Sunday 31 January 2010

Art Sunday; Nicolas de Stael

Nicolas de Staël
(1914-1955)

Nicolas de Staël
January 5, 1914, Saint Petersburg – March 16, 1955, Antibes (French nationality, of Russian origin) was a painter known for his use of a thick impasto and his highly abstract landscape painting.
He was a major painter of the School of Paris.
He was the son of a wealthy Russian baron and it was his mother who encouraged him to draw and paint from a very early age. His early life was difficult which ciould have led to his mental health problems later in life. In 1919 the Russian Revolution forced his family into exile, they travelled to Poland and settled there. Unfortunately within 2 years both parents were dead and Nicolas was sent to Brussels to study humanities. It was in 1932 that he entered the Royal Academy of Art there.

During the 1930s Staël seemed a restless soul, he travelled extensively and looked at as many kinds of art as possible. In the Netherlands he was particularly impressed by the works of Rembrandt and Jan Vermeer, and in Paris he was very moved by the paintings of Paul Cézanne, Henri Matisse, and Georges Braque. His work is heavily influenced by Matisse in particular. He traveled throughout Spain, Italy, Morocco, and Algeria and then settled in 1938 settled in Paris. At the start of WW2 Staël joined the French Foreign Legion and fought in Tunisia for a year.
In 1942 Staël's individual style began to emerge. He gave up direct representation for a highly sensuous, nonfigurative approach, as in his Composition 45 (1945). He became friends with Braque and André Lanskoy, whose work he greatly admired and who encouraged and advised him. Staël's life had been one of extreme poverty, but by 1948, when he became a French citizen, he was beginning to be successful. Although he was painting nonfigurative pictures, he did not consider himself an abstract painter. "One does not start from nothing, and a painting is always bad if it has not been preceded by contact with nature."
In 1951 Staël made a trip to London, where he became familiar with the work of J. M. W. Turner and John Constable (the influence of Turner can also bee seen in his work) That year he executed a series of paintings of football players.

He began to paint directly from nature and developed a highly personal style of landscape painting. Staël applied brilliant flat colors with a minimum of detail, he captured the essence of the scene; this recognizable  simplification of a  scene was one of his trade mark and his contribution to the development of ‘modern painting’. It is found especially in paintings such as  in Landscape, Sky, Blue and Gray (1953).

He was a dedicated artist who lived for his painting, he had achieved wealth and fame when, on March 16, 1955, he committed suicide in Antibes.

But by 1953, de Staël's redcurrant depression had led him to seek isolation in the south of France (eventually in Antibes).

He suffered from exhaustion, insomnia and depression. Following a meeting with a particularly critical and unsympathetic art critic, on March 16, 1955 he committed suicide. He leapt to his death from his eleventh story studio terrace, in Antibes. He was only 41 years old.


Friday 29 January 2010

Song Saturday; The Queen of the Night

Tonight the moon is a huge silver ball,

 hanging in the sky.

It made me think of ‘The Queen of the Night’ scene from Amadeus. I found this piece of the film on YouTube which is exactly the piece of  film I was thinking of and then decided to sit and watch ‘’Pop star to Opera star’’ before posting. To my amazement this was the aria chosen for ex Shakespear Sister singer Marcella Detroit to sing in tonights show, and she sang it incredibly well. There is no clip of Marcella singing this on YouTube yet but I’m sure there will be soon.
But for now, this is The Queen of the Night, sung by June Anderson from the film Amadeus.

 It’s so ..well…... for want of a better word....... ‘Gothic’
(music from the Magic Flute, Mozart)


 

Tuesday 26 January 2010

Poetry Wednesday; Grace Nichols, artwork by Chris Ofili

Grace Nichols

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia;


Poet Grace Nichols was born in Georgetown, Guyana, in 1950. After working in Guyana as a teacher and journalist, she immigrated to the UK in 1977. Much of her poetry is characterised by Caribbean rhythms and culture, and influenced by Guyanese and Amerindian folklore.

Her first collection of poetry, I is a Long-Memoried Woman won the 1983 Commonwealth Poetry Prize. She has written several further books of poetry and a novel for adults, Whole of a Morning Sky, 1986. Her books for children include collections of short stories and poetry anthologies. Her latest work, of new and selected poems, is "Startling the Flying Fish", 2006.  Many GCSE students in the UK have studied her work on WWII. Her religion is Christianity after she was influenced by the UK's many religions and multi-cultural society.

