Bite 125: Bridget Riley - Cataract 3, 1967

Cataract 3, 1967, emulsion on canvas, 222 x 223 cm, British Council, London

Painstakingly applied emulsion in a strict mathematical pattern gives the optical illusion of movement and depth. The work, impossible to see for what it is ('merely' paint on canvas), tricks the brain into seeing its waves and colours as regressions, an alive surface.

'Representation' itself is called into question. Our eyes cannot be trusted.

Bite 124: Barnett Newman - Midnight Blue, 1970

Midnight Blue, 1970, oil & acrylic on canvas, 193 x 239 cm, Museum Ludwig, Cologne

A light blue rod grounds the painting. A section of white on the extreme left provides contrast. Between: a balanced ocean of dark, vibrant colour - midnight blue indeed.

A painting to get lost in.

Bite 123: Henry Wallis - The Death of Chatterton, 1856

The Death of Chatterton, 1856, oil on canvas, 91 x 60 cm, Tate Britain, London

"Cold penury repress'd his noble rage,
And froze the genial current of his soul.
Now prompts the Muse poetic lays,
And high my bosom beats with love of Praise!
But, Chatterton! methinks I hear thy name,
For cold my Fancy grows, and dead each Hope of Fame."

               - Samuel Taylor Coleridge (from Monody on the Death of Chatterton, 1790)

Martyred to Art, Chatterton's pale corpse, reminiscent of the Pietà, lies in his bohemian quarters, a vial of poison on the floor, fallen from his hand; his hair of fire symbolising the deep passion which has led him to take his own life.

An overflowing chest contains the remnants of the unrecognised poetry of this earnest young artist, torn in despair at his failure. A candle has only just gone out; the window above, open, to allow his soul to depart. Beyond is the distant city, the world which ignored this tragic poet, leading him to a drastic - yet 'noble' - decision.

"Without Art I am nothing."

Bite 122: Mark Leckey - GreenScreenRefrigeratorAction, 2010

GreenScreenRefrigeratorAction, 2010, Samsung smart refrigerator, Samsung television, infinity green screen

An empty smart-fridge ready-made sits in the liminal space of an 'infinity' green-screen - used to superimpose the appliance into any given background. Nearby a screen plays a complex video of the object moving through space, showing its inner-workings and the sources of material that have brought it about. Throughout this collage (embedded above) the refrigerator speaks - as 'smart' ones do. But instead of detailing its gastronomical contents it speaks of its own processes, the chemicals living and reacting within its own shell. 

"My goal is to keep cold," it states, as if it were a person with a purpose and ambitions if its own. The artist himself, on a green stool with a green blanket draped over him, sits behind the large black object, completing the work. He speaks along with the appliance, becoming one with it, disappearing. "Becoming gas, becoming liquid, becoming vapour, becoming, becoming, becoming, becoming..."

The primordial, the Sun and the Moon, the past, the present, the future: all culminate in this futuristic object which sits in the kitchen, reliable and present - a member of the family.

"They ask and they answer. Above, below."


Currently on show at Serpentine Gallery, London, as part of Mark Leckey's exhibition See, We Assemble.

Bite 121: Dirk Skreber - Untitled (Crash 1), 2009

Untitled (Crash 1), 2009, Red Mitsubishi Eclipse Spider 2001, 292 x 323 x 236 cm, Saatchi Gallery, London

Moving objects around us everyday bristle with dangerous potential energy and power, often with the possibility of destruction. Suspended above the ground, frozen in the moment of releasing its raw power, a car (or what previously was one) is wrapped around a pole, created by carefully choreographing an accident in a controlled environment.

"If you pass an accident and see a car like this, it's occupied by tragic thoughts for the people that would be involved, and you might see blood," Skreber says. "This work gives you an opportunity to see the things like in a dream. It's clean and polished and abstract." Walking around it gives the surreal impression of a three-dimensional photograph, a collision stopped mid-motion.


