La carta è la riproduzione de I Maestri del colore del celebre quadro “La lettrice” del pittore francese Jean-Honoré Fragonard (Grasse 1732 – Parigi 1806), importante esponente del rococò.
A chi apprezza lo stile barocco e rococò consiglio una visita al sito Baroque

Lunghezza collana 143 cm

Damien Hirst, Requiem, White Flowers and Butterflies, 2008

If Damien Hirst ever produces a painting that comes anywhere close to resembling a Rembrandt I will eat my shoe. The fact that he would even suggest that “anyone can be like Rembrandt” illustrates just how ludicrous he is. I have been taking life drawing classes for a few weeks and my teacher said something in the first class which struck a cord. He said “When we pick up a musical instrument and play for the first time we don’t expect a full sonata to come out. We have to practice at it. So why to we expect to be able to draw something perfectly on the first attempt?” He’s so right. We have to work at it. And I have always been a great believer that we can all improve at something with a little effort, whether playing piano, dancing, cooking, doing maths or drawing. But some of us will simply become better or even good whilst others will become great. The works displayed in Hirst’s most recent exhibition at the Wallace Collection suggest that unfortunately he falls into the former category. They were only okay.

All the familiar identifiers of Hirst’s oeuvre were referred to in the paintings – a menagerie of sharks, skulls and butterflies, with references to mortality (both his and ours), all superimposed on a grid of white spots and often featuring the spidery white lines one might see in a work by Francis Bacon, one of Hirst’s heroes. The works are flat, repetitive and unimaginative. There were one or two I could bear to have on my wall. One, a single lonesome skill, whose bald head shone iridescently off the dark blue background from different viewpoints. The other, a large canvas bursting with white roses and butterflies (painted rather than squashed). The works are of course all blue in a very contrived homage to Picasso. It’s like D.H. is some child in the artists’ playground, jumping and screaming “I want a blue-period too. I want something for people to remember me by.” Don’t worry Damien. We will all remember you.

I don’t respect Damien for his personality or for his talent (or lack thereof), but to his credit, if there is one thing he is great at doing it’s getting attention. And as for the bad reviews, he shares Andy Warhol’s opinion on the matter: “weigh them, don’t read them.”

Frans Hals, The Laughing Cavalier, 1624

They just don’t make them like they used to. For me, the best part of No Love Lost was that I got to visit my old favourites at the Wallace Collection again (in fact, visiting figures have doubled since Hirst’s show opened). Fragonard’s dreamy girl on The Swing, André Charles Boulle’s impressive marquetry and Joshua Reynolds’ intimate portraits. And, as Brian Sewell said in his review, he has finally discovered what Frans Hals’ iconic Laughing Cavalier is laughing at. It’s Damien Hirst.

No Love Lost, Blue Paintings by Damien Hirst is on at the Wallace Collection until 24 January. Admission free. 

Zilele trecute aruncam un ochi printre picturile din perioada rococoului ce apar pe Word Gallery of Art, un excelent site ce aduna mai toate picturile importante pana la 1800. Am ramas uimit sa vad de cat de des se repeta tema leaganului, simbol ce transmite bucurie, copilarie si multa dinamica.

Pierre-Jacques Cazes – The Swing (1732), ulei pe panza, 97 x 88 cm

Jean-Honoré Fragonard – The Swing (1750-1755), ulei pe panza, 120 x 95 cm

Jean-Honoré Fragonard – The Swing (1767), ulei pe panza, 81 x 64 cm

Nicolas Lancret – The Swing (aproximativ 1735), ulei pe panza, 70 x 89 cm

Hubert Robert – Avenue in a Park (1799), ulei pe panza, 59 x 39 cm

Giuseppe Zais – The Swing (1765-70), ulei pe panza, 53 x 39 cm

La polul opus gasim leaganul ca posibilul mobil al unui joc periculos

Francisco de Goya – Old Man on a Swing (1824-28), creta neagra, 190 x 151 mm

Giovanni Domenico Tiepolo – The Swing of Pulcinella (1791-93), fresca, 200 x 170 cm

Our English language is filled with words from French origins.  In part, we can thank the Duke of Normandy for this, as the French spoken in the Middle Ages (a direct offshoot of Latin) was incorporated into English after the Norman Conquest in 1066.  Modern French uses the same 26 letter alphabet as English (both based on Latin), but the vowel combinations and pronunciations are quite different than English. 

 
Take for example the word “quimper”.  In English, it looks like you would pronounce this “KWIM per”, rhymes with “whimper”.  NOT SO!  In the Merriam-Webster’s 3^rd New International Unabridged Dictionary (official source for U.S. Spelling Bees), the pronunciation is “kahn PAIR” with accent on 2^nd syllable (sounds like “compare”).  Of course, if you’re familiar with France, you know Quimper is a town in the Brittany region of France, and “quimper” is the adjective used to describe the pottery from this region. 

 Because of the tricky pronunciations, French words that have made their way into English are favorite list words in U.S. Spelling Bee Competition.  Upwards of 40% of the words used in Scripps’ National Spelling Bee competition have French origins. But with study and practice, many French spelling patterns are consistent, and not too difficult to master.

My daughter is a spelling whiz, and participated in the Scripps’ National Spelling Bee in 2007 and 2008.  We credit much of her success to her knowledge of French, both from spelling study, and from being immersed in the language, through numerous trips through France. 

Even though she never studied French formally until high school in 2009, her familiarity of common words in French came in very handy when competing.  When riding in an elevator in France, you notice the word “etage” for “floor” or “level”.  Well, the word “étagère” a spelling list word for the open shelf display cabinet, is directly from “etage” root word. 

 Many of the words she was asked to spell in the final rounds of national competition came directly from French:  redoppe, Huguenot, boulangere (method of cooking with sliced onions in a casserole).  Coincidentally, I have this photo of her taken the year before the Bee, standing next door to the “boulanger” which is from the same root word.

The word “Eclat” was also featured in the 2008 Spelling Bee, which means “brilliant”, “dazzling”.  Coincidentally (again), Eclat is the name of the French perfume she wears from famous French perfumery Fragonard.  She found this fragrance on a family trip where we visited the Fragonard perfume factory in Eze, France.  So she was well familiar with this word! 

So you see, in addition to art treasures, history, cinema,  gourmet cuisine, wine, champagne, cheese, pastries, tourism, literature, architectural wonders, french perfume, fashion, and pomme frites — we have yet another reason to love France and the French!  Spelling Bees!  Vive la France!

Slept in today – drawing class – avoid shading. Still, still life. Also from this week – Fragonard the vet – related (brother? to Fragonard, the well-known painter) who made sculptures out of once living tissue. And we think we’re morbid in these modern times. Jesse Helms would have disapproved, no NEA funding for you mister Fragonard, or is that Monsieur?
Back to today.
Objects and Souvenirs opening – one word – disaster.

They say you come to resemble those you associate with. That means I am soon going to resemble myself.

Cold and sparse.

Fragonard was a French painter of the late Rococo; his work was exuberant, lush, and erotic. He is best known for The Swing.

This toile shower curtain, with its dusky rose pastoral scenes printed on a white cotton trimmed with a satiny ribbon, will bring a touch of Gallic beauty to your life. $26.99 @ target.com.

(When I’m done with this in the bathroom, I’m getting it made into a dress. Just saying.)

The second comission by sprezzatura, a hospital theme just like the last one but this time in conjunction with another eighteenth century artist, Fragonard – my own suggestion.

As with the last 0ne: If you like the image and would really like to be notified if it becomes available as a print ( there’s been talk of it) just mail me at techteur@gmail.com and i’ll save your adress and notify you.

I’m currently teaching ‘objective painting’ to groups of about 32 first year Scottish art college students. Each week, over a three week period, I have a different group and they work in the studio with me Monday through to Wednesday and on Friday of each week … It’s the start of week three … The first group returns in two weeks time and we’ll do something with sculpture and installation practices, and I’ll go through a similar cycle. It’s intensive and fun and exhausting and there’s a lot of good energy, but it can be hot and clammy in the studio.

The Musée de La Parfumerie Fragonard (39 blvd des Capucines) is housed in a former Art Deco theatre in Paris—it’s one of my favourite museums. Last year, in Dundee, I happened upon an enjoyable lunchtime activity: I began visiting the cosmetic area at Debenhams in order to “freshen up” using the different brands of eau de parfum in the shops range of free testers. On one occasion, carried away by the heady sweetness and my love for these expensive nectars, I overdid it and became for a time an indescribable and embarrassed pall of contemporary perfumery … (a stocky ape) stinking like the perfumer’s equivalent of a muddy palette, and wishing I could go home.

