Picasso: Coloured In

 

Toward the end of 2016, the National Portrait Gallery in London held an exhibition on the works of the master of modern art, Pablo Picasso. Displaying a lifetime of artwork, the gallery provided a concise biography of Picasso’s life, providing the opportunity to learn about the artist as well as his paintings. The gift shop at the exit of the exhibition sold mementoes of the display, including a colouring book containing 20 black and white versions of some of the major works of Picasso during the 20th Century.

Pablo Picasso: To Colour In was published in April 2016 with the intention of using the popular fad to educate readers/colouring book enthusiasts about the techniques and secrets of the great master. Each work included in the book has a brief paragraph explaining what it is (in case you cannot tell) and a few details about Picasso’s intentions or the events happening in his life at the time.

Although Pablo Ruiz Picasso was Spanish, he lived in France for the majority of his adult life. As a child, he lived in various areas of Spain beginning with Malaga where he was born on 25th October 1881. He lived here with his parents and two sisters, Dolores and Concepción. However, Concepción, or Conchita as she was known, died very young, a tragedy that had a great impact of Picasso.

Picasso’s father, a museum curator and teacher of fine art, encouraged his son to begin painting. Picasso received lessons in technique and academic style, completing his first painting, The Picador, in 1889, at a mere eight years old. Later, after moving to North-Western Spain, Picasso completed his initial training at La Lonja Academy in Barcelona.

Picasso attempted further education in Madrid at the San Fernando Royal Academy – a competitive college to get into – however, was forced to return to Barcelona after a severe bought of scarlet fever. This did not prevent Picasso from continuing his artistic journey and he was soon producing compositions that impressed local academies.

His surname, Picasso, evokes images of abstract art, however, there was a steady development of style and technique until he reached the more obscure results. Picasso’s colour palette was key in his varying phases, the first being predominately blue. What triggered this period was the sudden loss of a close friend to suicide in 1901. Devastated, Picasso painted a death portrait, which was spread through with blue tones. During this “blue period”, Picasso painted many melancholy subjects such as beggars and hospital patients. It was during this time that Picasso began to branch out into other forms of artistic expression, for example, sculpture.

By 1904, Picasso had moved and settled in Montmartre, France, where he had a small studio of his own. After three years of excessively using the colour blue, Picasso entered a new phase now known as the “rose period”. Naturally, this incorporated a brighter colour palette and heralded more cheerful subjects. Inspired by a local circus, Picasso often depicted harlequin clowns in his paintings. This vivid period lasted until 1907 when Picasso produced his first major work The Young Ladies of Avignon (see above), which sparked the beginning of yet another period: cubism.

Picasso’s cubist paintings are different from the majority of artists involved with the movement. Initially, he was inspired by other artists, but eventually abandoned all traditional rules and focused on painting geometric still lifes, revealing an object from several directions, rather than the way the human eye would usually perceive it from one position.

Not wanting to be constrained to the stipulations of an art faction, Picasso flitted between several. After experimenting with Cubism, he stepped into the Surrealist movement, where he completed paintings and sculptures up until the beginning of the Second World War. Following the bombing of the town, Guernica, Picasso created his famously large painting of the same name. Despite its fame, Guernica has not been included in this colouring book.

Living through two wars, two marriages and many other life altering events, Picasso’s works can be used as a form of a diary. When viewed in chronological order, it is possible to tell what was going on for him personally at specific times. For example, his “blue period” was sparked off by the death of a friend and his work took on a more violent nature during the bleak wartimes. His marriages and divorce can be evidenced by the models used for many of his portraits, for instance, his female companions: Dora Maar and Marie-Thérèse (again, see above).

Despite failing health, Picasso was still painting in his 90s, producing 165 canvases during January 1969 and February 1970 alone. By the time he died on 8th April 1973, Picasso had produced over 50,000 works – an astonishing feat that still evokes veneration.

Naturally, it would be impossible to produce a book of all Picasso’s recorded works, but the editors of this particular colouring book have carefully selected examples that span the majority of his life, thus encompassing the different styles he experimented with.

The author of the text – presumably Frédérique Cassegrain, who also wrote the biography and information for each included artwork – gives helpful advice about how to colour in the outlined versions of Picasso’s paintings. The paper is thick enough to be suitable for paints, particular Gouache, which is water soluble and easily blended. Alternatively, coloured pencils may be used, preferably of artistic quality, which may be more suitable for those less confident in art and design. Another option, although not mentioned by the author, are felt-tip pens. Usually, these should be avoided due to ink bleeding through the page, however, the paper is single sided, so there is no chance of damaging the following colouring page in the book.

Purchasing Pablo Picasso: To Colour In and completing the book, provides not only hours of fun and relaxation, but an opportunity to discover and understand the artist. Unlike at a gallery where the brain may switch off, being able to go away and return to the book gives us time to absorb the information and concentrate more clearly on the details of each painting.

