Bulldog Art Tours 2025

Sometimes when you stare at something for long enough, it stops being what it’s supposed to be. This is exactly what happened the first time I saw Dale Chihuly’s Persian Wall. At first, it just hit me—a wave of crimson and blue. But the more I stared at the piece, the more it started to shift, as if the glass was changing before my eyes. Dale Chihuly calls the glass in the Persian Wall “sea forms”, inspired by the natural curves and fluidity of ocean life. But the light that filters through this blown glass is what changes everything. 

Chihuly chose the colors crimson and blue not in reference to KU’s colors, but to reflect nearby artworks that were already on display. The crimson and blue disks don’t just sit on the wall, they glow. They throw reflections across the gallery, rippling like water or heat waves, essentially turning the room into part of the sculpture itself. The more I watched these shifting reflections, the more my perspective on the piece started to change. It was no longer just a series of pretty colors and shapes. I began to see sound, frozen in place. Each rippling piece of glass appeared to be an echo from a song that’s just ended, in the same way a final note hangs in the air before it finally disappears.  

I began to hear a song, and somehow it was a song about me. The song starts softly. A low blue note, the color of hesitation. It’s the sound of doubt, the sound of fear. The blue glass represents the part of me that’s afraid of failure. It’s a hesitation that lingers while you stand on the edge of something new, when you’re unsure whether or not to take the leap. It says things like, “What if I mess things up?” Or “What if I’m not good enough?” But then just as the blue begins to fade, a sharp crimson note appears in its place. It's wild and urgent, like a fire igniting everything in its path. It sounds like the parts of me that dream bigger than where I can reach, the parts of me that dive into things even without thinking, even when I’m scared. As my eyes move along the wall, the colors crash together and the song moves back and forth between these two notes. That’s what makes this piece so alive, it moves even though it’s still. The Crimson and Blue then just begin to merge into one roaring crescendo. It’s the moment I decide to leap, even though I have no clue what’ll happen if I hit the ground. 

The song hits its climax, the point where it’s up to me to decide if I’m going to let fear hold me back or reach for the stars. Then, just like all songs, it fades.  The crimson softens, and the blue goes quiet, but just like a note that lingers, this song isn’t finished yet. It’s still playing somewhere in the background urging me to keep pushing, to keep dreaming. When I see Persian Wall, I don’t just see blown glass. I see a piece singing a song everyone walks through about the mix of fear and passion that drives us all. It’s a song that never truly ends, but it keeps pulling us forward, note by note. This is Dara Adedipe signing off with another Bulldog Art Tour.  

Morning in the Adirondacks is a beautiful landscape painting by Sandford Robinson Gifford, a 19th-century American artist and a key figure in the Hudson River School. Gifford was part of the second generation of this movement and was known for his luminism, a style that uses a soft, diffused light and calm reflections to create a sense of peace and clarity. In this work, Gifford captures the early morning light breaking over the Adirondack Mountains. The sun filters through layered clouds, casting a golden glow across the peaks. Below, a still lake reflects both the sky and the surrounding landscape like a mirror, adding to the painting’s deep sense of stillness and balance. There’s no trace of modernization, just nature in its purest form. What makes Gifford’s work so powerful is how familiar it feels. Even if you’ve never been to this place, it feels like a memory, like a peaceful vacation you've dreamed of but never taken. It’s quiet and timeless. Gifford’s painting invites us to reflect on a world that existed before industry and expansion, a landscape of timelessness, beauty, and balance. It's a visual reminder of what once was. 

Over the years, the amount of plastic that’s been used has massively increased. The artist of this piece, Frederick John Eversley, often experimented with casting various materials, like polyester, to make pieces of art like this. The use of polyester for this piece is somewhat… scary. What do you think of when you think of a lens? You thought of something glass, right? When you walk around Pale Lens, it warps the surroundings around you, just like any other lens. And yet, Pale Lens is entirely polyester. When I first learned this, it shocked me. I had assumed it was glass, as you thought just now. It made me start to think. Now, this is almost certainly not the intention of the piece, but I see Pale Lens as a reflection of how we’ve changed. The fact that the lens is pale in the first place reminds me of smog, of pollution. When I saw this Pale Lens at first, it didn’t mean much. But part of the chosen label text for the piece inspired my view of the art. It was a quote. “In product after product, market after market, plastics challenged traditional materials and won, taking the place of steel in cars, paper and glass in packaging, and wood in furniture.” And taking a step back, it’s true. On average, an American uses 562 pounds of new plastics every year, and they discard around half of it. Just think about this. What hasn’t plastic won against? Look around you. How many plastic things can you count? It’s likely you’ll count to a very, very high amount. Plastic, this material that’s terrible for the environment, has taken over our lives. Packaging, furniture, toys, cars, technology. It’s taken over even something as simple as a pale lens. This has been Kieren Cagle with another Bulldog Art Tour. 