I now however have occasion to pursue this activity quite purposefully whenever the fancy takes me—in the name of art and poetry, and the scholastic search for truth in performance—before taking a little ramble through the town centre. Writing this from a table in Caffé Ritazza in the bustling lounge of Exeter Airport I’m smelling pretty nice—if intensely—of the combined fragrance of ‘Alien’ and ‘A (star) Men’, courtesy of the World Duty Free shop.

Qual è il segreto del profumo perfetto? E può questo veramente far innamorare e cadere ai piedi di chi lo possiede l’umanità intera come si raccontava nel bellissimo libro Il Profumo di Süskid? Con tutte queste speranze olfattive, mia madre ed io ci siamo messe in viaggio verso Grasse, la patria dei profumi che si trova nell’interno della Provenza, tra montagne e paesini arroccati sui cucuzzoli.

Arrivare nell’interno, in mezzo al verde delle montagne, è rilassante dopo la strada della Costa Azzurra ed il passaggio attraverso Nizza e Montecarlo con la loro sfacciata dimostrazione di onnipotenza. Qui si respira un’aria più tranquilla e ben presto, anche più profumata! A Grasse ci sono le fabbriche di due dei più grandi profumieri al mondo: Molinard e Fragonard e ci sono ovunque fuori città, campi di coltivazione di ogni tipo di fiore.

Tutto qui gira intorno alla profumeria e così anche il nostro viaggio. Andiamo a fare una lezione per profumieri.

Abbiamo visitato la fabbrica di Molinard, ci hanno raccontato i metodi di produzione e la storia di questa antica famiglia e infine, ad un enorme tavolo ovale coperto di essenze, siamo affogate nei profumi.

©Samara Croci

Era la parte pratica del corso dedicata a produrre il proprio profumo. A disposizione: 80 essenze, decine di fettuccine da intingere nei profumi per annusare, pippette misuratrici, bottigliette e purtroppo un solo naso. A pochi minuti dall’inizio dell’impresa, i nostri nasi erano già saturi di odori e i nostri cervelli ubriachi di profumi ed essenze. La formula della piramide olfattiva sembra semplice: 3 essenze di testa (le prime che si apprezzano annusando un profumo ma anche le più volatili), 3 essenze di cuore e 3 di fondo (il cuore del profumo, il suo carattere più intimo e quello che rimane passato un po’ di tempo). La messa in atto di questa formula è tutt’altro che semplice. Indovinare come starà un’essenza con un’altra sembra un’impresa e capire qualcosa nel bouquet di odori prescelto è un’illusone. Alla fine, decisi i componenti e quasi sfinite dall’ampolla profumata dove siamo cadute, ci mettiamo con le pippette a misurare i millilitri e a formare quel mostro di profumo che dovrà rappresentarci e che ha il grave compito di concentrare in sé le 9 essenze che più ci sono piaciute tra le 80 che abbiamo annusato!

Le jeux son fè! Usciamo da Molinard avvolte da una sorta di nube atomica profumata. Chi ci passa vicino, quasi sviene ma più che per la potenza del fascino dei profumi di nostra creazione, è per la tormenta di essenze che ci avvolge.  Non contente dei nostri profumi, per lo meno io (che sono uscita di li con una boccetta di diserbante!), ci infiliamo nel negozio ufficiale di Molinard dove spendiamo il ristretto spazio di pelle delle nostre braccia per provare i profumi, questa volta deliziosi, creati dai profumieri. Io non mi lascio sfuggire uno alla cioccolata (Fleur de Chocolat) che sono sicura, avrà il tanto atteso effetto di cui parlava Süskid alla fine del suo libro! Poi mi lancio su quello che è stato il primo profumo a base di essenze orientali creato per donna (prima pare fossero essenze dedicate agli uomini). Divino! Una nube di Lawrence d’Arabia da poter mettere ogni mattina sul collo per essere avvolti dalle sabbie sahariane. Sono sicura che se ad un colloquio mettessi Fleur de Chocolat mescolato con le spezie di Habanita, non avrei rivali!

©Samara Croci

Ovviamente la nostra gita continua con una lezione di cucina a base di rosa a cui ci dedichiamo fin dal mattino presto, subito dopo una meravigliosa colazione con marmellate ai frutti e fiori. Il menù? Antipasto di foie gras con acqua di rose e chantillì, poi gamberoni con verdure croccanti in aceto di rose, servito con riso bianco con petali di rose canine rosse. Infine salmone in salsina di rose fatto con confettura di rose, acqua di rose ed aceto di rose. Divino!

©Samara Croci

Un ultima incombenza floreale ci aspetta nei campi di fiori dove al tramonto o all’alba i raccoglitori colgono fior da fiore per l’industria della profumeria. Alla fine stremate ci rifugiamo nella magica terrazza del ristorante con stella Michelin, appena fuori Grasse. Anche qui, il menù ci riserva sorprese floreali e culinari cha danno luogo ad esplosioni di gusto orgasmiche date da combinazioni di cibi che non sappiamo spiegarci ne cerchiamo di comprendere. Nella collina di fronte a noi, Grasse illuminata di notte e dietro di noi, frondosi alberi bassi dai tronchi tracagnotti e poderosi che ci sovrastano. Attorno il profumo della notte carica si essenze.

Il giorno successivo lo dedichiamo alla disintossicazione, andiamo a Gourdon e percorriamo una gola nella montagna fino a riprendere la strada che ridiscende a Tourette Sur-Loup e poi a Vence e Saint Paul. La zona è disseminata di città murate arroccate sui picchi come dei presepi. Gli odori ci inseguono ma ora sono i panorami naturali a farla da padroni.

Un viaggio bellissimo per essere stati solo 4 giorni, intenso sotto tutti i punti di vista e tutti i sensi!

Ora ogni volta che metto uno dei miei profumi penso a quei quattro giorni così unici e divertenti e penso all’olfatto, un senso che non usiamo pienamente ma che può dare così tante piccole soddisfazioni e farci viaggiare in luoghi immaginari meravigliosi!

Samara Croci

Divine Intervention

Chinoiserie.

Epitome of the Chinois ideal

Harpers Bazaar February 2002 by Patrick Demarchelier

Nonchaloir

I think I am seeing a pattern here. 

Idyllic Setting

Perhaps a life of beauty and leisure is what I truly crave.   I think that we all wish for that life to some degree or another.  Not neccessarily a lazy life – but one of grace and beautiful moments.

Luckily for me I get to work in a world of beauty and translate my cravings into gorgeous interiors, that other people get to enjoy and take their leisure in.  I suppose there is a nice symmetry to that.

不要以爲香水公司就只會調香水，他們時常也會出些周邊產品來吸引顧客。
最近在一位絲巾收藏者的網站看到好些香水公司出的絲巾，想到每款設計背後隱藏的香味便覺得有一番特別的樂趣。

Cacharel為Anaïs Anaïs和Eden都出過絲巾，前者是與香水瓶設計呼應的白地紅花，後者是一片綠意盎然。

Christian Dior的Poison絲巾就像香水本身一樣後現代化，大大咧咧的綫條勾畫出一個瓶子。

如果不看介紹很難猜出以下兩塊絲巾與香水有關，Elizabeth Arden公司還真低調。打開紅門的鑰匙很有創意，而太陽花則讓人聯想到童年的歡樂。

Escada的絲印讓人一眼就認出它家的瓶子，可惜色彩選擇與它清淡的味道有些不匹配。

Fragonard雖然如今已經不太出名但也出過絲巾，設計上比較中槼中極。

Guerlain就連在絲巾設計上也保持自己一貫的華麗風格。第一塊上的香水們實在美麗，如果哪天能把上面出現的每一瓶都收集齊人生就完美了！第二塊上畫的是新版Champs-Élysées，即現代又古典。

Hermès是這些公司中唯一一家絲巾比香水出名的。這款由Catherine Baschet設計的Flacons絲巾已經以很多不同顔色搭配出現過了，很明顯以瓶爾非水為主題。裏面出現的香水瓶大多都古色古香，但也偷偷放進去了幾瓶自家出品的香水。

浪漫的橙黃色花朵是Lancôme獻給Trésor的絲巾。

不知道Rochas公司怎麽想到這樣來表達Byzantine，浸在花海中的拜占庭哪兒去了？

Sources: Scarf Collector, Hermès

Aunque una de las conclusiones lógicas del capitalismo es el canibalismo, lo que más o menos vendría a significar que llegado un momento nos vamos a acabar comiendo los unos a otros como si fuéramos animales de rapiña, aunque, como decía, ese sea el fin natural del sistema económico en que vivimos resulta difícil plantearlo en términos tan crudos, porque caramba, todos tenemos nuestro corazoncito.  Por ponerte un ejemplo, cuando vemos una de esas fotos de negritos con moscas en la boca, pues oye, quien más y quien menos se pone sentimental, y empieza a pensar en cómo pulir las aristas del sistema: que si dando un % del PIB, que si… Menos  mal que para acallar esa voz en off que es el sentido común, el capitalismo no sólo produce cosas brillantes, sino también imágenes brillantes. Imágenes que tienen una función precisa y práctica en ese proceso trófico que es acabar con el otro (o “merendarse a la otredad” dicho en fino): para que nos comamos los unos a los otros de facto, es preciso haberlo hecho antes iconográficamente, principalmente para reducir las previsibles arcadas. Lo que vengo a decir es que ya llevamos mucho tiempo haciendo boca, devorando a personas a través de la imagen, y que eso está creando un estado de emergencia previo al holocausto. “Estado de emergencia” es además el título de un famoso reportaje de Steven Meisel (Septiembre-2006-Vogue Italia) quien como experto en la fotografía del porno-terror ha cultivado un nombre propio dentro de la categoría de “fotógrafos de comida humana”; o dicho de otra manera Miesel es uno de los fotógrafos de moda más importantes de la actualidad.

