Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Friday, September 23, 2022
Mermaid here, mermaid there, mermaid, mermaid everywhere...
The summer that ended was influenced by mermaids. They appeared in books, films, various artworks and my drawings. It was incredibly strange because starting from July we were nowhere close to the sea or ocean.
We were in the US for our Homeleave after the departure from Rome that has been our home for the past three years preparing to move to Luxembourg, our next posting. It was a time of disquitening discontent. The light summer read tends to be a great remedey for this malaise, so the search for the books was on. My love of the sea brought me to the "One way ticket" by Tricia O'Malley. It was set on a small fictional island in the Caribbean, and since we spent some time in that part of the world - I can easily relate to her description of the island life. The writing was good, the characters - entertaining and I decided to investigate this author further. That is how the mermaids of the Siren Island were discovered.
The Siren Island series are heart warming romances set near and in the water that introduce the magic (I simply can't can't can't use the "magik" spelling of the word - every time I encountered it in the text, I felt it was unnessary hiccup in the otherwise good prose) of nature,intuition, and of course magical creatures.. Considering that one of my all favourite fair tales is "The Little Mermaid" by Hans Christian Andersen, and the fact that as a little girl I badly wanted to be a mermaid - the books were very appealing.
A bit later going through the Netflix offerings I found H2O - an australian show about three young girls who turned into mermaids. (The first season was fun - I loved the underwater shots and a sunny feel, but later episodes lost their appeal very fast.)
In August we arrived to Luxembourg - a landlocked country, not a sea in sight. Imagine my surprise to find out that the city of Luxembourg has a legend of a mermaid. According to it, the said mermaid, Melusina, was the wife of Seigfreed, the first count of Luxembourg. He met her on the bank of Alzette, was captivated by her beauty and asked for her hand in marriage. She accepted his proposal but put forth two conditions : she would never leave the rocks of Alzette, and every Saturday she would have alone time in her room. Seigfreed and Melusina lived happily ever after until...Until the friends started to urge the Count to see what was those Saturdays about. And so, one fateful Saturday the Count peeked into Melusina's room and discovered her secret. Melusina cried in shock and disppeared into the rocks never to be seen by her husband again. It is said though that her spirit reappears every seven years.
Who knows perhaps I will be lucky enogh to see it...
The Statue of Melusina was put on the bank of Alzette, opposite the Abbey Neimenster, in 2015 in commemoration of the 1, 050 anniversary of the capital city. It was made my Serge Ecker.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
On Fish and Art
Walking along the Tiber a few weeks ago I noticed the swirls of activity in the water - the fish were swimming alongside each other, playfully rising to the surface and then diving deeper - when I realized that I was witnessing the mating games of the fishes, I couldn't help but break into smile - there was such life affirming,joyful ring to that sight. An older gentleman stopped by, and asked, "Quie pesci?" "Si, sono innamorati," was my, probably a bit odd, answer. As I was going away I saw him still standing there, filming.
Walking along the Tiber yesterday I saw a lot of fish floating belly up. It was so strange and such a contrast to the greenery of leaves, the chatter of seagulls, the movement of people jogging. The memories of the silvery dance that I enjoyed watching so much not long ago, and the picture of the lifeless bodies - didn't want to align.
Later my husband reminded me that some species of fish travel a long way to their breeding grounds, don't eat during their migration and simply die of exhaustion after mating. Quite literally from “la petite mort" to " le sommeil éternel.
Fish and its natural habitat always have certain fascination for me. Watching water and, if lucky, fish swimming in it, always has been a very calming and relaxing activity for me. (I dearly miss my long walks along the ocean that was part of my routine while living in the Bahamas).
A lot of cultures view fish as an auspicious symbol of happiness, freedom, fertility and abundance. I remember that orange carps, the fish sacred in the Oriental cultures, were prominent features in Beijing where they swam in the ponds in the parks and also in water basins near the entrances to the shops or private homes.
It is said that if a woman sees a fish in her dream - she is to expect a child, and if a man sees a fish – something equally fortunate comes his way. There are fairy tales about fish granting wishes - most famous ones are by Brothers Grimm "The Fisherman and his Wife" and by A. Pushkin "The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish"/"Сказка о рыбаке и рыбке"
A lot of written and pictorial sources show that from the earliest times of Christianity the fish was a symbol of Christ. The Greek word for fish “ichthys”/ ΙΧΘΥΣ is considered an acronym for the words "Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, Θεοῦ Υἱός, Σωτήρ"/ Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter/Jesus Christ Saviour Son of God”
Since the water baptism was practiced by immersion, it established a parallel between fish and converts, and the early Church Fathers often called their faithful "pisciculi" /little fish (" piscina" = lat. for fish) In fact, the Latin word for the vases in which water for baptism was stored is piscina, literally a fish pond, the same word as the swimming pool in modern Italian language.
And let’s not forget that fish has been a food staple for centuries and centuries. No wonder that fish are being widely depicted in art, and is also a popular motif for various household items. In religious paintings it usually closely connected with Christ and often appears on the table alongside wine and bread, and in genre paintings are simply celebrating fish as a food and one of nature's creations.
