Do American poetasters love their William Carlos Williams, or what?  They dream William Carlos Williams. Their tails wag when they hear the name, “William Carlos Williams.”   At the end of their lives, with their last breath, they cry out, “William Carlos Williams!”

William Carlos Williams is both naked and covered in –isms.  He’s everything!

Here’s a typical gushing paean from Curtis Faville on Silliman’s blog– the whole sentiment expressed has become a ritual repeated ad nauseam:

“Williams began as a very traditional poet, writing rhymed poems about Spring and love and delicate ironies. But by the mid-’Twenties he had pushed into formally challenging constructions influenced by Cubism, Surrealism and the speech of the common people. Hardly anyone had thought to make poems out of the simple vocabulary and inflections of conversational speech, he was really the first to do it well.

In addition, he managed to throw out all the fluff and lace of traditional cliches and make little naked constructions from the raw timber of American life. They look like scaffoldings, their structure plain and unadorned like a newly framed house. “The pure products of America go crazy”–who else would have thought to write a line as accessible (and telling at the same time) as Williams? Their deceptive simplicity masks a complex kinetic energy which the line-breaks and stanzaic pauses and settings underscore.”

–Curtis Faville,  July 2008, Silliman’s blog

Among the chattering classes, sprachgefuhl will take on a mind of its own, but Williams-worship is unconsciously ingrained to the point  now where a healthy curiosity on these matters has been bottled up completely.

Faville and his somnambulant ilk are apparently too sleepy to see the contradictions here.   We count 13 in Faville’s brief post alone:

1. ‘Williams began as a very traditional poet.’  He did, and he was being published in ‘Poetry’ as a very traditional poet with his friend Pound.  All but the very gullible will quickly assume Williams was an item not because of his groundbreaking poetry, but because of his membership in a clique.  Why would his hack rhymes be published, otherwise?
2. ‘By the mid-‘Twenties he pushed into formally challenging constructions.’   Ahem.  The Dial Prize in 1926 was Williams’ first real public recognition; the editor of ‘The Dial’ in 1926 was Marianne Moore.  The content of the ‘The Dial’ was mostly European avant-garde: Picasso, Cezanne & T.S. Eliot (who won the ‘Dial Prize’ in 1922).  Williams was not ‘pushing.’  He was being pulled.  He was 43 years old and had known Pound for years—he was finally ‘getting with the program’ and doing what the clique required.  Moore won the Dial Prize in 1924—she had known then-Dial editor Scofield Thayer (T.S. Eliot’s old schoolmate at Milton Academy), as well as Pound and William Carlos Williams for years at that time.
3. ‘Influenced by Cubism, Surrealism and the speech of the common people.   How nifty.  ‘Cubism’ (!) and ‘Surrealism’ (!) ‘the speech of the common people.’  Yea, they go hand in hand.  Maybe in some pedant’s dream…
4. ‘Hardly anyone had thought to make poems out of the simple vocabulary…’  This is utterly false.  Compare any century of poetry with Williams–his vocabulary is not simpler.
5. ‘Hardly anyone had thought to make poems out of the inflections of conversational speech.’  Again, false.  Robert Browning is far more conversational than Williams.  Williams’ poetry is actually less ‘conversational’ than examples from the 17th century.
6. ‘He was really the first to do it well.’  Another whopper.
7. ‘He managed to throw out all the fluff and lace of traditional clichés…’  Oh-kay…   William Carlos Williams personally threw out ALL the so-called ‘fluff and lace’ which centuries of poetry is burdened with.  Every so-called ‘traditional cliché’ evaporated before Williams’ magic touch.
8. ‘Little naked constructions.’  What are these?  Elf robots which dance in poetaster’s dreams?
9. ‘raw timber of American life.’  William Carlos Williams as Paul Bunyan…
10. ‘They look like scaffoldings’   We are not sure what ‘they’ are.  Ideas? Poems?  Fragments of poems?   By now, of course, it doesn’t matter…
11. ‘their structure plain and unadorned…’   Ah, yes.  They’re ‘raw.’  They’re honest.
12. ‘Who else would have thought to write a line as accessible (and telling at the same time) as… “The pure products of America go crazy.”  This is accessible?  And telling?
13. ‘Their deceptive simplicity masks a complex kinetic energy…’  OK, we’ve heard enough.

Egad!   We can quote from this hyperbole no longer. 

What’s that?  WC Williams’ ghost is a Martian! and he’s beaming radio transmissions of kinetic energy to selected earthlings like Curtis Faville? 

Why didn’t  someone tell me?  

This explains everything!

en attendant de tomber dans la soupe, un oignon oublié perd son temps au café…

à des kilomètres d’une sainte-victoire en cendres, un tableau se détache avec son fond gris…

le peintre aurait dit que “madame cézanne posait comme une pomme”…

les oignons font pleurer, …

la peinture redonne le sourire…

I ended my post on Clay Christensen’s idea of disruptive innovation in business with a promise (threat?) to try to extend the concept to other spheres of life. The purpose of this little exercise–as with almost anything on The Hannibal Blog–is to test this idea. In other words: If Christensen’s idea is profound (as opposed to banal, as many of you seem to think, based your comments) it must be extensible, so let’s see whether it is.

Attempt Number 1: Context = Art; Example = Paul Cézanne

Here is how I would write a biography of Cézanne using (in green italics) concepts from Christensen’s theory:

I) The incumbent

The incumbent during the nineteenth century, especially in France, was the mostly neoclassical art establishment. Conservative, staid, rigid, it demanded high and traditionally-defined technical mastery from artists:

• The improvement trajectory of art was to paint/sculpt the same old subjects (Rome/Greece, Virgin Mary etc, flower vases, hunts….) in the same style but with ever more skill.
• The intended market was that of existing art connoisseurs (gallery goers, critics, the nobility).
• If we were to choose an institution to represent this establishment, we would pick the Paris Salon, an exhibition by the Académie des beaux-arts whose gate-keepers were a jury of art snobs.

II) The disruptor

One group of hirsute and rebellious young men finally said the obvious: that this art establishment was boring and served only the twisted standards and tastes of a small circle of snobs. They told that establishment to go to Hell and painted in a different style. The incumbent considered it less technically accomplished and either ignored or insulted it, dubbing it, derisively, impressionism.

One man, so loosely affiliated with this “group” that he did not even consider himself to be part of it, was Paul Cézanne. Cézanne was not obviously gifted at painting in a technical sense (his best friend, Émile Zola, was far better at drawing, which was all the more infuriating since Zola did not even take this talent very seriously because he wanted to be, and became, a writer instead). But Cézanne pressed on:

• He embarked on his own improvement trajectory, beginning with incredibly simple subjects–for example, the same house in the sun of Provence, over and over again–and gradually, over the course of an entire life time, became better.
• His market, if he thought about it all, was that of non-consumers: all those people, from his friends to ordinary folks, who did not necessarily visit the Paris Salon, or any museum, who did not care whether this artist was technically superior to that artist, who just looked at something and said Ahhhh.
• The incumbent, seeing that Cézanne was technically inferior, ignored him. Year after year, Cézanne submitted his canvases to the Paris Salon, and year after year the jury rejected him. Cézanne instead hung his paintings in the ironically-named Salon des Refusés.
• Over time, however, Cézanne became good enough (technically speaking), while staying original and simple, so that, his market of previous non-consumers swelled and eventually embraced the market of previous consumers, ie those who had once paid attention only to the art sanctioned by the Paris Salon but now decided that Cézanne was worth a look.
• At this point the disruption occurs. The Paris Salon belatedly recognizes Cézanne, but hardly anybody even cares any longer. A new generation of artists now looks to Cézanne, not Neoclassicism, for inspiration. Cézanne’s rebellion and authenticity become the “new normal” and a century of permanent revolution in art begins. Pablo Picasso calls Cézanne “the father of us all”. Cubism, Expressionism, and all their descendants acknowledge their debt to Cézanne.
• Cézanne thus becomes the incumbent, even as Picasso and others are already beginning their new round of disruption.

