids, even daguerreotypes and pulp collages.

Because Close is a portrait artist, we see images of many of his artistic friends and patrons, always with a photograph having been the starting point.

The variety of processes used is mind-boggling, as is his habit of working up close and not standing back to view a piece in total until the end of the process.

The man may be 70 but his ability to capture the essence of a person is timeless.

After so much up close art, we headed outside to inspect the new sculpture garden, which is on its way to being the talk of the town.

The monumental blue three-ton head by Jun Kaneko is a stunner.

You can't help but touch its ceramic finish and I couldn't help but wish I'd seen it lowered into place.

It invites a walk around.

Nearby are eight totem-like forms, each about 9' tall and with a different overall design.

They are referred to as dangos (meaning dumplings, which, for some reason, delights me) and there is such a variety in how they have been painted that each one feels like a completely new experience, despite the identical forms.

I was fascinated to learn of the industrial kilns they were fired in and for weeks (!) at a time.

It's ceramics on a scale I could not have imagined but which invite lingering as I made my way around the garden.

Toto, I don't think we're in Richmond anymore.

But of course we are and therein lies our great good fortune.

Every time I've gone to the VMFA since the reopening, and this was my fifth time, I completely forget that I'm not in a big city museum.

No, I'm in a big town museum, the state museum of Virginia, and it's the gift of a lifetime to RVA.

Art geek that I am, I intend to slowly unwrap it every chance I get.