There is a painting by Rafael that is called Madonna Del Pesce/Madonna with Fish, which he created around 1514.
What is interesting in this particular painting aside from its beauty that it clearly shows the use of the attributes as a way of recognition who is who in the painting. It was customary in religious paintings to show the participants wearing certain colours, having a certain object in his/her hands, being accompanied by the certain animal. Those features were connected either with their life, or deeds, or martyrdom, and acted as name tags. Here Madonna can be easily recognized by her central position and the blue of her dress, the child on her knee doesn't need an introduction. The bearded man reading a book is St. Jerome whom the viewer can identify by the tamed lion at his feet, (The Golden Legend says that St. Jerome removed the thorn from the lion's paw while living in the monastery and the animal remained with him) On the other side of the throne is Archangel Rafael and a young boy holding a fish in his hands. The same young boy is on the painting above and there he is also carrying a fish. The fish in his hand is a part of his story - he caught it with archangels' Rafael help and use its entrails to cure his father's blindness.
And so, from the sights of the morning walk to yet another Madonna - one track mind, what can I say...
Walking along the Tiber yesterday I saw a lot of fish floating belly up. It was so strange and such a contrast to the greenery of leaves, the chatter of seagulls, the movement of people jogging. The memories of the silvery dance that I enjoyed watching so much not long ago, and the picture of the lifeless bodies - didn't want to align.
Later my husband reminded me that some species of fish travel a long way to their breeding grounds, don't eat during their migration and simply die of exhaustion after mating. Quite literally from “la petite mort" to " le sommeil éternel.
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Fish and its natural habitat always have certain fascination for me. Watching water and, if lucky, fish swimming in it, always has been a very calming and relaxing activity for me. (I dearly miss my long walks along the ocean that was part of my routine while living in the Bahamas).
A lot of cultures view fish as an auspicious symbol of happiness, freedom, fertility and abundance. I remember that orange carps, the fish sacred in the Oriental cultures, were prominent features in Beijing where they swam in the ponds in the parks and also in water basins near the entrances to the shops or private homes.
It is said that if a woman sees a fish in her dream - she is to expect a child, and if a man sees a fish – something equally fortunate comes his way. There are fairy tales about fish granting wishes - most famous ones are by Brothers Grimm "The Fisherman and his Wife" and by A. Pushkin "The Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish"/"Сказка о рыбаке и рыбке"
A lot of written and pictorial sources show that from the earliest times of Christianity the fish was a symbol of Christ. The Greek word for fish “ichthys”/ ΙΧΘΥΣ is considered an acronym for the words "Ἰησοῦς Χριστός, Θεοῦ Υἱός, Σωτήρ"/ Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter/Jesus Christ Saviour Son of God”
Since the water baptism was practiced by immersion, it established a parallel between fish and converts, and the early Church Fathers often called their faithful "pisciculi" /little fish (" piscina" = lat. for fish) In fact, the Latin word for the vases in which water for baptism was stored is piscina, literally a fish pond, the same word as the swimming pool in modern Italian language.
And let’s not forget that fish has been a food staple for centuries and centuries. No wonder that fish are being widely depicted in art, and is also a popular motif for various household items. In religious paintings it usually closely connected with Christ and often appears on the table alongside wine and bread, and in genre paintings are simply celebrating fish as a food and one of nature's creations.
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There is a painting by Rafael that is called Madonna Del Pesce/Madonna with Fish, which he created around 1514.
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| Madonna Del Pesce, Rafael, 1514 |
And so, from the sights of the morning walk to yet another Madonna - one track mind, what can I say...
Monday, April 9, 2018
The Joy of Art Making
I went today to the Mono-Printing Class in the "Current", the art gallery here in Nassau. I cannot say enough good things about this place: they do so many interesting talks, exhibitions, concerts, classes, and the fact that the artists can do residency there, which in turn means that the visitors can see artists at work - certainly adds to the vibrant atmosphere there.
Any way the class was hands on - get in and try - sort of things, and that is what I did... Below are the results..
Any way the class was hands on - get in and try - sort of things, and that is what I did... Below are the results..
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| Untitled. |
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| Boat series |
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| Boat Series |
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| Red |
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| Dancing Light |
Friday, September 22, 2017
Art Friday
Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see"
Margritte
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| Rene Magritte, La condition humaine, 1939 |
Sunday, November 21, 2010
JB
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The Great Wave
A card arrived today from a dear friend of mine. Such a wonderful surprise! Hand written notes are rare these days, especially those that aren't tied to any particular occasion. For me they are quintessentially altruistic - there isn't any pressure for a timely reply (it takes about a fortnight for a mail to reach us from the States) just an acknowledgement that someone was thinking of you.
I read the card, closed it, glanced at the image on it and smiled in delight. "The Great Wave" was greeting me.
About a year ago I developed an obsession with Japanese art and constantly talked, read and drew on the subject, thus the choice of the card wasn't accidental. The full title of this painting by Katsushika Hokusai is "Mt. Fuji seen through the waves off Kanagawa" but it is better known as "The Great Wave".
