Smithsonian.com

The memorial is a linchpin in the study of art history and architecture. For every battle or miracle, martyr or hero, tragedy or victory, a commemorative monument of some kind exists to mark the event or principle.

Merely taking account of one kind of memorial—the obelisk—allowed Glenn Weiss of Aesthetic Grounds to come up with almost a dozen examples of such monoliths off the top of his head, and those comprised only a small percentage of the ones out there in the wide world. Think of your last trip to Rome. There’s an obelisk in every piazza of city. It is no wonder even locals get lost with such a multitude of similar landmarks.

In contrast, some of the paintings and sculptures pegged to 9/11 have been surprisingly varied in form, subject, and treatment. As a rule, I find this theme somewhat macabre and murky in and of itself. But in spite of that I kept loose tabs on what was being shown (Aesthetic Grounds is a good place to start if you are interested in finding what kind of 9/11 artwork is out there) and found a couple of works that might have enough substance to truly reckon with the facets of this tragedy.

Eric Fischl’s Tumbling Woman is one that sunk its teeth into my psyche. Robert Gober’s installation at Matthew Marks in Chelsea was both anguished and disturbing.

Memorializing is arguable one of the strongest of human impulses. But the commonality of this impulse sometimes leads to art that is formulaic rather than expressive. Memorial as art should be held to the same rigors and high expectations as any other work. Those events and individuals we remember demand it.

What are art collectors to do when they’ve filled up their walls? Try the ceiling.

Chandeliers created by artists and designers are the buzz of the London Design Festival, which runs through September 25. The exhibition of lighting designs at Royal Festival Hall, the festival’s hub, was curated by the auction house Phillips de Pury and includes the work of Gaetano Pesce, Fredrikson Stallard and Michael Anastassiades.

Pesce’s Mediterraneo (above, left) has the buoyancy of a sea anemone. The chandelier’s phosphorescent effect is created by the LEDs that illuminate its 12,000 crystals in a shifting palette of cool tones. “Pandora,” designed by Stallard, is reminiscient of the exploded installations of artist E.V. Day. With the help of computer-controlled servo motors, his chandelier is continually broken apart and put back together again, a crystal Humpty Dumpty.

It’s no coincidence of course that the sponsor behind the exhibition (as well as of the entire festival) is Swarovski. The Austrian company that has made itself a difficult-to-pronounce household name as an upmarket Bedazzler is getting serious about chandeliers and recently announced that it will expand its chandelier design efforts into a wholesale division.

The new London-based division will be known as Crystal Palace, the name originally assigned to Swarovski’s limited-distribution chandelier collaborations with such artists, designers, and architects as Ron Arad; Hussein Chalayan; Diller, Scofidio & Renfro; everyone’s favorite designing brothers (Campana and Bouroullec); and Yves Behar (whose Morpheus, above right, premiered at the Salone Internazionale Del Mobile in April).

The company began its chandelier collaborations in 2002 as “a revolutionary concept aimed at reinventing and revitalizing the chandelier,” according to Swarovski. “Steeped in history and heritage, redolent of 18th century splendour and candlelit intrigue, the chandelier was frozen in time, undiscovered by the design community.”

Now the focus is bringing all that splendour and intrigue to a wider audience. According to a recent article in Women’s Wear Daily, prices will range from $3,000 for a Tord Boontje Mini Blossom chandelier to $1 million for a one-off piece by Pesce.

This weekend in Washington, D.C. the John F. Kennedy Center hosted a few evenings of “light” art by Jenny Holzer. Continuing her current series of words projected in the form of light onto landscapes and architecture, “For the Capitol” featured quotes projected across the Potomac onto the greenery of Roosevelt Island.

Saturday evening, the Kennedy Center terrace was filled with art lovers of all walks, from sneaker-wearing college students to couture-clad opera aficionados on intermission from La Boheme. The atmosphere was one of easy community and quiet attention, as the words, letters as tall as the trees, scrolled from the water to the sky. There were occasional cries of exclamation as a particular phrase rang true. In one of the more heartwarming displays of art education in action, a father helped his young daughter sound out the words as she sat on his shoulders.

The projections started at dusk and continued to midnight, painting the trees and curious watercraft with quotes gleaned from the writings and speeches of Presidents John F. Kennedy and Theodore Roosevelt. The phrases, which looped for nearly three hours, were chosen by Holzer and her research assistant, David Breslin, for their contemporary relevance. They included ideas about peace, world conflict, patriotism, diplomacy, government actions, presidential responsibilities, the environment, the common man and the role of artists in society. The physical movement of the scrolling words augmented their emotionally moving power.

Holzer’s publicity material quotes President John F. Kennedy, on artists: “I see little of more importance to the future of our country and of civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist. If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.”

I concur.

A flurry of shows and exhibits will soon touch down for the fall, and some will stay through winter.

Summer had a few gems (the Louise Nevelson show at the Jewish Museum was an unexpected delight), but also some duds (note to the Whitney: featuring a show called “Summer of Love” will succeed only if you pass out acid to go along with the psychedelic theme; if not—it is a no-go). So I’m looking forward to cutting my teeth on the up and comers.

A few that should be worth a trip, and will hopefully stand up to any hype thrown their way:

At the Power Plant in Toronto, “Francesco Vezzoli: A True Hollywood Story!” uses the fictitious remake of a film about Marlene Dietrich as an opportunity to explore the artist’s career-long obsession with celebrity.

“Global Feminism Remix” at the Brooklyn Museum is devoted to feminist contemporary art and is a solid riff on the previous exhibition of the same name.

The art history student in me is thrilled with the Wadsworth Atheneum’s “Faith & Fortune” exhibition, because it means the return of so many sumptuous Old Masters’ paintings to the museum after years of being shown abroad.

Is 2007 the year of the glass house?

Philip Johnson’s New Canaan stunner reopened to the public in April, and tours for this year promptly sold out (console yourself with a video tour and book now for 2008!). Frank Gehry has a cloud-like glass building in the works for Bernard Arnault and his Louis Vuitton Foundation for Creation.

Meanwhile, a recent article in the New York Times featured Nicolai Ouroussoff’s sprawling feature on “The Best House in Paris,” Pierre Chareau’s 1932 Maison de Verre (pictured above), purchased last year and painstakingly restored by American financier Robert Rubin (who we learn enrolled in Columbia’s graduate school of architecture at age 48 and worked as a teaching assistant to architectural historian Kenneth Frampton).

“The house has been compared to a Surrealist artwork, a theater stage, and an operating room,” notes Ouroussoff, who concludes that it’s “above all, an exquisite machine.” And he should know, because he got to live there with his girlfriend for a few days this summer, fulfilling both a personal fantasy and that of a chorus of editors.

After Ouroussoff and friend get settled with the help of a housekeeper (“Light switches. Check. Bathrooms. Check. Where to hang our clothing. Check.”), we learn of the house’s Duchampian division into male and female realms, its elasticity, and the ability to transform the mood of the entire place with the flick of the outdoor floodlight switches. In short, it’s pretty much perfect: “the perfect balance between the need for companionship and solitude, a utopia of the senses.”