Sin embargo, decir que las imágenes por las que hoy paseamos nuestros ojos son simplemente “perversas”, chicas, no nos lleva a ningún lado. Salvo a adoptar los típicos tics de las izquierdas europeas con la cultura pop: pereza y moralismo. A mí, que quede claro, estas fotos también me parecen repugnantes por imperialistas, sexistas, inhumanas y por una largo etceterá pero al mismo tiempo me parecen fascinantes. Y creo que es mucho más interesante descifrar ese aspecto fascinante, que convertir esto en una muestra de indignación y chasquear de bocas. Principalmente porque las fotos no están tomadas por un arribista que quiere abrirse camino en el mundo de la fotografía sino por un experto en la producción y comercio de imágenes. Ya que Steven Meisel, nacido en 1954, saltó a la fama con las fotos del libro Sex de Madonna y actualmente es apadrinado, nada más y nada menos, que por dos mujeres-travestís de la talla de Franca Sozzani y Anna Wintour, editoras jefa de las versiones italianas e inglesas de la Vogue. Se le califica como un maestro y un “técnico brillante del glamour” y aquí está su extensa obra en el mundo de la moda para demostrarlo. Sin embargo, un día, el fascinante Steven Mielsel decidió apartar su vista de esa esfera virtual que es la Alta Costura y sus anoréxicas cocainómanas, y ver el mundo que tenía a su alrededor (en el que vivimos las personas reales). Esta es la historia de lo que vio, como lo reflejó, y como intentó sacar provecho de él.

Ese contacto con el mundo, como decía, dio como resultado unas imágenes asquerosas y fascinantes, unas fotos de las que es imposible apartar las mirar a pesar de que la sangre nos hierva a 100 grados. Pero, ¿por qué son tan subyugantes, por qué parecen imágenes de una pesadilla de la que uno no se quisiera despertar?. La razón de esa seducción la podemos encontrar en la esencia de la fotografía de moda, que es, según Olivier Zahm, vampírica y pornográfica. Este famoso crítico de arte y de moda expuso en el artículo On the market change in fashion photography (se puede encontrar aqui) que “La fotografía de moda es un icono híbrido del presente, una imagen compuesta de todas las otras imágenes posibles, al mismo tiempo amnésica e invasiva (…). Por lo tanto la imagen de moda está mejor adaptada que cualquier otra para capturar o revelar su tiempo (…). La fotografía de moda es un vampirismo de la representación, o una representación en su forma vampírica. Es esencialmente impura y una forma híbrida de comunicación que asimila, integra y fusiona todos los posibles territorios de referencia, secuestrando, reciclando y absorbiendo implacablemente sus signos característicos en una manera no diferente al “sampling” en la música electrónica”. Al ser un arte cambiante que asimila todas las formas pasadas y presentes de representación, desde el retrato rococó hasta la fotografía de prensa o de denuncia, la fotografía de moda, verdaderamente, está llamado a ser el “arte de nuestro tiempo”. Al ser por excelencia el arte que muestra cuales son las preocupaciones, intereses y sentidos de nuestro tiempo resulta un poco idiota negarlo categóricamente. Decir “la fotografía de moda es una mierda”  es como decir “menuda mierda el Partenón” en tiempo de Pericles. Pensemos, por ejemplo, en otra obra de Steven Meisel una que copia, roba o samplea la fotografía de uno de nuestros fotógrafos favoritos Kohei Yoshiyuki, aquellas fotos de mirones y sexo en el parque de las que hablamos en un post anterior

Resulta bastante molón pensar que Miesel utiliza a Kohei Yoshiyuki como en otras ocasiones utiliza la obra del pintor Fragonard y su famoso cuadro del columpio. Es decir, es bastante guay pensar que todo arte vale igual y que vivimos en una constante coctelera cultural. Que todas las imágenes se equivalen y que podemos jugar con ellas en collages, fotos, cuadros… pero, y paren orejas amigas, esta es una gran pregunta: ¿realmente todas las imágenes tienen el mismo valor?. Es decir, ¿podemos jugar con la obra de un fotógrafo o pintor de la misma manera que lo hacemos con una fotografía de prensa que muestra sufrimiento humano?. O dicho de otra manera, ¿por qué es intelectualmente aceptable que Fernando Botero rehaga las imágenes del centro de tortura de Abu Ghraib y en cambio no lo es que lo haga Meisel. ¿¿¿¡¡¡Joooo, mamá por qué yo no puedo jugaaar!!!???. Aquí entra en juego el segundo elemento que comentábamos antes, el pornográfico. Según Olivier Zahm la fotografía de moda ha aprendido de la pornografía a “ritualizar el deseo sexual, a convertir en fetiche la relación con el cuerpo, y a convertir estéticamente el acto sexual en un imposible intercambio de tipo prostitucional”. Es decir, a parte del obvio interés por vender cosas (“La imagen de moda es sobre todo una imagen comisionada (…) hasta la mejor imagen de moda es industria al servicio de la industria. Es una industria de la imagen al servicio de una industria especializada como el pret-a-porter, los accesorios y los cosméticos“), a parte de ese interé mercantil la fotografía de moda vende sexo y cuerpos en un sentido pornográfico. Y cuando se junta la venta de objetos y sexo pornográfico con la denuncia social, saltan chispas.

O saltan chispas o nos encontramos metidos en un libro de Ballard (el escritor de Crash), porque Miesel hace porno-terror de primera calidad tal como lo definió ese autor y tal como lo recoge este blog . Si quieren ver un producto ballardiano, háganme caso, cómprense la Vogue Italia que une el fascismo duro de la moda con el fascismo blando de Berlusconi (o al revés), allí podrán ver la pesadilla de “la violencia convertida en un deporte de consumo para espectadores”. Pero la violencia no es sólo es un espectáculo deportivo sino sexual. Porque uno de los elementos más atrayentes y revulsivos de estas fotos es el aspecto sexual, y sobre ese aspecto pone el acento la escritora y profesora de historia  Joanna Bourke en este artículo de The Guardian: “El personal de seguridad fuertemente armado exuda violencia; la modelo rezuma sexo. En aeropuertos  o en mugrientas calles de ciudad, la modelo es representada con sus piernas separadas mientras los hombres uniformados con pistolas fálicas y con porras exploran formas de abusar de ella y torturarla. En otras fotografías la modelo se convierte en el agresor.” Si llegado este momento del artículo, ustedes ya han perdido el Norte, comparemos las fotos de Meisel con otras de represiones reales, poco glamourosas y nada sexuales y descubramos las diferencias

Abuso policial, fotografía de Carles Rivas para El País 18-03-2009

Mientras, Bourke continua con su artículo: “Esta es fotografía de moda adecuada a los intereses de las políticas de tortura y abuso. Uniendo la Alta Costura con la llamada “Guerra al terror” las fotografías hacen algo más que simplemente proporcionar emociones baratas a los lectores a través de una transgresión estética. Las fotografías portan los propios tabús que violan. Existe una satisfacción vicaria en ver estas descripciones de crueldad a favor de los intereses de la seguridad nacional. No es una coincidencia que se muestre a las fuerzas de seguridad protegiéndonos de una persona que no es un hombre y que no es obviamente musulmán. En vez de eso, la amenaza terrorista es una mujer irreal. En contraste con el personal de seguridad descrito, ella está más allá del reino de lo humano. Su piel es de plástico, como la de un maniquí; su cuerpo es demasiado perfecto, incluso cuando retuerce de dolor”. A partir de ahí llega a un punto clave: “El elemento más perturbador de estas fotografías, es que se han inspirado en las fotografías de tortura tomadas en la prisión de Abu Ghraib y en cualquier parte de Iraq (…) En estas fotos de moda vemos como la tortura ha sido transformada en productos de consumo. La tortura no sólo se ha normalizado, sino que ha sido integrada en una de las formas más glamurosas de la cultura de consumo – la Alta Costura. En nuestro estado moral de emergencia, la imaginería de tortura se ha convertido en moda”.

