Friday, May 24, 2019

A01008 - Barbara Marx Hubbard, Futuristic Proponent of "Conscious Evolution"

Barbara Marx Hubbard, 89, Futurist Who Saw ‘Conscious Evolution,’ Dies

Barbara Marx Hubbard in 1978. Her book “Conscious Evolution: Awakening the Power of Our Social Potential” is a core text among those who think the human race is on the brink of an enhanced way of existing.CreditLyn Alweis/The Denver Post, via Getty Images
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Barbara Marx Hubbard in 1978. Her book “Conscious Evolution: Awakening the Power of Our Social Potential” is a core text among those who think the human race is on the brink of an enhanced way of existing.CreditCreditLyn Alweis/The Denver Post, via Getty Images
The candidate wanted no part of the negativity endemic to politics. Instead she offered an aggressively upbeat view of the future she foresaw for the human race.
“We must combine our compassion with our creativity,” she urged the convention. “We must initiate a new process in democracy to identify our positive options, discover our potentials and commit our political will to long-range goals.”
The words might have fit nicely into the current presidential campaign, but they actually were spoken 35 years ago at the Democratic National Convention in San Francisco by a woman few expected to see take the stage, much less be nominated for the vice presidency. She was Barbara Marx Hubbard, who was not a politician by trade but a futurist, spiritual thinker, author and proponent of what are today lumped under the label of New Age ideas.
Ms. Hubbard, campaigning for months, had gathered enough supportto have her name placed in nomination, mostly so that she could make a symbolic speech to the convention before endorsing the already assured ticket of Walter F. Mondale and Geraldine A. Ferraro. Ms. Hubbard believed that humans would graduate to a new level of cooperation and enlightenment, and in her speech — delivered to a largely inattentive audience, and not in the prime-time television window — she suggested who might lead the way into that brave new world.
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“The office of the vice president is the perfect place to call forth the genius of our people to build a world equal to our power and our aspirations,” she said.
When Ms. Hubbard died on April 10 in Loveland, Colo., at 89, her vision of a newly vital vice presidency remained unrealized. But her ideas, books and lectures had reached countless seekers looking to clarify their purpose and expand their consciousness.
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Peter Hubbard, a grandson, said she died after a brief illness.
Barbara Marx Hubbard's Vice-Presidential Nomination Speech in 1984CreditCreditVideo by HumanitysTeam
Ms. Hubbard was a frequent speaker at seminars and conventions organized by groups like the World Future Society, and her 1998 book, “Conscious Evolution: Awakening the Power of Our Social Potential,” is a core text among those who think the human race is on the brink of an enhanced way of existing.
“Conscious evolution is occurring in our generation because we are now gaining an understanding of the processes of nature: the gene, the atom, the brain, the origin of the universe, and the whole story of creation from the big bang to us,” she wrote. “We are now changing our understanding of how nature evolves; we are moving from unconscious evolution through natural selection to conscious evolution by choice.
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“With this increased knowledge and the power that it gives us,” she continued, “we can destroy the world or we can participate in a future of immeasurable dimensions.”
Barbara Suzanne Marx was born on Dec. 22, 1929, in Manhattan. Her father, Louis, founded Louis Marx & Company, a leading toymaker.
“By the time I was 6 years old,” Ms. Hubbard said in “American Visionary,” a recent documentary about her directed by Karen Everett, “I had so many toys that I learned one big lesson: More toys cannot make us happy.”
