Landscape Art, Depictions of a Nature That Might Cease to Exist

I’m supposed to talk about pretty landscapes and painters from the 17^th century until now that have slowly incorporated said landscapes into their paintings more and more, until finally Landscape became its own genre. And fine: nature is nice; butterflies, yay. Instead, I’d like to note that BP is sponsoring this. BP! The company that is ruining similar landscapes to the ones we’re meant to enjoy in the exhibition. Did the corporation’s discussion for putting this on the agenda include a “yeah, we better show them now before the destruction and decimation of our planet is complete”?



Meindert Hobbema,
The Avenue at Middleharnis, 1689.
Oil on canvas, 103.5 x 141 cm.
The National Gallery, London.

The extraction and ceaseless use of natural gasses and oil is doing palpable and appalling things to the environment and atmosphere. Nevertheless, as an international society, we choose to ignore the annihilation of our ecosystems and extinction of animals so that we can drive Hummers in already over-crowded cities and wear our sweaters in excessively air-conditioned rooms. We live in deserts but have lush, green lawns. We have large, rarely used but immaculately maintained personal swimming pools. We need BP as much as BP needs us and I think it’s time we become less dependent on one another.



Jules Dupré, Sunset after a Storm, 1851.
Oil on wood, 47 x 56.5 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.

Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s amazing that such a large, well-known corporation is supporting the arts. I live in continual fear that one day I will wake up and society will not be able to provide music/art/drama classes for students and that museums and theatres will close and never open again because the skills will no longer be developed. But does it really have to be BP? Surely this is the most hypocritical exhibition to have ever existed.



J.M.W. Turner, Calais Pier, with French Poissards Preparing for Sea: an English Packet Arriving, 1803.
Oil on canvas, 172 x 240 cm.
The National Gallery, London.

I am argued out. How about you walk or cycle over to the Tate Britain to enjoy breath-taking landscapes in Looking at the View? Rather, sit in your own backyard or a park and read Landscapes by Émile Michel.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Vom „Erbfeind“ zum Freund

Die deutsch-französische Freundschaft ist seit 1963 vertraglich geregelt, und so jährte sich am 22. Januar die Unterzeichnung des Élysée-Vertrages zum 50. Mal. Neben Städtepartnerschaften, dem deutsch-französischen Jugendwerk und anderem mehr sind es doch die jeweiligen Staatsoberhäupter, Präsident und Kanzler(in), die diese Freundschaft immer wieder zu einem Ereignis machen. Die im Vertrag vorgesehenen Konsultationen des jeweiligen „deutsch-französischen Paares“ gehen meist nur wenig später mit Bilddokumenten durch die Medien. Und so können wir sowohl über zahlreiche Karikaturen als auch über Foto- und Videoaufnahmen oft genug schmunzelnd politische Geschichte erleben.



Jacques-Louis David, Die Salbung Napoléons und Krönung Joséphines am 2. Dezember 1804 in der Kathedrale Notre Dame, 1806-1807.
Öl auf Leinwand, 612 x 979 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.

Die Verdienste von Charles de Gaule und Konrad Adenauer sind unumstritten, der recht kühle Umgang zwischen Georges Pompidou und Willy Brandt ist Geschichte. Valéry Giscard d’Estaing legte zusammen mit Helmut Schmidt den Grundstein für den Europäischen Rat, die Weltwirtschaftsgipfel sowie das mittlerweile heftig umstrittene Europäische Währungssystem.

Die wohl symbolträchtigste Versöhnung unserer beiden Länder vollzogen François Mitterand und Helmut Kohl, als sie sich während der Gedenkfeier für die gefallenen Soldaten der Weltkriege am Schlachtfeld von Verdun die Hand reichten. Bewegend und zugleich grotesk.

Wirklich freundschaftlich war es dann zwischen Jacques Chirac und Gerhard Schröder, der sich bei einer Sitzung für den Europäischen Rat sogar von seinem französischen Kollegen vertreten ließ.

Merkozy, die Wortneuschöpfung der Presse aus dem Jahr 2011, beschreibt neben all den Bilddokumenten wohl am deutlichsten das politische Verhältnis von Angela Merkel und Nicolas Sarkozy, die sich in der gemeinsamen Zeit vor allem mit Wirtschafts- und der Staatsschuldenkrise beschäftigen mussten. Was die Beziehung zu François Hollande bringen wird, wird sich in den nächsten Jahren zeigen.