Estas fotos se completan con otro reportaje de Meisel (es que este hombre es una joya) donde con el (des)propósito de difundir un mensaje supuestamente pacifista, no en vano el reportaje se llama, “Make love not war”, Miesel retrata de una manera muy glamurosa los rigores del ejército americano. Hay mucha posturita, mucho tatoo, mucha tontería y mucha inconsciencia por parte del fotógrafo ya que tras las víctimas civiles, el propio ejército americano ha sido, siempre, el segundo grupo de personas en subir al matadero. A  “nuestros chicos” se les sometió a las primeras radiaciones en las distintas pruebas de la bomba de hidrógeno, se les roció en Vietnam con el agente naranja, en el Golfo estuvieron en contacto con uranio empobrecido… Con estas fotos, además no sólo se ritualiza y se embellece a los torturados sino también a los torturadores. En el no-mundo de Miesel todo es bello, la tortura, los peinados, la guerra, los espléndidos conjuntos, la invasión. Todo es juvenil, atrevido y picante…

[Pasatiempos: En la siguiente colección de fotografías se nos ha "colado" una foto que no es de Steve Meisel, adivina cúal, y gana fantásticos premios...]

De entre todas las fotos, y por comentar algo casi al azar, la siguiente aparece como la más obscena: una modelo débil y desamparada casi en la desnudez se asimila con el mapa de África que tiene al fondo, ambos necesitan ayuda y protección de un hombre joven, robusto y fuerte, Estados Unidos. De esta clara actualización de la propaganda Imperialista (el Tercer Mundo como semi-animales o débiles), se puede decir que es una crítica de Miesel a nuestros prejuicios o que es una broma, pero si así fuera,  todos nos preguntamos: ¿tiene puta gracia?.

Junto a toda esta sana indignación, encontré en el mismo blog sobre Ballard una opinión sobre  “Estado de emergencia”  que me sorprendió: “Uhmmm, en realidad, bastante anodino. Tan sólo se parece a una foto de moda. Lo que hace que uno se pregunte si las fotos de moda se parecen cada vez más a las imágenes de atrocidades, o si es al revés. ¿Es esto el efecto de la muerte de la realidad, cuando en realidad todo es jodidamente aburrido?”. Con esa afirmación no meteríamos en el terreno del Situacionismo y la suciedad_del_espectáculo: que si la muerte de la realidad, que si todo es una representación, que si no podemos ya experimentar nada porque todo se ha convertido en imágenes, que si  la fotografía de moda “participa en la extensión de lo que Guy Debord llama espectáculo integrado, que es otra manera de decir que participa en el desarrollo del aspecto inmaterial del capitalismo” (según  Olivier Zahm)… En fin, unas teorías complicadísimas que tardaríamos una eternidad en entender y después explicar, por lo que vamos a atajar por lo práctico. Lo de la Sociedad del Espectáculo se lo voy  a explicar yo en dos patadas y con sólo mirar la fantástica foto de bajo que hace unos meses me descubrió mi amiga Aurea (gracias). Mírenla detenidamente y piensen en ella

Pues sí, ganadora del premio World Photo Press de 2006, esta fotografía  de Spenser Platt saltó a las primeras páginas de la prensa para ilustrar los bombardeos del Líbano. Viendo la escena que en ella se representa todo los textos que acompañaban a la foto iban en el mismo sentido: la deshumanización, el espectáculo de la guerra, aquellas personas guapas y modernas en un descapotable retratando las atrocidades del bombardeo, qué eran, ¿turistas?…porque no parecían pertenecer a la raza humana… Este equívoco se mantuvo hasta que Platt escribió a los principales periódicos señalando que no, que eran víctimas.  Que una de las chicas del coche buscaba a su familia, mientras que la otra retrataba con el móvil la casa destruida en la que habían vivido (quizás para luego comprobar que lo que había visto era real). En serio, ¿victimas?… quiero decir, están buenas. La rubita de primer plano tiene un buen polvo. Quiero decir, las víctimas son siempre unas viejas con pañuelo en la cabeza y dientes de oro, gente pobre, que vive lejos y muy probablemente ignorante… y las de las fotos, ¡¡madre mía, que jacas!!!. En fin, así están las cosas: no podemos sentir empatía por las victimas porque no podemos concebir a las víctimas como tías buenas. Hemos hecho el camino contrario al de Miesel, hemos transformado el fotoperiodismo en fotografía de moda. No si al final va a tener razón, el hombre…

Retrato de jovem, ou O estudo, 1769

Jean-Honoré Fragonard  (França, 1732-1806)

Óleo sobre tela, 82 x 66 cm

Museu do Louvre, Paris

—

Jean-Honoré Fragonard,  (França, 1732-1806),  estudou com François Boucher, que o ajudou a desenvolver o estilo predileto da corte francesa.   Infelizmente com a Revolução Francesa de 1789, Fragonard perdeu toda sua clientela, toda a nobreza que o apoiava.  Juntou todos os seus quadros, saiu de Paris, e voltou para Grasse, sua terra natal, onde foi recebido com carinho.  Aos poucos desenvolveu uma clientela mais modesta mas patriótica.  Passou para a história mais conhecido por suas cenas românticas, cenas frívolas e felizes, representantes do gosto da corte no século XVIII na França, também chamado de período Rococó.  Fragonard foi um excelente pintor, preso numa época de grandes reviravoltas políticas.

Yinka Shonibare MBE: Where Art meets Post-Colonial African Artifice

“I am very interested in using the idea of something which is visually very beautiful because I think that I want my audience to engage with my work even though I am actually tackling quite serious issues…” Yinka Shonibare

Yinka Shonibare, the artist, in a portrait in Diary of a Victorian Dandy 14:00 Hours

Yinka Shonibare as the protagonist in The Picture of Dorian Grey series

Born in London, England and raised in Lagos, Nigeria, contemporary, multi-talented installation artist, Yinka Shonibare MBE, likes to refer to himself as a bi-cultural, post colonial hybrid. As an artist who is acutely aware of the two distinct cultures he inhabits; one Western, the other African, it is not surprising that Shonibare’s creative endeavors, whether sculpture, painting, photography, film or installation art, straddle both worlds.

“All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.” James Baldwin

The Swing

The Pursuit

Yinka Shonibare often brings an exaggerated, tongue-in-cheek sensibility to his installations even when the topics he addresses are serious. His use of Victorian themes, African inspired fabrics originally made for Indonesia by way of the Netherlands, and his use of highly stylized images in scenes, often variations of work from other artists, such as Fragonard’s “Swing” and Gainsborough’s portraits, all showcase Shonibare’s determination to juxtapose the obvious with the ambiguous.

“All that I desire to point out is the general principle that Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life.” Oscar Wilde

How to Blow Up Two Heads at Once ~ Female

Piles of Ankara Dutch wax cloth ~ Extremely popular on the African Continent.

As a young art student in the mid 1980s in London, Shonibare recalls how an art teacher challenged him to seek an authentic African voice in his artistic work. This comment led him to the Brixton markets where he bought batik fabrics (Ankara, kente fabrics) favored by women and men in West Africa. Shonibare understood the popularity of these fabrics in his native Nigeria; especially for women’s social groups. Members of these groups often spent enormous amounts of money procuring unique designs that would become cultural identifiers of wealth, social club exclusivity or priviledged social connections.

“Art is both creation and recreation. Of the two ideas, I think art as recreation or as sheer play of the human spirit is more important.” Lin Yutang

Victorian Couple

Odile and Odette

Shonibare’s motivation might have been to portray how African women and men use these beautiful fabrics to highlight their special, idealized cultural connections. However, his research found something more; a remarkable historical paradox. The paradox was that the fabrics were originally manufactured in Holland for the Indonesian batik market. When the Indonesian traders rejected the designs as unsuitable for their market, the fabrics were sold to African traders who transformed this unexpected reject into a cultural windfall that remains a staple of every African woman’s wardrobe.

“Art is the imposing of a pattern on experience, and our aesthetic enjoyment is recognition of the pattern.” Alfred North Whitehead

Leisure Lady with Ocelots

Because many people presume the fabric origins are inherently African, Shonibare uses his artwork to force us to consider how the themes of artifice and authenticity can be presented and lampooned. How does he accomplish his objective? He dresses his Victorian mannequins in appropriately styled period clothing made from these “authentic African” fabrics. He then presents some of his mannequins in inappropriate, lascivious postures.

