Tag Archives: Cubism

An Intoxicating Edge – Picasso and Modern British Art

13 Feb

February is over-saturated – more snow than London can cope with, hearts filling every shop window display (no matter how tenuous the connection) on every street and more blockbuster exhibitions than we have time to see.  This week alone I have four major openings marked in my diary plus a smattering of smaller ones that may well have to wait for a later date.

Picasso & Modern British Art at Tate Britain explores Picasso’s lifelong connections with Britain through a series of dialogues with the heroes of Modern British Art, examining his critical reputation and acclaim as both a figure of controversy and celebrity.

Pablo Picasso, Nude Woman in a Red Armchair, 1932. Image via www.tate.org.uk

The exhibition can be split into two – one strand that documents the exhibition and collecting of Picasso’s art in Britain which is interleaved with ‘conversation’ rooms showcasing the British Greats responding to Picasso’s work – Duncan Grant, Wyndham Lewis, Ben Nicholson, Henry Moore, Francis Bacon, Graham Sutherland and David Hockney.  This is a veritable treasure trove for any Modern British lover like me.  Picasso’s own versatility, in part, explains the range of these responses but the exhibition also seeks to show how these artists were responding to Picasso well before he had been embraced by the British public.

Picasso first exhibited in Britain in 1910 in an exhibition organised by Roger Fry.  After explaining this, the exhibition moves straight into a room looking at his influence on Duncan Grant who adopted African inspired figures and decorative patterns and later began to respond to Cubist collages.  Grant’s work does little for me; Tate don’t even dedicate a whole room to him and he shares wall space with Wyndham Lewis.  Although Lewis was a harsh critic of Picasso throughout his life, it’s not actually known if they ever met but his work suggests that he saw Les Demoiselles.

Wyndham Lewis room at the exhibition. Own photograph.

Throughout, the exhibition looks at Picasso’s trips to London with a stunning section on the scenery and costume designs he produced for Diaghilev and Ballet Russes in 1919 when he resided at the Savoy.  During the first few weeks of this stay, Picasso sat in the corner of the Ballet Russes rehearsal rooms, drawing away while they danced.  The Three Cornered Hat was the largest ballet that Picasso worked on and his designs were not just limited to costume and set – they even extended to the accessories and make-up, which, when possible, he applied himself.

Pablo Picasso, The Three Cornered Hat, 1919-20. Own photograph.

This is not an exhibition to be taken lightly; it includes some extraordinary works many of which are loaned from private collections.  Most works have hefty wall labels – I’m not saying this is a bad thing, but this is not a show to flit through during your ten minute lunch break.  It is altogether a more serious exhibition.

Obviously, there have been more responses to Picasso than the seven studied here but those included here illustrate variety and quality over a period of more than seventy years.  It is rare to have the opportunity to view these alongside the original Picasso’s that may have influenced them.

Inside the exhibition. Own photograph.

Ben Nicholson first encountered Picasso in Paris in the 1920s and recalled a specific Picasso of 1915 which he saw as the benchmark for the qualities in his own work.  In the following decade, he developed his own distinctive version of the Cubist composition where he adopted decorative patterning, intersecting forms and made use of materials such as sand to create a more physical presence.

Ben Nicholson, 1933 (coin and musical instruments), 1933. Own photograph.

Moving on, Sutherland acknowledges his debt to Guernica; he made several works where natural objects metamorphose into figurative presences – tortured anxious works reflecting the state of England at the time.  Sketchbooks throughout the exhibition allow us to see some real gems and we are teased here with some fabulous Sutherland studies.  I only wish Tate made more use of their technological ability, offering turning pages on a screen as they did in the Vorticism show last year.

Graham Sutherland, Thorn Head, 1946. Own photograph.

The exhibition includes some fabulous and intriguing early works by Bacon and Moore.   The Bacon’s are particularly remarkable and, if you are a fan, this room if worth a visit in its own right, bringing together seven of only nine works that are known to have survived Bacon’s attempts to destroy all his pre-1944 works.  Bacon said that ‘[Picasso’s work is closer] to what I feel about the psyche of our time [than any other artist]’; it was after he saw an exhibition of Picasso’s in the late 1920s that he abandoned interior design and began painting.  It was seeing Picasso’s representations of the body as a biomorphic structure that inspired him with the possibilities this medium could offer.  It would be a pleasure to write a whole piece on this one room looking at how Bacon’s works on the theme of crucifixion echo Picasso’s The Three Dancers (which Bacon may have seen a reproduction of in 1930 in Documents) or looking at his triptych, Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion.  As Bacon’s style developed and became more distinct, the debt to Picasso became more embedded.  The two artists shared an approach that would forever tie them together.