Background

Cubism began at a time of great change in our history – the Modern period. The Modern period was influenced and instigated by the industrial revolution. It is recognised as a revolution due to the vast amount and speed at which new technologies and inventions were introduced to the world. For example, within the period ranging from around the 1860s to 1930s saw the introduction of the car and the internal combustion engine as the main mode of transport, electricity was being introduced in cities across Europe and the US, with electricity came the lightbulb replacing oil and gas lamps, developments in production meant that products could be made quicker, in larger quantities and distributed further. So, technology and science was taking a hold and changing our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

At the beginning of the 20th century art, as it so often does, reflected life and with a new, modern world came Modern Art. The beginning of which was Cubism.

Process of seeing

Paul Cezanne, a post-impressionist painter, first introduced the idea of showing the process of seeing in his paintings not just the result. You can see slight changes in positioning of lines and tones in his later paintings. The Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque would take this idea to an extreme in what is now considered Cubism.

Analytical Cubism

The idea of Analytical Cubism was to use the painters whole understanding of the subject (how it is seen from all angles) in one single viewpoint. The subject would be studied, simplified and drafted into a single painting.

Georges Braque – ‘Woman with a guitar’

The analytical paintings produced by Picasso and Braque were often monochromatic in tone and recognisable forms (if any) were simplified making the paintings increasingly abstract. The following painting by Picasso is almost entirely abstract in it’s visual appearance, we are only aware of the fact that it is a painting of a guitarist by it’s title.

Although visually radical the Cubists opted for traditional subject matter focussing on portraits, still life and landscapes. Braque produced many paintings  of areas that Cezanne had painted before him but in the cubist style – simplifying the forms to basic shapes and tones.

Synthetic Cubism

Synthetic Cubism evolved from the analytical style and included elements of collage. Picasso and Braque included various textured elements into their paintings. The synthetic paintings would also include cuttings from newspapers and hand-rendered type inspired by the signs found on their favourite cafes and club houses.

Juan Gris

Gris joined the Cubist movement at a later date as a student of Picasso’s and in doing so developed his own style. Gris paintings from both Analytical and Synthetic styles differ from Picasso and Braque’s in that they have more depth in colour and are visually more recognisable.

Although the movement was short lived (until 1919) it remains today one of the most recognised and respected movements of the 20th century.

Cubism (Taschen Basic Art Series)

Just a short update really.  Had a very cultured weekend last weekend.

Friday I managed to be extremely blonde and left my wallet on my desk at work – only me!  Luckily I’d put my bank card in my pocket at lunch so I was still able to actually do stuff… but then I got on the wrong tram without realising it and ended up having to walk about 3km home so did not go out on Friday night, just got home and vegged out – which is also good

Saturday I met up with John and we went to see the Cezanne, Picasso and Mondrian exhibition in The Hague which was ace.  We also had a wander around the rest of the museum as well while we were there.  Luckily the rain held off till we were actually in the museum!  It was quite a complete collection and really documented the progression of the cubist technique throughout the 3 artists lives and how the took inspiration from each other (which on a few paintings I’m sorry, it wasn’t inspiration, it was copying ).

Then on Saturday night I went through to Amsterdam for Museum Night.  This is a night where you buy one ticket and get access into all the museums in the city plus you can use it once more before the end of the year in case you miss anything.  The city was heaving and there were queues in front of every museum.  We went to the City Archives which was interesting… live music and free beer as well.  And then we headed for the Handbag Museum which was ace, though funnily enough almost totally female dominated   We also got to dress up in 1920s style and get our photo taken which was fun.

Then on Sunday I headed through to John’s and we had a bit of a jam session which was ace… though I got homework, not sure what that’s all about!!   Then had roast dinner which is always good

Still busy this week, got dinner with Mo tonight out on Thurs then visitor on Friday and Saturday is Eddie Izzard in Amsterdam.  So so so so so excited about that!  Been a fan for years but never seen him live so have high expectations.  Not sure what’s happening for the rest of the night – would be good to go out in Amsterdam but will see what everybody else fancies.

Crazy busy at work as usual, but still enjoying it so its all good   Got the Christmas party to look forward to in the second week in December which looks like it could be rather interesting.

One of the side effects of a tragedy like the shooting at Fort Hood is its overshadowing of so many other concerns.  The event is just so sad that it makes much else seem, at least, temporarily, insignificant.  (I say, temporarily, because, attention spans are short in our media-drenched culture.)

Such overshadowing can be especially problematic for a writer or artist suffering from writer/artist’s block.  One feels idiotic to even mention such an issue, but there it is–one more reason why one’s work feels stupid, not worth the trouble.   This is especially true if you are a writer or artist whose work doesn’t deal with these kinds of violent tragic impulses, this extent of sudden loss.

This reaction sounds terribly narcissistic.   But usually the struggling writer/artist feels the national tragedy deeply.  He/she may want to respond in some helpful, articulate, way, but can only come up with platitudes.  Writing well about politics and despair may simply not be one’s cup of tea.  However, in the midst of such events, writing about anything else may feel idiotic.

Don’t be driven into inaction because you feel insignificant.  Go on.  You are who you are.  You do the work you do.

This is not to say that you shouldn’t stretch yourself.  You absolutely should.  (Especially if you’re someone prone to blocks or avoidance.)   But don’t give up on something because you feel that it seems silly, inconsequential.

Think about (i)  Dutch interior paintings (Vermeer); and (ii) still lives (Cezanne, Braque, Picasso).

Think  about (i) Charlotte’s Web, (just about the most brilliant children’s book every written – about a pig, spider, and barn);  (ii) Ulysses (a day, mainly, in the life of humdrum Leopold Bloom, (iii) To the Lighthouse (which has, to my mind, one of the most heartbreaking descriptions of the changes in England wrought by World War I, told mainly by the wind rushing through an abandoned house, (iv) The Importance of Being Earnest, (v)  A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream; (vi) almost any poem by Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, lots of  Chinese poets, (vii) too many others to name.

Don’t judge yourself so much.  If you are someone that writes about Columbine, or 9/11, or Fort Hood, that’s wonderful–our world needs help understanding these horrible events.    But don’t worry if you do not directly work on these things;  everything you are and know and think about is in the core, or texture, or background of what you do.  So just do it;  it will do.