Interestingly, for the last several years, the Ankara trend has been overtaken by wax prints from Cote d’Ivoire and perhaps more recently, Ghana. The prints from Cote d’Ivoire are called “Woodin” (tied to Vlisco), while the Ghanaian ones are simply referred to as ..”Ghana!” These fabrics which bear special names like Treasures (a tradition of naming fabrics continues even today) are vibrant, colorful and rich… The designs show a high level of creativity too. Woodin did a range of animal prints, there’s liberal use of gold and silver paint, faux lace and more. The colors range from pastels to brilliant blues, bright reds, oranges to black and white monochromatic designs. Additionally, the younger generations have jettisoned the Dutch wax in favor of these newer fabrics especially because they are more affordable.

“There is no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality.” Pablo Picasso

Black Gold ~ A reference to the continent's Oil Resources

Maxa

According to Shonibare, another source of inspiration for his Victorian era installation pieces came from Margaret Thatcher’s call for Victorian values in the decadent 1980s. This was also the era when Thatcher re-evaluated British immigration policy and sent many British residents from the former colonies packing. His depiction of characters from the colonial era, dressed in African patterned Dutch made fabrics, was not accidental; any student of colonial African history knows that the scramble for Africa created chaotic geographic boundaries. The new nations that emerged were a mishmash of former opponents led by warlords eager to maintain the interests of their specific ethnic group. Today, leaders on the continent continue to seek ways to stem the resultant warfare; a legacy of those ancient affiliations.

“All art is contemporary, if it’s alive, and if it’s not alive, what’s the point of it?” David Hockney

The Scramble for Africa

La Meduse ~ The Ship to nowhere...

The Scramble for Africa left behind a complex hodgepodge of competing cultures created by European colonialists in the form of Anglophone/Francophone/Lusophone nations on the continent. The terms actually identify English/French/Portuguese speaking African nations; each nation representing a miniature cultural version of the former ruling entity. Ironically, in the similarly named installation by Shonibare, “The Scramble for Africa,” he depicts a scene where African leaders sit around dinner table considering ways to divide and pillage the continent’s resources; thereby perpetuating the atrocities of its past history.

“I want the point of entry to be intriguing and to be engaging and hopefully people will enter the other levels of the work.” Yinka Shonibare

Big Boy: The Dandy in his regalia

Reverend on Ice

In reviewing Shonibare’s art, one is led to see how a Post colonial African artist juxtaposes artifice with the authentic and creates something refreshingly original that can’t be easily typecast. The fabrics on these Victorian figures (from the staid to the sexualized) are an artificial construct exported to the continent by textile merchants from Manchester, England and from, Vlisco, a company in the Netherlands.

“Respect the masterpiece. It is true reverence to man. There is no quality so great, none so much needed now.” Frank Lloyd Wright

Gallantry and Criminal Conversations

Sun, Sea and Sand

While Shonibare’s work addresses issues of culture, race, identity politics and reconstructed history, his art is still quite entertaining, playful and colorful. Even his acceptance of an MBE (Member of the British Empire) from the Queen, and his subsequent use of that honorific title in his recent exhibitions, hints at the humor he finds in what could potentially be deemed ironic. Here is an outsider, particularly one who lampoons the draconian dictates and high brow hypocrisies of the old establishment, being honored instead of vilified by the descendants of the establishment.

“Is there such a thing as pure origin? For those of the post colonial generation this is a very difficult question. I’m bilingual because I was brought up in Lagos and London.” Yinka Shonibare

The Sleep of Reason ~ Asia and Africa

Dysfunctional Family

As Yinka Shonibare shared in an interview with Anthony Downey for Bomb Magazine, “In the end, I felt that, given what my work is about; to have actually been acknowledged and honored by the establishment was quite interesting … I think it’s better to make an impact from within rather than from without. In a way I feel flattered, because I never really thought the establishment took any notice of what artists did.” As long as he maintains creative license, some artistic distance and remains observant of the cultural mores of the social milieu he tackles in his art work, his impact from “within” should remain fresh and unencumbered. We hope…

“Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.” Edith Wharton

Deep Blue ~ Acrylic paint on 25 Dutch printed cotton fabric

Alternating Currents ~ Fabric on wall shows Nigerian Eagles teammates

Shonibare’s art installations and short films are currently being exhibited at both the Brooklyn Museum in Brooklyn, NY from June 26–September 20, 2009 and at the Newark Museum in Newark, NJ from July 1, 2009 – January 3, 2010. I encourage you to visit and share your thoughts with us here. What do you think?

Photo Credits: Photos culled from various sources in print and online media
Photo Credits: include photos from Yinka Shonibare’s website
Additional Photos from my personal collection.

Until Next Time…
Ask. Believe. Receive. ©
Elizabeth Obih-Frank

Leaganul

Fragonard este pictorul frivolitatilor, dar pe care le infatiseaza cu gratie si subtilitate.

Aceasta pictura, de exemplu. Face parte din jocul seductiei, acel ansamblu de priviri fugare, gesturi echivoce si multe altele  fara de care amorul nu ar fi decat un act banal. Scena de fata poate duce cu gandul la faimoasa imagine din Basic Instinct, in care Sharon Stone isi desface picioarele si ofera privelistea lui Michael Douglas si lumii intregi. Dar ce diferenta intre brutalitatea cinematografica si finetea acestei picturi! Femeia este mai smechera, iar barbatului nu ii este sucit capul de intrezarirea desuurilor, ci se lasa cuprins in aceasta stare pe care o exprima atat de bine Chris Isaak in Wicked Game.

Culorile sunt alese impecabil. Verdele linistitor scoate in evidenta rozul, care nu e nici rosul pasiuni, dar nici albul puritatii.

They’re finally here. Thank you, FedEx for delivering them safely!

You may recall this beauty from my very first post.
Started at $5, walked away at $3.00. But as the yardsale went on, we got better at our bargaining!

Various milk glass items. From left to right: hobnail (that’s the pattern) candleholders, Fenton (we were told that’s the maker) rose pedestal candy dish (aka compote), hobnail bowl (we think this is also Fenton-made), and Fenton milk glass hobnail double crimped vase. The name “milk glass” refers to the “milky” color (if you haven’t gotten that already). We saw a lot of white ones at the yardsale, but I understand that this sort of glass comes in other colors too, like blue and pink. Milk glass was intended to look like porcelain, but was less expensive to produce. Total collection: $25. Not sure if we overpaid for one of them; the rose pedestal bowl was $15. Everything else was below $10.

Milk glass hobnail vase. According to this site, the maker is Anchor Hocking Glass Co., c1960 or 1970. Going for $15 on the site; I got it for $2 a the yardsale.

Fragonard prints for $3. I think the guy who sold it to us didn’t know they were signed. If you look very closely at the bottom left or right of the prints, you can see the name “Fragonard.” Okay, nix that idea. There’s no way you can tell from the picture, but I promise it’s there! Anyhoo, Jean-Honore Fragonard was a French artist popular during the late Rococo period (18th century), characterized by lavish opulence, a taste for the exotic, and ornamentation. Living up to his time, Fragonard’s most popular works were genre paintings depicting scenes of intimacy and pleasure. The ones we bought are at least PG-13!

Italian lamp (I think also from the Rococo period) for my Mom’s bedside table. She was looking for something with height, and I think we found it. Started at $5, walked away at $1.50!

Mom’s lamp, up close and personal. Rococo, lavish, ornate, see what I mean?

I know, just a plain mirror (for now) — but I plan to paint it white so it will go fabulously well against my liquid blue wall!

Elegant little clock that I got for a buck. I know, it’s a little scratched, but I think it’s lovely. On my way to completing the home office/guest room look!

My most prized find — a pair of French lamps that I got for $6 buckaroos! Aren’t they beautiful? If anyone knows more about these lamps (period, style, etc.) please do share!

Acontecerá em Firenze, na Itália, a sétima edição da feira Fragrance do dia 11 ao dia 13 de setembro. A feira será realizada pela Pitti Immagine e contará com 150 marcas. Serão apresentadas fragrâncias, produtos para o corpo, cosméticos e acessórios perfumados.

Entre as marcas que estarão presentes destacam-se: Abanha, Amouage, Annick Goutal, Bois 1920, Casaroma, Creed, The Different Company, Diptyque, E. Marinella, Esteban, Floris, Fragonard, Glominerals, Heeley, Histoires De Parfums, Il Profumo, Juliette Has A Gun, Ulrich Lang, Laura Tonatto, Lorenzo Villoresi, Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier, Montale – Paris, Nasomatto, Nougat Body To Home, Officina Delle Essenze, Officina De’ Tornabuoni, Penhaligon’s, Ligne St. Barth, Tauleto Fragrance, The Laundress, Valobra.