Her mother, Irene (Saltzman) Marx, died of cancer when Barbara was a teenager; her father, with his self-made-businessman ethos, was a strong influence.
Ms. Hubbard was among the speakers at “A Call to Conscious Evolution: Our Moment of Choice,” an event at the University of California, Los Angeles, in 2010.
CreditVivien Killilea/WireImage, via Getty Images
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Ms. Hubbard was among the speakers at “A Call to Conscious Evolution: Our Moment of Choice,” an event at the University of California, Los Angeles, in 2010.
CreditVivien Killilea/WireImage, via Getty Images
“I had asked my father, who was completely areligious, ‘What religion are we?’ ” she recalled in the documentary. “ ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘you’re an American. Do your best.’ ”
The atomic bombing of Japan that ended World War II made a stark impression on Barbara when she was a teenager, she said: It underscored the truth that the human race had attained the ability to wield enormous technological power that could be either beneficial or destructive — or both.
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“The first major question to shape my life was, ‘What is the meaning of all our new power in science, industry and technology that’s good?’ ” she said.
She graduated from Bryn Mawr College in 1951. That same year she married Earl Hubbard, an artist she had met in 1949 while in Paris. They settled in Connecticut and had five children, but Ms. Hubbard was not content with fitting into the suburban-housewife mold of the day.
She began reading the works of the philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who wrote about the further evolution of the human race; worked with Jonas Salk and the future-oriented Salk Institute; developed an interest in space exploration; and more.
Her marriage ended in the 1970s, a casualty of her increased activity in these areas, which included founding an organization she called the Committee for the Future. She also took to organizing “synergistic convergence conferences,” or Syncons, at which representatives of disparate groups would exchange perspectives and ideas.
From 1972 to 1976 she organized 25 such conferences. One brought together members of Los Angeles street gangs, police officials, crime victims and more. “All participants met as equal members of the community,” she wrote in “Conscious Evolution,” “trying to work out something together.”
A pivotal moment in Ms. Hubbard’s life came in 1966, when she had a particularly strong spiritual vision.
“In a flash, I was catapulted into the future, and I could see a few frames ahead in the movie of creation,” she said. She saw human knowledge and social systems meshing into a positive, empathetic force.
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“What Christ and all the great beings came to earth to reveal is, We’re one, we’re whole, we’re good, we’re universal,” she said, an insight that came with the message “Go tell the story, Barbara.”
Her eldest son, Wade, died in 2008, and her longtime partner, Sidney Lanier, died in 2013. She is survived by a son, Lloyd; three daughters, Woodleigh Hubbard, Suzanne Hubbard and Alexandra Morton; two sisters, Jacqueline Barnett and Patricia Ellsberg; a brother, Louis Marx Jr.; a half brother, Curtis Marx; eight grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren.
Though many of Ms. Hubbard’s ideas were somewhat esoteric, one that she expressed in the 1984 address to the Democratic National Convention involved a very practical rebranding.
“Eighty percent of our scientific and technological genius is focused on killing,” she said.
“We must bring together the genius now focused in the War Room in a Peace Room in the White House,” she continued. “Its purpose will be to defeat the real enemies of humanity: hunger, disease, illiteracy, poverty and war.”