PS – check out my many other posts re writer’s block, and writing, and writing exercises, by checking those categories.  Also, check out 1 Mississippi by Karin Gustafson at Amazon, or at link from home page.

Thanks be to dennisovich for documenting the performance!

I gave the following talk at the RAM’s seminar on Friday 6 November 2009. This is the text used. The line in the middle indicates the place where I spoke about my other methodology, which was drawn from my earlier posts here about methodology.

In 1905 Cézanne wrote a letter to Emile Bernard in which he commented that ‘time and reflection […] modify little by little our vision, and at last comprehension comes to us.’ This quote comes from the article ‘Making Space: The Purpose and Place of Practice-led Research’, written by Graeme Sullivan (2008). It’s a nice idea, and also one that belongs to an earlier era, when stating the concept that ‘comprehension could be attained’ was still possible. In this postmodern time such utopias seem naïve, yet the notion that action and reflection are bound in an iterative cycle of alteration and modification is one that this talk will explore.

This is right and proper, since it relates to a topic that happened ‘before my time’ (the mid-1960s) in a country from which I was once geographically disconnected (in Wiltshire). The way in which I am going about uncovering its contours is one that relies on recognizing the iterative nature of research, the way that this process impels further inquiry, and the reflective scepticism that it engenders.

To Cézanne’s ‘little-by-little’ modification I will add precarious moments of clarity, confusion and boredom that also shape the research process, enabling and disabling potential outcomes in future writing. I will discuss this in terms of categories and tags when I explain my working with a blog.

My research into the Wardour Castle Summer Schools seeks to clarify the events in terms of who was there, what went on, what its impact was and how it has been documented. It also seeks to track the process of research and to be attentive to the choices made in documentation. In bringing these forces together, my research adopts forms that complicate, confuse, blur and reconfigure research and publication. My methodologies above all emphasise the little-by-little modification of my vision of these events, to understand better how there were comprehended, as well as my own comprehension of them. It’s research that is led by my practice of composing a new idea of the Wardour Castle Summer Schools.

Earlier I mentioned Cézanne, before immediately moving away from it, critiquing Cézanne’s comments and opening up space for positioning my research in relation to the research-led and practice-led methodologies that provided the impetus for the book in which Cézanne is quoted. My research responds to the literature of this debate, as well as forging idiosyncratic methodologies that suit my topic. If my reference to Cézanne is unconvincing, it’s because I am skeptical, but such a problem need not be debilitating, since it enables new thoughts: a modification of vision. In this specific case, I know that finishing reading the book will prompt some major changes in my methodology and critical stance. With major changes looming it’s important that I clarify where I am now, so I know what’s changed. More generally, this is research in progress, unstable, subject to contradiction and alteration. It’s also research that is flexible, prone to following fashions that indicate the possibility of shared understanding. Responding to last week’s seminar, I want to re-begin this seminar with a quote from Jorge Luis Borges:

On Exactitude in Science

In that Empire, the Art of Cartography attained such Perfection that the map of a single Province occupied the entirety of a City, and the map of the Empire, the entirety of a Province. In time, those Unconscionable Maps no longer satisfied, and the Cartographers Guilds struck a Map of the Empire whose size was that of the Empire, and which coincided point for point with it. The following Generations, who were not so fond of the Study of Cartography as their Forebears had been, saw that that vast Map was Useless, and not without some Pitilessness was it, that they delivered it up to the Inclemencies of Sun and Winters. In the Deserts of the West, still today, there are Tattered Ruins of that Map, inhabited by Animals and Beggars; in all the Land there is no other Relic of the Disciplines of Geography.

Suarez Miranda,Viajes de varones prudentes, Libro IV,Cap. XLV, Lerida, 1658 (Borges, 1999)

Predating last week’s seminar by a week I wrote:

In mapping the ‘lieux de memoire’ of these events, my map-making needs to embrace modernism’s lessons and to inhabit the tattered ruins of previous maps, by which I mean to be creative in the patchiness of memory rather than to focus on finding the edges of its tatters as a precursor to sewing it together.

I then discussed the work of Otto von Busch, a Swedish fashion theorist with a speciality in hacking fashion.

Before this is dismissed as too tangential from my research it is worth considering a juxtaposition. Firstly, Otto von Busch, again.

Compare that with the following quote from Graeme Sullivan, writing about Cézanne:

A […] lesson to be taken from artistic and scientific investigations of a century ago is the realisation of the necessity of communicating across fields of inquiry. [….] Coming to understand the interconnections among visual forms, patterns of inquiry and different perspectives offers the possibility of  making intuitive and intellectual leaps towards the creation of new knowledge. (Sullivan 2009, 43)

The link between these two theorists is a meta-methodological one. If you look up ‘metamethod’ in the 2009 book Fieldwork Is Not What It Used To Be: Learning Anthropology’s Method in a Time of Transition, one is directed to the index entry on ‘craft culture’. At the risk of stammering, the meta-metamethodological content of this book sews together the tatters of map anew to connect method and craft with conceptions about both method and craft.

(As an aside, Steven Connor’s work on stammering and Alvin Lucier is fascinating. http://www.stevenconnor.com/phonophobia/ See too Borges on Funes ‘a certain stammering greatness’ for his mind is ‘folded in on itself’ (Connor))

The point is that Fieldwork Is Not What It Used To Be is a book that reflects a postmodern way of working, where hierarchies can be connected in new ways to destabilize old ideas. In this case there is a new connection between metamethodology and professional craft, that is, the practice of undertaking fieldwork, which is as practical as anthropology gets. The map has been connected in new ways, no longer reliant on linear connections represented by ratios of scale.

If this is post-Borges in its conception of mapping, then it’s interesting to consider the recent story about the fictitious town Argleton, reported widely in the press this week. <http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2009/nov/03/google> Borges’ fictions seem alive and well.

There is another reason that I refer to Fieldwork Is Not What It Used To Be, since it is a text written by professors and their best former students who worked together at Rice University. The book is motivated by a shift in what students wanted from the 1980s, where theory was taught prior to practice, to today, when most graduate students within universities already have experience working with NGOs and other places where they are practising fieldwork (17). Rather than simply reworking new syllabuses, the book seeks to engage in new ways of thinking, lead by the young practitioners in the discipline. This may go some way to explaining the particular methods I have chosen for my research. It also recalls Neil Heyde’s comments in the first of this year’s seminar’s about this as a forum for working through new problems.

If my talk still seems to tangential, then it’s time to tell you more about the Wardour Castle Summer Schools, and the ways in which some tangents become centres.

Taking place in 1964 and 1965 these events brought together a wide range of composers who later formed the core and the tangent of British music making. Darmstadt and Dartington brought leading composers and performers in contact with those less experienced, in lectures and concerts. Wardour Castle fostered a culture of discussion among the UK’s young practitioners.

You can find this text on my blog, and if you have anything to add, do use the comment option.