The nuclear bomb – humanity’s greatest and worst invention. The piece Forge by one Robert Arnson is a testament to that. Created in 1984, this bronze sculpture depicts a scorched human head on an anvil. On the skull you can find engravings which together make up a majority of chemical ingredients within a nuclear bomb. Now beyond the basic anti-nuclear message, this piece is part of a series of sculptures that could only come from the mind of a truly disturbed man. Speaking of, let's talk about him. Robert was born on September 4th, 1930, during a time where wars were very different from our own. These wars were “honorable” and even the idea of modern weapons would have made people reel in horror. He spent most of his early life as a cartoonist for local papers before eventually pursuing art full time. Considered the father of the funk art movement focusing on the absurdity of everyday objects, Robert was rather successful in this field - his works giving him a very specific reputation. Examples include General Nuke, a deformed piglike man with a bullet for a nose. It was on a bust made of human bodies. Or Chemo 1 and Chemo 2, a duo of deformed humanoid busts made out of aged copper along with many other sculptures in this disturbing style. My interpretation of these pieces is of a man coping with time. Robert would have been fifteen when the first ever nuclear bomb was dropped, as well as being around the same age during the discovery of death camps. Throughout his life he would’ve lived through three different wars, World War Two, Korea, and Vietnam, in each of which thousands would have died. Along with huge leaps in technology across his life, he would see the world change - not just technologically but culturally with events like the civil rights movement. He likely felt similar to some people who live in remote locations and come back to society suffering from culture shock. These pieces are likely a method of portraying what he saw as the evils of this world or just an attempt to cope with it all. In conclusion, this piece is that of a man coping with time. This is KCA signing off, off with a bulldog art project. 

Every year in spring many people around the world celebrate Easter with eggs and candy and children hope that the Easter bunny will deliver goodies in the morning. In all this excitement, the real meaning behind Easter is often lost. The lost meaning of Easter is to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the events that took place in the final week of his life. This painting, titled Christ in Gethsemane, was created circa 1590-1605 in Italy by Jacopo Palma il Giovane. Jacopo Palma il Giovane has created many other paintings with roots in Christian stories. He was also known as Iacopo Negretti and Giacomo Palma il Giovane. He was born in Venice, Italy in 1544 and he died at the age of 88 on October 14,1628, also in Venice. Giovane painted in a period known as the High Renaissance. This period is known for its realistic depictions of various figures. There were many exceptional artists and paintings during this time. Some of the artists are Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci and some notable paintings include: The Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, and David. The dominant religion in Italy during this time was Christianity and more specifically Catholicism. Giovane paints Christ suffering in Gethsemane, pleading with an angel of the lord. In Luke chapter 22 verse 42 of the King James Bible, it says: “Saying, father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless, not my will, but thine, be done.” To me personally as a Christian, this painting is very significant and holds a lot of meaning. It shows Jesus taking on the sins of the world so that me and my family and friends can be forgiven and brought to heaven. There are many details in the painting Christ in Gethsemane. In the background you can see Judas leading the Roman soldiers to Jesus. You can see the moon hanging high above the trees casting an eerie glow over the forest. You can also see the apostles sleeping and Jesus communing with the angel of the lord. I believe that this painting can mean different things to many different people, but I found it as a very beautiful and interesting depiction of the Garden of Gethsemane and the events that happened there. In short, this painting is more than just some oil paint on a canvas. It is a beautiful representation of the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ. This has been another bulldog audio tour by Samuel Clarke. 

I chose this piece because I saw it and immediately thought that it would be easy to write about, it was simple, just something being represented wrong. I barely had to look at to think it was about something being made and then represented incorrectly through it being translated, hence the name Translated Vase, but I was so wrong, I was translating the piece wrong. I was the one misrepresenting the piece, I assumed a negative connotation to the piece. Though Yeesoukyung has spoken about this piece and has said that it was made with a positive meaning behind it, Translated Vase was meant to show how work that seemed like a failure or “bad” for one person, can be seen as a success or beautiful to someone else. In Korea, Yeesookyung's home country, traditional ceramicists spend all day creating these vases, and any time a mistake is made with the vase, the vase would be smashed and then thrown away. It would become trash. A potter smashes thousands of pots a month because they’ve “ruined them”. Now you may be starting to see where Yeesoukyung and I are going with this. Yeesoukyung saw the beauty in these pieces, she saw that these discarded, “inferior” shards and pieced them together, putting them in a new light. After learning this, my views on this piece changed, I thought about how these small imperfections “ruined” the entire piece, but after the vase was smashed, some shards were perfect, anyone could believe that it was just a regular vase that was smashed, one without any imperfections. And though the vase is clearly being broken, losing itself and no longer being able to be a pot, it now, in a way, is fuller, because now, when people see this shard, they’ll believe this is a shard from a complete and whole pot, what it could have been. Through this translation, it is found. This is what Yeesoukyung may have thought while piecing this vase together, filling the cracks with gold, instead of hiding the fact that the vase was ever smashed, or just smashing it again. She sees that the vases are more now that they would have ever been, a different vase completely. A vase covered with gold and all different patterns, in a museum instead of in the trash. Found in a way it never could have been without this translation. Translation can be needed and can complete something that isn't full. It can be the final piece. This is Hen Dickey with another bulldog art tour. 

Do you ever watch the news, expecting to see a fun story about a new baby elephant born at the zoo? Or a story of a heartwarming reunion after years apart? But instead, the headline says, “11 dead after mass shooting”. This has become the new reality in our world today. This is how Mouring Weaves, an art piece, came to be. Mourning Weaves was made in 2024 by Angela Hennsay with synthetic hair. Angela Hennsay is an Oakland based artist who survived gun violence in 2015 and later became a hospice volunteer. At that time, in 2024, nearly 41,000 people died of gun violence. Mourning Weaves may not look like much to a quick glance, after all the black braids blend in with the black background. But studying it unfolds a whole new layer of understanding.  