Foto do site: Blogosfere

As I have previously hinted, for the past week I’ve been in Seattle, forcing my company upon its unsuspecting inhabitants, specifically D-Kool.  I arrived last Sunday (after a lengthy delay at the airport, which involved sitting on the plane for over an hour while technicians fiddled around w/ the air conditioning), and D-Kool and I predictably spent about 30 min. running past each other in (the huge and misleadingly signed) SeaTac airport.

On the way to her house, we stopped and browsed around SAM (Seattle Art Museum), which was nice, nothing more or less…although I hold museums to a pretty high standard.  We tried to break the rules by sipping water in one of the galleries, and were immediately accosted by a museum guard.  I like to think we added a bit of excitement to his day.  Evidently he thought so too, b/c even though we stashed the offending water bottle, he continued to come up to us and make small talk every so often.  There was an Andrew Wyeth (to whom D-Kool could claim a tenuous family connection) exhibit going on.  I liked his paintings a great deal, but my companion remained unimpressed.

After that we went home, made dinner, and sat around inertly b/c it was hot.  I had come to Seattle (in vain, it turned out) hoping to escape the MO heat.  Now I found myself in a city w/ comparable temperatures (actually hotter than my town), except w/ the added luxury of having absolutely no AC.  I was only able to sleep w/ a fan blasting on me.

The next day I donned a cute little linen halter-dress, the better to meet D-Kool’s friend Jenna.  It was decided that we would ride bikes to the U-district, where Jenna lives in a rambling house w/ 12 other college students.  I was already in the habit of pedalling around wearing frilly skirts and flats, so riding in a dress did not phase me.  The hills, h/e, did.  As we hurtled down a steep incline, I heard myself emit a high, keening noise, and a panicked stream of babble that sounded like “Weeeregonnadiiieeeeeee!”  D-Kool couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was about.  ”Calm down, Dragon!”

“I just almost got run over by a bus!”

“You did not!  I saw it, and it was parked in front of a stop sign!”

D-Kool–a far superior cyclist–had left me far behind, and I began to fear that if I disappeared, she would not immediately notice, and I would be left to bleed to death on the pavement in a most undignified manner.  Luckily, it did not come to that, and we reached Jenna’s residence unharmed.

“The roads are so big!” I spluttered.  ”And the cars go so fast!”

“Really?” D-Kool was skeptical.  ”Seattle is famous for having really slow drivers.”

After meeting Jenna, we all went to the UW (pronounced “you-dub”) campus, which boasted beautifully landscaped grounds and neogothic buildings.  The library was absolutely gorgeous, and I felt a pang of jealousy that UW students got to study beneath vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows; in comparison Tulane’s library, an unappetizing block of concrete, looked like a gulag reject.

We (me, D-Kool, and her friend Kimmy) held a belated birthday celebration in my honor in Golden Gardens, one of Seattle’s few sandy beaches.  We arrived at sunset, bearing cupcakes and a bottle of vinho verde.  The water was the pearly pink of some magical potion, and small fires dotted the sand, around which people roasted marshmallows or sat sipping beer and chatting.

On Wednesday D-Kool and I headed out early.  Our first stop was Pike Place Market, where I bought various locally produced gifts for my family, and browsed through stalls of handmade glass beads and fresh flowers.  I also purchased a ridiculously expensive (I thought the guy was kidding when he told me the price), but ridiculously delicious freshly made organic smoothie, and D-Kool and I rambled downtown.  We next went on the Underground Tour.  It turns out that what appears to be the surface of Seattle actually rests upon an entire, unoccupied city that had to be abandoned in 1907 due to health concerns.  Our tour guide was quite entertaining, and I definitely learned a lot of the city (like: it was founded by idiots, and frequently flooded w/ poop).

After that we wandered around Pioneer Square, and I succumbed to the lure of a vintage dress shop.  I was only planning to try things on, but I ended up walking out w/ two dresses, a pretty lace bolero, and some fishnet thigh-highs (though my wallet was considerably lighter).  From there D-Kool and I spent a great deal of time trying to track down an art gallery so we could see the Alice Wheeler art exhibition it was hosting.  It was absolutely sweltering, and we were burdened w/ my purchases, which did not improve things.  Just as we were about to despair, we stumbled upon the gallery.  I can’t say that the exhibit was worth the work of finding it, but it was free, and interesting in its own way.

The next day we headed to the Frye Art Museum, which had disappointingly pulled many of its exhibits.  They did have a special display of puppets, and D-Kool and I watched a mystifying claymation video by Nathalie Djurberg called “The Swing,” after Fragonard’s painting, in which some frothily dressed rococo lady eludes her lover and made menacing faces at woodland creatures.  Determined to make the most of our visit, D-Kool and I loitered in the gift shop, staging impromptu puppet shows that mostly involved the puppets attacking each other’s faces.  Pure improvisational gold.

I was quite startled by the arrival of my last day, and sad to leave (especially since the heat wave had finally broken).  It was hard to leave D-Kool, whom I see only intermittently, and who had shown admirable fortitude in putting up w/ me over the past 5 days.  Our goodbye was tinged w/ the knowledge that I would soon be out of the country for the next 2 yrs.

La plecare in concediu am primit cateva indicatii pretioase privind ceea ce ar trebui sa vizitam in Provence. Dintre acestea si celebrele fabrici de parfum (sapun si creme) Fragonard de la Grasse, St Paul si Eze. La hotel am gasit o harta cu cele trei locatii, asa ca dupa o dimineata de plaja am plecat spre cea mai aproapiata fabrica, cea de la Eze. Drumul spre Eze Village este destul de intortochiat plin de serpentine dar bine marcat cu indicatoare la tot pasul.

Intre Monaco si Nice intr-un orasel cochet ca toate cele de pe Coasta de Azur te intampina Parfumeria Fragonard.

Lasam masina intr-o parcare cu multa verdeata si mergem la intrarea in fabrica.

Aici cativa pomi cu buline lipite pe frumze, buline de diferite culori care au pe ele litera “F”, cred ca de la Fragonard.

Suntem intampinati de o doamna simpatica care ne intreaba ce nationalitate suntem. Spunem ca romani si ne anunta ca trebuie sa asteptam sa vina ghidul de limba romana (care tocmai plecase) sau sa mergem cu alt grup. Alegem ghidul de limba engleza si impreuna cu alti cativa turisti intram in fabrica. Vizita este gratuita si ghidul obligatoriu, lucru specificat pe tablitele indicatoare si chiar si pe masinile de transport.

In fabrica fotografiatul este permis, dar numai in locul in care nu sunt lucratori. Cum era sambata, nu lucra nimeni asa ca am putut face cateva poze. O doamna draguta, originala din Italia, ne-a condus si explicat procesul tehnologic al obtinerii esentei folosite in producerea parfumului, a cremelor si sapunurilor. Ne-a dezvaluit cateva curiozitati pentru noi: angajatii lucreaza numai doua ore pe zi si nu trebuie sa fumeze si sa bea pentru ca sa simta mirosul specific al esentelor, parfumul se ambaleaza in sticlute argintii pentru a se pastra cat mai mult, diferenta dintre parfum si apa de colonie, florile locate si cele din import din care se obtin esente.

Cateva ustensile folosite in extragerea esentei de parfum.

Sapunele frumusele in forma de flori si ratuste. Niste ratuste mici galbene.

Flacoane de crema parfumata si sapun

Sticlute cu parfum si dopuri aurii pregatite pentru alte sticlute de parfum

La sfarsitul vizitei insotitoarea ne-a condus intr-un magazin in care ne-a prezentat cateva mostre de parfum, am mirosit foite parfumate, ne-am dat cu crema de corp si crema de maini. Miroseam precum o drogherie. Au fost prezentate si cateva oferte de pret pentru o multitudine de produse de gramaje. Sincer cam scumpe pentru buzunarul nostru de turist si oricum nu stiam ce sa luam, cu atatea mirosuri nu mai simteam nimic. Din cap pana in picioare eram un parfum. Astfel s-a incheiat o prima parte a zilei in Eze Village. Interesant si placut totodata.

Jean-Honore Fragonard | Homeschool Art Lesson Resources

Learn about the life and art of celebrated Late Rococo painter and printmaker Jean-Honore Fragonard (1732-1806). Start with the biography, and then click and print these fun curriculum resources.

Biography
Jean-Honore Fragonard (frah gaw NAHR) was a French artist who lived in the 1700’s. He was such a good artist that he won the Prix de Rome award which enabled him to study in Italy. His paintings were in the style of what is called the Rococo period. These paintings featured soft colors and natural, carefree scenes. The Swing is such a scene.

