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Dream-Swept Impressions

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At Whistler to Cassatt: American Painters In France, on display now at the VMFA, viewers see American artists explore history through an expatriate’s eye and move through the artistic evolution from tonalism to impressionism’s attempt to capture life as it happens. RVA Mag’s S. Preston Duncan explains.

In the beginning, art is exact, moral, exaltant. It’s human, but human in its drive for perfection, for purity. It is a dream for humanity rather than the current of its dreams. The epic poem and the symphony — an offering of virtuosity. All trumpets and no jazz. And it’s brilliant. This is the oil and hue of a breathtaking academia, reaching its peak just as the emerging artists of the era began pulling in a different, less perfect but more perennially true direction. The VMFA’s Whistler to Cassatt: American Painters in France exhibit chronicles this shifting epoch with immersive accessibility. 

Most of these artists didn’t make the pop culture collective memory A list — the Midnight in Paris cut. But they aren’t exactly hidden behind history, either. Every piece in the retrospectively gentle stylistic evolution from tonalism to impressionism explored throughout the exhibit is a work of mastery and vision. It’s the particularities of the vision that set them apart from one another. And tie them together. 

Monuments take many forms. Sculptural, psychological, emotional. We humans are in the monument-making business. We each build our own according to the medium of our lives. But all monuments, whatever their form, are the artform of idealism. The exhibit opens in 1882, and the paintings are monumental. Frank Myers Boggs’  masterpiece, La place de la Bastille en 1882, serves as a kind of singular expression of the journey to come. Its fusion of impressionism and tonalism encapsulates both a rebellion from, and reverence toward, the Academie des Beaux-Arts — the authoritative institution of artistic excellence in France until 1863, when Napoleon III withdrew governmental control of the school, renaming it L’Ecole des Beaux-Arts. 

Previous academic attitudes that favored the allegorical over the experiential and exactitude over expression were being called into question by the end of the 19th century. The narrow spectrum of portraiture, historical representation, and religiosity were abandoned in favor of impressionism’s perennial endeavor to capture life as we know it to be, with all its imperfections. Where before French artists hid their hand with carefully blended colors and soft strokes, the impressionists sought to capture the movement of both light and artist in their richly contrasting, brightly dream-swept compositions. 

The exhibit pulls back before charging forward into the (quite literal) new school of painting. The muted colors and richly detailed realism of Henry Mosler’s biblical Le Retour (1879) exemplify the old guard with all its institutional wonder. 

While debates around what constitutes art generally draw more pretension than consensus, few are those who would argue that art can exist without experimentation. As we move forward into a staggering collection of individual innovation under the collective movement that would become known as impressionism, an experimental spirit emerges. And it’s one that will alter the course of art history to this day. From Dennis Miller Bunker’s Wild Asters with its living waters, to Mary Cassatt’s iconically vivid yet hauntingly soft portraiture, Whistler to Cassatt accelerates through the stylistic evolution of artistic intelligence that categorized one of the most significant eras in painting. It’s a true wonder to stand in the presence of not just these pieces, but the narrative behind them. That narrative is a kind of blossoming that opens artistic focus, from a prescribed vision of human potential to a lucid dream of human reality.

Whistler to Cassatt builds on the photographic narrative that comprised the Man Ray exhibit that previously inhabited the space. That chronology makes these experiences educational in an internalized, experiential sense — you don’t need to be an art historian to enjoy this. It’ll teach you. It’ll tell you a story. It’s a story I didn’t know until I walked through it. 

Whistler to Cassatt: American Painters In France is on display at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts through Sunday, July 31. Tickets are $16 for adults, $12 for seniors 65+, $10 for youth and students with ID. Order tickets at VMFA’s website.

Top Image: Sunlight (detail), 1909, Frank Weston Benson (American, 1862–1951), oil on canvas. Indianapolis Museum of Art at Newfields, John Herron Fund, 11.1. © The Frank W. Benson Trust

The View From Paris

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With Man Ray: The Paris Years, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts gives us an up-close look at the center of the art world a century ago — post-pandemic, between world wars — through the eyes of brilliant photography pioneer Man Ray.

People emerge from the cultural sleep of a pandemic, their faces deepened, the world uneasily different. The visions brought on by our collective fever dream find both form and urgency of expression. This is Virginia in 2021. It was also Paris in 1921, in the aftermath of the Spanish Influenza.

Self-Portrait with Camera, 1930, Man Ray (American, 1890–1976), solarized gelatin silver print. The Jewish Museum, New York, Photography Acquisitions Committee Fund, Horace W. Goldsmith Fund, and Judith and Jack Stern Gift, 2004-16 © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

The VMFA’s Man Ray: The Paris Years exhibit begins with a step through a curtain and the hundred-year veil between that roaring decade and today. The show boasts 106 photographs curated by the museum’s Chief Curator, Dr. Michael Taylor. Originally slated for an indeterminate future date, the exhibit was placed on a more defined schedule during the three months in which the VMFA was closed due to Covid-19.