Mourning Weaves refers to weaving, or piecing together memories after experiencing something traumatic, like a death of someone you love.  This can be both physical, with a loom, or internal, with memories. This made me look at this piece differently, almost with a filter over it. It brought a whole meaning to the piece and story to think about. 

One of the first things I noticed though, was the different styles of braids. Some were thicker and some had intricate twisting designs. This made me think of how braiding is used in all different countries and cultures. It made me think of times I have traveled to somewhere away from the Midwest, like Mexico! In Mexico, I remember seeing lots of the same hairstyles, I later found out they were trenza braids. This made me think about the way cultures have adapted and created entirely new hairstyles, especially braids: French braids from Northern Africa, fishtail braids from ancient Athens, and box braids from South Africa. To me, this relates to Angela’s experiences with gun violence. In my eyes it demonstrates how deep gun violence resonated in the world, from all different countries and cultures. 

The next thing I noticed was the layout of the braids, it looks like a painting my grandma has in her stairway, an old family portrait. My grandma's portrait is in a huge wood carved frame, and all the people in it are straight faced. In the art, the braids are in a round, gold frame that is ornately carved, like a frame from the 17th century. The braids are lined up, looking like a family, all different heights, and all black. The black though, looked more like the family was wearing black, like at a funeral. To me, this represents how the community and family are affected by violence. 

So, when I look at this piece, it isn’t about hair, it’s a story, and it’s a protest. It’s telling whoever spares a glance, that gun violence, and violence as a whole, needs to be stopped. It’s telling that this violence is deeply rooted in all different parts of the world. And it’s warning about the effects it may have on the community and families exposed to it. 

So those are my thoughts on Mourning Weaves. This was Ellie from bulldog audio tours. 

Christ in Gethsemane is an oil painting by Jacopo Palma il Giovane. It was created from 1590 to 1605. Palma Giovane was a Venetian painter, born in 1544 and active during the late Renaissance. He created many religious works, including The Crucifixion and the piece we are discussing today- Christ in Gethsemane. This painting captures an important moment of Christianity. Jesus is shown praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, asking the Heavenly Father for strength. He said, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42.) The cup becomes the symbol of his crucifixion. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples: "Each of you drink from it, for this is my blood, which confirms the covenant between God and his people. It's poured out as a sacrifice to forgive the sins of humans." (Matthew 26:27-29).  

Palma places Jesus in the center of the painting, with bright light, and sharp outlines that make him stand out. I think this shows his perfection and his role as the light in our world. Meanwhile, his disciples; Peter, James, and John are seen sleeping in the shadows. To me, this represents the weakness and imperfection of humanity. In the background, you catch a glimpse of Judas and the guards approaching. They’re drawn with rough lines and fade into darkness, perhaps symbolizing evil and the coming betrayal.  

As a Christian, this painting is incredibly recognizable. I chose it because every year on Palm Sunday I hear the story of The Passion. Each time I experience it differently. Sometimes I see Jesus in sorrow and other times in full of resolve. I see this artwork capturing both the weight of what’s to come and the peace in his acceptance. But what stands out to me most is the hope. This moment doesn't just show fear or pain. It shows the beginning of salvation. Jesus willingly takes on our sins so that we can be free. This was Weston Graber with another Bulldog Podcast. 

The piece I chose is Navigating by Lisa Grossman. Originally from western Pennsylvania, Grossman earned an associate’s degree from the Art Institute of Pittsburgh and moved to Kansas City, Missouri, in 1988. She later became a painter and printmaker based in Lawrence, Kansas. Much of her work focuses on the open spaces and prairies of eastern Kansas and the Kansas River Valley. 

I chose this piece because it reflects who I am. I love nature, water, peacefulness, and sunsets—and this painting captures all of that. It shows a winding river with deep blue water, floating islands, and vast stretches of wilderness. Prairies and grasslands surround the river, and the horizon seems to stretch on forever, with the sun setting in the distance. It’s beautiful. 

To me, the painting sends a message of peace, calm, hope, beauty, and creativity. It also makes a deeper point: sometimes things look perfect and stunning from afar but become more ordinary or messy up close. From a distance, the artwork appears almost three-dimensional, with detailed islands and flowing water. But up close, the islands are just dark smudges, and the water is made of simple, rough blue strokes. This contrast makes the painting even more meaningful. 

When I look at this painting, I imagine myself sitting under a tree, watching the river flow, listening to the water, birdsong, and insects around me. I feel calm, centered, and inspired. 

I chose this piece because I love everything about it—it feels like a reflection of who I am. This is Ben Graham with another Bulldog audio tour.  

The Morning of the Adirondacks. Today we’re diving into The Morning of the Adirondacks, a breathtaking painting by Sanford Robinson Gifford, created in 1867. Gifford was a key figure in the Hudson River School, a group of artists known for their detailed and almost dream-like landscapes that celebrated the natural beauty of America. He used oil on canvas to bring life to the foggy skies, majestic mountains, and peaceful lakes of the Adirondack Mountains in New York. To bring this Painting to life, today I’m going to tell a story about living in the painting itself. Here we go. 