Charles Joseph Natoire, Europa auf dem Stier, 1731.
Öl auf Leinwand, 262 x 294 cm.
Eremitage, St. Petersburg.

Wenn Sie sich nicht nur für die politische Geschichte, sondern auch für französische Zeichnungen und Aquarelle begeistern können, so haben Sie ab dem 27. Januar 2013 in der Ausstellung Color, Line, Light: French Drawings, Watercolors, and Pastels from Delacroix to Signac in der Natinal Galery of Art in Washington, D.C., die Gelegenheit, die Kunst unseres Freundes Frankreich zu entdecken. Alternativ finden Sie mit dem Titel Französische Malerei von Victoria Charles aus dem Verlag Parkstone International einen idealen Begleiter durch die französische Kunstgeschichte.

Beaux-Arts, fromage, guillotines, and other French concepts

I started learning French about ten months ago. It was an idea that I toyed with for the ridiculously large span of one to thirteen years prior (when it was offered in middle school and my dearest mother thought Spanish would prove more useful in my future and made me study it instead – I will neither agree or disagree with that point all of these years later). Initially this venture, ten months ago, started out of spite – I was surrounded by French speakers and could never get a word in edgewise because I never knew what the hell they were talking about. I planned to learn it the best I could, without telling them of course, and then shock everyone when I was well-versed enough to call them out on their merde.


I relate to this look all too well.
Balthus (Balthazar Klossowski), Thérèse, 1938.
Oil on cardboard mounted on wood, 100.3 x 81.3 cm.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

Needless to say that never happened as one cannot learn a language in ten months without actually eating, sleeping, and breathing it (I have a life, after all). I do listen harder and repeat phrases in my head. I bother French speakers with inane grammatical and pronunciation questions. Sometimes immature young men will teach me a phrase or two and send me off to repeat it to another immature guy and they’ll all have a giggle at my expense, leaving me supremely embarrassed, but equally proud of my ability to mimic.


My namesake was French!
Claude Gellee (Le Lorrain), Coast View with Apollo and the Cumaean Sibyl, 1645-1649.
Oil on canvas, 99.5 x 127 сm.
Collection of Sir Robert Walpole, The State Heritage Museum, St Petersburg.

For the longest time I never had a single nice thing to say about anything French – except maybe Amélie, but that doesn’t really count considering its international notoriety. I don’t care for frog’s legs, snail, or duck confit; I don’t really enjoy Impressionism, mostly because endlessly repeated titles make fact-checking a nightmare; call me Guy de Maupassant when it comes to the Eiffel Tower (fun fact: Maupassant ate at the Tower’s base daily because he hated it so and that was the only place in the city that he was unable to see it); do not get me started on roquefort, maroilles, or epoisses (ugh, ick, bleh).

 


Hippolyte Flandrin, Young Man Sitting by the Sea, figure study, 1836.
Oil on canvas, 98 x 124 cm.
Musée du Louvre, Paris.

Thankfully now, I could probably rustle up a few nice things to say – the politeness of gentlemen, Realist and Romantic paintings, the frankness of women, the invention of the guillotine, etc. I am most especially in awe of the vast collection of art housed in France and could probably spend one week in the Musée du Louvre and neither see enough or tire of it.

Since most of us don’t have the time, money, language skills, or (if you’re like me) patience to endure France, visit the National Gallery of Art, Washington to see Color, Line, Light: French Drawings, Watercolors, and Pastels from Delacroix to Signac from 27 January to 26 May. It promises a beautiful array of French art. Don’t want to travel too far from home? Check out French Painting by Victoria Charles for all of the artistic glamour without the offensive cheeses.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Can (and should) life truly imitate Art?

At first glance I thought this exhibition was about something else entirely – bodies covered in tattoos (to which I am entirely approving). But now that I am well informed, I’ve got some things to say. Are photographs art? Sure, sometimes, certainly not all the time, just have a look at my memory card. But are they Art, capital A, meant to be scrutinised, reviewed, and studied for centuries to come? I’m not so sure.


(I’d rather see the Maja nude than, say, Kim Kardashian)
Francisco de Goya y Lucientes, The Nude Maja, 1797-1800.
Oil on canvas, 98 x 191 cm.
Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid.