Fragonard biography continued from GardenofPraise.com

The Reader Desktop Wallpaper
Familiarize your kids with great art by placing a The Reader (different profile) wallpaper on their computer.

The Reader desktop wallpaper from Art-Wallpaper.com

 

Jean-Honore Fragonard’s The Reader Online Jigsaw Puzzle
Try out this fantastic online jigsaw puzzle of Jean-Honore Fragonard’s The Reader. The puzzle even allows you to rotate the pieces to make it a little more challenging for older students.

The Reader Jigsaw Puzzle on GardenofPraise.com

Jean-Honore Fragonard’s The Reader Crossword Puzzle

Print a The Reader crossword puzzle worksheet from GardenofPraise.com. It’s yet another opportunity to familiarize your young student with great art.

The Reader Crossword Puzzle from GardenofPraise.com

Jean-Honore Fragonard Word Search Worksheet
Print a word search worksheet from GardenofPraise.com, and drill the important information from the biography.
 

Fragonard Word Search Worksheet from GardenofPraise.com
 

Browse the Index for more great “The Art Student” resources

Psiquê era a mais nova de três filhas de um rei de Mileto e era extremamente bela.

Sua beleza era tanta que pessoas de várias regiões iam admirá-la, assombrados, rendendo-lhe homenagens que só eram devidas à própria Afrodite.

Profundamente ofendida e enciumada, Afrodite enviou seu filho, Eros, para fazê-la apaixonar-se pelo homem mais feio e vil de toda a terra.

Porém, ao ver sua beleza, Eros apaixonou-se perdidamente.

O pai de Psiquê, suspeitando que havia ofendido os deuses, resolveu consultar o oráculo de Apolo, pois suas outras filhas encontraram maridos e, no entanto, Psiquê permanecia sozinha.

Através desse oráculo, o próprio Eros ordenou ao rei que enviasse sua filha ao topo de uma solitária montanha, onde seria desposada por uma terrível serpente.

A jovem aterrorizada foi levada ao pé do monte e abandonada por seus pesarosos parentes e amigos.

Conformada com seu destino, Psiquê foi tomada por um profundo sono, sendo, então, conduzida pela brisa gentil de Zéfiro a um lindo vale.

Quando acordou, caminhou por entre as flores, até chegar a um castelo magnífico.

Notou que lá deveria ser a morada de um deus, tal a perfeição que podia ver em cada um dos seus detalhes.

Tomando coragem, entrou no deslumbrante palácio, onde todos os seus desejos foram satisfeitos por ajudantes invisíveis, dos quais só podia ouvir a voz.

Chegando a escuridão, foi conduzida pelos criados a um quarto de dormir.

Certa de ali encontraria finalmente o seu terrível esposo, começou a tremer quando sentiu que alguém entrara no quarto.

No entanto, uma voz maravilhosa a acalmou.

Logo em seguida, sentiu mãos humanas acariciarem seu corpo.

A esse amante misterioso, ela se entregou.

Quando acordou, já havia chegado o dia e seu amante havia desaparecido.

Porém essa mesma cena se repetiu por diversas noites.

Eros e Psiquê - Antonio Canova

Enquanto isso, suas irmãs continuavam a sua procura, mas seu esposo misterioso a alertou para não responder aos seus chamados.

Finalmente, ele aceitou, mas impôs a condição que, não importando o que suas irmãs dissessem, ela nunca tentaria conhecer sua verdadeira identidade.

Quando suas irmãs entraram no castelo e viram aquela abundância de beleza e maravilhas, foram tomadas de inveja.

Notando que o esposo de Psiquê nunca aparecia, perguntaram maliciosamente sobre sua identidade.

Embora advertida por seu esposo, Psiquê viu a dúvida e a curiosidade tomarem conta de seu ser, aguçadas pelos comentários de suas irmãs.  

Psiquê suas irmãs - Fragonard

 Seu esposo alertou-a que suas irmãs estavam tentando fazer com que ela olhasse seu rosto, mas se assim ela fizesse, ela nunca mais o veria novamente.

Além disso, ele contou-lhe que ela estava grávida e se ela conseguisse manter o segredo ele seria divino, porém se ela falhasse, ele seria mortal.

Ao receber novamente suas irmãs, Psiquê contou-lhes que estava grávida, e que sua criança seria de origem divina.

Suas irmãs ficaram ainda mais enciumadas com sua situação, pois além de todas aquelas riquezas, ela era a esposa de um lindo deus.

Assim, trataram de convencer a jovem a olhar a identidade do esposo, pois se ele estava escondendo seu rosto era porque havia algo de errado com ele. Ele realmente deveria ser uma horrível serpente e não um deus maravilhoso.

Assustada com o que suas irmãs disseram, escondeu uma faca e uma lâmpada próximo a sua cama, decidida a conhecer a identidade de seu marido, e se ele fosse realmente um monstro terrível, matá-lo. Ela havia esquecido dos avisos de seu amante, de não dar ouvidos a suas irmãs.

À noite, quando Eros descansava ao seu lado, Psique tomou coragem e aproximou a lâmpada do rosto de seu marido, esperando ver uma horrenda criatura.

Para sua surpresa, o que viu porém deixou-a maravilhada. Um jovem de extrema beleza estava repousando com tamanha quietude e doçura que ela pensou em tirar a própria vida por haver dele duvidado.

Enfeitiçada por sua beleza, demorou-se admirando o deus alado. Não percebeu que havia inclinado de tal maneira a lâmpada que uma gota de óleo quente caiu sobre o ombro direito de Eros, acordando-o. 

Cupido e Psiquê - Jacques-Louis David

Eros olhou-a assustado, e voou pela janela do quarto, dizendo:

- “Tola Psiquê! É assim que retribuis meu amor? Depois de haver desobedecido as ordens de minha mãe e te tornado minha esposa, tu me julgavas um monstro e estavas disposta a cortar minha cabeça? Vai. Volta para junto de tuas irmãs, cujos conselhos pareces preferir aos meus. Não lhe imponho outro castigo, além de deixar-te para sempre. O amor não pode conviver com a suspeita.”

Quando se recompôs, notou que o lindo castelo a sua volta desaparecera, e que se encontrava bem próxima da casa de seus pais.

Psiquê ficou inconsolável. Tentou suicidar-se atirando-se em um rio próximo, mas suas águas a trouxeram gentilmente para sua margem. Foi então alertada por Pan, para esquecer o que se passou e procurar novamente ganhar o amor de Eros.

Por sua vez, quando suas irmãs souberam do acontecido, fingiram pesar, mas partiram então para o topo da montanha, pensando em conquistar o amor de Eros. Lá chegando, chamaram o vento Zéfiro, para que as sustentasse no ar e as levasse até Eros. Mas, Zéfiro desta vez não as ergueram no céu, e elas caíram no despenhadeiro, morrendo.

Psiquê, resolvida a reconquistar a confiança de Eros, saiu a sua procura por todos os lugares da terra, dia e noite, até que chegou a um templo no alto de uma montanha.

Com esperança de lá encontrar o amado, entrou no templo e viu uma grande bagunça de grãos de trigo e cevada, ancinhos e foices espalhados por todo o recinto. Convencida que não devia negligenciar o culto a nenhuma divindade, pôs-se a arrumar aquela desordem, colocando cada coisa em seu lugar.

Deméter, para quem aquele templo era destinado, ficou profundamente grata e disse-lhe:

- “Ó Psiquê, embora não possa livrá-la da ira de Afrodite, posso ensiná-la a fazê-lo com suas próprias forças: vá ao seu templo e renda a ela as homenagens que ela, como deusa, merece.”

Afrodite, ao recebê-la em seu templo, não esconde sua raiva. Afinal, por aquela reles mortal seu filho havia desobedecido suas ordens e agora ele se encontrava em um leito, recuperando-se da ferida por ela causada.

Como condição para o seu perdão, a deusa impôs uma série de tarefas que deveria realizar, tarefas tão difíceis que poderiam causar sua morte.

Primeiramente, deveria, antes do anoitecer, separar uma grande quantidade de grãos misturados de trigo, aveia, cevada, feijões e lentilhas. Psiquê ficou assustada diante de tanto trabalho, porém uma formiga que estava próxima, ficou comovida com a tristeza da jovem e convocou seu exército a isolar cada uma das qualidades de grão.

Como 2ª tarefa, Afrodite ordenou que fosse até as margens de um rio onde ovelhas de lã dourada pastavam e trouxesse um pouco da lã de cada carneiro. Psiquê estava disposta a cruzar o rio quando ouviu um junco dizer que não atravessasse as águas do rio até que os carneiros se pusessem a descansar sob o sol quente, quando ela poderia aproveitar e cortar sua lã. De outro modo, seria atacada e morta pelos carneiros. Assim feito, Psiquê esperou até o sol ficar bem alto no horizonte, atravessou o rio e levou a Afrodite uma grande quantidade de lã dourada.

