Endless Horizons

John Brack, 'The Car', 1955. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne.

The Royal Academy in London recently hosted a wonderful exhibition of Australian art. To wander through the galleries was to walk through a retrospective of Australian history, with illustrations. (The exhibition closed on 8th Dec 2013). I was left feeling both enlightened and homesick, and clutching a large catalogue.

Here's some extracts from the Academy's website. The curator chose the theme of 'landscape' to unify things, and a very good choice it was too. Those endless horizons...

Eugene von Guérard, 'Bush Fire Between Mt Elephant and Timboon, 1857', 1859. Art Gallery of Ballarat.

John Glover, 'A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, in Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land', 1835. Art Gallery of South Australia . 

Rover Thomas (Joolama) 'Cyclone Tracey' 1991. National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

The exhibition was so rich that it's impossible, with just a few examples, to do it justice. Just about every Australian artist of any significance was represented. The early colonialists (including my favourite John Glover) were there, with their very European reactions to the landscape. The Aboriginal artists were very strongly represented, and wonderfully curated with excellent explanations of the various schools and how they arose. Off 200 works, one third were by indigenous artists. Then the nineteenth century big guns, all the names (Roberts, McCubbin, Streeton, Drysdale), and so into the twentieth century. Three of Sidney Nolan's 'Ned Kelly' series were hung (though go to the National Gallery in Canberra and see (up to) 25 of them together for the full impact).

Russell Drysdale, 'The Drover’s Wife', c.1945. National Gallery of Australia, Canberra 

Max Dupain, 'Sunbaker', 1937. National Gallery of Australia, Canberra.

Perhaps the most talked-about painting was John Brack's 'The Car' from 1955, but many other twentieth century big names were also shown: Authur Boyd, Grace Cossington-Smith, Fred Williams, John Olsen, Brett Whiteley, Max Dupain...a cornucopia. I found the exhibition a little weak as it wended its way to the very present day, but perhaps just a bit more perspective is needed on the recent works.

However, let me add some kudos for the video work that opened the exhibition as you walked in: Shaun Gladwell's 'Approach to Mundi Mundi'. He sits on a motorcycle and rides straight along a straight road in a flat landscape, the horizon stretching as far as the eye can see. When you arrive at the Sidney Nolan 'Kelly' paintings and contemplate that one where Ned is riding in a similar landscape, the links are obvious.

At this point perhaps the sentimental amongst us (including homesick Australians) should break into a rendition os Dorothea MacKellar's "I Love A Sunburnt Country"...I jest. A bit.

Still from Shaun Gladwell's 'Approach to Mundi Mundi'

A bad reproduction of Sidney Nolan's 'Ned Kelly', but you get the drift....

And the reviews? Mixed, it seems. The ones that the Academy likes to quote:
"Not just a long overdue show but a powerfully atmospheric evocation of a country seen from myriad facets" - The Times

"Australia’s most treasured art comes to London for the biggest show yet seen in UK" - The Guardian

"★★★★ Detailed, comprehensive, omniscient, in places beautiful” The Daily Telegraph

But apparently some reviewers found it necessary to dis the whole lot. While I can sympathise with comments about the limitations of such review-style exhibitions - it was often disappointing to see only one or two works by the really big names - that's inherent in the type of exhibition. Yes, it would be great to see an RA exhibition showcasing just one great Australian artist periodically - as they so often do for, shall we say, 'less-great' Europeans - but they just don't do it. Here's The Guardian's review - displaying not very much knowledge of Australian art history, and agreeing with me on the contemporary stuff.