I wake up, I hear the early morning birds and smell the crisp mountain air. Yawning, I toss my covers aside. About 6 months ago, my family and I moved here as pioneer settlers, with every morning of this life feeling like an adventure. The green forests, sparkling lakes, and golden sunrises are something I’ve never imagined. “Sanford! Get dressed and help me chop some wood!” My dad calls. I quickly pull on my cotton and linen garments, lace up my leather boots and hurry outside. My dad”s already working hard when I get out there, chopping down trees for a new shed. I grab a piece of wood and split it in half. It’s tough work, but out here, it’s part of life. When we’re done, I run down to the lake, strip off my garments and dive into the chilly water. My reflection shines back up at me, shimmering like glass. I wash up, dry off with some leather skins and head back to the cabin. 

“Hey mom, what’s for breakfast?” I ask. She smiles, cooking eggs from our chickens and fresh elk loin my dad hunted last night. The elk sizzles on a hot stone above the fire, making my mouth water. “Tell your father to come in for breakfast,” she says. Soon, we’re all at the table and my sister is awaken-sharing a warm breakfast together. Afterward, we hike to the lake to meet other settlers for a big fishing trip. The trail winds through the fresh grass fields, the lake alive with families casting their lines. I shout with excitement as I catch my first fish of the day. By the end, we’ve caught nearly 20 fish, with plenty to bring home. That night, mom cooks up our catch and we sit together once again, full and happy. Life here is simple but beautiful. The freedom, nature, and the strong community make every day special. Our new log cabin keeps us warm, and there’s always fresh game and fish to enjoy. 

This is what I imagine living inside Gifford painting. This is what I think it would be like. Thanks for joining me today, I hope you thought of this painting in a new way with my story. This is Jake with another bulldog art tour. 

I have never found artwork that interesting, nothing has ever really caught my eye. But when I saw Franz Ludwig Catel’s Nuns in the Certosa Cloister, Overlooking a Moonlit Sea Towards the Faraglioni, Capri, it immediately grabbed my attention, and I realized I had to talk about it. The artist, Franz Ludwig Catel, had worked many jobs in his life regarding art. He had started his artistic career by carving wood, then moved on to illustrating books. He then started watercolor paintings and would go on to expand his artistic talent. Now back to the painting at hand, Nuns in the Certosa, which was made in about 1823, caught my eyes because at first glance it looks so simple. It has beautiful colors and brush strokes that made me feel somewhat excited to look at this painting, but if you look left to right you will notice some small stuff. At the far left you see an open door with light shining from it, almost giving off good and happy vibes. But as you look across the painting you find many different details.  Whether it be an opened door with light shining out of it, or a nun walking, possibly coming from that opened door. Yet we can’t fully tell what she feels or what happened, could she have been castigated or maybe praised but the main thing is the mystery of it all. Then we have the nun on the far right seemingly sad or just tired, but you don’t know how she actually feels, you just have to guess. That is what pulled me into the painting, with its beautiful colors and scenery but look a little longer and notice these small details that just make you wish this was a movie or a book so you know what’s happening or how it's going to end. But I realized that art isn’t just a start and an ending. It’s whatever you want to perceive it as. This has been Spencer with another bulldog art tour. 

I have never found artwork that interesting, nothing has ever really caught my eye. But when I saw Franz Ludwig Catel’s Nuns in the Certosa Cloister, Overlooking a Moonlit Sea Towards the Faraglioni, Capri, it immediately grabbed my attention, and I realized I had to talk about it. The artist, Franz Ludwig Catel, had worked many jobs in his life regarding art. He had started his artistic career by carving wood, then moved on to illustrating books. He then started watercolor paintings and would go on to expand his artistic talent. Now back to the painting at hand, Nuns in the Certosa, which was made in about 1823, caught my eyes because at first glance it looks so simple. It has beautiful colors and brush strokes that made me feel somewhat excited to look at this painting, but if you look left to right you will notice some small stuff. At the far left you see an open door with light shining from it, almost giving off good and happy vibes. But as you look across the painting you find many different details.  Whether it be an opened door with light shining out of it, or a nun walking, possibly coming from that opened door. Yet we can’t fully tell what she feels or what happened, could she have been castigated or maybe praised but the main thing is the mystery of it all. Then we have the nun on the far right seemingly sad or just tired, but you don’t know how she actually feels, you just have to guess. That is what pulled me into the painting, with its beautiful colors and scenery but look a little longer and notice these small details that just make you wish this was a movie or a book so you know what’s happening or how it's going to end. But I realized that art isn’t just a start and an ending. It’s whatever you want to perceive it as. This has been Spencer with another bulldog art tour. 

When I first saw this piece of art at the Spencer Museum of Art, to be honest, I just merely glanced at it and walked away. You might be wondering, what is so special about this piece? It’s just a normal landscape painting with a mountain, some pine trees, and a little hut with two people sitting in it, right? That’s what I thought when I first looked at it, but I actually think it holds a much deeper meaning behind. Growing up in a Chinese household, I recognize the importance of preserving cultural heritage through many forms of art.  