Painting is an expression of one’s mind, heart, and imagination. The colours we interpret, the way things make us feel, whatever happens to be going through our heads at a particular moment in time. Paintings are created by hand and, arguably, soul. Photographs, on the other hand, are, while surely manipulated by a human force, created by machine. And so, does this pave a path for us to compare Delacroix’s images of rape and murder in Death of Sardanapalus to a photograph of a seemingly “broken” woman strewn across a bed (Tom Hunter’s Death of Coltelli)? I would say not.


(Even I would model for Degas!)
Edgar Degas, Woman with a Towel, 1894 or 1898.
Pastel on cream-coloured wove paper with red and blue fibres throughout, 95.9 x 76.2 cm.
H.O. Havemeyer Collection, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

A painting allows for the deepest expression of whatever feeling the artist wishes to convey. He can make a woman look desperate and torn apart, he can make a man look smug and in control (both references to Sardanapalus); he can make a troublesome child appear angelic and shade the curves of a woman just so to make her appear sensual rather than vulgar. A photographer can only hope to have such a good model to portray the image inside his mind, and even then, we know they’re just pretending – because, in all honesty, what cruel being would take a photo of someone that has been raped, murdered, or committed suicide and call it Art?


(If you are going to photograph a nude, I’d prefer classy, not – uncomfortable.)
Julian Mandel, Early postcard of Kiki de Montparnasse, c. 1925.
14 x 9 cm.

I simply do not believe that a photograph, while worth 1000 words, has the chops to stand next to the great Masterpieces. Visit The National Gallery, London now through 20 Jan to see Seduced by Art. Let us know if you believe the Old Master’s can possibly be compared, side by side, to photographic imitations. Whether you have a penchant for photographs or painted landscapes, you’re covered: Erotic Photography by Klaus H. Carl, Still Life by Victoria Charles, Nudes by Jp. A. Calosse, Landscapes by Émile Michel.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Bonjour Tristesse ?

En regardant les trois tableaux ci-dessous, le lien qui les unit est difficile à envisager au premier coup d’œil. En matière de peinture de paysage, Van Gogh et Böcklin pourraient-ils être plus éloignés l’un de l’autre ? Des courbes douces à la rigueur stérile… Que s’est-il passé entre temps ?

 


Vincent van Gogh, La Nuit étoilée, 1889.
Huile sur toile, 73,7 x 92,1 cm.
Museum of Modern Art, New York.

 

Le symbolisme est passé par là. Mouvement de l’imagination, de la poésie, de l’émotion. Mais je dirais aussi de l’isolement, des couleurs tristes et un peu morbides. Qui, étant d’humeur normale, voudrait se promener dans les paysages d’Odilon Redon ou d’Arnold Böcklin, paysages ternes dans lesquels les personnages ont toujours l’air mélancoliques. Il est difficile de s’identifier au travail des peintres symbolistes.

Les symbolistes jouent sur la représentation du monde réel, le déformant pour créer un univers fantastique, dans lequel nous perdons nos repères. Ils privilégient l’idée à la forme et c’est en ce sens qu’ils ont favorisé l’arrivée de l’abstraction. Et heureusement !

 


Odilon Redon, La Barque mystique, vers 1890-1895.
Pastel sur papier, 51 x 63,5 cm.
The Woodner Collection, New York.

 

Mysticisme, religion, philosophie… Ce sont sans doute des éléments qui peuvent faire du symbolisme un courant apprécié en ces temps de crise. Selon moi, le symbolisme a sans doute été bénéfique à l’évolution des formes, mais il ne se démarque pas par son dynamisme et sa luminosité. Cependant, derrière de simples paysages, toujours mélancoliques ou fantastiques, se cachent en fait des références littéraires ou musicales. Le symbolisme, serait-il donc alors l’une des premières expressions artistiques plurielles, mêlant plusieurs références artistiques en une seule œuvre ?

 


Arnold Böcklin, L'Île des morts, 1880.
Huile sur toile, 111 x 155 cm.
Öffentliche Kunstammlung Basel, Kunstmuseum, Bâle.

 

Pour mieux cerner les relations entre impressionnisme, naturalisme, symbolisme et abstraction (que de -isme !), vous pouvez visiter l’exposition de la National Gallery of Scotland, et consulter cette monographie de Van Gogh, ainsi que cet ouvrage sur le Symbolisme de Nathalia Brodskaya.