Elsie Houston, 1933, Man Ray (American, 1890–1976), gelatin silver print. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Arthur and Margaret Glasgow Endowment, 2018.364 © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

“I was actually able to write this catalog and do it while I was at home, and we were trying to do the budget and deal with everything going on. It was actually a joy,” says Taylor. “I’d done the research, I’d been into the Getty, I’d read all of Man Ray’s diaries and letters. I’d actually not negotiated a lot of the loans, because at that time we thought it was a smaller show. But I knew through my network of friends and colleagues that they would step up, and they would agree. The Getty, for example, lent eight photographs. They never lend eight photographs. But everyone understood this was a show to support.”

Impressive as it may be for a museum to assemble a show of this scope in such a short time frame, the narrative in which the pieces are employed is an astonishing work of art in itself. “The story of Man Ray and Paris has been told, but it’s usually been told through the lens – pardon the pun, it’s a photography show – of Man Ray’s innovations; the Rayograph, Solarization, his friendships, and his network. But what about the subjects?” says Taylor. “We took inspiration from the photograph on the cover of this show. It’s the first work you see in the exhibition. This is actually Man Ray taking your portrait. In other words, […] even though it’s called a self-portrait, a camera is photographing him, but he is looking at you with his camera. So we started to think about not just telling Man Ray’s story, which is fascinating, but the story of the sitters, the subjects, the models.”

Gertrude Stein (at Home), 1922, Man Ray (American, 1890–1976), gelatin silver print. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Arthur and Margaret Glasgow Endowment, 2020.5 © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

Behind the curtain is a Paris of lore. Not the boulevards and cafes, but the personalities that defined a generation of artistic expression, and shaped the future of art and literature itself. Gelatin silver prints of Gertrude Stein’s hard literary eyes. Edna St. Vincent Millay’s sorrow and optimism. Hemingway’s stubborn boyhood in a ridiculous felt hat. William Carlos Williams staring ambitiously at death. Jean Cocteau seated under the weight of his own visions in a three piece suit. 

Ernest Hemingway, 1928, Man Ray (American, 1890–1976), gelatin silver print. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, NPG.77.130 © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

A standout portrait of Proust on his deathbed breaks the extravagant momentum. Presented in shadowbox, the photograph is ethereal, made more of deep, soft-edged shadow and light than likeness. There is a sense of falling into this image and not being able to leave – as if it is a portrait of death itself.

As the show winds through the two decades between the end of the pandemic and the start of World War II, each portrait is presented with a biographical paragraph in both English and Spanish — a first for the VMFA, and part of a larger effort to bring inclusivity and accessibility to the museum experience. These exhaustively researched labels succinctly thread the personal narratives of the subjects through that of Man Ray and the artistic movements of 1920s and 30s Paris. Much of the credit for the chronologies that inform these plaques – and therefore the continuity of the show – belongs to Madeleine Dugan, an  undergraduate student at VCU who worked beside Taylor throughout the curatorial process.

Wallis Simpson with Chinese Sculpture, 1936, Man Ray (American, 1890– 1976), gelatin silver print. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Arthur and Margaret Glasgow Endowment, 2021.74 © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

While the primary focus of the exhibit is on portraiture and the radical expressiveness of his subjects – from the vanguards of femme moderne culture to aerialists in drag –  there are some detours into avant-garde Rayography and cinema. This diversity of expression is resonant with Man Ray’s professional dedication to dismantling boundaries – those of gender, race, and national identity, as well as artistic traditionalism and aesthetic philosophy. 

There is absurdity in this exhibit, to be sure. Not absurdity for the sake of absurdity, but to reach for the solid core of truth and meaning at the center of confusion. A sudden lurch toward the ungraspable inertia of existing as individuals in a world of automobiles and neckties; sunsets and trapezes; painters, poets, and photographers like Man Ray; spurred by the vague notion that behind it all, there’s some mysterious order at work. Or at least a larger joke between the cosmos.

Kiki de Montparnasse, ca. 1924, Man Ray (American, 1890–1976), gelatin silver print. Francis M. Naumann Fine Art, New York © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

Man Ray’s photography doesn’t simply capture the image of a person, or the ghost that inhabits them. It captures the whole of creative expression – the surreal and sorrowful, the conflict and music, the desperation and freedom that comprise the human narrative. It is through this aperture that we find the abiding sense that, in all the weight, the struggle, the limitations of our physical form, is an ongoing moment of release. It confronts us with the fact we are all winging this strange dance, contributing our solitary note to an overture that is entirely improvised, sharing in the simple hope that we may, for an instant, hear the enormity of the score.

