isolated poses looking in different directions for the purpose of understandingthe ornithology room at the museum was quiet on the afternoon i visited. with the current trend for the quasi-museological in the art world, the artfully 'animated' array of bird species started to take on the uncanny presence of a contemporary art installation. naturally, i could not resist relating the experience of many preserved, dead animals in a room in a museum to the current retrospective of damien hirst's work at tate modern, london......
the physical (im)possibility of life in the mind of a taxidermista prime example of taxidermy is exhibited in this 'lively' looking tiger - simultaneously both frightening and quite frightful, a curious inversion of the hunter and the hunted…the castle museum's natural history collections, as seen in the old mahogany wood cabinets (above) to the meticulously staged landscape dioramas (some with sound effects), altogether display an exhaustive if slightly eccentric fascination with all things natural and wild. many of the specimens on display are acquisitions from the collections of local edwardian or victorian naturalists - expertly catalogued, neatly labelled & now tamely presented. it reminded me of a time when i visited tring natural history museum many years ago, and 'seeing' (unbelievably, absurdly, curiously) two fleas dressed as mexican dancers…however dear reader, i digress... this museum visit was really an opportunity to see Titian's painting, Diana and Actaeon, in the flesh (the painting is currently on a national tour, cost a staggering £50 million and it was 'bought' for the nation by a consortium of funders). i sat quietly in its great presence for many minutes, but it failed to animate my interest beyond the myth of the young hunter (Actaeon) who stumbles upon the chaste goddess of the hunt (Diana). deep thoughts about Titian the great painter and the great skill of this painting were slightly distracted by two toddlers who found the pattern of the air-conditioning grid on the floor more fascinating. it was perhaps not the admiring, attentive audience that the great Titian would have wanted.Diana and Actaeon is one of six large mythological paintings by Titian (inspired by Ovid’s series of stories, the 'Metamorphoses'), as part of an ambitious commission for King Philip II of Spain - and it would seem that Titian relished the challenge.
Diana and Actaeon, 1556–9, oil on canvas, 184.5 x 202.2 cm, © National Gallery, Londoneven with the protective barrier of 'glass' Diana and Actaeon the painting pulsated with epic drama and spectacle - in sheer scale, in the dynamics of composition, in the lushness of colours and with every florid brushstroke. i sat on the bench, i looked and i observed, and then i began to wonder; Titian may have been a great painter of full-bodied flesh but he was no painter of women.it bothered me that diana had a very small head (for a goddess) and that her legs were out of proportion with her torso (and with each other too, it seems - and, as if my eyes wanted to deceive me even further into finding more faults, i started seeing a third leg?! i take it art historians forego these small anatomical inaccuracies (as we might do when watching a sci-fi movie, the special effects versus continuity, etc)however, when viewed in the context of a museum exhibit (this is a painting that comes with its own personal security guard) i felt compelled to admire Titian's 'Diana and Actaeon' for its art historical significance. by all accounts Titian was at the top of the art hierarchy when he created this magnificent series of paintings, a showman in command of his medium (and his audience) and a wealth of rich patrons, and the art 'critics' of venice praised him (is that an oxymoron?) - does this ring any bells with anyone?however, when removing the lavish 'history' of Diana and Actaeon (expertly provided by the museum to enrich the visual experience) i later began to ponder how an outsider might 'interpret' the dramatic scene.idle thoughts led me to make a comparison of Diana and Actaeon with this quite well-known advertisement from the 1970s (badedas), as a number of visual features are superficially similar - outside/inside retreat, the swathe of the curtain, the private pleasure of bathing, a moment of alarm or surprise, the intrusion - and what might happen next. in fact, a number of the badedas adverts played on a kind of faux-historical tableaux.
however, unlike the hunter goddess diana, who is clearly enraged and will later seek her revenge (in the next episode of the story), the badedas bathing lady does not appear to be in any hurry to reach for her shotgun to do away with the red-shirted voyeur. it's all in the semiotics (reminded of my MA thesis, which was on beauty, women & advertising).when i first saw Diana and Actaeon i was put in the position (or mind) of the King who commissioned it, and from that perspective the painting becomes an object of status, wealth, and with that the delight and desire of looking & owning. the badedas advertisement's original message was [good] 'things happen after a badedas bath' and it has resonances with many other 'luxury' lifestyle advertisements of this bygone era, such as 'imperial leather' and 'milk tray' (the milk tray man). how times (and contexts) change as this advertisement now seems very sinister.when we look at an object or image (as art), into that context of looking comes prior knowledge or cultural experience and this influences interpretation and understanding. what is discussed or written about the art beforehand (and afterwards) is often more persuasive and conveys more meaning than by the simple act of just looking. the viewpoint changes, the viewer changes, the context changes, the meaning changes....In the end, the art of the past is being mystified because a privileged minority is striving to invent a history which can retrospectively justify the role of the ruling classes, and such a justification can no longer make sense in modern terms.John Berger, Ways of Seeing...
