Learning Lowry

Working on a school project with my 7 year old has been a great opportunity for me to learn more about an artist that, I have to confess, I knew relatively little about before: Laurence Stephen Lowry. 

“Lowry painted stick men and factories,” she tells me one day on the walk home from school. With paint on her uniform she excitedly explains that it’s ok that some of her picture got smudged, “it now looks more abstract"! At home, I open her bag and see she has been asked to do an independent project all about Lowry. As an art historian, I am pleased to see her school is basing a topic around a painter, but I am also a little embarrassed as I know relatively little about him. 

We start researching Lowry paintings and I am disappointed that not one of his northern working towns are on display in London. There is a self-portrait at the National Portrait Gallery which we go and look at. In it, Lowry has red eyes which my daughter immediately tells me is because he is sad. She is right. Lowry painted this work when his mother was dying. It is actually called ‘The Man with Red Eyes' and we read that he later added an inscription to the back; ‘The Artist aged 51’. We notice he looks rather smart if not a little scary and my daughter compares his tie to a factory chimney. 

My daughter next to L.S. Lowry’s ‘The Man with the Red Eyes’ 1938

At home we continue our Lowry adventure by listening to the song ‘Matchstalk Men and Matchstalk Cats and Dogs’ over and over again whilst researching. Michael Coleman and Kevin Parrott’s folk tune, written 2 years after the artist’s death, is charming, heart felt and authentic, much like Lowry’s paintings. We learn about Lowry working as a rent collector by day, looking after his mother and then painting in his attic by night. His scenes of the industrial north are simple but truthful, populated by workers who are busy getting on with their lives. To me, Lowry remained true to his subject, technique and himself. We discover he used only 5 colours: ivory black, flake white, vermilion, yellow ochre and Prussian blue. We immerse ourselves further by watching ‘Mrs Lowry and Son’. We agree that he must have been a strong character to continue painting his England the way he wanted. 

L.S. Lowry ‘The Mill, Pendlebury’ 1943

And then, bingo! Christies’ Modern British Art Evening Sale on 21 January 2020 includes a “Lost Lowry”. 

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-50889926

LOT 12, Laurence Stephen Lowry, R.A. ‘The Mill, Pendlebury’ belonged to Leonard D Hamilton. A scientist who played a key role in the discovery of the structure of DNA, he moved to America where the painting remained for more than 70 years until his death last summer. We head up for a viewing. And, wow, it’s the first painting we see after climbing the pristine staircase of the King’s Street auction house. Against a dark blue wall, Lowry’s white paint seems to almost effervesce and we start observing the matchstick people - it’s a Sunday and they are busy enjoying themselves: running, chatting, playing cricket, walking their dogs. We agree the painting is a little smaller than we imagined. Other people stop to look at the work: the staff are helpful and welcoming to everyone. My daughter makes her own notes and sketches. I feel very privileged to be looking at this painting and I know my daughter will probably remember this experience for years to come. We then head down to the cafe. Imagine our surprise when we see the backdrop to the cafe is a large reproduction of the very same painting!  A few days later it’s reported that Lowry’s painted mill has sold for £2,651,250, exceeding all expectations. 

The Cafe at Christie’s

Our Lowry journey has been both exciting and rewarding. We have witnessed him grieving, caught a glimpse at a lost painting, listened to a song inspired by the artist as well as watching a film about his relationship with his mother.  Our discoveries will stay with me and my daughter forever. Lowry is alive for us even if the England he painted has changed completely. 

Shifting Fashion: Mary Quant’s Kings Road

Last night, whilst enjoying my aperol spritz and cicchetti at one of my favourite restaurants near Sloane Square, I tried to picture the cool and fashionable Kings Road of the 1960s. Aware of its historical and cultural significance for 20th-century artists and designers, I have always loved this street in Chelsea. Having said that, I don’t think I’ve ever taken the time to properly imagine what it would have been like to be me on the King’s road in its heyday. 

Fortunately, I have already had some help from the V&A and its fabulous current Mary Quant exhibition. Transported to a bustling and creative world with colourful and striking shift dresses, mini-skirts, macs, shoes, tights and makeup, the show brings the iconic Kings Road to life with its displays and staging. Living in London in 2019 it could seem a little difficult to fully appreciate that what Quant was doing 60 years ago was in any way revolutionary. But times were different then. Politics aside, Quant wanted to bring fashion to the people. 

Opening her own small, self-service boutique which she named ‘Bazaar’ in 1955 on the King’s Road, Quant’s driving force was to design clothes for real women. Cutting fabrics that she bought nightly in Harrods, she made clothes with herself in mind, clothes that would appeal to all women and clothes that couldn’t be found elsewhere. Inspired by Pop Art and schoolgirl playfulness, her designs were for modern women, women that were becoming liberated. Quant was part of this liberating moment. 

Breaking away from the dominance of Paris, Quant’s Bazaar offered affordable fashions to ordinary people. With the boutique scene quickly exploding, young people flocked to see and ‘be seen' at vibrant new stores opening on London’s Kings Road and Carnaby Street. Slim-fitting, brightly coloured outfits helped create the image of Swinging London with Mary Quant’s mini-skirt earning its place as the decade's most iconic look. 

It was real women that were buying and wearing Quant’s designs and the show acknowledges this by taking us on a journey down Quant’s Kings Road, telling us the stories behind the garments displayed. This is really highlighted by the inclusion of the pieces that were crowd-sourced from a national appeal, #WeWantQuant. Caroline Hopper’s pink cotton blouse, for example, was bought straight out of Bazaar’s shop window to impress her geologist boyfriend on his return from Antarctica. Quant’s designs and fashion brand - and how great is that iconic daisy graphic - had clearly become main stream and cool at the same time.  

Showcasing over 200 garments, accessories and cosmetics including sketches and photographs from the designer’s personal archive, the show is a must for anyone interested in design, fashion, or popular culture. For me, Quant’s bold colours and cuts, her branding, as well as her ambition to make fashion fun, affordable and liberating makes her just as relevant today as she was 60 years ago. Her designs too have stood the test of time. Last night, in my colourful shift dress paired with my newly purchased Quant-inspired earrings, I can still see her influence on the Kings Road.    

Mary Quant Retrospective’ on at the V&A until 16 February 2020. 

https://www.vam.ac.uk/exhibitions/mary-quant

Pocket Romper-Dress 1966 worn by Deborah Cherry

‘A Crate Full of Quant’ 1966

Mary Quant, Alexander Plunket Greene and nine models © John Adriaan

Lee Krasner: The Hidden Jewel of Abstract Expressionism

One of the first places I visited which inspired me to study art was the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice. A not so hidden oasis of modern art resting on the magical Grand Canal, for me it was like a sparkly jewel within a treasure chest. I fell in love with her unfinished palazzo and the paintings and sculptures exhibited there.

Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice

Years later I wrote about Peggy Guggenheim’s role in establishing Jackson Pollock’s career based on her commission of a large mural for her home by a then unknown painter.

Peggy Guggenheim was an extraordinary woman.