Opposite each colouring page is a copy of the original in full colour, meaning that, if one desired, one could replicate Picasso’s work as closely as possible. By doing, rather than just looking, we begin to understand the colour choices, piece together the geometric shapes to form an image and begin to understand the thought processes of the artist.

Interestingly, there are two paintings that stand out amongst all the others. These were produced during and after the First World War, a time when Picasso returned to a more classical style of artwork. These are The Pipes of Pan (1923) and The Bathers (1918). Both show a completely different side to Picasso and would not immediately be recognised as his own work. Despite not being entirely life-like, there are no elements of Cubism or Surrealism and the colour palette is altogether natural. Picasso has focused on shading and tone to create a realistic appearance, a contrast to the flattened portraits he is known for.

Having seen evidence at the National Portrait Gallery as well as in this colouring book, it is clear that Picasso was able to paint lifelike portraits and scenes, however, he generally chose not to. This may baffle those that wish they could draw accurately; why opt for abstract art when you have a natural flair for realism? Picasso was not concerned about the aesthetic appeal of his artworks but rather used them as a form of expression. He experienced two world wars and personal grievances which greatly impacted on his painting style. Sometimes it is too difficult to put feelings into words, so Picasso represented them visually instead.

Abstract, Cubist and Surrealist art is something that people either love or hate. Many may not appreciate artists such as Picasso, whereas others find them deeply meaningful. Having the opportunity to study the artist through a detailed colouring book creates a more comprehensive understanding of the artwork and ability to acknowledge the intention and story behind it.

Pablo Picasso: To Colour In will appeal to artists, art historians and other creatives with its contrast of light relief and in-depth knowledge. The book is available online at retailers such as Amazon and The Book Depository from approximately £6. If Picasso is not your thing, there are other artists available in the series of colouring books, including Klimt, Hokusai (Japanese Art), Monet, Van Gogh, Caillebotte and Manet (Impressionists), and Paul Klee. Whatever your preference, prepare to learn whilst you are relaxing and having fun.

Canaletto & the Art of Venice

The Royal Collection at the Queen’s Gallery, Buckingham Palace, currently contains a large number of the paintings and drawings of Canaletto, one of the most famous Venetian painters. These works were brought to Britain by an art dealer, Joseph Smith, who was incidentally the British Consul in Venice. The paintings entered the hands of the Royals in 1762 when King George III bought Smith’s entire collection.

Amongst the collection displayed in the exhibition Canaletto & the Art of Venice are some of the most recognisable of Canaletto’s works. Focusing on the views in Venice, Canaletto painted from various locations, producing a series that shows a journey along the Grand Canal.

Canaletto is not the only artist featured in this exhibition. In order to compare and contrast his artistic skill, his masterpieces are hung amongst paintings by his contemporaries, including Marco Ricci (1676-1730), Anton[io] Maria Zanetti the Elder (1680-1767), Giovanni Battista Piazzetta (1682/3-1754), Giovanni Cattini (c1715-1800) and Sebastiano Ricci (1659-1734).

Giovanni Antonio Canal 1697-1768

It is claimed that Canaletto is the most famous Venetian view-painter, etcher and draughtsman of the 18th century. He was born into the art world on 28th October 1697 to the theatrical scene painter, Bernardo Canal (1674-1744). It is thought that this is how Canaletto got his nickname, for, in order to distinguish himself from his father, Giovanni Antonio Canal was most likely referred to as ‘Little Canal’ or, as it is in Italian, ‘Canaletto’.

Canaletto began his career assisting his father with the sets for Vivaldi’s operas in Venice, and later, Alessandro Scarlatti’s operas in Rome. It was whilst he was in Rome that Canaletto began sketching famous buildings and ancient monuments, causing him to abandon the theatrical work on his return to Venice. Thus began his topographical painting career.

Specialising in grand views showing the public face of the city of Venice, Canaletto’s paintings are full of strong, bright colours and his handling of the brush is extremely smooth and precise. Canaletto would create a sketch on the spot from which to paint from, producing what looked like an accurate record of the landscape. However, this was often far from the case. In order to create a better composition, Canaletto would alter the proportions of buildings or shift their positions. In some instances, the view is entirely imaginary. The term for these paintings is Capriccio – Caprice in English – which refers to the combination of architectural accuracy (recognisable building etc) with elements of fantasy.

The 18th century saw an influx of wealthy visitors to cities such as Venice, particularly British aristocrats. With the assistance of the aforementioned Joseph Smith, Canaletto made these people his best customers, producing views of the canals for them to take home as mementoes (a precursor to postcards).

