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S.F. fountain's 95-year-old creator returns: ‘I'm here to save that piece of art'

S.F. fountain's 95-year-old creator returns: ‘I'm here to save that piece of art'

The creator of the giant Vaillancourt Fountain at San Francisco's Embarcadero Plaza is aware that he may never see it restored to its former glory with water gushing through its white concrete pipes and channels.
But dry and dingy as it is, the monumental artwork has been there for nearly 55 controversial years, and Armand Vaillancourt says it can last another 55 at least.
That is why Vaillancourt, 95, made the six-hour flight from Montreal to San Francisco this week.
'I'm here to save that piece of art,' he said in a thick Quebecois accent while sitting in the sun Tuesday admiring his work.
The 40-foot-tall, 710-ton fountain, installed in 1971 next to the Embarcadero Freeway, has survived a legion of critics over the decades who decried its blocky Brutalist aesthetic. It also survived the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, which damaged the freeway beyond repair.
But its supporters, including Vaillancourt, fear it may not survive the pending transformation of the park that surrounds it.
An ambitious $30 million project is underway to dramatically redesign Embarcadero Plaza, formerly known as Justin Herman Plaza, and link it to the adjacent Sue Bierman Park. The effort was announced last November by then-Mayor London Breed, and endorsed by the Board of Supervisors in March.
A preliminary rendering published with the announcement did not show the fountain. That got the attention of Vaillancourt's daughter Oceania, who informed her father.
The project is still in the planning phase. No design decisions have been made, no public hearings have been held, and Vaillancourt said no representative of the city has reached out to him.
But he did not like what he did not see on the renderings. So he booked his own flight and booked his own preemptive hearing this week with the staff of the San Francisco Arts Commission, which owns the sculpture as part of the Civic Art Collection.
'They made the new plan and my monumental sculpture is not there,' said Vaillancourt.
He described his message to city staff as, 'Be reasonable. Let that artwork live forever.'
'This survived a 7.1 earthquake with no damage, not a scratch, but they never took care of it,' he said. 'There's nothing wrong with it except the dirt.'
San Francisco Recreation and Park Department officials told the Chronicle that they had met with Vaillancourt on Wednesday. 'It was an initial conversation focused on listening and exploring ways we might work together going forward,' said spokesperson Tamara Aparton.
She said the park department spent an average of $100,000 per year on maintenance of the fountain, which includes repairing persistent leaks and clogged drains, servicing the pumps, removing debris and cleaning graffiti.
But the only recent sign of attention Vaillancourt said he could see was a high fence on the Embarcadero side, an apparent attempt by the city to keep people from sleeping on the sculpture. While he was there Tuesday, a security guard came and rousted people who seemed to be setting up camp.
He had not visited the fountain in eight years, and his first reaction upon seeing it was to utter: 'Wow.'
'The joy,' he said. 'It is so powerful.'
The fountain's sheer size is part of its artistic power — and a major issue in deciding its fate. Part of the civic discussion is whether it can be moved to another location in the city, or put into storage.
Vallaincourt laughed at that idea.
The fountain, which took him four years to build, is anchored to a foundation 40 feet deep and has steel cables running throughout. It was intended to shift and sway but never break, and did not even burst a pipe during the Loma Prieta quake.
However, it eventually blew a pump, and last summer the water was turned off. It would cost millions to repair, but Vaillancourt said it would cost millions more to demolish the fountain and backfill the huge crater that would leave behind.
He endorses whatever plan the city has for the plaza, which is likely to remove the brick and replace it with grass and trees or other natural elements. He said the fountain will go perfectly amid all of this, provided it is sandblasted to return it to its original white luster, and the water is turned back on. (When it was installed, the flow at 30,000 gallons a minute was intended in part to drown out the traffic noise from the adjacent freeway.)
'If you keep the sculpture like it is, people cannot enjoy it,' he said. 'When the water is on, the kids run through it. It's a big toy in a sense.'
The redesign and renovation is a partnership between the Recreation and Park Department, the Downtown SF Partnership and BXP (formerly Boston Properties), the commercial real estate firm that owns the four Embarcadero Center office buildings east of the plaza.
One community outreach meeting has been held by the park department, and a second one is to be scheduled sometime this spring or summer.
Vaillancourt said he has done his own community outreach and claimed that 'all of the people we talk to, engineers and architects and all that, they say do anything in the park but don't touch Vaillancourt Fountain.'
Skateboarders, who like to thrash up the concrete benches, don't want it touched. Neither do the members of the Northern California chapter of Docomomo US, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving the architecture of the modern movement.
They will host an informal picnic at 4 p.m. Friday at the fountain, with Vaillancourt promising to attend and engage in any form of conversation or debate.
With his distinctive flowing white hair and beard, he describes himself as a 'small tiger,' and though he will be 96 in September, 'all my life I've never said I'm tired,' he said.
Then he leaned back to admire his creation and started singing a song that was popular when he was building it, with his wife, Joanne, and son Alexis looking on.
'All we are saying, is give peace a chance.'
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Column: A Chicago film curator reflects on her new job in London, where national arts funding is still a thing
Column: A Chicago film curator reflects on her new job in London, where national arts funding is still a thing

