Musings of an Artist's Wife

Four for Mardi Gras

2012-01-27T11:08:00.002-06:00

It’s impossible to live in the Gulf South and ignore Mardi Gras. It spreads from Galveston to the Florida Panhandle, affecting our judgment, so that ‘normal’ becomes beads, wigs, costumes and masks.

(pictured, Four for Mardi Gras, 2012, 24x38 inches, edition 190)

In New Orleans we expect parade traffic most evenings and all weekends, shrugging our shoulders, ditching our cars, and missing whatever obligations we set out to make, standing instead on the neutral ground* and shouting,

“Throw me something, Mister!”

…or, in the case of the all-female Muses parade,

“Throw me something, Sister!”

Like me, George Rodrigue grew up with Mardi Gras. His mother dressed him in costume for the country parades and balls. He’s been king or grand marshal of various krewes* from Lafayette to New Orleans to Washington D.C., where 5,000 Louisiana residents gather annually for a three-day Mardi Gras extravaganza. (related post here)

(pictured, George Rodrigue with his cousin Arlene, dressed for Mardi Gras in New Iberia, Louisiana, 1949)

For the past ten years, my sister Heather and I ride in the Krewe of Muses parade. This year, for the first time, we ride on the coveted Float Number One! Not only do we have the honor of greeting the crowds at the head of this magnificent and popular parade, but also we vary in head gear from the other Muses floats.

(Our wigs, custom-made by Fifi Mahony’s, sit on display in our living room on the heads of Jeff Koons’s famous Puppy and George Rodrigue’s tribute, a junk shop sculpture he painted blue)

This week, after purchasing our wigs, Heather and I, wearing dresses and heels, strolled down Royal Street for the fun of it. Used to anything on the streets of New Orleans, most people passed us with barely a glance, our confidence contributing to our normalcy. One comment, however, stands out:

“You guys look great!”

...exclaimed a well-dressed gentleman, confirming our drag queen suspicions. At 5’10” without the wigs, Heather and I tower at about 6’5” in our heels and hair.

“I can’t believe he missed our curves,”

...mumbled Heather, as I smiled and hollered “Thank you” towards our admirer.

Mardi Gras runs in our blood. Our mother, Mignon McClanahan Wolfe, reigned as Queen of the Fort Walton Beach Mardi Gras in 1993-4. Along with her wedding day, she spoke of it as the best day of her life, an occasion she prepared for over the course of a year, seeking the right dress and shoes, decorating the stage, and practicing her dance routine, as she boogied in the ballroom of the Okaloosa Island Ramada Inn.

Admittedly, George and I have slowed a bit in our Mardi Gras enthusiasm, unable to sustain the non-stop weeks of parades and parties while fulfilling other obligations. We still attend the Washington D.C. festivities; we occasionally ride on the Blue Dog float in the Argus parade; we dress in formal attire and drag our cooler into the Superdome for the Endymion Extravaganza; and (our favorite), we stand in our Faubourg Marigny window watching the Krewe du Vieux.

This year, at the request of the Sheraton Hotel, George decorated a slice of Canal Street. (click photo to enlarge)

Over the coming weeks, I’ll post stories of our Mardi Gras adventures and trace, in words and pictures, George Rodrigue’s years as King. I hope you'll stay tuned...

And Happy Mardi Gras!

Wendy

*'neutral ground': New Orleans-speak for 'median'

*'krewe': Mardi Gras-speak for 'club'

-I hope you also enjoy “Remembering Etta James and More,” my latest story for Gambit Weekly, linked here

-for more Rodrigue Mardi Gras images, see the post "Mardi Gras Silkscreens: A History," linked here

Risky Business

2012-01-20T13:36:00.005-06:00

"It is a dangerous business going out your front door."*

This morning I watched from my desk in Carmel Valley, California as a great-horned owl took a bath. It glanced at me, assessed the danger, and then continued, even as I eased open the glass door and stepped into the rain, camera ready.

We all know that the greatest chance for joy and inspiration comes with the greatest risk of pain. It’s the reason we stay in a ‘dangerous’ city, New Orleans; it’s the reason we argue the murder-rate and dismiss dramatic press; it’s the reason we stare dumbfounded at anyone suggesting, following 2005, that we leave or, worse, let it go. (For a related post, see "For New Orleans")

(This year I'm over-the-moon excited to ride on the giant shoe, Float #1, of the Muses Parade, February 16th; photo by Tabitha Soren)

On the plane last month from New Orleans to the Monterey Peninsula, I thought, as I do on every flight, about artist Georgia O’Keeffe looking down on the clouds, inspired to paint the experience. I thought of my grandmother Helen McClanahan and her hours of 1950s videotaped sky, taken through the airplane window as she puddle-jumped from New Orleans to Lafayette to Houston to Fort Worth. And I checked my superstitions and fear, replacing any form of the word “death” in my book with any form of the word “life,” as I replayed in my head a line I heard years ago on a TV show I can’t recall:

The most important thing holding this machine in the sky is the combined will of the passengers.

O’Keeffe was a brave woman, making art in a man’s world, resettling alone in the New Mexico desert.

(pictured, a photograph from our collection hangs in my Carmel office, Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz by Arnold Newman 1944)

My grandmother (pictured below as Grand Matron of the Order of the Eastern Star) was also a brave woman, traveling alone in the 1950s and 1960s far beyond New Orleans and Fort Worth to Singapore, Thailand, Africa and India.

We choose our dangers and balance risks against rewards. I recall the waiver we signed several years ago, as George and I rafted the Grand Canyon with friends:

You understand that you might die on this trip.

By day two our terror of the ten-rated rapids morphed into elation, as we hooked our arms through the trampoline’s ropes and plunged into the freezing water, pulled off balance by rocks and a raging current. We hiked, climbing straight up in the 110-degree heat, to waterfalls and Anasazi drawings. At one point, four days in and now fearless, I swam (blind, lest I lose my glasses) through a deep pond to a mossy cave, where I scrambled like Gollum from Lord of the Rings to an opening thirty feet above. Standing at the cave’s window, I stared across the water at my fuzzy friends, cheering me on and reminding me to clear the rocks below.

For the first time since my childhood, I held my nose, leaping, falling, sinking, choking, laughing …. and living.

(See photos of the great-horned owl splashing in our pool this morning here-)

What’s the biggest risk you ever took? I asked George Rodrigue, who skipped that Grand Canyon leap.

I assumed his answer involved the train from New Iberia to Los Angeles, calling himself ‘Cajun’ when Cajun wasn’t cool, or painting a Blue Dog when everyone (from the art world to his personal world) questioned his sanity.

Instead he replied, without hesitating,

“Marrying you.”

Wendy

*“It is a dangerous business going out your front door,” wrote J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973)

-for more photos of George Rodrigue this week at his easel, please join me on facebook

-for more by Wendy Rodrigue, visit Gambit Weekly, linked here

Swamp Dogs: A Series on Metal

2012-01-17T11:28:00.001-06:00

More than a year in the making, George Rodrigue’s Swamp Dogs combine print, photography and varnish on large sheets of metal, resulting in a unique perspective of the Louisiana landscape.

Beyond materials, however, the series originates with two stories. Rodrigue, a Cajun artist for forty-five years, illustrates Louisiana lore including not only the loup-garou, but also, in this case, allusions to the feux follets, or swamp gas.

-click photos to enlarge-

“It comes from the earth and explodes at night into large balls of fire,” explains Rodrigue. “The Cajuns thought it was something magical – a swamp mystery they couldn’t explain – when actually it was natural gas ignited by static electricity.”

The loup-garou legend, the origin of Rodrigue’s Blue Dog, talks of a crazy wolf-type animal living in the swamp.

“With Swamp Dogs, I combine these mysteries, the loup-garou and the feux follets.”

Before releasing the series last month, Rodrigue experimented for more than a year, both in paint and photography, ultimately combining the two mediums within his computer.

“In the minds of the Cajuns, the feux follets was magic, but real, just as the loup-garou was mythical, but true. To inject reality, I started with my photographs of the Atchafalaya Basin and altered them, stretching shapes and changing colors. The loup-garou is in the water, through the water, and part of the water.”

Using computer technology, Rodrigue combines his imagination with reality. He painted several versions of the Blue Dog, scanned them into the computer, over-laying them onto his altered photographs. He manipulated these computer collages, increasing saturation but reducing the colors to only five or six, lending varying levels of transparency.

“I blended the photographs and painted imagery onto metal surfaces, using archival ink on aluminum so that parts of the metal show through, such as the dog’s nose and areas of the swamp. They appear as raw metal, as does a two-inch border around the final artwork.”

Finally, Rodrigue focuses on scale, with an average size of 3x5 feet.

“The larger the scale, the more stretched the photograph. The metal becomes more obvious, as does the color enhancement.”

At this time, Swamp Dogs includes six versions, each an edition of 10, all pictured within this post and on view at Rodrigue’s galleries. The computer screen does them little justice ……an irony, considering the artwork’s digital origins. I encourage you to view these exquisite, unique works in person.

Wendy

-read about the first annual George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts Digital Art Contest here

-new for Gambit Weekly, in honor of Louisiana’s Bicentennial, I hope you enjoy the following essays:

“The Creole Gourmet Society,” featuring George Rodrigue’s paintings of early 20th century dinner clubs, and “Cora’s Restaurant,” a look back at CODOFIL and our French heritage, including Rodrigue’s classic painting He-bert, Yes – A Bear, No

Farewell to Exhibitions; Welcome to Painting

2012-01-03T12:22:00.009-06:00

George Rodrigue and I spent much of the past eighteen months on the road visiting museums and communities for exhibitions, lectures, and education events coordinated by the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts (GRFA) and the New Orleans Museum of Art, which organized the tour as part of its 100th birthday celebration.

Locations included Baton Rouge (pictured above, during a painting and cooking demo with Chef Paul Prudhomme), Lake Charles, Slidell, Shreveport, Alexandria, Monroe, Auburn University, Little Rock, and the Florida Panhandle. (click any of these cities for the story and photos from that event).

The tour made for a rewarding year, as we raised money and awareness for arts education, the focus of George’s foundation. In Louisiana, these efforts strengthened the success of GRFA’s annual art contest, now in its third year. In addition to scholarship money, this year’s first place winner, announced next month, works with George Rodrigue on the Official Bicentennial Poster, celebrating the two hundredth birthday of Louisiana’s statehood.

Last summer we opened the GRFA Education Center on Magazine Street in New Orleans and participated in our first White Linen Night (story here), followed by Dirty Linen Night the following week in the French Quarter, events we’ve missed in the past while in California.

In addition, George Rodrigue received in 2011 the Distinguished Eagle Award from the National Boy Scouts of America (story here) and the James William Rivers Prize from the Center for Louisiana Studies at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. His Number One Tiger Fan raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for the LSU Museum of Art, the Tiger Athletic Foundation, and the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts.

For George Rodrigue, these programs and exhibitions left him with little time to paint. We spent just a brief few weeks at his Carmel studio, so that in one year he created only a handful of paintings, most in New Orleans in between openings. He also painted during more than a dozen public demonstrations, when he worked quickly and with large brushes before an audience, such as the examples pictured at the top of this post.

(Most of Rodrigue's 2011 studio paintings are enormous in scale, such as At the Head of the Red River, 48x72, pictured below; see more here)

In late 2011, however, he completed a one-year project, Swamp Dogs, a series of six large-scale prints on chrome. (Pictured below, Swamp Dogs Series #1, 48x58 inches; I’ll detail the complete series in a blog post later this month)

-click the photo to enlarge-

I spent 2011 recording our travels and sharing in depth studies of George’s art (see the categories to the right of this post). I also marked one year of writing for the New Orleans newspaper Gambit Weekly and began a new blogging project for Country Roads Magazine, as well as contributing essays on numerous Louisiana artists to the book The Bicentennial History of Art in Louisiana (published April 2012) and KnowLA: The Digital Encyclopedia of Louisiana History and Culture, projects sponsored by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities.

Although I enjoyed writing, the news was not always welcome. If we lump the artist-losses together, 2011 could be like the day the music died, but for art. In August I wrote for Gambit about my favorite, Lucian Freud (1922-2011), whose 2005 Venice exhibition entranced me for days, as I wandered alone or dragging George, my obsession and questions trying his patience.

In December we lost John Chamberlain (1927-2011), the great contemporary sculptor whose work, as pictured above with George Rodrigue and Houston collector Don Sanders, was nothing more than crushed cars to some, while a brilliant statement of Minimalism to others. -click photo to enlarge

The art world mourned Helen Frankenthaler and Cy Twombly, both 1928-2011, American Abstract Expressionist painters heralding from within the worlds of Willem de Kooning (1904-1997) and Robert Motherwell (1915-1991). I thought about blogging on these artists but changed my mind when I read New Orleans artist Mallory Page’s succinct statement:

“I hope somewhere in their last days they sent out a spirit passing the torch to a new generation to bloom; and I hope, somewhere, some of that breeze hits me.”

(pictured, a painting by New Orleans artist Mallory Page; click photo to enlarge)

Page’s thoughts transition nicely into the New Year – not only for her – but also for George Rodrigue, who plans five months at his easel, creating with a time and mental dedication unavailable to him since series such as Bodies and Hurricanes. In other words, expect surprises in 2012.

His plans also include paintings for upcoming exhibitions at the Amarillo Museum of Art (opening August 2012) and the National Steinbeck Center (opening Fall 2013).

Most thrilling, we’ll hit the road in our truck, resuming our annual cross-country drives,* this time incorporating three weeks in April exploring the state of Texas. I look forward to sharing our adventures and George’s paintings with you throughout the year at Musings of an Artist’s Wife, Gambit Weekly, Country Roads Magazine, Facebook and Twitter.

Many thanks, as always, for reading. Happy New Year to all!

Wendy

*for a few of our favorite past adventures from the road, including Texas, New Mexico, New York and more, see the links under “RODRIGUE ON THE ROAD,” listed to the right of this story

--George sends a big ‘hello’ to Antonia Valpredo (pictured below) of Luigi’s – a highlight from our Bakersfield New Years Eve -- where he drew an alligator on the restaurant's famous bread, ala Galatoire's (for the Galatoire's story and painted bread from the famous New Orleans restaurant, see the tail end of the post "The Sketchbook")

Happy Christmas

2011-12-13T09:27:00.003-06:00

So this is Christmas

And what have you done

Another year over

And a new one just begun*

I wandered through college with a guilt complex. Like many naïve students, inspired by a voting voice and new knowledge, I embraced the world’s problems as my own, determined to improve things somehow, even as I failed in family relationships and winced at dateless Saturday nights.

Looking back, it was a crazed mental time, when a skipped meal, prayed over, transported magically to a starving child; when vegetarianism meant one less chicken in the over-crowded coop; and when five spare dollars in my checking account meant more money that Sunday in the offering plate.

I saw need everywhere, a vision I gradually narrowed, or at least focused, lest I went crazy. Although some of us remain protesters and activists as we age, most concentrate at some point on peace within our own home as opposed to peace on earth. Despite this age-accompanying cynicism, I still believe that one person’s actions make a difference, and that even a small difference counts.

Children see the world with broad vision. They love and give without worrying about perception. “We’re all artists, Ms. Wendy,” explained a young girl recently, as I complimented her on her painting.

Children also see beauty where adults might miss it. “If you stand here,” said a child, as she held my hand in the Besthoff Sculpture Garden, “the light shines from underneath the trees, just like in Mr. George’s paintings.”

(pictured, The Tree Where I Sat, 2009, 24x30, oil on canvas)

I was a sophomore at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas when I met Gladys at the H.E.B. She struggled with her cane and over-sized handbag as she loaded her groceries into the trunk of a cab while the driver sat helpless, rolling his eyes with impatience.

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Alamo Heights,”

...she replied, referring to the old and, were this New Orleans, ‘uptown’ nearby neighborhood.

She trusted me, and I gave her a ride to a Tudor-style house, classic and cracking on the outside, decaying and 1950s within.

I recognized the old-lady smell, the one that comes from piles of junk mail and dusty lace tablecloths, from floral hand cream and moldy wallpaper, from warmed leftovers and stale coffee. Except for a tic-toc, the house was deadly quiet, as though no one disturbed its air with laughter or speech in years.

Gladys looked like Miss Havisham, and her home, although not quite Satis House, sat neglected and lonely. We made a date.

(pictured, The Shadows of New Iberia, 1969, 16x20, oil on canvas)

That Friday, I fetched Gladys for lunch. She wore her vintage Sunday best to the Mexican cantina (paid for with an advance from my job at the school auditorium) and afterwards served me tea from her floral Windsor china, as we made small talk on a plastic-covered faded blue sofa.

As I recall those days, it’s the silence that screams loudest in my memories, broken only by the metered sound of the old clock and Gladys’s hesitant answers to my predictable questions:

Tell me about your husband. What is the name of this china pattern? Shall I refill your tea?

