Sunday, May 29, 2011

unconsciously brilliant


"The unconscious should not be thought of as a limbo where vague, cloudy, and amorphous notions swim hastily about. There is every reason to believe, on the contrary, that it is the great home of form; that it is quicker to see types, patterns, purposes, than our intellect can ever be...[I]f you are to write well, you must come to terms with the enormous and powerful part of your nature which lies behind the threshold of immediate knowledge."

Words: Becoming a Writer -- Dorothea Brande, 1934
Image: Dream Vision -- Albrecht Dürer, 1525 (Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna)

Saturday, May 21, 2011

that lunatic impressionist gang


(More Suite101 blog reposts....)

The French Impressionists initially had to organize their own exhibits because the official Paris Salon wouldn’t consistently accept their works. When those indie shows were reviewed by certain art critics of the day, the feedback could be downright nasty. While some admired their new perspective, others sniped how:

“Here five or six lunatics deranged by ambition -- one of them a woman -- have put together an exhibition…They take canvas, paint and brushes, splash on a few daubs of color here and there at random, then sign the result. The inmates of the Ville-Evrard Asylum behave in much the same way…Try telling M Pissarro that trees are not purple, or the sky the colour of butter…Try to explain to M Renoir that a woman’s torso is not a rotting mass of flesh, with violet-toned green spots all over it...There is also, as in all famous gangs, a woman. Her name is Berthe Morisot, and she is a curiosity. She manages to convey a certain degree of feminine grace in spite of her outbursts of delirium.”

That was critic Albert Wolff behind that 1876 rampage, and as a result of it, Berthe Morisot‘s husband Eugene (also painter Edouard Manet‘s brother) challenged Wolff to a duel, though I don’t think any swords were ever drawn or pistols fired. Clearly, Mr. Wolff would be horrified by the crowds who still flock to museums to view French Impressionist paintings, and by all the Monet tote bags and Degas and Renoir calendars for sale in the gift shops.

Wolff’s tirade is included in Sue Roe’s very interesting and smoothly flowing The Private Lives of The Impressionists (HarperCollins). The book gives factual and biographical information, but it also heightens the personalities and friendships of the artists so that it reads more like a novel. Definitely worth checking out.

(Pictured: Buttery sky by Camille Pissarro -- Apple Pickers at Eragny, 1888 -- Dallas Museum of Art)

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

painting of the month


White Shoes -- Eva Gonzales, ca. 1879

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

the mystery guest


Born May 11, 1904 (d. 1989), Surrealist Salvador Dalí knew how to market himself and his work and was never too reticent or aloof to miss a worthwhile opportunity to get his wild eyes and curious mustache out there. He seemed to really love the spectacle and drama part of being an artist, and if he were still with us he’d no doubt be delighted to learn that you can find his 1950s What's My Line? appearance on YouTube, along with a few other interesting Dalí TV moments. You can see in the What’s My Line? clip how Dalí easily maintains his somewhat perplexed poise throughout the questioning, then how he’s sure to suavely kiss the hands of all the women on the panel as he goes over to introduce himself.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

pigeons, pollock and other talented creatures


Again, our Suite101 Feature Writer blogs are due to be shut down soon so I'm reposting some of the entries here....

There are new and unusual schools of art -- and then there are the spoofs that follow. Click here to see if you can recognize the works of either some spirited and colorful chimps or bonafide human painters. Back in 1964, the canvases of an emerging French talent named Pierre Brassau came upon the art scene in Sweden, with one critic praising Brassau's style as having the “delicacy of a ballet dancer.” Pierre eventually turned out to be a chimp named Peter from the zoo, who probably didn’t even get any of the money earned from the sale of his stuff before the big revelation. This same website also gives you the chance to guess whether you’re looking at a Pollock or some abstractly messy pigeon crap -- or if you want to get literary, whether text is oddly computer-generated German translation or actual William Faulkner prose.

(Pictured: Study of Birds and Monkey, J. van Kessel, circa 1660)