Currently showing in the exhibition The Shape of Things to Come: New Sculpture at the Saatchi Gallery in London.

Sources:

www.amusingplanet.com

Bite 120: Kris Martin - Summit, 2009

Summit, 2009, found stone, paper crosses, ink, Saatchi Gallery, London

A simple paper cross, a symbol redolent in meaning, from religion and death to territorial domination and colonialism, transforms a large, found rock - earthy and primitive - into a great mountain with towering cliff-faces. 

Eight such pieces make up the work Summit, an experiment in perception and a testament to the futility of human ambitions. "The top is nice when you haven't reached it,” Martin has said. “But once you get [there], the potential is gone. Dreams are what keep people going.” 

Each monolith with its flimsy token to land conquered becomes a silent memorial to human dreams, forgotten and achieved; to the sublimity of nature, and the inevitability of death.

“For me, they're all very dangerous, mountains… They're filled with a dangerous power, especially for puny little human beings, like we are.”

Currently showing in the exhibition The Shape of Things to Come: New Sculpture at the Saatchi Gallery in London.

Images & Quotes:

www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk

Bite 119: Paul Gauguin - Nevermore, 1897

Nevermore, 1897, oil on canvas, 61 x 116 cm, Courtauld Gallery, London

"Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.' 

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore'."

                                                 - Edgar Allan Poe, from The Raven

Bite 118: George Segal - The Restaurant Window, 1967

The Restaurant Window, 1967, mixed media, 244 x 351 x 175 cm, Museum Ludwig, Cologne

An Edward Hopper painting become sculpture, the lonely figures are re-imagined in white plaster. A passing moment in a desolate restaurant at night is crystallised; the chair, table and window represent themselves, while the white figures - cast directly from life - are pillars of salt, frozen in time. Standing nearby, their alien presence enters your own space. Memorials of a forgotten moment of silence between passing strangers. 

Bite 117: Thomas Struth - Museo del Prado 7, Madrid, 2005

Museo del Prado 7, Madrid, 2005, C-Print, 178 x 219 cm

"I first started taking photographs of people in museums in the early 1990s. I went to the Prado in Madrid and was flabbergasted by one particular painting, Las Meninas by Velásquez. It was so close to my own interests. I thought: "Jesus Christ, why did nobody tell me about this?" And yet I never photographed it until 2005. I don't know why. 

"When I went back to it, it marked a moment of evolution for me. I decided that I had to try something different: I had to stand inside the groups of viewers, creating a greater intimacy between the people viewing the painting and those depicted in it. 

"I worked there for seven days, eight hours a day, and I noticed how the school groups stood very close to the picture, almost touching it with their elbows. I like the two guys [at the left] of this image, who look very sceptical about what the guide is saying about the painting. I find that funny. Evidently, they mistrust the situation. Perhaps they would rather have a beer."

                                                                         - Thomas Struth 

Source:

www.guardian.co.uk

Bite 116: Salvador Dali - Anthropomorphic Chest of Drawers, 1936

Anthropomorphic Chest of Drawers, 1936, oil on wood, 25 x 43 cm, K20, Düsseldorf

Frail hand extended, rejecting the outside world, a disjointed figure - a chest of drawers for a chest - looks within itself, head down. Drawers pulled out, darkness within, the exterior world represented in the top right corner (it appears to be Cologne with its double-spired cathedral), seems to retreat, casting an ethereal light on the disconcerting figure.

A small oil painting on wood with a large frame, the work typifies Dali's approach as a skilled painter referencing the style of the old-masters, while the subject matter sits is stark contrast to this technique, showing a woman simultaneously opening up and withdrawing.

A manifestation of Freudian internalisation and reclusion, the woman (with draw-handles for nipples) is engrossed by the drawers that have spontaneously opened from within her, threatening to disclose their contents - her interior world -, a white cloth protruding from one. In this sense the anthropomorphic cabinet becomes a symbol of psychoanalysis. This motif appears in other forms in Dali's work such as the sculpture/furniture piece Venus de Milo with Chest of Drawers (1936/64) which stands near Anthropomorphic Chest of Drawers in Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen (K20).