 

 

 

De los fiordos a Mallorca: un viaje por el mundo interior de los simbolistas europeos

Un cielo es un cielo. Nadie lo pone en duda. Ahora bien, ¿qué es un cielo teñido de rojos, violetas y anaranjados? Puede ser el firmamento de aquella tarde junto al mar que ponía fin a un inolvidable verano; el del alba, para el guarda que termina el turno de noche y vuelve a casa; el que proyecta una nueva erupción del Vesubio que traerá consigo el fin del mundo; las reminiscencias de un fuego lejano que consume esperanzas y vidas... ¿Y si es de color verde?, ¿y si lo moldeamos con los dedos?, ¿y si parece derretirse y fundirse con el mar?, ¿y si es pardusco y atemporal?, ¿y si está desenfocado?, ¿y si está surcado de espirales y remolinos, como el de Noche estrellada de Vincent van Gogh? Por mucho que un cielo no sea más que un cielo, puede inspirar en nosotros las más profundas emociones y hacernos reflexionar sobre temas universales como el ambiente opresivo de la ciudad, la muerte o el destino.


Vincent van Gogh, Noche estrellada, 1889.
Óleo sobre lienzo, 73,7 x 92,1 cm.
Museum of Modern Art, Nueva York.

Esto bien lo sabían los pintores europeos cuyas obras acoge una de las más recientes exposiciones de la National Gallery of Scotland. Se trata de pintores que califica de simbolistas, herederos de los preceptos del impresionismo, que sometieron la realidad a su voluntad. El poeta Mallarmé instó a los simbolistas a que no se limitaran a pintar lo que veían sino los efectos que aquellos objetos producían en ellos.

La corriente artística del simbolismo surgió a finales del siglo XIX, entre los años 1880 y 1910, en una época en la que los avances científicos ponían en tela de juicio la supremacía del hombre sobre el mundo natural y en la que el progreso tecnológico empezaba a crear un sentimiento de preocupación por las consecuencias del materialismo. En ese contexto, los simbolistas retomaron el idealismo romántico de William Blake, Caspar David Friedrich y J. M. W. Turner y lo aplicaron a las realidades tangibles y efímeras retratadas por los impresionistas. Su objetivo era expresar su individualismo, su mundo interior, y traducir realidades universales a un lenguaje de tristeza, amor, angustia, anhelo...; en otras palabras, pintaban «paisajes del alma» que hablaban del hombre, de la sociedad, del infinito.

La muestra incluye a algunos de los principales artistas vanguardistas, como van Gogh, Gauguin, Munch, y Mondrian, y a un considerable número de pintores no tan conocidos. En el fondo, el concepto de simbolismo resulta tan vago que es difícil determinar quiénes entran claramente en el saco y quiénes deberían quedarse fuera.

 

Sea como fuere, la exposición es un verdadero desfile de paisajes radicales y extremadamente evocativos, que permiten recorrer Europa a golpe de sentimientos. Estará abierta hasta el 14 de octubre, así que aún tienes algo de tiempo para estudiar la obra de van Gogh en casa y decidir si sus cielos son lo bastante sugerentes para ti.

Paint the Sky with Van Gogh

On the over-arching subject of Symbolism, I’d have to say I am a fan. Beautiful colours and images which ultimately stand for something much deeper and more heartfelt than what is in front of you; colours and symbols which are meant to touch people around the world and bring them together using one piece of art. When it happens successfully, it’s truly amazing.

Take Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night (below), a piece recognised across time and place that enlists a quieting of the mind and moment of inner peace, which ultimately stirs in some of us a recognition of the fact that there may be more than just this life. However, some, namely Boy Meets World’s Cory Matthews, view this painting as an attack, a war over a small town. What do you see? More, how does it make you feel?


Vincent van Gogh, The Starry Night, 1889.
Oil on canvas, 73.7 x 92.1 cm.
Museum of Modern Art, New York.

Many Symbolists found modern cities over-bearing and claustrophobic, taking solace in open and expansive bodies of land, water, and sky. Who could blame them, what is more likely to make you smile from the inside out? Massive buildings, smog, and honking horns? Or tall, green trees swaying in the breeze, running barefoot in uncut grasses, and the sun on your face?