 Poems from

The Fat Black Woman's Poems
by Grace Nichols

Synopsis;


Grace Nichols gives us images that stare us straight in the eye, images of joy, challenge, accusation. Her 'fat black woman' is brash; rejoices in herself; poses awkward questions to politicians, rulers, suitors, to a white world that still turns its back. Grace Nichols writes in a language that is wonderfully vivid yet economical of the pleasures and sadnesses of memory, of loving, of 'the power to be what I am, a woman, charting my own futures'.


The Fat Black Woman Goes Shopping

 
Shopping in London winter
is a real drag for the fat black woman
going from store to store
in search of accommodating clothes
and de weather so cold

Look at the frozen thin mannequins
fixing her with grin
and de pretty face salesgals
exchanging slimming glances
thinking she don’t notice
 

Lord is aggravating
 
Nothing soft and bright and billowing
to flow like breezy sunlight
when she walking

The fat black woman curses in Swahili/Yoruba
and nation language under her breathing
all this journeying and journeying
 
The fat black woman could only conclude
that when it come to fashion
the choice is lean
 
Nothing much beyond size 14
 
 

Looking at Miss World

 
Tonight the fat black woman
is all agaze
will some Miss (plump at least
if not fat and black) uphold her name
 
The fat black woman awaits in vain
slim after slim aspirant appears
baring her treasures in hopeful despair
this the fat black woman can hardly bear

And as the beauties yearn
and the beauties yearn
the fat black woman wonders
when will the beauties
ever really burn
 
O the night wears on
the night wears on
judges mingling with chiffons

The fat black woman gets up
and pours some gin
toasting herself as a likely win


Art work by Chris Ofili

Chris Ofili's new show is a lesson in learning to be free. Not of the shadows cast by other artists, but of his own. Early success makes some artists grow scared of their shadows; they get so stuck with the thing they have become known for that they are paralysed, unable to find a way forward.

Now in his early 40s, the Trinidad-based British artist recognises that the coherent development of his work isn't something he need worry about. He is centred and confident enough to know that the work will tell the story. At the end of the 1990s, having become famous for using his signature elephant dung for some years, Ofili told me he was retreating to the studio and staying out of the limelight. By then he had won the Turner prize (in 1998; he was the first black artist to do so), and been vilified by New York mayor Rudolph Giuliani, who in 1999 objected to the Brooklyn Museum of Art showing his black Virgin Mary.
But he didn't escape attention or controversy: in 2005, Tate bought Ofili's 2002 work The Upper Room, a complex installation of 13 paintings in a shrine-like space, designed by the architect David Adjaye. Ofili was a Tate trustee at the time.

Read more here


http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2010/jan/25/chris-ofili-tate



 

Sunday 24 January 2010

Art Sunday; Scottish Artist in the countryside.

I have just returned from a weekend visit with a friend of mine. She is a Scottish Artist who specializes in Scottish landscapes and seascapes. I love her work, I’m very lucky, she has on occasions taken me out with her while she paints and sketches. The fact that many of the places she paints are known to me and some of her finished work was started on location while I was there makes her work extra special to me. Please visit her web site and see her work for yourself.
And once you have enjoyed her work, come back here to see the places she took me today.
http://www.scottish-painting.co.uk/

She lives in a small cottage on the Glamis Estate, for those who don’t know, The Glamis Estate is land owned by the Earl of Strathmore and is most famous for being the home of the late Queen Mother; Elizabeth Bowes-lyon.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Bowes-Lyon#

(although obviously the Queen Mum lived in Glamis Castle not a cottage on the estate). This is a picture of a rather pretty tree in my friends garden.
ALL PICTURES WILL ENLARGE IF YOU CLICK 

Learn more about Glamis here

http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk/glamis/glamis/index.html

We took a drive into the Angus countryside and headed toward the Glens.

 Just outside the small town of Kirriemuir is a ruined Victorian Hunting Lodge known as Balintore Castle. This building has been ruinous for many years but is now in the process of being rescued and hopefully returned to its former glory.

These pictures are of the old gatehouse, which is beyond repair but the building itself, seen sitting high up on the hill can be returned to its original state.