Archive Bookstore

Five minutes walk from my apartment, on Bell St, between the Marylebone and Edgware Rd tube stations, there is a small bookshop with a basement: Archive Books and Music.

It is just as second-hand bookshops should be: cramped, messy, disorganised, books pouring out onto the street, and with that 'old book smell'. 

With a fantastic array of art books, philosophy tomes and novels, all very reasonably priced, floor to high-ceiling shelves and teetering piles of boxes hold endless promises of hidden gems. "A browser's delight!" indeed.

Down a flight of winding stairs is the basement where a plethora of used sheet-music - vocal, orchestral and otherwise - towers around a wonderfully old, out-of-tune piano. Music is heard from this dark basement as you browse away the hours upstairs, overhearing the owner and his assistant (dressed in a thick apron as if he were a carpenter) as they natter away with regulars on an assortment of topics. I will surely become one of those regulars, before too long.

Image:

www.archivebookstore.co.uk

Break

"Art is the only way to run away without leaving home."

                                                 - Twyla Tharp

I am taking a short break this week. I am going to Germany. Posts will resume after the long weekend.

Bite 115: Jan van Eyck - Portrait of a Man (Self Portrait?), 1433

Portrait of a Man (Self Portrait?), 1433, oil on oak, 26 x 19 cm, National Gallery, London

A head, almost certainly that of the artist, emerges from darkness. His piercing eyes and ambiguous expression confront the viewer from beneath a red headpiece, light accentuating red detailing. 

The frame, also by the artist, is inscribed, trompe l'oeil - to give the illusion of carving - with the words "Als Ich Can," a pun in Greek meaning "As I/Eyck Can," and below with, "Jan van Eyck made me on 21 October 1433." These references, along with the slight turn of the man's head and his penetrating gaze, strongly suggests at the painting being a self-portrait.

Bite 114: Jan van Eyck - The Arnolfini Portrait, 1434

Portrait of Giovanni (?) Arnolfini and his Wife (The Arnolfini Portrait), 1434,
oil on oak, 82 x 60 cm, National Gallery, London

Redolent in symbolism, this mysterious painting has been the subject of much conjecture among art historians.

The woman, thought to be Giovanna Cenami, is not believed to be pregnant here, despite appearances. This, along with the dog, fruit and bed, can be seen instead as indicative of fertility, in what many scholars believe to be a marriage or betrothal portrait. Whether this be the case or not, an oath is none-the-less seen to be taking place - Giovanni raising his hand and Giovanna lowering and opening hers. Extravagantly attired in highly expensive winter clothing the couple stands in the front room of their house, on the second story, with cherry blossoms outside suggesting early spring - further adding to the confusion surrounding this Early-Netherlandish work (a very early example of oil on wood instead of tempura).

Thoroughly justifying the extraordinarily fame of this work, however, more even than its remarkable realism and painstaking illusionistic technique, is the convex mirror and inscription in the centre of the painting, on the far wall behind the couple. In the round glass can be seen the backs of the Arnolfinis and a man in front of them holding up his hand, widely accepted to be the artist himself. Above this is transcribed (some even believe legally notorised): "Jan van Eyck has been here." This gesture of authorship attests to the role of the artist as witness, while also being a bold statement on consciousness and the human ego. 

Bite 113: Do Ho Suh - Staircase-V, 2008

Staircase-V, 2008, polyester and stainless steel tubes,
staircase: 108 x 261 x 76 cm, Tate Modern

Korean artist Do Ho Suh uses the delicate medium of fabric to recreate, in life-size, interior domestic spaces. With his ongoing work Seoul Home/L.A. Home/New York Home..., where the artist transports a recreation of his childhood home in Korea with him as he relocates, showing it in galleries all over the world. With Staircase-V he brings the staircase from his Chelsea, New York apartment into a London art museum.