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  • Chicago Tribune

Column: A Chicago film curator reflects on her new job in London, where national arts funding is still a thing

Across two decades, the film programmer Rebecca Fons, soon departing the Siskel Film Center in Chicago for a big new job at London's Barbican Centre, has worked at a novel variety of movie venues, including the single-screen Iowa Theater in her hometown of Winterset, Iowa, population a little more than 5,000. Most towns that size haven't had a movie theater for years. Fons and her mother, Marianne Fons, raised a million bucks and rehabbed and reopened the Iowa Theater on John Wayne Drive in Winterset as a nonprofit. Fons still programs the programming, which typically is 'F1' or 'Superman' but this week, at 7 p.m. July 31, it's 'Singin' in the Rain.' Fons, 43, has been the Siskel Film Center's director of programming since 2021. She will continue to program the Iowa when she becomes Head of Cinema at the sprawling Brutalist multidisciplinary Barbican arts complex this summer. The Barbican, by many measurements, remains London's leading cultural destination; it's home base for, among other organizations, the Royal Shakespeare Company and the London Symphony Orchestra. And it is generally tagged as the largest arts center in Europe. Our conversation has been edited for clarity and length. Q: In your job interviews for the Barbican post, what seemed to be the X-factor in your hiring? A: I think it had a lot to do with a noticeably varied career. I worked at the Chicago International Film Festival for nearly a decade, I did educational screenings, worked with students, teachers, general audiences, I managed volunteers, handled the visiting talent, ran around red carpets. I rehabbed a cinema with my mom and popped popcorn and picked carpet patterns. For FilmScene in Iowa City (a three-screen operation that Fons ran from 2017 to 2020), I programmed for rural audiences, college audiences. Here at the Film Center, I program for urban audiences. I guess (the Barbican) saw all this, and saw in me a curiosity to learn more, and always collaborate. How can we do with film, to go beyond the frame? That kept coming up in our interviews, and that aligned with what the Barbican has been doing with all its cross-disciplinary and inter-disciplinary programming. They've always done it, but they're entering a new era with it. Q: It's interesting to read a culture job description issued by a major institution in 2025 that isn't afraid of words like 'diverse' or 'provoke debate.' We talked earlier this year about the zeroing out of the National Endowment for the Arts and how it could affect Film Center programming like the Black Harvest Film Festival. A few months later, everyone's hurting. A: Yeah. (pause) The core values of the Barbican, and the mission and the support of the nation the Barbican happens to be part of — they're very welcome right now. Just to know there will be no debates about the value of national arts funding, very welcome. The Barbican's strategic plan and its mission align with my own values as a curator and as a human being. The (head of cinema) job is why I'm going, and I'm honored to be in that role. The rest of it is icing on the cake, but it's not just icing, if you know what I mean. What's interesting is that the Film Center's programming and the Barbican's programming have a lot of similarities. They run new films, we run new films. They host the London Palestine Film Festival, we host the Chicago Palestine Film Festival. They host various partner festivals' screenings, we do the same. They showcase a lot of repertory titles, as do we. Also, this is sort of wild: The Barbican opened in 1982, three months before I was born (laughs). Q: Has anyone there asked you where Iowa is? Do they believe it exists? A: Um (laughs), you're right, I should probably cue up a screening of 'Field of Dreams' for the staff and just say 'I live near there.' Honestly, I'll just show them photos of the Iowa Theater in my hometown. We're all connected by this business we love. Q: Your successor at the Film Center, whoever that turns out to be — what advice would you give to this person about the challenges and the possibilities? A: Every film exhibitor or curator or programmer is just trying to read the tea leaves and adjust. As usual. After the pandemic lockdown, and then the fallout from the (writers and actors) strikes, the industry was adjusting and counter-adjusting, trying to figure things out. It's a dance marathon, and we're all a bit tired. But we're here. There's a lot of encouragement and support and courage. We're all in it. People have been predicting the death of cinema since not too long after the birth of cinema. We just keep doing what we do. It's a resilient art form.