Unfortunately, Canaletto lost the majority of his clients as a result of the War of the Austrian Succession (1740-8), which put a temporary end to Continental travel. In an attempt to win back customers, Canaletto moved to London in 1746 where he resided for a decade, painting views of London and the countryside. However, rumours were spread that Canaletto was an imposter and not the famous Venetian painter he claimed to be. Therefore, in 1756 he returned to Venice and, although never recovering his popularity, continued to paint for the rest of his life.

Both during and after his life, Canaletto’s style of painting was highly influential in Italy and eventually the rest of central Europe. Many of his works were copied by his followers, causing his style to live on long after his death. His nephew, Bernardo Bellotto, was one of the artists who helped to spread his uncle’s renown and technique.

On display in the Queen’s Gallery are some of Canaletto’s brief sketches, which he made on the spot in preparation for the final painting. With a precise hand and a few sketchy lines, Canaletto was able to capture the scene in front of him. These, despite their quickness, were highly recognisable representations, and many, in fact, are finished drawings, rather than merely a starting point.

It is interesting to be able to view Canaletto’s preliminary sketches as well as the final paintings because it gives an insight into the way the famous artist worked. Paintings can be taken for granted when only seen in their final frames. The hard work and time taken are often forgotten, but logic indicates that these paintings did not just appear out of nowhere.

As the exhibition reveals, Canaletto carried a sketchbook with him around the city, drawing and making notes to refer back to. Letters labelled areas of the page to indicate how that section should be painted, e.g. “B” for bianco (white) and “R” for rosso (red).

Hung in a strategic order, Canaletto’s paintings, and those of his contemporaries, are set off by the royal blues, greens and reds of walls. The exhibition takes visitors on a journey through various stages of Canaletto’s life, keeping his Venetian landscapes separate from other artistic ventures.

Interestingly, Canaletto did not only produce paintings of Venetian buildings but experimented with more spartan landscapes. With no structure to portray, these paintings are far less detailed and take on the aura of the religious and mythical artworks of other artists in Italy at the time. These are situated in the centre of the exhibition where the height of the ceiling allows the large canvases to be appreciated fully.

Without a doubt, Canaletto’s paintings of the Grand Canal are some of his finest works. The buildings are so precise, they are comparable with architectural blueprints. On close inspection, these lines may feel too perfect and unnatural, but when viewed on a grand scale, they help to produce an almost photorealistic snapshot of 18th century Venice. What his most significant achievement is, however, the quality of the painting of the canal itself. Whether the waters were as peaceful as depicted will remain forever unknown – Canaletto may have been making use of Capriccio – but his version looks impossible to have been produced by paint alone. Evidence of a paintbrush can be seen in the suggestion of water ripples that have been painstakingly added to the smooth underlayer. On the other hand, the accurate reflection and glass-like quality of the liquid are beyond the realms of comprehension. The eyes know what they are seeing, but the brain cannot believe it to be possible.

Canaletto also used his fantastic skill at architectural drawing to create a series of paintings of the ancient ruins in Rome. These, too, are phenomenally impressive, it feels like it should be possible to reach out and feel the texture of the stone and experience the dusty streets. Alas, the lack of canals in Rome prevents Canaletto from revealing his full range of skill. It is most certainly the combination of buildings and water that stand out the most and wins Canaletto the title of the best Venetian painter of the 1700s.

Canaletto & the Art of Venice will remain available to the public until Sunday 12th November 2017, when it will be dismantled to make way for a new exhibition: Charles II: Art & Power. Tickets are £11 for adults and £5.50 for children over five and are available to purchase on arrival to the Queen’s Gallery. However, during the school holidays, it may be advisable to purchase tickets online in advance.

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Canaletto, Il Canal Grande da Palazzo Flangini verso la Chiesa di San Marcuola, 1738.

Echoes Across the Century

It is impossible to determine which war has been the worst since it is all relative depending on who you are and what country you come from. However, the First World War (1914-1918) is arguably the most devastating the world has seen to date. Millions across the globe were killed, leaving umpteen children fatherless and significantly increasing the population of widows.

Britain was one of the most affected countries by the First World War, wreaking havoc on all of society and severely disrupting day to day life. It is difficult to imagine what the country would have been like during the war years, and the people today who were around at the time were only children.

Echoes Across the Century is an art instalment at the Guildhall Art Gallery in London, which explores the impact World War One had on the British population. Different perspectives are included with a focus on soldiers, the families left behind, and those supplying arms to the Western Front.

Inspired by the personal stories recorded in diaries and letters, and historical objects from the period, children from a variety of schools ageing between 10 and 16, produced artwork expressing their interpretation of the turmoil experienced by their ancestors.