We repeated this visit every Friday for more than a year, eventually expanding our afternoons to include museums, the Alamo, and Olmos Pharmacy (for chocolate malts). Along with my peer tutor class, we decorated a Christmas tree, her first in many years. Holiday music filled the house from a student’s boom box.

(pictured, Tree Topper, 2000, 20x16, silkscreen)

In January of my junior year, I joined a study-abroad program in Vienna, Austria. Gladys protested, but I left her anyway, and two months later she died.

The following year I returned from Europe, changed but still -- perhaps more -- guilty. The modern world seemed incongruous with my intense journey through Art History. Without Gladys, I sought diversions. I volunteered at the local A.I.D.S. clinic. One by one, scared young men (because honestly – they were all scared young men) dropped in for testing. Within weeks I answered the A.I.D.S. suicide hotline, forwarded to my college apartment’s phone on Monday nights.

I was an unqualified, healthy, heterosexual twenty-one year old girl. But it was the 1980s, and young gay men died faster than counselors were trained. People feared the infection, and volunteers were scarce. My mother worried, correctly and on several levels, that I didn’t know what I was doing. But this was my protest, my creed, and in my mind, I had no choice.

We all remember when we were young and set out to change the world. Maybe you held a picket sign, chained yourself to a tree, or delivered Meals on Wheels. Maybe you still look at the world in this way, out to make a difference.

My sister and I learned this vision from our mother. Despite barely covering the weekend’s hot checks with Monday’s paycheck, she sent money every month, along with our letters, to Ernik Tukiman in Indonesia, a child matched to our family by World Vision.

(Thirty-five years later, Ernik’s photograph still hangs on our Christmas tree).

I asked George Rodrigue about those years in his own life, and his answer surprised me:

“All I wanted was to get to art school.”

His focus paid off, and he fulfilled that dream and more, supporting his family with his art by his mid-twenties. George’s generosity of time and money kicked in later, first in small ways in his Lafayette community, and later with large-scale projects for the Boy Scouts of America, the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, the Red Cross following 9/11, the International Child Art Foundation, humanitarian and arts-related relief following Hurricane Katrina, and countless small-town projects involving festival posters, student lectures and more.

Today, through the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts (GRFA), these efforts are near full-time, with programs devoted to the arts and education.

At one point, we all realize that the joy of giving cannot match the weight of need. Even through GRFA, it is impossible for George to reach every school, anymore than I could befriend every lonely old lady, or my mother feed every child. But does it mean we shouldn’t try?

And so this is Christmas

I hope you have fun

The near and the dear one

The old and the young*

Wishing you and yours a joyous, giving holiday-

Wendy

-also this week: "Highlights of a Blogging Year" - your favorites and mine from Gambit's Blog of New Orleans, linked here

-for more paintings, photographs, and discussion, please join me on facebook

*John Lennon and Yoko Ono, "Happy Christmas (War is Over)," 1971

George Rodrigue: Painting Louisiana

2011-12-05T11:26:00.002-06:00

Note: Based on an essay scheduled for publication in an upcoming book* celebrating Louisiana’s bicentennial, published in April 2012 by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities, this blog version includes added images, as well as links throughout, referring you to specific relevant posts and websites.

Born and raised in New Iberia, Louisiana, George Rodrigue (b. 1944) determined his future in art while sick with polio as a child. His mother brought him paint-by-numbers, a 1950s invention, to ease his boredom. Eight year-old Rodrigue used the paints and canvases, however, to paint not the suggested country lanes and Last Suppers, but rather fire trucks, monsters, and alligators. Following a full recovery, he set his course on art and never wavered.

Seeking a formal art education, Rodrigue enrolled in 1962 at the University of Southwest Louisiana (now the University of Louisiana at Lafayette), where he studied Abstract Expressionism. It was his project for Professor Calvin Harlan’s design class that proved most useful when he applied to art school. His design book secured his acceptance to the prestigious Art Center College of Design (then located in Los Angeles; now in Pasadena), where Rodrigue studied not only the fundamentals of art such as figure drawing, but also graphic design, illustration, automotive design, and photography. Most important, at Art Center Rodrigue studied for the first time with working artists, significantly Lorser Feitelson, the master of Hard Edge Painting.

(pictured, Pop Goes the Ads, a mixed media by Rodrigue, 1966 - click photo to enlarge-)

In California (1963-1967) Rodrigue also admired Pop Art when Andy Warhol premiered his Campbell’s Soup Cans at the Ferus Gallery. Furthermore, the literal and figurative distance from south Louisiana influenced the young artist, who worried that his unique Cajun culture faded within a modern world of television and travel. Unlike his Art Center classmates, who pursued careers in the art capital, New York City, Rodrigue returned home, using the hard edge and pop influences of California to paint the landscape and people of Louisiana. Ultimately Rodrigue graphically interpreted his culture, coining a new phrase, “Cajun Artist.”

(pictured, Aioli Dinner by George Rodrigue, 1971, Collection of the New Orleans Museum of Art)

In 1974 Rodrigue won an Honorable Mention for his painting The Class of Marie Courrege at the historic Le Salon des Artistes in Paris, prompting a review from the French newspaper, Le Figaro, which dubbed him “America’s Rousseau.” And in 1976 he wrote the first national publication on the Cajun culture, The Cajuns of George Rodrigue (Oxmoor House). The National Endowment for the Arts gifted the book to Rosalind Carter, who chose it as an official White House Gift of State during the Carter Administration.

Rodrigue first painted what would become his most famous image, the Blue Dog, in 1984, imagined for a collection of ghost stories. The book Bayou (Chris Segura, Inkwell Press) included forty Louisiana tales, including the loup-garou, a werewolf or ghost dog said to lurk in cemeteries and sugar cane fields. As a boy, Rodrigue’s mother warned him, “If you’re not good today, the loup-garou will eat you tonight!”

(pictured, Watchdog, 1984, the first Blue Dog painting)

The artist invented a red-eyed, frightening image loosely based on photographs of his deceased studio dog, Tiffany. He painted the loup-garou at night under a blue-moon sky, casting a blue-grey shade on the dog’s fur.

Over the following ten years, the loup-garou developed into the iconic Blue Dog, an image that catapulted Rodrigue’s fame worldwide. In 1992 the Wall Street Journal featured Rodrigue and his Blue Dog with an article on its front page, and in 1993 he joined artists such as Andy Warhol and Keith Haring in creating art for the international Absolut Art campaign.

(pictured, Absolut Rodrigue, 1993; related post "Blue Dog: Out of Control, 1993-1995")

In addition to numerous group shows, Rodrigue’s museum presence includes solo exhibitions in New Orleans, Atlanta, Chicago, Memphis, and Pensacola. In 2012 the Amarillo Museum of Art hosts a blockbuster Rodrigue exhibition, followed by Pennsylvania’s Susquehanna Art Museum and the National Steinbeck Center (Salinas, California) in 2013.

Following more than $3 million raised for humanitarian and arts organizations in the wake of September 11^th, 2001 and Hurricane Katrina in 2005, Rodrigue established in 2009 the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts, encouraging the use of art within all school curriculums and funding scholarships, classroom art supplies, and a variety of art educational programs.

In 2006 Rodrigue received the Lifetime Achievement Arts Award from the State of Louisiana Governor’s Office, soon after appointed the state’s official Artist Laureate; and in 2009 the University of Louisiana at Lafayette presented him with an Honorary Doctorate of Fine Arts. In 2011 the Center for Louisiana Studies awarded him with the James William Rivers Prize, established “to honor persons who have contributed or rendered, recently or over the course of their careers, outstanding scholarly study, work, or teaching about the culture, history, ….and art of Louisiana or about its people.” Also in 2011 the National Boy Scouts of America presented the artist with their highest honor, the Distinguished Eagle Award.

Today Rodrigue divides his time between New Orleans and Carmel, California. For more by George Rodrigue, visit his website: www.georgerodrigue.com

Wendy

-Also this week, I hope you enjoy Judy Cooper, New Orleans Photographer, a new story for Gambit

*This essay also appears on the website KnowLA: the Digital Encyclopedia of Louisiana History and Culture and within the upcoming book The Bicentennial History of Art in Louisiana, a project edited by Michael Sartisky, Ph.D., President/Executive Director of the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities and J. Richard Gruber, Ph.D., Founding Director of the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, scheduled for publication in April 2012 in celebration of the 200th anniversary of Louisiana’s statehood

The Working Artist

2011-12-02T08:44:00.014-06:00

Note: Throughout this post I sprinkled images by Louisiana artists. Some I interviewed and some not, but all are included in the book The Bicentennial History of Art in Louisiana.* As I wrote, I thought of the text and images as two separate statements, not necessarily related. In other words, unless specifically noted, all artist statements, whether quoted or in general, are anonymous.

Recently I interviewed artists and photographers for essays within an upcoming book* featuring two hundred years of art in Louisiana. Although my participation is minor within this ambitious project published by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities, I take this assignment seriously, and I feel responsible for small slices of each legacy.

(pictured, Velma and the Diamond Ring, Francis X. Pavy, 2008; be sure and click photos throughout to enlarge-)

If you ask most non-artists, the artist’s life is an envied one, provided there's food on the table. People often equate the creation of art with leisure, as though meeting a deadline and pleasing a boss (or agent) doesn’t count if one uses talent and personal expression to get there.

What’s more, people often judge artists based on their ability to hold out in the name of art, to resist commercialization, mass production and, in this contemporary world of video and conceptual art, traditional mediums such as modeled clay and paint on canvas.

“My agent is pushing me towards video,” explained one artist. “But it takes so much time, and I don’t know if I have it in me.”

In between his words, I heard his fear as well. I paint a picture over a few days and sell it for $5,000, half of which goes to my agent. After months of work, I’ll have a video that no one will buy.

(pictured, Popular Ladies Social Aid and Pleasure Club, Judy Cooper, 2007)

Artists have bills to pay like everybody else. They also have egos and families and goals. They walk a line between pleasing themselves (the popular mantra) and pleasing the public (the unpopular one). They enjoy public recognition and making money, but they aren’t supposed to admit it.

(“I don’t go after that sort of thing,” replied one artist when I asked her about awards, honors and museum exhibitions).

I heard artists explain away commissioned portraits, wedding photography, and product design, all with carefully worded and practiced lingo in an effort to dissolve my tiresome (and tacky – after all, I should know better) question, along with the age-old stereotypes.

(pictured, A Faster Breed, a painting for the Xerox Collection, George Rodrigue, 2000)

Consistently I heard overlapping stories – the same frustrations regarding exhibition deadlines, out-of-date websites, and limited studio and/or gallery space. Nearly everyone mentioned the problems of offering something affordable to the public without compromising their artistic integrity.

(pictured, Louisiana: The Pelican State, Miranda Lake, 2011)

I was surprised and somewhat relieved to learn of other similarities as well, namely the widespread and accepted computer use, along with a steady interest in printmaking as an art form. A few artists mentioned the convenience of the computer and the affordability of the prints, but nearly everyone talked of the computer as a tool, as a way to improve and edit their photographs, design compositions for their paintings or prints, and experiment with end-results before picking up their paintbrush.

(George Rodrigue designed his painting Victory on Bayou St. John, 2009, above, using the computer, detailed here)

In addition, nearly everyone within the arts overlaps in their interests, creating a strange inability to define work versus hobby. Painters take photographs; photographers play music; sculptors make movies; and so forth.

I noted also the solitude of these telephone interviews. In each case, the artist sat within their studio, putting down the brush or camera to answer my questions. I knew as we spoke that I interrupted their work, their creative train of thought, and I wondered if, in doing so, I inadvertently altered their next stroke.

(pictured, Pink Bunny, Hunt Slonem, 2011)

But then I thought of George at his easel, whether quiet and in the middle of the night (as he prefers), or chaotic with interruptions in the afternoon (as he expects). Either way, he moves in his own purposeful direction, influenced by life and people, but not by trends or the ideas of others. Is it work? I guess that depends on how one defines work.

If you’re one of the lucky few, you make money by doing that thing you enjoy the most, whether tending bar, running a computer company, or creating art. This isn’t the sort of thing one eyes with retirement* in mind. George would say that it’s not working; rather, it’s living.

(pictured, Eudora Welty, Philip Gould, 1992)

In the end, whether the rest of us call it work or not, no one’s going to do it for them. The artist lives a lonely, or at least an alone, if not solitary, life. Every artist talks about new ideas and avoids complacency, all personal versions of George’s mantra, “I have to keep the work exciting for me.”

Wendy

*George’s mother died at age 103 still waiting for him to get a real job…. “with the telephone company,” she used to say. Read the story here-

--Over the next several months, I’ll publish versions of these essays on-line with Gambit. This week, for example, I posted a story, linked here, about Lafayette photographer Philip Gould, coinciding with his exhibition, “Louisiana Landscape and Grass Roots” (LeMieux Galleries through 12/30/11) and his recent collaboration with historian Carl Brasseaux, Acadiana: Louisiana’s Historic Cajun Country, a book published by LSU Press, 2011

--The Bicentennial History of Art in Louisiana is a project edited by Michael Sartisky, Ph.D., President/Executive Director of the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities and J. Richard Gruber, Ph.D., Founding Director of the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, scheduled for publication in April 2012 in celebration of the 200^th anniversary of Louisiana’s statehood. In addition, all essays appear on the website KnowLA: the Digital Encyclopedia of Louisiana History and Culture

The Family Table

2011-11-24T07:41:00.001-06:00

In 1950 George Rodrigue drew and colored a turkey for his parents. On the back he wrote in a surprisingly elegant child’s script:

For Mother and Dad on Thanksgiving:

1. Visits to chapel. 9

2. Prayers in school. 40

3. Decades of rosary. 27

George Rodrigue

2^nd Grade

To fit the tiny picture in a frame (or possibly for some other reason), George’s mother folded back the question mark so that it could not be seen, leaving only a turkey staring at a partially hidden and therefore barely discernible ax.

I asked George about the picture. His Isn’t it obvious? expression amused me, as I thought about a six year old boy relating to a doomed and confused turkey, while already questioning the Catholic rote.

“I remember sitting on the porch in my grandmother’s cane chair, rocking in a trance, clicking the rosary beads and mumbling incoherently, as I mimicked Tante ‘Git. If she, the oldest of eleven children, felt this process important, then it must be.”

(pictured, Marie Courrege Rodrigue, seated left, with her brothers and sisters, New Iberia, 1955)

Years later, George Rodrigue remains respectful of both the religion and the tradition. This past weekend at the Catholic funeral of his cousin Donald LaBauve in New Iberia, Louisiana, I whispered during the sermon,

“What do you think of this? The words! The meanings! What does this have to do with Donald?”

George shook his head, his eyes watering.

“Nothing. He’s on a tangent.”

...as the priest explained God’s power to heal the sick and raise the dead.

Donald LaBauve, pictured above, lived to be ninety years old. As George’s Boy Scout troop leader, he was a father figure to the young artist. George Rodrigue, Sr. became ill in 1958 and, according to George, “was never the same.” One of fourteen children, George's father died in 1967, just months following the Thanksgiving photograph below.

As George and I sit down to dinner today with his boys Andre and Jacques, my sister Heather and her family, our dad, and several dear friends, I view this 1960s family scene as an enormous and poignant irony. George views it with a nostalgic melancholy, of days gone by but not necessarily missed.

-click photo to enlarge-

An only child, a young man in his early twenties, recently returned from Los Angeles and art school, sits at a table with his aging parents, a father ill and drifting away, and a mother consumed with her husband's care.

Somewhere in New Iberia, at the time of this photograph, are hundreds of relatives, twenty-three aunts and uncles, plus their spouses, children and grandchildren, none of which George recalls ever sharing a meal, at their table or at his parents’.

“It was a different time,” he explained. “And there were just too many of them.”

So today, on this celebration of Thanksgiving, we are thankful for family, for being together for not only the turkey, rice dressing and pecan pie, but more so the laughter, conversation and love that come with it. George and I wish you the same, raising our glasses to you and yours with “A Toast to Cajun Food.”

Wendy

-For more on George Rodrigue, Sr. and Marie Courrege Rodrigue, see the posts “The Artist’s Father” and “The Artist’s Mother”

-I hope you also enjoy “Dancing the Shrimp,” a story of family, seafood, and Louisiana history in this week’s Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans-

Blue Wendy

2011-11-14T15:54:00.005-06:00

This weekend George Rodrigue and I attended an event where the religious leader prayed for and encouraged our suffering. We left watching carefully, unprepared at a gala for this powerful lesson, for the bus that might run us down in the street, safeguarding our empathy with broken bones or worse.

“Suffering and diminishment are not the greatest of evils but are normal ingredients of life,” wrote Cardinal Avery Dulles, just prior to his death in 2008. “As I become increasingly paralyzed and unable to speak, I can identify with the many paralytics and mute persons in the Gospels…”

(Pictured, Rodrigue painted Father Dulles in 1990, one of ten portraits for the University of Louisiana at Lafayette’s Flora Levy Lecture Series)

Many doctrines welcome life’s hardships, because they tune us in to the suffering of others, and they make us better people.