Berenice Abbott, 1921, printed later, Man Ray (American, 1890–1976), gelatin silver print. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Arthur and Margaret Glasgow Endowment, 2019.53 © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021

Man Ray: The Paris Years is currently on display at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, and will remain on display through February 21, 2022. Admission is $16 for adults (cheaper for students and senior citizens, free for VMFA members). Tickets can be purchased at the VMFA’s website.

Top Photo: Ruby Richards with Diamonds, ca. 1938, Man Ray (American, 1890– 1976), gelatin silver print. Collection of Michael and Jacky Ferro, Miami © Man Ray 2015 Trust/Artists Rights Society (ARS), NY/ADAGP, Paris 2021 

Composing Nature: Ansel Adams at VMFA

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Pioneering American photographer Ansel Adams may be remembered today mainly for his prints on waiting room walls, but his work was crucial not just in establishing the way landscapes are photographed but in aiding conservation efforts across the USA. See a career-spanning exhibition of his work this month at VMFA.

Ansel Adams: you may know him from your coffee mug, the calendar in your cubicle, or the motivational print that once adorned the office wall of your school principal or dentist. No landscape photographer is as emblematic to the genre as Ansel Adams. His work encapsulates the chaos and majesty of the natural world. His life, which spanned most of the 20th century and took him through most of this country, was a dedication to pioneering photography and wildlife conservation. 

“Ansel Adams: Compositions in Nature,” a 70-photograph exhibit featuring many selected and printed by Adams himself, is a new exhibit at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts that surveys the work and motivations of the prolific photographer.

“[Adams] is not just this photographer of the grand vistas that may end up on a mug or a calendar,” said Dr. Christopher Oliver, curator for the show. “He’s an amazingly precise technical photographer who’s interested in what I often call ‘really concentrated hard-looking’… A lot of photography is just that.”

The exhibit explores three main occupations of Adams’s life: technical photographer, musician, and landscape conservationist.

“The perception of the American West, in particular, is shaped through the work of Ansel Adams,” Oliver said. “There are few artists whose name and works represent the extraordinary level of universal recognition and artistic achievement as that of Ansel Adams.”

Mount Williamson, Sierra Nevada, from Manzanar, California, 1944, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–
1984), gelatin silver print, printed 1973–1975. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Adolph D. and
Wilkins C. Williams Fund, 75.29.2. Photograph by Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing
Rights Trust.

Ansel Adams is “revered as one of the greatest photographers of our time,” said Alex Nyerges, director and CEO of the VMFA, during a media preview of the exhibit.

Born in 1902, Adams grew up near San Francisco, California. His family took regular trips to Yosemite National Park, where he took his first photographs with a Kodak Brownie camera. Fixated on becoming a pianist, the young Adams saw photography as little more than a hobby. 

Adams spent his youth as the photographer for the Sierra Club. He regularly published photographs and writings in their bulletin, tended to their lodges, and eventually sat on their board of directors. 

His work quickly made an impact on the public, which fueled an interest in protecting these lands. The exhibit features a demonstrative series from this time in Adams’s life; his first portfolio, Parmelian Prints of the High Sierras, is a compilation of his best work from this period. 

“His prints especially in the postwar period, in the late ’40s and ’50s, became so much about celebrating the American landscape that they appeared in fine art museums and in very popular books,” Oliver said. “We’re now several generations deep of people thinking of Yosemite through the lens of Ansel, in so many ways.”

Placards throughout the exhibit explained that from a young age onward, Adams was primarily motivated by his love for the wilderness. Everything he did in his career was in some meditation or reflection on retaining our ecosystems. 

“It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment,” Adams once said. 

The exhibition features 47 of Adam’s “museum set,” those he dubbed as his favorite works, which the museum rented from the Turtle Bay Foundation. And while the exhibit features some of Adams’ portrait and lifestyle photography, the exhibit’s main focus is around his work as a conservationist. Adams believed the camera to be the best medium at the time to influence government officials and sway the public. 

Dogwood Blossoms, Yosemite Valley, 1938, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–1984), gelatin silver print, printed
1960. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Bernard J. Sabaroff, 85.1538. Photograph by
Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

On the coattails of his prior portfolio, Adams traveled the country for the likes of not instagram but magazines and the U.S. government, photographing many national parks.

From misty moraines along the Tetons and the greening gorges of Yosemite to the pits of Death Valley, Adams lassoed the “elusive quality of nature” into every frame. He captured breathtaking scenes of wild Alaska, the Big Sur coast of central California, the mighty redwoods, the moonrise over Hernandez, New Mexico, and the Half Dome. He even photographed the Golden Gate — before the bridge. 

