The Phillips Collection engages with local voices by asking community members to write labels in response to works in the collection. Read some here on the blog and also in the galleries of Seeing Differently: The Phillips Collects for a New Century. What would you write about these artworks?

Longer tables and shorter walls is the only way forward. Tables where are all welcome. And together we can all dream of a horizon of hope where we support others and they one day may support us.
― José Andrés, Chef/Owner of ThinkFoodGroup and Founder of World Central Kitchen

As I look at this painting I’ll admit that I am drawn to the terrier on the table as I know full well that my own terrier, Charlie, would be in the same spot! His surroundings certainly reinforce how much we all long for the days ahead when we can gather around the table again, sharing stories and meals with loved ones and new friends. There can never be too many opportunities to share our human experiences, especially when it’s over a meal.
―Aaron Silverman, Michelin Star Chef/Owner of Rose’s Luxury, Pineapple & Pearls and Little Pearl

Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Luncheon of the Boating Party, 1880-81 Oil on Canvas, 51 ¼ x 69 ¼ in., The Phillips Collection, Acquired 1923

When I was a child, my grandfather lived close by to the Renoir museum that was previously the artist’s house. I went there many times and discovered the Renoir universe. His paintings bring back for me many happy memories from my childhood. The scene in this painting is about conviviality around a meal. Despite what looks like a simple meal with a casual ambiance, there is a certain sophistication to the scene because of how the women are dressed and the elegant stances of the men. This painting is a good reminder of how food brings people together, not only nourishing the body, but also the soul. This snapshot of a weekend moment is unique because of the talent of Renoir, and it is recognizable in his signature style portraying both a romantic flare and simple joy.
―Eric Ripert, Michelin Star Chef and Co-Owner of Le Bernardin, New York

I wish I could go into a time machine and go back to that time and attend as a guest or better yet to cook for the luncheon in an 1880s kitchen. It evokes such emotions of happiness, joie de vivre, which I think we could all use right now.
―Jean-Georges Vongerichten, International Award Winning Chef and Founder of Food Dreams

Artist Shelley Lowenstein of the Otis Street Arts Project reflects on the workshop she led: WIRED: Line Drawing in Space.

What a year! How can I bring joy into a world turned upside down?

That was my first thought when our studio (Otis Street Arts Project) was asked to create a series of hands-on zoom art classes for The Phillips Collection. I reluctantly volunteered even though I don’t enjoy public speaking. Why not? I asked my inner voices. If not now during a pandemic, then when? Growth. Face your fears and do it anyway.

For some time, I had been weaving with wire, and I decided to share my endless enthusiasm for Alexander Calder while creating Calder-inspired wire portraits with the Zoom participants. It was easy to be enthusiastic about this artist. I fell in love with Calder as a child. I was so amused by his toy figures and hanging portraits. I was not alone: “My fan mail is enormous; everyone is under six,” explained Calder. He believed that “above all, art should be fun.” And what better way to create a relaxed, inclusive few Zoom hours than by focusing on the joyful Calder and his brilliant work. And so, we began to work with the wire while learning more about the man.

Drawing with wire during the online workshop

Alexander Calder, known as Sandy, was a playful genius. He became one of the most beloved American sculptors of the 20th century. Only recently, the Museum of Modern Art in New York City opened a new exhibit about him. From the review in the New York Times: “The Modern has welcomed Calder back with a beauty of a show that, over the next several months, will make the world a better place.” Calder once said, “I think best in wire.” He was a big man with large strong hands, perfect for bending wire. And he loved to laugh, seeing humor in the world.

After college, he went to Paris to become an artist. He rode a bright orange bicycle around town, with a large spool of wire over his shoulder. He’d studio hop, visiting his famous artist friends to see what they were doing. And often, he would create a portrait likeness of these celebrities, sometimes on the spot, by bending wire—Joan Miró, Josephine Baker, Fernand Léger, Edgard Varèse, and many more. He called himself an “illumination engineer” because the shadow cast by the wire was as important as the portrait itself. Simply put, he was contour drawing in space.

It was on a visit to the studio of Piet Mondrian that his world changed. Studying Mondrian’s geometric paintings of red, blue, and yellow shapes, Calder’s mind turned to the idea of “kinetic art.” What if those big shapes of color could actually move? What if I can draw in space? And that “spark” evolved into the invention of the mobile.