He was quite a character this Katsushika Hokusai, which by the way wasn't his real name. He was quarrelsome, aggessive, and absolutely brilliant. An artist through and through he left more than 30,000 works behind.
Hokusai started the series "Thirty -six Views of Mt. Fuji" when he was already seventy-two. He experimented with new blue - Prussian blue there, which was quite an expensive novelity at his time. He marveled at the clarity of the colour and searched for the new ways of expressing shades and depth. "The Great Wave" became one of the most recognizable images in Japanese paintings and its impact reached beyond the visual arts - Debussy was inspired by it to write his three "symphonic sketches", La Mer, and it said that Rilke used it as an inspiration while writing "The Mountain".
I'll leave you with these words of the artist:
"From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shapes of things. When I was fifty I had published a universe of designs. but all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with. At seventy five I'll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am eighty you will see real progress. At ninety I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At a hundred I shall be a marvelous artist. At a hundred and ten everything I create; a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before. To all of you who are going to live as long as I do, I promise to keep my word. I am writing this in my old age. I used to call myself Hokosai, but today I sign my self 'The Old Man Mad About Drawing." -- Hokusai Hokusai (1760-1849)
I read the card, closed it, glanced at the image on it and smiled in delight. "The Great Wave" was greeting me.
The Great Wave at Kanagawa (from a Series of Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji),Katsushika Hokusai (Japanese, 1760–1849)
About a year ago I developed an obsession with Japanese art and constantly talked, read and drew on the subject, thus the choice of the card wasn't accidental. The full title of this painting by Katsushika Hokusai is "Mt. Fuji seen through the waves off Kanagawa" but it is better known as "The Great Wave".
He was quite a character this Katsushika Hokusai, which by the way wasn't his real name. He was quarrelsome, aggessive, and absolutely brilliant. An artist through and through he left more than 30,000 works behind.
Hokusai started the series "Thirty -six Views of Mt. Fuji" when he was already seventy-two. He experimented with new blue - Prussian blue there, which was quite an expensive novelity at his time. He marveled at the clarity of the colour and searched for the new ways of expressing shades and depth. "The Great Wave" became one of the most recognizable images in Japanese paintings and its impact reached beyond the visual arts - Debussy was inspired by it to write his three "symphonic sketches", La Mer, and it said that Rilke used it as an inspiration while writing "The Mountain".
I'll leave you with these words of the artist:
"From the age of six I had a mania for drawing the shapes of things. When I was fifty I had published a universe of designs. but all I have done before the age of seventy is not worth bothering with. At seventy five I'll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am eighty you will see real progress. At ninety I shall have cut my way deeply into the mystery of life itself. At a hundred I shall be a marvelous artist. At a hundred and ten everything I create; a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before. To all of you who are going to live as long as I do, I promise to keep my word. I am writing this in my old age. I used to call myself Hokosai, but today I sign my self 'The Old Man Mad About Drawing." -- Hokusai Hokusai (1760-1849)
Image courtesy of http://www.metmuseum.org/
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Images
It is warm here (+15C) but overwhelmingly grey, so every splash of colour attracts my attention. That's how I came upon the images below. All of them are the paintings of Azerbaijanian artist, Elyar Alimirzayev. I like their dreamy quality but find the first image especially captivating. It is simply luminous.
Unfortunately, when I tried to investigate, there wasn't any information available about the artist, not even the years or titles of his work. He seems to be doing books illustrations also, but I can be mistaken.
Unfortunately, when I tried to investigate, there wasn't any information available about the artist, not even the years or titles of his work. He seems to be doing books illustrations also, but I can be mistaken.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
On Mediocrity
In one of the blogs I have discovered recently, the entry was devoted to the subject of mediocrity. The author quoted an excerpt from an article where the answer to the question why today there are no great artists such as Constable, Tchaikovsky, Wordsworth, etc., was,"Simple. In their day talent was rewarded above mediocrity, whereas today the exact opposite is true. Why would anyone dedicate a lifetime to perfecting a skill if they can get £1m for not making their bed?" (The author referred to the 1999 work of Tracey Emin “My bed”)
It is a common misconception that modern times cannot produce lions equal to Molière, Byron, Tolstoy, Da Vinci, Gauguin to name a few. In truth contemporaries simply cannot accurately assess the greatness or mediocrity of the artists of their own epoch. Only time can show who will remain standing and who will disappear into the mist of oblivion.
The standards for art have been lowered, there’s no argument about that. New technologies make it possible to produce interesting work without laboring intensely. Often young artists do cut corners and eagerly dive into the world of readymades, but those who devote their life to art are bound to dig deeper and work on their skills, otherwise there is no progress.
The lowering of standards for art has its upside though; it forces people to form their own opinions, view art differently, more freely, without boundaries of what should/shouldn’t appeal to the public. In short, it makes a viewer/reader/listener responsible for forming his own taste. Perhaps the question should not be how much skill was involved in producing something, but how much this piece moves a viewer.