To get some idea of the amount of work the owner has taken on have a look at this website, it shows close up details of the damage to the fabric of the building.  
http://derelictionaddiction.fotopic.net/c1672266_1.html

This web site has information about the history and rescue of the building.
http://www.angus.gov.uk/new/releases-archive/2007/2007-02-07b.htm

Note the snow every where, you don’t need to travel very far out of the towns and into the Glens to find snow on the ground and ice over the water.

 With a thin layer of snow still covering the hills you can see the patterns of fields and enclosures under the snow.

The most beautiful sight I saw today has to be the reservoir.

Backwater reservoir supplies water to virtually the whole of Angus and Dundee and also part of Perthshire.

It’s a vast expanse of water, still mostly covered in ice, set against the back drop of snow covered hills.

 On days like this, despite the sub zero temperature and boggy ground underfoot, I love living here.
Information about the reservoir here
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Backwater_Reservoir



Friday 22 January 2010

Song Saturday; Del Amitri

 Del Ametri is a Scottish pop-rock guitar band, formed in Glasgow, Scotland in 1980. The band grew out of Justin Currie's Jordanhill College School band and came together after teenager Currie placed an advert in the window of a music store asking for people who could play to contact him. The band was formed with the original line-up of Currie (bass and vocals), Iain Harvie (lead guitar), Bryan Tolland (guitar) and Paul Tyagi (drums). Currie and Harvie are the only members of the band to remain present throughout its history – they are also the main songwriters of the group.
 
Amitri Del-Nothing Ever Happens

Post office clerks put up signs saying position closed
And secretaries turn off typewriters and put on their clothes
Janitors padlock the gates
For security guards to patrol
And bachelors phone up their friends for a drink
While the married ones turn on a chat show
And they'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow
Gentlemen time please, you know we can't serve anymore
Now the traffic lights change to stop, when there's nothing to go
And by five o'clock everything's dead
And every third car is a cab
And ignorant people sleep in their beds
Like the doped white mice in the college lab
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow
Telephone exchanges click while there's nobody there
The Martians could land in the carpark and no one would care
Close-circuit cameras in department stores shoot the same video every day
And the stars of these films neither die nor get killed
Just survive constant action replay
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow
Bill hoardings advertise products that nobody needs
While angry from Manchester writes to complain about
All the repeats on T.V.
And computer terminals report some gains
On the values of copper and tin
While American businessmen snap up Van Goghs
For the price of a hospital wing
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all
And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow#
 

Tuesday 19 January 2010

A Modern Day Moral Dilema

A Modern Day Moral Dilemma

Take what you are about to read in the context of my favorite saying;


‘’If you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem’'

Hmmmmm where to start…………..

Consider this hypothetical situation. You are walking through the streets of the town where you live, suddenly you turn a corner and come across someone you don’t know. This person is loud and offensive; he is openly homophobic, possibly xenophobic and defiantly racist toward the Muslim community. He stands on the corner, addressing any one who passes with his own very special brand of hate. Gathered around him is a group of people all of whom are ‘egging him on’, some are whole heartedly agreeing with him, some join in the banter and some agree with him ‘’light heartedly’’. Then you notice two or three people in the crowd who are friends of yours. These friends are people you have known for a while and whose company you enjoy. You have conversed with them about paintings, or poems, and other such topics and suddenly, here they are, apparently agreeing with behavior and attitudes you find abhorrent.

What do you do??

Do you confront your friends?

Do you confront the speaker?

Will you continue to be friends with these people in the future?

If you believe as I do that injustice needs to be confronted, that not to confront injustice amounts to condoning and encouraging it, how then can you NOT speak out?

As I said at the beginning, this is a hypothetical situation with hypothetical questions, and hypothetical questions don’t have any definite answers……….how can we know??

But I THINK I would confront the speaker AND my friends. Judging by the way I have reacted to real (as opposed to hypothetical) situations in the past, I think I would find it very difficult to maintain the same relationship with these friends as I had before this incident.

Which brings me to the point of this seemingly pointless ramble.

The point is……………. This is more or less what happened to me yesterday, not out there in ‘real life’ but right here in Multiply. I was happily wandering around, reading bits and pieces of different things, (the equivalent of window shopping in a ‘real’ street), when I happened across something I found pretty offensive. And there in the comments boxes were some of my friends, gleefully joining in the banter, apparently condoning what was being said!!!

Did I leave a comment? No, I slipped away and said nothing.

Did I delete these ‘’friends’’? No, I had a conversation with a couple of them and decided to leave them on my friends list.
 