He wielded his camera like a lance, dueling developers over the symptoms of “resortism,” such as encroaching highways, overbuilt billboards, privatized park services, and concessions by the U.S. government to private enterprise. 

And today, many argue, much of America’s wilderness and the protections that still stand remain as a result of Adams and his camera. 

In 1936, the Sierra Club sent Adams to Washington, D.C., to lobby for a bill before Congress that would create the Kings Canyon National Park. He lugged his portfolios from the Senate to House, meeting with more than 40 members of Congress, telling his story and sharing his photographs. While the bill failed, Adams did not. His photographs were sent to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who established the park the following year, putting half a million acres into wildlife protection. 

“Most people have the idea that there is nothing you can do with a camera in Yosemite except take another postcard snapshot,” Adams said shortly after. “I remind workshop participants that the national parks provide an experience, a mood, an incredible subject for the camera.”

Adams often compared photography to orchestra. He overlooked the ensemble of mountaintops, dunes, and forests, and thought of symphonies. The chaos of nature, he found, had a rhythm.

“I can look at a fine photograph and sometimes I can hear music, not in a sentimental sense, but structurally,” Adams once said. 

Visitors to “Compositions In Nature” will hear some of Adams’s own musical recordings — Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata, Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Arioso,” and Alexander Scriabin’s “Prelude” — as they walk through the exhibit.  

Sand Dunes, Sunrise, Death Valley National Monument, CA, 1948, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–1984),
gelatin silver print, printed 1974. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Andrea Gray Stillman,
2018.584. Photograph by Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

Likewise, Adams carried his musical understanding into his photographic work, where he strove for a sharper focus, deeper tone, and more contrast. As his career progressed, Adams reveled in the theory and practice of the camera. He coined many of the systems digital photographers today take for granted, such as the zone system, a theory used to properly expose photos in nearly any situation.

He produced ten volumes of technical manuals on photography, including The Camera and Basic Techniques of Photography, which are the most influential books ever written on the subject. Within his lifetime he played a key role in establishing the first museum department of photography, at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. 

“In a career that spanned more than five decades, Adams became one of America’s most recognized and influential landscape photographers and one of its more respected environmentalists,” Nyerges said. “His works continue to inspire us to take a deeper, even meditative, look at our extraordinary natural surroundings and appreciate the profound beauty around us.”

Above all, Adams believed a photo was only as strong as the emotion it wrought. He came to find, in a career that spanned a century and a country, that the camera is a dangerous weapon, capable of moving mountains — but also saving them. 

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed,” Adams once said. 

The exhibition will be on view at the VMFA from September 25, 2021, through January 2, 2022. Tickets are $10 adults; $8 for seniors, youths age 7-17 and college students with ID; free for VMFA members. They can be ordered at the VMFA website.

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Top Image: Half Dome, Cottonwood Trees, Yosemite, California, 1935, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–1984),
gelatin silver print, printed 1979. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Andrea Gray Stillman,
2018.586. Photograph by Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

An End Of An Era

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This morning, over 130 years after it was installed, the Commonwealth of Virginia finally removed the statue of Confederate general Robert E. Lee from Monument Avenue. RVA Mag’s John Donegan and Branden Wilson were on hand to see history being made.

Robert E. Lee, former commander of the Confederacy, awoke atop his bronze horse today to clamoring construction workers, whomping gasoline generators, and a lifting hook dangling over his head.

Since its placement in 1890, the statue of Lee has overlooked the city from the center of Richmond’s famed Monument Avenue traffic circle. Just before 9 am this morning, though, the statue was lowered onto a flatbed truck, after a construction worker who strapped harnesses around Lee and his horse cheered on the crowd from atop his cherry picker, and led the countdown: “Three, two, one!” The operation to remove the statue lasted maybe 50 minutes. 

“I think it’s long overdue,” said Charles Otey, 67, a hospital worker at Virginia Medical Center. “What I’m so proud of is the young black kids and young white kids who came together to make this happen.”

The removal of the Lee statue marked the end of an era of Confederate monuments in a city that is arguably infamous for them. Monument Avenue, the wide boulevard that housed the most notable of the controversial statues, was long a proud feature of the city, and an international tourist site. Defenders of the monument today continue to celebrate the statue, and attest that Lee was not just a native Virginian but a Civil War hero. The majority, though, see it as a monument glorifying slavery.

The emotions surrounding the removal today were the culmination of innumerable protests to remove the statues, driven by thousands of Americans who were ready to see them gone.

“From what I’ve seen, kids nowadays just want to smoke weed, make love and get money,” Otey said as the surrounding crowd cheered. “But I think the world has changed. It’s more diverse. So we don’t want or need something that celebrates slavery and oppression. Our kids have made this happen, because of George Floyd. I love this, man. I mean, just listen to this.”

