More London
John Haber
that I made a point in my 75 minutes in the National Gallery to hit
the Piero room and the Vermeers. It's overwhelming to be in that
institution for so short a time. I'd spent it all on the Renaissance
a couple of years ago, so this time I really did try to move on. I
got to Rembrandt, Caravaggio, Dutch churches, and Rubens landscapes
(must get that book on them by Christopher Brown), but not to the
great Dutch landscapes. I left just blown over.
You remember that Supper at Emmaus for the extraordinary gesture of
the apostle at right, arms outflung. You forget how anti-operatic it
is, especially compared to the Caracci's right next door. Faces
reveal so little, those arms frame off the picture plane and touch the
viewer, and the whole point of the scene is that Jesus revealed his
presence without a gesture or word, just by breaking bread (a nicely
painted roll indeed).
Alison took me back to the Cortauld. I don't even know what to do
more than list those amazing things -- the Cezanne blue landscape and
Still Life with Plaster Cast, Renoir's At the Loge, Manet's Bar.
Cezanne's puzzles, with the tree carefully setting the foreground but
then its branches blending into the far background, the still life's
endlessly colliding planes, look more both classical and Cubist to me
every time.
We had a blast at a show called Abracadabra at the Tate, after
swallowing more Turner's than anyone can fairly be asked to see, one
or two of them even wonderful! Like the Britpack, but international
in focus, it felt more like a carnival than a museum display. There
were stalls to enter, after waiting on line, to sit and listen to dull
stories. That was the carnival barker, I guess. There was a huge
foosball table (you'll have to guess who won) and a monopoly-like
game. There were video lectures on the human hand, the carnival's
patent medicine, no doubt. Some dresses were distinct from real
fashion in no-doubt tough-minded ways that a male is oblivious to.
The curator doesn't identify works by artist, except on a handout.
This has the air, I suppose, of dismantling the pre-pomo fascinating
with "bourgeois individualism" at the heart of fine art, but in
practice it mostly stressed the curator's ego and the room she
fashioned. Or perhaps it's like entering a university club, where
everyone knows each other except you. (I gather that's pretty much
the social condition of British art anyhow, unlike New York's strong
gallery system.) I left entertained but not convinced, and without
notes I have to say that I can't name for you a single artist.
Alison A Raimes
<jha...@haberarts.com> writes
>We had a blast at a show called Abracadabra at the Tate, after
>swallowing more Turner's than anyone can fairly be asked to see, one
>or two of them even wonderful!
That's so funny to hear you say we had a blast at Abracadabra ...... the
reason we laughed so much was our impersonations of Mani and what he
would have had to say, not because the show was good !
>Like the Britpack, but international
>in focus, it felt more like a carnival than a museum display.
The exhibition hand out reads: *Abracadabra* brings together an
international selection of fifteen contemporary artists who represent a
particular spirit in art at this millennium's end. This spirit is one of
optimism and play, of fantasy and imagination, even of magic, as the
title suggests. Although none of the artists in this exhibition presents
a heavy handed social agenda, this dimension is explicit in some and
implicit in others. Another crucial characteristic which these artists
share is that they address the real world and everyday life, and their
art is therefore further distinguished by its combination of the real
and the imaginative. This makes the work highly approachable and
engaging, in a number of instances literally so, where the artist
invites the visitor to participate.
>There
>were stalls to enter, after waiting on line, to sit and listen to dull
>stories. That was the carnival barker, I guess. There was a huge
>foosball table (you'll have to guess who won) and a monopoly-like
>game. There were video lectures on the human hand, the carnival's
>patent medicine, no doubt. Some dresses were distinct from real
>fashion in no-doubt tough-minded ways that a male is oblivious to.
>
Someone wrote the Bible from memory; another artist had a Japanese
businessman flying through space like superman (my favourite); and how
could you forget the rat ? A dead rat sitting slumped over the kitchen
table with a gun next to him. The table soccer was a lot of fun ....
didn't expect an American to win !
>The curator doesn't identify works by artist, except on a handout.
>This has the air, I suppose, of dismantling the pre-pomo fascinating
>with "bourgeois individualism" at the heart of fine art, but in
>practice it mostly stressed the curator's ego and the room she
>fashioned. Or perhaps it's like entering a university club, where
>everyone knows each other except you. (I gather that's pretty much
>the social condition of British art anyhow, unlike New York's strong
>gallery system.) I left entertained but not convinced, and without
>notes I have to say that I can't name for you a single artist.
Maurizio Cattelan (Italy); Patrick Corillon (Belgium); Eric Duyckaerts
(Belgium); Keith Edmier (USA); Marie-Ange Guilleminot (France); Emma Kay
(UK); Vik Muniz (Brazil); Paul Noble (UK); Fernando Sanchez Castillo
(Spain); Katy Schimert (USA); Pierrick Sorin (France); Momoyo Torimitsu
(Japan); Patrick Van Caeckenbergh (Belgioum); Xavier Veilhan (France)
and Brigitte Zieger (Germany).
Never heard of any of them ... has anyone else ?
--
Alison
mark webber
> Yet another report, this one for Mark. I thought he'd be thrilled
> that I made a point in my 75 minutes in the National Gallery to hit
> the Piero room and the Vermeers.
I'm honored by you and thrilled for you!
> It's overwhelming to be in that
> institution for so short a time. I'd spent it all on the Renaissance
> a couple of years ago, so this time I really did try to move on. I
> got to Rembrandt, Caravaggio, Dutch churches, and Rubens landscapes
> (must get that book on them by Christopher Brown), but not to the
> great Dutch landscapes. I left just blown over.
Yeah!
>
> You remember that Supper at Emmaus for the extraordinary gesture of
> the apostle at right, arms outflung. You forget how anti-operatic it
> is, especially compared to the Caracci's right next door. Faces
> reveal so little, those arms frame off the picture plane and touch the
> viewer, and the whole point of the scene is that Jesus revealed his
> presence without a gesture or word, just by breaking bread (a nicely
> painted roll indeed).
Jesus, John, you are starting to sound like a *painter*! I love it!
>
> Alison took me back to the Cortauld. I don't even know what to do
> more than list those amazing things -- the Cezanne blue landscape and
> Still Life with Plaster Cast, Renoir's At the Loge, Manet's Bar.
> Cezanne's puzzles, with the tree carefully setting the foreground but
> then its branches blending into the far background, the still life's
> endlessly colliding planes, look more both classical and Cubist to me
> every time.
The more I look (at the Greeks as well as the better cubists) the harder
it is for me to say how they really differ.
(snip)
>
> The curator doesn't identify works by artist, except on a handout.
> This has the air, I suppose, of dismantling the pre-pomo fascinating
> with "bourgeois individualism" at the heart of fine art, but in
> practice it mostly stressed the curator's ego and the room she
> fashioned.
Yes, substituting many authors with one....
Well, sounds great John! Thanks very much for the note!
Mark