The new LACMA is sleek, splotchy, powerful, jarring, monotonous, appealing and absurd
The new LACMA is sleek, splotchy, powerful, jarring, monotonous, appealing and absurd

Los Angeles Times

time27-06-2025

  • Los Angeles Times

The new LACMA is sleek, splotchy, powerful, jarring, monotonous, appealing and absurd

Ever since Brutalist architecture emerged in the 1950s, the style has been polarizing. Concrete might be gray, but public response rarely enters into gray areas. The buildings' raw, unfinished concrete forms, typically simple, are loved or hated. The Los Angeles County Museum of Art is nearing completion of its own new Brutalist building, designed by Swiss architect Peter Zumthor, 82, to house the permanent collection of paintings, sculptures and other works of art. For three days and one evening, beginning July 3, museum members will get a sneak peek at the empty interior spaces of the David Geffen Galleries. The fully finished project, with art installed, doesn't open until April 2026. Concrete is not eco-friendly, either in production or in results like heat magnification, and some celebrated architects with a social justice bent refuse to use it. But its visual power is undeniable — a strength of the huge Zumthor design. His poured-in-place concrete gobbles 347,500 square feet, including 110,000 square feet in 90 exhibition galleries and corridors lofted 30 feet above ground atop seven massive piers, crossing Wilshire Boulevard. Some of my favorite art museum buildings are Brutalist in design, like Marcel Breuer's fortress-like former Whitney in New York (1966), and Louis Kahn's refined classicism at the Kimbell in Fort Worth (1972). Brad Cloepfil's Clyfford Still Museum in Denver, which may be the best new American museum built for art in the last 15 years, uses concrete brilliantly to illuminate Still's rugged painting motifs. Zumthor's Geffen doesn't come close. I've written a lot about the long-aborning LACMA project over the last dozen years, focused on the design's negative impact on the museum program, but that's now baked in. (The museum pegs the building cost at $720 million, but sources have told me the entire project cost is closer to $835 million.) L.A.'s encyclopedic museum, with a global permanent collection simply installed geographically as straightforward chronology, is dead, and the Geffen Galleries prevent it from ever coming back. Changing theme shows drawn from the collection, curatorially driven, are the new agenda. Having theme galleries is like banishing the alphabet that organizes the encyclopedia on your shelf. Chronology and geography are not some imperialistic scheme dominating global art. They just make finding things in a sprawling encyclopedic art collection easy for visitors. Good luck with that now. I've pretty much avoided consideration of the building's aesthetics. The exception was a 2013 column responding to 'The Presence of the Past,' a somewhat clumsy exhibition of Zumthor's still-evolving design conception, which has changed greatly in the final form. Reviewing purpose-built architecture is a fool's errand when you can't experience the purpose — impossible for another 10 months, when the art-installed Geffen opens. A press event Thursday allowed entry into the gallery spaces, however, so a few things are now obvious. One is that museum galleries are theatrical spaces — there's a reason they're called shows — and chances are you've never seen so much concrete in one place. Sometimes it's sleek and appealing, sometimes splotchy and cracked. (Surface mottling could soften over time.) But across floors, walls and ceilings of 90 bunker-like rooms and long, meandering corridors, the limitless concrete is monotonous. Grieg's 'In the Hall of the Mountain King' meets Beckett's theater of the absurd. Another is that views from the floor-to-ceiling windows that surround the building will offer lovely, interesting city vistas — welcome relief from the monotony. (Curtains will be installed around the perimeter.) 