Those in the crowd — hundreds clustered in pockets around a multi-block perimeter — let out jubilant shouts and occasional chants. After the statue was placed on the flatbed, the crew then began sawing it in half, along the general’s waistline, to ease the transportation process. 

The removal of Lee’s statue, one of the largest and most recognizable Confederate statues in the country, was expected to draw a large crowd. And though the removal didn’t begin until 8 am, some viewers showed up as early as 3:00 this morning. 

D.C. resident Tim Smith arrived at the avenue around 3:20 am. Throughout the course of the day, he penciled in a collage depicting scenes from Richmond’s history, from its burning by fleeing Confederate troops to iconic images from last year’s protests. He’s been chronicling events like this since 2017. He’s unsure what he’ll do with the latest piece once he’s finished.

“It’s a great day,” Smith said. “I’m from Gettysburg, PA, so it’s cathartic to see this.”

At 8:09 a.m., police opened a single gate into the viewing area. People politely rushed through the gate, some jogging with camera equipment or signs. Others sat back and photographed the rush. Richmond resident Chris Damon, who co-founded the local nonprofit Good Day RVA, filmed the event on a Super 8mm Camera. 

“I’ve been filming the protests since the pandemic era on my Super 8, and I feel like today is ‘Monumentally Important,’” Damon joked. “This is probably one of the most photographed spaces in the state, if not the country.” 

Damon said he’s filmed three cartridges — about 10 minutes of footage — since he began attending local protests in May 2020. 

“I was trying to bounce between being conscious of who I am as a white man, in filming, but also feel it’s necessary to capture something as well… vignettes of our city and our people,” Damon said. “It’s also beautiful to see how this space has been reclaimed.” 

Onlookers gathered behind the perimeter fence line to watch the removal. Many came to see the work of the past year through, and bid farewell to a statue that long stood as a symbol of racial injustice. Within the core of the crowd, speakers shared their reflections on the day. 

“When this statue was erected in the earlier part of the last century, right after Birth of a Nation, it instilled fear and asserted white supremacy — the supremacy of the white man — in every aspect of white culture,” said Muhammad, a Church Hill resident. “Today we’re still suffering from mass incarceration and segregation by redlining in our schools and neighborhoods.”

The two-ton statue was transported to the Virginia’s Goochland Women’s Correctional Center for temporary storage, until officials decide what to do with it, according to Dena Potter, a spokesperson for the state’s Department of General Services. Potter added that Governor Ralph Northam’s office would seek public input on the statue’s future. 

Northam ordered for the statue to be removed in June 2020, after the killing of black Americans such as George Floyd and Richmond resident Marcus-David Peters by police, which triggered nationwide protests over police brutality and racism.

“Virginia’s largest monument to the Confederate insurrection will come down this week,” Northam said in a statement Monday. “This is an important step in showing who we are and what we value as a commonwealth.”

The removal of the statue was impeded for over a year by lawsuits filed by a group of residents with property along Monument Ave, along with William Gregory, a descendant of signatories to a deed that promised the state’s protection.

“On behalf of all the Black men who have suffered in Richmond, I’d like to thank Governor Northam for having the balls to bring this thing down,” Muhammad said. “He stayed the course.”

The Supreme Court of Virginia ruled last week to deny protections sought in the two lawsuits challenging the statue’s removal. The count was unanimous. 

“Democracy is inherently dynamic,” Justice S. Bernard Goodwyn opined in the ruling​​. “Values change and public policy changes, too. The Government of the Commonwealth is entitled to select the views that it supports and the values that it wants to express.”

“Every vestige of white supremacy has to be removed,” Muhammad said. “We can enter a new renaissance in Virginia, a new mainstream where Richmond is a real, consistent democracy.”

Over 160 Confederate symbols — more than a dozen in Richmond alone — were renamed or removed from public spaces in 2020, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. The Lee statue was the first of five Confederate monuments erected on the avenue. 

Against Lee’s wishes, the statue was erected in his honor, towards a legacy he wished abandoned: southern white citizenry which perceived themselves as paragons who simply fought for heritage, against an overwhelming northern force. Despite exhaustive “Lost Cause”-based efforts to revise its record, history has made clear that the cause of the Confederacy was dependent on slavery and subjugation. 

“Richmond is no longer the capital of the confederacy,” Richmond Mayor Levar Stoney said in a statement Monday. “We are a diverse, open, and welcoming city, and our symbols need to reflect this reality.” 

While many celebrated the day, others were quick to point out that systemic issues continue throughout the city. Many reckoned with the notion that the statue’s removal was nothing more than superficial change to satiate the masses. 