“Only the healer, not the healer’s subject, must believe,” explains George Rodrigue, as he describes his aunt, a traiteur, as in the 1974 painting of Doc Moses above. “It’s the same for everyone,” he continues. “We each have the ability to make a difference, but it’s our belief and compassion that make it so.”

To be clear, as a rule George admires doctors and dismisses faith healers; however, he holds a life-long fascination with the power of the mind and the mystery of the universe. Years ago while dating, we split for several months. Upon reconciling, our first conversation involved hours on black holes, The Big Bang Theory, and déjà vu, as though his cosmic thoughts swirled for months and somehow reunited us.

“Give me a few hours to get into the zone, to really believe,” explained George recently, “and I could be someone else. I could be so funny that no one would recognize me. I could be Lewis Grizzard.”

“I don’t have any out-of-body experiences,” wrote Grizzard. “I had indeed seen a bright, beautiful light and had followed it, but it turned out to be a Kmart tire sale.”

Give me a few hours, I thought, and I could slip into insanity. It seems easy, almost like stepping off a mountain or, lest my sister worry, from a sidewalk into the grass, into freedom --- from cynicism, from suffering, from responsibilities, from guilt (both mine and others in all cases).

“Nothing in life is fair,” our mom used to say, followed closely by “I’m sorry girls, but Christmas will be grim this year.”

Heather and I, however, rolled our eyes, because Christmas was never grim. Whether new or used rollerskates, the pompoms (for the skate-toes) were handmade and hot pink (in my case), and the latest or last year’s Kermit or Miss Piggy, the perfect stuffed companion (in my sister’s).

I think often on scenes from my childhood. I recall once sharing a joke from school with my mother and baby sister at the dinner table. Ethiopian jokes were popular at Longwood Elementary School in Shalimar, Florida in the mid-1970s, and I laughed with a mouthful of pot roast, repeating the latest trendy mockery of a starving people.

My mother, who laughs with joy in my memories, wasn’t smiling that day.

“There is nothing funny about another person’s pain,” she said.

But they can’t hear me, Mama; they’re in Africa!

“It doesn’t matter whether they hear you or not, Wendy Anne.”

....and I knew, by the sound of my middle name, that this lesson was very important.

I recall too, as the holidays approach, one Christmas with relatives in New Orleans. I was ten or so and opened my new skates as though surprised, only to hear my cousin’s shriek, as she discovered her new stereo, records, an arcade-size Pac Man video game and more.

“Come see, Wendy,” she shouted, full of love. “I’ll share it all!”

But I ran upstairs and buried my face in the guestroom pillow, ashamed of my jealousy and yet helpless to stop it. I remember the feelings like they were yesterday, not wanting to hurt my mother, who gave us the world. I explained through my tears, as she apologized and stroked my hair, how much I loved my skates and how I never liked Pac Man anyway.

I thought of this, for some reason, last Saturday night when George woke me at 3:00 a.m., pleading that I rub his legs and shoulders --- “full of tension,” he explained, following the LSU vs. Alabama game. Annoyed and half-asleep, I scratched his back for maybe two minutes before dozing off, all the while dumbfounded over the physical and mental trauma following a winning football game watched from a sofa.

Within an hour, I awoke again, this time to the sound of a 2009 season Saints play-off game, “the perfect thing,” he explained, “to calm my nerves.”

I almost insisted that he turn off the television, explained how ridiculous this is in the middle of the night, and reminded him that we faced a full day and had to be up in two hours. Instead, however, I marveled quietly at this man and my life.

Oddly enough and unknown to me, he pondered along the same lines, yet in his unpredictable, unique way. Realizing I watched him, he noted out of the blue, as the Saints kicked the winning field goal against the Minnesota Vikings,

“What people don’t realize is that all of that funny stuff you write is really me!”

Well, now you know-

Wendy

-This self-indulgent dribble is for Jack, who encourages me-

-Also this week, Marie Laveau, Storyville and more in "Reading New Orleans," a new post for Gambit-

-Please join me on facebook for more paintings, photographs and discussion-

Victory on Bayou St. John

2011-11-11T06:03:00.000-06:00

“The brave young men rode onto the beaches and into battle on Higgins Boats, built in New Orleans by Andrew Higgins, the man Eisenhower said, ‘won the war for us.'” —Stephen Ambrose

Yet these two American giants of World War II never met. Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890-1969) eventually became President of the United States (1953-1961); however, it was a decade before, in his role as a 5-star general in the United States Army and finally Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe, that solidified his status as a hero, leading the United States and its allies to victory in Europe during World War II.

Meanwhile, Andrew Higgins (1886-1952) lived and worked in New Orleans, where he built many types of boats and barges but, most famously, designed the Landing Craft Personnel, Large (LCPL), the boats that transported allied troops to the Normandy beaches on D-Day.

(-Be sure and click the photos to enlarge-)

When the National World War II Museum approached George Rodrigue in 2008 about a Blue Dog painting for their new wing, he winced.

“The Blue Dog,” he noted, “has no connection to World War II.”

Instead, Rodrigue designed a painting unlike any photograph, posing Eisenhower and Higgins together for the first and only time.

He worked on the design in his Carmel, California studio for two months before lifting his paintbrush, using the computer to arrange the elements. Even with this shortcut, he changed the painting by hand several times, whiting out days of work and large sections of paint, including the jeep and the oak tree, which he re-painted with adjustments, sometimes less than an inch, but nevertheless critical to his eye.

In the end, the painting took six months. Too large for Rodrigue’s easel, the canvas remained propped against a wall, where he painted standing, sitting, or lying down.

“This is the most important project of my life,” he told me many nights, as he painted until daylight, at times falling asleep on the studio’s floor.

Once completed and before shipping the large canvas to New Orleans, we invited area friends for an unveiling in our home. Among the guests was a man in his seventies, Didier, visiting with his wife from Lyon, France. With tears in his eyes, he shared his D-Day story.

“I would not be here today if it were not for the Americans,” he said.

He recalled his shock as a child at seeing not only the boats, but also his first jeep. He recalled the kindness of American soldiers and the sweet taste of their Juicy Fruit gum, always accessible from their pockets.

He reminded all of us of the importance of honoring our soldiers for the risks they take for not only our freedom, but also the freedom of others.

I thought of Didier just a few weeks later, in November of 2009, when the National World War II Museum opened its new wing, featuring not only Rodrigue's painting, but also the Solomon Victory Theater, the Stage Door Canteen and Chef John Besh's American Sector. With canes and in wheelchairs, the veterans paraded from the old building to the new, greeted by stars like Tom Hanks, Tom Brokaw and Mickey Rooney, but mostly by ordinary people inspired and awed by their service and patriotism.

I also thought of my father, a Vietnam Veteran, now retired from the United States Air Force. I thought of our National Guard and their welcome presence following Hurricane Katrina. I thought of my cousin just returned from Afghanistan, and of our soldiers now abroad, risking their lives and missing their families.

On Veterans Day, we honor you, the men and women who, throughout history, protect and serve. As Didier observed on that fairytale day in Carmel, California,

“God only knows where we would be without you.”

Wendy

Please join me on facebook for more paintings, photographs and discussion-

Hiding From the Blues

2011-11-07T17:13:00.001-06:00

Recently I challenged George Rodrigue: Pretend I’m a stranger and answer some questions.

“Do you ever get the Blues?”

“No, I really don’t, at least not on my own,” he said. “But I do catch the Blues from others.”

“Like your wife?” I asked. But I already knew the answer.

(pictured, The Red Cover-Up, 2010, acrylic on canvas)

The Blue Dog, ironically, is not about the Blues, at least not for George Rodrigue. Although it began as the frightening loup-garou, for many it’s a happy, positive image representing anything from their pet to New Orleans. Some see universal questions in the dog’s eyes; others see nothing deeper than a cool piece of art.

"Unlike a musician who might need the Blues to sing the Blues, I paint only when I'm happy. The Blues work against my creativity; they don't inspire me."

George Rodrigue sees shape, color and design, endless challenges using a strong form on a blank canvas. He also sees a vehicle to graphically comment on life today --- a refreshing change for an artist who spent years painting the Cajuns and illustrating the past.

(In My Security Blanket, 1996, original silkscreen, Rodrigue combines the iconic American flag with the iconic Blue Dog.)

Although no longer the case, for a few years in the early 1990s, George often related his Blue Dog paintings to his studio dog Tiffany.

“I threw a blanket over her,” I recall him saying, “and she just sat there, peeking out, watching me paint.”

(pictured, You Can Run, but You Can’t Hide From the Blues, 1991, oil on canvas)

The Tiffany-connection was short-lived, however, as George explored deeper meaning within this entity. He faced the fact that, as with the oak tree, he stopped seeing a dog almost from the beginning, focusing instead on composition and graphics, his on-going and principal interest since art school.

(pictured, Hiding from the Moon, 1995, original silkscreen)

This doesn’t mean, however, that he doesn’t play. In Hiding My Blues From You (below), for example, he floats a ghostly pattern of dark eyes behind the dog, highlighting the futility of cloaking one’s sadness. (1995, original silkscreen)

I pushed George again on the Blues, refusing to believe that he never experienced the drama first-hand:

“Okay,” he admitted, “I remember one time thirty-five years ago when I raised my house in Lafayette. I went through so much to pay for it that I had little time to paint. I renovated my house, but I was broke. I only had a few paintings left for sale, and none, not even the Aioli Dinner, were selling.

“I was overwhelmed, and I guess I had the Blues. I remember sitting in my studio in the middle of the night and thinking that all I wanted in life was to make enough money so I could just paint.”

(pictured, George’s raised house on Jefferson Street in Lafayette, Louisiana; notice Tiffany running across the road. For more photos and a related post see “A Gallery of His Own”)

As he spoke, I thought about George’s new French Quarter gallery and the years it took him to reach this point. After twenty years in a small rented space, he opened in both New Orleans and Carmel, California the galleries he always wanted.

(pictured, Rodrigue Gallery Unveiling, 2010, original silkscreen)

“And what about Katrina?” I asked, recalling his mood and his dark series of paintings.

“I knew it was going to take us (the Gulf Coast region) at least five years to even start to come back,” he said, forgetting to pretend that I’m a stranger. “Katrina wasn’t so much the Blues; it was more like someone took a bat and hit me in the head*.”

Wendy

-For more on George’s mood and my Blues following Hurricane Katrina, see the post “For New Orleans” from Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans.

-*This reminds me of George's comment during our artsy visit to Marfa, Texas last year: "This is like I'm gonna get a stick stuck in my eye, and I can't wait to get it, because it's good for me!"

-Also this month: “The Artist’s Mother,” a story about Marie Rodrigue, a woman who affected her son with praise and criticism, featured in November’s Country Roads Magazine, and linked here-

LSU Football: A Personal History

2011-11-03T22:52:00.009-05:00

I attended a small college, Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas. In the mid-1980s we had maybe two thousand students. Although we had a football team, I don’t recall any games. We had a Greek system, but I evaded that as well, opting instead for extra classes and the AIDS suicide hotline.

In short, I received an excellent education in both books and sensitivity but, arguably, missed the college experience.

(New Orleans photographer Dennis Couvillion took this incredible picture during the 2011 football season; be sure and click the photo to enlarge)

In my family, I was the exception. My parents graduated in ’61 and ‘62 from Louisiana State University, and my sister attended Ol’ Miss, followed by graduate school at Florida State. Without question, they were the cool kids, fans of football games, dating and parties, while I brown-nosed my professors and stood waiting early-morning at the locked library door. In the end, we all graduated, meaning, I suppose, that I missed out…needlessly.

For sometime now, George Rodrigue seeks to repair this lapse. It began when he insisted that I attend the 2004 Sugar Bowl in the New Orleans Superdome despite my guilt-motivated speech that my ticket belongs instead with a real fan.

To my surprise, I cheered and cried, losing my voice, but not my enthusiasm, for hours after LSU’s win. If I close my eyes as I write this, I picture the energy of the strangers’ shoulders on either side of me as we walked the length of Poydras Street to the Mississippi River. I knew for the first time this sort of exhilaration and, after losing my mother later that same year, cheered for her going forward, for the Homecoming floats and decorated fraternity houses, for poodle skirts and jukeboxes, for young love and life-long friends and, more than anything, for tradition.

(pictured, photos from my mother's album, 1958; click to enlarge-)

It was the 1957, ’58 and ’59 seasons, the years my parents attended LSU, that changed Louisiana football forever.

In the late 1950s, Billy Cannon (above, photographed by LSU Sports) won the Heisman Trophy, the Tigers won the National Championship, and LSU stadium filled to capacity. About this same time, national television broadcasted NFL games, watched for the first time by large audiences. People saw the Baltimore Colts with Johnny Unitas play the Green Bay Packers, coached by Vince Lombardi.

“When I went to art school in L.A.,” explains George Rodrigue, “the first thing I wanted to see was a national football game live. I saw Johnny Unitas and the Baltimore Colts play the Los Angeles Rams at the L.A. Coliseum. I was shocked to see only 30,000 people in an 110,000-seat stadium. Pro-football still struggled for attendance.”

(pictured, George Rodrigue last week at Tiger Stadium with Bunnie Cannon, Executive Director of Institutional Advancement at LSU, and daughter of famous LSU running back, Billy Cannon)

“Years later,” George continues, “I’m standing in line at Ray Hay’s Cajun Po-Boys in Houston, Texas, and Billy Cannon taps me on the shoulder. Turns out that he’s a fan of my Cajun paintings. I could barely speak. It’s probably the only time in my life that I ever felt star struck.”

Before heading to art school in Los Angeles, George Rodrigue attended USL (now the University of Louisiana at Lafayette). Considering his football fever today, it’s ironic that he remembers little of USL football from school, focusing on his drawing exercises more than the Bulldogs (now the Ragin’ Cajuns), a team he follows with enthusiasm today.

Rodrigue sought a formal education in the arts, and before graduating at USL, he hopped on a train to California, where he watched Louisiana football from afar and painted full-time.

For George in those years, tradition was not football. Tradition was the Cajun culture, and, desperate to preserve it, he painted it.

(In Modern Medicine, 1985, above, Rodrigue compares the teamwork put forth by today's Louisiana health care workers to that of a kids' football team, including his sons, André and Jacques; for more paintings from Rodrigue's doctor/hospital series, visit here)

Gradually, George Rodrigue’s college football fever returned, an addiction (a wife’s word) consuming much of his life, even in the face of painting.

(Okay it’s not college football, but you get the idea…)

His son André attended UL (George’s alma mater), and his son Jacques attended LSU. As a result, George’s sense of tradition pulls him both directions, yet still firmly rooted in Louisiana football.

(photographs above from the LSU vs Auburn game, October 2011; be sure and click the crowd shot to enlarge)

In the 1980s he spent ten years supporting UL with paintings of award-winning authors and scholars for the Flora Levy Lecture Series (pictured here), and in 2003 he painted LSU’s mascot, Mike the Tiger.

The more than $1 million in proceeds from Mike’s print helped to replace the tiger’s cage with a habitat, Mike’s home on the LSU grounds today.

-click photos to enlarge-

This year, the LSU Museum of Art held a major Rodrigue exhibition based on paintings from the collection of the New Orleans Museum of Art. Rodrigue took advantage of this situation to once again paint in support of LSU. This time, however, proceeds benefit not only LSU’s programs, but also arts-infused education throughout the state of Louisiana (details here), all coordinated by the Tiger Athletic Foundation and the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts.

For me, I attend games when summoned or stay home when permitted, serving gumbo or red beans, not only because it pleases my husband, but also because it honors my parents.

(pictured, John Wolfe and Mignon McClanahan at LSU, 1958)

My mother was the first person in her family to attend college. A tradition was born, assumed my grandparents, and as an 18-year old know-it-all, I disappointed them out of the gate, choosing a small south Texas school (that I loved) over the Baton Rouge campus.

Yet this weekend, as LSU takes on Alabama, I’m thinking about tradition as though I high-fived Billy Cannon himself. I’ll cheer at the top of my lungs for players I’ve never met, from a school I never attended, against a team no doubt full of nice people (although, honestly, I’m partial to Auburn over Alabama, thanks to my sister’s in-laws and a wonderful experience at the Jule Collins Smith Museum of Fine Art earlier this year) – all for a game I hardly understand and for a collection of photographs (some sprinkled throughout this post) that provide a glimpse of my young parents.

Whatever your reason, I urge you:

Cheer loudly – for YOUR team – this weekend.

And hey, Good Luck-

Wendy

-for more photos, history and discussion, please join me on facebook

The Secret of Pirate Lafitte’s Gold

2011-10-27T13:52:00.003-05:00

“O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can hear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire and behold our home!"

–Lord Byron, 1814, The Corsair

By 1974 George Rodrigue pursued a unique, self-invented style of American genre painting, typified by hard edges and strong designs. He interpreted the landscapes and legends of the Cajun culture with expressive symbolism. His oak trees are abstract shapes forming the uppermost border of a bright sky, reinforcing positive shapes and patterns in his stylized canvas world.