Brett Whiteley 'Big Orange (Sunset)' 1974

The Fourth Estate

"The Fourth Estate',  Giuseppe Pellizza da Volpedo (1901)

This fascinating painting hangs as an introductory and special exhibition on your way into the  Museo del Novecento, which houses twentieth-century Italian art. The Novecento site tells us:

Opening the Museo del Novecento with The Fourth Estate by Giuseppe Pellizza da Volpedo means attesting to a divide more than preparing the visitor for what he or she is about to see in the rooms that follow. The purpose of this painting, which was completed in 1901, was to celebrate the ideals of humanitarian socialism using the theme of a procession of workers advancing and the pictorial technique of scientifically-based Divisionism; but it also marked the final important episode, for Italy’s figurative civilization, in artwork as program, thereby characterized by a search for a superior and concomitant clarity of form and content. But that was not all. The Fourth Estate also identified the end of a season in which the painter’s trade was governed by a respectful, almost natural coming to terms with the museum (here, in particular, the reference is to Raphael’s School of Athens, whose cartoon Pellizza had studied at the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana), based on the belief that historic styles traced a continuity that was not just formal but also ideal between past and present.

The painting is an interesting example of the 'socialist ideal' school, painted quite early (well before the rise of Lenin and his crew, for example). The advancing workers are characterised by some as strikers. The point it marks in Italian history is an interesting as the point it marks in art history. The technique used - "Divisionism" - can't really be appreciated from a reproduction, but up-close-in-real-life you can see that the colours are all formed not by mixed but by the very careful placements of lines of colours next to each other, giving a subtle, and surprisingly gentle, result. The painting. by the way, is very big - 293 cm × 545 cm. The Novecento has devoted a great deal of research to this painting, and it includes and exhibition of the artist's preparatory drawings and sketches. The website goes on"

Notwithstanding its ambitiousness, the painting attracted little attention at the time: when it was first displayed at the 1902 Turin exhibition it was neither purchased by the royals (the subject was obviously a sensitive one) nor was it awarded the Premio degli Artisti. The great disappointment that came with these failures contributed to the artist’s deep crisis, which culminated in his committing suicide just a few years later.  After entering the Civiche Gallerie by public subscription in 1920 at a time when Milan was led by a Socialist council and the political climate seemed to be ripe for the concrete prospect of revolution, The Fourth Estate, especially in the aftermath of the Second World War, was considered to be on a par with a manifesto-painting of the ideals of the Left, whether reformist or revolutionary. Hence, for a great deal of time it was denied the status of representing a crucial episode in the history of Italian art, until its lofty pictorial values were reestablished with its restoration and permanent display at the Galleria d’Arte Moderna as of 1980.

 The painting was originally entitled 'The Path of Workers', and the artist had dealt with a similar theme in earlier works such as 'Ambassadors of Hunger', 'Stream of People' and a preparatory sketch of 1898, 'The Path of Workers.' It's said that the inclusion of a woman int he front-line of the workers was ground-breaking in its day. Whatever the politics of it, the painting is incredibly effective in suggesting that a crowd of people is about to walk straight out at you.

Wiki gives a short potted bio of the painter, Pellizza:

Giuseppe Pellizza da Volpedo (July 28, 1868 – June 14, 1907) was an Italian neo-impressionist painter. He was born and died in Volpedo, in the Piedmont region of northern Italy. He was a pupil of Pio Sanquirico. Pellizza used a divisionist technique in which a painting is created by juxtaposing small dots of paint according to specific colour theory. His most famous work, Il Quarto Stato ("The Fourth Estate"), has become a well-known symbol for progressive and socialist causes in Italy, and throughout Europe. The painting is shown during the opening credits of Bernardo Bertolucci's film 1900.

Have a look at this blog by Settimio Benedusi and the moving photograph he's made below. Pellizza might have been impressed?

Settimio Benedusi.

Museo del Novecento

Umberto Boccioni's "Unique Forms of Continuity in Space, 1913" -- striding into Futurism (source)

The Museo del Novecento in Milan provides a stunning counterpoint for the more venerable works of art in the city - the religious art in the Brera, Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper" - it's rather brash to expect twentieth century art to compete for attention. But the Movecento has been doing this since December 2011. Housed in a Mussolini-era building, Palazzo dell’Arengario, on Piazza Duomo, opposite the famous Galleria (which it's architecture mimics) and with the recently-cleaned facade of the glorious Duomo right next door, you'd wonder how this museum of twentieth-century Italian art could compete. It does, by being completely true to its mission. In here, all is modern and all (just about) is Italian. Here's their mission statement:

Museo del Novecento (Museum of the Twentieth Century), located in the Palazzo dell'Arengario, is a public venue dedicated to Milan's collection of Twentieth-Century Art....
To encourage the development of multiple perspectives and critical capabilities through the dissemination of knowledge about twentieth-century art. To conserve, study and promote public heritage and the artistic culture of the twentieth century through research and educational activities. To encourage, through work on various levels, an intercultural approach and involve a public that ranges from specialists to children and passing visitors. (source)

This passing visitor was duly impressed. After a small vestibule with a few non-Italian treasures (Picasso, Modigliani) to introduce the twentieth century, we're then led through several layers of gallery by the rather good audio guide, with explanations about the artists (often from Milan) and their significance. Various phases and fads in modern art are exemplified (and explained) as you make your way up the building - and into the building behind, the Palazzo Reale, where the gallery continues. Futurism, the Novecento, Spatialism, Arte Povera...learn all about it. Meet some artists you know and some you may not have heard of before -- Boccioni, Carrà, Soffici, de Chirico, Sironi, Martini, Morandi, Fontana, Manzoni, Kounellis -- who played their part in these Italian movements.

Lucio Fontana's installation at the top of the spiral ramp.

Speaking of the building, it has been rather spectacularly altered to house this museum: although the exterior remains untouched, inside a large spiral ramp has been installed, in blue and white, visible from the Piazza through the windows of the building, and itself giving wide views of the Duomo and Galleria below. On the top floor, the windows are floor-to-ceiling, and the space is used to display neon-light installations by Lucio Fontana. Here's the website description of the building:

Palazzo dell’Arengario (source)

The transformation of the Palazzo dell’Arengario into the Museo del Novecento, directed by Italo Rota and Fabio Fornasari, had the fundamental objective of creating a simple and linear museum system within a historical building. Another aim was to optimise the use of available space and evoke a powerful and appealing image of the building and the new museum, thereby transforming it into one of Milan’s leading cultural centres. Within the vertical space of the tower, there is a system for ascending the structure by means of a spiral ramp leading from the underground level to the panoramic terrace facing Piazza Duomo. The monumental staircase, the terrace and the splendid covered balcony is now part of an itinerary that offers both Milanese and tourists a unique view of Piazza Duomo. The Arengario is connected directly to the second floor of the Palazzo Reale by means of a suspended walkway. This discrete and minimalistic structure is not simply a bridge between two buildings, but also a means of discovering the fascinating historical stratification of the buildings in the area between Via Rastrelli and Piazza Diaz.

Come on up...

...and take a stroll through some of the works on display (images from the Museo's website):

Napoleon's Pictures

Giovanni Bellini's 'Pieta' (c. 1460)

The Brera Gallery in Milan is a treasure trove of Italian religious art, leavened with some very good eighteenth century Romantic pieces. Wiki gives the history of the Gallery and its associated schools, and the page shows a great selection of the works. There's no doubt this is one of the principal art galleries in Milan -- but why is there an enormously over-sized statue of Napoleon in the courtyard, and why such an emphasis on religious art?

The Wiki entry for the gallery says, rather coyly: "the Academy acquired the first paintings of its pinacoteca during the reassignment of works of Italian art that characterized the Napoleonic era." In fact the Gallery is founded on over 400 works removed from churches and convents that were suppressed in the Napoleonic period. They include works by G da Fabriano, P. della Francesca, Bramante, Crivelli, Raphael, Bellini, Caravaggio, Veronese, Tintoretto, Tiziano, Rubens and Van Dyck. The Euromuse site expands on this fascinating quirk in Italy's history:

One of the leading public galleries in Italy, the Brera differs from those in Florence, Rome, Naples, Turin, Modena, and Parma in that its origins lie not in the collections of the nobility, princes or courts, but in the cultural politics of the state in the Napoleonic era, reflecting the democratic concepts of the French Revolution. 

Like the Gallerie dell'Accademia in Venice and the Pinacoteca in Bologna, the Brera was originally founded as an appendage, for didactic ends, to an academy of fine arts. However, the Milanese gallery soon took a different direction and, to meet the political requirements of the capital city of Kingdom of Italy, was transformed into a large modern national museum in which works of all the schools of paintings of the conquered territories could be safely preserved to be studied and compared, and to be seen by the public at large.... 