The other purpose of this exhibition is a commemorative act to acknowledge the centenary of the First World War, providing a place of remembrance where visitors can reflect on the excessive number of lives lost. Not only does it open eyes to the horrors of war, it shows the determination of a society to keep on going and survive their inflicted struggle.

Set out to resemble wooden barracks and trenches, complete with sandbags and relevant sound effects, the exhibition begins with displays of items and photographs preserved from the First World War. This helps to set the scene, evoking a sense of the lifestyle and experience of those around at that time. Alongside these examples is an arrangement of artwork inspired by the war, which is later replicated by the children as part of their own wartime project.

The artist, Jane Churchill, was heavily involved with the building of the exhibition and is responsible for the artwork at the commencement of the show. Inspired by the 1917-18 diaries of Jessie Ellman, Jane Churchill used the story of her Great Uncle Lieutenant William Goss Hicks (Ellman’s lover), who died during the First World War, as the foundation of her installations.

After Will’s death, Jessie Ellman created a “boxed world” titled Scene in which all the people are missing. Using an open box, Jessie used a variety of media to build up a scene to represent the loss of her lover. Borrowing this technique, Jane Churchill has produced a variety of boxed worlds, which, titled Collection of Dreams, show scenes representing the feelings of the women who watched their men leave for war never to return.

As visitors make their way around the exhibition, it becomes clear that there is some significance in the painted, paper moths pinned onto walls like scientific specimens. Cut out from paper that had been marbled with different coloured paint, these delicate moths are rather beautiful – the children must have thought so too because many of them have attempted their own versions. However, it is not until the end of the exhibition that an explanation is available. The moths are part of an installation by Jane Churchill titled Degrees of Separation, which, again, was in memoriam of William Goss Hicks. W. G. Hicks died at Sevenoakes alongside his comrades, therefore Jane has created 262 moths, one to represent each man who perished alongside her Great Uncle.

Jane Churchill invited over 240 students from London schools to contribute to the exhibition. Evidently, they were inspired by Jane’s own work with many choosing to replicate the moths and boxed worlds. However, a good number of the young artists came up with their own, unique ideas, largely inspired by artefacts salvaged from soldiers’ pockets after their deaths.

Most of the children will not have a personal connection to the war, so stories and the opportunity to handle wartime objects were the only means of evoking any emotion. A few of the students have studied the correspondence between families, friends, and lovers during the first world war, and have written their own, imagining themselves in that position. It is interesting to see how insightful these children are, despite their significantly contrasting lives.

Naturally, it cannot be expected for a few hundred children to produce aesthetically pleasing, art gallery-worthy artwork, however, their imperfections make them highly suitable for this exhibition. The unsteady hand of the painters and unskilled constructions help to capture the distress and uncertainty of the war era and almost look as if this juvenile style has been used on purpose.

There are eleven sections to the exhibition, which required the children to study different areas of wartime life. Like Jane, some have focused on the fates of the soldiers and the people they left behind, whereas others have been inspired by propaganda, munitions works and popular pastimes (e.g. playing cards).

Despite being mostly developed by children, Echoes Across the Century is as much informative as it is visually interesting. They have successfully conjured up an accurate atmosphere, which for youngsters with no experience of war, could not have been easy. This exhibition is not something you expect to see when visiting the Guildhall Art Gallery and is a stark contrast to the paintings on the floors above.

With only a month remaining, it is worth visiting and appreciating this unique exhibition. It is something that hopefully the children and schools involved with be proud of for years to come.

Giacometti the Obscure

 

Man Pointing 1947 by Alberto Giacometti 1901-1966

Man Pointing, 1947, Tate, London

It has been twenty years since a large display of Giacometti’s surrealist sculptures have been seen in the UK, however, the Tate Modern has reintroduced them to the public with their latest exhibition. Tracing Giacometti’s career and evidencing his interest with different materials, the gallery unveils his immediately recognisable, unique style of sculpture as well as portrait painting, some of which have never been seen before.

Alberto Giacometti (1901-1966) was born in a small village in the Swiss Alps where he was surrounded by paintings produced by his post-impressionist artistic father. After a brief education at the École des Arts et Métiers in Geneva, Giacometti abandoned the taught naturalistic method of sculpture in favour of experimentation. His peculiar style developed further after temporarily joining the Surrealist movement in the early 1930s.

It was after the Second World War when Giacometti finally settled on the elongated style of figures seen in the Tate Modern’s exhibition. These fragile looking sculptures suggest existentially tragedy with their emaciated appearance. This may have been influenced by Giacometti’s friendship with the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Satre.

On entering room one of the exhibition, visitors are subjected to gruesome-looking heads shaped out of clay and plaster – Giacometti’s preferred material. It is obvious from the unevenness of the sculptures that they have been moulded by hand, the pressures of the fingertips evident on the facial features. Although the subject matter is plain to see, the roughness of the texture gives the outcomes a more abstract feel. The proportions of skull and physiognomy are not aligned, resulting in a ghoulish appearance.

