Where’s The Respect?

Animals:  We keep them as pets; use them for food, clothing, and transportation; we travel thousands of miles to see them on safari; gawk at them in zoos; revere them in certain religions; abhor them and call them vermin; experiment on them for medicine and for beauty; work alongside them in certain jobs; use them therapeutically; compete them; bet on them; cage them; free them; hurt them; heal them; study them; and learn from them. They truly are deeply ingrained into our way of life, and have been since the dawn of time. 

 

Andy Warhol
Panda Bear, 1983
Acrylic paint and silkscreen on canvas, 24.9 x 19.9 cm
Bruno Bischofberger collection, Zurich

 

Our treatment of our (usually) four-legged friends, as a society, differs greatly from one country to the next. Whilst in America, dogs may be getting used to being fed from the table and being dressed up in all kinds of (some would say ridiculous) outfits, in South Africa they are regarded predominantly as guard dogs, and are kept outside. In places where animals run wild, they fight for survival, and fully own the great expanse of space which they are privy to. Outside of these far-flung lands, these same animals are locked up and fed and watered on a schedule that runs like clockwork.

Certain animals have found themselves with a celebrity status, internet memes being responsible for some (Grumpy Cat?!), whilst merely belonging to an actual celebrity works for others. Tinkerbell, for example, Paris Hilton’s prize pooch, has earned some big celebrity miles due to being constantly photographed in Ms Hilton’s handbag. Max and Bubbles are perhaps two of the more unusual celebrity animals which have been thrown into the spotlight, belonging to George Clooney and the late Michael Jackson respectively. Bubbles is the high-maintenance chimpanzee who had to be re-housed in an Ape Center in Florida due to aggressive tendencies, and Max was Mr Clooney’s beloved potbellied pig, and constant companion for over 19 years until his death (the pig’s, not Clooney’s).

 

Edouard Manet
The Cats' Rendezvous, 1868
Lithograph, 43.5 x 33.2 cm
Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

 

I find it extremely strange that, as humans, we treat animals with such different attitudes. In general, I think we need to start showing animals a little more respect. Yes, certainly let us continue to use them in our daily lives, but humanely – be it as pets or in zoos. (Is dressing an animal up and spoiling it really the best thing for that animal? I don’t think so...) And above all, we must be far more respectful of the natural habitats of many of the world’s animal species. Conservation is a term which people should definitely make a little more room for in their vocabulary! On behalf of all the unsung Maxes, Bubbles, and Tinkerbells out there, I’ll give a little shout out to Aretha Franklin... all together now, R-E-S-P-E-C-T...

 

To see how animals have been treated in art, you need go no further than the Fine Arts Museum of San Diego, which is currently hosting a comprehensive exhibition of Artful Animals until the 28^th of April. Otherwise, why not check out John Bascom’s Beauty of the Beast?

Señoritas de pro

«Tienes ya edad, Jo, de dejar trucos de muchachos y conducirte mejor». Esto le decía la mayor de las hermanas March a Josephine, caracterizada por su aire masculino y su fuerte carácter. Mujercitas, el clásico de Louisa May Alcott que narra la evolución personal de cuatro jóvenes en los años de la Guerra de Secesión estadounidense, fue sin duda una revolución en la literatura estadounidense del siglo XIX y una de las lecturas favoritas de muchas niñas –y no tantos niños– de todo el mundo, incluidas la que escribe y Rachel, de Friends.

Ahora bien, ¿en qué sentido fue transgresora esta novela para niñas —por desafortunada y «decimonónica» que resulte esta clasificación—? Pese a que en el siglo XIX se desechara la idea de que la infancia era una etapa maleable e insignificante de la vida imperante en el siglo anterior, ésta fue sustituida por una concepción virginal de las niñas a comienzos del nuevo siglo. Las niñas no debían ser otra cosa que inocentes angelitos, preocupadas por la moda, la higiene y los quehaceres domésticos. «Niñas antiguas» vestidas de blanco, con pololos y puntillas, enaguas y fajas de raso en tonos pastel, como la pequeña Fanny Travis Cochran retratada magistralmente por Cecilia Beaux.



Cecilia Beaux, Fanny Travis Cochran, 1887.
Óleo sobre lienzo, 91,4 x 74,1 cm.
Donación de Fanny Travis Cochran
Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts 1955.12, Filadelfia, Pensilvania.

En contraste con esta imagen, Jo March encarna las transformaciones que se operaron en la percepción de la niñez a lo largo del siglo: una niña podía ser algo más que una futura señorita; podía ser creativa, independiente y decidida, anhelar la libertad de los chicos y tener ambición.

Esto bien lo saben los organizadores de la exposición itinerante «Angels and Tomboys – Girlhood in Nineteenth-Centurty American Art», que explora el papel de las niñas y adolescentes en la pintura, la escultura, los grabados, la fotografía y la literatura estadounidenses en el siglo XIX. Pone de manifiesto que, además de niñas angelicales sumisas e insustanciales, también existían niñas desgarbadas que se comportaban como chicos, niñas que habrían preferido combatir en una guerra que destruyó hogares en lugar de quedarse en casa haciendo calceta, niñas obligadas a trabajar y adolescentes que debían hacerse mujeres muy a su pesar.