Everyone’s imagination is piqued by different sorts of experiences; what is considered mediocre for one can be an eye opener for another. As long as a person can explain his opinion and doesn’t flatly dismiss the views of others, there is always an opportunity to learn something new.
It is a common misconception that modern times cannot produce lions equal to Molière, Byron, Tolstoy, Da Vinci, Gauguin to name a few. In truth contemporaries simply cannot accurately assess the greatness or mediocrity of the artists of their own epoch. Only time can show who will remain standing and who will disappear into the mist of oblivion.
The standards for art have been lowered, there’s no argument about that. New technologies make it possible to produce interesting work without laboring intensely. Often young artists do cut corners and eagerly dive into the world of readymades, but those who devote their life to art are bound to dig deeper and work on their skills, otherwise there is no progress.
The lowering of standards for art has its upside though; it forces people to form their own opinions, view art differently, more freely, without boundaries of what should/shouldn’t appeal to the public. In short, it makes a viewer/reader/listener responsible for forming his own taste. Perhaps the question should not be how much skill was involved in producing something, but how much this piece moves a viewer.
Everyone’s imagination is piqued by different sorts of experiences; what is considered mediocre for one can be an eye opener for another. As long as a person can explain his opinion and doesn’t flatly dismiss the views of others, there is always an opportunity to learn something new.
Friday, May 1, 2009
New Discoveries
I am sitting in the sun room – rain is rustling on the roof, the kids are playing with their friends. My eyes keep lingering on the cover of the book on Japonisme, "The Japanese influence on Western art since 1858." This book has been the source of my interminable interest for several months now. Theoretical, broad knowledge about influence of oriental culture on the West exists in my head for a long time. But seeing side by side illustrations that demonstrate these influences in great details, forged much deeper understanding of it. It helped me to see how a single pose, a small gesture, unexpected colour combination was borrowed, processed and weaved into the paintings of western artists. It also made me realize how liberating, exciting, and inspirational it must have been to discover such alien world of art for the western artists. Our modern eyes are conditioned to see and accept as natural variety of artistic styles while in the second part of the 19th century the rules of what considered to be a proper painting were still rigid. How exuberant it must have been to see new ways of organizing the picture plain, discover new range of subject matter, new techniques, new colour palette, new artistic devices. No wonder that so many artists, Monet, Degas, Gauguin, Van Gogh, Toulouse – Lautrec, Pierre Bonnard, to name a few, were mesmerized and heavily influenced by Japanese art.
It is also utterly fascinating that the moment when Japonisme became possible is so clearly defined in history. March of 1854, the treaty of Kanagawa, the end of 216 years of Japanese isolation. Isn’t it interesting that the signing of the political document had such an enormous influence on European and American art? The treaty had allowed Japanese artifacts and handicraft articles to be brought in Europe where in no time they became all the rage. Shops selling kimonos, antiquities, fans, and woodblock prints appeared one after another. Exhibitions showed Japanese art objects to the public. Artists inspired by new forms found new ways of expressing themselves. How extraordinary and at the same time logical.
Below are the most telling examples of japonisme (the term was coined by French art critic Philippe Burty to describe the craze for all things Japanese):
Claude Monet, Madame Monet in a kimono, 1876
Kitagawa Utamaro, Japanese woman (detail); Joseph Wacherle, Lady of fashion, 1907
Edgar Dega, Nude woman, standing (detail), 1886; Katsushika Hokusai, Sumo wrestler, 1814-78, from Manga
Edgar Dega, Dancer tying her ribbons, c.1880; Katsushika Hokusai, Sparrow dance, 1814-78, From Manga
Katsushika Hokusai, Man washing, 1814-78, From Manga; Edgar Dega, The bath-tub, 1886
Ando Hiroshige, Ohashi bridge in the rain, 1856-58, from 100 Views of Famous Places in Edo; Vincent van Gogh, Japonaiserie: the bridge, 1886-88, copy after Hiroshige
It is also utterly fascinating that the moment when Japonisme became possible is so clearly defined in history. March of 1854, the treaty of Kanagawa, the end of 216 years of Japanese isolation. Isn’t it interesting that the signing of the political document had such an enormous influence on European and American art? The treaty had allowed Japanese artifacts and handicraft articles to be brought in Europe where in no time they became all the rage. Shops selling kimonos, antiquities, fans, and woodblock prints appeared one after another. Exhibitions showed Japanese art objects to the public. Artists inspired by new forms found new ways of expressing themselves. How extraordinary and at the same time logical.
Below are the most telling examples of japonisme (the term was coined by French art critic Philippe Burty to describe the craze for all things Japanese):
Claude Monet, Madame Monet in a kimono, 1876
Kitagawa Utamaro, Japanese woman (detail); Joseph Wacherle, Lady of fashion, 1907
Edgar Dega, Nude woman, standing (detail), 1886; Katsushika Hokusai, Sumo wrestler, 1814-78, from Manga
Edgar Dega, Dancer tying her ribbons, c.1880; Katsushika Hokusai, Sparrow dance, 1814-78, From Manga
Katsushika Hokusai, Man washing, 1814-78, From Manga; Edgar Dega, The bath-tub, 1886
Ando Hiroshige, Ohashi bridge in the rain, 1856-58, from 100 Views of Famous Places in Edo; Vincent van Gogh, Japonaiserie: the bridge, 1886-88, copy after Hiroshige Tuesday, September 16, 2008
You drive me crazy.