Fast forward to last week when I saw a truly brilliant exhibition at the Barbican: ‘Living Colour’ celebrates the work of the Abstract Expressionist Lee Krasner. Not since 1965 has LONDON SEEN a solo exhibition of Krasner’s ART so this is a long overdue and exciting moment for the Barbican Art Gallery.

Lee Krasner Untitled 1946, oil on linen, Collection of Bobbi and Walter Zifkin

As I look at the first work in the show (Untitled 1946) I immediately set off an alarm. Krasner’s surfaces are so inviting, I want to get up close to see beneath the top paint layers. Too close! There is a large colourful mosaic table in this room and I start to think of the paintings nearby in terms of mosaics with hidden jewels to discover.

Lee Krasner Mosaic Table 1947, mosaic and mixed media on wood, Private Collection

Night Light asks to be explored. I see tiny pops of colour within the web of black and white paint. Searching for tesserae, I nearly fall into the painting (this one isn't alarmed).

Detail of Lee Krasner’s Night Light 1949, oil on linen, Private Collection, Dallas, Texas

It is clear that Krasner’s abstract paintings are alive, works are created, destroyed and recreated, paint and textures are collaged, styles are invented and reinvented. The paintings have a force of their own and Krasner was not afraid to move on, to change.

Detail of Lee Krasner’s Untitled 1954, oil, glue, canvas and paper collage on Masonite, Private Collection, New York City

I head downstairs to the larger works painted during bouts of insomnia. Working at night, Krasner’s palette was limited to white and umber to avoid using colours in artificial light. These explosive ‘night journeys’ have thin paint layers which reflect the physical nature of the marks made as well as the paint itself.   

Detail of Lee Krasner’s Polar Stampede 1960, oil on canvas, The Doris and Donald Fisher Collection at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

I then move into rooms full of expressive colour. It’s great to see the movement of the vivid greens in Portrait in Green and the acidic orange in Courtship. Wow.

Lee Krasner Portrait in Green 1966, oil on canvas, Pollock-Krasner Foundation, New York

So why did I mention Peggy Guggenheim in my introduction? Lee or Lena Krasner was actually Mrs Pollock. Her paintings have historically been overshadowed by those of her husband. For me, the fact that Guggenheim pioneered Pollock over Krasner is hard to understand. On my tours, when I am able to, I always include a Krasner painting and every time people are very impressed. This does not surprise me. Krasner is a key Abstract Expressionist and should not be overlooked. The Barbican show is testament to her conviction as a person and a painter. A jewel within a treasure chest.  

Lee Krasner Courtship 1966, oil on canvas, Collection of David Dechman and Michel Mercure

The archival interview footage included is also wonderful. Krasner comes across as an artist with personality and purpose. She is straight forward, interesting and witty. I especially like the fact that her love of jazz meant she went dancing with Piet Mondrian in New York. Two abstract artists dancing and painting; their rhythms quite different.

Lee Krasner was also an extraordinary woman.

Lee Krasner Living Colour, 30 May - 1 September 2019  at the Barbican Art Gallery:

https://www.barbican.org.uk/whats-on/2019/event/lee-krasner-living-colour

Visions of the Self(ie): Rembrandt and Now

Last week, just a day before it closed, I caught the wonderful Gagosian exhibition: Visions of the Self: Rembrandt and Now. A collaboration with English Heritage, Rembrandt could be SEEN rubbing shoulders with the likes of Andy Warhol, Cindy Sherman, Pablo Picasso, Robert Mapplethorpe, Dora Maar, Roy Lichtenstein, Jeff Koons, Howard Hodgkin, Damien Hirst and Francis Bacon.

Rembrandt Self Portrait with Two Circles c1665, oil on canvas.

Self Portrait with Two Circles c.1665 was painted when Rembrandt was about 60 years old and is considered one of his late masterpieces. He painted himself as an artist in his studio and the circles mentioned in the title, and seen in the background of the painting, have provided experts with much to think about in terms of their significance or meaning. The painting can normally be SEEN at Kenwood House, a stately home in Hampstead, North London.  

For this recent exhibition it was loaned to the Gagosian, a commercial gallery in Mayfair, in return for the restoration of the portrait’s 18th-century frame (expected to cost about £30,000). This move is one of the first of its kind and although it offers a way to promote Kenwood and its upcoming show marking the 350th anniversary of Rembrandt’s death, it has been seen by some as going against the artist’s wishes. The work was bequeathed to the nation and its rightful home is Kenwood. I would argue that moving the painting was an exciting opportunity to look anew at the portrait. If the cost of the frame’s restoration is also covered in the process, so much the better.

Roy Lichtenstein Self-Portrait II 1976, oil and magna on canvas.

Howard Hodgkin Portrait of the Artist 1984-1987, oil on wood.

As I enter, I head straight to Rembrandt. He gives Warhol a knowing glance across the gallery, Lichtenstein is cool and sleek, Hodgkin a mass of expressive colour, Mapplethorpe and Maar’s eyes don’t leave me and I’m intrigued and repulsed by the dead man’s head next to Hirst. Seeing a work in a new context allows the person looking at it to stop and rethink what he or she might already feel about it. It also encourages new and different interpretations for the work itself and it’s temporary home. This is definitely the case here. The 17th-century master does not seem out of place with his modern and contemporary counterparts. Rembrandt and his painting ask us to rethink self-portraiture amongst new masters.

Robert Mapplethorpe Self Portrait 1988, gelatin silver print.

Dora Maar Portrait de Femme (autoportrait) 1939, oil on plywood.

Damien Hirst With Dead Head 1991, photographic print on aluminium.

Public and private, like the institutions involved in this exhibition, portraits are about both the public and the private person represented. The show sees artists interpreting and representing themselves and in turn, visitors interpret the portraits in front of them. My visit coincided with the news that an anonymous buyer had paid the highest-ever amount for a work by a living artist (over $91 million): the work was Koons’ Rabbit. At the Gagosian, in front of Gazing Ball (Rembrandt Self-Portrait Wearing a Hat), the blue glass gazing ball reflected me whilst I looked at a Koons hand-made replica of a Rembrandt self-portrait. A complex set of relationships, the experience is mine and it is about me looking. My reflection is me reflecting on art.

Jeff Koons Gazing Ball (Rembrandt Self-Portrait Wearing a Hat) 2015, oil on canvas, glass and aluminium.

I am always excited about what people bring to my London’s Art Seen Tours. Like this exhibition, the self in a self portrait isn’t just the artist or sitter, it is also the self who is looking at the artwork. Visions of the self include oneself or ourself and these can be unpredictable, brilliant  and very rewarding.

https://gagosian.com/exhibitions/2019/visions-of-the-self-rembrandt-and-now-english-heritage/

Vincent’s London Art Seen

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890)

Self-Portrait 1889

Oil paint on canvas, 572x 438mm

National Gallery ofArt, Collection of Mr. and Mrs. John Hay Whitney

Vincent van Gogh was my first ‘favourite’ artist. As an early teen I delighted in his colours and expressive brushstrokes which I saw in London, Amsterdam and Paris. I loved his chair, his flowers, his skies, even his tidy bedroom. Fast forward several decades to late March 2019 when I venture into the exhibition,Van Gogh and Britain, currently on at Tate Britain.

https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/ey-exhibition-van-gogh-and-britain

As I enter the exhibition, I’m immediately aware that I will have to be patient as it’s crowded, very crowded. With a business very much about London and art, it’s wonderful to see how much the city influenced Vincent as a person and as an artist. Arriving in 1873 aged just 20 Vincent immersed himself in the capital, albeit for a couple of years. He worked for the Dutch art dealers Goupil in Covent Garden which enabled him to walk through London exploring the art and culture it offered. Dulwich Picture Gallery’s Visitor Book with Vincent’s signature on 4 August 1873 is included almost as evidence that he was visiting museums and galleries whilst in London.