Secluded Life in a Pine Valley by Wu Jingting does just this. It captures the tranquil world of natural beauty and quiet reflection through landscape painting while also honoring Chinese culture. He was born in 1904 in Shaoxing which is in the Zhejiang Province of China and started studying painting at the age of seventeen by imitating the Qing professional painter Wang Hui. The peak of his career was in 1958 when he was selected as one of the founders of the Beijing Academy of Art.  

The scene is dominated by tall, graceful pine trees, symbols of resilience and endurance in Chinese culture, which stand amidst mist-covered mountains and rolling hills. The roughly constructed hut symbolizes a secluded and simple life, which has long been regarded as an ideal way of life by Chinese scholars. It also contains a sample of Chinese calligraphy in the top left corner which has been around for nearly 3,000 years, first seen in inscriptions made for the rulers of the Shang dynasty from 1600-1100 BC. The inscription shows us that it was created for the birthday of Mr. Zhongyan, who is seated in the hut with a friend while another friend carrying a lute comes to join them. 

Several cultures around the world are facing the threat of disappearance due to factors like globalization, assimilation, and environmental changes. Some examples include the Huaorani people of the Amazon, the Pygmies of Africa, and the Kalash people of Pakistan. If we all come together and do our part to preserve the many different cultures and we can provide a sense of identity, heritage, and understanding of the world for the next generation. This is Ruby Jiang with another Bulldog art tour. 

What happens when you have a unique perspective on an even more unique thing? Well- this painting provides perfect insight into that question- as well as proving that despite cultural differences- we can still show our appreciation for an art form that might not resemble our own.  

Zen Temple of Techno is an awe-inspiring oil painting- standing at nearly 7 feet tall, this beautifully rendered artwork captures the New York-based techno musician Julia Govor as an amalgamation of Buddhist statues and temples. The artist Du Kun grew up in the city of Suining, China. Born in 1982- he spent a good part of his early years during a quote “transformative era,” of Chinese culture- where traditional Buddhist values and Western ideals heavily impacted nearly all forms of media. According to Du Kun, his various works as well as the one standing before you, were all made to push the idea of freedom, democracy, and critical thinking. By combining his spiritual values with contemporary concepts of art and music, he was able to create pieces such as this.  

When I first saw this piece in person I was surprised at the detail, being able to make out the immaculate wooden carvings on the railings and walls of the structures really amazed me. It got me thinking about how long he must have spent rendering the piece, after all any of the paintings I’ve made have taken hours and they aren’t even a fraction of the size as this one! At first, I thought it might’ve been depicting some sort of religious figure or symbol like a representation of Mother Nature or our planet. So of course, I was surprised when I realized that it was a portrait of a techno musician. The blend of cultural and religious ideals truly was fascinating; I would’ve never thought to combine two seemingly separate concepts. To me the choice of making her hair almost rootlike symbolizes how strongly nature is connected to us as well as showing that we are always sprouting new thoughts and ideas, letting them grow until they surround us. The mood of the painting feels almost grand but somehow also free and calm, with the birds soaring high above the water it makes me feel hopeful like maybe there are new horizons to reach the sunrise and whisky purple clouds contrast well with the rocky and green island, pulling together to create a magnificent culmination of not just nature, but color.  

All in all, the painting Zen temple of techno is proof that unfamiliar concepts and ideals can coexist in beautiful ways creating something new and inspiring for us all to look at and think  “maybe these things aren't so different after all.” This was Ginny Kammerer with another Bulldog Podcast. 

Death is something all of us will inevitably experience, and the fear of said event is present among everyone. The piece We Who Are About to Die by artist William Fleming immediately came to my attention, due to the bold statement on the Artwork. Repeating the title, “We Who Are About to Die” in a truly creepy text, stands out in a crowd of unique art. It depicts a classic prison room, with a window and table with letters on it. 

 The artwork is about a married couple, where the husband named David went up the stairs to ask his wife a question. There were screams heard and David ran back down, wife in his arms saying, “My wife is dead, she’s dead.” Afterwards facing three criminal trials. I thought this was super interesting, being the inspiration behind the creation of this piece.  

Although the obvious interpretation of this artwork is impending death and imprisonment, what I thought it meant was something more similar to isolation. The room depicted is almost empty and very restrictive. And after thinking about times where I felt isolated, I eventually reminisced about the Covid-19 pandemic. And although the art was made in the 1940s, you can kind of picture a modern room with a view of things that seem so close but so far away at the same time. Which I would like to think was mine in 2020, sitting there at my desk mindlessly staring at my computer and attempting to socialize by text. You can see the letters which represent the equivalent of texting in the 1940s and I wonder that the isolation that I and many others felt during the time is similar to that of being in prison.  

I think that the absolutely horrible feeling of isolation could be referenced to death and being imprisoned in this piece. And you’re probably saying there is no way you could ever compare isolation to death. And you’re right: you can’t, but I think the point the artwork could get across still symbolizes the importance of our connection with other humans, and how our society is built upon that. This has been Sabi with another Bulldog Art Tour.  

When you first look at Aylan and Others, it looks innocent. When I first saw this ceramic sculpture, I thought of a sleepover. You can see the mess, but you know that the chaos is joyful, with the pile of shoes showing you how many people are surrounding you with joy. Sadly, this is not the case, as this ceramic sculpture has a much sadder backstory. Aylan and Others was made in response to the tragedy of Alan Kurdi. 