Francis Bacon, Crucifixion/Figure, 1933 and Composition (Figure), 1933. Own photograph.

The curators decided to stop at Hockney, feeling that after this point Picasso’s influence just becomes too universal and never-ending.  The exhibition finishes with Picasso’s The Three Dancers of 1925, taking us back to the Picasso we know and love and, in turn, slightly losing the dialogue which has been so excellently explored throughout.

Peering through to Pablo Picasso, The Three Dancers, 1925. Own photograph.

The sooner Tate finish their job-lot of grey paint the better; it’s a brilliant show often dulled by the monotonous, gloomy wall colour.  The works are all so sensational that the exhibition comes together despite the somewhat tenuous nature of some of the links and comparisons.

Picasso’s climb to fame in the UK was not easy and he received much criticism along the way – in 1949, Churchill even said he would like to kick the artist up the backside.  Yet when in 1960 Tate finally mounted its first Picasso retrospective, it attracted more than 460,000 visitors in two months.  The exhibition made a profit and received positive reviews.  It appeared we had at last embraced Picasso’s Cubist ways and we’ve never really let go.

Pablo Picasso, Head of a Woman, 1924. Own photograph.

This exhibition is extensive but the works here are something to behold.  Tate really shows off some Modern British masterpieces; somewhat ironically, it is these that stay with me most and they are what I recommend you go to see.  Don’t get me wrong, the Picasso’s are brilliant but the Modern British story has an intoxicating edge aided by the influence of the Spaniard.

Walking through… Own photograph.

It’s easy to get lost in the academia of the exhibition.  I wouldn’t advise reading all the wall text or you may never get out.  Instead, admire the paintings and let the excellent catalogue tell the story in depth at a later date when you’re able to sit in the warm by a fire and not having to stand up.

This is an exhibition to allow time for; an hour and a half felt like I’d only scratched the surface.  It doesn’t have the gloss or jazz of the RA’s Hockney or the NPG’s Freud (although Hockney is, of course included here).  Instead, it is quietly brilliant.

Picasso & Modern British Art will be at Tate Britain from Wednesday until 15th July 2012, www.tate.org.uk.

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Sète Pieces – Musée Paul Valéry

16 Sep

At night, the lights of Sète shine across the étang from Marseillan.  During the day, Sète is a busy commercial port but it is also known for its art (and seafood).  You could easily spend the day exploring its four museums and numerous smaller galleries.  Sadly, I had time for only one.  The Musée Paul Valéry is named after the town’s famous poet.

Musée Paul Valéry, Sète. Own photograph.

Musée Paul Valéry has recently undergone a major refurbishment – it is nicely designed and a pleasure to walk through.  Their permanent collection focuses on local artists with a strong maritime theme but, unfortunately, it’s not up to much.  Some of the works are really rather bad and it won’t take you more than ten minutes to walk through this part of the museum.

Musée Paul Valéry, Sète. Own photograph.

Upstairs is a different story and the current exhibition, Juan Gris: rimes de la forme et de la couleur, is an unexpected delight.

Born 1887, Gris’s family had determined he would become an engineer but, contrary to their wishes, he chose a more artistic route.  Arriving in Paris in 1906, he met Picasso and numerous other influential artists of the time and witnessed the emergence of Cubism.  There is no doubt that Gris was instantly smitten although, for some years, in order to make a living, the majority of his time was given over to contributing drawings to periodicals.

Man Ray, Juan Gris in 1922. Image via http://museepaulvalery-sete.fr/

Gris watched and learnt from his artist friends.  Borrowing techniques from the analytical style of early Cubism, he broke away from the Cubist palette and distinguished himself from Picasso and Braque by introducing his own vision, working in the style of Synthetic Cubism.

Juan Gris, La vue sur la baie, 1921. Own photograph.

I was already a fan of Gris’s painting and there is no doubt that he is a successful master of composition.  His scientific mind is evident from his studies and some of his works are very minimalistic and austere.

The exhibition is extensive and follows Gris’s entire career – brief though it was.  Quotes on the wall from Gris and his contemporaries are a nice touch.  A series of unusual drawings from 1910-11 is an interesting inclusion that I hadn’t seen before.

During World War One, he developed his own syntax and his shapes are formed by an enigmatic interaction between line and colour.  Gris invites the spectator to consider the forms he has presented.  As objects balance and perch one on top of another, they vie for our attention in a subtle and understated way.  His works are not about making big bangs but taking a back seat in a powerful way.

Juan Gris, Arlequin assis à la guitare, 1919. Own photograph. 