In 1805, when Napoleon was crowned king of Italy, it was decreed that works of art requisitioned in the departments of the kingdom should be brought to the Academy in Milan, where those by the most famous artists would be displayed in the gallery. Additions to the collections in 1850 included the 'Brera Alterpiece' by Piero della Francesca, the 'Pietà' by Giovanni Bellini and a number of paintings acquired from the famous Galleria Sampieri of Bologna. In the same period numerous detached frescoes were brought to the gallery from various churches; today the gallery has what is possibly the largest collection of this kind.

Although the Gallery moved on from this period and continued to expand its collection (including a bequest of 20th century art), Napoleon's plundering of the churches forms the core of the works on display, and explains that curious religious bent -- and the scraps of frescoes shorn from their original walls.

Lamentation of Christ (Mantegna) by Andrea Mantegna. c. 1480

One of the most famous attractions in the Gallery is Mantegna's Cristo Morto (mentioned by this blog earlier). (Full name: Lamentation of Christ (Mantegna) by Andrea Mantegna. c. 1480). The painting is known for its odd perspective on the dead Christ, emphasised in the Gallery by its being hung at about knee-level in a darkened room. It's displayed near Giovanni Bellini's 'Pieta' (c. 1460), another very moving portrait of the grief of Christ's mother.

Piero della Francesca, 'Holy Conversation' c. 1472–1474

Amongst several other highlights, there's a Piero della Francesca, 'Holy Conversation' c. 1472–1474 -- strange and haunting figures; and 'The Marriage of the Virgin' by Raphael c. 1504 (with a building in the background looking remarkably like the the Bramante chapel in Todi.).

'The Marriage of the Virgin' by Raphael. c. 1504

But perhaps you find room after room of religious themes can drag a bit after a while? Yet another allegorical story? Yet another Madonna? But every now and then, one of the huge canvases (originally adorning massive cathedrals), the work of a genius will leap out at you. Even if you've never concerned yourself with art history, there are some painters or paintings that just clearly go that one level more. One such in the Brera is Ruben's 'Last Supper' (1630-31). The vigorous flowing lines, the look on the face of Judas as he stares out of the frame directly at you, the dog lying under the table (more faithful than the man?) Genius.

Ruben's 'Last Supper' (1630-31)

As your visit to the Brera winds to its conclusion, you reach the nineteenth century works, and possibly the most reproduced of all the pictures in the Gallery - 'The Kiss' by Francesco Hayez (1859), a ridiculously Romantic effort, but no less well-loved for that.

The Gallery's history has not been without its drama. Euromuse tells us of another struggle in the 20th century: "When Franco Russoli became director in 1973, the Gallery had suffered from twenty years of inadequate funding, poor maintenance and lack of space. He brought this situation dramatically to public attention in 1974 by closing the Gallery; the positive outcome was the launching of the 'Grande Brera' project, which aimed to enlarge the Gallery by making use of the 18th-century Palazzo Citterio, together with some rebuilding of the Brera itself."

And so, having contemplated it all from Napoleon to 'Il Bacio', your visit is done.

'The Kiss' by Francesco Hayez (1859) 

Francesco Hayez, palette in hand, outside the Brera.

Pictures of the paintings are from the Wiki site.

America Windows

Detail, Marc Chagall's 'America Windows'.

Wandering through the wonderful Chicago Art Institute the other day, followed the corridors from the old wing (the ex-World's Congress Building from the Chicago World's Fair of 1893) to the spectacular piece of architecture that is the Modern Wing - opened in 2009 and Designed by Pritzker Prize–winning Italian architect Renzo Piano. I paused on my way, at the juncture where the two buildings meet, to admire a set of luminous blue stained glass windows. These were Marc Chagall's 'America Windows', purpose made for the Art Institute and recently reinstalled. They were new to me, though I've admired Chagall's stained glass in churches, such as Zurich's Grossmüster and Frauenkirsch. These windows int eh museum are lovely things, beautifully lit. I looked them up:

Marc Chagall’s America Windows were a gift to the Art Institute of Chicago created by the artist for their specific context. Long a favourite of visitors, the searingly blue light creates a powerful background for the moments and events that occur across the piece...Removed to protect the pieces during the construction of the Modern Wing, the pieces were extensively conserved, and a new context was required that could better protect the pieces from the effects of temperature and humidity.