The mysterious woman in The Secret of Pirate Lafitte’s Gold (1974, 30x36) guards a treasure hidden within the hollow of the tree. Conflicting tales of Jean Lafitte and his gold abound, and for years treasure hunters dug up islands and, at one point, drained a lake, in search of the booty.

Far from the terrifying reputation of today’s pirates, Jean Lafitte resembles in legend (forgive me) Jack Sparrow, in his relentless pursuit of treasure, freedom, and the ‘winning side.’ He gained a reputation beyond thief and smuggler, known for sparing the lives of his captives and, most famously, ensuring Andrew Jackson’s victory at the Battle of New Orleans.

(pictured, In Search of the Gold of Jean Lafitte, circa 1983; notice Chef John Folse's famous restaurant, now burned, in the background; the painting currently hangs at Folse's Lafitte's Landing Restaurant at Bittersweet Plantation)

For their allegiance and assistance, Lafitte and his men received full pardons and generous payment, a treasure, according to a legend recounted by fishermen and trappers since the early 1900s, still buried within a large oak tree at the mouth of the Atchafalaya River.

Lafitte’s followers, however, protected the gold. As the pirates died, their ghosts remained. It was from this legend that Rodrigue fabricated his image, a female spirit formed from his imagination, still guarding the oak.

According to family legend, George Rodrigue’s Uncle Boutte, who married his mother’s sister, a Courrege, was a direct descendant of Pirate Lafitte. The family spoke of the treasure often when George was a child in New Iberia.

“Growing up I remember the Bouttes complaining that by the time they find Lafitte’s gold there will be so many heirs that nobody will get much of anything.” - G.R.

In 1984 George addressed the legend again with A Sea Chest of Secrets (40x30), painted for the book Bayou, a collection of ghost stories that also includes the loup-garou, the first Blue Dog.

The painting illustrates three periods in time. Lafitte, still living, sits upon his gold at the edge of the river. Mid-canvas, his grave, an above ground tomb, hides the gold beneath the same tree (although, according to popular accounts, he was wounded during a battle and buried at sea). The top of the painting reveals no sign of Lafitte, his tomb, or the gold, reinforcing the mystery of both the pirate’s fate and that of his treasure.

Throughout the painting, the river and sky blend as one, a typical Rodrigue artifice that further blurs both the passage of time and the ambiguity of a legend.

Wendy

-please join me on facebook for more paintings, photographs and stories

-also this week, a tribute to Pablo Picasso, featuring Rodrigue’s guitar-collage inspired by the Modern master, linked here for Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans

A Cajun in California

2011-10-18T22:19:00.002-05:00

It was ten years ago that George Rodrigue built his studio in the hills of Carmel Valley, California. Since that time, although we live most of the year in New Orleans, ninety percent of his work comes from this peaceful home on the West Coast, an escape from everything but nature and painting.

-click photos to enlarge-

It was in this studio that he painted God Bless America on the night of September 11^th, 2001. He conceived of and painted both the Hurricanes and Bodies Series on this hill. And it was here that he spent most of 2009 painting an historical tribute to the ‘men who won the war,’ Eisenhower and Higgins, a large-scale commission for the National World War II Museum. (pictured below unfinished, and detailed in a Veterans Day post next month)

Why California?, people ask.

(Pictured, George Rodrigue on Highway 1 near Malibu while attending the Art Center College of Design, 1966)

“I first fell in love with California when I went to art school in Los Angeles. It was exciting because of the new art coming out of that area. I discovered the Monterey Peninsula early on. The little town of Carmel-by-the-Sea was full of artists and had a large concentration of studios and galleries.

“I loved the idea from the beginning of one day painting in Carmel and showing my art. Thanks to the success of the gallery in New Orleans, I fulfilled that dream twenty-five years later.”

(pictured, last week on Highway 1 near Big Sur)

This year the Rodrigue Gallery in Carmel, California celebrates its twentieth year. We moved recently to a larger location two blocks from our old one, described as the West side of Dolores between Ocean and 7^th, in a town without addresses.

I worked at the Carmel gallery, then known as Galerie Blue Dog, for six years in the early 1990s, returning to Louisiana when George and I married. Along with my co-workers, Sandra Crake (now in New Orleans) and Mary Threadgill (still in Carmel), we enjoyed the exciting early Blue Dog years, including lines at the door following our grand opening, thanks to George’s long-time friend Chef Paul Prudhomme, who cooked Cajun food in the gallery for the town.

We celebrated together when the Blue Dog landed on the front page of the Wall Street Journal. We appeared out of business for months (and we raised prices) as George painted inventory following the buying frenzy accompanying his Absolut art ads. We introduced the seaside community not only to a Cajun artist and Cajun food, but also to Mardi Gras, the Saints, and LSU, with related paintings, parties, and decorated windows.

(pictured, outside Rodrigue’s Carmel studio, 2008)

This year we hired a California native who worked for many years at a nearby gallery. Jenny Johnson made her first trip ever to Louisiana this summer, where she visited not only George’s gallery, but also “Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River” at the LSU Museum of Art, the Blue Dog Café, and our new GRFA Education Center.

“After twenty years,” writes Jenny, “I see a new generation of children who know the story and love the Blue Dog. They bring their parents in the gallery and share the art and history, because they’re learning it in school. With his love of painting, George has inspired countless young artists to follow their hearts and dream big.”

(pictured, last month at Edwins Elementary School, Fort Walton Beach, FL; for more photos from our Florida education week visit here; for Louisiana, see the post “Go North and Learn”)

Last week we secured a major George Rodrigue exhibition (Fall 2013) at the National Steinbeck Center. John Steinbeck was born and raised in Salinas, a city where he remains controversial, even fifty years after his death, especially among the established agricultural families.

"We’re defined by the 'lettuce curtain'," more than one person explained, a term that jolted me with its divisiveness, historical significance, and possible political incorrectness - and yet the perfect way, maybe the only way, to describe the mere 17 miles (ironically) between the field workers of Salinas, California and the golf-playing elite of Pebble Beach (or similarly, our fairytale world in downtown Carmel).

(On our first date, George, photographed last week at the Steinbeck Center, shared his fascination with Marilyn Monroe, then Norma Jean, as the first Artichoke Festival Queen in nearby Castroville in 1948; on the date, we sat in a biker bar three miles away in the tiny town of Moss Landing)

For George Rodrigue and our Foundation, this is the perfect opportunity for a major exhibition in central California, as well as education outreach with the Arts Council for Monterey County. George is already working on concepts for large-scale new paintings, which may be his first works ever truly inspired by California.

The state is second in George’s heart only to Louisiana, and we look forward to exploring connections between Steinbeck and Rodrigue ---- one having preserved his culture in words and the other in paint. Like Steinbeck’s stories, George’s Cajun paintings were controversial from the start.

That said, I recall a reporter who interviewed George not long after we moved to Carmel.

“Now that you’re painting in California, are you inspired by the lone cypress, by the hills, or by the beach?”

George looked at him and laughed.

“Why would I paint those? My landscape is in here,” he explained, with his hand on his chest, “and that’s always Louisiana.”

Wendy

--please join me on facebook for more photos and discussion

--above, shooting bottles last week in Carmel Valley

--also, Rodrigue’s soulful painting of Cajun accordion player Iry LeJeune in this week’s Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans

I Ain’t No Cartoon Dog

2011-10-11T13:21:00.001-05:00

The Blue Dog is not a cartoon. It is a shape that interacts with other shapes, not characters, all according to George Rodrigue’s artistic eye. There are no speech bubbles coming from its mouth. Although it delivers a message, its exchange is a silent and mysterious communication between its golden saucers and our eyes.

(pictured, I Ain’t No Cartoon Dog, 1994, acrylic on canvas, 24x20, click photo to enlarge)

Furthermore, the Blue Dog is not a dog. It has no backside (making sculpture challenging). It doesn’t run or bark or chase its tail. It doesn’t sit at our feet and look up; rather, it stands human-size, staring straight-on.

(pictured, Flower Ann, 2011, acrylic on canvas, 24x20)

From the beginning, I watched George struggle, almost without care, to define his creation.

“What does it mean?” asks the public.

Yet his answers are as varied as his paintings, shifting from the loup-garou in early years, to memories of his studio dog Tiffany, to a symbolic leap from his painted Cajun past, to pure, undefined abstract form. (See the links above, and more under ‘Blue Dog’ to the right of this post)

Ironically, Rodrigue embraces the cartoon-in-art, especially Pop Art designs such as Andy Warhol’s Superman or Roy Lichtenstein’s Comic Strips. As an art student in Los Angeles, young George painted Pop Goes the Ads (1966, below), a 4x6 foot mixed media on plywood that hangs in his studio today.

-click this photo and others to enlarge-

The Blue Dog, however, is not Snoopy; nor is it a Pop Art reference to the comics, as in the examples above.

A cartoon-Blue Dog analogy is no more relevant, nor appropriate, than associating Rodrigue’s Cajuns (excepting the Portraits and Saga) with specific people and events, or his oaks with actual trees. Yet these misinterpretations have haunted George since his earliest landscapes, when local critics, blind to his strong shapes and symbolism, described his work as “dreary and monotonous.”

(pictured, 1970; read more about George's critics here)

Even the New York advertising agency Young and Rubicam first approached Rodrigue for their client Xerox with designs that included speech bubbles at the Blue Dog’s mouth. As a result, George nearly missed this opportunity, rejecting their offer until they convinced him that they understood his art. (See the Xerox Blue Dog paintings and read the story here).

(pictured, Consequences, 2002, 48 inch diameter)

From the beginning, whether Oak Trees, Cajuns, Hurricanes, Blue Dogs or Bodies, George Rodrigue’s art remains powerful and distinctive because he has unique ideas and approaches them abstractly. It’s the secret to his paintings. He doesn’t see a tree, a person, or a dog. Rather, he sees shape, design and color as he tackles each canvas world.

The entire painting becomes the subject, without negative space, as in this 1992 painting from the Evangeline Series.

It’s not what he paints, but rather how he paints that explains why Rodrigue’s Cajun paintings appealed from the beginning to collectors outside of Louisiana. (See the essays under ‘Cajuns’ to the right of this post.)

This same idea also explains why a simple Blue Dog exists as not a cartoon, but rather an artistic phenomenon.

Wendy

*please join me on facebook for Rodrigue photos, paintings and nostalgia, linked here

*pictured above, At the Head of the Red River, 2011, 48x72

Popular Art: Famous Paintings by George Rodrigue

2011-10-06T15:56:00.002-05:00

During our recent tours in north Louisiana and the Florida Panhandle, the question arose several times regarding George Rodrigue’s most popular paintings.

“My favorite painting,” he’s quick to reply, “is always the one I’m working on now.”

(pictured, George Rodrigue at his easel in Carmel Valley, California, 10/6/11)

But for the rest of us, human nature and personal taste draws us towards certain works. Like everything in life, this changes over time. Remarkably, George Rodrigue’s public changes right along with him --- although usually, but not always, running a few years behind.

George is the first to admit (and argue) that he has never painted to please an audience. In the early 1990s, both friends and strangers thought he was crazy:

“Who wants a Blue Dog?” they asked him.

But George remained unfazed. Much of Louisiana rejected his Cajun paintings for years. This was especially true of the Lafayette and New Iberia Cajun communities, where the people oftentimes found his interpretations primitive and insulting.

Rodrigue’s own mother, who was proud that her father, a Courrege, came to America directly from France, declared in the early 1970s:

“Why would you paint the Cajuns? You’re not like them; you’re French!”

This, despite the fact that George and, as first cousins, both his parents, are the definition of Cajun --- descended from four Rodrigue brothers expelled from Nova Scotia during the Grand Dérangement of 1755.

The Aioli Dinner (1971, 32x46 inches) is George Rodrigue’s most famous Cajun painting. It is also his first painting with people, a gourmet dinner club that met every month from 1890 to 1920 on the lawns of plantation homes in and around New Iberia, Louisiana. (click this photo and others to enlarge)

Forty years after it was painted, dozens of people inquire daily within our galleries and on-line about this important and priceless painting. Yet it hung on the wall of George’s Lafayette gallery for fifteen years, much of that time for $5,000, without a buyer’s interest.

Eventually George loaned the painting to the Zigler Museum in Jennings, Louisiana where it hung for many years before making its way permanently to the New Orleans Museum of Art. There it hangs today on public view, beloved and admired by thousands.

(Read a detailed history of Rodrigue’s Aioli Dinner here)

Jolie Blonde (1974, 24x18 inches) is a close second in fame to the Aioli Dinner. Rodrigue painted her hundreds of times using dozens of models, and he continues painting her today. Yet it is this first painting, an image without a model, created in one hour in the middle of the night and from his imagination, that remains his most famous.

(Read a detailed history and view other versions of Rodrigue’s Jolie Blonde here)

Like the Aioli Dinner, people inquire daily about Jolie Blonde, even more so recently, since Rodrigue’s sons opened Jolie’s Louisiana Bistro in Lafayette.

If you ask George Rodrigue about popularity, he says that his Louisiana festival posters, particularly in the 1980s, made him popular throughout the state.

Yet it was a painting and advertising project for Absolut Vodka that catapulted his fame worldwide. The paintings Absolut Louisiana (above, 1992) and Absolut Rodrigue (below, 1993) appeared in hundreds of magazines during the 1990s, placing Rodrigue’s art in good company, with other Absolut artists such as Keith Haring, Andy Warhol, and Damien Hirst.

Overnight the public changed. One day they walked in and asked, confused,

“What’s with this Blue Dog?”

And the next day they asked, excited,

“I know this Blue Dog! Is this the real thing?!”

Hawaiian Blues (1999, 36x63 inches) may be the most famous Blue Dog painting. Painted for the cover of a Neiman Marcus catalogue, the image saw wide circulation in the late 1990s, appearing among other places in the windows of the department store’s Honolulu, Houston and Dallas locations.

The painting has a lengthy and fascinating history that lead to other related works for Neiman Marcus, all detailed in the post "Blue Dog Man, 1996-1999."

Rodrigue’s prints, too, are worth mentioning, including his highly successful Jazz Fest posters, God Bless America following 9/11, and his post-Katrina silkscreens. (Please follow the links for images and background).

Yet when asked directly,

“Which of your paintings are most popular?”

George replies, “The recent ones.” And he’s correct.

I’ve seen this phenomenon repeatedly during this year’s museum tour. With the Blue Dog on their minds as they enter, people stop and, to their surprise, usually pause with interest at the soulful, rich early landscapes and Cajuns (see links to the right of this post), but only when forced by determined docents.

Although waiting for the Blue Dog, they pass the early Blue Dog works with barely a glance, once again corralled by docents who catch people’s attention with phrases like ‘first Blue Dog painting’ and ‘notice the red eyes.’ Painted just prior to George’s switch from oil to acrylic paint, these images, so shocking when first painted, appear muted compared to later canvases.

Paintings from a decade ago, such as Hawaiian Blues mentioned above, draw more attention today than Blue Dogs from 1992. However, even Hawaiian Blues lacks the ‘Wow’ factor that stops people in their tracks at the New Orleans and Carmel gallery windows.

Approaching the end of the museum exhibitions, people gasp at the new works, giant canvases (such as What’s Coming Over the Hill?, 42x78 inches, pictured below) in near-electric primary flat colors, broken down into simple and strong shapes.

Somehow George’s audience has grown and changed along with him. It’s an enigma, really. George has never competed with other artists nor followed a trend. He has painted since childhood by himself, both literally and figuratively, creating in his own direction, so that he remains unpredictable.

Wendy

-for more discussion and photos, I hope you ‘like’ my new facebook page

-read about my favorite Rodrigue painting here

-“George Rodrigue vs. Georgia O’Keeffe: An Artistic Rivalry Lives Forever,” a look at the power of social media in my recent post for Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans

Go North (to Shreveport) and Learn

2011-09-27T00:44:00.013-05:00

Shreveport often gets a bum rap.

“It’s east Texas,” claim many, as though that’s a bad thing. This Red River city fights for not only Louisiana’s embrace, but also the South’s.

And yet Shreveport, along with nearby north Louisiana cities such as Natchitoches and Bossier City, cheers on the Saints and LSU. They talk about New Orleans like it’s an old friend, asking about Café du Monde, Chef Paul Prudhomme, and French Quarter Fest.

Most important, the area excels by example, particularly when it comes to education and the arts. The ArtBreak Festival in April is the ‘largest annual student arts festival in the South,’ and events such as the Red River Revel next month and the Louisiana State Fair help support these programs, as well as the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum.

The schools follow suit, responding to the community’s love of the arts with enthusiasm, as we saw during visits to area schools last week.

“I took what I learned from studying Michelangelo's figure drawing and turned it around, transforming it into a Cajun,” explains George Rodrigue to sixth graders at Natchitoches Primary Magnet School in Natchitoches, Louisiana.

The students study within a 1960s building. They seem oblivious to the exposed wires and pipes, happy instead to have an art room, a recently converted girls’ dressing room, complete with floor drains, sinks, and a new Smartboard, donated by a generous alum.

