Ebook Gallery

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 His recordings of these became the powerful series Disasters of War, which would go unpublished until thirty years after his death.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.

→ Read more

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.

Art incites great passion. Individual artworks are adored and people become devoted to particular artists. On the flip-side, however, this strength of feeling can equally well be a negative one- many pieces of art are passionately hated.

This hatred and anger often prompts the destruction of artworks, in protest at what they represent. When a leader is overthrown, we often see news footage of their statues being toppled. In 1776, George Washington’s troops actually used a statue of King George III as a weapon- melting the lead to make thousands of bullets to fire at the British. In a more personal protest, in the 1600s Royalist Prince Frederick Duleep Singh, who had a great parlour filled with portraits of the royal family, hung a portrait of Oliver Cromwell upside down amongst them. After his death it was given to Inverness Art Gallery, where it has been hung upside-down ever since.

Madonna and Child c.1475–90
Winchester Cathedral
Photo © Dr John Crook

Although nowadays we are more likely to hear of members of the public running amok in public galleries, 500 years ago it was the English authorities who were destroying the people’s art, rather than trying to protect it. During the Reformation and after, the King’s men attacked and demolished religious art, fearing the people were worshiping it- so successfully that only around ten percent of British medieval art survives today.

Christ before Pilate, unknown painter, c. 1400- 1425. Egg tempera on panel, 29.8 x 33 cm. Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge.

In the early 1900s, attacking artworks became a favoured method of protest for the Suffragettes in their demands for the vote for women. They targeted numerous British paintings during 1913-1914, choosing idealised and adored images of women by male artists, in protest at the contrasting, terrible treatment that many real women received.

These angry ladies’ methods clearly hit a nerve, since gallery directors considered banning women from their establishments. Destroying artworks always prompts outrage and draws attention, making it an effective method for those wanting their voice to be heard. Artworks were still being targeted in the name of women’s rights in the 1980s, when Allen Jones’ Chair was damaged on International Women’s Day in 1986.

Allen Jones, Chair, 1969. Acrylic paint on glass fibre and resin with Perspex and leather, 77.5 x 57.1 x 99.1cm. Tate Modern, London.

This past year has seen a resurgent spate of attacks on art in Britain, as a Rothko was targeted at the Tate and the campaign group Fathers4Justice has followed the example of the Suffragettes and called for independent acts of protest. Both a Constable painting and a recent portrait of the Queen have been defaced with the word ‘help’ in the capital in recent months.

So is this use of violence against art ever justifiable? Are the artworks just innocent pawns in political games, or do their messages make them a legitimate target? A new exhibition at Tate Britain is the first to explore the history of physical attacks on art in Britain, and looks too at the way many artists are now using violence as a creative force. Check out Art under Attack: Histories of British Iconoclasm until 5 January 2014. Or if you want to read more about religious art, have a look at Ernest Renan’s Christ in Art or Nikodim Pavlovich’s Icons.

G.A.

Felix Vallotton tried his hand in many art forms, ranging from landscapes to woodcuts to printmaking. While he is probably most celebrated for his nudes, his woodcuts speak more to his talent as an artist.

In his paintings, his palette choice, technique, and subjects (usually naked women) manage to capture the attention on any onlooker. But his woodcuts contain a richer and more mysterious meaning.

The woodcut entitled Money (below) presents a scene between a man shrouded in darkness and a woman, whose white dress lends her an air of innocence. While at first I considered the man to be a predator and the woman to be a helpless victim of his advances, the title eventually convinced me that the woman probably plays a greater role than she first suggests. Rather an innocent, damsel in distress, could she instead be money-hungry prostitute luring her next client through cold demeanour?

Felix Vallotton, Money, 1898
Woodcut

That is the beauty of Vallotton’s woodcuts. → Read more

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