Monday, May 6, 2019

A01007 - Monir Farmanfarmaian, Iranian Artist

Monir Farmanfarmaian, 96, Dies; Artist Melded Islam and the Abstract

The artist Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian with one of her works in 1975. She emerged as a key actor in the worldwide development of abstract art in recent years.CreditJack Manning/The New York Times
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The artist Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian with one of her works in 1975. She emerged as a key actor in the worldwide development of abstract art in recent years.CreditCreditJack Manning/The New York Times
Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian, an Iranian artist whose mirror-encrusted geometric compositions drew on both Islamic architecture and the abstractions of the postwar New York avant-garde, died on April 20 in Tehran. She was 96.
The death was confirmed by a grandson, Aziz Isham.
Ms. Farmanfarmaian (pronounced far-mahn-far-MY-ahn) emerged as a key actor in the worldwide development of abstract art in recent years, as curators of American and European museums began to map a global history of postwar painting and sculpture.
Her art ranged from decorous early floral painting to stern, memory-haunted collages. But her most compelling works were polygonal wooden forms, sometimes free-standing and sometimes mounted on the wall, that were covered in thousands of precisely cut small mirrors. She made her first such work in 1969, and soon was producing hexagon-shaped reliefs festooned with mirrors that fractured viewers’ reflections into uncanny multiples.
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By her 80s, she was working at architectural scale, producing multipart compositions of polygons covered in mirrors and painted glass, which married the exuberant splendor of Iranian decorative arts with the repeated forms of minimalism and geometric abstraction. Ms. Farmanfarmaian also made intricate drawings whose interlocking circles and hexagons translated the tropes of Islamic decorative arts into a realm of pure form.
Ms. Farmanfarmaian had her first comprehensive exhibition, “Infinite Possibility,” in the United States at the Guggenheim museum in New York in 2015.CreditTodd Heisler/The New York Times
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Ms. Farmanfarmaian had her first comprehensive exhibition, “Infinite Possibility,” in the United States at the Guggenheim museum in New York in 2015.CreditTodd Heisler/The New York Times
Where some theorists of abstraction in Europe and the United States sought to purge painting of all ornament and historical lineage, Ms. Farmanfarmaian produced an abstract art proud of its debts to local architecture, interior design and contemporary fashion. Some were gaudy, and none were afraid of kitsch: Her mirrored spheres of the 1970s could function as disco balls.
New Yorkers discovered her accomplishment in a 50-year retrospective, organized by the Museu de Serralves in Porto, Portugal, that toured to the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in 2015 — seven decades after she first arrived in the city.
In a life marked by migration and revolution, spent between Iran and the United States, Ms. Farmanfarmaian befriended countless artists, notably Milton Avery, Andy Warhol and Frank Stella. She hosted salons at her Tehran home — inviting poets and artists to debate the state of Persian culture over abgoosht, a simple lamb stew — and later at her New York penthouse. She collected her friends’ art as well, though most of her collection was lost after the Iranian Revolution of 1979.
Yet for all her cosmopolitanism, Ms. Farmanfarmaian never sought to dissociate her abstractions from the history, geography and society of Iran. As she told the Art Newspaper in 2014, at the inauguration of a museum in Tehran devoted to her work, “My love for my culture is in everything I create.”
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A detail of Ms. Farmanfarmaian’s reflective art at her 2015 Guggenheim exhibition.CreditTodd Heisler/The New York Times
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A detail of Ms. Farmanfarmaian’s reflective art at her 2015 Guggenheim exhibition.CreditTodd Heisler/The New York Times
Monir Shahroudy was born on Jan. 13, 1923, in Qazvin, a city in northwest Iran. Her mother, Fatemeh, was an Ottoman aristocrat. Her father, Bagher, who founded Qazvin’s first school for girls, was elected to Parliament in 1932 and moved the family to Tehran.
In her teens Monir enrolled at the University of Tehran, where she studied fine arts, but she found the faculty stultified. She dreamed of Paris, but World War II put that city out of reach. So in 1944 she sailed first to India and then, on an American warship, to Los Angeles. From there she traveled cross-country to New York, which, after a three-month journey, struck her as unimpressive.
“For the sheer scale of big-city bustle and the impact of the strange and exotic,” she wrote in her autobiography, “A Mirror Garden,” in 2008, “New York could hardly compete with Bombay.”
In New York, Ms. Farmanfarmaian studied fashion illustration at the Parsons School of Design, worked on her English, danced with Martha Graham’s company and soon fell in with the artists at the Eighth Street Club, where Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning and others debated the course of abstraction, and at the Cedar Tavern, where they continued the debate over liquor.
