In the waning days of her Kanzlerschaft, and plagued still by the crises that have defined it, Angela Merkel must surely crave for some moments of respite. One of them may well have been her opening last week, alongside the Prime Minister of the Netherlands, Mark Rutte, of the Johannes Vermeer. On Reflectionexhibition at the Dresden Gemäldegalerie.
The exhibition has as its centerpiece the familiar Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window, with an unfamiliar new look. After years of restoration, during which it was proven that the ‘picture within a picture’ on the rear wall (uncovered by x-ray imaging forty odd years ago) had been painted over by another hand than that of Vermeer, the Cupid has now been revealed and the painting restored to its original condition.
Before restoration
Restored to reveal Cupid on wall
Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window, Johannes Vermeer, circa. 1657-59, Staatlichen Kunstsammlungen Dresden (SKD)
For a chronology of the painting’s not uneventful life, and the technical aspects of the restoration, refer to the SKD website (details are also in English). And, the NYT had a very informative article during the week.
In the digital magazine, Aeon (very accessible and very much to be recommended) “Great Art Explained” series: the famous Hokusai work, The Great Wave off Kanagawa (circa. 1830) in a short video (also on YouTube and embedded below) explained.
And, exceedingly well explained in my opinion; especially informative is the greater look at the rigid class hierarchy of the Edo period from which ukiyo-e (simplistically put: the traditional Japanese wood block prints of the time) sprung, and evolved – from its folkloric, hedonistic beginnings to a broader range of subjects that, with Hokusai, would find inspiration in the landscape. Mount Fuji would replace the Kabuki actor as the star of the popular print.
The video, then, is not just about one work, nor one artist, but offers a glimpse at an art form rooted in the traditions – cultural and technical – of Japan but, with a nation’s opening up to the world after two centuries of self-imposed isolationism, that was to be influenced from without (for instance; away from the human form as prime subject, Prussian blue ink, perspective techniques), and then, in turn, to make its own mark on movements elsewhere, especially on the impressionist and post-impressionist movements in 19th century western Europe. (This Wikipedia article on ‘Japonisme’ is informative in this respect.) Not dissimilar to the to and fro of waves – both great and small – falling upon shores – near and far- in a continual rhythmic exchange; dislocating silt and sand from one place and depositing it in the next.
This latter observation reminded me of a – to then be sought out again – stunning interactive piece last year from Jason Farago, and still on the NYT website (for those with access). Linked to here and headed A Picture of Change for a World in Constant Motion, Farago investigates another Katsushika Hokusai print, “Ejiri in Suruga Province” from his renowned cycle “Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji.”. Without the iconic appeal of “The Great Wave”, Farago does however excavate from this work an awful lot of stuff that feels contemporaneous, and connects our fast and furious times to the frenetic pace of life on the brink of modernity at the turn into the last century; in disparate regions of the world with cultural traditions in opposition only when considered under a purely chauvinistic gaze.
In this tenth print of the series, the wave metaphor has been blown away by the wind – the winds of change perhaps; more than fishing vessels on high seas threatened, their crews bowed, praying in unison, the mighty Mount Fuji made minute, this landscape, while treacherous still and with a winding path difficult to traverse, it is well-peopled by those taking their destiny in their own hands, doggedly facing down the head-winds.
And, if all that was not enough, the master is to feature in an upcoming exhibition at the British Museum; Hokusai: The Great Picture Book of Everything (30 September 2021 – 30 January 2022) – a recently acquired collection of small drawings, rarely before seen. The exhibition website is a wellspring of information, and includes an online look at the entire collection.
This warm mid-June Wednesday (June 16th 2021), decreed this year to be “Dalloway Day”, is just the most perfect opportunity for a city stroll. Not the famous London walk from Westminster to Bond Street that Clarissa Dalloway made all those years ago to buy flowers for her party, but a virtual guided tour with Bonnie Greer through some of the haunts of Clarissa’s creator and her friends – and, what a radical bunch they were; more than queer, however one chooses to define the word, some were, like Duncan Grant, unabashedly taking the private into the public space – and making art out of it.
Each Dalloway Day, then, can be none other than an opportunity for a sometimes loud, but often reflective, celebration of Virginia Woolf and those in her orbit; artists all, who were inspired by their favorite haunts in a city coming to terms with the monumental intellectual and material changes of modernity – its tempo and its promises.
The Impressionist Art of Seeing and Being Seen; so the impressive title of Jason Farago’s equally impressive interactive piece at The New York Times – an exploration of Impressionism and its scandalous beginnings in France in the latter half of the 19th century, as exemplified through one particular work of the one woman associated with the movement – Berthe Morisot’s “In England (Eugène Manet à l’Île de Wight)”. [To be seen at the Musée Marmottan in Paris, which houses the largest collection of her works. Unlike her male colleagues she sold very few works during her lifetime. Well, who would have thunk it!]
Farago deconstructs the painting as more than Morisot’s impression of the scene but rendered as an invitation by the artist to explore the multiple gazes – sometimes twice removed, sometimes hidden, always distorted by relative time. No longer discrete, time blurs the edges, and it is no longer clear who is doing the seeing and who or what is being seen.
In 2019, at the time of a major exhibition of her works at the Musée d’Orsay, I read (in German media) for the first time about Morisot. If it is still accessible, I hightly recommend this essay by Julian Barnes in the London Review of Books, from about that time.