Forgetting:

Recently the New Scientist reviewed two books. One on remembering everything, one on the virtue of forgetting. Yadin Dudai on remembering:

The scheme seems ingeniously simple and technically feasible. To overcome oblivion, say the authors, all you need are sensitive miniature sensors and several terabytes of storage, which are already or soon-to-be affordable. You can then record every minute of your life using video, audio, location and physiological signals, culminating in the commitment of this endless stream of information to your personal MyLifeBits account in your pocket and/or in cyberspace. Proper software will permit you to retrieve the information years later, and it will even pass by default to your progeny for eternity, with the hope that they will pay attention to it.

http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20427311.700-memory-and-forgetting-in-the-digital-age.html

Part of Microsoft’s research project includes new work on ways of annotating, hyperlinking, and full-text transcription of a life’s experience. http://research.microsoft.com/en-us/projects/mylifebits/

Yadin Dudai’s critique utilizes the lastest scientific research on brain function:

as cognitive psychology and neuroscience demonstrate again and again, two individuals sensing the same input, or the same individual sensing the same input at different times, may understand very different things. So registering bits of episodes is unlikely to really preserve these episodes. [….] Most importantly, though, the authors, consumed by their hunt for every last bit of information (and even offering practical advice on how to make an extra buck in the process), forget forgetting.

Dudai then continues, stating that ‘for the human condition, forgetting is at least as important as remembering – sometimes more so.’ He then gives two examples, one a real mnemonist, Solomon Shereshevsky, and other ‘Funes the Memorious’, the subject of Borges’s fictional story from the 1940s. Funes’ reconstruction of an entire day takes an entire day. Borges:

‘To think is to ignore (or forget) differences, to generalize, to abstract.’ (Borges 1999, 137)

To an extent about which I cannot be precise, loss of memory of details and the unmemorability of the events are entangled.

My methodology extends from this position, and seeks not to try to record everything, nor to gather all the facts. When Michael Hall told me that he wouldn’t let me listen to his recordings made with composers I was glad. Some of those composers are now dead. So too was David Lumsdaine when we first met:

I first met David Lumsdaine in November 2003. I had travelled from my home in Sydney’s South to Cremorne, on the Lower North Shore, hoping to interview him. Before I asked any questions, he explained to me that he was a ghost, for, as a composer, he had died years before. He then described something of the trauma of this death. The conversation continued until he was assured that I understood that any answers he gave to my questions were as reliable as those divined by a spirit‐medium. When it seemed that this was understood, he allowed me to turn on my microphone, and the interview commenced.

The recording of that conversation, like subsequent discussions I have had with Lumsdaine, occupy a ground between the supposed voices of the dead captured on tape, and insightful thoughts by a commentator intimately familiar with the music. (Hooper, 2008)

My methodology is grounded on the importance of disciplined creativity in the face of forgetting, of sewing the tatters of the past together into new forms. In so doing I am aiming to generalize and to abstract. To a large extent, that is why the focus of this talk is not on the events of the 1964 and 1965 Wardour Castle Summer Schools, which I have published online to be viewed by all those with an interest.

When documenting, it’s important for me to forget, but also to record decisions that lead to forgetting, since they are the records that enable me to join together different levels of abstraction and to hone a methodology that engages with the disciplines of musicology, anthropology, design and fashion.

Busch, Otto von (2009), talk at the RSA http://www.thersa.org/events/audio-and-past-events/2009/hacking-design–folly,-theft-or-a-new-democratic-dawn

Borges, Jorge Luis (1999) Collected Fictions trans. Andrew Hurley (Penguin).

Fieldwork is nor what it used to be

Hooper, Michael (2008) The Music of David Lumsdaine 1966-1980 (PhD thesis).

Mayer-Schönberger, Viktor (2009) Delete: The virtue of forgetting in the digital age (Princeton University Press).

Sullivan, Graeme (2009) ‘Making Space: The Purpose and Place of Practice-led Research), Practice-led Research: Research-led Practice in the Creative Arts, H. Smith and R. T. Dean (eds) (Edinburgh University Press).

*

[...] Ed ecco, macchinalmente, oppresso dalla giornata grigia e dalla prospettiva di un triste domani, portai alle labbra un cucchiaino di tè in cui avevo inzuppato un pezzetto di madeleine.

Ma nel momento stesso che quel sorso misto a briciole di focaccia toccò il mio palato, trasalii, attento a quanto avveniva in me di straordinario.

Un piacere delizioso m’aveva invaso, isolato, senza nozione della sua causa. M’aveva subito reso indifferenti le vicissitudini della vita, le sue calamità inoffensive, la sua brevità illusoria, nel modo stesso che agisce l’amore, colmandomi d’un’essenza preziosa: o meglio quest’essenza non era in me, era me stesso.

(M. Proust, La strada di Swann)

*

E’ iniziata il 26 settembre e terminerà il 7 marzo 2010 la mostra firmata da Marco Goldin a Villa Manin (Udine).
Tema centrale è il rapporto tra la nascita della cosiddetta scuola di Barbizon in Francia è la diffusione del Realismo e del Naturalismo nei Paesi dell’Europa centrale ed orientale.
120 sono le opere esposte e suddivise n quattro distinti capitoli: Villaggi, Acque, Ritratti e Figure. Quindi si il percorso espositivo inizia da celebri artisti quali Courbet, Corot, Millet, Rousseau..poi si avvicina al periodo impressionista con opere di Manet, Monet, Bazille, Caillebotte, Sisley, Renoir, Pisarro, Degas, Cèzanne. Sono inoltre presenti tre opere di Van Gogh provenienti dal museo di Amsterdam.

I go to museums to discover something new. I go to restaurants to eat. When I can do both things on the same day, it can be a pretty good day. Such was the case on a recent Saturday when I took in the outstanding exhibition Turner to Cezanne at the Everson Museum in Syracuse.

This exhibition brings pieces from the collection of a pair of sisters from Wales, the Davies. Only five cities in the nation will be showcasing these pieces, and the Everson is one of the five.

Impressionist pieces are at the core of the exhibition, including several by Monet. I was mesmerized by Charing Cross Bridge, one of the many studies he did of London. Monet loved the London fog and mist and the diffused light.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir's La Parisienne, 1874. Photo courtesy of Everson Museum.

It was terrific to stand in front of Renoir’s life-size canvas, La Parisienne, and take in the bold shimmering blues of the dress worn by this “modern” woman of Paris. You could easily imagine the swish and shush of her dress as she entered a ballroom.

My discovery, though, was of a painting by the sole woman artist in the exhibition, Berthe  Morisot. I was not familiar with her work, and I left the exhibition thinking of her painting — At Bougival — more than any other.

The painting is of a mother and child enjoying the outdoors, and they are almost subsumed by the vigorous greens of the grass portrayed through thick swirls of color. The bucolic scene actually feels energetic because of the vigorous brush strokes.

Morisot studied under Corot and was influenced by Manet, who would one day become her brother-in-law. She would become the only woman painter in the group that would become known as the Impressionists.

It was great to learn more about her at the exhibition, where you can use your cell phone and punch in a code to learn about several of the paintings.

If you haven’t been yet, go to the Everson. The show runs until Jan. 3.

Not wanting to exercise only one half of my brain, after the Everson I wandered down to Shifty’s, a neighborhood bar on Burnet Avenue, to watch some of the Syracuse University football game. The bar prides itself in offering live music, a good beer selection, and good wings.  I had discovered it during a St. Patrick’s Day jaunt with some friends last year. We had a great time, and I thought a return visit was in order.