The human body remains Giacometti’s main focus throughout his life, moving on from the head to include the rest of the skeletal structure. His full body sculptures give off a sense of unease with their rawness and frailty. Apart from the period when Giacometti worked in miniature, his human depictions are extremely out of proportion. Often the legs are twice the length of the body, and the arms dangle down, muscle-less in an awkward fashion. The statues are painfully thin and inhuman, looking as though, were they not cast in bronze, they could easily snap in half.

Giacometti restricted himself to a minimum of means, using his hands rather than tools to shape and sculpt his figures. He had found his style and stuck to it, putting great care and effort into the work he would be remembered for. Giacometti liked to depict the rawness of reality rather than the ideals of the subconscious mind. As a result, his work is chilling and more likely to leave people cold or nauseated instead of appreciative and awed.

Although Giacometti’s skeletal figures may not be all that appealing, he was still a great influence and impressed many people. However, this was largely on account of his personality and devotion to his work, rather than his outcomes. Simone de Beauvoir, a French writer declared “Success, fame, money – Giacometti was indifferent to them all.”

There were occasions, however, when Giacometti did have to think about money as a means of living, particularly during the 1930s. During this decade, he created art with the intention to sell, focusing on decorative objects such as vases, jewellery and wall reliefs. As the Tate reveals in a cabinet in the third room of the exhibition, these commodities were dissimilar to his bronze sculptures, but still had Giacometti’s unique touch. His gritty, hand-rendered style meant each object was unique, yet, unfortunately, not particularly attractive. However, they must have appealed to someone since they were featured in both Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar magazine.

Despite the fact that sculpture was Giacometti’s primary technique, he also enjoyed painting. Painting was a significant part of his early life, but after moving to Paris, sculpture predominated all else. It was not until the conclusion of the Second World War that Giacometti made a welcome return to the paintbrush and easel. The final rooms of the exhibition display the portraits he produced in this latter period.

Unlike other artists, Giacometti was not interested in painting well-known people or taking commissions. Instead, he preferred to have his mother and brother sit for him, or close friends and acquaintances.

In the same way as his sculptures, Giacometti’s portraits feel raw and unfinished. His artistic style is so unique, it is easy to identify the paintings with his scultpures. The insubstatial, fragile representation of the human body is something which Giacometti portrays regardless of method or material.

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By drawing or painting, Giacometti was able to focus more on facial features and small details, something which was impractical on his wraith-like sculptures. And, although he restricted himself to a small palette, he was free to add touches of colour to his artworks.

Unlike the sculpted figures, it is possible to recognised the sitter (if you know who they are to begin with) represented on the canvas. They are also far more interesting to study. Expressive line work and range of tone add together to reveal a whole host of components to scrutinize.

The paintings, although somewhat abstract, are apprecibly more pleasant to view. Spectators are not subjected to, or repulsed by the nauseatingly skeletal framework of the figurines. Regrettably, there are a significant lack of these illustrations on display – the scultpure taking precedence.

The Tate Modern has done well to create a timeline of Alberto Giacometti’s life, from the beginning of his career until his death at the age of 65. Rather than detailing the works on display, the Tate has provided written information about different time periods and the effects the events within them had on his artistic developments.

Unfortunately, Giacometti’s distinctive techniques will not appeal to everyone; there is no beauty to be found, only intrigue at most. Unless you have a peculiar fascination with obscure scultpure, it is probably not worth paying the entry fee (unless you are a member, in which case you get in for free). This thus poses the question, how long will it be until Giacometti is forgetten about altogether?

2017: Wolfgang Tillmans

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La Palma, 2014

Photographer Wolfgang Tillmans’ debut exhibition 2017 at the Tate Modern is a week away from closing but is still attracting the attention of many visitors. Although born in Remscheid, Germany in 1968, Tillmans has spent many years in the UK and became both the first photographer and the first non-British artist to win the Turner Prize in the year 2000. Most of the works displayed at the Tate today, however, are from 2003 onwards.

Although the exhibited photographs span the past 14 years, 2017 is not a compilation of Tillmans developing style and skill, but rather a focus on the present day. Most people would define a photographer essentially as someone who takes photographs, but Tillmans takes the name to new levels. Each room has been specifically arranged by the artist to help visitors engage with themes of community, politics and society.

Rather than simply hanging photographs on walls, Tillmans has experiemented with whole-room installations, publications, videos and music. As visitors walk around the gallery, they can see snapshots laid out on tables where individual pieces can be studied in detail. The majority of the works that are on the walls are printed on papers of a considerable size, often meaning they are better viewed from a distance. With these mix of approaches, Tillmans is trying to represent how culture and technology shape the way people understand the current world.