To Alice Neel’s retrospective at The Met I must return, and with another startling video that the museum has pulled from their vaults. Made by two young women in 1978 (a recent interview of sorts with the film makers is at the bottom of the page and should not be missed); it is only twenty minutes long, and is a wonderful insight not only into the working life of an artist – in general and of this remarkable painter in particular – but also of a woman with a particular way of seeing and reproducing that insight in her paintings, and without prejudice. To appropriate Neel’s own opinion of herself: A rare “collector of souls” she is indeed!
Alice Neel: They Are Their Own Gifts (1978) – Margaret Murphy & Lucille Rhodes
Self-portrait, Samuel J. Brown, Jr., ca. 1941 (Open Access)
One of these that I would particularly like to mention is the above self portrait by Samuel Joseph Brown, Jr. , a Black artist that The Met states to have “gained international acclaim”, which may very well be so, but I do wonder why that doesn’t run to having a Wikipedia entry, and biographical information elsewhere in the internet seems to be scant – there is this 1982 speech at Howard by an admirer and this at the University of Kentucky library and obituary pieces in the Philadelphia Inquirer archive that I can’t access. I should say, my interest was sparked by Brown being of the same generation as Alice Neel (see previous post), both having received their art education in Philadelphia and both involved in the Public Works of Art Project and WPA, and it seems to me at approximately the same time. The possibility of paths crossing always interest me. [Postscript May 2, 2021: Have I read about Black under-representation in Wikipedia? The J. Clay Smith, Jr. who wrote the above mentioned Howard speech on Brown warranted this Washington Post obituary, for obvious reasons, and is also absent from Wiki! ]
During these times dominated by the corona pandemic and all the restrictions that implies, I have been wondering about the viewing possibilities in the greater worlds’ museums and galleries, so it is heartening to know that The Met’s doors are at least ajar, allowing for limited access. And irrespective, for those (very many) of us who probably wouldn’t be able to get there anyway, the online offerings at least allow us a glimpse behind even closed doors – and to dream on!
A rare retrospective of the work of the American realist painter Alice Neel. Even virtually, her images can be appreciated as powerful reminders of our shared humanity and strived for dignity; irrespective of where we may be on our eternal search for self and place; sought by the privileged or the deprived, in home, studio or on the street. Terrific pictures in my opinion, and I love that she insists upon “pictures”; snapshots from real life, not for her the formalities of portraiture! The exhibition primer explores the sources of Neel’s inspiration; to be seen written in the faces and on the streets of Harlem.
In an excellent piece at The New York Times, Roberta Smith lauds Neel into the pantheon of modern painting; contextualising her radicalness in terms of the social and political turmoil of the twentieth century, and the complex interaction between those powerful exterior forces and the equally palpable interiors of the subjects, and in the virtuosity in which Neel, with colour and texture, bring all these facets together in her composition.
One reads, also, of the brilliant Met installation; the curators playing with chronology, thematics and historical; Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey have their say in the following excellent little video which was a virtual opening of sorts. I don’t know the pandemic status in respect to museums in New York at the moment, but it is to be hoped that, through this show, Neel’s work will find renewed attention and viewership into the Summer months.
Virtual opening introduced by Max Hollein and presented by the co-curators Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey.
Amidst all the dark tidings from the world’s metropoles, some light at the end of the tunnel came with the New Year opening of the Moynihan Train Hall annexe to Penn Station in NYC.
Moynihan Train Hall, Opening Day 1st January 2021, by Garrett Ziegler, CC BY-SA 2.0
And this gives me the opportunity to speak to Michael Kimmelman’s verdict at The New York Times. (Kimmelman, their architecture critic whose opinions – for instance, on the perversion of “the classical” that I linked to from this post – and multi-media projects, like last year’s virtual walking tours of NYC, are always impressive.)
Firstly, Kimmelman lauds the very fact that, in these extraordinarily stressed times, such an immense public works project could be fulfilled – and within schedule and budget! And with plaudits for all those concerned – from the architects, Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, and construction engineers, Schlaich Bergermann to Gov. Cuomo and all those in-between. Placed in the historical context of its original function as a general post office and mail sorting facility (later named the James A. Farley Building, and from the same firm of architects, McKim Mead and White, responsible for the old Pennsylvania Station opened a couple of years previously and demolished in 1963), beautifully described (and pictured) are the sky lights and trusses as ” […]aerial feats of sculptural engineering and parametric design.” And recognised are the tributes paid to the original Penn and Charles McKim in the arched windows inspired by the Baths of Caracella and the geometric, hanging clock, designed by Peter Pennoyer.
Original Pennsylvania Station 1910 (demolished 1963)
Clock under the dome of the exit concourse 1962
Baths of Caracella, Rome (drawing reconstruction), 1899
General Post Office, 1912 (Farley Building)
Some of the historical inspiration for the new hall.
As a with all contemporary public projects, the realist Kimmelman acknowledges the role of commercial and retail influence, but is satisfied that, for the moment at least, these haven’t intruded excessively into the public space, and that the main hall has been designed with utilitarian motives and not capitalist; passenger service as the imperative. And that the space has been magnificently served by art installations courtesy of the Public Art Fund.
