Christie’s and Sotheby’s have their biggest auctions of the summer (Spring season) this week, in both London and New York, with sales expected to reach record levels. The sales cover all the major periods though the Impressionist and Contemporary Art collections are slated to be the biggest draws. [You can view previews of the collections on the Christie's and Sotheby's websites.] Given the magnitude of the event, art market coverage has amped-up in the past week or so. Here are some highlights:

• What Lies Beneath: Sometimes even the largest of museums & galleries learn that they’ve been duped. (Telegraph)
• Flight to Tangibles: When the market is down, art increases in value because, well, a Picasso will always be a Picasso. (WSJ)
• The New Guard of Curators Steps Up: Being a curator is the new chic. (NYT)
• The Polaroid Collection: This Sotheby’s video helps breath new life into Polaroid’s stunning private collection (Sotheby’s)

Egyptian Modern art, which is characterized by a combination of love of patrimony and experimentation with new forms, available on the market right now falls between 1929-1989.

For this semester, I took two classes that fall under the heading of “art”. One was literature and the other was an art history class. Having started off college as an English Literature major and never having taken an art history class before, I am now asking myself why, upon reflection, I’d rate my art history class so much higher than my literature.

The literature class focuses on Italian short stories and poetry from the late 1800s to the early 1900s and analyzes the change in the importance and power of the use of words in this time period. Sounds abstract and cool right? My art history class focused on the first 5 centuries after the death of Christ and analyzes the development of early christian iconology. Umm, no one told me I was going to have to go to church. So why did I like the art history so much more?

The difference lies on the emphasis on context. The lit class is all about style and less about the time period in which the writers lived. The art history class, on the contrary, is all about the time periods in which certain images became popular and has very little to do with an individual artists style or technique (fresco, what’s that?).

Why is context important?

Without context, the recent terrorist attacks in Mumbai are just a case of angsty young Pakistanis.

Without context, the American Revolution was just a bunch of men suffering from cabin fever.

Without context, Obama is just a polished orator and stylish new age politician. Not the first black man to become president of the United States or the inheritor of an economy in crisis who comes at a time when the US is in need of hope.

Without context, all the negativistic poetry we’ve been reading is just a bunch the ideas of a bunch of crabby old men, not a response to the violation of the freedom of expression during the birth of fascism.

Without context, christian images give an identiy and sense of uniformity to all churches and most religions but don’t expose the slow, progressive fabrication of a religion as it moved into the Occident.

Get my point? Context is imoprtant because it changes how we read information. Thus, whoever tells you you shouldn’t read between the lines deserves a talking to.

So I turned 21 on Monday. I don’t think it’s really hit me yet because a) my driver’s license still says “under 21″ b) the only way people knew it was my birthday was because they checked Facebook before coming to class and c) for Italians, there is no reason to celebrate your 21st birthday–wait, I could drink wine before Monday? Since my bank account was (is) still hurting slightly from travel fees and even a small little getaway to the Med, I didn’t really do anything special to celebrate (other than, you know, spend the big day in Italy) except drink maybe a litre of water and go to class (maybe next month I’ll just make a little detour into that Missoni store).

Classes here have been incredibly interesting–in more ways than one. First of all, for the University class I chose on Monday, the professor didn’t show. For the other one I tried to go to, they decided not to have it start until October. Thus, I apparently got up at 6:30 AM to catch the bus for no reason. Although, I very much enjoyed watching the Italian students. For the most part, they’re actually older than American students when they start school so I’m actually young for the the level I’m at. Weird. Also, I was the only girl wearing a skirt. I was seriously paranoid all morning that there was some dresscode disclaimer (“Skinny jeans, chucks and designer purse required”) that I missed.

My Middlebury classes, though also interesting, are just that–Middlebury Classes, with one exam in the middle, one exam at the end, one major paper and a bunch of reading, with participation taking up most of your grade. My class on the European Union I think is the one I’m going to enjoy the most (read: Future Career Possibility). However, the professor for literature is ottimo, amazing. He may spit a little when he gets really excited about a work, but his teaching style is otherwise absolutely beautiful. And then there’s my art history class. I think we (all six of us) are all a little afriad of that class mainly because they professor looks very much like he belongs to the mafia (thus, I don’t really want to ask where he learned so much about art) and speaks in very elevated Italian. However, it is the class with the newest material for me and I find it incredibly interesting to have everything I’ve ever seen about art finally explained.

In other news, my newest music obsession is this song. It’s not Italian (I haven’t really heard much Italian because all the stores seem to have Kate Perry on infinite repeat) and it currently has no real music video, but I want it.

The Kills, “Sour Cherry”

The Washington Pavilion of Arts and Sciences here in Sioux Falls is currently hosting an exhibit called “LC Bakery,” also known as “The Blackery.” Without going into too much detail, I’ll tell you that the gist of the exhibit is this: the artist is inspired by burned loaves of French bread. He sees their individual curves and shapes and imperfections as something to be admired and displayed. Venturing into the world of sight and smell displays, LC has arranged his loaves of bread on the top floor exhibit hall of the Pavilion. What’s unique about this exhibit is, unless you go every day, you’re likely never to see the same design twice.

When my friend and I stopped by to see it Friday night, we honestly had no response. It’s probably one of the first art displays I’ve seen in awhile where I did not feel compelled to give a response. I just wanted to look at it. I want to stand close to the wall and squint up at the bread. I wanted to stand as far away as possible so as to feel the wave effect produced by the few, every so slightly tilted loaves.

Unfortunately, however, my friend and I were in the minority in terms of our responses (or lack thereof) and many others felt compelled to give there own in the Comment Book. I’ll be honest, it was by far the most scathing comment book I’ve ever read, filled with comments like “This sucks,” “This is not art,” “What a waste of money,” “I don’t understand.” Few of the comments were legible, let alone intelligent and I was actually modestly ashamed of the Sioux Falls audience that I now feel compelled to do one of two things. 1) Go back and fill a page with a stellar review or 2) Write to the Argus Leader. Before I do either, however, there are a couple of things that need clearing up.

1) The Pavilion received grant money for this so your tax dollars are not being used.
2) One of the most common observations in the horrible Comment Book was, why waste the grain when we’re in the middle of a food crisis. My response: the bread was baked locally, using local grain (that probably would have never gone to those who need it most). Thus, it prevented a food crisis in Sioux Falls and the surrounding area for that much longer.
3) Of course it’s art. If you don’t understand it and you keep on talking about it and it expresses different shapes, meanings and concepts (and it’s in an art museum selected by a committee that has always had good taste), then it has to be art. In fact, you walk into the room and there’s no doubt that it’s art.
4) The Pavilion is seeking national accreditation meaning, if their certification passes, you can use your Pavilion member card at the Met or the MoMA, should you ever leave the state.
5) This is only the second time the exhibit has been diplayed–ever. Read about it HERE and HERE.