The new location allowed implementation of integrated systems that carefully address every aspect of the conservation and presentation of the system. Vinci Hamp Architects coordinated a team of structural, M&E and fire safety engineers along with Lux Populi to integrate what is, perhaps, the most refined light box around. The studies included photometric studies to ensure evenness of the illumination without flattening out the perceived depth of the piece (observe how most stain glass windows in museums appear flat), optimum colour temperature and rendition to best reveal the tones and elements of the piece, elimination of edge effects, thermal moderation to prevent condensate or thermal cracking and numerous other aspects.
Marc Chagall. America Windows, 1977. A gift of Marc Chagall, City of Chicago, and the Auxiliary Board, commemorating the American bicentennial in memory of Mayor Richard J.Daley.

Here's a bio of Marc Chagall, who was born in Belarus (then the Russian Empire) in 1887.

Renzo Piano's Modern Wing of the Chicago Art Institute.

Saint Cecilia Revisited

Saint Cecilia - Stefano Maderno, 1599-1600

This blog has explored the story of Saint Cecilia before - following the tale told in the lovely frescoes of the Bentivoglio Chapel in Bologna. But to round out the story, I couldn't resist visiting a couple of the saint’s holy sites in Rome.

Frescoes in the Catacombs.
Early 9th century.

Deep underground in the Catacombs of Saint Callixtus is a space where Saint Cecilia’s body is said to have rested. The ancient man-made cave in which this space is located has been hollowed out and enlarged several times to accommodate all the pilgrims who wished to visit. The walls still have traces of ancient frescoes.

Saint Cecilia’s remains have long since been removed to her Basilica in Trastevere, but in the niche in the Catacombs is a replica of the sculpture of the saint by Stefano Maderno. The original was made in 1599-1600.

Copy of the Maderno sculpture in the catacombs of Saint Callixtus.

Wiki tells us that:

Stefano Maderno is best known for the seemingly unposed, naturalistic recumbent marble of Santa Cecilia in the Church of Santa Cecilia in Trastevere (1599–1600). The sculpture was a counter-statement to the current dry and hectic complications of Mannerism, to which it confronted a simple sweeping outline and a stark pose. This is not a sanitized hagiographical representation of a saint, but the graphic representation of an uncorrupted corpse, claimed to be positioned just as it had been found. The saint's tomb had been opened in 1599, and Cardinal Paolo Emilio Sfondrato commissioned Maderno, aged 23 at the time, to recreate the martyr's body in marble. 

Basilica of Saint Cecilia in Trastevere, Rome.

Over in Trastevere, not only do Saint Cecilia’s remains (and some of her husband, St Valerian) rest in the crypt of the Basilica bearing her name, the church also has the original of the Maderno sculpture - a luminous white thing, remarkably modern in style. Cecilia lies forward on her face, her hair and face covered by a cloth, her white neck showing the axe wound that finally killed her, after several miraculous escapes from death. Her fingers form a ‘secret’ Christian symbol: 1, 2, 3 -- the Trinity. Here's Wiki again:

The pavement in front of the statue encloses a marble slab with Maderno's sworn statement that he has recorded the body as he saw it when the tomb was opened in 1599. The statue depicts the three axe strokes described in the 5th-century account of her martyrdom. It also is meant to underscore the incorruptibility of her cadaver (an attribute of some saints), which miraculously still had congealed blood after centuries. 

Hmmm....

"Behold the body of the most holy virgin, Cecilia, whom I myself saw lying uncorrupt in her tomb. I have in this marble expressed for thee the same saint in the very same posture and body."

