Friday, April 26, 2019

London Pride

"London Pride" means a few different things to the British. First of all, it's a flower, saxifraga x urbium, a perennial flowering plant, found in gardens throughout the land.  During the WWII London Blitz of 1940, as the flower rapidly colonized the bombed-out sites, it became a symbol of the resilience of London and ordinary Londoners in the face of the relentless onslaught. After that, and as testament, Noël Coward wrote a song called "London Pride" that became hugely popular.

On our recent visit to London, we wondered how much of the symbolic London Pride we might find amidst all the ongoing  chaos of "Br-x-t" (people will barely say the word out loud!). One thing was clear: the weather was just lovely, mild, sunny, and the ceanothus outside the house where we stayed was at its stunning peak!



Some things were very much unchanged from our last visit. The Burlington Arcade still holds fascination for Matthew with all its fancy (and expensive!) watch shops...






...the elegantly dressed bear still stands outside Atkinson's Gentlemen's clothing store...



...and the shoe-shine man still has his place in the middle of the Arcade, and still has customers waiting for their turn.


At the far end of the Burlington Arcade, along Piccadilly, is the entrance to the venerable Royal Academy of the Arts, with the imposing statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds, its first president. Run by artists since 1768, they're celebrating 250 years of bringing world-class exhibitions, free displays of art and architecture, the annual Young Artists Summer Show, and much more. Definitely something to take pride in!

We were there to see their current featured show, "The Renaissance Nude", which explores the pivotal elevation of the nude in art, from 1400 to the 1530s. An important inclusion in the exhibit was this 1533 oil painting of Saint Sebastian by the Italian painter, Agnolo Bronzino. Earlier depictions of him usually show him being brutally martyred during the persecution of Christians by the Romans in 288 AD -- shot with arrows, beaten, thrown in a sewer.  By contrast, Bronzino's painting blurs the boundary between the secular and the sacred, showing Sebastian casually seated, no longer tied to a tree, more like a portrait (albeit with one arrow piercing his midriff!).


There were, however, a number of examples of extreme brutality being rendered, such as this painting, The Martyrdom of the Ten Thousand, from the workshop of the Swiss artist, Hans Leu the Elder in 1508. In portraying partially nude bodies undergoing torture and sacrifice, artists sought to make Christian subjects more realistic and so more accessible, a testament, if you will, to their unwavering Christian faith. This particular work is based on the legend of Emperor Hadrian ordering Roman solders who had converted to Christianity, to be tortured until they renounced their new religion.

At the beginning of the 16th century, a growing interest in the Classical worlds of Greek and Roman mythology inspired artists to use this context to explore the nude. I loved this painting by Piero di Cosimo A Satyr Mourning over a Nymph painted around 1500. It's very quiet, but moving, both the Satyr and the dog seemingly bereft at the nymph's song being silenced by the wound piercing her throat.

Titian's beautiful rendition of Venus Rising from the Sea, goes back to Pliny the Elder, who described a painting of the same subject by the Greek artist Apelles.  It became popular in the Renaissance, and although Titian is more known for portraying nudes in pastoral setting, he also turned to the subject in 1520, and produced this stunning work.





Another work that caught my eye and imagination was Jacometto Veneziano's 1497 work, titled on one side Portrait of a Man, and featuring a serious and quite prosperous looking gentleman...





...whilst on the other side, Lovers in an Interior,  is an unabashed celebration of sensuality. I did wonder how the merchant from Northern Europe, who commissioned the work, chose to display the two very different sides of human nature in his home!



The only place to go after enjoying such beautiful art, was to step across Piccadilly and into the sumptuous world of Fortnum and Mason's, purveyor of exotic and basic provisions, established in 1701 by a former footman of Queen Anne, William Fortnum!




Here, a "nice cup of tea" (F&M's Darjeeling blend) and a serving of scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam, were the perfect pick-me-up before we faced the challenge of getting back to our home base in North London.



I say "challenge" because our visit coincided with the arrival of the Climate Change Protest group,  "Extinction Rebellion", that shut down large swathes of Central London. This bright pink boat took over Oxford Circus, where Oxford Street meets Regent Street.  Marble Arch and Waterloo Bridge were similarly commandeered by groups of protesters, some of whom chained and/or glued themselves to various vehicles. Tents were set up, pop-up kitchens, blankets stretched out on pavement, music, speeches, singing. It was all very festive, but highly disruptive in spite of the importance and urgency of the message.