On this Saturday, the Orange would actually go on to victory, a rare occurrence, by beating Akron.  I walked away a winner by ordering some wings from the kitchen. 

I don’t eat chicken wings as much as I used to, but when they are done right, which means hot but not inferno-like, they can be fun to eat. Shifty’s wings were great: meaty, crisp, and packing some punch.  I enjoyed a dozen for $6.50, and matched with a couple drafts, I left the ‘Cuse a happy man.

Creature della notte e incontri d’amore negli anni mediterranei del pittore russo in mostra  a Palazzo Blu a  Pisa

di Simona Maggiorelli

«Le ricerche dei cubisti non mi hanno mai appassionato. Riducevano tutto a una geometria di cui restavano schiavi, mentre io cercavo piuttosto una liberazione plastica, non solo della fantasia o dell’immaginazione», così in un’intervista Marc Chagall raccontava la propria ricerca, non riuscendo a dissimulare un certo rodimento verso quella picassiana che negli anni Dieci del Novecento aveva rivoluzionato radicalmente il modo di intendere e di fare pittura. Rivendicando il valore inattuale dell’arte figurativa, il pittore di Vitbsk difendeva un suo personale universo poetico, legato alla cultura ebraica e popolare dei villaggi della Russia, un mondo a parte lontanissimo da ciò che accadeva in Europa.Rivendicando legami con una tradizione che si era fermata nel tempo con un’iconografia quasi raggelata. Non si può dimenticare, senza volerla dire in termini rudemente marxisti che la servitù della gleba fino e oltre la rivoluzione del 1917 era la realtà di larga parte della Russia e la necessità di soddisfare i bisogni primari non lasciava molto tempo per l’arte .  Ma è anche vero che , quella tradizione, Chagall cercava di  rileggerla attraverso una lente deformante, con carica visionaria, personale.

«Io mi sforzo di costruire un mondo dove l’albero può significare altro – diceva – dove io posso immediatamente constatare di avere sette dita nella mano destra, ma cinque in quella sinistra, insomma un universo dove tutto è possibile».

La fantasia di Chagall., come aspirazione,  inseguiva la potenza del sogno, libero dalle griglie rigide del principio di non contraddizione. Cercava la polisemia delle immagini. Ma anche quella palpabile atmosfera di magia che il buio ogni sera porta con sé. E sono epifanie di creature della notte quelle che accendono le sale di Palazzo Blu a Pisa con la mostra Chagall e il Mediterraneo (fino al 17 gennaio, catalogo Giunti) curata da Claudia Beltramo Ceppi e da Meret Meyer. Centocinquanta opere – tra dipinti, sculture, ceramiche e tavole – provenienti dal Pompidou di Parigi, dal museo Chagall di Nizza e dal museo Matisse di Cateau-Cambrésis, in cui Chagall si dedicò allo studio della luce piena del Sud (sulla scia del viaggio in Provenza di Van Gogh) e all’esplorazione di un sentimento più calmo rispetto a quello che connota i quadri del periodo più intensamente orfico.

da left avvenimenti del 30 ottobre 2009

LE FIABE PERDUTE DI CHAGALL
Un immigrato si familiarizza con la lingua del Paese di adozione facendosi leggere  e rileggere dalla  moglie le favole di La Fontaine. Talvolta la ferma al punto in cui i poeta fa la morale. ” Questa puoi saltarla”. Poi quando ormai la conosce a memoria, la dipinge con una fantasmagoria di colori gioiosi, brillanti e sgargianti, quasi pop, che accentuano, anzi fanno esplodere l’elemento ironico, fiabesco, surreale. Lui è già un pittore famoso, non un esordiente, L’editore che gli ha commissionato le tavole, è uno dei più grandi editori dei suoi tempi. Mal gliene incoglie però. Gli rinfacciamo di tradire il più elegante,”il più cartesiano e il più lucido” dei poeti francesi del’600, una gloria della cultura occidentale, facendolo illustrare ” dalla barbarie urlata ispirata al colore di un orientale”. L’immigrato è russo. E per giunta ebreo. Che sarebbe a dire, per quei tempi, peggio che extracomunitario. Nella sua città natale, Vitebsk, ora Bielorussia, era stato registrato all’anagrafe  come Moshva (mosè) Shagal. A Parigi si sarebbe fatto chiamare Marc Chagall. L’editore per cui lavorava si chiama  Ambroise Vollard. Ha già fatto fortuna lanciando Cézanne, Matisse , Guaguin, Van Gogh e un altro immigrato. Picasso. Ma gli rimproverano di aver montato soprattutto artisti ” stranieri e semiti”. Chagall gli ha già illustrato Le anime morte di Gogol, ma con incisioni, in bianco e nero. Gli illustrerà poi, sempre con incisioni, I profeti della Bibbia. Per il progetto La Fontaine si butta invece sul colore, inventando nuovi impasti, ricchi, corposi, talvolta addirittura quasi violenti. Non sono più nemmeno i colori notturni, spenti, tristi della sua infanzia, che pure lo avevano reso celebre. Sono colori solari, che scintillano di allegria, sono i colori del paesaggio francese e del Mediterraneo, che Chagall ha appena scoperto, sono i colori di Cèzanne, di Matisse, dei Fauves, non più quelli dello shtlel, del villaggio-ghetto…. Tra il 1926 e il 1927 Chagall aveva realizzato un centinai di gauches sulle favole. Il libro a colori non sarebbe mai uscito. Non si hanno ragioni convincenti del perché. Si disse che Vollard avrebbe rinunciato perché le prove di stampa a colore non erano riuscite bene. Più tardi Chagall avrebbe ripiegato su incisioni con gli stessi soggetti. Sarà anche andata così. Ma qualcosa non quadra. La Francia continuava ad accogliere immigrati era un polo d’attrazione per gli intellettuali da ogni angolo di Europa. Ma in fatto di avversione agli stranieri tirava una brutta aria… Nell’inaugurare a Monoco nel 1937 la grande mostra “Arte degenerata”, Hitler aveva inorizzato sui dipinti con cieli verdi e mari viola, e proprio la sterilizzazione e il ricovero forzato nei manicomi dei Disgraziati che spingono così perché vedono le cose così, Tra le 730 opere forzosamente  sequestrate e additate all’infamia c’erano diversi Chagall….

( estratto da Le fiabe perdute, Chagall, di Sigmund Ginzberg da la Repubblica)

British Museum (detalle)

Fleet River Bakery

Comenzamos el segundo día de estancia en Londres con un buen desayuno en la Fleet River Bakery (un local con tres habitaciones muy acogedoras, en diferentes niveles), donde se puede tomar desde una macedonia de frutas con yogur hasta el típico desayuno inglés (y todo casero).

.

Sir John Soane's Museum

A pocos metros del café estaba nuestra primera parada cultural del día: el increíble Museo de Sir John Soane. La casa-museo del famoso arquitecto es un laberinto de objetos de arte y arquitectura que le dejan a uno con la boca abierta (una de mis escasas compras fue un libro espléndidamente editado sobre el museo).