Before converting this room and securing donations, such as their recent allotment from George’s Art Closet, the school’s one art teacher pushed a cart from class to class, struggling to teach one thousand students with a mere $200 per year in supplies.

“What are you working on?” I ask some of the lucky 320 high school students at the Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts – a facility the opposite of the one we just left, only a few miles away.

They shared their drawings, headstone designs for Kurt Cobain and Steve Jobs, reminding me of George Rodrigue’s imaginary album covers from art school in the 1960s.

To my surprise, this boarding high school, also in Natchitoches, is state-funded. I struggled to steady my jaw as we toured the facility, where students recreate shoes on potter’s wheels, design programs on Apple computers, and study photography with large cameras on tripods.

According to Executive Director, Dr. Pat Widhalm, more than 400 students apply annually, with the school accepting 110, representing more than 70 parishes.

(pictured, LSMSA students with George Rodrigue, left, and Chris King, right)

Chris King, the tattoo-covered, long haired art teacher previously at Beverly Hills High School, designed the expansive art rooms. He inspires and enchants Louisiana’s students in this conservative north/central town.

“It’s been four years now, and we’re starting to feel adjusted,” says wife Erin King with a wink.

(pictured, George Rodrigue visits with students in LSMSA's museum; Chris King's paintings, created during a month-long sabbatical this summer in West Virginia, hang on the wall; click photo to enlarge)

At Youree Drive Middle School in Shreveport, we talk about the power of ideas and imagination, about painting for one’s self as opposed to others, about keeping one’s work exciting.

“What’s your favorite painting?” a student asks George Rodrigue.

“The one I’m working on now,” he replies.

At Parkway High School in Bossier City, the students, according to art teacher Mrs. Jacobe, forgot their Homecoming festivities that afternoon, buzzing instead with not only excitement for the Arts, but also excitement for their potential in whatever their passion.

“When you create up here,” explains George Rodrigue, pointing to an imaginary dot six inches above an imaginary yardstick of art (held horizontally from the Renaissance at zero inches to Contemporary Art at thirty-six), “you’re by yourself, and no one can touch you.”

-click photos to enlarge-

At our last stop, Claiborne Elementary Magnet School in Shreveport, the third graders taught us more than we taught them. They shout out the colors and question the designs. They use their imagination to paint their own world, without embarrassment or inhibition.

“It took me a whole lifetime to learn how to draw like a child again,” said Pablo Picasso, famously.

It was not Picasso, however, but the children in this north Louisiana city that reminded us of this valuable lesson.

Wendy

--On the way home, we made memories at Lea's Pies-

--George Rodrigue's Shreveport exhibition continues at the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum until December 30, 2011. Read more here-

--I hope you’ll join me for more adventures and discussion on my new facebook page-

--For information on the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts visit here-

An Artist’s Wife ( ... okay, now on facebook)

2011-09-19T11:55:00.002-05:00

“To be an enthusiast had become her social vocation and, sometimes even when she did not feel like it, she became enthusiastic in order not to disappoint the expectations of those who knew her.”*

(pictured above and below, sharing the art of George Rodrigue with Baton Rouge students during a drawing workshop last weekend at the LSU Museum of Art)

“What are your credentials?” asked a Louisiana artist recently, as I interviewed him for an essay for The Bicentennial History of Art in Louisiana.*

Ironically, the question offended George but merely distracted me, as I rattled off a few boring bits of bio, steering our exchange as quickly as possible back to my subject.

“I apologize,” I admitted at one point, “but I tend to relate all art to George Rodrigue and our discussions, because that’s my world.”

I took on these essays, only a small number of the hundreds within the book, not only out of genuine interest, but also in hopes of calming some local artistic and awkward karma. I’ve written before about jealousy in the art world, about the difficulty I have in seeing it and understanding it. In truth, I believe that any artist’s success is a success for all artists, and I’m as pleased to hear of a big sale on Julia Street, at Sotheby's, or on the fence at Jackson Square as I am with one at the Rodrigue Gallery.

That said, I can’t help but take criticism of George’s artwork to heart, despite his own indifference. It’s the reason I no longer work on the gallery floor. I strike at critics with defensive cat claws, regretting it later, and wishing I’d thought before speaking.

This month marks two years of "Musings of an Artist’s Wife," a place where we celebrate the art and life of George Rodrigue. In the same way people stopped asking George years ago, “Don’t you get tired of painting the same thing over and over?,” they stopped asking me months ago, “What happens when you run out of things to write?”

(pictured, On My Master's Grave, 1990)

If you follow George’s work, and certainly if you follow this blog, you know that his art is as interesting and varied as his life. The Blue Dog paintings today look different than five years ago or ten years ago or twenty, in the same way artists might develop their landscapes or portraits (ironically also true of George Rodrigue).

(pictured, A Basket of Joy, 2011, 24x20 inches, finished just this week-)

George the artist taught me about writing, a form of expression imbued with forethought.

“The key,” explains the Blue Dog Man, “is to please no one but yourself. If a few others like it, all the better. But if you paint or write their ideas (for you), as opposed to your own, you hold yourself back, and over time, people rarely remember the gesture anyway.”

I thought of this often over the past few months as University of Louisiana at Lafayette fans questioned George’s recent enthusiasm for LSU.

“Why don’t you support your home school, ULL?” they ask, as I remind them gently of his dedication to that university over the years.

“It’s impossible to please everyone,” George reassures me, as I answer with overzealousness an angry letter from a man wondering why we ignore north Louisiana, even as we head to Shreveport for an exhibition and series of events later this week.

Simultaneously, I watch George at his easel, breaking his own rule. Without question, he paints to please himself ninety percent of the time, such as Sunny James (36x36, below), finished last month.

Yet within that other ten percent lies, for example, a recent commission to paint a ULL administrator’s portrait, a project without an appealing artistic challenge, but an important challenge nonetheless, a shift in motivation, as the resulting money benefits GRFA’s programs, providing bigger scholarships and art supplies to Louisiana’s students and schools. In other words, occasionally it’s worth the compromise.

(pictured: a happy George Rodrigue paints and watches to please himself, last night in New Orleans)

As a model, as a muse, and as the author of self-indulgent dribble (who almost quit weeks in when a reader commented, “Get over yourself, Wendy”), I do believe we each have a duty --- to God, to fate, to karma, or perhaps most important, to ourselves --- to follow our passions.

With that in mind, I established this week a public Facebook page. I hope you’ll join me for not only updates from Musings and Gambit, but also assorted photographs, ideas, links to other artists, other writers, and … your feedback.

Wendy

*from Tolstoy's War and Peace, 1869

*The Bicentennial History of Louisiana is a 375-page, full color volume edited by Michael Sartisky of the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities and Rick Gruber, formerly of the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, printed in New Orleans by Garrity Press in 2012, as we celebrate Louisiana’s statehood bicentennial. I am honored to be a minor contributor within this ambitious and important project.

Talk About Good!

2011-09-15T09:31:00.001-05:00

In 1979 George Rodrigue loaned twenty of his Cajun paintings for use in Talk About Good II, a cookbook produced by the Junior League of Lafayette, Louisiana.

The paintings introduce the book’s chapters and include dinner scenes, seafood preparations and Cajun characters, each complemented by Rodrigue’s brief descriptions.

Rodrigue writes about the cover, Kiss Me I’m Cajun:

“This is a portrait of my son, André Rodrigue, after his first fishing trip. André in his t-shirt typifies the contemporary Cajun. But at four years of age, he does not yet know that the whole world does not have boudin, crawfish, gumbo, and Mardi Gras parades.”

(for more on Kiss Me I'm Cajun, see the post “The Rodrigue Brothers”)

Originally the painting A Toast to Cajun Food (from the collection of the University Art Museum in Lafayette) graced the cookbook’s cover; however the Junior League swapped the front and back covers for the newest edition.

“Cajun food reflects a way of life,” writes Rodrigue. “Shown here is a traditional all-day feast which reflects the ‘joie de vivre’ which the Cajuns have kept throughout their history. They toast a good life and good food and the land they have come to love in South Louisiana.”

(for more on Rodrigue’s paintings of Gourmet Dinner Clubs, see the post “Aioli Dinner.”)

Within the cookbook, paintings such as Ray Hay’s Cajun Po-Boys introduce the Meat Chapter, opposite a page dedicated to ‘refrigerator,’ ‘watermelon,’ and ‘mirliton’ pickles.

--click photos to enlarge--

“This painting portrays Ray Hay holding his Cajun Po-Boy sandwich, and beside him is Bud Petro of Lafayette, Louisiana. The two are discussing one of the new items on the menu, Petro’s juicy fried rabbit. The preparation of the rabbit is so secret, that Mr. Petro was flown in to Houston to teach the cooks how to prepare this Cajun delicacy.” – G.R.

Selling Crawfish at Butte La Rose introduces the Seafood Chapter and appears opposite recipes for “Baked Wild Turkey” and “Woodcock for Company.”

“This painting,” writes Rodrigue, “shows the early days when it was far easier to give the crawfish away than to try to sell them.”

My personal favorites within this book are George’s paintings of Cajun characters, such as his good friend Rodney Fontenot, The Ragin’ Cajun, a man who, according to George, had “no difficulty in finding his identity in a town of 6,000, almost 4,000 with the name of Fontenot, none claiming to be related to the others.”

As with the Gourmet Dinner Clubs, The Ragin Cajun deserves its own blog post, and I encourage you to read that history, linked here.

Rodrigue donated the use of his copyrights for the Talk About Good II cookbook, so that it might raise funds for the Junior League of Lafayette, “an organization of women,” according to their website, “committed to promoting voluntarism, developing the potential of women, and improving the community through the effective action and leadership of trained volunteers.”

Thirty-two years later, both the recipes and paintings hold up, and Rodrigue remains committed to this worthwhile hometown cause.

Wendy

For a related post, I hope you enjoy “A Sophisticated Gumbo,” in this week’s Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans, featuring paintings of Cajun food by George Rodrigue

To purchase Talk About Good II and other Junior League of Lafayette Cookbooks, visit their book order page

Honesty, an Image for Peace

2011-09-09T09:28:00.001-05:00

Following 9/11, George Rodrigue, like people everywhere, remained shell-shocked for years over the hatred that spawned a terrorist attack. Although he painted God Bless America in direct response, the tragedy of that day and the desire to help, to change the world even in some small way, resonated long after.

The success of the God Bless America print, including the $500,000 it raised for the American Red Cross, surprised Rodrigue, and the experience showed him for the first time that he could use his art not only to raise funds but also to send a message. In 2003 on the second anniversary of 9/11, he teamed up with the International Child Art Foundation (ICAF) to raise money and awareness for their magnanimous programs.

With ICAF’s help, George Rodrigue collected artwork from children worldwide. The theme was “Peace,” and the images, despite their scattered origins, spoke a unified message. He combined the paintings into a collage, held together with the Blue Dog (pictured above; click photo to enlarge). The resulting silkscreen, Honesty, raised $350,000 for ICAF’s programs, including the World Children's Festival in Washington D.C.

The week of September 11th, 2003, Rodrigue joined children, their parents, and art teachers from one hundred countries and all fifty states on the National Mall, brought together by ICAF, where he hosted a four-day painting workshop during the World Children's Festival.

Looking back, the experience was a precursor to the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts, established in 2009. In addition to painting with the children, George and I provided the art supplies for the week. We also presented painting demonstrations and lectures for the visiting parents and art teachers.

At week’s end, George joined the children in creating a pyramid, a three-dimensional sculpture he designed in Louisiana and trucked to Washington D.C. The children painted wooden panels, once again focusing on “Peace.”

Afterwards, George assembled the pyramid, which then toured locations throughout the United States before finding a permanent home in the ICAF Center.

On the tenth anniversary of 9/11, George and I reflect not only on that horrible day in 2001, but also on the hope we saw in these children two years later. Aged ten through twelve, they represented many countries, backgrounds and languages. Yet through the universal language of art, they joined together with a single voice.

The children returned to their home countries and states as friends, and I can’t help but wonder, eight years later, whether these young adults resonate still…..

….with PEACE.

Wendy

-for details of George Rodrigue’s God Bless America, a painting and silkscreen following 9/11, visit here

-also this week, I examine “Loss” using Rodrigue’s classic painting The Day We Told Tee Coon Good-bye, in Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans, linked here

Rodrigue on the Red River

2011-09-01T10:22:00.001-05:00

George Rodrigue has a long history with Shreveport, a northern Louisiana city oftentimes dismissed by southern Louisiana as ‘east Texas.’ As a child, Rodrigue’s own family, in fact, ignored this important part of Louisiana’s culture:

“Growing up in New Iberia,” says George Rodrigue, “our travel plans meant east to New Orleans or Biloxi, or west to Houston. We never went north past Opelousas. I had no knowledge of Shreveport, Monroe, or any of those places. The only thing I knew about Shreveport was what I heard on my radio, the small version of Nashville’s Grand Ol’ Opry, known as the Louisiana Hayride.”

(pictured, Blue Dogs on the Red River, 2011, a silkscreen and painting celebrating the exhibition, “George Rodrigue: Blue Dogs, Louisiana Governors and Russian President Gorbachev,” Sept 23 – Dec 30, 2011, at the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum, Shreveport)

George is the first to admit today, however, that Shreveport, much like its neighbor Monroe, embraces its Louisiana heritage with as much pride as its more famous southern cousin. Furthermore, the north Louisiana city contributes significant cultural history to the South and to America, through Ducks Unlimited, the Louisiana Hayride, and the Red River Revel.

-click photos to enlarge-

These types of events, in fact, first called George Rodrigue north, specifically the Louisiana State Fair (pictured above) and Ducks Unlimited during the 1980s.

“My first collectors were Carl Wiley Jones, Sissy Levine, Lee Hall, Palmer Long, Albert Sklar, and Virginia Shehee. My first formal show in Shreveport was a bank exhibition hosted by Carl Jones sometime in the late 1970s.”

“Carl Jones introduced me to my biggest collectors in Shreveport. One day he walked into my gallery in Lafayette and bought some small Cajun paintings for his duck camp on Grand Lake in south Louisiana. Eventually he enticed me up north, where I painted for Ducks Unlimited, first for the Shreveport Chapter, and then for the National Chapter’s convention in New Orleans.”

In the late 1990s, Shreveport’s siren called us back again, this time for the Red River Revel. George and I spent five days each year of 1997, 1998 and 1999 promoting arts education and cultural awareness in a city that, by this time, we’d both grown to love.

At the Red River Revel, beneath large tents for area school children, we first practiced our painting demonstrations and lectures, presentations we’ve since taken across the country and shared dozens of times.

(pictured, a painting demonstration at the Alexandria Museum of Art earlier this year; click photo to enlarge, and read more here)

Later this month, we return to Shreveport with a series of events and a major exhibition of work by George Rodrigue. “Blue Dogs, Louisiana Governors and Russian President Gorbachev,” features paintings from the permanent collection of the New Orleans Museum of Art, private collectors, and the artist’s personal archives, including paintings from the Xerox and Neiman Marcus collections, all five of Rodrigue’s Governor’s portraits, and the complete Saga of the Acadians.

(pictured, At the Head of the Red River 2011 acrylic on canvas 48x72 inches)

This exhibition is the last stop of a seven-city statewide tour organized by the New Orleans Museum of Art in celebration of its centennial, and currently on view at the LSU Museum of Art in Baton Rouge (through September 18, 2011, detailed here).

From the beginning, neither George nor I saw Shreveport as an eastern Dallas or a northern New Orleans. Rather, we appreciate it as a unique southern city, unfairly labeled ‘the north’ by much of the state, even as Shreveport cheers on the Saints and LSU. They came through for us with tremendous support following Hurricane Katrina, and they appreciate with enthusiasm our cultural Louisiana anomalies --- like gumbo and crawfish farms and cypress trees and Huey Long and ….. Blue Dogs!

Wendy

“George Rodrigue: Blue Dogs, Louisiana Governors and Russian President Gorbachev” opens at the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum Sept 23 to December 30, 2011

Shreveport museum events with the artist include Glitz and Grits on Sept 23 and a painting demo/lecture on Sept 24. Space is limited. For tickets and information visit http://friendsoflsem.org/ or call (318) 632-2020

For information on price, size, and availability regarding the silkscreen Blue Dogs on the Red River visit www.georgerodrigue.com

For more on Rodrigue’s Ducks Unlimited and Festival posters, see the post “Fairs and Festivals”

And on a personal note….. Many thanks to all of you who read and shared “For New Orleans,” my recent post-Katrina tribute for Gambit. It received record-breaking readership and response, resonating in ways I never expected-

Chef Paul Prudhomme

2011-08-25T09:58:00.001-05:00

If George Rodrigue has a chef's counterpart, it’s Paul Prudhomme. They grew up in the relatively close Cajun towns of New Iberia and Opelousas, Louisiana. As young boys both pursued their passions as career goals, determined to hone their talents and define their lives with innovative, bold and personal contributions to the art of painting and food.