“I think it doesn’t mean much unless there’s a radical change to the structure of Richmond,” said one Monument Avenue resident, who preferred anonymity. “They should improve social services and the lives of marginalized folks who live around here. [Lee] is a symbol of white supremacy, [the statue] shouldn’t exist. But also look at all the people trying to protect it right now — [like the] cops who, on a daily basis, oppress the folks protesting to get this taken down.”

“We’ll see how this goes, but it feels to me like a play to make sure that folks are sated,” she added. “It’s a step, but if they don’t turn [the monument] into a community space, it doesn’t mean much.”

Whether out of pride, shame, or metallurgy, Lee’s statue continued staring straight ahead, even as he was strapped to a flatbed and split down the middle. 

Crews will return Thursday to remove plaques from the monument base and replace a time capsule containing Confederate memorabilia.

State officials said they will leave the 40-foot granite pedestal in place for now, adding that the city of Richmond and the Virginia Department of Fine Arts will work to “reimagine Monument Avenue,” according to a statement released earlier today by Governor Northam’s office. Last December, Northam earmarked $11 million for redesigning the avenue, with the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts at the creative helm.

“For too long, Richmond’s Monument Avenue told an incomplete and inaccurate story of the city and Virginia’s past,” said Alex Nyerges, Director and CEO of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. “The funding to transform Monument Avenue will allow us to re-envision an inspirational, forward thinking, inclusive, and healing place for everyone who lives in and visits our city and state.”

As for the pedestal itself, some racial justice advocates don’t want it removed, seeing the graffiti-covered base as a symbol of the protest movement that emerged in the city, and proof that the public can instigate some change. A group of VCU students joked that they should erect a statue of Young Jeezy or, more seriously, Harriet Tubman. One woman mentioned the late Alex Trebek. Most offered names of Virginia natives. 

“They should build another monument, but make it one that is all inclusive and tells a story about everything and represents everybody,” Otey said. “It ain’t just about Black and white. I mean, look at Afghanistan and Mexico. Get a picture of everybody pointing up to the sky. Either way, all I want is peace and happiness.”

Photos by Branden Wilson

Spring Awakening: A Vision for Richmond’s Post-Pandemic Renaissance

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What’s the mood out there, Richmond? Excited? Anxious? Relieved? 

It’s been two weeks since Virginia ended its universal indoor mask mandate in accordance with new guidance from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC). All distancing and capacity restrictions have been eased as well, thanks to the state’s increasing vaccination rates and declining COVID-19 cases. The announcement feels like a major step in returning to life before a global pandemic rocked our world. 

For some, the announcement couldn’t come soon enough. But for others, the abrupt change feels strange and disorienting. It’s understandable. After a year in lockdown, we’ve gotten used to the stagnation of everyday life. Some researchers suggest our brains have been rewired, precipitating a mental health crisis (Source: The Guardian). From coping with the loss of everyday normalcy to the stress of trying to stay safe (and sane), COVID has affected all of us in varying degrees – physically, mentally, and socially. 

The latest statistics suggest our Groundhog Day existence may be coming to an end – at least for the time being. Virginia has administered over 8 million vaccines with over 68% of statewide adults having received at least one dose (Source: Virginia Department of Health). According to the Governor of Virginia’s website, we’re on track to meet President Biden’s goal of having 70% of adults vaccinated with at least one dose by July 4th.

This is all good news. With each day, our official reentry into society feels more real. It’s becoming more visible too. People are venturing outside, events are transitioning to in person, and our days of interacting solely on Zoom seem to be waning. 

As someone who recently joined the ranks of the fully vaccinated, I’ve easily seen more people and done more activities in the last month than I have in the last fifteen. And while I’m not necessarily seeking opportunities to shake hands or gather indoors with large crowds, it’s beginning to feel… not really normal, just a little less abnormal. Because let’s face it, after all we’ve been through, who can define what “normal” is anymore. 

As more people become vaccinated, Richmonders are venturing out to take advantage of the warm weather and in-person activities. Photo by EVERGIB / Brian Gibson.

This past year, we experienced nearly 600,000 COVID-related deaths in our country, the worst global economic crisis since the Great Depression, a racial reckoning after the killing of George Floyd, a rise in hate crimes against Asian Americans, an insurrection on the U.S. Capitol, and the deadliest gun violence in decades. That’s only what made the headlines and doesn’t take into account any personal struggles we dealt with – the repercussions of which may take years to reconcile.

While we might finally be getting on the other side of this pandemic, the challenges we face as a country, community, and as individuals are still present. It’s a sober reality that’s enough to make even the most optimistic person retreat back into isolation.

Yet at some point, we must emerge and start living life again – fully, emphatically, and with hope that things can, and will, be better. 

If there’s anything we’ve learned from this ordeal, it’s that life has to be more than merely existing. It can’t be all work and no play – or in many cases, no work and no play. We need to have experiences that enrich and inspire us; that expose us to different people and perspectives and that, quite simply, make us feel alive. 