If I could name one of my gifts it would be to make people talk. People feel comfortable to share their thoughts, worries and stories with me; it doesn’t matter if they know me or we just met. Today this aforementioned gift scored me an interesting tale. The work of a young Icelandic artist has been presented on the second floor of the National Gallery of Iceland since May. The artist is known for her installations which draw "a viewer into a physical dialogue with the work and encourage the possibility to re-evaluate one’s relation to space and place.” In this particular installation the hall was divided into narrow corridors. There in complete darkness, guided by a lonely flickering light, the viewer was supposed to find his way out of this artificial maze. The sign on the metallic door leading to the exhibition hall warned: “This exhibition may cause a slight claustrophobic effect. Not recommended for pregnant women and young children.” Only one person at a time was allowed to enter that hall and usually an assistant sitting by the door was enquiring if a walkie- talkie was needed. I visited the exhibition back in May and can testify that the total darkness does cause you to lose sense of direction and it didn’t feel thrilling. During the summer months a person entered the hall and.... lost his bearings somewhere in the middle of his journey through the darkness. In a desperate attempt to get out he crashed through the walls and was in need of medical assistance. The installation indeed draw "a viewer into a physical dialogue" - the maze literally drove him crazy. What was meant to be “a psychological and phenomenological playground” turned into a psychological horror. How is this for a power of art?
* It is interesting that the receipt ,which I mentioned in my previous post and “the house of horror” belongs to the same artist.
* It is interesting that the receipt ,which I mentioned in my previous post and “the house of horror” belongs to the same artist.
** The photo is courtesy of http://www.artnew.is/
Sunday, September 14, 2008
On Boobs, Art amd Public Transportation
Public transportation is widely entertaining.
I spent most of the ride back home today trying not to stare at a woman's breasts. She sat down opposite me and at the precise moment she landed there, all thoughts of recently viewed art exhibitions evaporated from my head. Here they were, her dangling boobs, a mere meter in front of me - pale, not so much pretty as, well, exposed. It was all the more bizarre that the weather was horrid today. Was she not aware that the zipper of her jumper was closer to her navel than her chin? Was this her intention? Was I supposed to say something? I don't know how to handle such a situation. For my part I tried my best to keep a straight face. Considering that in the mirror of the driver's cabin I was able to see the reflection of men who were utterly transfixed by the display, it wasn't easy. Mercifully, another passenger diverted my attention. A young teenage girl sat next to my object of fascination - track suit, pony tail, roses in a bag and... a cigarette in her hand. It wasn't a pack, it was just one lonely cigarette. She just held it in her hand as you would hold a flower, periodically sniffing it. Nicotine withdrawal?
Meanwhile her neighbor either became uncomfortable under men's stares or just plain cold. She pulled the zipper up...just a little bit, just to be sure that a nipple will not make its appearance.
And to think that I would have missed this peep show if I had postponed my search for art review material. It does pay off to be a responsible one from time to time.
I did find several possibilities for my next review. I will not bore you with details but here is a little puzzle for your enjoyment. If the title of the exhibition is pleinairism, how does this receipt fit in? Any takers?
I spent most of the ride back home today trying not to stare at a woman's breasts. She sat down opposite me and at the precise moment she landed there, all thoughts of recently viewed art exhibitions evaporated from my head. Here they were, her dangling boobs, a mere meter in front of me - pale, not so much pretty as, well, exposed. It was all the more bizarre that the weather was horrid today. Was she not aware that the zipper of her jumper was closer to her navel than her chin? Was this her intention? Was I supposed to say something? I don't know how to handle such a situation. For my part I tried my best to keep a straight face. Considering that in the mirror of the driver's cabin I was able to see the reflection of men who were utterly transfixed by the display, it wasn't easy. Mercifully, another passenger diverted my attention. A young teenage girl sat next to my object of fascination - track suit, pony tail, roses in a bag and... a cigarette in her hand. It wasn't a pack, it was just one lonely cigarette. She just held it in her hand as you would hold a flower, periodically sniffing it. Nicotine withdrawal?
Meanwhile her neighbor either became uncomfortable under men's stares or just plain cold. She pulled the zipper up...just a little bit, just to be sure that a nipple will not make its appearance.
And to think that I would have missed this peep show if I had postponed my search for art review material. It does pay off to be a responsible one from time to time.
I did find several possibilities for my next review. I will not bore you with details but here is a little puzzle for your enjoyment. If the title of the exhibition is pleinairism, how does this receipt fit in? Any takers?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Rain, Wind, Greyness.