The ceiling above becomes fabric. The intricate staircase, with detailing - balustrade and light-fixtures - falls, life-size, into the empty space beneath. Translucent and oddly comforting, parred-down yet homely. Zen and minimal while remaining refreshingly personal.

Image:
No Balance Palace

Bite 112: J.M.W. Turner - Sun Setting over a Lake, c. 1840

Sun Setting over a Lake, c. 1840, oil on canvas, 107 x 138 cm, Tate Britain

"Turner lived in a cellar. Once a week he had the shutters suddenly flung open, and then what incandescence! What dazzlement! What jewels!"                  

                                                         - Henri Matisse, 1943

Bite 111: J.M.W. Turner - Self-Portrait, 1799

Self-Portrait, 1799, oil on canvas, 74 x 58 cm, Tate Britain

At 24 Turner has just been made an Associate at the Royal Academy. He paints himself, almost life-size, confident and dapper, standing tall - yet with perhaps a hint of self-doubt. He gazes, front on, directly at the viewer, head protruding from a tight jacket, willing himself to be undaunted. 

He is tremendously present in a bold statement of who he believes he could be.

Contained and silent. Yet brimming just beneath the surface: a violent energy - like that in his later marine paintings; his billowing white scarf even prophetic of this. With thick, confident brushwork, he bristles with potential and possibility - and the lingering fear that he may in the end amount to nothing.

It is this paradox of ambition, in an expertly understated and transcendent work, which reaches across centuries to confront the viewer as if to say: "You may be young and a little scared, but dare to believe you have something unique to offer the world."

Turner certainly did. He went on to become the dominant figure in English Romanticism, and the key forerunner to Impressionism.

Bite 110: Francisco de Goya - Pilgrimage to the Hermitage of St. Isidore, 1819-23

 Pilgrimage to the Hermitage of St. Isidore, 1819-23, oil mural transferred to canvas, 139 x 436 cm, Prado

Over 30 years after Festival at the Meadow of San Isadore, when Goya is deaf and isolated, at the end of his career and near the end of his life, he paints, on the wall of his house, a scene from the same theme. Yet, could two works from the same artist be more contrasting?

Here the pilgrimage becomes a terrifying nightmare. A pilgrim in the front of the procession plucks on strings, mouth gaping more in a silent scream than a song, his head twisted, maniacal eyes rolled back. Behind him faces contort in pain and bow in melancholy, others smile sinisterly. The great mass of people under the dark sky speaks powerfully of the futility of the human condition.

This is a procession of death, a vision of hell on earth, Apocalypse.

Bite 109: Francisco de Goya - Festival at the Meadow of San Isadore, 1788

Festival at the Meadow of San Isadore, 1788, oil on canvas, 44 x 94 cm, Prado

Painted as a sketch for a tapestry which was never completed, Festival at the Meadow of San Isadore shows festival goers and pilgrims celebrating the the feast day of St. Isidore the Labourer, patron saint of Madrid. The festival is the most popular in the Spanish calender, still celebrated today on May 15th each year.

The background, one of the best examples of Goya's landscape painting, shows the panorama of the city of Madrid with several recognisable buildings. The foreground exemplifies his skill in character studies, presenting Spanish people from all walks of life, brought together in joyous celebration on a warm spring day. The crowds of people draw us into the composition as they celebrate their city and their country.

Bite 108: Francisco de Goya - Two Old Men Eating Soup, 1819-23

Two Old Men Eating Soup, 1819-23, oil mural transferred to canvas, 49 x 83 cm, Prado

Thick, loose brushwork, paint expertly applied by a highly experienced hand conveys a nightmarish scene with minimal form. Yet it is all the more sinister for it. 

The gender of the subjects appearing out of the darkness is only supposed. They could very well be witches (a common type throughout Goya's oeuvre). The right figure however, barely there at all with its dark skull-like head, is most likely the apparition of death itself; pointing, along with the other sinister grinning figure, at a spoon, inviting someone - you - to dinner.