Dulwich Picture Gallery’s Visitor Book with Vincent’s signature, 4 August 1873

87 Hackford Road, an ordinary 19th-century terraced house in Brixton was his first home in London. As such, recently bought by an Anglo-Chinese family, the house is being renovated and will soon open as a centre for artists-in-residence, with bi-weekly tours.

Vincent loved London and so the first half of the exhibition looks at his experience in London. The second focuses on the impact he had on British artists up to the 1950s. The exhibition asks us to see ‘British culture through his eyes’ as well as to ’see him through the eyes of the British artists he inspired’.

Installation views (c) Tate photography (Joe Humphrys)

John Everett Millais Chill October 1870

I’m immediately struck by how much Vincent loved reading, especially English authors such as Charles Dickens. It’s nice to be presented with the historical and social context of London for him but I’m also able to see new things about Vincent including the influence of the Pre-Raphaelite artist John Everett Millais and his painting Chill October of 1870. To me, the painting seems very unlike the Millais and Van Gogh I know but we discover that Vincent never forgot meeting Millais in the street and mentions the painting often in his letters. Vincent also liked Whistler’s etchings of the river Thames and I am taken by the atmospheric stillness of Nocturne: Grey and Gold Westminster Bridge c. 1871-1872 compared to his famous pulsating and rhythmic Starry Night Over the Rhône .

James Abbott McNeill Whistler Nocturne: Grey and Gold Westminster Bridge c. 1871-1872

Vincent van Gogh Starry Night Over the Rhône 1888

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890)

The Prison Courtyard 1890

Oil paint on canvas, 800 x 640 mm

© The Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow

There’s some really wonderful works in this show and it’s fascinating to see how British artists have been inspired by Vincent van Gogh especially in the 20th century. For example, who’d have thought a Dutch artist could inspire a revival in flower painting with modern British artists. David Bomberg’s dramatic, colourful self-portrait sits powerfully in the last room.

It is, however, Vincent’s works I spend the most time on. His prison scene (inspired by his walks and Dickens’s accounts of prisons - we also learn that Vincent later collected prints of prisons), his shoes and his vibrant and expressive self portraits. There is also a clip from Lust for Life from 1956 with with Kirk Douglas. This prompts me to add Loving Vincent (2017) and At Eternity's Gate (2018) to my current list of films to see.

Although Vincent van Gogh only lived in London for a couple of years, this time clearly shaped him and stayed with him for his whole life. In the context of an exhibition at Tate Britain, it is his connection to Britain that is presented. It enabled me to see Vincent in a new light (and colour) which I was not expecting. Vincent’s London Art Seen gets a thumbs up from London’s Art Seen.   

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890)

Shoes 1886

Oil paint on canvas, 381 x 453 mm

Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam (Vincent van Gogh Foundation).

Vincent van Gogh (1853–1890)

Self-portrait 1887

Oil paint on canvas, 470 x 350 mm

Paris, Musée d'Orsay

© RMN

Van Gogh and Britain, Tate Britain, 27 March-11 August 2019.

The Van Gogh House has tours from May/June 2019.

Lust for Life from (1956) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0049456/

Loving Vincent (2017) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3262342/

At Eternity's Gate (2018) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6938828/

Art Movie Night

In the last week, I’ve SEEN two films on Netflix that are set within the contemporary artworld: Velvet Buzzsaw (2019) https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/80199689 and The Square (2017) https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/80191371. Written and directed by Dan Gilroy, Velvet Buzzsaw is a thriller based in LA’s contemporary art scene. In The Square, written and directed by Ruben Östlund, a prestigious Stockholm museum's curator finds himself in professional and personal crisis as he attempts to set up a controversial new exhibit.

In Velvet Buzzsaw Art critic Morf Vandewalt and Josephina, as assistant to Rhodora Haze, owner of the Haze Gallery and formerly a member of the rock band Velvet Buzzsaw, work together to promote the paintings of Vertil Dease. This is when things start to go seriously wrong… In The Square we are told that ‘The Square is a sanctuary of trust and caring. Within its bounds we all share equal rights and obligations’. And the film is, in fact, based partly on a similar installation Östlund and producer Kalle Boman had made in 2011 and exhibited in Sweden and Norway. Early on, Christian is robbed and the path the curator pursues in retrieving his wallet and phone is at odds with the ethical ideals presented by the exhibited piece.

Both films showcase fantastic acting. Jake Gyllenhaal, Zawe Ashton, Rene Russo, Toni Collette and John Malkovich make a fabulous cast and play their parts to perfection. Likewise, Claes Bang, Elisabeth Moss, Terry Notary and Dominic West give excellent performances. For me, Zawe Ashton is brilliant as Josephina and Terry Notary as a chimpanzee-fixated performance artist at a patrons’ dinner is both thrilling and excruciatingly painful to watch. Just to also note here, for this scene, Östlund was inspired by a notorious incident involving Oleg Kulik in Stockholm in 1996 where the Russian artist became an angry, violent dog attacking visitors and works in the gallery.

1. Theatrical one-sheet for THE SQUARE, a Magnolia Pictures release. Photo courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

Slick and stylish, we are immediately immersed into the high-end art worlds in which both films are located. Money, opinion and publicity, the commercial aspects of the artworld, seem to prevail. However, both films shift and it becomes apparent that they have a social and moral message: a supernatural force taking revenge on those who let their greed get the better of them and an artwork which is simply an enclosed space where people are told to behave responsibly. What starts as a satire on the contemporary art world in Velvet Buzzsaw soon becomes a dark and, at times, really gruesome horror movie. And similarly, what seems like an amusing take on the practicalities of exhibiting contemporary art, soon shifts positioning Christian’s downfall within the mantra put forward by The Square. Both films move from the totally believable to more dramatic and fanciful theatre. They are satirical and uncomfortable, elusive and suggestive.  

If it’s entertainment you’re after, I recommend watching either, or like me, binge and watch both!

Velvet Buzzsaw (2019): https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7043012/

The Square (2017): https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4995790/.