It is a rather blustery day today. It is not only rainy but windy too, and altogether quite unpleasant. From inside it looks like a grisaille painting. Considering that glaucous moss covers the rocks in our backyard, a lonely tree in the corner has taupe trunk, and time bleached the wooden floor outside to milky-grey, this description seems fitting.
Confession - after several rounds of battle ship, gobblet and scrabble, I turned to the Roget's Thesaurus and read the entry on greyness. Quite an odd pastime but highly entertaining and relaxing. Plus, it still (loosely) connects with the article that I am working on.
And, here is our art for today:
Confession - after several rounds of battle ship, gobblet and scrabble, I turned to the Roget's Thesaurus and read the entry on greyness. Quite an odd pastime but highly entertaining and relaxing. Plus, it still (loosely) connects with the article that I am working on.
And, here is our art for today:
Sunday, July 20, 2008
A Bits of This and That
Here is, courtesy of my friend, an amusing link – revealing truth about modern art and art reviewers. Gosh, my art reviews and I are so dated.
The front page of Fréttablaðið was graced today by Martha Steward strolling around Reykjavik with Dorrit Moussaieff (the first lady of Iceland.) Curious, I tried to find a bit more about the purpose of her visit but didn’t have much luck. What I found out though is that Martha Stewart has her own blog, where the upcoming trip to Iceland was mentioned. Doctor Ruth was a guest of the culture festival of Reykjavik back in May, now we have Martha Stewart; it is never dull here.
Meanwhile the weather have changed from gorgeous to windy and rainy. The forecast for the next few days shows rain, rain, rain.
The front page of Fréttablaðið was graced today by Martha Steward strolling around Reykjavik with Dorrit Moussaieff (the first lady of Iceland.) Curious, I tried to find a bit more about the purpose of her visit but didn’t have much luck. What I found out though is that Martha Stewart has her own blog, where the upcoming trip to Iceland was mentioned. Doctor Ruth was a guest of the culture festival of Reykjavik back in May, now we have Martha Stewart; it is never dull here.
Meanwhile the weather have changed from gorgeous to windy and rainy. The forecast for the next few days shows rain, rain, rain.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Art and Kids
In the typical Icelandic fashion the yesterday’s lovely summer day turned into fuzzy memory while grey clouds yet again invaded the sky. It was still warm in the morning but by the late afternoon the temperature returned to its normal + 9/10 C mark, it started to rain and I felt bad for all those who tried to coop with this drop of the temperature in their bear all tops and short-sleeved T-shirts. If the highest temperature has been only + 15 C, it isn’t summer yet. You can call it this, you can dress as if it is, but it doesn’t make it summer.
The kids today didn’t go to school as they wanted to participate in meeting the Secretary of State. Knowing that such events are usually short I was prepared to compensate my sons' inevitable “That is it?” with walk around the town and visits to their favourite places. The meet and greet did last only about fifteen minutes but the boys had fun time playing with their friends while waiting, and was glad to meet a person to whom they wrote during their American history class last year.
Before going to the embassy the kids asked me to stop at the National Gallery since they haven’t been there for a while. We had about ten minutes to spare, so we did. We saw Monica Bonvicini chain and leather racks and the boys even climbed in one of those things. Then we went to see Finnbogi Pétursson's work. To my delight they were able to recognize his work – they didn’t remember the artist’s name but they were able to link it with Petersson’s work they had seen at a different exhibition. It is nice to know that my bringing them to the museums and galleries have some impact.
After embassy's event we returned to the Gallery to eat and to see the rest of the exhibition. One of the halls had several people waiting to enter so went to see a work of Steina, who is a pioneer of Icelandic video installations art. It was held in a separate hall – dark, with five oversized screens showing five spheres, which constantly change their colours and patterns, while twirling around their axis. "The outer space" sounds accompanied the exhibition. The boys went inside and in a matter of seconds were deep into Star Wars game they invented. The Spheres were the enemies. They ran around in the darkened hall, shooting into spheres and hiding behind the steps, coming up with more and more details of their elaborated play. There were no other visitors in the hall,so I let them enjoy the art in their own way.
The kids today didn’t go to school as they wanted to participate in meeting the Secretary of State. Knowing that such events are usually short I was prepared to compensate my sons' inevitable “That is it?” with walk around the town and visits to their favourite places. The meet and greet did last only about fifteen minutes but the boys had fun time playing with their friends while waiting, and was glad to meet a person to whom they wrote during their American history class last year.
Before going to the embassy the kids asked me to stop at the National Gallery since they haven’t been there for a while. We had about ten minutes to spare, so we did. We saw Monica Bonvicini chain and leather racks and the boys even climbed in one of those things. Then we went to see Finnbogi Pétursson's work. To my delight they were able to recognize his work – they didn’t remember the artist’s name but they were able to link it with Petersson’s work they had seen at a different exhibition. It is nice to know that my bringing them to the museums and galleries have some impact.