Friends for thirty years, they support each other’s talents and efforts at festivals, fund-raisers, gallery exhibitions, and restaurant openings.

On August 20th, 2011 Chef Paul and Rodrigue met on stage at the Manship Theatre in Baton Rouge, where one cooked while the other painted. Chef's assistant Shawn McBride and I moderated, as the auditorium wafted with the blissfully distracting scent of bronzing chicken and heavily-spiced andouille.

-click photos to enlarge-

George spoke first, sharing the story of his 1976 gallery exhibition in Boston, Massachusetts, where he was described as a 'Ky-yoon' artist.

"It was Paul," explained George, "who introduced the Cajun culture to the world."

Chef Paul responded with a French song, preparing the audience for the fun of witnessing these two Cajun greats doing what they love best.

For ninety minutes, as the four of us bantered across the stage, even I was surprised at the parallels between Chef Paul and George Rodrigue. Notably, one produced the first national book on Cajun cooking, while the other produced the first national book on the Cajun culture.

They both set out from the beginning to preserve what they feared at the time were dying aspects of Acadiana, one influenced by his mother's Opelousas kitchen, and the other by his mother's New Iberia photographs.

I first met Chef Paul in the summer of 1991 at the Rodrigue Gallery of New Orleans in the French Quarter.

“Coffee with chicory, Dahlin’,” he requested with a smile.

That fall he helped us open Galerie Blue Dog in Carmel-by-the-Sea, feeding and entertaining thousands of visitors. People called for months afterwards requesting reservations!

George Rodrigue painted Chef Paul's portrait three times. The most famous (above, 1989) commemorates K-Paul’s Louisiana Kitchen in New York City (now closed).

The painting features Rodrigue’s typical style, showing the figure cut out and pasted onto the Louisiana oak tree; yet here George adds ‘the big apple,' also locked in the tree and framing Paul's head. Although barely discernible in a photograph, a redfish appears ghostly in the oak, referencing Prudhomme’s most famous dish, “blackened redfish.” Paul's feet echo the roots of the tree, indicating an inseparable bond between the Louisiana land and the Louisiana chef.

The painting became famous when photographer Annie Leibovitz used it as the backdrop for her portrait of Prudhomme, widely circulated as a magazine ad for American Express.

George also painted Chef in a large genre piece called The Great Cajun Omelet (1984, size 48x65, oil on canvas).

(pictured, Chef Paul with The Great Cajun Omelet and Ronald Reagan: An American Hero)

The painting's story originates in the south of France where Napoleon and his army enjoyed a large omelet made from every egg in the town. The omelet became an annual Easter celebration to feed the poor of Bessiers.

Since 1984 Bessiers' sister city, Abbeville, Louisiana, pays homage to this French tradition with an omelet made of five thousand eggs, distributed free at the festival. Although many chefs participate, it was Paul Prudhomme who first took on the challenge.

(Note: See The Great Cajun Omelet in Baton Rouge until September 18th, 2011 at the exhibition "Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River" at the LSU Museum of Art).

Like George Rodrigue, Chef Paul enjoys challenges of all kinds, including serving daily the freshest meats and seafood. I once asked for a sweet potato pecan pie ‘ala mode’ on a visit to K-Paul’s in the French Quarter, only to learn,

“We don't have ice cream; we don’t have a freezer.”

As a result, following Hurricane Katrina, K-Paul’s was one of the first restaurants to re-open in the city.

George and I feel as comfortable at K-Paul’s as we do in our own kitchen. The restaurant abandoned the family-style seating and no-reservations policy years ago, in favor of small tables and white table cloths and, frankly, a packed house, booked weeks in advance.

The restaurant is full of Rodrigue's paintings, including not only portraits of Chef Paul, but also a Blue Dog sporting a star on its cheek, a traditional reward at K-Paul's for finishing one's meal.

Paul Prudhomme is our neighbor in the Faubourg Marigny. George visits his test kitchen, adjacent to his house, where he shares new spices and special dishes. He has a remarkable gift for taste, and he relays easily every ingredient in a sauce simply from his palate.

When I think of Chef I'm reminded not only of his outstanding, home grown, and innovative cuisine, but also of a regular guy --- down-to earth and full of kindness. He fed thousands of people out of his warehouse following Hurricane Katrina, without press attention or fanfare.

(pictured, outside K-Paul's, September 2005, a few weeks after Hurricane Katrina)

Occasionally Paul and George drive in Chef’s pick-up to a casino in Belle Chasse, where they play poker (and where a quarter’s considered a big raise). They pass a good time with the locals --- a relaxing, easy evening for these Cajun friends.

(pictured, Paul Prudhomme, Pete Fountain, and George Rodrigue at the New Orleans Museum of Art's Rodrigue exhibition, 2008)

The two work naturally together, and this past weekend, as they left the stage laughing, they knew that they entertained the audience as much as each other.

"Let's take this show on the road!" exclaimed Chef.

Wide-eyed, George and Chef looked at each other, realizing the fun and possibilities. Stay tuned for the tour dates (seriously)!

Wendy

-For a related post, see "Good, Good, Good Friends," with Chefs Warren LeRuth, Chris Kerageorgiou, and Goffredo Fraccaro

-I hope you also enjoy "Magic Berries," featuring George Rodrigue's painting Winning Cakes, in this week's Gambit's Blog of New Orleans

Inspired by Louisiana and Scale (New Paintings)

2011-08-18T09:55:00.007-05:00

George Rodrigue’s newest paintings, his most important collection in years coming out of New Orleans, are huge, most 4x6 feet or larger. Normally he paints in his studio in Carmel Valley, California, with long days at his easel and, aside from the occasional houseguest, few interruptions.

This year for the first time in more than a decade, we’re in New Orleans for the summer, foregoing our usual road trips and the central California cool weather in favor of a statewide Louisiana museum tour organized by the New Orleans Museum of Art (currently at the LSU Museum of Art in Baton Rouge).

For George, this has made for less than ideal painting conditions, as our time in New Orleans is fragmented between lectures, foundation events, social obligations and more, as we follow through on our commitment to promote these exhibitions with personal appearances.

(pictured, Four for Mardi Gras, 2011, 42x78)

Surprisingly, we’ve never toured Louisiana in one concentrated, artsy trek. In the past, George might show once every few years in a Louisiana museum, with interim exhibitions outside of the state.

I’m reminded of an exchange years ago at the Blue Dog Café when, upon hearing that we were on a thirty-city book tour, a woman asked, “All over Louisiana?”

George and I laughed about her comment for years, not realizing we would attempt that very thing, with museums rather than bookstores, and seven locations, rather than thirty, but an ambitious tour nonetheless.

Be sure and click these photos to enlarge the images-

(pictured, At the Head of the Red River, 2011, 48x72)

As a result, George paints in spurts, his least favorite way of working. It’s for this reason that I’m surprised at the magnificent paintings coming out of his studio. It turns out that, despite the interruptions, Louisiana inspires George more than ever.

(pictured, Gator Aid, 2011, 48x60)

This tour, its events, and its visitors; the creative and eager children associated with the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts; and especially the large walls of his new gallery space obviously affect George as he thinks creatively.

A number of the new paintings are related directly to the exhibitions, such as “Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River,” pictured above, on view currently at the LSU Museum of Art, and detailed in its own post here.

Most recently, however, George is thinking about Shreveport (Sept. 23 – Dec. 30), the last stop on the tour. He has a long history with this northern Louisiana city (which I’ll detail in a blog post in a few weeks), and the idea of the red river sits well with an artist who focuses on color and strong design, even as he paints Louisiana, its rivers and roads blending as one, and its oak trees strong, repeated shapes since his earliest landscapes.

(pictured, Blue Dogs on the Red River, 2011, 40x60)

George Rodrigue's newest painting, Four Oaks for Four Dogs, finished just this week, combines his Oak Trees, Hurricanes and Blue Dogs, all in a swirling, abstract mass, reflective, he says, of his mood after months on the road enjoying the landscape, the people, and the oddly comforting heat of the state we love.

(pictured, Four Oaks for Four Dogs, 2011, 48x72)

See George Rodrigue’s latest original paintings, sprinkled throughout this post, at his gallery in New Orleans.

If you can't make it to the gallery, perhaps we'll see you in Baton Rouge or Shreveport, or even on the Florida Gulf Coast where we present a series of lectures, school visits, and an exhibition late September with the Mattie Kelly Arts Center and Foundation (more details posting soon), or next summer in ....big announcement... the Texas Panhandle, for an exhibition at the Amarillo Museum of Art.

Wendy

I hope you enjoy “The Art of Self-indulgence,” my latest post for Gambit: a few thoughts on being married to a high profile artist and on blogging in the first person--

For daily updates from George Rodrigue's tour and easel, my blog and more, please join me on twitter-

Jacques George Rodrigue

2011-08-10T10:21:00.007-05:00

He’s George Rodrigue’s son, my stepson, André’s brother, a foundation’s director and a gallery’s future…

He’s the face of a statewide movement towards arts integration in schools; he’s a graduate of LSU followed by Tulane Law School; he’s House Counsel to Rodrigue Studio; he’s the creator of The Bear Head.

He’s humble, devoted to his dad, the foundation, the restaurants and galleries with so much of his being that he crossed that line sometime ago, from job to career, from career to life’s work, from life’s work to life itself, so that the clock never stops.

Every opportunity is a chance to raise awareness for the things he cares most about. (click photos to enlarge)

Although huge accomplishments, Jacques Rodrigue didn’t learn this dedication from his honor status or passing the bar.

He learned it from building crates and cleaning windows, from hanging paintings and hauling frames, from pricing equipment and weighing necessities, from selling paintings and attending exhibitions, from visiting schools and asking questions, from television appearances and public speaking, from studying contracts and protecting copyrights, from publisher meetings and social media.

But were he writing this himself, I have no doubt that Jacques would say that he learned everything from his dad. And indeed, they are more alike everyday, made complete only by the addition of André, the one who reminds all of us to care for others above ourselves, to make wontons with as much dedication as running a foundation or painting a picture.

(pictured, André, George and Jacques as the Blues Brothers; for more on André and Jacques, visit here)

I remember giving the teenage Jacques art books, with hopes that he might take an interest. As far as I know, however, he tossed them aside, more interested in girls and hockey and the next trip to the beach.

Yet now, I can’t keep up with him, as he hits the galleries and museums and suggests books for me, recently scooping me on Steve Martin’s An Object of Beauty and Annie Cohen-Solal’s Leo and His Circle: The Life of Leo Castelli, having read them months before, re-gifting the books I saved for him to someone else.

(pictured, Jacques and his dad with Rob Pruitt's Andy Warhol on a recent visit to New York)

He asked his dad for a Hummer every year of his youth, as George struggled with his answer, knowing it was a bad idea, but not wanting to tell his son no.

Now he asks for nothing, even dismissing today, his thirtieth birthday, like it’s any other day, because he’s overwhelmed with projects and responsibilities. He focuses on his dad’s exhibition in Baton Rouge, recent events in New Orleans, and the all-encompassing George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts. He sets the theme and organizes the next statewide scholarship contest. He arranges events with schools and non-profits for upcoming exhibitions in northwest Florida and Shreveport.

He oversees with natural managerial ability a foundation staff (pictured above) and its interns, focusing everyone through his own vision while appreciating the value of theirs.

(pictured, Jacques Rodrigue with his father's Self-portrait of 1971; for more on this painting see the bottom third of the post "Early Oak Trees and a Regrettable Self-portrait")

Somehow Jacques found his vocation within our family business despite the huge, albeit supportive, shadow of a famous father. He absorbs the best from his dad, while making his own unique and valuable contributions. Following the three short years that he’s worked full-time within the galleries and foundation, I can honestly say that we would not be here without him.

Here's to you, Jacques. Your dad and I could not be more proud of your accomplishments or more pleased with your input and dedication. Like your brother, you are a wonderful young man.

Happy Birthday-
We love you-

Dad and Wendy

Also this week, I come clean about my vanity in my latest post for Gambit: “The Price of Beauty”

White Linen Night, the Unexpected

2011-08-07T11:39:00.006-05:00

I wouldn’t exactly call it a Dirty Linen Warm-Up, and yet it was, in that it was quite warm. But the two events hold separate appeal, one amidst posh, renovated warehouses and the other within the historic and grittier French Quarter.

This was our first White Linen Night as ‘locals’ of the New Orleans Arts District. We opened the doors of the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts’ Education Center at 747 Magazine Street only a few months ago, after nearly a year of construction and planning.

“This is your most beautiful gallery,” a woman said, as I explained that it’s not a gallery, but a non-profit, where we operate scholarship programs, art camps, teacher workshops, George’s Art Closet and more.

“You mean I can’t buy these?” asked another, as she admired an 8-foot chrome and acrylic Blue Dog, part of our ‘Art for Healing’ program.

George designates such works for children’s hospitals, I explained, a nod to his childhood struggle with polio and his isolated, disturbing memories of peers in iron lungs. Today, he hopes the children and their families experience something positive, maybe even something fun, the colorful environment and giant Blue Dog painted alongside their reflection.

(pictured, the only Men in Black: George Rodrigue with Kerry Boutte of Mulate’s, in front of a work from ‘Art for Healing’)

“But where can we buy his paintings?” asked an elderly couple, looking dapper in seersucker and white lace.

I suggested they visit our French Quarter Gallery, opened just over a year ago across the street from the small one-room gallery we occupied since 1989, now a blur as George paints large-scale canvases for the expansive new space.

“We’re from Metairie,” they continued. “We never get to the French Quarter. How long have you had a gallery?”

The people, 40,000 of them by some accounts, strolled in the balmy air of south Louisiana, all in white, like ghosts from a Rodrigue painting.

It was a beautiful scene, and I enjoyed not only the view, but also the mood, an excuse to dress like Blanche DuBois or Joanne Woodward, to break up a long hot summer with sparkling, bottled tans and French manicures, with woven feathers mixed with freshly highlighted hair, with towering wedge-heels despite precarious sidewalks, and with the constant flicker of fans on glowing, smiling faces.

(photo by Matthew Hinton, The Times-Picayune)

Despite one-per-person, we blew through 1500 Blue Dog fans in less than an hour, embarrassingly unprepared for this southern phenomenon.

"We were shocked by the attendance and interest last night in GRFA," says Executive Director Jacques Rodrigue. "I'm excited to share the foundation with the public, and I can't imagine a better event than White Linen Night to get the word out.

"People really responded to the programs and seemed eager to learn about our plans not only for arts integration in all subjects, but also our general support of the arts statewide. My only regret is that we ran out of fans. I'm already thinking about next year!"

To my surprise, of the one thousand or more moist, extended hands and curious visitors, probably a third were tourists, most from far out of state – New York, Arizona, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Oregon. I met schoolteachers on sabbatical, young people on a life’s quest, artists seeking inspiration, children visiting parents, and writers, filmmakers, musicians and more.

“Who painted these?” asked a man, as he admired George’s portraits of authors Walker Percy, Shirley Ann Grau and John Kennedy Toole, hanging behind the desk of GRFA’s Director of Operations, Gus Anderson.

“Where’s the Blue Dog?” asked another, as though it were hidden behind a tree.

"Tell us about the trees!" said one group, as I taught an impromptu class of sorts, explaining the importance of George Rodrigue and his oaks within the genre of Louisiana Landscape Painting.

The biggest shock for locals came from the original painting of Mahalia Jackson, the Jazz Fest poster that never was, along with its story of predictable New Orleans politics (detailed here).

“What are those?” asked hundreds of people, pointing to the Hurricanes, painted years before Katrina, and swirling across the walls of GRFA’s Education Director Marney Robinson’s office.

In the foundation we display a permanent record of a 45-year career, using paintings from our private archives, pieces normally hidden away in a warehouse storage bin (resting, a favorite museum excuse), some of them, such as The Spirit of the Next Hero (pictured below and detailed here), in the open air for the first time in 25 years.

“Why doesn’t he sell paintings like this in the gallery?” they wanted to know, as I explained that there simply aren’t any available, just as there aren’t any of the earlier Blue Dog paintings available.

Everything is one-of-a-kind, and everything is in private collections, I continued. The gallery displays the most recent work, an exhibition of George’s important canvases of the moment, sometimes still drying even as we hang them on the walls.

(pictured, original paintings from the Xerox Collection, a series of works from 2000, hang in the office of GRFA's Director of Development, Wayne Fernandez)

White Linen Night, of course, is not just about us. In fact, it is barely about us, as we joined dozens of galleries on and near Julia Street. Despite big plans to see it all, I missed everything, unable to break away. -click photo to enlarge

At the top of my list were Jean Bragg’s exhibition of Oscar Quesada, Mallory Page’s Minimal Glam, Jonathan Ferrara’s Stephen Collier and Generic Art Solutions, the latest by Steve Martin and Jamali at Steve Martin Fine Art, box assemblages by Audra Kohout at Herriard-Cimino, works by Robery Gordy and Tina Girouard at the Contemporary Art Center (reviewed here in Gambit), and last but not least the new Avery Fine Perfumery on St. Joseph Street, the very idea of the place triggering a re-read of Tom Robbins’ Jitterbug Perfume.