Faith, Intensity and Technology: Bill Viola in London

I’m excited. The Royal Academy of Arts has decided to put on an exhibition combining the work of a contemporary video artist, Bill Viola, and the drawings of the Renaissance master Michelangelo. This is a bold and brave move and I’m thrilled to be one of the first through the doors to see it. As I enter the first darkened gallery, my ears and eyes are quick to adjust and I am aware of a body moving in water on the screen in front of me. I watch mesmerised. It takes me a while to work out that the naked male figure is moving towards me and is about to come out of the water. After a few breaths, he falls back in an eternal loop of surfacing, submerging and resurfacing. In Viola’s own words, ‘a sculptor of time’, here immersive sound and visual footage work together to create a slowed down dramatic event. Entitled The Messenger this piece is a rather nice link to Bridget Riley’s Messengers currently on display at The National Gallery and which I wrote about in my last blog: https://www.londonsartseen.com/blog/2019/1/23/cloud-spotting. Both pieces demonstrate how contemporary artists are able to reflect upon the impact of past artists, making new statements in new media. Perhaps they have become the true messengers. Back to the RA and Viola’s messenger before me refers to rebirth and reincarnation. And, in this womb-like space, the work is profoundly spiritual.  

Bill Viola, Nantes Triptych, 1992

Video/sound installation

Courtesy Bill Viola Studio

Photo: Kira Perov

Onto the next room and it’s Viola’s Nantes Tryptich which immediately demands my attention. I am aware that there are Michelangelo drawings behind me and I am interested in how these can be understood in relation to Viola’s videos but I’m torn. I don’t want to miss the moment of birth or death that are literally happening before me. So I chose Viola over Michelangelo - just until I’ve seen the baby being born. Their scale and sound seem to dwarf the Michelangelo’s but, post birth, I take time to learn more about the connection between the two artists. The catalyst for the exhibition was when Martin Clayton, Head of prints and Drawings at Royal Collection Trust, showed Viola Michelangelo's drawings at the Print Room at Windsor Castle in 2006. Rather than claiming that Viola has been directly influenced by Michelangelo, the exhibition aims to examine the affinities between them, their treatment of the large philosophical questions such as the nature of being, the transience of life and the meaning beyond mortality. For me, throughout this exhibition, which incidentally is a journey through mortal life and beyond, it is the Viola’s that call to me every time. I leave feeling intellectually, emotionally and physically drained. My mortal body needs to sit down and process...

Michelangelo Buonarroti, The Lamentation over the Dead Christ, c. 1540

Black chalk, 28.1 x 26.8 cm

The British Museum, London. Exchanged with Colnaghi, 1896, 1896,0710.1

© The Trustees of the British Museum

Fast forward several days and a programme on the BBC is able to enlighten me further on the man who has preoccupied my thoughts since leaving the exhibition. Bill Viola: The Road to St Pauls aired on BBC4 on 4 February 2019 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0c2jw5z/imagine-2019-3-bill-viola-the-road-to-st-pauls). Focusing on his commission for St Paul's Cathedral in London, we follow Viola and his wife, Kira Perov, on their journey. She is an instrumental force and support system for him which he acknowledges throughout the programme; she is also co-curator of the RA show and wrote an essay for the catalogue. They are a partnership. We learn that the death of his mother in 1991 marked a shift in Viola’s work as he started to think of more spiritual themes for his video installations. It is actually her body we see struggling to breath in the right panel of the Nante Triptych. Watching her in a coma over three months was a profound life experience as well as a critical moment for Viola’s artistic career. Her death made him aware that ‘beauty, death, life and art are connected’. He tells us that we are ‘here for the ride, enter stage left, exit stage right’. This is an interesting comment to make when we see the footage of him creating Martyrs and Mary for St Paul’s. Viola is the director and his technical and artistic teams, as well as the performers, his incredible location choices (Salton Sea is simply breathtaking), and stage sets allow something rather magical to happen.  

The Dean of St Paul’s acknowledges that the works ask us to stop and engage with them, they command a greater involvement from the viewer (or church goer). This reminds me of my own personal journey at the RA being pulled to his portrayal of the never ending cycle of life, death and rebirth (the title of the RA exhibition), of having to think about my own experience and existence. The BBC programme highlights that Viola is humble, sincere and clearly moved by the power of his own works. He reveals, ‘faith, intensity and technology’ come together to create something far larger than the whole. I completely agree and it’s very exciting that we are able to experience this in both a gallery and a cathedral setting in London at the moment.

Bill Viola, Fire Woman, 2005

Video/sound installation

Performer: Robin Bonaccorsi

Courtesy Bill Viola Studio

Photo: Kira Perov

As well as the death of his mother, his own near death drowning experience as a child is also a driving force for his videos. Viola recalls the light from under the water which just took him, adding that he often returns to this moment. Water is a metaphor for life, for transition between states and for transcendence and features throughout the show. Water is symbolic in  terms of birth and resurrection, the beginning and the end and Tristan’s Ascension is a profound and powerful end to a show that started with The Messenger. I’ve come full circle. Viola sees altars as portals. To me, his works are also portals, portals for our own reflection about life and what lies beyond. We have become the congregation at the RA and cannot help but be moved spiritually.

Bill Viola, Tristan’s Ascension (The Sound of a Mountain Under a Waterfall), 2005

Video/sound installation

Performer: John Hay

Courtesy Bill Viola Studio

Photo: Kira Perov

If you can, do go and see:

Bill Viola / Michelangelo: Life, Death, Rebirth at the Royal Academy of Arts:

https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/bill-viola-michelangelo (open until 31 March 2019)

Bill Viola’s Martyrs and Mary at St Paul’s:

http://billviolaatstpauls.com/#bill-viola (open daily)

Cloud Spotting

Earlier this week we had Blue Monday and the MET Office warned of thundersnow as temperatures plummeted. I decided to risk it and venture outside to see Bridget Riley’s new commission at the National Gallery.

https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/whats-on/messengers-by-bridget-riley-a-new-work-at-the-national-gallery

Messengers opened on 17 January in the Gallery’s Annenberg Court. Riley, now 87, has painted large coloured discs using acrylics directly onto the plaster wall covering an area 10x40m. I arrive just after 10am via the gallery level and so get a great unobstructed view of the piece. Riley wants us to feel alive whilst looking at this work, to see the shape and colours of the discs change depending on where we stand and for how long we look at it. The discs really do change and I am immediately reminded of a very different work that also plays with the idea of colour and afterimages; Olafur Eliasson's Your Double-Lighthouse Projection currently on display at Tate Modern.

Olafur Eliasson Your Double-Lighthouse Projection 2002

https://www.tate.org.uk/visit/tate-modern/display/tanks/olafur-eliasson

Bridget Riley’s Messengers 2019

Here though, the beauty of the repeated pattern of the discs in muted purple, taupe and green is both calming and reassuring.

The title, Messengers, comes from a phrase John Constable used when referring to clouds in the sky, and so I decide to go cloud spotting in the gallery. Constable has inspired Riley who in turn has inspired me to take a fresh look at some very familiar works. I start with the man himself, Constable and The Hay Wain painted in 1821.

John Constable The Hay Wain 1821

Willy Lott’s Suffolk cottage is framed by heavy rain-filled clouds. They demonstrate Constable's skill at painting realistic and meteorologically correct clouds. I look across to see Turner’s Rain, Steam, and Speed - The Great Western Railway painted nearly a quarter of a century later and am struck by the abstract quality of his impastoed sky.

J.M.W. Turner Rain, Steam, and Speed - The Great Western Railway 1844

Monet’s impressionist fleeting clouds at Trouville have also been created with brushstrokes laden heavy with paint.