Initially, the opening rooms may not enliven onlookers, and, without the provided guide leaflet, may not make sense or mean anything. However, with thanks to the Tate’s written explanations, it becomes clearer that method is just as important for Tillmans as the final outcomes. For instance, Tillmans likes to experiment with technology to show how advanced it has become, comparing digital methods with the outdated manual. For example, Tillmans reveals how much easier it is to photograph an urban night scene from a moving vehicle without the photograph being ruined by blurring. This is a result of the faster shutter speeds the latest cameras possess.

Each room of the exhibition contains a new theme, idea or approach, often displaying photographs from a particular project. One such undertaking is a series of photographs titled Neue Welt in which Tillmans visited the different continents taking snapshots of communal spaces, food, people and still-life, recording the differences and changes that time has had on the different cultures. Some of these are quite beautiful and are a contrast to some of his more abstract works.

Another project is titled Truth Study Center, which is focused less on a photography and more on research. It is in the room that Tillmans has made the most of the scattered tables in order to present his findings. Photographs, newspaper clippings, advertisements and so forth are laid out to express contridictory opinions and statements that have been issued by the government and politicians over the past couple of decades. This study questions what truth is and whether it is possible to trust what individuals, groups or organisations profess.

 

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Shanghai Night, 2009

It is clear from a great number of photographs that Tillmans primary topic of interest is
social life. He believes that everyone is vulnerable and is determined to prove his belief through unstaged imagery. He is particularly concerned with freedom and the interweaving spheres of personal and public life. Tillmans photographs people on the street and contrasts them with pictures of a more private nature, occassionally consisting of nudity.

 

Like many photographers, Tillmans has played around with portraiture, however his commercial outputs, and presumably his method of earning money, are a mix of posters, catalogues, magazine spreads, leaflets and books – principally items that can be mass produced. Examples of these can be found on tables in one of the exhibitions rooms. There are too many to be able to study them in detail, but the underlying theme is prominent. These lucrative formats are a means to express political opinion and contemporary interest. Although these compositions may not make his name known, Tillmans can still impress his views and beliefs over a widespread audience.

Interestingly, since he was born, lives and works in Berlin, Tellmans is passionate about the effects of Brexit, and in 2016, produced a series of posters encouraging British citizens to vote “remain”. Not many of these advertisements are amongst the selection of commercial items, however the photographs used on the designs are displayed in the final room of the exhibition. These images may look like tranquil sea-scapes, but they have an ulterior purpose. Tellmans is intrigued with the tangible lines and borders on the horizon caused by what looks like the meeting of the sea and sky, whereas, in reality, these are fluid. These photographs of the Atlantic Ocean are metaphors for opposing time zones and national frontiers, which may not be causing waves right now, but have the potential to in the future. This is why this series was suitable to illustrate the Brexit posters, because leaving the EU is a journey into the unknown. No one knows how it may affect the “tides”.

These posters were found in an article in the magazine Dezeen.

2017 is an interesting exhibition and not necessarily what you may be expecting. Seeing the processes and research that Wolfgang Tillmans undertakes makes the final outcomes far more meaningful than if viewed solely as artworks with no substantial background information. Unfortunately, as mentioned earlier, the exhibition is finishing soon, the final day being Sunday 11th June. However, there are over 200 photographs on the Tate website for those who wish to receive a basic impression of Tillmans photography, and one series of work (Concorde Grid, 1997) is on show at the Tate Britain as part of the  Walk Through British Art display. There are, of course, books such as Books for Architects, available for purchase.

Michelangelo and the Risen Christ

The current exhibition at the National Gallery, Michelangelo & Sebastiano (I wrote about this a few weeks back) emphasises the impact Christianity – mostly Catholicism – had on artists of the early Renaissance. The Renaissance era itself, a word that means rebirth, was a European movement that brought about the rediscovery of Classical Greek Philosophy, thus painters began refocusing on mythological stories. However, Florentine art during the years of Michelangelo (1475-1564) was still greatly influenced by the Church and papacy.

Whether as a result from commissions, or his own personal preferences, Michelangelo’s artwork suggests a fascination with the resurrection of Christ. Naturally, other biblical scenes were also popular, the birth of Christ for instance, but it is the death and resurrection that was most prominent in the choice of artwork exhibited.

The way Michelangelo chose to depict the body of Christ goes against all logic. Putting cultural misrepresentation aside, the paintings portraying the crucifixion are far too pure and clean, diminishing the pain and horror of death. Rather than presenting a realistic account of events, Michelangelo painted an impression of the immortal soul, rather than flawed, damaged physique. Instead of blood, sweat and tears, Christ is a symbol of celestial beauty and grace.