Aylan Kurdi was a Syrian toddler who drowned in the Mediterranean Sea when his family was trying to cross from Turkey to Greece in 2015. His body was found on a Turkish beach, and a photo of his body circulated the internet. He quickly became a symbol for the European refugee crisis and was a call for reform. 

Zehra Cobanli made this ceramic sculpture in 2015, with many different shoes to represent the children who have been lost to the refugee crisis. As you look across the ceramic sculpture, notice the variety of shoes, some looking more expensive than others. Çobanlı wanted to represent a need for peace among the different social classes. The title recalls the shore where Kurdi’s body was first found. 

The artist, Zehra Çobanlı, is from Turkey. She teaches at Ankara University and is in the ceramics department. When she found out about Aylan Kurdi, she made the ceramic sculpture you are looking at now. 

When I look at this ceramic sculpture it makes me think about the life that Aylan Kurdi missed out on. He could have been an athlete, a musician, an artist. If it wasn’t for the horrendous acts that made his family flee, what would Aylan’s life be like today? He would be around 13 years old now. He would be in 7th grade. He never experienced Covid-19, something that has affected almost every aspect of our lives. He was only one of thousands of kids that lost their lives to the violence. He was just the boy who was found, photographed, and blasted across the internet. Would he have even wanted that? How would he feel being the child who was found dead on the shore of the Mediterranean ocean? Would he want to be the kid who was the reason a call for reform started? These are some of the questions that come to mind when I think about the tragedy of Alan Kurdi. As you look at this ceramic sculpture moving forward, think about the tragedy of Alan Kurdi, and the tragedy of all the children who have been lost to violence. 

This has been Alex Kaufman with another Bulldog Audio Tour. 

Imagine one thing, one thing that can defy what we deem undefiable. Well, the art piece Hanging in the Balance by Wendell Castle does exactly that. With an elegant bronze frame and a pillow crafted to meticulous detail from jelutong wood. This piece is truly a piece for adventurous people to experience. This piece was made in 2002, and it lies in the Spencer Museum of Art. Wendell Castle was an American craftsman who specialized in his elegant sculptures and furniture. He was born in Emporia, Kansas and died in Scottsville, New York. He attended the University of Kansas. Castle has many pieces in museums all across the world. From the Spencer Museum of Art to the Smithsonian Museum of American Art. I believe that Hanging in the Balance represents a fundamental exploration of balance in design. Castle originally was going through someone’s garage and found a pillow with a pole in it. Because he was a furniture designer, he decided what I could do to make it into a piece of art. The design includes a chair which is meticulously crafted to be upside down on one leg. When Castle was crafting this piece, he focused on a “voyage of discovery” and pushed what people could interpret as sculpture and furniture. I also believe that this piece resembles the Shanghai Museum of Art which looks like an upside-down pyramid. In my vision, this is not only a chair, but a piece of imagination and meaning. This chair shows us that if we believe it, it can be done. When Castle saw a chair in his imagination that was upside-down, he made it a reality. Castle also pushed the limits of what is both considered functional and considered art. In my eyes, Wendel Castle has used his imagination to what I consider to be the pinnacle of functional sculpting. I also believe that Castle was advocating for the world. Upside down is a sort of negative symbol as it could represent disruption and other problems. If problems or disruptions continue to affect our daily lives, then we may end up with an upside-down world with upside-down chairs. 

 This has been another bulldog podcast with Michael.

Lisa Grossman is an artist who enjoys painting vast open ideas like rivers, skies, and prairies. In her oil painting Navigating, she shows us a wide, peaceful view of a river, almost as if we’re floating above it, gazing far out into an open, black prairie. It is set at night, with the river glowing, drawing our attention to its color.  

At first glance, the river seems quiet and calm. But the longer you look, the more you might see, like how the river is full of sharp twists and sudden turns, almost like a snake winding its way through the open prairie. There’s a wandering sense of freedom, but also a sense of restriction, like how the river could flow anywhere, yet it’s like it’s being held to a path shaped by some invisible force. This makes me think of life, and how sometimes, we feel like we have endless potential, and we can really do anything, but other people’s expectations and doubts try to put us in a direction we don’t want to follow.  

Grossman’s use of brush strokes really helps tell that story even more. From far away, the painting appears smooth and elegant. The river looks peaceful, flowing effortlessly. But as you step closer, you start to see the truth behind it: bold uneven brush strokes, and large amounts of paint that almost pop off the canvas. This contrast made me realize how sometimes things in life look perfect from a distance, but up close, they’re messy and complicated. It’s a reminder that beauty and struggle often exist together, not just one or the other, both of them at the same time. 

One of the most powerful elements in the painting is the way the river seems to fade into dark, with half-black paint mixed with the color of the river. To me, this detail symbolizes the parts of life that get hard as we grow older, the messy parts we don’t always talk about. Yet even with all the twists, darkness, and hard moments in our path, the river will still continue to move forward. 

That’s what really sticks with me most about Grossman’s work. Her painting isn’t just about a river it really shows life itself. It's about how we navigate challenges, how we keep moving even when things don’t go as planned. Just like that river, we have to flow around obstacles, make tough turns, and sometimes go through darkness and struggle in our lives. But as long as we keep moving forward and we’re still on our path, that’s what matters. 