More than anything, we need each other. Studies in biology, neuroscience, and psychology all show that humans are inherently social creatures. Whether extroverted, introverted, or somewhere in between, we are wired to connect. In addition to offering a sense of belonging, our interaction with one another is conducive to our overall enjoyment of life. 

Connection doesn’t always require conversation. Merely being in the presence of others fosters camaraderie that’s necessary for our well-being. It’s why listening to live music, surrounded by people who are fully engaged in the moment, makes us feel amazing. In fact, any shared experience – from eating out to dancing the night away – provides social support that quite literally, helps us live longer (Source: National Library of Medicine).

In the West, particularly in the United States, we tend to overlook the importance of communal connection in our lives. In other words, we don’t always recognize, much less value, the role that people play in our happiness. We may even deny our dependence on others, but it’s as fundamental to our survival as food and water. (Source: Scientific American)

I believe acknowledging, and honoring, this insight is key to our reintegration into society. If we intrinsically need people in our life, then it’s vital we cultivate opportunities that bring us together, naturally and effortlessly. Experiences that remind us that the best moments are often those made with others – friends, family, and yes, even strangers. 

Local jazz & sound artist Victor Haskins performs at the Fan Arts Stroll earlier this spring with bassist Randall Pharr and drummer Tony Martucci. Photo by EVERGIB / Brian Gibson.

On long walks around town, I’m witnessing ways our city is starting to make that happen. The most noticeable difference: a flock to the outdoors. Dining now takes place on patios, sidewalks, parklets, and alleyways. In public parks, groups are engaged in every activity imaginable, from flag football to kickboxing to hip hop dance. Rooftops aren’t exclusively for happy hours, but for yoga classes, group lectures, and business meetings. 

Beyond taking advantage of warmer temperatures, the adaptation to the great outdoors signifies something deeper: a newfound interconnectedness. Seeing people out and about, especially in contrast to our isolating winter, is making our city feel more alive, accessible, and inclusive. We are appreciating life again – and each other. You can tell there’s a difference when you pass someone on the street these days – it feels good to make eye contact and greet someone with a smile. 

Indeed, how we meet, interact, and socialize is a huge part of our enjoyment of life. Last month, my historic rowhouse neighborhood was transformed into a world of post-pandemic creative bliss. The Fan Arts Stroll came about as a way for people to safely share their skills and talents in an open-air setting. Featuring sidewalk art, porch concerts, and food trucks, the grassroots event helped support local artists while also building community. 

Before COVID, my husband and I travelled a lot. In our wanders to nearly 60 countries across six continents, we noticed the importance that community plays in shaping a city’s culture. From the street food stalls of Bangkok to the colorful markets of New Delhi, people aren’t just existing together – they’re living together, wholly and intentionally.

One of my favorite aspects of life abroad is the ritualistic evening stroll that takes place in many cities around the world. Whether it’s the Passeggiata in Rome or the Paseo in Buenos Aires, the concept is the same. Before dinner, people of all ages take to the streets in the historic center to enjoy fresh air, a little bit of exercise, and each other’s company. 

It’s uplifting to see such a diverse mix of people of all ages and lifestyles embrace being together – students, professionals, families, retirees and more. Best of all, strolling is entirely free, involves no planning, and has zero agenda. Instead of trying to make plans or coordinate schedules in advance, everyone already knows where to go and what to do. All they have to do is show up. 

I’ve often wondered what an evening stroll might look like in Richmond. Happy hour on the lawn at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts is the closest I’ve gotten. Before pandemic life rendered all social gatherings null and void, I’d stake out a spot at the top of the hill on most Friday nights in the summer. Nothing beats the feeling of soaking up beautiful scenery while catching up with friends, people-watching, and simply being present. 

Locals enjoy the popular happy hour on the lawn at Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in pre-pandemic times. Photo by EVERGIB / Rachel Scott Everett.

In my musings, I imagine people convening not just on the VMFA lawn, but along the steps of the grand entryway of nearby Virginia Museum of History & Culture. In many countries, it’s not uncommon for people to gather outside prominent public buildings like libraries, theaters, and churches. 

Between the landmark museums, the stroll would start along Arthur Ashe Boulevard where food trucks might be parked, serving snacks and refreshments. It would then continue down Monument Avenue, Richmond’s redefined Champs-Elysées. Sites of former Confederate statues would be replaced with bubbling fountains that light up in the evening to create a spectacular promenade that’s as magical as it is historic. 

The fencing around Marcus-David Peters Circle would be removed, allowing the space to once again become a community gathering spot, open to all. Like any central square in Europe, it would serve as a common meeting point – a place for people to come together in the heart of the city. A living symbol of how our dark past is making way for a bright future. When it’s time for dinner, strollers would make their way to local restaurants in the neighborhood or continue their evening elsewhere. 