Más tarde, fuimos dando un paseo hasta Lambs Conduit St. (calle que descubrí por la revista Monocle), una preciosa calle peatonal llena de preciosas tiendas de todo tipo: restaurantes, peluquerías, fruterías, tiendas de bicicletas, etc. Entre todas esas tiendas está Persephone Books, una librería que edita exquisitamente los libros que vende, donde nos detuvimos para comprarle un regalo a Anay.

Frutería y tienda de productos ecológicos en Lambs Conduit Street

Tiendas en Lambs Conduit Street

British Museum (detalle del interior)

Lo siguiente en el recorrido del viernes fue el British Museum, que merecería la pena aunque sólo fuera por la cubierta de Foster. Pero es que, además, tiene una colección de saqueo pirata impresionante: la esculturas del Partenón, la Piedra Rosetta y otras maravillas egipcias, etc., etc. Como curiosidad, había mucha gente copiando en sus cuadernos de dibujo las esculturas del museo, y un chico tenía un cartel que ponía (en inglés): “Por favor, no me hagan fotos”.

British Museum (detalle de la cubierta de Foster)

Edificios en Bloomsbury Square y en 1 Kemble Street

Bar en el Folies-Bergère (Edouard Manet)

Salimos del British y nos dirigimos a la Somerset House (por el camino pasamos por Museum St., donde hay un patio con tiendas de lo más apetecibles (de fotografía, librerías, etc.), Bloomsbury Square y Kingsway –Fernando me descubrió un edificio muy interesante (de R. Steifert & Partners) en 1 Kemble St.– hasta llegar a Strand), para ver la Courtauld Gallery, donde uno se sorprende de la cantidad de obras espléndidas que alberga (especialmente la colección de pinturas impresionistas de Manet, Cézanne, Gauguin, etc.).

Escaleras de la Courtauld Gallery

Comimos en un McDonalds en Fleet St. (compensamos con un buen café y chocolate belga en Manon Café, en el 110 de la misma calle) y nos dirigimos después a Magma Books, en Clerkenwell Road (libros de arte, fotografía, diseño y cómics) y a Pure Groove (un café con tienda discos, donde hay actuaciones en directo, que está en West Smithfield).

Magma Books y Pure Groove

St. Paul's Cathedral

Para la tarde quedaban la catedral de St. Paul, el Millenium Bridge de Foster y la Tate Modern (desde mi punto de vista, uno de los pocos museos de arte moderno que es brillante tanto en continente como en contenido).

En la Tate Modern había una exposición de arte Pop (Pop Life), pero yo ya había visto dos muy similares en contenido (una de ellas, Pop Art, la vi en 1992 en la Royal Academy of Arts), así que nos dedicamos a ver la exposición permanente (Picasso, Giacometti, Pollock, etc.) y a disfrutar del fantástico edificio (la instalación de la sala de turbinas no me gustó nada, pero quizá fue el recuerdo de la fantástica instalación de Olafur Eliason de 2003 (The Weather Project) el que hizo que la actual me pareciera tan mala).

La catedral de San Pablo vista desde el Millenium Bridge

Exterior e interior (sala de turbinas) de la Tate Modern

Fernando, delante de la Tate Modern, esperando a que yo terminara de hacer fotos (¡qué paciencia tiene!)

Millenium Bridge con St. Paul al fondo

Liberty

Terminadas las visitas culturales, finalizamos el viernes con un paseo por Carnaby Street (tiendas de zapatillas, MUJI, Liberty, Supersuperficial –una tienda de camisetas–, etc.) y las calles cercanas del Soho, y con una fantástica cena en Ping Pong, un asiático de moda (siempre hay cola) especializado en Din Sum (el Char Sui Bun está simplemente espectacular).

Continuará…

Oficina de Turismo, junto a la catedral de San Pablo

Christine, de la Chatterie du Royaume de Dan Sun, propose à l’adoption son splendide Cézanne, chocolate silver tabby point en possession de son pédigrée.

Quelques informations supplémentaires le concernant :

• Né le 5 juin 2007
• Mâle castré
• Vaccins et vermifuge en ordre
• Caractère : affectueux, exclusif (pas d’autre chat), pot de colle et bavard, bref, un vrai siamois ;o)
• Puce électronique, jugement d’exposition, pédigrée et passeport UE (à déclarer si immigration en Suisse) disponibles
• Participation demandée : EUR 150.- pour couvrir les divers frais
• Localisation : Lessines, Belgique (à quelques km de la frontière française)

Coordonnées de Christine :

• Mail : royaumededansun@gmail.com
• Téléphone : +32 68 572383 ou +32 496 530329 entre 10h00 et 17h00

I could paint for a hundred years, a thousand years without stopping and I would still feel as though I knew nothing.

~Paul Cezanne

 Drawing and colour are not separate at all; in so far as you paint, you draw. The more the colour harmonizes, the more exact the drawing becomes.

~Paul Cezanne

 I have posted three videos on the art works of Paul Cezanne with YouTube on the Channel: A PRONK STUDIO VIDEO: http://www.youtube.com/user/raymondpronk

Cezanne  Part 1 of 3

Cezanne Part 2 of 3

Cezanne Part 3 of 3

Now on to writing a two hour screenplay on the impressionists, editing a video of their very best paintings and replacing the music with a narrative.

I hope you enjoyed the vidoes and music.

Thanks for the comments and ratings.

I appreciate your feedback.

Light is a thing that cannot be reproduced, but must be represented by something else – by color.

~Paul Cezanne

The Bridge at Maincy, 1879-1880

Doubtless there are things in nature which have not yet been seen. If an artist discovers them, he opens the way for his successors. If I have left something unsaid, they will say it.

~Paul Cezanne

Background Articles and Videos

The Impressionists BBC (Part 1)

The Impressionists BBC (Part 2)

The Impressionists BBC (Part 3)

Related Posts On Pronk Paintings

Mary Cassatt–Videos

Edgar Degas–Videos

Paul Gauguin–Videos

Winslow Homer–Videos

Edouard Manet–Videos

Claude Monet–Videos

Berthe Morisot–Videos

Camille Pissarro–Videos

Frederick Remington–Videos

Pierre-Auguste Renoir–Videos

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec–Videos

Georges-Pierre Seurat–Videos

Vincent Van Gogh–Videos

Johannes Vermeer–Videos

Art Videos on youtube.com Channel: A PRONK STUDIO VIDEO–Videos

Mas está nos convites, no cabeçalho do blog, na capa do livro…

Tudo em pedaços… Como partes de  espelhos quebrados.

Em respeito aos direitos autorais detidos pelas famílias dos artistas, os quadros que inspiram a personagem Clara tiveram que ficar de fora.

É bem legal. Clara  tem uma visão distorcida da realidade. Como reflexo, apesar de arquiteta, não consegue ver as diferenças entre os estilos de dois pintores de duas fases distintas da história da arte.

Cézanne e Matisse.

Por uma feliz coincidência Matisse está pela primeira vez no Brasil. Não ele, suas obras. Tenho tentado desenvolver  um estudo sobre ele aqui no meu blog.

Clara é induzida a entender sua vida através de dois quadros que têm o mesmo, exatamente o mesmo tema, mas que são absolutamente diferentes. Interessante acompanhá-la.