This has been another bulldog tour by Evan Mendenhall. 

The piece Navigating was painted by Lisa Grossman. A cool fact about Lisa, she actually lives here, here in Lawrence KS. I know right, It’s crazy. She also got her fine arts bachelor's degree here at KU. Now the painting. In this painting there is a river, that river is the Kansas river or the KAW, which goes through Lawrence KS. The artwork, Navigating, was made during 2018, so pretty recently. This piece makes me feel calm and peaceful. It’s also just truly the zenith of beauty. It makes me think of nature parks, forests, and all the fulgent beauties of nature. It's honestly the perfect bucolic setting. Anyway, thank you for listening. 

This has been another bulldog art tour by your host Owen Metz.  

Standing before Sunset on the Plains, painted in 1887, by Albert Bierstadt, we can feel the rawness of nature that has slipped away like the sunlight: a soft, glowing, bittersweet memory of what is forever lost but a reminder to slow down and notice; to notice the beauty that still remains and to hold onto it before it becomes only a memory. 

Born in Germany in 1830 but raised in Massachusetts, Bierstadt carried deep love for the natural world, and this is reflected in many of his paintings. During the height of his career in 1860-1870, he traveled around the U.S. on many expeditions where he sketched mountains, valleys and plains that only Americans could dream of. 

His paintings were inspired by the beauty of the American West. This is a common theme throughout several of his paintings. Furthermore, these paintings captured the mythical and limitless aspects of landscape–a place not to just exist but a place to really live. 

Tragically, due to industrialization, societal opinions on art changed and Bierstadt’s grand visions quickly became irrelevant as critics called his works “excessively dreamy”. By the time he created Sunset on the Plains, his bright future had already dimmed out. 

In addition to his emotional and financial struggles, he also coped with the worsening condition of his wife who developed tuberculosis and eventually died in 1893. Soon after, his artworks were gradually sold cheaply or didn’t sell at all, he declared bankruptcy just 2 years after his wife’s death. 

At this point the art world was moving even farther away from his style, so his works became less known, especially as he reached the final years of his life. He died in 1902 at the age of 72. 

Decades after his death, art critics and enthusiasts began to look at his works again and they didn’t just see a masterpiece, but they saw a vision. A vision which captured the beauty of a world at the edge of change and a work which carried the rawness of nature. Nature, something so fragile yet so powerful, something that was lost to industrialization, the true beauty becoming nothing more than a memory. 

Today, Bierstadt is recognized as one of the greatest artists of the American landscape not just due to his talent but because he understood nature’s fragility. Every tree, every cow, every blade of grass seems to carry a memory from a land untouched, a beauty unbroken and a reminder of how something so precious is so fragile. 

This has been Youngseok with another art tour. 

“Japan learned from the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that the tragedy wrought by nuclear weapons cannot be repeated and that humanity and nuclear weapons cannot coexist.”- Daisaku Ikeda- Buddhist philosopher, peacebuilder, educator, author and poet 

This work of art, called Forge, is both one of the best, and the worst, works of art I’ve ever seen. It depicts a scorched head on an anvil with engravings on it and is made entirely of bronze. Forge is a heavy piece about the very real threat of nuclear war, and was created by the father of funk art, Robert Arnson 

Robert Arnson was born on September 4,1930 and was fifteen when the first ever nuclear bomb was detonated, and seventeen when the Cold War started. He created lots of art protesting the political situations going on at the time. 

 I personally believe that the message is that war, nukes, and violence, are forged with death, you can have death without them, but you can’t have them without death. For example, if you look closely at it, you can see engravings on the head and anvil. The ones on the head include: the needed components for making a nuclear warhead, the things created by a nuclear explosion, and “I heart Oppenheimer” inside a heart. On the anvil there is a carved peace sign, and I think that these engravings are there for a reason: to emphasize the death that nukes could cause. 

 When Arnson started to become more and more famous and started to make more and more famous art, people started making similar art pieces, which started the funk art movement, which is why he is known as the father of funk art. Art that is protesting things is almost always uncomfortable to look at because it brings to life the grim reality of the situation. An example is another Arneson artwork: The Colonel is at itAgain, where the colonel is shown as an ork-like creature, with a missile as a nose. This is similarly protesting militaristic tactics used by the U.S at the time. 

As you can see lots of his art is about dystopic situations, I personally love art about dystopian situations. I kind of hate it too, but mostly love it, because there is always a story and emotion behind it. It makes me think about how close humanity has gotten to ending before, and what we’ve overcome, which is both the best and the worst part. For me, this piece is both extraordinary, and extraordinarily hard to look at. This has been Eli Peck with another Spencer art tour. 

Le Partage du Gateau or Dividing the Cake is a piece by Sam Ilus, visually showing the fighting that was in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Sam is 45 years old and was born in the DRC. In this painting, there is a cake shaped like the DRC in the middle of a crowd of people fighting. Each side of the crowd has different people, one with citizens of the DRC and the other with the people who want their resources. At the bottom of the foreground, the weaker people are getting trampled because of the greediness from the other people. Above the crowd of people, there is a man in camo looking through binoculars. In the air there are missiles and jets fighting. The cake is supposed to represent the nation's resources. Personally, I want a cake right now ‘cause I am hungry. But anyway, this whole painting feels like a warning, war with missiles and jets because of resources? That’s definitely happening again. On another note, this painting was created in 2013, making it 12 years old! This painting is older than my brother! When I look at this painting, I see a bunch of bright colors and when walking through this exhibit, this egregious painting stands out in the sea of black, gray, and white. To me this piece shows how war over resources can be troublesome, like the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990 or even the conflict between Russia and Ukraine, all of which were barely beneficial in the end.  