Was I wrong not to make a stand about this? I have no idea.

Does this mean online relationships operate on completely different ‘rules’ to ‘real life’ relationships? I didn’t think so, now I’m not so sure.

Or possibly I just think too much and am blowing this whole thing way out of proportion. Or perhaps this is a prime example of how we operate in different ways in our ‘virtual’ worlds of social networking etc to the way we operate in our ‘real’ world. The only thing I know for sure is that the whole incident has left a lot of questions in my mind and whole lot of thinking material.


Ps…………if we have already discussed this, it’s not personal, it’s just the ramblings of my mind late at night.

 

 

Poetry Wednsday; Edward Lear, author, poet and artist.

How pleasant to know Mr. Lear
a poem by Edward Lear

How pleasant to know Mr. Lear,
Who has written such volumes of stuff.
Some think him ill-tempered and queer,
But a few find him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
(Leastways if you reckon two thumbs);
He used to be one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.

He sits in a beautiful parlour,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of marsala,
But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, laymen and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, "He's gone out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!"

He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads, but he does not speak, Spanish,
He cannot abide ginger beer;
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!
 


Edward Lear
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Born 12 May 1812 Holloway, England
Died 29 January 1888 (aged 75) Sanremo, Italy

Edward Lear was an English artist, illustrator, author, and poet, renowned today primarily for his literary nonsense, in poetry and prose, and especially his limericks, a form that he popularised.Lear was born into a middle-class family in the village of Holloway, the 21st child of Ann and Jeremiah Lear. He was raised by his eldest sister, also named Ann, 21 years his senior. Ann doted on Lear and continued to mother him until her death, when Lear was almost 50 years of age. Due to the family's failing financial fortune, at age four he and his sister had to leave the family home and set up house together.

Largely self-educated, Lear has been described as idiosyncratic yet brilliantly talented. Lear also suffered from health issues. From the age of six he suffered frequent grand mal epileptic seizures, and bronchitis, asthma, and in later life, partial blindness. Lear experienced his first seizure at a fair near Highgate with his father. The event scared and embarrassed him. Lear felt lifelong guilt and shame for his epileptic condition. His adult diaries indicate that he always sensed the onset of a seizure in time to remove himself from public view. How Lear was able to anticipate them is not known, but many people with epilepsy report a ringing in their ears or an "aura" before the onset of a seizure. In Lear's time epilepsy was believed to be associated with demonic possession, which contributed to his feelings of guilt and loneliness. When Lear was about seven he began to show signs of depression, possibly due to the constant instability of his childhood. He suffered from periods of severe depression which he referred to as "the Morbids."

Lear travelled widely throughout his life and eventually settled in Sanremo, on his beloved Mediterranean coast, in the 1870s, at a villa he named "Villa Tennyson." The closest he came to marriage was two proposals, both to the same woman 46 years his junior, which were not accepted. For companions he relied instead on a circle of friends and correspondents, and especially, in later life, on his Suliot chef, Giorgis, a faithful friend and, as Lear complained, a thoroughly unsatisfactory chef. Another trusted companion in Sanremo was his cat, Foss, who died in 1886 and was buried with some ceremony in a garden at Villa Tennyson. After a long decline in his health, Lear died at his villa in 1888, of the heart disease from which he had suffered since at least 1870. Lear's funeral was said to be a sad, lonely affair by the wife of Dr. Hassall, Lear's physician, not one of Lear's many lifelong friends being able to attend.



Friday 15 January 2010

Art Sunday; Mark Rothko

Art Sunday; Mark Rothko

I’m fully aware Rothko is not every ones cup of tea but I’ve long been an admirer of his. Looking at prints in a book or seeing his work on the computer doesn’t come any where near the impact they have up close.

His canvases are usually large, stand in front of them and you get lost in them. I’ve included a couple of pictures of his work in galleries just to give some idea of how impressive they are full size.

  I consider his work to be a natural progression from the landscape,


or a seascape,

some of his canvases are like evolved Turners.


His work conveys mood, the dark ones are like  stormy clouds on a black sky.



 Others make you ‘feel’ the joy of summer.



I’m not going to write up any sort of biography, there is loads of stuff out there to read if you want to.

These two give a pretty good history. Just look at his work and immerse yourself in it.

http://www.artrepublic.com/biographies/109-mark-rothko.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Rothko