After embassy's event we returned to the Gallery to eat and to see the rest of the exhibition. One of the halls had several people waiting to enter so went to see a work of Steina, who is a pioneer of Icelandic video installations art. It was held in a separate hall – dark, with five oversized screens showing five spheres, which constantly change their colours and patterns, while twirling around their axis. "The outer space" sounds accompanied the exhibition. The boys went inside and in a matter of seconds were deep into Star Wars game they invented. The Spheres were the enemies. They ran around in the darkened hall, shooting into spheres and hiding behind the steps, coming up with more and more details of their elaborated play. There were no other visitors in the hall,so I let them enjoy the art in their own way.
I have to admit - it was a perfect setting for Star Wars game.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Looking Back
I was thinking about art recently – art in general - the art of writing, the art of drawing, the art of self-expression and the art of living. The art of words and images always fascinated me. In my childhood and later on – books, art museums or galleries were my shield against the world, “a highly respectable means of social avoidance”. Experience and traveling the world altered my taste but it was interesting to look back and trace my former obsessions, some of which never left me, just subtly shifted their places in my inner world.
In Moscow during my teen years it was hard to find anything but the art of classical or social realism. I didn't care much for the latter, adoring the ninteenth century artists instead. I was captivated by the paintings of Ivan Ajvazovkij(1817-1900). He was a marinist, and since I always was entranced by the sea, his works spoke to my heart. I don't know if there was anybody equal to him at that time in depicting the sea - its rage and calm, snowy white foam of its wave and its transparent depth, sunrays piercing the water - at his time.
Ivan Ajvaovski, Venice, 1843
Ivan Ajvazovski, The Ninth Wave, 1850
Isaak Levitan, March
Isaak Levitan, Evening Bells
Nicholas Roerich, Ancient Pskov
Roerich was an arheologist, an art historian, a teacher, a writer, a philosopher and an artist. His personality and life was so unusual from everything I had encountered before that it was hard to stop digging deeper and deeper.
In Moscow during my teen years it was hard to find anything but the art of classical or social realism. I didn't care much for the latter, adoring the ninteenth century artists instead. I was captivated by the paintings of Ivan Ajvazovkij(1817-1900). He was a marinist, and since I always was entranced by the sea, his works spoke to my heart. I don't know if there was anybody equal to him at that time in depicting the sea - its rage and calm, snowy white foam of its wave and its transparent depth, sunrays piercing the water - at his time.
Ivan Ajvaovski, Venice, 1843
Ivan Ajvazovski, The Ninth Wave, 1850Then there was Isaak Levitan (1860 - 1900) and his landscapes. They are so lyrical, so filled with melancholia; a special term "the landscape of the mood" came to the Russian painting with them. There is quite beauty in them which captures your soul, making you linger in from of the canvases.
Isaak Levitan, Autumn Day, 1879 (Levitan usualy did't add people to his landscapes, and here the woman's figure was painted by Nicolay Chehov, Anton's Chechov's brother.)
Isaak Levitan, March
Isaak Levitan, Evening BellsLater in the mid eighties I discovered the works of Nicholas Roerich. The colours, the themes blew my mind and started my fascination with Oriental philosophy. I think I read everything that I were able to find (which was not much at that time) about Roerich and his life. And ,of course, my interest in Buddism brought a lot of uncoventional people in our house. My mom, bless her heart, patiently endured an endless string of long haired guests, listened to their music and discussions and quite often stayed with us till dawn making sure that our cups of tea were always full.
Nicholas Roerich, Ancient Pskov
Roerich was an arheologist, an art historian, a teacher, a writer, a philosopher and an artist. His personality and life was so unusual from everything I had encountered before that it was hard to stop digging deeper and deeper.
One of the books about his was concentrated on his attempts to introduce Eastern wisdom to the Western mind. I read it from cover to cover, jotting down the notes on its pages. Several years after leaving Russia I received a letter from one of my former student - he mentioned that he lost his way and didn't really know what he wanted to do. I sent him the book. Last year my student came to visit Beijing and brought the book (after 6 years) back to me. The pages of it was covered with his notes alongside mine.
Talking about influences....
Thursday, January 10, 2008
About Art, Again
I am taking revenge for two weeks being cooped at home due to the holiday season, school break and bad weather by basking in the inexhaustible art scene of Reykjavik. Today I stopped at Hafnarhús to see the exhibition of one of the Iceland’s leading conceptual artists Hreinn Friðfinnsson. The variety of the media he works with is remarkable – there are photos and notes, installations and drawings, glass and cardboard, wood and fabric. The first image meeting you at the entrance is a hand reflecting in the mirror. The label reads “So far”. My mind immediately answered “only so far you can reach”. Right next to it is a vertical raw of tear – shaped crystals, simply named “16 drops.” In the next room you are faced with a white and black photo of a man standing in a darkened room. He stands in profile to a viewer; his hands caught a splash of colours – red, green and purple. The work is untitled. On the same wall in complete contrast you see a cardboard box, brightly coloured inside and titled “Sanctuary”. There is a left shoe on the floor, mirrored to show its mate, named "Pair"; there is a “Beauty Mark” made of small black felt circle lying lonely on the windowsill, there are mirrors on the floor that make glass jars whole or doubled. All these pieces seemingly thrown together without any particular order create an enchanted universe, where objects reflecting in the mirrors, start living their own life; old legends, caught on photos and papers, inviting you for a journey; everyday objects looked delightfully odd and their unexpected placement made you smile. A catalog itself can be read like a poetry “For Light, Shadow and Dust”, “Afterthought”, “Element of Doubt”, “Lightening and Thunder”, “Seven times”. The artist seems to be playing with a notice that everything can be turned into art. His humour denies conventional thinking, opens up minds. For some it can be tough to take - as I was strolling around, admiring the author’s creativity, I saw a young man coming in, making a quick spin around, shaking his head and leaving with an expression of puzzlement on his face. I think about bringing the kids here, it would be interesting to see their reaction, to talk afterwards. 