The artist’s “Recollections I” was on display at Sotheby’s in London last year (observed here by a Sotheby’s employee).CreditChris J Ratcliffe/Getty Images for Sotheby's
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The artist’s “Recollections I” was on display at Sotheby’s in London last year (observed here by a Sotheby’s employee).CreditChris J Ratcliffe/Getty Images for Sotheby's
“I was not drinking; I was a good Muslim at that time,” she recalled in an interview in 2015. “Now,” she added with a laugh, “I’ve become very bad.”
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In 1950 she married Manoucher Yektai, a fellow Iranian artist, and had a daughter, Nima, with him. The couple divorced in 1953, and Ms. Farmanfarmaian took a day job at the department store Bonwit Teller (where her drawing of a bouquet of Persian violets, done before she went to work for the store, wound up adorning its shopping bags).
Among her colleagues there was a young Warhol, with whom she collaborated on the store’s newspaper advertisements and gossiped over picnic lunch breaks. They remained friendly for decades. When Warhol died in 1986, a sculpture of hers — a mirror-flecked ball she had given to him when he went to Iran to paint Empress Farah Pahlavi — was sitting on a table in his living room.
In 1957 she married Abol Bashar Farmanfarmaian, a lawyer and scion of one of Iran’s most powerful families and a descendant of the Qajar princes who ruled in the late-18th and 19th centuries. Later that year the couple returned from New York to Tehran, which was then one of the most vibrant art capitals of the Middle East; the first Tehran biennial would take place in 1958, and Persian artists of the 1960s were drawing on local and international influences in the service of a secular modern art.
Ms. Farmanfarmaian at the Guggenheim. For all her cosmopolitanism, she never sought to dissociate her abstractions from the history, geography and society of Iran.CreditTodd Heisler/The New York Times
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Ms. Farmanfarmaian at the Guggenheim. For all her cosmopolitanism, she never sought to dissociate her abstractions from the history, geography and society of Iran.CreditTodd Heisler/The New York Times
She traveled extensively, visiting the ruins of Iran’s previous empires and collecting vernacular illustrative artworks known as coffeehouse paintings. She also kept in contact with American artists. In 1966, during a visit to Shiraz with the minimalists Robert Morris and Marcia Hafif, she entered the Shah Cheragh mosque and watched pilgrims wail and chant in front of the mirrors festooning its walls and central dome.
“I cried, too,” she later remembered, “because of all the beautiful reflections. I said to myself, ‘I must do something like that.’ ”
Her mirrored works drew also on the architecture of Safavid palaces, whose walls were decorated with mosaics made of thousands of shards of mirrors cut into tessellated triangles and hexagons. Though informed by religious or mystical designs — she noted that the hexagon was “a polygon associated with heaven in the Islamic pantheon” — her art was above all a study of forms, perceptions and light.
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Sol LeWitt had his square, and it was wonderful how far he went with the square,” she said of the American artist in an interview with the curator Hans Ulrich Obrist for a 2011 catalog. “For me everything connects with the hexagon. And the hexagon has the most potential for three-dimensional sculpture and architectural forms.”
Ms. Farmanfarmaian and her husband were in the United States when the Iranian revolution began. The couple lost most of their belongings, and they spent several years bouncing among apartments until finding a Fifth Avenue penthouse that was going cheap, thanks to the previous tenant’s connection to a grisly murder.
“There was nothing I could do except listen to the bad news from Iran — ‘Khomeini is coming, Khomeini is coming’ — and I just sat in front of the television doing calligraphy with a marker,” she told Mr. Obrist. While in exile she also created her lesser-known “Heartache” boxes, incorporating family fabrics and heirlooms into downcast assemblages.
In 2004, widowed, Ms. Farmanfarmaian returned to a transformed, traffic-choked Tehran and threw herself back into the mirror sculptures, working now with a large workshop of artisans who could scale up her maquettes into ravishing architectural projects.
The capital today is home to a museum of her art, associated with the University of Tehran, which opened in 2017. It is known simply as the Monir Museum, a testament to her stature even in the Islamic Republic, but also a quiet derogation of the name Farmanfarmaian, with its evocations of the old regime.
She is survived by her daughters Nima Isham and Zahra Farmanfarmaian; five grandchildren; and four great-grandchildren.
The mirrored surfaces of her art, and the multiple perspectives and reflections they afford, stand to some degree as a symbol of Ms. Farmanfarmaian’s rich life. In 2015, on the occasion of her Guggenheim show, she told a reporter for The New Yorker:
“Each of these forms has thousands and thousands of ways to see it. Mirrors are a reflection of anything and everything. You become part of that mirror. It is communication — the mirror and yourself, the piece of art and yourself.”