Drawing with wire during the online workshop

Via Zoom, the participants and I began to bend, twist, and curl wire. We made circles and squares. We made hearts and zig zags. We learned different ways to join wire. I recommended using 18-20 gauge wire because it’s easier to bend than what Calder actually used. Basic tools included flat-head pliers, needle-nose pliers, and wire cutters.

In no time, some 54 participants were getting comfortable with the materials. We examined a number of Calder portraits, how he elegantly joined wire connections, how he created various shapes, and how he created simple contour drawings―just the simple outline of the features of a face. No shading. No color. No value. Calder’s genius―he emphasized only the prominent features, not the detail, because our mind can fill in the blanks.

And soon, to the amazement of the Zoom participants, we were making three-dimensional portraits. There was joy in the air on that Zoom. Participants were chatty, asking questions, sharing their work, laughing. We were “playing” with art, as Calder had advised. And the feedback was heartwarming. Above all, art should be fun.

Artist Lisa Rosenstein of the Otis Street Arts Project reflects on the hands-on workshop she led: The Head as a Vessel.

When the pandemic began in March of 2020 it was as if I’d tripped and fallen down the stairs into a very, very dark hole. Never mind that my home is filled with light and I want for nothing, I was even fortunate enough to have the company of my daughter who’d moved home temporarily. Still, I felt helpless and that perceived lack of control led to a time of darkness and reflection while solidifying my belief that we are all part of one big seething organism. It was a shocking and disorienting time to be without access to my studio and my practice of non-verbal processing.

Once the shock wore off, I came to realize that being sequestered in a sheltered space with few distractions created an environment of vast possibilities. One possibility presented itself to me on a Sunday as I was reading the newspaper (hard copy, believe it or not!). The articles and accompanying images were deeply distressing as usual.  I read on, my reaction turning from grief to anger to physically tearing the paper, crushing, squeezing, and twisting it until suddenly I was holding a misshapen bowl.

First bowl, April 2020. Photo by Lisa Rosenstein

Holding that physical object in my hands opened me up and I felt a subtle lifting of my spirit.

From that moment on and for the next six months I continued the bowl making process, even incorporating some older newspaper articles (having always been a collector of words and images). It was my way of being present in this moment of history that included the pandemic, the continuing horror of police brutality toward people of color, and of course our destructively dysfunctional governmental head. The bowls proliferated filling every surface of my home like a field of emotional mushrooms. At least until my daughter suggested I just pile them up one inside the other. This daily ritual became a time of integration, my awareness expanded even as my physical space had contracted.

Bowls Grow Like Mushrooms, April 2020-October 2020. Photo by Lisa Rosenstein

The process of making the bowls is uncomplicated:

1. Read the newspaper until an image or a set of words sets off an emotion or deeper thought.
2. Get a plastic mixing bowl, any size. I prefer the smaller ones; they are more intimate.
3. press the newspaper into the bowl and add water, continue pressing until you have an image you like. finish the edges as you please. squeeze out excess water.
4. Place the finished bowl into a sunny spot or near a heating vent in your home.
5. Once the bowl is dry remove it from its mold
6. The bowl is complete and will hold its shape though it has no binders and will eventually decay.

The simplicity of the process was perfect and I was thankful to have a meaningful idea ready for the Phillips Hands On Workshop program.

Making bowls during the online workshop

The Head as a Vessel workshop emphasized our minds as places of introspection, change, and growth and it was my intention that the Zoom workshop be a symbolic safe space for the participants to share their thoughts and feelings through the act of art-making.

I led the participants in the making of four bowls. The final two bowls were the most meaningful. The first, what I called the pandemic bowl, was focused on what the participants had been living through and feeling since the pandemic had begun. The other I named the future bowl and asked the participants to think about what they wanted for the future. I had two pre-made bowls at hand and invited people to call out words pertaining to each topic. I inscribed these words into the appropriate bowl. Once this exercise was complete, I filled the future bowl with soil and crocus bulbs. As a finale the pandemic bowl was set on fire and burned to ash. It was a satisfying and cathartic moment.

We are all living through a complex historic time. Humanity is a collective organism and what each one of us does affects the other in a never-ending circle. We can choose to stay in the dark or grow to the light.

In February 2021 the bowl of the future blossomed.

Bowl of the future, February 2021. Photo by Lisa Rosenstein