Surely you must know the name of Seymour Chwast, right? As the co-founder of legendary graphic design studio Push Pin, he was a prime mover in deflating the pomposity of modernism and ushering in the freer, more whimsical visual styles that defined the ’60s and ’70s. On a personal note, he was also one of the first artists whose work I noticed in books such as American Illustration 1982-83. One look at Chwast’s charming yet sophisticated imagery made me say “I want to do that” (side note: I’m still attempting to do that). Several decades of Chwast’s art, both commercial and personal, have been assembled in a handsome new book titled Seymour: The Obsessive Images Of Seymour Chwast.
This is one cool book. Most of its 262 pages are just what the title says: images, one to a page or spread, with annotations confined to the back few pages. Everything is grouped thematically in topics such as war, food, fashion and sex. There’s also the occasional oddball subject, such as a series of Mexican Wrestler pieces Chwast did in 2002. Although the art dates from as early as the 1960s and encompasses a wide variety of media (dig the cut sheet metal plates of food), certain things have remained constant in his work. A sense of whimsy is first and foremost. The re-purposing of various early 20th century design styles is also ever-present. Chwast also seems to have a constant fascination with exploring humankind’s frailties in a lighthearted way. The uselessness of war and the attraction of consumption are themes that come up over and over again in his work. The biggest impression I get here is that the man is a non-stop art machine. The introductory essay by famed Push Pin designer (and Mrs. Chwast) Paula Scher confirms it. I wonder if he ever has times when he turns the creativity switch “off.”
Seymour: The Obsessive Images Of Seymour Chwast is published by Chronicle. Buy at Amazon.com here.
Let’s talk ground meat. Especially the myriad ways ground meat could be prepared for that idea-strapped ’50s housewife. Exciting, eh?
From Here To Eternity (1953) and High Noon (1952). Strangely enough, I’ve never seen either of these until they popped up as part of the Fred Zinneman director salute on Turner Classic Movies. I loved From Here To Eternity. The film might look hokey and overacted by today’s standards, but in 1953 this was potent stuff delivered by a surprisingly diverse cast. Montgomery Clift, Burt Lancaster and Frank Sinatra head a cast that actually comes across as refreshingly low-key and realistic for a vintage melodrama. Deborah Kerr attempting to stifle her British accent probably fares the worst, but she’s okay enough. Given its pedigree, High Noon was something of a disappointment. I wouldn’t rank it as one of the best ever, but I enjoyed the mounting sense of dread as Gary Cooper faces the most trying hour of his life. Westerns aren’t a genre that I normally gravitate towards (I live in a desert; deserts are boring), but this one had a strong enough story to keep me intrigued. Like Eternity, it has an excellent supporting cast of pros who give it their all.
Boz Scaggs — Silk Degrees. As I was compiling my 40 Years, 40 Albums post last year, I noticed the severe lack of mid- to late-’70s albums in my collection. This was remedied a bit with a download of this smasheroonie from 1976. I can see why this was a huge seller, since it captures a peculiar merging of pop, rock, soul, disco, blues, and even a bit of reggae (”Love Me Tomorrow”) — all smoothly produced enough not to alienate anyone. A good vehicle for Scaggs’ smooth and charismatic voice, which buoys the album’s weaker first half well. I always dug “Lowdown” and “Lido Shuffle,” but the two lesser-known hits “It’s Over” and “What Can I Say” are nice surprises. Especially the latter tune, which encapsulates that super-slick L.A. summery pop sound as well as anything from that particular Qiana-and-margaritas era. p.s. Since my sweetie gifted me with 50 free iTunes downloads, I will be doing five different albums over the next five weeks. Something else to look forward to, kiddies.