Claude Monet The Beach at Trouville 1870

I know they contain real sand as he painted the scene on the actual beach depicted and analysis carried out by conservators reveal sand particles within the paint layers. Nearby Cezanne’s eleven bathers are far too preoccupied to notice the beautiful heavy bulbous clouds above them.

Paul Cezanne Bathers (Les Grandes Baigneuses) c.1894-1905

Onto Venice and Canaletto’s calm fluffy clouds wistfully move across the lagoon. Titian worked in Venice, taking full advantage of all the precious materials traded there from the east including ultramarine extracted from lapis lazuli.

Titian Bacchus and Ariadne 1520–1523

The sky for Bacchus and Ariadne is an intense vivid blue commanding nearly half the canvas. It makes a great contrast to the scene and the clouds Titian painted. Velazquez’s spiritual sky, by comparison, frames the Madonna in more muted, contemplative tones.

Diego Velázquez The Immaculate Conception 1618-19

I finish with Duccio’s early Renaissance religious panels where the sky is represented with valuable and reflective gold rather than painted as an earthly sky with clouds.

Duccio The Annunciation 1307–11

Duccio The Healing of the Man born Blind 1307-11

As I leave the National Gallery I am greeted with a beautiful cloudless blue sky and Nelson, struck with an aeroplane flight path trail which looks dramatic but also reminds me of the term ‘messenger’ where my journey began.

As messengers, clouds might be seen to signify the changing tides of time. They are often part of the backdrop of a scene, often perhaps not SEEN. I try and recall other important or impressive clouds from the history of art. It’s an eclectic mix - Chronologically: Gainsborough, Hokusai, Whistler, Van Gogh, Magritte, Nash but there are also real clouds that form part of more modern works: Kapoor’s Sky Mirrors and Turrell’s Skyscapes for example. This seems far from comprehensive so, for now, my cloud hunt will continue.

Anish Kapoor Sky Mirror, Blue 2016

James Turrell Skyspace: Seldom Seen 2002

Another Kind of Art Competition

Happy New Year to everyone who follows my London’s Art Seen blog. There’s some exciting shows coming up in 2019 and I’m looking forward to seeing them as well as writing more about art in London for you all. Please do remember that I offer a range of art tours and experiences in London for all age groups (https://www.londonsartseen.com/art-experiences/).
This Christmas I got given several games and it’ll come as no surprise that most included an art focus.

Over the holidays, once my daughter’s epic and nearly impossible 500 piece Mona Lisa  jigsaw puzzle (with ginger cat) was complete, with a sense of real achievement, we moved onto The Art Game.

An artists’ trump cards pack, it was created in 2014 by James Cahill, illustrated by Mikkel Sommer and published by Magma for Laurence King. Each card includes an image of an artist, some information about him or her followed by 6 categories:

1. Influence

2. ‘Shock of the new’ effect

3. Versatility

4. Top auction price

5. Critical reception

6. The ‘beautiful’ factor

On opening the pack, I immediately loved the feel of the cards as well as the details in the illustrations: Christo and his wife are wrapped, Mondrian has a suit jacket which is reminiscent of one of his paintings, Magritte is faceless but has a hat and pipe. The game focuses on modern art and there are several female artists represented which is reassuring.

5 players, the youngest at 9, the eldest at 69, we start to play. And play soon stops and discussions start. We’re surprised by some of the scores and try to justify the numbers allocated. Influence is tricky - we might not be fully aware of, for example, the influential impact of Ai Wiewei as yet. Play resumes. The winner of the ‘beautiful’ factor is now under fire, Rothko has won against Picasso, Rauschenberg and Warhol. We’re still not convinced. We check the box and discover that there is a card which has a note on the selection criteria and marking system which starts, ‘Quantifying the beauty or impact is a fine art in itself’. It continues by acknowledging it is also an imprecise art also justifying the inclusion of the beauty factor category by putting it in the context of a given ideal beauty. It ends by noting that modern and contemporary art is eclectic and that the scores for each category try to reflect this characteristic. Whilst nice to be included, the note doesn’t change the fact that we may disagree with some of the scoring (or at least they are the starting point for asking why, how, when). It feels very much like a relationship with the sat nav in your car, it’s a good start but there are other options. Instead of just reading out our scores, we agree that we should identify our artist too, we’re keen to come to grips with the scores and categories even if we’re not in total agreement. It allows us to feel we are learning and arguing communally. In the meantime, the 9 year old has won two games! It’s a great way to get the mind thinking about artists and their relationship to the market. Playing the game in 20 years time will also be fascinating as things move quickly and change in the artworld as seen in my blog ‘Money Creates Taste’ posted on 20/11/18 (https://www.londonsartseen.com/blog/2018/11/20/money-creates-taste).

My new gifts remind me of what I have in storage upstairs. A labour of love for Tate Enterprises, many years ago, I developed a children's art game much like happy families. Working with Rachel Hamdi and Holly Fulbrook, in 2007 the postbox red box of Art Collector hit the children’s area of all Tate shops. I dig it out and we start to play as a family. I am relieved that my two daughters think it’s amazing and love the artworks shown on each card. They understand the concept and start ‘happily’ asking for artists’ works that they have neither heard of nor seen before.

It’s a great tool to get children (and adults) more familiar with artists and artworks in Tate’s collection. The girls look at the paintings and sculptures represented on each card and begin to get more confident with artists names. There are 13 artists’ collections in total, inclusing Hepworth, Hockney, Turner and Whistler, each with 4 works. Grandma wins. I am pleased that the game works (!) and the girls are keen to play again (and again!). I’m also surprised to see how much of me is in the game - artists and works I include on my art tours.  

But, of course, nothing beats going to museums and galleries themselves and seeing works ‘in the flesh’. Like The Art Game, Art Collector is a lovely starting point to foster a love of looking at art. For now, my art games equal a more happy and art-aware family. So, for me, it’s a win-win!  

The Art Game: https://www.laurenceking.com/product/the-art-game/

Art Collector: https://www.oliverbonas.com/gift/tate-art-collector

And the Winner Is …

Charlotte Prodger. Congratulations!

Last night, the winner of this year’s Turner Prize was announced by the author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. She eloquently highlighted the importance of creativity in our current society. And, Tate’s Director Maria Balshaw stressed her desire for art to be accessible to all indicating the need for art to remain a key part of education for everyone. Prodger also took the opportunity in her humble acceptance speech to acknowledge how it was the funding in further education had made her projects possible.

So where are we with creativity being taken seriously? Do the arts appear less important than, for example, the sciences in education and beyond? I felt a real sense of hope when each of the female speakers on stage in the beautifully lit Duveens argued for art as a catalyst to make our country and world a better place. In an era of political chaos, perhaps the arts are our most important coping mechanism or expression, our way forward.