Although still lives dominate Gris’s oeuvre, there are still characters all of whom have an identifiable aspect.  Despite these recognisable features, the ‘portraits’ have an absence of reality – they are more human prototypes than actual people.  The figures belong to a dramatised fiction, accompanied by an occasionally unsettling timeless silence.

After the war, Gris developed ‘visual rhymes’ where there was more room for metaphors of shape.  The works from 1920-25 are striking for their extreme simplicity and thick heavy outlines.  He repeatedly studies the same subject, managing to vary the method or portrayal each time with an almost poetic intuition.

Juan Gris, Personnage assis, 1920. Own photograph.

This is a large but easily palatable exhibition, spaciously hung and enjoyable to visit.  The reflections in the glass are often a problematic distraction, but this is an on-going concern of mine.

Gris was prolific – although he painted for less than 20 years, he left around 600 paintings.  This is a great introduction to the artist if you are not already familiar with him.

Directly across the road from the gallery is the Cimetière Marin – the Sailor’s Cemetery.  Perched on a cliff and facing the sea, this is one of Sète’s most famous places and has one of the most stunning views.  It also houses the grave of Paul Valéry himself.  With an impressive air of Classicism surrounding the layered tombs, it is definitely worth a visit.

Cimetière Marin, Sète. Own photograph.

Sète itself is tranquil, yet bustling and unpretentious.  If you manage to avoid the more touristy areas, it’s a charming town to visit.  I headed off on a boat to tour the canals and then once more unto the beach.  Surprise, surprise I headed back to La Ola for the rest of the afternoon to soak up some rays!

Sète. Own photograph.

Juan Gris: rimes de la forme et de la couleur is at Musée Paul Valéry until 31st October 2011, http://museepaulvalery-sete.fr/.

Top Marks to Tate Britain – The Vorticists

13 Jun

I first came across Vorticism when I was about 12 and our class art project was to produce a portrait of ourselves in the Vorticist style.  I realised at the time that it wasn’t a masterpiece (it’s somewhere in the attic and, even if I found it, I wouldn’t let you see it) and that I hadn’t quite captured the Vorticist aesthetic but then I had no idea how wrong I’d gone.  My own attempt played with the faceted angularity of Vorticism figuration, which originated from Cubism, but I had not grasped the subtle abstractions that develop this movement far beyond the previous Cubist works.  It’s lucky I decided to become an art historian, not an artist.

There is no doubt that I am a fan of this period – indeed of most 20th century British artwork – but that never normally stops me from criticising.  This exhibition, however, is spectacular, bringing together an amazing collection of artists, charting a movement that followed in the wake of Post-Impressionism, Cubism and Futurism.

The Tate Britain exhibition opens with the now-familiar Jacob Epstein sculpture, Rock Drill – a modern phallic power, a machine-like figure, astride a drill, an emblem of industry further representative of his hard phallus.  Although later emasculated in the reduced version, this work expresses the confidence and power of Britain on the brink of war.

Jacob Epstein, Torso in Metal from the ‘Rock Drill’, 1913-16.  Own photograph.

Tate have set the sculpture against a pink wall, evoking the colour of the first issue of Blast in 1914, an announcement of Vorticist ideals as well as a presentation of literary values.  Although this is one of the most iconic pieces in the exhibition, and Epstein was credited by the Vorticists, he never officially joined the group.  Instead, this sculpture shows the importance of machine aesthetics to these artists.

Jacob Epstein, Rock Drill, 1913-15.  Own photograph.

Aiming to place Vorticism in an international context, this exhibition looks at a tiny period of about two to four years, studying the impact of World War I on the Vorticists through close historical analysis.  The specificity of this exhibition looks at Vorticism in its own time, showing how quickly these artists were undermined by the reality and atrocities of war.  Many of the paintings from this time are now lost.  Imagine what may only be out there.  Indeed, the curators optimistically hope that this exhibition, the first of its kind in our internet age, may tempt some hidden gems out of our attics.

The exhibition, which works chronologically, starts with a broad introduction addressing the explosion of the avant garde and, in turn, Vorticism, in London.  Wyndham Lewis when describing the concept to a friend in 1914 said ‘Think of a whirlpool… At the heart of the whirlpool is a great silent place where all the energy is concentrated.  And there, at the point of concentration, is the Vorticist.’  Tate makes this statement clear and thus help to define this isolated movement.

Ezra Pound commissioned his close friend, Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, to carve the similarly iconic Hieratic Head of Ezra Pound, 1914, which sits proudly in the centre of the second room.  Pound’s only instruction was that the work was to be virile and Gaudier-Brzeska didn’t let him down.  Influenced by the Moai of Easter Island, Pound’s ‘back’ is depicted as a giant phallus.  Known for his direct methods of carving, Gaudier-Brzeska worked directly from the stone, without using models – you can feel his passion and energy as you look at the piece.

Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, Hieratic Head of Ezra Pound, 1914 – rear view.  Own photograph.

There really are too many masterpieces to name – the striking Bomberg paintings in room 2, the Epstein drawings that sit proudly on statement burgundy walls in the third room.  Tate have done this well.  The exhibition seems to get a sense of artists’ individual characters, with rooms focusing on singular figures, such as Epstein, in this dimly lit exploration of a number of his sculptures.

David Bomberg, The Mud Bath, 1914.  Own photograph.

The summer of 1915 heralded the first Vorticist exhibition at the Doré Galleries in London where six artists were invited to show alongside seven of the eleven original Vorticists; Jessica Dismorr, Frederick Etchells, Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, Wyndham Lewis, William Roberts, Helen Saunders and Edward Wadsworth.  The exhibition was a culmination a series of modern art exhibitions in London and was one of the most pronounced demonstrations of Vorticism.  For me, Gaudier-Brzeska is the star of this section of the exhibition.  His large dynamic works are shown alongside miniscule sculptures next to sensitive studies from his sketchbooks.  The display of one of his sketchbooks is brilliantly done – shown in a cabinet, a (badly lit) screen to the right shows a man flicking through the pages so we can appreciate every sheet rather than experience the usual yearning we are left with when such books are displayed.   I do hope this is something we begin to see more of.

Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, Doorknocker, 1914.  Own photograph.

Gaudier-Brzeska was killed in the trenches aged only 23 and was already dead by the time of this 1915 exhibition, a powerful reminder of the times in which the Vorticists were working.  His death was announced in the second (and last) issue of Blast which also included an article he had written earlier.

The same room also has a work by Wyndham Lewis, the self-proclaimed leader of the movement – The Crowd from 1914-15.  This ingenious abstract composition suggests a modern city.  Individual figures lose their sense of individuality as they too become rigid structures.

Wyndham Lewis, The Crowd, 1914-15.  Own photograph.

The final room, in two sections, brings us to 1917 looking at the Penguin Club exhibition of that year, the last in the Vorticists’ ‘lifetime’, and the ‘vortographs’ of Alvin Langdon Coburn, an innovator and creative photographer.  The strong wall colours split the room with the photographic pieces hung on a powerful blue.  Here, my favourite works have to be the Wadsworth woodcuts – tiny images dealing initially with industrial towns from the North of England where Wadsworth explores and exploits the potential of the texture and contrast of his medium.

Alvin Langdon Coburn works.  Own photograph.

The War was a source of inspiration for many of these artists, most of whom also fought for their country.  The sombre feeling of the exhibition perfectly captures the environment in which they were working.  Big names successfully mix with those who are lesser known, including the female artists Dorothy Shakespear and Helen Saunders whose powerful compositions and use of colour is most striking.

Dorothy Shakespear, Composition in Blue and Black, 1914-15.  Image via www.artmonthly.co.uk

Vorticism has a distinctive look and an inherent aesthetic; the works are abstract expressions of a grey and gloomy time.  They show the subtle traffic of ideas from Europe and the continent through which the Vorticists forged their own distinctive style and ideas – ideas brilliantly explored in the catalogue that traces the movement’s connections with both New York and Europe.  Although, the Vorticists were a resolutely English group, they were influenced by worldwide trends and had a diverse heritage – Epstein was an American Jew, Gaudier-Brzeska originated from France, Lewis was Canadian-born and Ezra Pound, their spokesperson, was American.  A cosmopolitan England – today’s England.

Yes, I had a few of my usual moans – some of the grey paint I disliked so intensely in the Miró show seems to have come out of the cupboard again and some of the labels are peculiarly placed at the back of the sculptures but, overall, Tate haven’t tried to jazz this up – it is a beautifully curated selection of stunning and important art works.  It is clearly and concisely laid out – you can walk around the sculptures, walk through the rooms without obstruction and understand the development of the movement.

The War ended and with it Vorticism – one of its many casualties.  The main problem with Vorticism is that too few people know about this short-lived movement and this exhibition and catalogue should help to change that.  Too few works survive but the energy, talent and sheer vivacity of these artists, despite the horrific times in which they worked, shines through.  It is a brilliant exhibition, bringing these genii to the forefront.  Bravo Tate.

The Vorticists: Manifesto for a Modern World opens tomorrow until 4th September 2011 at Tate Britain, http://www.tate.org.uk.

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