Feeling stuck in a season or landscape? Get yourself over to the National Gallery of Scotland before 14 October 2012 and check out all of the Symbolist landscape artists including Van Gogh. Also bring this ebook along to compare with the passing scenery on the way: Vincent van Gogh.

-Le Lorrain Andrews

Titien et la gloire de la culture anglaise ?

La National Gallery de Londres présente en ce moment une exposition reliant la série des Métamorphoses de Titien, peintes pour Philippe II d’Espagne, à l’art contemporain anglais.

En cette période de jeux olympiques en Angleterre, le but est bien sûr de glorifier la création culturelle anglaise. Des peintres contemporains, danseurs et poètes anglais ont la chance d’être présents dans la National Gallery.

Mais pourquoi Titien ? Quel est le lien entre son travail, en Italie, au xvi^e siècle, et la création actuelle anglo-saxonne ?

Je dirais spontanément : aucun. Pourquoi ne pas aller jusqu’au bout de leur démarche et avoir choisi un artiste anglais comme Hogarth ou Turner ?

Le thème des Métamorphoses n’a pas non plus de rapport évident avec les jeux olympiques, choisir les Douze Travaux d’Hercule aurait été plus judicieux.

Toujours est-il que cette exposition est l’occasion d’admirer trois grandes toiles d’un des maîtres les plus importants de la Renaissance italienne, réunies pour la première fois dans le même musée. Afin d’en savoir davantage sur Titien et de pouvoir pleinement apprécier son travail, vous pouvez consulter Titien, un livre complet sur cet artiste.


Titien (Tiziano Vecellio), Diane et Actéon, 1556-1559.
Huile sur toile, 184,5 x 202,2 cm.
The National Gallery, Londres.


Titien (Tiziano Vecellio), La Mort d’Actéon, vers 1565-1576.
Huile sur toile, 178,4 x 198,1 cm.
The National Gallery, Londres.

Titian: not overthrown by the Olympians

The National Gallery is exhibiting three of Titians most famous paintings from his Metamorphosis series, as well as reactions to it by contemporary artists, poets and choreographers, as part of the Cultural Olympiad, a “summer”-long festival in the UK celebrating Britain’s cultural landscape. Nowhere does it say that the events, acts, performances and exhibitions of this Cultural Olympiad are for British self-promotion, but with a bouncy castle Stonehenge and 37 Shakespeare plays performed in 37 languages, not to mention the patriotic opening ceremony, you have to assume that promoting Britain and her diverse cultural landscape is indeed the aim of the Games.

I was surprised, then, to see that Titian was chosen to feature in this cultural festival, given his tenuous, if at all visible, link to British art history or the Olympics themselves. I would even be willing to eat my own words and suggest that even Turner would have been a better candidate. Yes, Titian was an inspirational and iconic painter, whose legacy lives on nearly half a millennia after his death and whose use of colour changed the course of art forever, but he’s still an Italian Renaissance painter who has been dead for 435 years.


Titian (Tiziano Vecellio), Diana and Actaeon, 1556-1559.
Oil on canvas, 184.5 x 202.2 cm.
The National Gallery, London.


Titian (Tiziano Vecellio), The Death of Actaeon, c. 1565-1576.
Oil on canvas, 178.4 x 198.1 cm.
The National Gallery, London.

Whatever the justification for its being featured, Titian’s Metamorphosis series hangs alongside pieces it has inspired from contemporary artists, in order to show Britain’s multi-layered cultural presence in the world and its ability to draw inspiration from many sources past and present to create something wonderful and novel. But I fear that the aim of this exhibition may well backfire, as these contemporary artists will constantly be compared to some of the most famous paintings by one of the most revered artists of all time.

I can’t help but feel that instead of celebrating British high-culture and interest in the arts, this exhibition has wound up paying homage to a great master, whose involvement in the cultural landscape of Britain has been less notable than others. Wrong time, wrong place, National Gallery – could it be that they are trying to get their money’s worth out of their £95 million investment?

You can see these three Titian paintings (Diana and Actaeon, The Death of Actaeon and Diana and Callisto) together for the first time since the 18^th century at the National Gallery, London. The exhibition Metamorphosis: Titian 2012 will be around until 23 September 2012, or you can get this Titian book featuring many more of his masterpieces.