Undeterred, I’ll visit the galleries this week, enjoying these exhibitions and more within the air-conditioned quiet before donning my ‘dirty linen’ for an equally fun and artsy event in the French Quarter this Saturday.

(pictured, judging martinis with Ally Burguieres of the new Gallery Burguieres, 736 Royal Street, in search of the official drink for Dirty Linen Night)

Hope to see you at 730 Royal Street this Saturday, August 13th, from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll have Blue Dog fans; but you can count on two things for sure - we'll have great art and a good time!

Wendy

-for a related post, I hope you enjoy “The Artist’s Inspiration” in this week’s Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans
-also, don't miss Times-Picayune art critic Doug MacCash's White Linen re-cap; he hit it all!

-for more information on the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts visit here

The Spirit of the Next Hero

2011-08-04T15:49:00.003-05:00

“I’m a naïve surrealist,” said George Rodrigue in 1985, “not a sports artist.”

This week George Rodrigue unveils his large-scale painting The Spirit of the Next Hero, on view for the first time since he painted it in 1985 as the official poster for the National Sports Festival, an annual event renamed the U.S. Olympic Festival the following year.

(click photo to enlarge: The Spirit of the Next Hero features Olympic gold medalists Linda Fratianne, Evelyn Ashford, Greg Louganis, Bart Conner, Mike Eruzione and Mark Breland)

Held during 1985 in Baton Rouge, the event is “more a festive celebration of sports than a hard-edged competition. ‘This is a fun event,’ said diver Greg Louganis, who won two gold medals in Los Angeles and is one of the celebrity athletes competing at Baton Rouge. ‘This is a relatively relaxed competition.’” (Sports Illustrated, August 5, 1985)

(pictured, George Rodrigue photographed by Frank Lotz Miller for the Morning Advocate)

Named for composer (of Rocky theme-song fame) Bill Conti’s original composition “The Spirit of the Next Hero,” Rodrigue focused his painting on the Olympic gold medal winners, represented on banners hanging behind, and the spirit of the future Olympian, in this case a confident female athlete.

(Composer Bill Conti and artist George Rodrigue hold the Olympic torch)

Silkscreen prints from the painting benefited the National Sports Festival.

“The painting fits what I do,” said Rodrigue in 1985. “I was honored that the festival committee came directly to me and selected me to do the image. When I first talked to them, I had no idea what I’d come up with --- I’m a ‘naïve surrealist,’ not a sports artist.”

Originally the painting and print were unveiled at a gala event in Baton Rouge at the Louisiana Arts and Science Center, kicking off the 1985 festival with the visiting athletes. Rodrigue signed prints during the evening as his friend Chef Paul Prudhomme served his signature dish, blackened redfish.

Not to worry if you missed that event, because you have another chance on August 20^th2011 when Rodrigue and Prudhomme once again present together in Baton Rouge, this time at the LSU Museum of Art during the exhibition “Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River,” featuring Prudhomme in Rodrigue's Great Cajun Omelet (pictured above and detailed here).

Through a series of circumstances and generous patrons, the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts obtained the inspiring painting, The Spirit of the Next Hero, for its new education center at 747 Magazine Street in the New Orleans Arts District. This Saturday, August 6^th 2011 we unveil both our center and the painting during White Linen Night, an annual arts event sponsored by Whitney Bank and benefiting the Contemporary Arts Center.

(pick up a free Blue Dog fan during White Linen Night; more info here)

The painting joins other Rodrigue portraits, including authors Walker Percy and Shirley Ann Grau, along with a self-portrait of Rodrigue with political analyst Gus Weill. In addition to the portrait room, the center includes large-scale Cajun works such as Louisiana Cowboys and the Fais do-do, as well as an entire room of Hurricanes and important Blue Dog works from the Xerox Collection.

The education center is a focus of activity for the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts (GRFA), including both student and teacher workshops, as well as our annual scholarship contest, print donation program, and George’s Art Closet, providing art supplies to schools.

The original paintings star during White Linen Night this weekend, however, as canvases such as The Spirit of the Next Hero, usually reserved for storage or museum loan due to their size, finally hang on permanent public view.

George and I hope to see you at 747 Magazine Street, near Julia Street, for a tour of paintings and programs this Saturday during White Linen Night and again next weekend at the Rodrigue Gallery in the French Quarter for Dirty Linen Night. Come on out and support the arts. It's a great time!

Wendy

-pictured above, the GRFA staff: Wayne Fernandez, Gus Anderson, Marney Robinson and Jacques Rodrigue

-also in honor of White Linen Night, I hope you enjoy “The Artist’s Inspiration” for Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans

Expectations in Baton Rouge

2011-07-29T15:16:00.003-05:00

I’ve pondered how to write about this past weekend without turning my blog into a society page of party pics from the Louisiana State University Museum of Art's opening for "Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River." But it seems there's no way around it. Everyone was there, snapping photographs, posing for TV cameras, and eating chicken fingers (thanks to Raising Cane’s).

George Rodrigue enjoyed a once-in-a-lifetime experience with his portrait subjects, governors and lieutenant governors, all on hand and smiling for the cameras.

(pictured, Marion Edwards, George Rodrigue, Governor Edwin Edwards; Rodrigue painted Governor Edwards' portrait, on view until 9/23 at the LSU Museum of Art, in 1983; for the history of Rodrigue's portraits of Louisiana's Governors, visit here)

Most swooned over Governor Edwin Edwards, recently released from prison and newly married (as of today) to Trina Grimes Scott of Alexandria. They seem happy, which can’t be easy given the public spotlight, and I wondered especially about her, growing up in small town central Louisiana, facing scrutiny regarding her sincerity and character (and his), as she settles down with a man more than fifty years her senior.

I thought of her also as I tore the extended label from the wall alongside Wendy and Me, our wedding portrait, incorrectly dated 2010.

“I’ve come too far to face the naysayers again,” I explained, insisting that the museum correct the date to 1997, restoring my credibility, as I shuddered at a replay of “It will never last.”

When possible, I avoided the crowds and swooned less over Edwards and more over Governor Blanco, bravely fighting eye cancer, venturing out sans makeup, viewing the show through a blur because she wanted to support George Rodrigue, her hometown friend of more than fifty years.

(pictured, George and Wendy Rodrigue, Governor Kathleen Blanco, Baton Rouge Mayor Kip Holden, Coach Raymond Blanco; Rodrigue's portrait of Governor Blanco hangs behind; click photo to enlarge)

I embraced Marion Edwards, in his brother’s shadow once again, and yet devoted to his sibling and to his state. I watched and admired a man in his eighties cling to good ol’ boy Louisiana while encouraging his wife Penny’s interest in yoga, the arts and the environment through her foundation, Environmentalists Without Borders.

(pictured, Wendy and George Rodrigue with Penny and Marion Edwards; Marion's portrait as King of the Washington D.C. Mardi Gras, 1984, hangs behind; click photo to enlarge)

After greeting several thousand visitors over four days in Baton Rouge, I remained nervous even after our return to New Orleans, second-guessing the lectures, meetings, and tours, hoping people felt appreciated, so that they know how much this means not only to George, but also to me, to his sons, and to his friends, all of us proud of his accomplishments and eager to share this forty-five year diverse collection of paintings with others.

(pictured, George Rodrigue shares his early landscapes with Todd Graves of Raising Cane’s, who helped sponsor this exhibition)

I was pleased on opening night to see friends from the New Orleans Museum of Art, staff members Marilyn Dittmann and Gail Asprodites, and NOMA Trustee Brian Schneider, supporting George Rodrigue and this exhibition, inspired by NOMA’s collection of Rodrigue paintings.

In their honor, as with our recent visit to the Alexandria Museum of Art, I focused on paintings from the touring NOMA exhibition, Copley to Warhol, celebrating the museum’s centennial and opening this fall in Baton Rouge, interweaving these great American works with paintings by George Rodrigue as I spoke within the Manship Theatre while George painted alongside me.

(pictured, Sunday in the Manship Theatre, including the first Blue Dog painting, featured on screen and in the exhibition; click photo to enlarge)

George paused mid-lecture and reminded the audience of his first visit to Baton Rouge, a 1971 exhibition at the Old State Capitol, resulting in a hard lesson and his first newspaper review, a feature in the Sunday Advocate: “Painter Makes Bayou Country Dreary, Monotonous Place."

The audience laughed at the irony, having seen the current exhibition's far different review, also in the Sunday Advocate: “Blue Dog Days; George Rodrigue’s iconic canine stars in the LSU Museum of Art.” Of note is that the paintings featured in that 1971 exhibition and article are on view now in the LSU MOA show.

We look forward to several more rounds of events at the LSU Museum of Art, as well as a fresh start at the Louisiana State Exhibit Museum in Shreveport this fall, the last stop on our statewide tour.

Thank you, Louisiana, for visiting these shows and welcoming us to your cities. We hope the exhibition, the events, and our appreciation through personal appearances is everything you expected….and more.

Wendy

For information on upcoming events with George Rodrigue at the LSU Museum of Art, visit here

Also, I hope you enjoy “Remembering Old Biloxi,” a love letter to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, my latest post for Gambit

Okaloosa Island

2011-07-22T12:38:00.004-05:00

The white sands of Okaloosa Island encompass only 875 acres, a narrow, three-mile stretch of land between Fort Walton Beach and Destin in the Florida Panhandle. Although part of the larger Santa Rosa Island, reaching forty miles to Navarre Beach, Okaloosa Island remains isolated from the larger area, a military training ground reserved by the United States Air Force.

(pictured, Okaloosa Island, 2011, an original silkscreen collage, combining photography, drawing, and paint by George Rodrigue, 16x38 inches, edition 90; click photo to enlarge)

As a child I walked often to the edge of the island and peered through the fence at the mysterious deserted beach on the other side. In the other direction, I walked a mile to the pier, a giant dock stretching ¼ mile into the Gulf of Mexico, surrounded by hotels and tourists on the most populated part of the beach (the area pictured in George's print).

We moved to the island in 1977, trading our neighborhood house and yard across town for a condo and a view. From our front door and balcony at Emerald Isle, I looked both directions, staring every day of my childhood up and down the oft-deserted coastline surrounding our building. Even then I tried, much like today as I watch George paint in his studio, to concentrate on the moment, the rare experience of living on one of America’s most beautiful beaches, or of watching one of America’s greatest artists at work.

(George Rodrigue paints cats in his Carmel studio)

Dolores Pepper, my wild side, was born on this beach. But that’s another story, and I’ve already covered it in detail here. My mother recalled my teenage years as me waving hello or good-bye to the boys, visiting on spring break or family vacations.

It was on this beach that I first met a Cajun, an Hebert from Lafayette, introducing him as He-burt to my mother, until he corrected me with ‘A Bear.’ We dated for a week each summer for years, despite the fact that my lanky 5’ 10” frame towered over his stocky 5’ 5” one. Each year he dug a hole in that sugary, soft, cool sand, where I stood while we kissed in the moonlight, the waves breaking behind us.

(pictured, Hebert, Yes; A Bear, No, from Rodrigue's Saga of the Acadians, now on view at the LSU Museum of Art - see the bottom of this post)

This was my beach, and I felt responsible for it. At night I warned tourists of the dangers of sharks swimming close to the shore. Early morning, my sister Heather and I collected beer cans and cigarette butts, cleaning up after the spring breakers. We protested as people uprooted sea oats to decorate their sand castles, and we walked, every day, up and down, taking it all in.

I lived on this beach for eight years, and my mom for another ten. She always knew where to find me. Heather and I wore our bathing suits under our school clothes from March through May, running straight to the beach from the bus, rather than miss one minute of sun to change.

I grew up holding my mom’s hand as we jumped the waves; ignoring her call as I swam into deep water to the sandbar; watching her, dressed for work, as she stood at the end of the boardwalk hollering “Wendy Anne!,” because the dishwasher remained full and the living room dusty. She patched my jellyfish stings with meat tenderizer and lectured me endlessly on the dangers of sun exposure.

Heather and I dove for sand dollars, swimming all the way back to the beach just to show our mom, and then all the way back to the sandbar, returning them home. We slid on homemade cardboard sleds with our dad on the mountainous dunes, now mostly swept away.

Despite all of those years and memories, Heather and I can’t find a single picture from the beach. We didn’t own a camera, a float, or a beach ball. I don’t think we took anything to the beach but a towel. Once a week I carried my allowance, a dollar in quarters, walking up from the beach to the nearby Tom Thumb for an icy and a few turns at Pac Man.

(pictured, ‘The Next Generation,’ nephews William and Wyatt)

George Rodrigue created the silkscreen Okaloosa Island for me. My dad still has a place there, and we visit every few years.

This year, September 28 – October 2, we make a special visit to the Miracle Strip, when the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts teams up with the Mattie Kelly Arts Foundation for a series of school visits, workshops, and fundraisers, all benefiting the arts in education on the Florida Gulf Coast and throughout Louisiana. (We’ll post a list of events with details at www.georgerodrigue.com next month).

Such visits are par for the course in George’s home state, particularly in south Louisiana, such as the events surrounding the current exhibition at the LSU Museum of Art in Baton Rouge. At last I have a chance to give back to my hometown, to a place that gave me so much, a place I never once took for granted.

Wendy

For more information on the silkscreen Okaloosa Island, including pricing and availability, contact Rodrigue Studio

For a related post I hope you enjoy "Remembering Old Biloxi," in this week's Gambit's Blog of New Orleans

We’re in Baton Rouge this weekend for the opening of “Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River,” a collection of eighty-five original Rodrigue paintings at the Louisiana State University Museum of Art, July 23^rd to September 18^th, 2011. For a list of related events with George Rodrigue, visit here.

For updates with photographs and more, follow us on twitter: @George_Rodrigue and @wendyrodrigue

Gator Aid (Nude Swamp Women)

2011-07-16T20:29:00.027-05:00

George Rodrigue and I are in Las Vegas this weekend, enjoying a three-day vacation before the much-anticipated, happy chaos of the upcoming Baton Rouge exhibition, opening July 23^rd with a series of events at the Louisiana State University Museum of Art.

For that reason, I’m keeping my blog light-and-easy, with mostly pictures and a few oddball thoughts/quotes. Truth is I’m focused on an upcoming Gambit post, titled something like, “Why Art Doesn’t Work in Las Vegas.”

Unlike the working title, it’s a positive post, detailing artistic wonders just off of the Strip, like the new Frank Gehry-designed Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health, as well as our short spurts of adoration for the fake and over-the-top, beginning with a fun visit last night to the Minus 5 Ice Bar, where we met up with their Director of Operations, my high school classmate Noel Bowman (pictured above with George; be sure and click to enlarge).

In the meantime, I share with you photographs of George’s latest masterpiece, Gator Aid, a four by six foot canvas now on view in the Rodrigue Gallery, New Orleans, a painting and title he describes as follows:

“Most people think of an alligator as a dangerous and spooky swamp creature; but in certain situations in life, people need a gator to come to their rescue or aid. There are plenty of times when a gator in my back pocket, or gator boots, or a gator belt have helped me out.”

I insisted he get serious. He continues...

“I grew up in New Iberia with a swamp in the city limits, and we had small, small alligators. I never saw a large one until 1955 at City Park in New Orleans.”

But what about the entire painting (click photo to enlarge), I asked. Why the flowers?

“I love flowers, and I love gators. I love oak trees and Blue Dogs.”

As I said, we're on vacation. Obviously avoiding a discussion of style, George shared a story instead:

“In 1980 my Catholic High buddy Ed Vice and I went fishing on Marsh Island. We left at 4:00 a.m. so we could catch the fish before everyone else. The day started off bad when, on the way to the dock, we ran out of gas. I remember that it cost me a fortune -twenty bucks- to pay the gas station guy."

(George, on the left, with Ed Vice, 5th grade, New Iberia)

"In the swamp, I half-slept, flat on my back in the boat, watching the sunrise while Vice drove. As I studied the sky, I noticed that my view circled the same clouds again and again. I stood up and realized Vice was gone. I controlled the spinning boat, turned off the motor and started yelling.

'George I’m over here next to the bank!' he called.

"Immediately I saw it: a big gator sunned himself not ten feet away from my friend. Vice squinted at me, near-blind, after losing his glasses during his fall from the boat.

I never told him about the gator, afraid he might panic, and I had no idea where we were or how to get back. Vice couldn’t see four feet in front of him.

"It took two cans of gas and seven hours, but I found our way to the port of New Iberia. We never did fish.

"So every time I paint a gator, no matter what the color, I remember Vice who could have gotten eaten by an alligator on Marsh Island.”

(pictured, George Rodrigue with his buddies Ray Hay and Ed Vice, Lafayette, LA 1980; both men were the subject of many Rodrigue paintings over the years; see the posts under 'Cajuns' to the right of this story)

There’s your story, the same one told to me as we flew to Las Vegas yesterday and recounted again as I practiced yoga this morning. Admittedly, it leaves style behind; but I’ve written about George's style many times in the past (here’s a good example); and frankly, it's pretty good storytelling-style.....and I’m lucky to be posting at all.