Bite 107: Francisco de Goya - Saturn Devouring His Son, 1819-23

Saturn Devouring His Son, 1819-23,
oil mural transferred from canvas,  143 x 81 cm, Prado

Imagine looking at this painting everyday, on the wall of your house. Piercing wide eyes maniacally peering back at you through the darkness from behind a half eaten corpse.

Saturn Devouring His Son was among the so called Black Paintings found on the walls of Goya's house, Quinta del Sordo (Villa of the Deaf Man) - named for a previous resident, although Goya was also deaf when he lived there.

The subject here, taken from Greek mythology, is Titan Cronus (romanitised as Saturn), who, fearing that his children would overthrow him, ate each one at birth. He desperately grasps his child, possessed and demented, its gory stump of an arm protruding from the creatures wide, black mouth.

As with all of the Black Paintings - particularly The Dog - their intended meaning can only be guessed at. None-the-less, largely due to this enigmatic quality, they continue to haunt and inspire.

Bite 106: Francisco de Goya - The Dog, 1819-23

The Dog, 1819-23, oil mural transferred to canvas, 132 x 79 cm, Prado

Appearing to sink into the sand behind a dune, a dog, only its head showing above the surface, pleads desperately with its eyes, gazing up ominously. Filled with human emotion the animal is the epitome of helplessness, lost and alone, silent in its agony. 

The empty space above, minimal, a precursor to abstraction (Rothko before Rothko), further emphasises the fate of the animal, and, it its sublimity, the work is a powerful comment on the human condition. Have we not all been where this simply but effectively painted dog is, at some point in our lives?

Bite 105: John Singer Sargent - Paul Helleu Sketching with His Wife, 1889

Paul Helleu Sketching with His Wife, 1889, oil on canvas, 66 × 81 cm, Brooklyn Museum, NY

Paul Helleu sketches en plein air, his wife at his side. An artistic collaboration as well as marriage, their bright hats mirror as they sit close on the grass. Yet Paul, head down, regards his canvas, deftly applying paint from his palette, while Alice, almost deathly pale, looks meditatively into the distance. They appear content to sit in silence, within their own worlds.

Painted by their good friend John Singer Sargent, the complex composition and framing reflects the influence of the invention of photography on 19th century painting. The cropping of Alice on the right and the canoe at left transforms the intimate scene into a vignette of a larger scene, adding dynamism and realism to the representation.

Bite 104: Paul César Helleu - Madame Paul Helleu, 1894

 Madame Paul Helleu, 1894, pastel on blue paper, 48 x 31 cm, Musée d'Orsay, Paris

A women of the utmost elegance and grace, Madame Alice Helleu (the artist's wife) reclines on a chair. Perhaps after a long evening among the Parisian aristocracy, she stills wears her fashionable evening dress and gloves. 

This intimate portrait is exquisitely drawn with a pale averted face, dark contours and expert, loose colouring. The result is a small but captivating image of a tender moment at the end of a day.

Bite 103: Arman - L'Heure Pour Tous, 1985

L'Heure Pour Tous, 1985, bronze, 700 cm tall, Gare St. Lazare, Paris

"Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life."

                                                  - William Faulkner

Outside a train station in Paris (the Gare St. Lazare to be exact) there is an accumulation of bronze clocks. 

L'Heure Pour Tous (Time for All), with its many faces, looks down on hundreds of Parisians and tourists everyday, rushing by. All with somewhere to go, a train to catch, a deadline to meet - a clock to beat.

To stop and look up at these clocks you see that they do not move. They are all stopped on different times. It becomes a silent memorial to lost time.

Bite 102: Pierre Bonnard - Back of a Nude at Her Bath, 1934

Back of a Nude at Her Bath, 1934, oil on canvas, 107 x 74 cm, Pompidou

Marthe disappears against the wall of her bathroom, bright yellow. She is in her element, within herself, turned from the viewer. 