The shortlisted artists Forensic Architecture, Naeem Mohaiemen, Luke Willis Thompson and the winner Charlotte Prodger all work with moving images rather than painting or sculpting. Their chosen medium of film is therefore considered modern and needs to be SEEN over time (to experience all the works in this year’s show takes several hours). The subject matter in each is also very contemporary: human rights violations, the manipulation of political utopias, class, racial and social inequality, institutional violence, and identity politics.

https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/turner-prize-2018

Entering the Turner Prize earlier this year, I was met with a large gallery space with grey sofas surrounding a coffee table as well as four doors. I chose the door closest to me and went in. It was Prodger’s 33 minute iPhone video about gender identity, landscape and mythology. Bridgit was shot over a year and is immensely personal and thought-provoking. I moved on systematically round to the next door, Thompson’s silent 35mm films projected onto the wall with the giant caged projector standing proud and clattering the ranks of looped film in the dark. Forensic Architecture next and I was drawn into the timeline and events of a raid on a bedouin village. Real footage and computer modelling are used to analyse and reconstruct the chaos. Finally, I walked through the last door and watched Mohaiemen’s two videos In Tripoli Cancelled and Two Meetings and a Funeral. I have to admit, the rather formal, comfy row of seats were a relief and once I’d taken all the works in, I felt exhausted. I was glad for the gallery space with sofas outside to sit and process (excuse the pun) what I’d just witnessed. My favourite was the Prodger but I wondered whether if I’d started with another door first, I might have felt differently. On reflection, I don’t think so.

Upstairs, with a fix of caffeine from the Member Room, I was reminded of one of my first memories of seeing the Turner Prize back in 1993. Both Vong Phaophanit’s rice and Rachel Whiteread’s House left a lasting impression on me.

https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/exhibition/turner-prize-1993

These works pushed the boundaries of artistic practice whilst communicating a powerful idea. There have been many moments since. More recently the Turner Prize, as a marker of artistic if not controversial achievement, has featured in more popular culture. Charlie Brooker's ‘The National Anthem’ from Black Mirror and Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton’s ‘Private View’ from Inside No.9 are two examples.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2089051/

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b08kbvfc

Its inclusion in these television series reflects the importance of the prize to the art world and further afield. Do watch these episodes if you haven’t already as they are very clever (and dark!).

This year's selected works are not easy viewing for the visitor. For me, the decision to have artists working with similar media was an intelligent one. How could a painter have been judged on the same terms if included? Each entry reflects a commitment to telling a story, using a modern process to address a modern issue. Next year, the Turner Prize will be held at Turner Contemporary in Margate. Paying homage to Turner himself, the namesake of the prize, I look forward to seeing the artists shortlisted. In the meantime, I am urging all to listen to the words of presenter, director and winner, art is immensely important to us all today.

The Turner Prize is open until 6 January 2019 at Tate Britain.

'Money Creates Taste'

Several years ago I bought a Jenny Holzer wooden postcard from Tate Modern’s shop. Printed on one side is the statement (or Holzer Truism) ‘Money Creates Taste’.

On the other side there is a space for a message, stamp and address. I’ve never sent the postcard (I only really use second class stamps anyhow). It has remained unused and unsent in my living room; part art object part ironic message for anyone who sees it. Holzer’s statement is bold and clear, the red typeface chosen adding to the sense that these words are powerful, important and meaningful. But, of course, the message also undermines itself. We are instantly made to question, does money create taste?

Last Sunday, whilst sitting in the Bertha DocHouse cinema at the Curzon Bloomsbury (do go if you haven't), the relationship between money and taste was also being thrashed out. This time via a documentary on the art market entitled The Price of Everything. The Curzon state:  ‘As artworks are auctioned for outrageous figures, Director Nathaniel Kahn investigates the capitalist hijack’. Artists, dealers, collectors, art historians and auction house curators all have their say in this fascinating look at the current state of the market. It becomes self evident that contemporary art has created its own currency, a marker, a luxury brand and a trading entity. The characters selected for the documentary allude to the fact that this current trend cannot sustain itself and the market is heading towards, for want of a better term, a crash.

Everyone seems to be aware of their place within the process, from creator to dealer to seller to buyer and it becomes clear that there is, as the title suggests, a price for everything. But, even if this is the case, the film also demonstrates how artists love to create and collectors love to collect and, although artworks are linked to a price tag, there is still a drive that relies on a passion for artistic creativity. Larry Poons, for example, fell out of favour with the market as he developed his style and refused to simply produce ‘1960s Poons dots’. The documentary shows him continuing to work today, painting with thick impasto paint with his fingers on huge canvases that surround him. This setup is reminiscent of Monet’s Water-Lilies at the Orangerie Museum in Paris mentioned in my blog on 31/10/18. We hear how Poons dropped off and how this might be the moment for his resurgence in the art market. Poons isn’t bothered, he is happy that his more recent works are getting shown and the market appears to be keen to promote an unseen group of works to re-establish Poons in an ever veracious market. I was also rather taken by Stefan Edlis, a collector and philanthropist in Chicago, whose apartment was filled with wonderful artworks. He acknowledges that he always chooses works he and his wife love and want to live with, much like a beautiful piece of furniture. He refers to his spreadsheets to tell us what he has bought, when and for how much. He also reveals how he no longer pays for artworks, rather he trades his in. At one point, he states he can be a wolf in sheep’s clothing but also a sheep in wolf’s clothing. What is clear is he is passionate about the works and this is highlighted by his donation of a substantial amount of his collection to the Art Institute of Chicago. He wants others to see and appreciate the works he has lived with and loved.

Returning to ‘Money Creates Taste’ or the relationship between taste and money. I wanted to finish with the new £20 that will be introduced in Britain in 2020. Part of a nationwide vote, it will feature JMW Turner’s self-portrait which is currently on display at Tate Britain, one of his most significant paintings, The Fighting Temeraire, and the quote ‘light is therefore colour’ from an 1818 lecture by him. To me, this in an interesting twist on taste, money and creativity. One of Britain’s greatest painters will be seen forevermore linked to pound sterling, taste has now created money. As portrayed in The Price of Everything art really is currency.

https://thepriceofeverything.co.uk/

Perceptions and Reflections

From frames to perceptions and reflections, this week’s blog is all about the current exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, Space Shifters.

Richard Wilson 20:50 1987

As I walk into the show my first reaction is instant; I feel travel sick, as if I am about to step foot on a large boat and go on a long journey. So strong is the smell of oil, it takes me a few seconds to realise it is permeating from the Richard Wilson piece upstairs. I’d already checked waiting times and was warned that a group of 50 university students were about to arrive so headed straight up. The smell gets stronger. I’ve seen the Wilson piece a few times now, originally at the Saatchi Gallery in St John’s Wood, but this is the first time I have had to queue. It is definitely worth it even if I am feeling queasier by the minute. 20:50 is a sculptural intervention where engine oil floods a whole room with a narrow passageway for visitors to walk to the centre. The dark, smooth and reflective surface is perfectly still. As I walk into the work, I am aware that I am surrounded by a beautiful yet repulsive liquid but this sensation starts to shift as the passageway gets narrower and the liquid starts to melt away in space. Wilson’s oil both reflects the architecture of the gallery and distorts it. Windows, doors and ceiling become abstract patterns and I feel like I am lost in an endless environment, neither building nor oil. I am struck by the material’s surface as well as its effect on me.