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As well as paintings, Michelangelo turned to sculpture to demonstrate his version of the Risen Lord. At the beginning of the 16th century, Michelangelo produced two marble statues of The Risen Christ (The Giustiniani Christ). The first attempt was abandoned after a vein of black marble became visible in Christ’s face, thus making it less than perfect. An unknown artist finished the job in the early 17th century.

The second version, located in the church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome, is slightly different. Christ is positioned in a different stance, stepping forward on one foot, suggesting a continuation of the Easter story, rather than concluding it with the resurrection.

 

In both statues, Christ is portrayed nude – presumably because he has only that moment risen from the tomb – clutching a linen cloth and holding up the cross, as if posing in triumph over death.

Michelangelo was not trying to be provocative in his decision to sculpt Jesus nude, he wanted to give the impression of perfection by using this classical form. Unfortunately, this has resulted in unintentionally making Christ appear like a pagan god.

Primarily known for his solo work, Michelangelo held great influence over his Italian contemporary Sebastiano del Piombo (1485-1547). As a result, Sebastiano shares Michelangelo’s aesthetic visions and almost replicates the exact same style. Often the pair would collaborate on a commission, Michelangelo providing initial sketches, and Sebastiano executing the final outcome.

The Borgherini Chapel Project (1516-24) is a significant example of the work produced when the two joined forces. Pierfrancesco Borgherini commissioned Sebastiano to decorate the chapel located in the San Pietro in Montorio church in Rome, however Michelangelo also contributed toward the masterpiece.

50854859_9b53780fde_zThe plan was for Michelangelo to provide Sebastiano with sketches of the design, however due to another commission, Sebastiano was largely left to his own devices. Michelangelo only provided drawings for the lower section, The Flagellation of Christ, but Sebastiano was just as capable of tackling the remaining sections alone.

The resulting artwork has been labelled as the most influential of their joint works, and has resulted in countless interpretations. The National Gallery has recreated the masterpiece through means of 3D printing, which successfully conveys the atmospheric effect of the original.

As with Michelangelo’s statues and paintings of Christ, Sebastiano has retained the god-like aura when painting Jesus’ body. The idea of the artwork is that Christ appears twice, thus telling parts of his death and resurrection: the Flagellation and Transfiguration. In the upper dome, Christ is depicted in a dazzling white, symbolising his purity and flawlessness of character. His disciples look on in awestruck wonder, whilst Moses and Elijah, prophets of the Old Testament, regard the event from either side.

In contrast, the version of Christ in the lower half, the Flagellation, is much darker and distressing. Shown here is Jesus chained to a pillar, being flogged by Romans. Stripped of clothing and in evident pain, his suffering is distinctly illustrated. Yet, Christ is still represented as a superhuman character. His toned body and strong muscles betray Michelangelo’s visualisation of Christ in the same vein as an Ancient Greek or Roman god. Although this is an inaccurate portrayal of the biblical record, it does help to emphasise the primary intention of the artwork. The Flagellation emphasises the corrupt state of Christianity in the early 16th century, whilst the Transfiguration provides hope for a more glorious future.

Were Michelangelo and Sebastiano right to depict Christ in such god-like proportions? Some would argue yes, for he was the son of God. Others would be less inclined to agree. With the latest versions of technology at our disposal, artists and film makers of the 21st century have created more realistic imagery of the New Testament, going as far as to show a convincing amount of blood and emotion. Unlike the angelic Christ of the Renaissance, Jesus has been shown as human, like each and every one of us.

Whether or not you agree with Michelangelo’s unblemished form of the son of God, or you prefer to witness the blood, sweat and tears, it goes without saying that the paintings of the past are shrouded with awe and reverence. It is definitely worth seeing the artworks for yourself – nothing compares to standing directly in front of an original masterpiece.

WARNING: the exhibition closes on 25th June 2017

PS, Happy Easter!

America After the Fall

Painting in the 1930s

Art exhibitions can have various purposes: to show case an artist’s work, to explore a certain style or art movement, to inspire others, etc; but they can also educate you on a variety of subjects. The Royal Academy of Arts is currently running an exhibition that focuses on a particular timeframe and location: 1930s America. Titled America After the Fall, the curators have sourced a large display of paintings from various artists who depict the visual and economic climate during that period. To the ignorant spectator, the choice of artwork may have little significance, however, knowing the historical importance turns them into a perfect illustration of the life of Americans at that time. The academy helpfully supplies a written account and timeline of events around the gallery.

As the title suggests, America had fallen.  On 29th October 1929, the US stock market crashed causing a severe drop in the prices of goods and crops. This was the beginning of what is now labelled the Great Depression, which America took over a decade to start to recover from. These price drops, unfortunately, did not make consumer items cheaper to purchase. Instead, it made them more expensive to produce. Millions of people lost their jobs because their employers could no longer afford to pay them. People were living in poverty, often homeless or living in hand-built communities.