The day that I visited Saint Cecilia’s Basilica in Trastevere, the Benedictine nuns were singing an afternoon service for Saint Martin’s Day (but he’s another story), their wavering and rather tuneless voices drifting up into the church rafters. Saint Cecilia is the patron saint of music, so 'm sure she'll appreciate the effort. BTW, this site suggests that "the origin of this seems to be found in the antiphon taken from her Acts: “As the musical instruments (at her wedding feast) were playing, Cecilia sung (in her heart) to the Lord, saying: ‘May my heart remain unsullied, so that I be not confounded’.” 

The Basilica dates from the 5th century, rebuilt in 822. Tradition has it that it is built where Saint Cecilia lived, before her career took a nose-dive to martyrdom. She lived in Trastevere? Who would have thought?

St Martin's Day in the Basilica of Saint Cecilia, Trastevere.

And more Contemporary Art.

Duane Hansen 'Bus Stop Lady' (1983) USA. Uncanny.

Some more highlights from the Venice Biennale, this time from the Arsenale site, where a few more countries were represented, including Italy and China. There was also room after room in the old industrial complex of individual artists - much higher-quality stuff (IMHO) than the Giardini Central Pavilion. See what you think...

Daniel Hesidence 'Untitled - Maritime Spring' (2012) - USA.
One of the rare 2D offerings. Rich marine colours.

Not entirely sure (forgot to take a note of the artist), but striking.

Walls and walls of comic book pages. I read few. Religious themes.
The artist might be saying something by putting comic pages on the wall. But they'd be much easier to peruse in comic book format.

Shinichi Sawada 'Untitled - Spiked Face'. (2000 - 2007) Japan.
One of a cabinet of similar figures. Highly textured clay, and strangely Japanese.

Pawel Althamer 'Venetians' (2013) Polish, I think.
There was a whole room full of these people, carefully made. Spooky. 

John DeAndrea 'Ariel II' (2011) USA.
This is painted bronze. An uncanny texture.

Charles Ray, 'Fall '91' (1992).
This is blurry because the guy with the fan was yelling "no photo!" Ironically, it was him
standing beside the work that attracted me to take a photo, because you could see the odd scale.

Prabhavathi Meppayil 'Untitled' (2011) India.
Copper wire embedded in gesso. The artist, a woman, works with Indian jewellery craftsmen.
Minimalist, quiet, deep.

Walter De Maria 'Apollo's Ecstasy' (1990)
This artist is big in "Land Art" - kilometres of concrete walls, metal rods in the desert, that sort of thing.

Akram Zaatari 'Letter to a Refusing Pilot' (Lebanon Pavilion)
A video work I actually liked. Highly political, makes a clear an important statement, and uses 'The Little Prince'.
And not in a darkened room.

Yup. Kosovo.
This was followed by a large installation made of tree branches that you could walk into. It had peepholes that showed you women's clothing on hangers in a white room. *more information needed*

This was in the Kosovo pavilion too, Masterful draughtsmanship and precise and elegant lighting.

I don't know what's going on, but clearly something very dramatic. Life-sized. The Indonesian Pavilion.

An olfactory - and colourful - piece in a combined South American space.

From the Pavilion of the Bahamas, which was - I thought ironically - concerned entirely with Polar themes.
Artist Tavares Strachan. This piece - one of many different ones - is an example of the fairly popular (and clever) technique of using of tiny images to make a bigger one (in this case, the big image os a polar bear.) 

Yes, a piece of Polar ice. Pavilion of the Bahamas.
There was also a companion piece - 'fake Polar ice'.

Elisabetta Benassi 'The Dry Salvages' (2013). Italian Pavilion.
An uneven floor (you can walk on it) of 10,000 bricks made of clay from a flood plain and stamped
with the codes of the largest pieces of space debris still in orbit. And a T S Eliot poem referenced in there, too.
Monumental, carefully made, and thought-provoking. All the best qualities. Though you do need the explanation.

Shu Yong 'Guge Bricks 1500' (2013) China.
The artist took 1,500 slogans, words, maxims and quotations from Chinese and translated them into English
with Google Translate. Then he printed the results on paper and stuck them to these bricks. As above.

Li Wei 'Floating over Venice' (2013) - a performance.
In the Republic of Kenya Pavilion (in a Venetian office building).
This photo is a result, presumably, of the performance.