Corea; a cada época, su traje

Será por la lejanía, tanto física como cultural, que Asia siempre fascina. Y si eso pasa ahora que internet hace que cualquier lugar del mundo esté a la vuelta de la esquina, no puedo ni imaginar en la Edad Media o el Renacimiento, cuando la única manera era coger un barco, o un caballo, y tirar millas esquivando ladrones, guerras, temporales y demás aventuras que se pusieran en tu camino. Pero claro, luego lees a Marco Polo y entiendes que la gente se arriesgara.

También está el hecho de que estos países tardaran tanto en abrir sus fronteras al comercio y visitantes extranjeros (muchos de ellos todavía son muy restrictivos y otros ni siquiera te dejan sacar fotos al exterior, sí, hablo de Corea del Norte), por lo que sólo se conocía lo que los evangelizadores que iban a esos países podían contarnos (siempre desde su sesgado punto de vista religioso y moral) y lo que los mismos países querían mandar al extranjero (un poco lo mismo).

Pedro Pablo Rubens, Hombre con traje coreano, 1617.
Carboncillo con toques de sanguina en el rostro, 38,4 x 23,5 cm.
The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Ángeles.

Pese al K-Pop y al Gangman Style,

Boys and their Toys

I have to admit, that despite my degree, I am not much of a news junkie. I found the news in the US entirely too depressing – as they rarely report the whole story or about anything that is worthy of the attention it is given. Seriously guys? The whole nation needs to be let in on the (what will sooner than later be considered an itty-bitty) scandal at Rutgers? Move on; leave Rutgers alone; it’s not relevant to anyone that wasn’t in that video. ::exits THAT soap box::

Peter Paul Rubens, Man in a Korean Costume, 1617.
Black chalk with touches of red chalk in the face, 38.4 x 23.5 cm.
The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles.

So, when the grapevine informed me

Art from the Land of the Rising Sun

Japan, in comparison with many other countries, is rather small, though it ranks tenth amongst the world’s highest populations. More fascinatingly, it has one of the richest and most eclectic art histories to speak of when considering it on its own. Yes, various countries in Europe do this or that, and Africa has a slew of artistic variety, but we’re just talking one country – 6852 islands, if you really want to talk about how amazing Japan’s universally-acknowledged solidarity is.



Utagawa (Ando) Hiroshige, Inside Kameido Tenjin Shrine, 1856.
Woodblock print, 34.1 x 22.2 cm.

Continuously infiltrated by other powers (China, Russia, Germany’s money, and the United States), art in Japan has successfully maintained a focused and healthy presence in the art world since the seventh century – which is not to say there aren’t older relics, but Buddhist art was the first to make an impact. From woodblock prints to Ukiyo-e, and calligraphy to shungas, at the end of the day I would argue that Japan had a larger influence on European art than the other way around. Just a few examples of this hypothesis include Degas, Van Gogh, Monet, and Mucha.



Katsushika Hokusai, The Great Wave of Kanagawa, originally 1826-1833.
Part of the series Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji, no. 21.
Colour woodblock print.

Get over to the Tokyo National Museum to get a glance at the Highlights of Japanese Arts exhibition. Find yourself enthralled with mirrors, picture scrolls, and military attire. Can’t get enough art from The Land of the Rising Sun? Check out Hiroshige by Mikhail Uspensky or Forbidden Asia by Hans Jürgen-Döpp.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

A Realm of Contradiction

Asia: The mystery of the Orient. Exotic people, exotic clothes, and exotic food. Parasols under cherry blossom trees. Staggeringly beautiful pagodas with highly delicate ornamentation. People who are short of stature, but high in courtesy. Humid jungles. Roll upon roll of luxurious carpets. Fragrantly perfumed air enveloping crowded market stalls. A medley of spices waiting to be unleashed.

OR

Asia: Hot. Humid. The short, staccato clamour of horns punctuating the incessant drone of traffic. An acrid stench of mingled fumes and durian pervades the air. Masked and hooded figures driving with abandon, giving rise to the adrenaline rush of death-defying acts of crossing the street. Street food at every corner, same same, but different. Low prices. Highly caffeinated shots of coffee; essential to keep the average visitor awake and alert to this perplexing and enticing setting.



A child and a buffalo, returning from the rice fields

So which is it? Which is the real Asia?

Well, I can honestly say that both descriptions accurately fit the bill. There is nothing straightforward about Asia. Contrasts and contradictions meet you at every turn: surprise and incredulity, victory and defeat, joy and despair. These are all emotions that the average person may experience (and sometimes in rapid succession) upon setting foot on Asian soil. But through it all, a ray of curiosity shines bright. A people, ready to learn and to change, quick to welcome, and quick to share: this is my impression of what has been called The Orient.

It is astounding to me that in the aftermath of such pain and destruction that this part of the world has so recently faced, that human resilience is what shines through the brightest.  Not only resilience, but tenacity, the foresight to educate, and above all, hope. Hope for a better future, for a higher destiny. I see this in the focus on schools, in advancing economies, and in the adoration in the eyes of a child’s grandparents.



Poklong Anading
Counter Acts, 2004
Chromogenic transparency in lightbox, 228.6 x 365.8 cm, edition 3/3
Courtesy of the artist
Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York

Art is another example of how this region of the world is challenging both self-imposed and outside perceptions. In particular, the ongoing exhibit at the Solomon R. Guggenheim museum showcases contemporary Asian art, looking deeper at the cultures of the countries within the continent than the politics and geographies which embroil them.