And just in case you might think they were only concerned with human beings, a list of other threatened species reminded us that we are all part of one big world, connected and dependent each upon the other!



Side-bar "discussion sessions" on Regent Street provided chairs and speakers, who went to great lengths to explain their movement. What struck us as so quintessentially "English" was that they were all unfailingly polite and solicitous...and often very apologetic at the chaos they were causing. I guess that's something to be proud of. No one was yelling, no windows were smashed!



Undeterred by the challenges of transport, we set out on Good Friday for Trafalgar Square and a visit to the National Gallery, which has been anchoring this iconic space since 1824.  Here, it houses some of the world's most famous works of art. Our jaws were sagging as we wandered through huge galleries filled with legendary paintings by Constable, Reynolds, Turner, just to name three very English artists.



We were there, though, to see paintings by this gentleman, Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida (1863-1923), a Spanish impressionist painter, about whom we knew absolutely nothing, but who, in his lifetime, was a hugely successful painter of portraits, landscapes and works that presented social and historical themes.



Born in Valencia, Sorolla showed a talent for drawing from an early age. Orphaned at the age of two, he and his sister were raised by an Aunt and Uncle. Sorolla studied master paintings at the Prado Museum, then won a grant to spend four years studying painting in Rome and Paris.
















































 

Monday, April 8, 2019

Better Red than....?



A massive exhibition recently opened at the Grand Palais. Entitled "ROUGE: Art et Utopie au Pays des Soviets", it follows the world of art, and the artists who made it, between the October 1917 Russian Revolution up until the death of Stalin in 1953. It took us several hours to try and take it all in (and in the end, we really couldn't!), but here's a brief look at some of the works that laid bare the triumphs, challenges, trials, and betrayals that swept through Russia during those turbulent times.

Amidst the chaos following the Revolution, the Bolsheviks quickly focused on garnering support from the population, "mobilizing the masses". With the literacy rate in the country only hovering around 33%, their message had to be simple and clear. A series of window posters appeared in towns and villages carrying forward the messages of the Revolution. Agitation and Propaganda--agitprop--flourished everywhere. Vladimir Lebedev's poster shows Russian workers stomping on robber barons, fat cats and bankers, as they march forward. No words needed!

Meanwhile, Vladimir Mayakovsky urged his fellow artists to turn the streets into a "feast of art for all", with direct messages supporting the Communist Party. In this window poster, the images speak of hope, the few words calling encouragement down to those below, exhorting them to reject the bourgeoisie, to hail only communism, and to grab and climb up the ladder to happiness.

 In 1921, the artist Alexandre Rodchenko exhibited "Pur Rouge" a monochrome work in vibrant red. Art critics called it the "last painting". Easel painting was on its way out. Several constructivist artists publicly renounced painting, moving on to what they called "art of production".

The theatre became a laboratory of the new life, where constructivist artists created play devices, theatre sets, prototypes of practical objects. The artist, El Lissitzky, who believed his entire life that the artist could be the agent of change, designed this theatre model for a play called "Je veux un enfant" ("I want a baby"!).

Lissitzky also designed costumes for the play, which told the story of a young agronomist who wants a baby and chooses the father based on scientific calculations. She decides not to found a family, entrusting the child's education instead to the communist community, believing "a healthy child is a future builder of socialism". The mixture of moral license, eugenics, and social issues proved to be too controversial, and in the end, the play was censored!

At the same time, some traditional artists were finding a way to support the Revolution using the virtues of realism to "record the greatest moment of history in an artistic and documentary manner." Victor Perleman shows a working correspondent at his desk, with the backdrop of an earlier Pravda headline announcing the death of Lenin.


And Kouzma Petrov-Vodkine, portrayed a group of workers in all their might and muscle: proud followers of the Revolution!



The technique of photo montage became another tool to promote messages of propaganda. One of the earliest artists to use this style was Gustav Klucis. This poster includes the slogan: "Proletariats of the world: Unite"!

Concentration of power fell into Stalin's hands by the end of the 1920s, and led to the end of cultural pluralism. Artistic groups were dissolved and gave way to professional unions. Enforced collectivism of the countryside was initiated. Called the "Great Break", it was presented as a cultural revolution aimed at eradicating "class enemies". The Gulag had arrived, and artists were not spared. Among those who fell victim were Klucis and Meyerhold, both of whom were arrested and executed. Mayakovsky's relationship with the state was always complex, confrontational. In 1930, he committed suicide. The artist who painted this picture of Stalin in a rattan chair, Georgi Rublev, worried about his safety, and hid the painting from sight. It was not discovered until after his death in 1975!