Sua 3ª tarefa seria subir ao topo de uma alta montanha e trazer para Afrodite uma jarra cheia com um pouco da água escura que jorrava de seu cume. Dentre os perigos que Psiquê enfrentou, estava um dragão que guardava a fonte. Ela foi ajudada nessa tarefa por uma grande águia, que voou baixo próximo a fonte e encheu a jarra com a negra água.

Irada com o sucesso da jovem, Afrodite planejou uma última, porém fatal, tarefa. Psiquê deveria descer ao mundo inferior e pedir a Perséfone, que lhe desse um pouco de sua própria beleza, que deveria guardar em uma caixa. Desesperada, subiu ao topo de uma elevada torre e quis atirar-se, para assim poder alcançar o mundo subterrâneo. A torre, porém, murmurou instruções de como entrar em uma particular caverna para alcançar o reino de Hades. Ensinou-lhe ainda como driblar os diversos perigos da jornada, como passar pelo cão Cérbero e deu-lhe uma moeda para pagar a Caronte pela travessia do rio Estige, advertindo-a:

- “Quando Perséfone lhe der a caixa com sua beleza, toma o cuidado, maior que todas as outras coisas, de não olhar dentro da caixa, pois a beleza dos deuses não cabe a olhos mortais.”

Seguindo essas palavras, conseguiu chegar até Perséfone, que estava sentada imponente em seu trono e recebeu dela a caixa com o precioso tesouro. Tomada, porém, pela curiosidade em seu retorno, abriu a caixa para espiar. Ao invés de beleza havia apenas um sono terrível que dela se apossou.

Eros, curado de sua ferida, voou ao socorro de Psiquê e conseguiu colocar o sono novamente na caixa, salvando-a.

Lembrou-lhe novamente que sua curiosidade havia novamente sido sua grande falta, mas que agora podia apresentar-se à Afrodite e cumprir a tarefa.

Enquanto isso, Eros foi ao encontro de Zeus e implorou a ele que apaziguasse a ira de Afrodite e ratificasse o seu casamento com Psiquê.

Atendendo seu pedido, o grande deus do Olimpo ordenou que Hermes conduzisse a jovem à assembléia dos deuses e a ela foi oferecida uma taça de ambrosia.

Então com toda a cerimônia, Eros casou-se com Psiquê, e no devido tempo nasceu seu filho, chamado Voluptas (Prazer).

Jean-Honoré Fragonard’s ‘The Progress of Love’ cycle

Only those who lived before the French Revolution could understand the sweetness of living, declared Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord, the wily statesman who managed to play a decisive role in virtually every French government from the ancien régime to the early 1830s.

Few works testify more powerfully to the elegance, sensuousness and delicate beauty of that lost world than “The Progress of Love,” the panels created by Jean-Honoré Fragonard for Mme du Barry, the last mistress of Louis XV.

Fragonard was born in Grasse, in the south of France, in 1732. When he was a child his father, a glove maker, moved the family to Paris, where the boy studied with two of the greatest painters of the early 18th century, Chardin and Boucher. He enjoyed early success. When he was 20 he won the Prix de Rome, which enabled him to study in Italy. At the age of 23 a historical painting of his was acquired by Louis XV, which entitled him to the honorary title, Painter to the King.

In 1769 the king, known during his reign as Louis the Beloved, made du Barry a gift of a chateau in Louveciennes, on the Seine northwest of Paris. The building itself dated from the previous century.

In keeping with her reputation as a trendsetter, du Barry commissioned the fashionable architect Claude-Nicolas Ledoux to create a neighboring pavilion in a more contemporary style for the express purpose of entertaining the king. And Fragonard was commissioned to decorate the room adjoining the dining room in that pavilion. He painted four wall-size oil-on-canvas panels.

Two scenes are of pursuit. In one the young woman being pursued is leaping over a short wall, the billows of her gown suggesting considerable anxiety.

The Pursuit

The Meeting

The other two panels depict the tranquility of love acknowledged. In “The Lover Crowned,” the woman who was pursued places a floral crown on the head of her pursuer. Their little drama is being painted by an artist, who has presumably posed them.

The Love Letters

The Lover Crowned

The panels were painted on site, and fashionable Paris drove to Louveciennes to see the work being done. “But not everybody gets in,” an observer wrote in 1772. “It is only through special favors that one may penetrate this sanctuary of voluptuousness.”

These four panels were then rejected by du Barry. (There is evidence that she paid Fragonard for them and graciously allowed him to keep them.) The reasons for this rejection have never been fully determined. The most widely accepted explanation is that du Barry, ever the creature of fashion, recognized that by the early ’70s they were vieux jeu, or old-fashioned. The playfulness of the rococo had given way to the comparative seriousness of neoclassicism.

In retrospect this rejection may have been a blessing — for us. Du Barry was arrested at Louveciennes in 1793 and shortly afterward sent to the guillotine. Who knows what the revolutionary mob might have done if they had seen the Fragonards, so emblematic of the regime they were eradicating?

By then the panels were in the house of Fragonard’s cousin, Alexandre Maubert, in Grasse. Fragonard had returned there in ill health in 1790 and lived with his cousin. He painted other panels to enhance the original set. Fragonard died in his cousin’s house in 1806, impoverished and largely forgotten. Only late in the 19th century did his reputation begin to be resuscitated. In 1898 there was a movement to transfer the panels to the Louvre.

Instead, that year Maubert’s grandson sold them to the English dealer Wertheimer, who in turn sold them to J.P. Morgan. Morgan built a room for them in his London mansion. Their first public display was at the Metropolitan Museum in 1914 in a tribute to Morgan shortly after he died. Morgan had been the president of the Metropolitan as well as a munificent benefactor.

Among the visitors to that exhibit was steel magnate Henry Clay Frick, who was busy amassing his own art collection. His interest in the Fragonards was noted by the consummate dealer Joseph Duveen, who bought them for $1 million. Shortly afterward he sold them to Frick for $1.2 million, which he considered “cost.” Duveen’s intention was to make a heftier profit on all the other objects he would sell Frick for his new mansion on Fifth Avenue at 70th Street. He did.

The Fragonard panels would again have their own room, but unlike the one for which they were designed at Louveciennes, the gallery in the Frick did not have curved walls. And because of the need to accommodate the additional Grasse panels, the original four do not follow the same narrative progression as they did at Louveciennes.

Handsomely restored a few years ago, the panels present some problems of interpretation. The woman alone, for example — is her solitary situation the sequel of the drama of pursuit? Or is it the prequel? In “The Lover Crowned,” why is the pursuer looking adoringly at his beloved while she, positioning the wreath accurately enough, is looking off into space, not even at the artist? It does not suggest a proper reward for her lover’s intense chase or his unmistakable devotion.

In several of the panels there is statuary that, we assume, must be a comment on the action below. In this case the statue is of Cupid, who, far from encouraging the pair or even beaming at his achievement, is simply asleep.

By our standards the human figures seem highly stylized, though the young man is never less than totally ardent as he pursues his quarry. Her expression as she tries to elude him reflects anxiety. Only in the final panel, in which she sits on a pedestal, looking modestly downward as he rests his head on her shoulder, do we sense contentment. In this panel the accompanying statue seems to be that of a matron and child, suggesting cozy domesticity ahead.

It is difficult to see why contemporaries, visiting Louveciennes during the creation of these works, saw in the portraits of elegantly, chastely dressed figures a “sanctuary of voluptuousness.” But these figures only occupy the bottom third of each panel. Above them are huge trees whose unusual, abstract shapes have a sensual fullness that could indeed be described as voluptuous. Also, the palette is unmistakably Fragonard’s — the colors have a freshness that intensifies the sensual quality of the images.

I first “discovered” the Fragonards as a student in the early ’60s. It was around the time I was also “discovering” Mozart. My idea of Paradise was to sit in this room in the Frick, listening to “Cosi fan Tutte” — another work only conceivable in an aristocratic world, in which sensuality can be discovered beneath a brittle, seemingly artificial surface.

Fragonard’s masterworks are comparably dazzling. Time has given them a poignancy as well, since we know how brutally the world they reflected was destroyed.

Howard Kissel is a former drama critic of the New York Daily News.

__________

Full article: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB124121525627578619.html

Photos: http://collections.frick.org/4DACTION/HANDLECGI/QSF2?whichfield=1&field1=7&lineCount=1&RefineSearch=NewSelection&value1=fragonard+room@