All images in this post are courtesy o f the internet.
On completely unrelated topic, I got my first rejection letter. I view it as a good sign, since I finally gathered a courage to submit some of my writing, which is a big step forward.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Now You See It, Now You Don't...*
I went today on my weekly pilgrimage to Reykjavik for a much needed breath of big city air. The initial plan was to visit my beloved sculpture garden and then go to the Museum of Photography. While the bus was passing Miklatun Park, a big sign “Free admission to Art Museum” caught my attention; on a whim I got off.
I wandered into Kjavrvalsstaðir and glanced into a big exhibition hall. “How strange," I thought, "There is nothing there besides white canvases”. A small exhibit of “Meditation on furniture” was on display in the corridor, so I started there. It was ok but not grabbing. I stepped into the big hall again. Suddenly, I noticed faces emerging from the white fog of the paintings. I was surrounded by smiling, blue-eyed blondes, most of them crowned with tiaras. All the portraits were exactly the same size; all had the white background; all used only the palest shades of grey, yellow and white. Standing alone in the midst of the fading faces, I felt utterly, completely fascinated, and a bit disturbed by their piercing stares. It was the “Blonde Miss World 1951“ exhibition featuring the portraits of all the winners of Miss World beauty pageants since the competition was launched in 1951. The artist, Birgir Snæbjörn Birgisson, is known for his style of painting on the white canvas with transparent colours and also for painting only blondes. His other work include a “Blonde Nurses Series” and “Blond Heads – Nordic Race”. I don’t know what is behind his “absence of colour” and loyalty to blondes – spiritual or racial pureness- but it is an interesting exhibition.
This is how the exhibition looks from the first glance, you can see the mystery unfold here.
*This is a quote from Mika Hannula, the curator of the exhibit.
I wandered into Kjavrvalsstaðir and glanced into a big exhibition hall. “How strange," I thought, "There is nothing there besides white canvases”. A small exhibit of “Meditation on furniture” was on display in the corridor, so I started there. It was ok but not grabbing. I stepped into the big hall again. Suddenly, I noticed faces emerging from the white fog of the paintings. I was surrounded by smiling, blue-eyed blondes, most of them crowned with tiaras. All the portraits were exactly the same size; all had the white background; all used only the palest shades of grey, yellow and white. Standing alone in the midst of the fading faces, I felt utterly, completely fascinated, and a bit disturbed by their piercing stares. It was the “Blonde Miss World 1951“ exhibition featuring the portraits of all the winners of Miss World beauty pageants since the competition was launched in 1951. The artist, Birgir Snæbjörn Birgisson, is known for his style of painting on the white canvas with transparent colours and also for painting only blondes. His other work include a “Blonde Nurses Series” and “Blond Heads – Nordic Race”. I don’t know what is behind his “absence of colour” and loyalty to blondes – spiritual or racial pureness- but it is an interesting exhibition.
This is how the exhibition looks from the first glance, you can see the mystery unfold here.
*This is a quote from Mika Hannula, the curator of the exhibit.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Start Art
These words “Start Art” can be a motto of Reykjavik or Iceland in general. Art in every form is welcome here – be it a little gnome placed in the rocks near the house, graffiti on the wall of the building, paintings, sculptures or unusual design of the house. My impression is that the artist’s goal here is self-expression, sharing of the free flowing ideas while gaining recognition and commercial success being secondary, sort of a nice bonus.Since Iceland is a relatively young country, you will encounter mostly contemporary art here. What I find most appealing about it – is its openness to interpretation.
You are not led to conclusion, told what to think but left to make your own thinking. Since there aren’t any canons, rigid rules in contemporary art, there is no comparison just free falling, liking or disliking. Through this the art serves the most authentic of its purposes – to open a person’s mind to something new, to stretch its limits.
The most enchanting quality of most galleries here and Start Art in particular, is that there isn’t any attempt on being grand; it is simple, humble and inviting. One hall is devoted to experiment with different textures (fur, wax, metal); the works in the other room draw on popularity of “hidden” people and enchanted stones, the clothes designs are on display in the third one. This gallery is a collaboration of seven artists, whose styles are different from each other but it is very heartwarming when one of them greet you at the door with: “You have to see the works on the second floor; I would never have thought to come up with such idea”.
Ability to wonder, acceptance of new – the start of art.
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