Anish Kapoor Sky Mirror, Blue 2016

As I step out, Anish Kapoor’s Sky Mirror, Blue makes the same impression, I am drawn to the real polished surface as well as its power to distort. The concave mirror brings the clouded grey sky down and frames it within a beautiful blue filter. London’s sky is transformed instantly for me.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres “Untitled” (Golden) 1995

Next I pass through Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ golden beaded curtain. I enjoy the sensation of actually touching a work as well as it asking me to walk through it. I love the play of light on each mini disco ball. I am reminded of this downstairs with Yayoi Kusama’s hundreds of stainless steel orbs. Both highlight how repetition can lead to intrigue, light reflecting on and off a surface making an object appear to change state; solid to liquid.

Yayoi Kusama Narcissus Garden 1966-2018

The curtain leads me through to a room of other works but it’s Roni Horn’s purple glass sculpture on the floor nearby that I want to look at first. Her cylinder looks both solid and liquid as well as heavy and sensual and the cast ‘super-cooled liquid’ changes appearance as I walk round it.

Roni Horn Untitled (“Everything was sleeping as if the universe were a mistake”) 2012-13

Downstairs, Alicja Kwade’s installation needs me to help make the work. And nothing is quite what it seems, I move around and through a steel-framed structure with double-sided mirrors and objects in an attempt to work out which objects are real and which are reflections. Rocks magically change colour, disappear and reappear and spaces open up or close off. The steel frame is the constant and it is me moving around which alters my perception and makes me question what is real and in front of me! It is a maze-like conundrum which I both enjoy and am a little wary of.

Alicja Kwade WeltenLinie 2017

Most people are drawn to mirrors and most of the works in this show are made from materials or surfaces that reflect. A reflection brings with it the temptation to compare real and reflected. That is, reflections can distort, they can shift our perception of what is real in both space and time. They can also appear to transform a state of a material, liquid to solid or solid to liquid or even neither or as with Wilson's engine oil. It is us as that are part of the distorting process. Much like the framing I talked about in last week’s blog, as well as the artist, we as a viewer have the capacity to reflect on our perceptions, we are part of the reflected surface.

Do go and see Space Shifters at the Hayward Gallery until 6 January 2019:

https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/hayward-gallery-art/space-shifters

London’s Art Seen in Paris

This week’s blog is something a little different; not least because it’s not about art seen in London. It will also be formed of less words and more images.

So here goes, London’s Art Seen in Paris...

Highlights from a recent visit to the French capital included a trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower which was both high and full of light, dramatic sunset light in fact. Up, up, up and away, Charlie’s glass elevator opened and Paris appeared to have been given a wash of golden paint: simply magical. The tower cast a recognisable shadow over the honey-coloured city and then, once back down, it was framed by sky and artificial light reminiscent of the Pissarro painting from last week’s blog.  

Through bullet proof protective glass Mona Lisa smiled at me for the first time and I was transfixed.

Leonardo da Vinci Mona Lisa c.1503-06

Then, after a brisk walk through wings of the Louvre, past what appeared like a modern installation made of traditional picture frames, I met with Dutch lacemakers. Like the lace itself, Vermeer's brushwork was delicate, intricate and beautiful.

Display of frames at the Louvre

Johannes Vermeer The Lacemaker c.1669-70

In the Tuileries Gardens there was a reclining figure, lovers kissing and hands, lots of tender hands, all trying to keep warm.

Henry Moore Reclining Figure 1951

Francois Auguste Rene Rodin The Kiss

Louise Bourgeois The Welcoming Hands 1996

And then the peaceful Monet’s in the Orangerie Museum, I never tire of them, tranquil, timeless and all encompassing. They make a marked contrast from the bustle of Parisian life outside. But I love both Paris’s and with more to still see, I know I’ll be back.

Claude Monet’s Water Lilies

Framed by its iconic tower, boulevards and the Seine; the city’s art is framed inside museums protected by bulletproof glass or nestled into public spaces to be discovered. But, like the exhibit of empty frames, we all also frame what we see, we bring ourselves to a city and all it has to offer. So, for now, I return to London to frame my home city and its art. I loved visiting Paris but I continue to make London’s Art Seen.   

Raise a Glass for Samuel Courtauld

I start this week’s blog with a bottle of Chilean red, a 2017 Pinot Noir in fact. Costing £8.50 the wine tastes good and I am pleased if not a little surprised that I am also supporting the care and preservation of art with my purchase. The bottle tells me, ‘Founded in 1824, the National Gallery, London continues to provide a collection of paintings of the highest quality. By purchasing this wine, your contribution ensures future generations enjoy the paintings as we do today’. Ah, it tastes even better now.

The label also has a reproduction of a painting currently on display in the Courtauld Impressionists: From Manet to Cézanne exhibition. It’s one of my favourites in the show: The Boulevard Montmartre at Night painted by Camille Pissarro in about 1897. Unlike the glorious sunny days we’ve been experiencing recently, this painting, which belongs to the National Gallery, depicts a wet night. Artificially lit, the boulevard is a bustle of expressive brushstrokes; purples and blues are set against flickering warm yellows. Pissarro painted this scene many times from a window in a room at the Hôtel de Russie but this is his only attempt at capturing it at night. And, it is notable as one of the darkest paintings in the show.

The exhibition itself is simple and strong. Renovation work at the Courtauld Gallery has meant forty works from the collection have been loaned and exhibited alongside Impressionist works from the National Gallery. Twelve artists in 3 galleries tell a story. They tell the story of Impressionism through the work of Daumier, Manet, Monet, Degas, Pissarro, Seurat, Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec, Cézanne, Bonnard, Gauguin and Van Gogh. It’s quite a story as it documents two collections that were assembled between 1922 and 1931. Samuel Courtauld and his wife Elizabeth built up an impressive personal collection of modern French painting for their own London residence which the exhibition acknowledges with the large black and white reproduction photographs showing the paintings hung in various rooms in Home House. The other collection, made possible through the Courtauld Fund, included Impressionist and Post-Impressionist works for the nation's education and entertainment. Still not regarded proper art by the establishment at this time, the exhibition marks the brave and personal ambition of Courtauld himself. After Elizabeth’s death, Samuel donated their personal collection to the newly founded Courtauld Institute and so, for the first time, the story of two collections, personal and public, have been brought together.

The story of Courtauld’s taste is one many are keen to see but other stories are here too. Modern subjects, modern materials, modern techniques, modern aims, we move like a flaneur in Paris with music at the Tuileries Gardens, a Bar at the Folies-Bergère, nighttime on Boulevard Montmartre, there are dancers, voyeurs and dreamers and Jane Avril is spotted leaving the Moulin Rouge. There is rowing down the Seine at Argenteuil past bathers at Asnières before we head south to Antibes, Provence and Arles. The Impressionist use of modern, newly invented paints with their broad brushstrokes, their interest in the effects of colour and light and working out doors, ‘en plein air’, form part of these intertwined stories.

Claude Monet Antibes 1888

Although considered too revolutionary and rubbished by the art establishment when first painted, we are all now very familiar with French Impressionist painting. What I enjoyed most about this exhibition was seeing Courtauld’s goal realised. His beautiful collection catalogue, an edition of 20, and displayed here is the true story behind the exhibition. And so, like all good red wines, Impressionism needed time to breathe. Courtauld opened the bottle and I want to enjoy my glass in (front of) Monet’s Antibes.  

