Ebook Gallery

Many people are acquainted with Stockholm syndrome, in which hostages develop feelings of sympathy or even defend their captors, but how many know of Paris syndrome?

Typical to French style, Paris syndrome is much more romantic and far less violent than Stockholm syndrome. The intense idealization of France has deluded people into thinking that Paris lies at the top of Mount Olympus, that croissants are the baked version of ambrosia, and that the language is lovelier than a siren’s song. Some people, when they finally land at Charles de Gaulle airport and step into their Eden, suffer psychiatric symptoms – Paris syndrome.

Camille Pissarro, Avenue de l’Opéra, 1898.
Oil on canvas, 73 x 92 cm.
Musée des beaux-arts, Reims.

A handful of tourists a year suffer hallucinations, paranoia, anxiety, and dizziness among other symptoms. Interestingly enough, this has only occurred to Japanese tourists, with at least twelve Japanese tourists a year being flown back to Japan for medical reasons.

With a 24-hour hotline at the Japanese embassy in Paris for the purpose of addressing this disorder, which only plagues about twelve people a year in one geographic location, Paris syndrome is probably the most hotly-addressed medical concern.

Paris syndrome is accepted as a transient psychological disorder (it has its own Wikipedia page and has been referenced in medical journals), but it is a case of extreme culture shock and unrealistic expectations. Very little science lies in this diagnosis.

Paris (and France in general) is a place of love and beauty, being home to many talented artists and a rich history.

Vincent van Gogh, Café Terrace at Night, 1888.
Oil on canvas, 80.7 x 65.3 cm.
Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo.

If you’re too afraid of visiting France for fear of catching Paris syndrome, take the safer route and visit the exhibition Passport to Paris at the Denver Museum of Art, running until February 9, 2014. Or grab a copy of Parkstone International’s latest books on Claude Monet, Edgar Degas, or Camille Pissaro to enjoy a piece of French culture.

-D.R.

Sorry, this entry is only available in German.

Sorry, this entry is only available in Spanish, German and French.

Admittedly, Goya never actually took photos. But replace his pencil and etching tools for a camera and Goya was predating the practice of objective war photojournalism by centuries. During the terrible Peninsular War of 1808-1814, the artist visited the Spanish countryside and witnessed unimaginable horrors. His recordings of these became the powerful series Disasters of War, which would go unpublished until thirty years after his death.

Grande Hazaña ! Con muertos ! (Great deeds! With dead men!), c. 1812-1815, Disasters of War, plate 39, etching with wash, 15.5 x 20.8 cm

Goya completed these works for himself, recording simply what he saw and what drew his attention, rather than what any patron wanted to see. Although taken individually they could be powerful propaganda, as a whole the series takes no sides. Goya portrays with equal attention and vivid realism the atrocities committed by both French and Spanish guerrilla troops. A look at the Disasters of War will leave you horrified by the things that humans are capable of, no matter the cause or allegiance.

Y No Hai Remedio (And there is no help), c. 1810, Disasters of War, plate 15, etching, drypoint, burin and burnisher on paper, 14.5 x 16.5 cm. Scottish National Gallery, Edinburgh.
Image: http://www.nationalgalleries.org/

Many of Goya’s most powerful works were uncommissoned – The Third of May 1808 is a strong case in point. However, Goya was also an official court painter for much of his life, welcomed into the heart of royal life to observe and paint its members. Add into the mix his arresting series dedicated to the sport of bullfighting and the witty, detailed social commentary of his tapestry cartoons and Goya offers us an incredibly broad view of the Spain that he knew. The Pinacothèque de Paris is dedicating the second exhibition in its series entitled Painters, Witnesses of their Time to the Spanish artist, for exactly these reasons. Goya and Modernity also takes a look at his original and highly personal style and his resolute urge to criticise the evils he saw in society. Not for nothing is Goya famously know as the ‘first modern artist’.

To read more about this fascinating artist, check out Sarah Carr-Gomm’s book on Goya, or Jp. A. Calosse’s from our Mega Square collection.

Goya and Modernity is showing at the Pinacothèque de Paris until 16 March 2014.

G.A.

Selfie-fever has reached its pitch and now even Obama and Dave are getting involved. Two days ago, the pair took a much-commented-on shot with the Danish PM. Why all the attention? Because they were attending Nelson Mandela’s memorial service at the time.

David Cameron, Helle Thorning-Schmidt and Barack Obama taking a selfie at Nelson Mandela’s memorial service in Johannesburg, 10 December 2013.
http://cbsnewyork.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/obama-selfie.jpg?w=625&h=352&crop=1

Many people have reacted strongly, declaring the selfie entirely inappropriate and disrespectful. Others have come to the leaders’ defence, claiming that a memorial service should be a time for celebration and that there’s nothing wrong with a good dose of joy.