Olha eles ai:

Cézanne

Matisse

Cuando la fórmula de las grandes exposiciones parece agotada y los museos ven cada vez más mermados sus presupuestos, llega la hora de recurrir al fondo de armario. Rentabilizar las propias colecciones de cada museo. Algo que en los casos del Prado, el Metropolitan de Nueva York o el vienés Albertina, se presenta en este arranque de temporada como un recurso idóneo. Pero no el único. Los museos británicos, con un 40% de su gasto sufragado por el Estado, son de los pocos que se agarran a la vieja fórmula de las exposiciones estrella con un alarde de marketing y publicidad para encontrar ofertas que logren epatar. ¿Una tercera posibilidad? Ampliar las sedes del propio museo, como el Louvre, que está a punto de abrir una franquicia en Abu-Dhabi. La estrategia no es nueva: recuerda a la política de franquicias del Guggenheim.

Miguel Zugaza, director del Museo del Prado, tiene clara su elección: rentabilizar sus propias colecciones. La exposición recién presentada, dedicada a esa joya oculta del barroco que es Juan Bautista Maíno (1581- 1649), es un buen ejemplo. “Creo que el plato fuerte de un museo debe ser su propia colección y las actividades temporales, apoyarse en lo que constituye la base del centro”.

Nicholas Penny, director de la sede londinense de la National Gallery, defensor del conocimiento frente al espectáculo en los centros artísticos, se suma al coro de los que no ven rentable conseguir visitantes a base de extravagancias. Pese a ello, Xavier Bray -conservador jefe de los siglos XVII y XVIII de la National Gallery, que ha creado una verdadera conmoción en la temporada londinense con su exposición de escultura barroca española The sacred made real-, explica que la muestra es producto de la búsqueda de temas que con la sorpresa atraigan al público. “Seguimos las leyes del marketing y la publicidad más agresivos. No podemos permitirnos perder ni un solo visitante”.

¿Tienen que ver la crisis y la reducción de presupuestos en estos planteamientos? Zugaza opina que no. “Las partidas son más limitadas, pero eso no hace que varíe el tipo de exposiciones que queremos para el museo”. Este invierno, el Prado dedicará una muestra a la pintura holandesa en sus colecciones. Se presentará el catálogo razonado acompañado de una selección de los grandes maestros representados en la pinacoteca. “El Prado es un fondo inagotable”, añade Zugaza. “La exposición de Sorolla, la más visitada después de la histórica de Velázquez, no es sino otro ejemplo. Contaba con piezas maestras que pertenecen a este museo y que ahora están en las salas permanentes dedicadas al XIX”.

Acaso ése sea un lujo sólo al alcance de los grandes centros. El Albertina de Viena es uno de esos afortunados. Sus propios fondos andan sobrados de relumbrón. Con 65.000 dibujos y un millón de grabados de todas las épocas, sus colecciones de Durero, Leonardo da Vinci, Miguel Ángel, Manet o Klimt dan para varias temporadas consecutivas de éxito. De momento, el Albertina ha iniciado ésta con Impresionismo en las colecciones del museo. Courbet, Caillebotte, Manet, Monet, Renoir, Cézanne, Pissarro, Signac y Van Gogh son algunos de los autores que componen una exposición deslumbrante.

El panorama cambia al adentrarnos en el más resbaladizo terreno del arte contemporáneo. Vicente Todolí, director de la Tate Modern de Londres, opina que el recurso al “fondo de armario” sólo sirve para los museos de arte antiguo. Y va más allá. Es “el mismo caramelo con otro envoltorio. Vestir la misma colección de otra manera”. Como ejemplo recurre a esas muestras que giran en torno a un tema determinado y que, dice, aburren al espectador más pintado. “Hay fórmulas que ya no se pueden repetir más: ‘la nieve en el impresionismo’ o ‘el sol en el impresionismo’, como hace el Museo de Orsay”, bromea, “Ya no sirven. Hay que buscar conceptos nuevos y muy atractivos”. Tras esa reflexión, quizá sorprenda saber que su gran apuesta para la primavera será Gauguin fabulador.

“La Tate Modern ha reducido la programación porque la esponsorización no existe en estos momentos y con sólo el 40% del presupuesto [aportado por el Estado] no abrimos. Tenemos que conseguir visitantes que vengan y además consuman”, continúa. Y en ese consumo está una de las mayores fuentes de ingresos de la Tate: las tiendas y los puntos de restauración dependen directamente del museo. No funcionan como concesiones a empresas subsidiarias.

¿Qué opina Todolí de los museos que comparten o venden su marca como el Guggenheim o el Louvre? “Nos negamos a las franquicias porque entendemos que es imperialismo cultural. El museo tiene que nacer en un entorno propio, no puede haber colonización. No somos los únicos que nos hemos opuesto. El MOMA [neoyorquino] ha hecho lo mismo. Otra cosa es asesorar, pero los modelos no se exportan”.

Manuel Borja-Villel, director del Reina Sofía, es contrario también a negociar con la marca. “El nuevo paradigma no debe consistir meramente en reducir gastos a la espera de que la tormenta amaine. Tampoco podemos insistir en aquello que no ha funcionado, esto es, la sustitución de la cultura por el espectáculo, la disneyzación de los museos basada en un sistema de franquicias por el que cada museo repite aquello que ya se ha hecho en otro sitio, en el que el espectador se dedica al reconocimiento de marcas o eslóganes y no al conocimiento de territorios desconocidos”.

El responsable del Reina Sofía opina que “es necesario volver a aquello que es esencial en todo museo: a la investigación y a la educación, a que el público se convierta en agente activo, haga suyos y transforme los relatos del museo para que éstos dejen de ser miméticos del mercado y las modas. Es imprescindible que se generen otros modos de colaboración y relación basados en el trabajo en red y no en las franquicias”.

Es evidente que ésa no es la forma en la que los responsables del Louvre ven las cosas. Por un millón de euros, la capital de los Emiratos Árabes contará desde 2012 con una lujosa sucursal del museo parisiense construida por Jean Nouvel. Será todo un parque temático museístico en el que la metrópoli francesa se ocupará de las exposiciones temporales. Contará con un espacio dedicado al arte contemporáneo que, con la marca Guggenheim, construye actualmente Frank Gehry. Los préstamos procedentes de las sedes-madre servirán para que gracias a los petrodólares se dé a conocer el arte antiguo a nuevas audiencias.

A estas alturas, ya queda claro que hay soluciones para todos los gustos. Incluso las basadas en el deseo. Guillermo Solana, responsable artístico del Thyssen desde hace cuatro años, confesó públicamente durante la presentación de Las lágrimas de Eros que la idea de montar esta exposición  le vino a la cabeza hace año y medio, en el momento más bajo de su carrera, al borde de la depresión más absoluta… El erotismo se le apareció como una fórmula mágica de insuflar vida al espacio. Una fórmula tan criticada por algunos como aplaudida por los muchos visitantes que estos días se agolpan en las salas del Thyssen.