This has been Konrad Pedersen with another Bulldog art tour. 

What do you see when you see Jiayuan Mountain? At first, a mountain doesn’t come to mind. You may see a man with blue, flowy hair. He seems to have a hollow face. He looks to be almost alone or lost in a dark, stormy nowhere. He almost looks sad, but if you look closer, you can still see a man. But instead of being lonely, he seems to be calm. And even though his surroundings look to be stormy, he looks to be almost glowing. Almost as if he is in his own world. You also should see the fact that above his shoulders have the resemblance to an East Asian temple and below his shoulders as if a strong mountain. The closer you look, the more you see.  

The artist, Du Kun, is known for large-scale oil paintings that blend traditional Chinese landscapes with more modern, Western influences. He shocked the world with his Revels of the Rock Gods where he shows Chinese rock stars as if they are towering temples on top of a mountain. He wanted to explore the blend of Chinese culture and traditions and modern music. The series also reflects his values including freedom, democracy, critical thinking, and courage.  

In this painting, Du Kun painted Ou Jiayuan, founder and lead singer of rock band Soundtoy. The band is known for its abilities to tell stories and capture its listeners by its emotional melodies, which makes sense why you may see an emotional man. But, instead of being sad, he's lost in the music. Originally when I went to the Spencer Museum, I didn’t see Jiayuan Mountain because the museum doesn’t display this piece. Instead, I chose Zen Temple of Techno, but when I looked deeper into his work I was captured by the story I saw.  

I saw myself coming home from a long day. I put my headphones on and turn on my favorite songs, close my eyes, and let the music absorb me. I am focused on the music – the world could be stormy, but I wouldn't notice.  

The most fascinating fact is that Du Kun made nine paintings in Revels of the Rock Gods but somehow each time he made each one look distinctively different from the last. Thank you for listening, this Adriana Rowland with another Bulldog art tour.

Has anyone ever shushed you and gave you an unsettling look after? This art piece, Le Discret was made circa 1791 and is an oil painting. This piece of art is part of a series by Joseph Ducreux depicting different human emotions. Joseph Ducreux was a French artist during the late 1760s to the early 1800s leading up to his death in 1802. Joseph’s technique often included comedic and humorous expressions during portraits of others and even himself. During this time period, portraits expressing emotions were very rare, which is why Joseph Ducreux’s work was and still is notable. Some say he acquired his painting technique by portraitist, Maurice Quentin de La Tour, while some say different. Joseph actually drew the last portrait of Louis XVI (16) before he was killed in 1793. In this portrait you can see Joseph himself raising his finger to his lips telling the viewer to be quiet, right? Well when I see this picture I see a man telling a bystander to keep their mouth shut because it's a matter of life or death. What I mean by this is the man’s facial expressions. You can see how his forehead is all wrinkled, his eyes are popping out of his head, and his cheeks are flushed.  In the background of this portrait you can’t really see anything but an eerie and dark background which makes me think of an unsettling situation taking place inside. Anyone can decide on which “unsettling situation” is taking place but to me the background reminds me of a dark cellar located in a basement. The man is wandering out of the cellar after committing an unspeakable crime. There is a lot up to your imagination to finish the story, but this is why I chose this painting. It tells a story, but it is up to you to finish it.  

Thank you and this was another southwest bulldog art tour with Rose Viloria. 

You are looking at a piece that had hands reaching out of the wall - only hands, no other body part. It’s a rusty green color. This piece is Untitled by Anne Chun. I think that this piece not being named is iconic. Because this piece to me really describes a woman who is everyone's friend. A floater friend. Everyone’s fall-back friend. She is always reaching out and helping people, but they never look at anything else but her hands reaching out to help. “A friend to all is a friend to none” - Cardigan by Taylor Swift. Everyone is always taking her help, but they never reach for anything but her hands. They never try to know her face or her heart, only taking what’s good for them. Taking for granted her selflessness. Taking everything from her. 

If you look at the piece, you can see a few of the fingers have chipped at the top or broken. This represents the depth that these people take to please people. They break themselves and chip away, but they still reach out. They still give themselves to other people when there are not even enough of them to give to themselves. And no one takes the time to help them glue back themselves together. The chip just becomes bigger and bigger and bigger. Tell one day they are all gone, all chipped away, nothing is left for them to give.  

This piece reminds me of my Grandma Zimmerman. Also, my best friend. My role model. The person I'll always go to. She is always so selfless and doing things for others. She always cleans for people and always does the most for my family. But so many of my family members take it for granted and do not see how loving and selfless she is, but when my Grandma is gone, they will realize how much of a selfless and loving person she truly was. She truly represents this piece the way I imagine it. A selfless woman that just keeps on giving herself to other people telling there is nothing left of them. This is Miriam Zimmerman with another Bulldog art tour.