To complicated things further, the population of America was increasing dramatically, principally due to the inrush of Europeans escaping conflict and hoping to find jobs in the rising industrialised cities. As a result, the President and fellow politicians had to step in to resolve the devastating issue. America eventually recovered, but it was not easy. America After the Fall reveals the effects on the common people during this most dramatically changing era.

American Gothic

grant_wood_-_american_gothic_-_google_art_project

This famous painting by Grant Wood (1891-1942) is the poster painting for America After the Fall, and arguably the main attraction. American Gothic (1930), as it is titled, has become one of the key icons of American art due to the principles it symbolises. The late nineteenth century-style house, along with the appropriately dressed, conservative couple represent the importance of family, manual labour and landscape for Americans at the time.

The placement of the two figures says a lot about the way farmers felt about the threat of industrialisation. Filling the canvas from left to right, the man and woman block the path to their home as though they are trying to prevent the viewer or the rest of America from infiltrating their land. The gripped pitchfork and stern faces evoke feelings of hostility and opposition. These are people who have worked hard to achieve results and do not want this taken away from them. Notice, however, only the man directly staring out of the painting. This suggests male dominance and demonstrates the inequalities befalling women at that time.

Daughters of Revolution daughters-of-revolution-1932

Two years after American Gothic, Grant Wood painted another icon of American art. Daughters of Revolution shows a contrasting scene to the rural one above.

Presumably, the three women are mother and daughters and, as the title suggests, were born after the American Revolution. DAR or Daughters of the American Revolution was a group founded in the nineteenth-century for decedents of soldiers who fought in the American War of Independence. Immaculate outfits, neat hairstyles, and a cool gaze emphasise the group’s claim to privilege and superiority.

The framed image in the background is a replica of Washington Crossing the Delaware (1851) by Emanuel Leutze. The year 1932, when Wood painted Daughters of Revolution, marked the bicentenary of George Washington’s birth. Placing the frame behind the women, in what is presumably their home, implies they truly believe in the greatness of their bloodline.

Wood, however, may have been mocking DAR in this painting, giving them plain, simplified faces, rather than features that evoke strong personality. Also, the inclusion of a tea cup is ironic in that it symbolises Britain, the empire they fought to break away from.


There are, of course, plenty of other paintings and artists to see in this exhibition. Additional works by Grant Wood are included amongst similar and contrasting images. What is easily noticeable is the range of styles portrayed across a small timeframe – something that would not have occurred during an earlier period of time. This gives visitors to the Royal Academy the opportunity to understand varying points of view about the crisis in America, as well as view the physical changes and developments of the land and industry.

Some artists, such as Stuart Davis (1892-1964) and Edward Hopper (1882-1967)  concentrate on city life, recording the fast-changing world through their independent styles. Whether these artists were successful at the time is irrelevant to today’s exhibition, what matters is their educational value. By painting an urban scene, artists are not only documenting the changes in physical appearance of the cities, they are reflecting the character of the population.

In constrast to the metropolitan landscapes are the country life focused paintings. Grant Wood is one of the key artists in this area, although as already mentioned, American Gothic and Daughters of Revolution were far superior. While the towns and cities became more industrious, the countryside had to adapt to create suitable roads to connect them together, or even to build new towns. This would not have helped the unemployment situation – the demolishing of farms would mean the termination of jobs and the loss of homes.

Although the landscape paintings show the changes and destruction of the countryside, it is arguably American Gothic that truly captures the effects on the rural population. The despondent feelings are far easier to capture in a face than in a farmland illustration.

Cityscapes and landscapes are not all that the exhibition has to offer. Some artists, instead of focusing on the world around them, looked to the future, producing dystopian scenes of doom and gloom, almost as if they believed the Great Depression a sign of the end times.

Some of these paintings follow a similar style to the previously mentioned, however many take on surrealistic themes, or are expressed in the form of abstract expressionism. Not everyone appreciates or understands these modern art techniques, but it exposes a confusion of feelings and anxieties Americans had at the time.

With hindsight on our side, some of the dystopian ideas may seem farfetched or laughable, but it makes us realise the seriousness the effects the stock market crashing had on an entire nation. Add that to the war brewing in Europe, and you have got yourself a very daunting situation.

America After the Fall is less about who painted what, or how so-and-so achieved such an effect, but rather a history lesson using imagery. The Royal Academy of Arts has achieved a museum-like effectiveness that teaches as much as it entertains – although, in a far more interesting way than a generic textbook or presentation would manage.

With artistic and historical appeal, America After the Fall is worth the visit, however it will not be on display forever. Closing on 4th June 2017, you have a couple of months to see the exhibition before it is too late.