Fuente: El País – ÁNGELES GARCÍA - Madrid – 28/10/2009

I’ve not written in a while…. I’ve been too busy with University & migraines etc. I just finished my first 2 Essays on Cleopatra , Cézanne & Zurbáran. Plus the migraines & dizziness aren’t getting any better. Sitting up at the PC makes it worse….so I will be purchasing a laptop in the next week or so. Hopefully that will make it easier. I was sent for a scan last week. They thought that I could have PCOS (polycystic ovaries) but thankfully that came back clear! Had another blood test to rule out diabetes and any hormonal imbalances. I will be so glad to get to the bottom of this dizziness. I could live with the migraine pain, but the dizziness is too much to handle.

Three days ago we had a carbon monoxide scare. Apparently we had a “low level” leak – for how long, I don’t know….. the doctor at the hospital told me that that could be the “root” of all of my dizzy issues…hmmm. Anyway, my daughter and I were on the verge of blacking out and then the carbon alarm went off – at first I didn’t know what it was (It’s NEVER alarmed) by the time we figured out what it was we were both nearly on the floor! Luckily I got the doors open and called the emergency gas people. It was sealed off – we still have no hot water, or heating……. hopefully tomorrow it will be sorted out.

I never had any of these health problems until we moved into this place…..makes you wonder. Anyway, I am off to attempt to do some work. I’ll try and keep posting.

Ya antes DoRe nos había comparido un poco sobre Salvador Dalí y continuando con esa línea de pintores expresionistas, ahora le toca el turno a Pablo Picasso.

Nacido en Málaga en 1881 y fallecido en Francia en 1973, Pablo Picasso, cuyo nombre real y completo era Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruíz Picasso.

Pintó mas de 2mil obras que se conservan en museos de Europa y todo elmundo. Se declaró a sí mismo como pacifista y comunista; fue miembro del Partido Comunista Francés.

El Cubismo nace formalmente en 1908, creado por Picasso y su amigo Barque, teniendo como punto de partida, la pintura de Las Señoritas de Avion. Esta corriente tuvo muchos seguidores muy pronto, al grado tal que fue una técnica enseñada en la escuela de Paul Cézanne, un prolífico pintor francés de la época.

El Cubismo fue un punto de inflexión radical en la historia del arte que inspiró al resto de vanguardias artísticas el abandono del ilusionismo pictórico, rechazando la descripción naturalista en beneficio de composiciones de formas abstraídas de la percepción convencional, jugando con la tridimensionalidad y la estructura de las superficies.

En 1925, Picasso se desvió abruptamente de sus pinturas cubistas anteriores, pues en cuadros como Mujer en Sillón y Bañista Sentada, se aprecian trazos violentos, mostrando criaturas deformes, convulsivas y con una rabia histérica muy evidente, a demás de que mostraban una clara tendencia surrealista en la cual, Picasso se había dejado llevar.

Pablo Picasso pintó siempre que pudo y a demás, lo hizo siempre con mucha calidad, todos los días hasta su muerte.

A diferencia de la música, no hay niños prodigios en la pintura. Lo que la gente percibe como genio prematuro es el genio de la infancia. No desaparece gradualmente a medida que envejece. Es posible que ese niño se convierta en un verdadero pintor un día, quizás incluso un gran pintor. Pero tendría que empezar desde el principio. Por lo tanto, por lo que a mí respecta, yo no era un genio. Mis primeros dibujos nunca se han mostrado en una exposición de dibujos infantiles. Me faltaba la torpeza de un niño, su ingenuidad. He hecho dibujos académicos a la edad de siete años, con una precisión de la que me asusto.

Picasso.

Degas is repulsive.

- The New York Times, 1886

Gauguin is… a decorator tainted with insanity.

- Harpers Weekly, 1913

You scarsely know if you are looking at a parcel of nude flesh or a bundle of laundry.

- on Manets “Venus et le chat” in Le Figaro, 1863

Matisse is an unmitigated bore..surely the vogue of those twisted and contorted human figures… must be as short as it is artificial.

- Chicago Tribune 1913

it is the work of a madman.

- Ambroise Vollard, commenting on “Demoiselles d’Avignon” 1907

No intellegence can accept such aberrations.

- Le Figero art critic on Camille Pissarro, 1876

He (Renoir) has no talent at all, that boy…tell him please to give up painting.

- Edouard Manet on Renoir, 1864

Why should Titian and the Venetians be named on a discourse on art? Such idiots are not artists.

- William Blake, 1807

Certainly no man or woman of normal mental health would be attracted by the sadistic, obsene deformations of Cezanne, Modigliani, Matisse, Gauguin and the other Fauves.

- John Hemming Fry, The revolt against beauty,1934

Rembrandt is not to be compared in the painting of character with our extraordinarily gifted Engish artist, Mr. Rippingille.

- John Hunt (British art critic),1780

The Experts Speak, 1984, Villard Books, New York

Nonostante un riccio protettivo ricco di spine, la castagna è un frutto dolcissimo, tutto da gustare. Come nei ravioli di castagna con ragu di zucca del menu del 24/10 del Cafè Mash, in occasione di Stasera cucino io! con… Guido Catalano.

La castagna è un frutto particolare, ricco d’amido come i cereali, usato spesso per preparare farine (utili per i nostri ravioli!). Con la castagna si producono prelibatezze come le marmellate, la polenta, il miele di castagno, il Castagnaccio o i marron glacé, ma anche le comuni caldarroste si difendono benissimo! Le castagne sono tipicamente autunnali e si distinguono in castagne propriamente dette, e marroni. Le prime sono le figlie del castagno selvatico e possono avere sapore e dimensioni differenti; i marroni invece sono i figli dell’alberto coltivato e si è più “sicuri” sul loro sapore. Esistono numerose varietà: la Montemarano, la castagna della Madonna e il marroncino di Melfi.

L’albero dal quale cresce la castagna, è forse originario del Maro Nero, ed era certamente noto ai soliti greci e romani. Alcuni studi recenti, però, fanno risalire i natali del castagno fino alle epoche preistoriche. Questa pianta continuò a diffondersi in tutta Europa per merito dei monaci: era molto amata, sia per i frutti che per il prezioso legname, compatto, resistente all’umidità e alla decomposizione, perché ricco di tannini, e quindi utile nelle costruzioni strutturali. Questo amore durò fino all’ampliamento delle colture di cereali, che soppiantarono il castagno, sulla tavola, dal Rinascimento fino a tutto l’Ottocento. Anche il legname vide una battuta d’arresto, a causa dell’industrializzazione e dell’introduzione di nuovi materiali, come metallo e plastica.

Le origini antichissime del castagno hanno prodotto piante monumentali e centenarie, come a La Salle (Valle d’Aosta, 400 anni), a Sant’Alfio (Sicilia, 22 metri di altezza per 22 di diamentro, 2000 anni di età!) e a Melle (Piemonte, 300 anni).

Il castagno non è solo un albero nobile che dà legno e frutti, ma anche un tema tutto da leggere e guardare: poeti, scrittori e pittori infatti lo hanno citato in poemi, narrativa e quadri. Geni del calibro di Boccaccio, Nievo, Parini, Pascoli, Carducci, Deledda e Calvino, solo per citarne alcuni. All’estero, tracce di castagno si trovano in Sartre, Orwell, Hesse. Lo possiamo ammirare nelle opere di Arcimboldo, Cézanne e Sisley.