In addition, in following my stat counter recently, I’m alarmed at how many of you find my blog by googling ‘nude swamp women.’ Heavenly day! (Visit the culprit, "Swamp Women," if you dare, here).

George, however, thought this was a kick and insisted that we not disappoint. Presenting.... "Swamp Lady," a new design for the series Bodies*, by George Rodrigue (click photo to enlarge).

Finally, I leave you with a photo of another recent alligator painting, as it was installed this week at the LSU Museum of Art for their upcoming Rodrigue exhibition, July 23 – Sept 18, 2011. For more on both the painting and exhibition visit “Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River.” (again, be sure and click the photo to enlarge)

For a list of events in the coming weeks with George and myself at the LSU Museum of Art, visit here. We’d love to see you!

Wendy

*For more on George Rodrigue's series, Bodies, see the posts "The Nude Figure" and "The Art of Modeling"

For some summer fun I hope you also enjoy “Summer in Louisiana: BMX, Swamp Tours and Art Camp” from this week’s Gambit’s Blog of New Orleans

My Favorite Painting

2011-07-10T15:43:00.004-05:00

The Loup-garou is my favorite painting.

I first saw it on a Sunday afternoon in 1991, a day that changed my life. I walked into the Rodrigue Gallery in the French Quarter to visit a friend, the gallery manager. At the time, I worked at Ann Taylor while attending graduate school at Tulane University, and I worried as my college job morphed into my future. If I didn’t take a chance, I might lose the art world.

That day I sought advice regarding museum work. My undergraduate studies at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas focused on the Northern Renaissance. Contemporary art was far from my mind, and my exposure to modern art was limited to the Vienna Secessionists of early 20^th century Austria, a passion honed during eight months at the American University in Vienna. (For related posts, see "Indiscretion: A Nude Addendum" and "A Night at the Opera")

(pictured, a painting by Netherlandish painter Hans Memling, 1430-1494)

My exposure to art began with my mother’s paintings and her treasured art books, followed by the King Tut exhibit at the New Orleans Museum of Art in 1977, and even the craft tents at the Pensacola Art Fair and Destin Seafood Festival. How did I miss the artistic gene, I wondered. Where do I get that thought, ability, and expression? Where do I find the guts to take something from in here and put it out there? (notwithstanding this blog...)

In 1991 I knew nothing of George Rodrigue or his art. I’d never been to Lafayette nor visited his gallery in the French Quarter.

The minute I stepped through the Rodrigue Gallery door, I stared at the far wall and a 6x4 foot canvas. Without thinking, I touched it. I was stunned by the power in this painting, by the idea of some hand applying and blending the goopy paint just so, by an artist making something all about, and yet not the least bit about, one strong shape.

I learned later that this was George’s first painting of the Blue Dog by itself, removed from the Cajun background. I didn’t even recognize it as a dog.

“What is it?” I whispered to my friend.

“It’s the Blue Dog,” he said.

Within a week I left both Ann Taylor and graduate school and worked full-time with the Loup-garou in the Rodrigue Gallery. (Read the history of the Blue Dog here.)

Within six months I moved to California, my first visit to the West coast, where I spent six years at the Rodrigue Gallery in Carmel-by-the-Sea. I called my friend,

“Please send me the Loup-garou.”

“No way. Too expensive to ship.”

I asked until he agreed, and the Loup-garou hung by my desk for two years until my co-worker Sandra sold the painting. At $50,000 it was our biggest sale to date in Carmel.

The gallery’s success, however, did not assuage my disappointment. In 1997 when George Rodrigue and I married, I still talked about it.

In 2002 George shocked me with the Loup-garou, returned by some negotiation still unknown to me, and the painting hung in our home for the first time.

As I write this, I exchange a stare with my painting. I’m as confused and mesmerized and weak-kneed as I was twenty years ago.

(pictured, Rodrigue's Blue Cameo Glass Vase sits on a table in front of the Loup-garou in our Faubourg Marigny home; for more on the glass works, visit here)

Great paintings take on a life of their own, beyond the artist’s intent or the owner’s collection, or even (perhaps George’s most frustrating battle) some collective assumption about them. The greatest works of art pose questions long after the artist's death. Consider Degas' Yellow Ballerina, Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, and Monet's Water Lilies. Similarly, I'm amazed, considering my current vocation, at my continued fascination with artists such as the Limbourg Brothers, pictured below.

(1385-1416, click photo to enlarge; note, each of the links in the above paragraph relate to posts about those artists and George Rodrigue).

The reason the Blue Dog lasts is not because it’s a dog. I like dogs, but I’ve never had one, nor am I a ‘dog person.’ The Blue Dog lasts because it’s painted and designed well, because it’s rooted in twenty-five years of Cajun paintings, because no matter how long we wait, it won't explain itself, and because, more than anything else, it is painted by George Rodrigue.

I’m not talking about George's appealing manner or 'marketing genius' (a naysayer's backhanded compliment), nor his artistic intent or commentary. I’m talking about something far more complex and unique to him: his style.

Wendy

Read about this self-portrait, George's least favorite painting, in the bottom-third of the post "Early Oak Trees and a Regrettable Self-Portrait"

For some summer fun, I hope you enjoy "A Louisiana Summer: Bicycle Motocross, Swamp Tours and Art Camps," and, in case you missed it last week, experience the insanity of Swamp Women," both for Gambit's Blog of New Orleans

Blue Dog Glass and Other Unique Rodrigue Items

2011-07-09T10:06:00.004-05:00

Although partial to paint on canvas, George Rodrigue experiments often with other mediums, creating the unexpected within his signature subjects. Printmaking is the most obvious other than painting, particularly his Cajun festival posters and Blue Dog silkscreens.

(click photo to zoom, a cameo glass vase within Rodrigue's home; the painting Loup-garou, 1991, hangs in the background and will be on display, along with the vase, in the upcoming LSU Museum of Art exhibition)

Other mediums include both Cajun and Blue Dog sculptures in bronze, furniture designs, fiberglass cows and human figures, thousands of sketches, including pastel and charcoal renderings, rug designs, cowboy boots, clothing, jewelry, pottery, neon, and recently large scale Blue Dog works in chrome, aluminum, and steel.

(pictured, Rodrigue stands with a fiberglass cow, detailed in this post, installed this week at the Hilton Baton Rouge Capitol Center adjacent to the LSU Museum of Art at the Shaw Center, and host to several related Rodrigue museum events).

Between 1993 and 1995 George Rodrigue worked with Kelsey Murphy and Pilgrim Glass in West Virginia to recreate his Blue Dog designs as cameo glass. The layered pieces are sandblasted, revealing Rodrigue’s raised patterns in three bowls and a vase, each in editions of thirty-five. (An early Rodrigue landscape, also scheduled for the LSU exhibition, hangs in the background)

With the exception of the glass, bronzes, and some jewelry, Rodrigue created these novelty items for his own collection and experimentation, offering very few for sale. For this reason, the bulk of these works remain in his private archives.

(pictured, one of two goblets Rodrigue created with Pilgrim Glass in 1994 as mementos from his reign as King of the Washington D.C. Mardi Gras; he presented the matching glass to Queen Kate Graham; the painting Immaculate Dog from 1992 hangs in the background)

The upcoming George Rodrigue exhibition, “Blue Dogs and Cajuns on the River,” at the Louisiana State University Museum of Art in Baton Rouge, July 23^rd – September 18^th, features examples from most of these mediums. Rodrigue installed the smaller items this week, interspersed with his memorabilia in the museum’s large display case.

(Be sure and click the photo to zoom; notice the Pilgrim glass vase, the Amuse Bouche etched wine bottle, and Rodrigue’s Blue Dog cowboy boots)

Of these novelty items, the glass pieces most often elicit audible gasps from viewers. Generally, people seem surprised by the quality of craftsmanship. Rodrigue is a perfectionist when it comes to his art, and he explores each idea to its fullest, in some cases taking years to find the best materials for his vision, as with his recent chrome mixed medias, pictured below and detailed here.

In 2004 Rodrigue again experimented with glass, this time with large relief pieces (30x21 inches) suspended between iron poles. He completed only three such works, two in blue and one clear, as he struggled with imperfections in the thick glass.

Ironically, Rodrigue’s favorite glass piece comes from his friend, Steve Santillo, who co-owns the Blue Dog Café and Jolie’s Louisiana Bistro in Lafayette, Louisiana with George’s sons. He surprised Rodrigue several years ago with a stained glass version of the painting Dependence, transformed by Santillo’s own hand. Recently Rodrigue worked Santillo’s piece into the architectural elements of the new offices of the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts at 747 Magazine Street in the New Orleans Arts District.

The original painting remains in Rodrigue’s personal collection and, when available, echoes Santillo’s work within the GRFA offices. Although the stained glass remains on Magazine Street, Dependence, detailed in the post ‘The Abstract Paintings,’ heads to Baton Rouge next week for the LSU exhibition.

Wendy

For a list of events related to the upcoming George Rodrigue exhibition (July 23 – Sept 18, 2011) at the LSU Museum of Art visit here

And for fun this week, I hope you enjoy the excitement and danger of ‘Swamp Women’ at my blog for Gambit’s Best of New Orleans

Musings of Heather the Great (an Artist’s Sister-in-Law)

2011-06-30T16:31:00.001-05:00

My sister, Heather Wolfe Parker, a.k.a. 'Heather T. Great,' (her title since grade school), steps in as a guest-blogger this week-

“Hello?”

“Hey George! It’s your sister.”

“Who?”

(pictured above, my son Wyatt, me, my dad, George)

It’s the same ol’ dull routine each time I phone.

Poor George has been bludgeoned by the force that is our family for nearly twenty years.

I first met George Rodrigue when I was twenty, an Ole Miss sophomore with little more than the next party on my mind. He was, and remains, unintimidating, as he rendered me effortlessly on a wine-stained cocktail napkin.

It wasn’t long before George began accompanying my sister on our Wyoming family vacations and showing up on the New Orleans West Bank at my Grandma Helen’s for Christmas. Clearly this was serious torture that my own future husband endured simultaneously. I started thinking that this guy might be serious about my sister.

Sure enough, they married, and my sister inherited two boys, an old lady, and a French, wannabe Don Juan named Romain. So I packed a bag and visited the honeymooners in Lafayette.

What I found startled me. My independent, savvy sister wore her apron like a badge of courage as she cooked and gardened relentlessly. Honestly, I never knew she could make anything other than tacos and tuna salad. Who’s Your Mama? Are You Catholic and Can You Make a Roux? (Marcelle Beinvenue) became her Bible, as she heeded our mom’s only homemaking advice: “If you can read, you can cook.” Chocolate cakes and red beans and rice quickly vanished as teenage boys clambered through the kitchen.

I felt like an outsider in this odd house of boys, and I wondered if my sister shared similar feelings. How was I to understand these testosterone laden people who were taking my sister away?

Her days long and tiring, Wendy dropped into bed early in order to rise before dawn and bake the next cake. Bored, I hovered in the kitchen lapping up dessert crumbs when André came in. “Hey.” “Hey”. Those were the only words my new nephew, three years my junior, and I had ever spoken. Then he broke the ice. “Would you like some ice cream?” I’m more of a salty gal, but I couldn’t pass up the offer for some company or the opportunity to get to know this new part of my family. “I’d love some.”

We sat for hours discussing Star Wars, André and I both anxiously awaiting the prequels. I listened rather clueless to his many concerns about China. He shared his interest in war history. As an Art History major, I shared my descriptions of artists such as Delacroix and Leutze, who painted history for me. We became friends.

In the years since my fleeting moment of boredom in Wendy’s Lafayette kitchen, the honeymooners’ booming business moved them to New Orleans. Jacques earned a law degree and operates the thriving George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts. André continues to pursue knowledge in all forms, and is known as a won-ton whiz at his Lafayette restaurant, the Blue Dog Café, co-owned with his brother. And, as luck would have it, my husband and I were blessed with two boys.

My boys are visiting Aunt Wendy and Uncle George this week, attending art camp at the Foundation while my sister and I plan our 4^th of July festivities and she completes tasks for the upcoming Baton Rouge exhibition. Because we want her to play by the pool and join us for an airboat ride, I’ve attempted to lighten her load with this post. Please don’t hold it against her.

Heather

Note from Wendy: Many thanks to my sister Heather for lightening my load with a guest post! You can follow her regularly at her blog, Adventures of a BMX Mom

I did manage to post for Gambit this week. I hope you enjoy 'A Muddled World,' the crazy account of my search for a stranger in a Thibodaux shelter following Hurricane Katrina

Now, if only I can get my LSU Museum work done in time for the airboat ride.........

Looking for Summer Shade

2011-06-25T20:43:00.008-05:00

It is one hot summer, and for the first time in twenty years, George Rodrigue and I remain in Louisiana throughout the steamy months.

(pictured, My Future’s So Bright, I’ve Got to Wear Shades, 1993, silkscreen edition of 100)

Most years we hit the road in our truck, driving west. We used to say that our vacation starts the minute we cross the Texas border into New Mexico; but we’ve softened on that point, falling in love with the Lone Star State. Fort Stockton is now a destination, and tradition insists that I drive the long stretch between Wichita Falls and Amarillo, so that George is free to photograph the grain silos and the cattle.

(See the Texas posts to the right of this story under “The Road”)

This year we only dream about those drives, tied to Louisiana for a yearlong statewide traveling museum exhibition of George Rodrigue’s paintings, sponsored by the New Orleans Museum of Art. This involves many events, including lectures, painting demonstrations, children’s workshops, receptions with the artist and more, with the next round beginning late July at the LSU Museum of Art in Baton Rouge. (See the bottom of this post for a schedule of events; for details from the recent painting demo in Alexandria, pictured below, visit here. Click image to zoom).

I wrote a blog this week for Gambit, the New Orleans weekly paper, about the "Summer of Love," about heartbreak and true love, revealing probably way too much of our personal lives, and yet blending easily into the universal.

“After all,” wrote one reader, “who hasn’t felt this way before?”

(read “Summer of Love” here, if you dare)

The experience of writing the story left me sentimental and romantic, both appropriate feelings for a ‘glowing’ southern gal (that’s right, the rumor is true; we don’t sweat), as I recall my New Orleans cousin, when she fainted on the dance floor in the middle of her August wedding reception,

“Ya’ll keep dancing,” sighed the bride, as she dropped to the ground, “it’s just the vapors.”

(Read about the Cajun Bride of Oak Alley, pictured above, here)

In New Orleans, people rarely complain about the heat. We women don sundresses, and the men break out their seersucker. We carry fans to parties, sweaters to heavily air-conditioned movies, and koozies just in case….

We also visit with family. My sister, who lives in Tallahassee, Florida, runs a summer camp for her boys, constantly making plans for them over the hot months. Last year they visited us in Carmel, California, where they painted and goofed off with Uncle George.

This year they arrive tomorrow to attend the “Made in Louisiana” art camp sponsored by the George Rodrigue Foundation of the Arts. Happily, George agreed to surprise the class with some one-on-one instruction periodically over the week.

(pictured, a photo from last week’s camp, “Oaks, Cajuns and Blue Dogs Galore!”)

Our nephews remain through the Fourth of July, my father’s birthday. I just wrote about him too (story here), and well, it’s important that he enjoy his special day with his children and grandchildren. So, my apologies ahead of time, but you may be stuck with a re-post of something ---maybe Texas--- next week.

I’m not dropping off of the map, however, and I hope to see you on twitter, where I’ll break from art camp, museum labels, or the sunshine to post a photo from George's easel, a brief update, or a simple ‘hello.’

(pictured, Looking for Summer Shade, 1973)

And George? Oh he’ll hang out at the pool with us some. But mostly he’s thinking about his art and upcoming shows. Although unconfirmed, we have a fun one in the works for late 2012.

Here’s a teaser… (be sure to click the photo to enlarge...)

Happy Summer!

Wendy

The LSU Museum of Art Rodrigue events include:

7/21 Educator Workshop, Press Preview, Sponsorship Party (contact GRFA for details)

7/22 Members Only Opening (contact LSU MOA for membership information)

7/23 Public Opening, including children’s events, book signings, family painting demonstration with George Rodrigue (contact LSU MOA for reservations)

7/24 Painting demonstration and lecture with George Rodrigue in the Manship Theatre; space limited to 325; book signing following (contact LSU MOA for details)

8/4 Young Professionals Night, sponsored by GRFA and Forum 35; $10 admission

8/19 Musings of an Artist’s Wife (Ladies lunchtime lecture with Wendy Rodrigue, including a private museum tour); Hilton Hotel, $50 per person (Contact LSU MOA for reservations; space is limited). Hope you’ll join me! All proceeds benefit the arts in our state-

8/20 In the Kitchen with Chef Paul Prudhomme and George Rodrigue, followed by a book signing with both (Contact LSU MOA for details)