Bonnard paints his obsession, his muse. His art is a manifestation of their intimacy, painting as tender caress. 

Bite 101: Pierre Bonnard - Woman Lying on a Bed, 1899

Woman Lying on a Bed, 1899, oil on canvas, 96 x 106 cm, Musée d'Orsay

The bed - a landscape, tilted toward the viewer, with post-coital sheets bathed in soft late afternoon light.

The woman - Marthe, the artist's bath obsessed, highly-strung muse (and later wife), dozes, tautly, her left leg at a right angle to her right, exposing her sex.

Smoke from a pipe rises before her, evidence of the the artist (and voyeur), Bonnard.

This is the distillation of a moment, filled with intensity in its atmospheric portrayal.  A domestic world, layered with private meaning.

Bite 100: Anish Kapoor - When I am Pregnant, 1992

When I am Pregnant, 1992, fibreglass and paint, 198 x 152 x 15 cm

"The idea that if I empty out all the content and just make something that is an empty form, I don't empty out the content at all. The content is there in a way that is more surprising than if I tried to make a content."

                                                         - Anish Kapoor

Standing before the wall of the gallery (top image) there appears to be a skillfully painted aberration. The work only reveals itself when seen in profile - it consists of a perfectly executed bulge protruding seamlessly from the white gallery wall.

In a sentence: Kapoor recontextualises the idea of 'the painted surface', in the language of architecture, through a witty visual pun on the mythologised 'white wall' of the contemporary gallery and the clichéd idea of the artist 'pregnated' in the service of 'Art'.

Yet this is art that to be understood must be experienced.

An all-encompassing art experience, the work has no beginning and no end - it is nothing and it is the entire wall, the entire room (All of this and nothing). Altering the viewers perception of the space, it is a radical inversion of the 'art object'; art as absence, void. Pure concept actualised in being viewed.

This is art that to be strictly 'understood' is to miss the point entirely.


Currently installed at Manchester Art Gallery as part of the exhibition Flashback.

Images:
Made By Gemma

Bite 99: Dante Gabriel Rossetti - Astarte Syriaca, 1875-77

Astarte Syriaca, 1875-77, oil on canvas, 183 x 107 cm, Manchester Art Gallery

"Mystery: lo! betwixt the Sun and Moon
Astarte of the Syrians: Venus Queen
Ere Aphrodite ever was."

                - Rossetti (poem on frame)

This claustrophobic painting presents a goddess, bathed in golden, lightflanked by angels gazing heavenward. "One face looks out from his canvases," Christina Rossetti, the artist's sister wrote, "Not as she is, but as she fills his dreams." This frank line eloquently sums up Rossetti's art: A glimpse into his private world, his interior passions, and dangerous sexual fantasies and anxieties.

The 'one face' Christina speaks of is Jane Morris, his muse, his lover, his obsession - the wife of his friend William Morris - and the restrained Venus here. The painting may be somewhat overworked and awkward in execution (he in fact preferred poetry), as much Pre-Raphaelite work can tend to be. But with her held gaze and elegant pose, cloth sensually against her skin and falling from her shoulder, Astarte Syriaca maintains a profound, bewitching presence.

Sources:

Michael Howard, Upclose: Manchester Art Gallery, Scala, 2002.

Bite 98: Sir. John Millais - Autumn Leaves, 1855-56

Autumn Leaves, 1855-56, oil on canvas, 104 x 74 cm, Manchester Art Gallery, UK

"Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast
Wails in the key-hold, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent summer dealt.
Dear friends, together in the glimmering eve,
Pensive and glad, with tones that recognise
The soft invisible dew in each one's eyes,
It may be, somewhat thus we shall have leave
To walk with memory,--when distant lies
Poor Earth, where we were wont to live and grieve."

                      - William Allington, Autumnal Sonnet

"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking on the days that are no more."

                       - Tennyson, from The Princess