Visiting Manhattan for the first time in almost ten years, and with plenty of time on my hands, I decided to resist the temptation of the Chelsea galleries and the new Whitney Museum to stop by the Museum of Modern Art. MoMA used to be on the top of my go-see list in years past and I was anxious to reacquaint myself with its collection. It did not disappoint, especially since it was mid-week and not very crowded. Spending a good part of four hours there brought back many memories and enabled me to take my time with some of my pals.

Like Matisse’s “Dance (I)” - still majestic in its simplicity and full of life. It can fool you into thinking it childlike and crude, but that’s why it speaks to us. Pure joy of movement.

And Picasso’s revolutionary and primitive masterpiece, “Les Demoiselles D’Avignon” - a painting still powerful and shockingly confrontational. I recall vividly the first time I came upon it when a young art student. I knew of it - or thought I did - from the art books in the school library, but nothing prepared me for seeing it in person, larger than life.

Speaking of Pablo, I found myself missing the epic presence of Guernica, returned to Spain once it became a republic again following Franco’s death in 1981. That painting, approached from around a corner in the gallery, literally brought me to my knees. Viewing it in 1975 as a fledgling artist, was a huge influence into my decision to move from more commercial art dreams to the fine arts. I hope one day to see it again in its more appropriate home in Madrid.

Thinking of Guernica also brings to mind the brilliant reinterpretation of the Picasso masterpiece by Faith Ringgold, who we lost just this past April. In 1967, at the height of the American Civil Rights struggle (it was painted between the shootings of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, Jr.), Ringgold channeled her rage and pain into an amazingly visceral painting called “The American People Series #20: Die.” This piece is now in the collection at MoMA, but alas, was not on view this trip. It would been poetic to see it in Guernica’s place during my visit.

American People Series #20: Die, 1967 - Faith Ringgold

And now for something completely different…

Here’s an example of why it’s good to look up from your phone while wandering the city. On Park Ave., near the corner of 32nd Street, I happened to catch sight of a curious looking clock jutting out over the sidewalk about 12 feet up. Closer inspection revealed a wizard with a wand or some such thing, waving it over the head of another kneeling figure. Just as we approached it, the clock struck on the hour (magical timing on our part) and, as the wand waved, another female figure slowly rose from a cocoon! Now was time to whip out my phone and delve deeper. Apparently, the clock is the work of the artist William Zorach along with the architectural firm of McKim, Mead & White. It was commissioned by the Schwarzenbach silk company and restored in the 1980’s to working condition. You never know what’s right in front of you…beyond your tiny screen.

And one more thing…

After a bit of a hiatus from publishing any new work, I’ve decided to let my latest work out of the bag and have posted them on my website. It is a series of paintings inspired by my pilgrimage to Iceland last March, a trip that marks an important turning point in my life. Above is an example of the work. Click here to check out others in the series. I’m hoping to find a venue to show them soon, so stay tuned.

Pax vobiscum.