Under this new era, a culture of vigor arose. "A healthy mind in a healthy body" was taken up as a mantra. Athletics, fitness, an obsessive quest for mastery became the rage, but the fear of external aggression led to "health and vigor" being molded quickly into images of military might. Alexandre Samokhvalov's huge painting "Komosmol militarisé" illustrates this perfectly -- in the background, young people are doing gymnastics, diving into an unseen river, whilst in the foreground all we see are youth in uniforms with guns.


Social Realism in architecture became an officially adopted program as Stalin went on a huge building spree, reconstructing Moscow and other major cities. Ivan Leonidov, who came from a peasant background, made this design for the new People's Commissariat in Moscow in 1934.



And then there was the famous Moscow Metro, part of the general Moscow reconstruction plan. Leading Russian architects were mobilized to realize this "place for the masses."  Leonid Teplitsky reached back to Russian Classicism in his design for the entrance to one of Moscow's famed metro stations, Place de l'Arbat...



...whilst Gustav Klucis offered a more subdued modernism, although all in marble and highly decorated -- a far cry from the L train in Brooklyn!

By 1933,  the writer, Maxim Gorky was calling on artists to produce "joyous, contagious paintings, with more smiles". They should reflect optimism and a radiant future to highlight the bright future of communism. Artists responded with monumental, idealized images illustrating the enthusiasm and exemplary traits of the population. Alexandre Deïneka certainly captures that in this big painting "Pleine liberté"...

...whilst Vassily Svarog documents a visit by Stalin and members of the Politburo with young children at Gorky Park in this 1939 painting, that was exhibited at the New York World Fair. In Russia, the painting was positively received as another symbol of the powerful link between the proletariat and those who led them. Hard to believe that at the same time, suppression and the "Great Terror" were affecting so many in all segments of society.

By the late 1930s, formal innovation had been curbed, and artists who pursued formalism and "uninspired naturalism" were condemned. Any depictions of the country's leaders had to show them in an almost mythical format -- Stalin usually appears in military dress, his gestures are limited, his short stature and atrophied left arm are hidden. Aleksandr Gerasimov manages this perfectly in this painting of Stalin at the funeral of the ideologue, Andrei Zhdanov.

Another requirement was that Stalin should be surrounded by his most faithful "seconds". Here, the artist, Anatoli Yar-Kravchenko, shows Maxim Gorky reading from his book "A Girl and Death". Gorky's son stands behind him. Also present are Vyacheslav Molotov who was Stalin's Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Kliment Voroshilov, his Minister of Defence. Stalin famously proclaimed of the book: "This thing is more powerful than Goethe's Faust!". At 53-1/2" high x 58-1/2" wide, the painting met all the "monumental and mythical" requirements of the era. Many of these works were reproduced in millions of copies as postcards and posters.

Some three hours after we entered the exhibition, we reached the end! This final lithograph, by V.I. Gorvokov, is titled "At the Kremlin, Stalin Worries About Each of Us". Well, I'm not so sure that some of the artists who began their revolutionary journey with such zeal, brought such talent and innovative ideas to the movement, but who fell afoul of the ever-increasing totalitarianism of the communist regime (and lost their lives as a result), would agree with that. For us, it was hard not to be swept up and quite moved by the dreams of utopia that they all began with. These images and many others from the show will stay with us for a long time. And I didn't even mention all the film footage the exhibit included, making it all the more real and alive.

And just to cap off this deep Russian immersion, we went out to the Philharmonie last week to hear the Russian National Orchestra perform works by Mussorgsky, Rachmaninov, and Shostakovich.

In spite of its name, the orchestra is privately funded, led by conductor Alain Altinoglu, and on the night we were there, the concertmaster was this young woman, Lina Vartanova. Women made up half the orchestra!

And the soloist for the Rachmaninov Piano Concerto was the original founder of the orchestra, Mikhail Pletnev, whose rather droopy demeanor made us think of a Walter Matthau character playing piano in some seedy bar -- all he needed was a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was, however, an extraordinary pianist, who electrified the audience and received a very well-deserved standing ovation!

As do you, dear readers, for reaching the end of this post!

À bientôt!