Three cheers for bewilderment! Prior to the 20th century art used a limited repertoire of forms, subjects and symbols. Since about 1950, however, art has taken to a wide array of ideas and materials. These days “anything goes”, literally. By all means ponder on one’s reaction (or non-reaction) to a work but embrace the feeling that “you have no fucking idea what it means … wisdom is born of wonder”.
A London show of Titian’s late works has prompted a closer look at his celebrated Bacchus and Ariadne. Right in the middle of the painting is a caper flower, traditionally a remedy for flatulence. The plant points to Bacchus’s rear end, hinting at a second reason for his odd mid-air pose. Ariadne inelegantly grabs her posterior. Intended for display in a private room, the work is a “trope of whiffiness … a rude and rawdy whoopee-cushion for the eyes.”
A “milestone” show of Soviet art from the “stagnation” era of 1968 – 85. Communism was discredited, leading to nostalgia for the “pre-Revolutionary past”. Official work now seems unexpectedly “diverse”, only a part being “neurotic, kitschy”. Unofficial “anti-Soviet” art was even more diverse, some focusing on the double lives of so many. Religious mysticism was another theme. Overall, a “somewhat overwhelming, art experience” (like the review itself).
So, here’s the issue – Millet mattered 100 years ago but does he matter now? His strongest works depicted peasants sympathetically, reminding city folk of the nobility of rural life. His influence was broad – Degas, Pisarro and van Gogh. Then, the rupture of modernism. Suddenly Millet looked dated, “part of the furniture of civic life … an artist whose great work sits passively on the sidelines, inspiring nothing beyond nostalgia.”
Malangatana was raised in rural Mozambique where witchcraft was part of daily life. That influence shone in his work, “allegorical, a dense assembly of phantasmagoric depictions of animals, humans” One might hesitate about claims that he helped define an “Africanist aesthetic” but Malangatana was undoubtedly a pioneer for contemporary African art. A review of his Chicago show is here.
What would a civilization look like where “imperious” females ruled over subservient male drones? Ojih Odutola’s “magnificent” cycle of charcoal drawings, currently showing in London, provides an answer. Her women have the “muscular, dynamic allure of Greek warriors” and strike confident poses, while the males are featureless. Real life analogies abound, particularly the “mutual melancholy that pervades asymmetric relationships of power.” Images are here.
Ignore the emotive headline. The glorious architecture of Europe’s gothic cathedrals drew heavily on Islamic designs, brought back by those returning from the Crusades. Notre Dame is just one example – its twin towers, ribbed vaults and pointed arches “come directly from Syria’s Qalb Lozeh fifth-century church.” Most cathedral glass in France and England used Syrian know-how. It was one-way traffic – “very little went the other way”.
Although she made her name in painting, Eisenman’s work has shifted significantly toward sculpture. Like her paintings, her sculptures are mostly figurative – “apocalyptic misfits”, some in abject poses, more that are lumbering forward toward who knows where. Their size and worked surfaces emphasise physicality, expressing Eisenman’s view that painting’s impact is “from the neck up and sculpture … from the neck down.”
Cao’s first solo show in a British public museum highlights the diversity of her output. Partly it reflects her curiosity, partly it comes from how rapidly the world is changing. Digitization has transformed jobs and fueled urbanization. People wonder what reality is, and where they belong. Says Cao “villages have transferred into skyscrapers. [We are in] an era full of crises. Panic and chaos may become our new normal”.
King George IV gets awful press – “a bad husband, a bad father, a bad subject, a bad monarch”. Limited redemption comes from his “great, discerning” patronage of the arts. Whether in painting (Gainsborough, Stubbs), architecture (Soane), music or literature (Jane Austen), he facilitated “an astonishingly fecund moment in English cultural history … the last English monarch to leave London more handsome than he found it”.
A topic that refuses to go away. The British Museum holds 900 (!) of the acclaimed bronze sculptures from Benin (now Nigeria). New scholarship casts further doubt on whether they were purchased legally. ‘Legal purchase’ has been the usual defense for holding onto colonial acquisitions. A fallback idea is the “world” museum, one place where everything is together, a concept characterised as “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine.”
Samson resists expectations to focus his art on race and poverty. Wary of being “marginalized under the politics”, he wants his portraits to tell stories about “the beautiful black man” in his Cape Town community. He portrays local people in slightly surreal images, equal parts mystical and celebratory. No doubt encouraged by his skyrocketing profile, Samson declares “There’s no better time to be a black person in our history.”
Current gallery shows in London are “the scapings from the back of the oven”. In contrast, online displays have leapt ahead. As ever, some are better than others. Among the national museums, New York’s Met is tops, London’s National Portrait Gallery “disastrous”. Some commercial galleries have surprised with “genuinely interesting” online offerings that are a “valuable resource”. The writer’s podcast on the topic is here.
A pretty essay on the phonecall as a neglected subject of performance art. Notwithstanding video calls and mobiles, the humble landline phone still feels “so vital”. But why? Is it the paradox of feeling so near to a distant person? The possibility that the voice at the other end is not who they say they are? Or simply “a nostalgic evocation of the fumbling, desire-filled chats I used to have on brick phones”.