The beauty of this concept is that it doesn’t have to be relegated to a single area in Richmond. After all, fostering a sense of community isn’t bound by geography. It’s a mindset – a way in which we perceive and behave towards other people. Through our attitude and actions, each of us can demonstrate our interconnectedness and in turn, have it be felt and reverberated throughout our entire city.

In the 14th century, Europe experienced an incredible revitalization of art, culture, and philosophy that was later referred to as The Renaissance, taken from the French word for “rebirth.” While many factors led to this impactful time period, noted scholars say the end of The Black Death (also known as the Plague) was the primary impetus. 

The global epidemic, which lasted for centuries, killed up to 200 million people and decimated populations worldwide. Life has always been short, but particularly in the Middle Ages when modern medicine did not exist (get vaccinated, everyone, and encourage others to do the same).

The Renaissance brought about enormous social change. One of its most defining aspects was humanism, an intellectual movement that promoted the importance of education, as well as civic virtue, defined as “a person’s full potential both for their own good and for the good of the society in which they live” (Source: World History Encyclopedia). To that end, the Renaissance wasn’t just about celebrating new ideas; it was about celebrating people. 

What comes next is uncharted territory for all of us. But as we navigate the new chapter ahead, we have an opportunity to renew our commitment to community. We can help show others – and ourselves – why coming together is necessary to our lives and our collective pursuit of happiness. It can be as simple as looking up from our phones to say hello, supporting a new local restaurant, or taking a stroll around the neighborhood.

Now’s the time, Richmond. See you out there… 

Top Photo: Locals meander the streets during the bi-annual Fan Arts Stroll last month. Photo by EVERGIB / Brian Gibson.

Egypt’s Sunken Treasures

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Treasures of Ancient Egypt: Sunken Cities, which is currently on view at the VMFA, provides a close-up look into the bygone history and culture of Ptolemaic Egypt.

Treasures of Ancient Egypt: Sunken Cities at VMFA offers a rare glimpse into the material culture of Ptolemaic Egypt, a golden age of human creativity and arts. It well worth the visit to see these accent artifacts rescued from the water in such pristine condition. VMFA is the only East Coast venue to have this exhibition, and a last stop before the objects return to their permanent home in Egypt. 

If you’re a fan of Egyptian history and artifacts, you will find a treasure trove of unique art — including the colossal statue of the fertility god Hapy, which is the largest discovered representation of an Egyptian god.

The exhibition is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see treasures recovered from two powerful ancient Egyptian cities that sank into the Mediterranean more than a thousand years ago. These civilizations were destroyed by a natural catastrophes in the 8th century AD. Thonis-Heracleion and Canopus were once mighty centers of trade, where Egyptian and Greek cultures merged. In the centuries since their demise, these two cities were known only by scattered mentions in ancient writings. No physical trace existed and there were few mentions in history, with even their true names growing obscured. Maritime archaeologist Franck Goddio and his European Institute for Underwater Archaeology (IEASM) have given new life to these sunken cities. 

Visitors get to encounter these findings firsthand, including amazing film footage and photographs that illustrate underwater expeditions with dramatic rediscoveries. Visiting the exhibit, I was immediately stuck with the beauty and preservation of the ancient stone carvings. This period features a unique mix of Greek and Egyptian art and philosophy. These pictures from my visit capture some of the striking art and sculptures. A visit in person truly transports you into a world all its own, where you can discover ancient history like never before.  

Colossal Statue of God Hapy
Live surround video of underwater expeditions
The Black Stone Queen
Striking statue of Antinous, Roman Emperor Hadrian’s Lover, who drowned in the Nile, later to be deified by the Emperor.
Egyptian Pharaoh in headdress
Stele Decree by Pharaoh Nectanebo on Thonis-Heracleion
Top of the Stele with Religious markings
Egyptian Statue of Horus the Child
Black Striking Statue of Arsinoe
Amazing Bust of Neilos, the God of Nile, showing Geek influence during this time period.
Osiris and Isis Statues
Statue of Tawaret, “The Great One.” This hippo-like God protects infants and mothers.
Statue of Osiris dedicated by Nitokris, daughter of Psamtik, a late Egyptian King.
Osiris Hydreious Statue. Osiris the Watery was worshiped uniquely in Canopus and connected with the Nile.
The Apis Bull Statue standing full-sized. The bull was a manifestation of the God Ptah, one of the original gods of creation.

Treasures of Ancient Egypt: Sunken Cities is on view at the VMFA through January 18, 2021. Capacity is limited, due to social distancing needs, and the VMFA strongly recommends you make reservations in advance.

Photos by John Reinhold