Thursday, October 19, 2006
Steve Wynn Elbows a Picasso
The Las Vegas casino billionaire recently made international headlines after bumping into his painting by Pablo Picasso and putting a hole in it. How pointy must his elbows be to put a hole in the canvas?
He had recently agreed to sell the work for a record $139 million to fellow billionaire Steven Cohen. It would have become the highest price paid for a painting, but Wynn has chose to repair and keep his damaged Picasso painting.
Steve Wynn Damages Picasso Painting With His Elbow
"An aide to Steve Wynn announced that he will keep and restore the painting he accidentally damaged. Steve Wynn uses gestures with his hands while speaking and also has retinitis pigmentosa, so his peripheral vision is affected. There were other masterpieces in the room, one by Renoir ad another by Matisse, but they were not damaged." Art Daily
>> Art Collecting, Pablo Picasso News ¶ 10:29 PM
He had recently agreed to sell the work for a record $139 million to fellow billionaire Steven Cohen. It would have become the highest price paid for a painting, but Wynn has chose to repair and keep his damaged Picasso painting.
Steve Wynn Damages Picasso Painting With His Elbow
"An aide to Steve Wynn announced that he will keep and restore the painting he accidentally damaged. Steve Wynn uses gestures with his hands while speaking and also has retinitis pigmentosa, so his peripheral vision is affected. There were other masterpieces in the room, one by Renoir ad another by Matisse, but they were not damaged." Art Daily
>> Art Collecting, Pablo Picasso News ¶ 10:29 PM
It's a shame really... but shit happens as Nathalie said. Too bad it happened to such a wonderful piece of art.
The issue at hand though is really the value placed on art today. Are pieces like this truly worth what they are being auctioned off/sold for?
The issue at hand though is really the value placed on art today. Are pieces like this truly worth what they are being auctioned off/sold for?
The recent television program on the art of Donald Friend inspired the following prose-poem. this is the 2nd posting here in November 2006.-Ron Price, Tasmania.
___________________________
THANKS TO DONALD FRIEND
People who want to devote their attention to a significant extent more than an average, a casual, number of hours everyday to an art, a craft, a caring role, a garden, a movement, a cause, a job, whatever, need to have as few distractions as possible. By 2006 I found myself, at last, in what was for me this enviable position in relation to my writing. The world did not call constantly at my door and I did not call constantly at its. Full-time, part-time and volunteer work were, at last and for the most part, behind me. I was 62. I found the words and life of Australian artist Donald Friend helpful. When he was 62 he entered the last 20 years of his fertile life.
Some of my writing is intended to please, to impress, others, to be attractive, indeed, to embrace their souls and invite them into a rich and rewarding universe, a place of profound meaning and intellectual pleasure; and some is done only for myself, for my private exploration, to order and enlarge my own experience. The two aims and intentions are not mutually exclusive and there are other aims in writing as well. The blots and blobs, the lines and little shapes, the incidental and purposive, the accidental and planned, aspects of my writing which are incorporated into the execution of my several compositions draw incessantly on, and give flight to, my imagination and my pleasure. Some works, of course, give me more pleasure than others; some seem more imaginatively created. Some parts seem to control me and I seem to control other parts. And there is the inevitable drudgery, dryness and drift.
What was once and for decades connected to my work as a student, an employee or part of one of the many casual and purposive activities of my writing life has now become an obsession with fewer and fewer distractions.-Ron Price with thanks to Lou Klepac,"The Drawings of Donald Friend," Internet Site, 2006.
There is little here
of that clarity
of vision called humour,
although
I try to see my fellows
as they are and not
with some false sentiment.
I am aware of life's incongruities,
of the complexities of behaviour,
its pretensions, its idiosyncrasies,
the prototypes of them in the mass.
Humour is a rare gift, a delight
to the whole spectacle of life.
Sadly I do not seem able to make
it part of my poetry, my essays,
my interviews, my journals
or my notes--I leave it behind
in my daily and regular life.
Ron Price
16 November 2006
______________
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___________________________
THANKS TO DONALD FRIEND
People who want to devote their attention to a significant extent more than an average, a casual, number of hours everyday to an art, a craft, a caring role, a garden, a movement, a cause, a job, whatever, need to have as few distractions as possible. By 2006 I found myself, at last, in what was for me this enviable position in relation to my writing. The world did not call constantly at my door and I did not call constantly at its. Full-time, part-time and volunteer work were, at last and for the most part, behind me. I was 62. I found the words and life of Australian artist Donald Friend helpful. When he was 62 he entered the last 20 years of his fertile life.
Some of my writing is intended to please, to impress, others, to be attractive, indeed, to embrace their souls and invite them into a rich and rewarding universe, a place of profound meaning and intellectual pleasure; and some is done only for myself, for my private exploration, to order and enlarge my own experience. The two aims and intentions are not mutually exclusive and there are other aims in writing as well. The blots and blobs, the lines and little shapes, the incidental and purposive, the accidental and planned, aspects of my writing which are incorporated into the execution of my several compositions draw incessantly on, and give flight to, my imagination and my pleasure. Some works, of course, give me more pleasure than others; some seem more imaginatively created. Some parts seem to control me and I seem to control other parts. And there is the inevitable drudgery, dryness and drift.
What was once and for decades connected to my work as a student, an employee or part of one of the many casual and purposive activities of my writing life has now become an obsession with fewer and fewer distractions.-Ron Price with thanks to Lou Klepac,"The Drawings of Donald Friend," Internet Site, 2006.
There is little here
of that clarity
of vision called humour,
although
I try to see my fellows
as they are and not
with some false sentiment.
I am aware of life's incongruities,
of the complexities of behaviour,
its pretensions, its idiosyncrasies,
the prototypes of them in the mass.
Humour is a rare gift, a delight
to the whole spectacle of life.
Sadly I do not seem able to make
it part of my poetry, my essays,
my interviews, my journals
or my notes--I leave it behind
in my daily and regular life.
Ron Price
16 November 2006
______________
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