This is just the latest in a series of headlines made by the selfie phenomenon. It has been named as ‘Word of the Year 2013’ by Oxford Dictionaries and The Guardian have just offered up their ‘selfie awards’ for the year (read more here). Selfies at funerals are apparently now in fact their own trend, and this blog has tasked itself with collecting them for public viewing.

Back in the day, a self-portrait was a time-consuming creation. Think of the hours that introspective Van Gogh must have dedicated to the dozens that he produced. But no longer. Now, everyone is an artist thanks to the wonder of camera phones and their myriad of apps.

Image from: ponderabout.com

Is this ability to constantly document our activities and look-of-the-day an entertaining way to record memories and to be creative? Or is it encouraging an onslaught of narcissism and detracting from the value of a carefully-crafted self-portrait? Perhaps Mandela would have liked to know that the attendees of his memorial service were enjoying the chance to get together and having some fun doing so. After all, he wasn’t averse to an artistic pose or two himself, it seems…

Nelson Mandela

G.A.

Sorry, this entry is only available in German.

When we hear ‘nude’, for most of us the image of a female body would immediately spring to mind. One of Titian’s fleshy, languorous beauties perhaps, or self-possessed Olympia and her hostile black cat. This is unsurprising, considering the proliferation of female nudes dominating art in the recent centuries. Before the 19^th century, however, the male nude was considered much more important to artists. The male body was thought more attractive and the more important of the human forms. So much so that looking at many works from the Italian Renaissance, you would be forgiven for seeing men with a couple of breasts stuck on for fun, rather than a female body.

Michelangelo, Night, detail of the tomb of Julius de Medici, 1525-1527. Marble, length: 194 cm. Medici Chapel, San Lorenzo, Florence.

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Sorry, this entry is only available in German.

Sorry, this entry is only available in German.

Tea ceremonies, bullet trains arriving to the exact second, intricately dressed, immaculate geisha and the importance of keeping face: these common images of Japan conjure up the notion of a highly-controlled and conservative society. Graphic images of enormous penises and a woman being pleasured by an octopus are not, perhaps, what you might expect. And indeed for the last century and a half the explicit art of shunga, or ‘spring pictures’ has been taboo in Japan- yet this only came about once the country began to absorb Western cultural influences.

Kinoe no komatsu (Pine Seedlings on the First Rat Day (or Old True Sophisticates of the Club of Delightful Skills)).
Katsushika Hokusai, 1814.
Woodblock print, 18.9 x 26.6 cm.
British Museum, London.

Before the late-19^th century, the Japanese did not share the dominant Western idea that fine art and pornography were very separate things, with different purposes, and that the latter was indecent and offensive and should be kept hidden away. In Japan, shunga was a part of everyday life, enjoyed by all sectors of society and by men and women alike. These sexually-explicit prints, paintings and illustrated books were carried around, scrolls tucked into sleeves, and were proudly shown off in homes. Samurai often carried shunga into battle as talismans for protection. Also known as warai-e, or ‘laughter pictures’, these images are often humorous, addressing the funny side of sex. In one colourful print we see a pair of lovers hiding under a mosquito net during a thunderstorm- along with her cuckolded husband, looking distinctly (and unsurprisingly) fed up.

Shunga print showing lovers and cuckolded husband hiding under a mosquito net during a thunderstorm (indicated by the stylized pattern entering through the window).
In the style of Suzuki Harunobu, c.1769-1770.
Colour woodblock print, 18.7 x 24.8 cm.
British Museum, London.
© The Trustees of the British Museum

Seen from a Western perspective, shunga may at first appear little different from our prolific images of women portrayed as objects of desire. Yet shunga was made for men and women alike, and shows both of their pursuits of pleasure, as well as images of homosexual love (and the occasional tryst involving an animal –such as the aforementioned octopus). Sex in all its forms is shown as a source of enjoyment, rather than shame. This shame only began to be associated with sex and shunga when Japan decided to ‘modernise’ its society in order to become a part of the international community. Still taboo in Japan even today, only now are we starting to see more of this beautiful, uninhibited art.

The British Museum has one of the world’s greatest collections of shunga and is now offering us the chance to see it in its new exhibition, Shunga: Sex and Pleasure in Japanese Art (on until 5 January). Watch its curator, Tim Clark, introduce the exhibition here: http://www.britishmuseum.org/whats_on/exhibitions/shunga/about.aspx. Or to read more about the works of the greatest Japanese shunga artists, check out our books on Hokusai and Utamaro.

G.A.