Santa Rita National Gallery Pinot Noir: https://www.sainsburys.co.uk/shop/gb/groceries/santa-rita-reserva-pinot-noir-75cl

Courtauld Impressionists: From Manet to Cézanne, the National Gallery, until 20 January 2019: https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/courtauld-impressionists-from-manet-to-cezanne

"Everything in this room is edible…" : Yayoi Kusama at Victoria Miro

I’ve got a golden ticket! I’ve managed to get a timed slot to see Yayoi Kusama’s paintings and sculptures at Victoria Miro’s gallery that rests on the borders of Islington and Hoxton. And, as I later discover, there are no more slots available before the exhibition closes in late December. This, and the fact that the Japanese artist is fast approaching her ninetieth birthday, makes the visit that much more special.

Yayoi Kusama Infinity Mirrored Room - My Heart is Dancing into the Universe 2018

It’s a beautiful sunny day and I leave my SW postcode and venture east then north via bus and underground. It’s not quite the same as Charlie Bucket running straight home and not stopping till he gets there. But, having walked up City Road, the ex Victorian furniture factory now turned gallery is a wonderful hidden tranquil oasis. I’m ushered upstairs to see Infinity Mirrored Room - My Heart is Dancing into the Universe first. It doesn’t disappoint, far from it. As I step into Kusama’s dark mirrored room, the lanterns she has covered with polka dots and suspended from the ceiling create a magical, endless and colourful environment. The short path I follow through the room melts away and I am mesmerised by the changes in colour and the reflected round spotted lanterns that create eternal and ever-changing patterns for me to experience. I am lost in another world, Kusama’ cosmic infinity (a theme for her since 1965). My experience is all too short and I feel rather deflated as I am encouraged to move on.

Yayoi Kusama Pumpkin 2018

Downstairs there are more works on display. One yellow, one red and one green pumpkin await me. Pumpkins are another motif that Kusama has used, in this instance since the 1940s. They are comforting to her, humble and amusing. Covered in black dots, each pumpkin is vibrant, glossy and, yes, amusing. I am surprised that they are hand-painted bronzes as, to me, they scream modern pop culture. Much like Roald Dahl’s fictional Everlasting Gobstopper, their shiny surfaces look invitingly edible. The paintings surrounding the pumpkins are equally vibrant and delicious-looking, everything in this room really does seem edible.

Yayoi Kusama Flowers That Speak All About My Heart Given To The Sky 2018

Outside, Kusama’s flowers make a great counterpart to the Monet-like landscaped garden and water. My reaction of awe, wonder and sheer joy is reminiscent of Charlie and his Grandpa Joe as they enter Wonka’s factory. These bold and brightly coloured works demand to be walked around and viewed from every possible angle. Their highly reflective surfaces are like glass, not the traditional patina of bronze sculptures. They want to be touched, eaten and consumed.

As I return home, I am more aware of colour and surface patterns around me. The greyness of City Road is broken up and I am amused to see number 238 represented with two red dots, three blue dots and eight purple dots. My adventure into Kusama’s world continues and I look forward to seeing her film Kusama Infinity and then perhaps, after, the original 1971 Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

238, City Road, London

https://www.victoria-miro.com/exhibitions/528/

https://www.kusamamovie.co.uk/videos/

The Line of London

With my home city the centre of my new art business, London’s Art Seen, I am keen to incorporate some of London’s identifiable shapes into my branding. St Pauls, Tate Modern, the London Eye, the Shard, the Gherkin, the Cheese Grater and the Walkie Talkie are all buildings in London, their outlines silhouetted against an often grey sky yet always easily recognisable to Londoner and tourist alike.

In search of something simple, striking yet still ‘London’, my research has led me to look more closely at maps of the city. Similarly, lines are used to form postcodes, boroughs, roads, buildings and much more but still identifiably London in shape. If you haven’t seen it, Londonist Mapped: Hand-drawn Maps for The Urban Explorer is a wonderful compendium of maps of the capital. The designs selected map the capital through, for example, borough names, bridges, waterways and wildlife, parks, cemeteries, music, tube stations and buildings with more quirky examples such as Rewati Shahani’s use of several pigeons (another symbol of London) to create the city’s shape. As an art-historian, I should add I particularly like Caroline Harper’s London’s Miscellany of Museums. The publication and its illustrations are beautiful and the accompanying Londonist texts are informative and riveting.

Londonist Mapped clearly demonstrates the appeal of the map for all. In a week where Frieze and a self-destructing Banksy have taken up much of London’s art news, I was reassured to see the Dex stand at The Other Art Fair surrounded by people fully engaged, and engaging with, maps of London.

The Other Art Fair, October 07, 2018

To finish, as a lover of water I am particularly drawn to the one line always represented in maps of London. The unmistakable shape of the River Thames divides north from south and moves its way through the city, east to west, and back again each day. The river is a line, a route, a reflection and a barrier but it is also a beautiful fluid shape. It is London.

https://londonist.com/london/books-and-poetry/londonist-mapped-take-a-look-at-our-new-book

http://www.theotherartfair.com/

Time for some Christian Marclay

It’s a sunny autumnal Friday and I am keen to see a work at Tate Modern that I’ve heard so much about. I first pop to the displays at the Boiler House to see some old friends including an Anthony Caro, Marcel Duchamp and Keith Sonnier. As I cross over the Level 4 Bridge to the Blavatnik Building, I am struck by the strong smell of paint. I look down to see the Turbine Hall having a floor laid and painted and, is that a the start of a huge portrait? I quickly google next commission and am pleased yet disappointed, it’ll be a few weeks yet until I can see Tania Bruguera’s interactive political gesture let alone be brought to tears in her crying room.

Tania Bruguera, Turbine Hall, Tate Modern, September 21, 2018

Now in the Blavatnik Building, I am aware that I may have to queue to experience the work I’ve come to see. I’m hoping the lunchtime slot I’ve plumped for will stand me in good stead. Yes, it does, I’m straight in and happily ensconced on a comfy sofa. It’s 13.10. How do I know? Christian Marclay and his team of researchers have provided the time for me and the other hundred or so people here. Christian Marclay’s The Clock is billed by Tate as a ‘mesmerising masterpiece of contemporary art’. And, I agree. I’m hooked by this video work within seconds. I think the audience must be playing the same game as me in their heads: spot the clock; spot the time; spot the film; spot the television programme. Is it actually keeping to time? Yes, we’re moving forward and a montage of clips progresses through time in real time. I’m on a journey, literally in some clips, with railways clocks keeping me to time. Narratives shift and intertwine as a mixture of genres are spliced. It’s funny, time seems to move quicker than I thought. Perhaps it’s because I’m loving following Marclay’s travels in time, place and context.

Originally shown in 2010 at the White Cube, this is the first time the piece has returned to London and also the first time it’d been exhibited at Tate Modern. The museum acquired the work in 2012 together with the Centre Pompidou, Paris and The Israel Museum, Jerusalem. Today I last an hour and a half but I’ve been back again since to experience different times. Do go. You’ve got until 20 January 2019 so there is time...

https://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/exhibition/christian-marclay-clock