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Also daunting: Art will be hung on all that concrete by drilling holes in the walls and pounding in anchors. Moving the art will be cumbersome, requiring concrete patching. The entire process is labor-intensive and expensive. Zumthor is the sixth architect to have had a whack at LACMA, following earlier efforts by William L. Pereira, Hardy Holzman Pfeiffer Associates, Bruce Goff, Rem Koolhaas, and Renzo Piano. Koolhaas never got beyond the proposal stage, although his marvelous idea pioneered the teardown-then-build-a-pavilion-on-stilts plan now coming to very different fruition. Only Goff produced a notable building, with a novel Japanese Pavilion that conceptually turned inside out the spiral Guggenheim Museum by his mentor, Frank Lloyd Wright. (Happily, the Japanese Pavilion can now be seen from the street.) The rest were mostly meh, salted with an occasional ugh. 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LACMA should be half as savvy. Climb the 60-plus steps up to the Geffen Galleries, or take an elevator, and when you arrive some art will be out front and some out back. Surely, we won't regard that front/back difference as anti-egalitarian. Will the Geffen Galleries be successful? My crystal ball is broken, but I see no reason why it won't be a popular attraction. And that is clearly the museum's priority. An urban environment with a talented architect's unusual art museum design tagged by a monumental topiary sculpture on the main drag — that's a description of Frank Gehry's incomparable Guggenheim Bilbao, the great 1997 museum in Basque northern Spain, where Jeff Koons' marvelous floral 'Puppy' sculpture holds court out front. (Every palace needs topiary, a leafy green power emblem of culture's control over nature; Koons' 40-foot-tall West Highland white dog makes for an especially cuddly symbol of guardianship.) Now the description fits LACMA too. The museum just announced the acquisition of Koons' floral behemoth, 'Split-Rocker,' a rather bland hobby horse topiary that merges a toy dinosaur's head with the hobby horse's head. LACMA is next door to the La Brea Tar Pits & Museum, and the kiddie dino, a natural history plaything, forces a shotgun wedding with a degraded example of art history's triumphant motif of a man on a horse. Govan worked on Bilbao before coming to L.A., and the formula there is being repeated here. L.A.'s eye-grabbing building won't be as great nor its Instagram-ready topiary be nearly as good as the Bilbao ensemble, but when does lightning strike twice? As museums, Bilbao and LACMA couldn't be more different. One has a small, mostly mediocre permanent collection of contemporary art, while the other has a large, often excellent permanent collection of global art from all eras. The so-called Bilbao Effect sent cultural tourism, then already on the rise, skyrocketing. With the David Geffen Galleries, LACMA has put its very expensive eggs in that tourism basket. It might take some time to work. The U.S. is the world's largest travel and tourism sector, but it's the only one forecast by the World Travel & Tourism Council to see international visitor decline in 2025 — and probably beyond. Between erratic pandemic recovery and an abusive federal government hostile to foreigners, worries are growing in L.A. about the imminent soccer World Cup and the Olympics. It's also surprising that the museum is now bleeding critical senior staff, just as LACMA's lengthy transformation from a civic art museum into a tourist destination trembles on the verge of completion. Previously unreported, chief operating officer Diana Vesga is already gone, deputy director for curatorial and exhibitions J. Fiona Ragheb recently left, and chief financial officer Mark Mitchell departs next week. Those are three top-tier institutional positions. Let's hope they don't know something we also don't know.