The Guggenheim’s exhibit: No Country: Contemporary Art for South and Southeast Asia is ongoing until the 22^nd May 2013. If both New York and Asia are a little too far away, why not browse through Jean François Hubert’s book The Art of Champa?

¿Quién lo «desconstantinopolizó»?

¿Quién no ha recitado alguna vez aquello de: «El rey de Constantinopla está constantinopolizado. ¿Quién lo desconstantinopolizará? El desconstantinopolizador que lo desconstantinopolizare, buen desconstantinopolizador será»? Aparte de un buen recurso para los trabalenguas, Constantinopla, actual Estambul turca y antigua Bizancio griega, fue la flamante capital del Imperio bizantino, superviviente de la caída del Imperio romano de Occidente.

En el siglo VII, este imperio, que se llamó «griego» en referencia a la predominancia de esta lengua y se convirtió en un verdadero bastión del cristianismo, se extendía desde Siria hasta Egipto y por algunas regiones del norte de África. No obstante, en apenas unos siglos, las provincias del sur de Asia que eran centrales para la tradición bizantina sucumbieron ante la imparable expansión del mundo islámico. La época de mayor esplendor de este imperio había llegado a su fin.

Antes de que las dinastías árabes se hicieran con el control de estos territorios, ya se había inaugurado la basílica justiniana de Santa Sofía (en el año 537), el máximo exponente del arte bizantino. Concebido como templo cristiano, este «cielo en la tierra» se utilizó como mezquita tras la caída de Constantinopla hasta que, en 1935, se habilitó como museo.


Cristo Pantocrátor (detalle), 1280.
Mosaico de la déesis.
Santa Sofía, Estambul.

Volviendo al tema lingüístico, la palabra «bizantina» también se emplea en español para referirse a las discusiones artificiosas o demasiado sutiles. Puede que, en efecto, consideres que el arte bizantino es una cuestión intrascendente en estos tiempos, pero la innovación no se puede escindir de la historia. Gaudí, por ejemplo, afirmaba que continuó sus investigaciones arquitectónicas donde las dejaron los bizantinos, y también se pueden ver influencias de este arte en sus mosaicos. Otro artista que se ha dejado seducir por la espiritualidad del arte bizantino es el neoyorquino Manny Vega, que utiliza las técnicas bizantinas para crear mosaicos de santos, héroes, bailarines y músicos que se mueven a ritmo de hip hop.

El MET de Nueva York comparte la fascinación por el arte bizantino y, por ello, ha organizado la exposición Byzantium and Islam: Age of Transition, que permanecerá abierta hasta el 18 de julio de 2012. Si no puedes dejarte maravillar por los coloridos cuadros, las sofisticadas obras textiles, los mosaicos, los códices, los iconos, las representaciones del pantocrátor y el resto de obras expuestas, te recomendamos los libros Byzantine art o Central Asian Art (este último también disponible en formato electrónico).

...With one, we cannot have the other

Art of the Middle East is facing the same fate as the museums, works of art, and buildings that stood before World War II and, more recently, the Arab Spring. The Pearl Monument, formerly of Bahrain, was torn down by the Bahraini government last year because it was a point of interest for protestors. The Taliban has destroyed Buddhist art in Afghanistan, most specifically the Buddhas of Bamiyan in 2001. Already, works from Pakistan have been delayed in joining their counterparts in exhibitions, while important Egyptian pieces were left behind altogether amidst its revolution.

When will it end? When will the selfish pursuits of some stop affecting cultural preservation and future enlightenment? Is it only a matter of time until majesty of The Registan (from left to right below: Ulugh Beg Madrasah, Tilya-Kori Madrasah, and Sher-Dor Madrasah) of Samarkand is destroyed?



Visit remnants of historical Islamic art which still remain at The Metropolitan Museum of Art exhibition, Byzantium and Islam: Age of Transition, through 18 July 2012. Also, bring these images home in Central Asian Art and Art of Islam, which are available as both ebooks and print books.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

War and art...

War, what is it good for? An age old question to which I can say: certainly not preserving art or cultural artefacts, nor fostering an atmosphere which might encourage visitors despite the destruction and neglect of surrounding areas caused by war.

After developing an affinity for the images of mosques, madrasahs, and minarets of Central Asia, I find myself torn at the idea of crossing war paths to follow cultural trails.

Consider, for example, the seventh-century crisis in which Constantinople (now Istanbul) already faced with natural disasters and civil wars, as it struggled with religious and political strife. The Ottoman’s further decimated the already under-populated and decimated city in the 1300s, from which only a few items survived and are still available for view. The rest of the Byzantine works were destroyed, stolen, damaged, or simply “lost”.

A vast majority of Byzantine art was almost entirely concerned with religious expression which went on to have a significant impact on the art of the Italian Renaissance. What little art was left found itself in Russia, Serbia, and Greece. Featured below is a piece which remained in Constantinople/Istanbul which serves as a lasting example of the surviving art of Byzantium.


Christ Pantocrator (detail), 1280.
Deisis mosaic.
Hagia Sophia, Istanbul.

I’m pretty sure photos, paintings, and carvings will never do the wonder and beauty of what Byzantium once was, but can see some of what’s left for yourself at The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s  Byzantium and Islam: Age of Transition exhibition through 18 July 2012. Furthermore, bring these images home in the form of this finely illustrated Byzantine Art ebook (also available in printed format).
-Le Lorrain Andrews