Abbott Handerson Thayer, Ángel, 1887.
Óleo sobre lienzo; 92 x 71,5 cm.
1929.6.112.
Donación de John Gellatly.
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington D. C.

Abbott Handerson Thayer pintó una alegoría de su hija como un ángel custodio que brindara salud a su mujer, hospitalizada por «histeria». No obstante, el rostro del ángel, como el de Fanny Travis Cochran, tiene un aire reflexivo y de introspección que parece expresar su inconformidad ante la extendida práctica de internar a cualquier mujer insatisfecha.

Ésta y otras criaturas angelicales estarán expuestas en el Memphis Brooks Museum of Art hasta el 12 de mayo de este año. No obstante, si te faltan las alas para viajar hasta allí, puedes consolarte con algunas de las más bellas representaciones de sus portadores divinos recogidas en Ángeles de Klaus Carl.

Chicago and Picasso

I have to admit, I’ve had a bit of a crush on Chicago for a long time. Not because it’s cold or windy, or for any of its sports teams. I’m not a fan of deep dish pizza; hot dogs gross me out for the most part. Al Capone is pretty big to speak of, I suppose, but mob ‘outfits’ strike me as excessive and silly. One positive note thus far: I’ve heard amazing things about O’Hare International. Oh, and since the Chicago Fire of 1871, the city rightfully boasts superior urban planning.



Pablo Picasso, Woman with a Helmet of Hair, 1904.
Gouache on tan wood pulp board, 42.7 x 31.3 cm.
The Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

So what is it that has me perpetually itching to check out this mid-western city for an indeterminable period of time? I’m pretty keen on the people – they’re all kind and witty, they don’t take themselves too seriously, and they seem to hold the mid-western charm sans dopey accent. And perhaps the entire east coast could stand to have a bit of that rubbed off on them.



Pablo Picasso, Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, 1910.
Oil on canvas, 100.4 x 72.4 cm.
The Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

More, most importantly, really, the art and cultural scene hold their own when it comes to other large American cities, which I will not specifically name, but I’m sure you can guess which I mean. Chicago was the first to open its arms to exhibitions of Cubism, Surrealism, and all of their strange yet beautiful friends. Even Pablo Picasso, who never once even stepped foot the United States, dedicated a statue, one of his last I might add, to the city of Chicago. The Art Institute of Chicago is responsible for 350 of Picasso’s pieces. I wouldn’t call myself a Picasso enthusiast, but that’s a rather serious collection to speak of.



Pablo Picasso, Man with a Pipe, 1915.
Oil on canvas, 130.2 x 89.5 cm.
The Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

Anyone interested in catching the next flight to Chicago? We can rendezvous in O’Hare and split a Chicago-style hotdog. Who knows, maybe the Cubs will be spectacular this year. While we wait for that to happen, we can visit The Art Institute of Chicago’s Picasso and Chicago exhibit, on through 12 May 2013. If the flight is too much of a change for you, dig into Picasso by Victoria Charles for a parallel look at his life and artworks.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Thank You Hiram Bingham

The life of Marc Chagall was not an easy one. Nor was it uneventful. It was however, filled with enough drama to delight even the most seasoned and skeptical of Hollywood producers. He perceived the events of World War 1 from afar, saw the hopes and disappointments of the Russian Revolution, barely escaped the onslaught of World War 2, was revered for his artistic prowess, admired by Picasso, and left behind a rich artistic legacy.



The Fiddler, 1912-1913.
Oil on canvas, 184 x 148.5 cm.
The Royal Collection, The Hague.

In effect, Chagall’s life and success was the result of many fortuitous encounters… the first one primarily being the encounter with art at school, which led to his illustrious career path. A meeting later in life would prove to be truly life-changing however. He encountered Hiram Bingham IV when he was living in France, who was able to procure for him an American visa so that he and his family could flee Vichy France, and near-certain deportment to a concentration camp.

So, the art world, and in fact, society in general, has a lot to thank Hiram Bingham IV for. Not only was he responsible for guaranteeing that the life and remaining works of Chagall would be preserved, but he also helped to save the lives of over 2,500 Jewish refugees by ensuring they received visas (against official government policy of the time) to the United States out of Vichy France.

The events of World War 2 were to haunt the artist, as his later paintings show. Themes of war and the crucifixion play across several of his post-war works, giving a voice to those who were silenced. We can go so far as to say that whilst Chagall was the one who directly painted the Paris Opera House ceiling, designed the stained glass windows for the Metz Cathedral, and produced countless stunning artworks, Hiram Bingham IV was the one who made it possible.



The Circus Horse, 1964.
Oil on canvas, 49.4 x 61.8 cm.
Private collection.

So whilst we are grateful to Bingham for the brave and heroic decisions that he made, let us take a moment to think of the millions who did not have such a lucky escape. And upon seeing the works done by Chagall, take a moment to think about the masterpieces of art, concertos, ballets, theatre, etc. which the world will never see. In celebrating Chagall, we remember.

The Musée de Luxembourg, in Paris, will soon be hosting an exhibition dedicated to the works of Marc Chagall, looking especially at the relationship between war and peace within his art. The exhibition, Chagall entre Guerre et Paix will be held between the 21^st February and the 21^st July 2013. Otherwise, be sure to peruse a copy of Sylvie Forrestier’s Chagall.