Neon dreams and nature scenes make for two very different home decor trends in 2025
Neon dreams and nature scenes make for two very different home decor trends in 2025

San Francisco Chronicle​

time06-06-2025

  • San Francisco Chronicle​

Neon dreams and nature scenes make for two very different home decor trends in 2025

Home decor's got a split personality this year: Call it 'city glow' and 'cottage flow.' At the two international design fairs that I attended — Maison et Objet in France, Ambiente in Germany — acres of exhibition booths were full of Art Deco furnishings, island-vibe rattan seating and lighting, and lots of emphasis on sustainably produced materials. But a couple of aesthetics drawing crowds were especially interesting. Capturing the 'city glow' One was an exuberant urban vibe I'm nicknaming 'city glow.' It's full of highlighter-hued throw pillows, edgy surrealism, street art and hefty, Brutalist-style furniture — lots of sharp-cornered steel or concrete consoles and lamps that loomed over rooms — as well as rugs and wallcoverings covered in graffiti-style motifs or swaths of vibrant color. Gretchen Rivera, an interior designer in Washington, D.C., sees it as a look that resonates especially with 'younger generations who grew up with digital influences. There's surrealist art, energetic colors and playful, almost toy-like design.' Interior designer Anton Liakhov in Nice, France, agrees: 'For a generation clamoring for creativity and self-expression, it's loud and in-your-face.' For surface colors, look at Benjamin Moore's spicy orange Bryce Canyon or the bubblegum-pink Springtime Bloom. Daydream Apothecary has a whole collection of neon wall paints for intrepid decorators. Sisters Ana and Lola Sánchez use art as a bold form of self-expression at their luxe brand Oliver Gal, in South Florida. It's known for its handcrafted, statement-making pieces — including large acrylic gummy bears, graphic surfboards and wall art inspired by fashion, pop culture and modern surrealism. The result is a vibrant, edgy aesthetic. A new collection, Rococo Pop, introduces rococo-inspired frames in high-gloss acrylics paired with playful graphic imagery. 'We wanted to take the opulence of 18th century rococo,' notes Ana Sánchez, 'and give it a cheeky, pop-art punch.' 'These frames are like little rebels in ballgowns — elegant, over-the-top and totally unexpected,' adds Lola Sánchez. The style, her sister says, 'celebrates contrast. Old World charm meets modern mischief.' Following the 'cottage flow' The other impressive decor style at the design fairs was very different from the urban look. I'm calling this one 'cottage flow,' and Liakhov describes it as evoking a 'peaceful sanctuary, where you can play around with textures that are anchored in, and in tune with, nature.' Think nubby woolen throws in mossy hues. Softly burnished wooden tables. Vintage quilts, and dishware. Gingham and garden florals. Landscape prints. Imagery of birds and woodland animals on textiles and wallcoverings. Etsy's 2025 spring/summer trend report showed that searches for 'French cottage decor' were up over 26,000% compared to 2024. 'I see people embracing a slower pace to life where they can,' says New York-based interior and decor designer Kathy Kuo about the country cottage style. 'The past two decades or so were dominated by a glorification of fast-paced 'hustle culture' — trends like cottagecore and coastal grandmother are evidence that the pendulum's swinging toward taking pleasure in simpler, more nature-adjacent things in life, whether or not you actually live in a country cottage,' she says. Paint colors are also reflecting the trend. A calming sage green called Quietude is HGTV Home by Sherwin-Williams' color of the year. Little-Greene's collection has names like Rolling Fog, Tea with Florence and Hammock. Mixing the styles Watching design show visitors excitedly discovering new finds among the aisles, I thought THIS is what's fun about home decorating: You can think as creatively as you like when it comes to your own home. You're all about high-octane city nightlife? Come this way. Scottish crofts, Scandi cabins and cozy porches more your thing? Right over here. And if you want to mix these two aesthetics? Go for it. There's space to blend elements of both, says Kuo. 'Design trends are so fluid. I absolutely see the potential to merge these into each other,' she says. 'Many city dwellers love time in nature and have an affinity for a more rustic look, while still feeling called to honor their urban environment in their home. I see plenty of modern interior design motifs that are sleek and urban on the surface, but in the details, they're infused with organic textures and biophilic elements.' 'Really, the best designs are the ones that are personal, rather than perfect,' she adds. You could display an array of contemporary glass bowls on a curvy walnut credenza. Mix botanical patterns in vibrant, unexpected colors. Soften room elements like a sleek table and industrial-style lamp with boucle or velvet cushions and a fluffy rug. Pair polished concrete floors with vintage-inspired wallcovering. If you don't want to mix elements in one space, consider using sliding partitions from one room to another. You'll create a little style 'journey.'

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