painting by numbers
Another hand-coloured, intaglio collagraph print on paper, mounted on canvas... titled according to my colour value rules (read about that here..).. and this one is called... Nepal
Nepal 2010, intaglio and painting on canvaswhich called for a quick visit to the encyclopedia for the casually-minded, wikipedia... shown below, is a topographical map of the country, bordered by India to the south, and China to the north.
There is a rich and diverse geography to Nepal, with tropical low-lying plains in the south, rising up through verdant foothills up to the mountainous peaks of the Himalayas. Curiously, the country has five distinct seasons - spring, summer, the monsoon season, then autumn and winter. When I think of Nepal, I think immediately of tea, and of the very abstract agricultural patterns of the steep hillside plantations. So, it seems not so far-fetched to see similar striations echoed in my own work - however unintentional.
...Thinking more about painting by numbers (after Gerhard Richter and his colour chart paintings) leads one to the master of appropriation, Andy Warhol..
Andy Warhol, Do It Yourself (Landscape) 1962...and then, Damien Hirst (all three artists were featured in the recent Colour Chart exhibition)..
Damien Hirst, 2-Methylbenzimidazole 2008/09Hirst inherits the concept of art as a mass-produced brand from Warhol, using assistants for his chemical spot paintings, and then later manufacturing 'spot painting kits' with strict instructions as to the completion of the artwork for the new owners. Rules for these spotted works included the spacing beween the dots and that a single colour appears only once in the final composition. Many of the titles (and the ideas) for Hirst's work are appropriated from medical textbooks and technical manuals - inspired by his idol Francis Bacon, who found inspiration in many a documentary or medical image.Artistic appropriation is good; it's about finding something interesting and then applying it to something else, for a different purpose - whether it's conceptually based or process-related.Thinking back to the paint colour charts and the assignment of names to certain colours (and my reuse of them), these branded (sometimes trademarked) names are yet another type of appropriation, taking words out of their original context (or putting them in a new context) - their minimal poetry promises a piece of paradise, a taste of the exotic, in harmony with the natural world - less about colour meanings or symbology, but more about instilling ideas and aspirations in the potential buyer.
a river, seen
this quick drawing, although not intentional, owes something to the lyrical style of impressionism... but the blues are much too strong; i didn't have anything darker to create the inky prussian blues and olive greens.
[river sketch... in caran d'ache pencil]
[river sketch... detail]ultimately, when you are drawing a fast-moving thing, every mark you make is a ghost-like calligraphic gesture, the perception of movement is naturally exaggerated, as you follow through the rippling pattern on the surface of the water, as much from memory as from direct observation...see previous river drawings and water sketches...the digital photograph, although intriguing for its natural abstraction, increased the contrast in the reflections, creating sharper edges and knocking out the subtlety of colours, creating something akin to a patterned glass window... it no longer resembles moving water...
[river surface... photograph]not sure whether the earth, air and water will lead to or translate into paintings, but exploring it by way of drawing is nevertheless good...made some virtual visits to the british museum, the hermitage and the rijksmuseum... revisiting some old masters... also checked out the frieze art fair via the guardian newspaper's extensive coverage of the event.. then perused the many reviews of damien hirst's new exhibition at the wallace collection... i also read this interview in the RA magazine; hirst is in conversation with fellow british artist john hoyland...i'll reserve my final judgment until i see the blue paintings for real, but it seems the general consensus in the media is that the paintings are mediocre, relying too much on derivative life and death motifs and falling short in the art-historical vanitas style references ... damien hirst is the most famous (and the most successful) of the original YBAs, an acronym that imparts no philosophical weight to a broadly conceptual group of artists; art that was all about the originality of the idea, individual craftsmanship was not a prerequisite... i sense that the ever-shrewd-minded hirst has sensed a creative zeitgeist, that painting is perhaps the newest sensation, but it takes a lifetime of making paintings to be a really good painter...