See "Jacob Zuma painting vandalised in South Africa gallery"
BBC News, 22/05/2012, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-18159204
(After) Brett Murray's "The Spear"
See "Jacob Zuma painting vandalised in South Africa gallery" BBC News, 22/05/2012, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-18159204
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Mark Rothko's Orange, Red, Yellow (1961) has sold at Christie's New York for $86,882,500.
This comes just a few days after a version of Edvard Munch's The Scream was auctioned for $119,900,000. That's a combined total of $206,782,500 for a couple of bits of colourful cardboard and canvas. Precisely one week ago I was a pilgrim. My destination was a high temple of mammon in the bustling heart of the metropolis. The culmination of my pilgrimage was inside: it lay in silent, pristine isolation within a darkened room flanked by two acolytes. Such was its sacred value that I was obliged to remain two metres from the object that had prompted my journey. Long had I travelled, yet still there remained a distance between me and the object of my desire. This, alas, made it impossible to read the sacred text inscribed onto the reliquary. However, I knew what it said because the same prophesy had been reproduced in large letters on the wall of the antechamber: "... I felt a loud, unending scream piercing nature." It was here that other canonical stories were told alongside portraits of the great creator and reproductions of other icons he had produced. The end wall of the anteroom was entirely taken up with a painted image of a prophetic sky. The flowing lines of red and yellow in the heavens found an echo in the procession of pilgrims waiting expectantly. The long, snaking queue they formed was surveilled by more attendants. By this stage the congregation had already passed through two layers of security: one at the entrance to the temple and another at the opening to the antechamber. A third barrier awaited us at the very threshold of the relic room. Holy water and other fluids had to be left at the gate. Recording devices were forbidden, presumably for fear of draining the object of its power. And then - oh joy of joys - I found myself before the one thing that I knew I could never possess. And yet - for the two minutes that I was able to be in its presence - it was mine. The jewel was dazzling in the darkness. The reds burned my eyes. But my troubled soul was eased. For are we not told again and again that we live in the age of angst? Hell and damnation are just around the corner. The future is to be feared. We find temporary salvation in past perturbations: sunken ships being particularly popular just now.(1) What better way to silence past pains and future fears than to stand before a silent scream of anguish? And it was now or never: the relic might never be accessible to me again. This is because it stands at a liminal moment between private ownership and public auction. Perhaps its future owner will opt to be cremated with the relic in a last desperate attempt to disprove the adage that there are no pockets in a shroud?(2) Surely no public institution could scrape together the requisite sum when it goes to auction in New York on 2nd May? Its financial value is boosted by the knowledge that, whilst there are other versions of the same relic, these all exist in public institutions and will thus never come on the market. Oh, how I thanked the great auction house for allowing a humble nonentity like myself to enter their hallowed halls. It was an honour to be at the receiving end of the surly contempt dished out by the officiators and the disdain of their fellow apron-clad operatives. Indeed, it felt as if I had been singled out for special treatment. I stood and queued not once but twice to be in the presence of holiness. On my second visit I lingered longer than my fellow true believers and fell into conversation with one of the acolytes standing guard. I was rather shocked to discover that he was a normal person - a pilgrim like me. Soon the others left. I was alone with the security team and one other person. His accoutrements marked him out as a Very Special Person: around his neck were several cameras. Surely no-one normal could be allowed such equipment, especially of such phallic magnitude as the long lens he held in his skilful hands. I too held something that, I think, helped ensure I was able to dwell a little longer than the others: a pen and notepad. Moreover, my closely cropped hair and rather ridiculous beard perhaps marked me out as someone who just might possibly be out-of-the-ordinary and important enough not to treat with the usual contempt reserved for "the public". Be that as it may, I was able to witness a miracle. For lo and behold, the ceiling began to slide back and in shot radiant shafts of sunlight. What is more, one of the two glass screens standing between me and the relic was drawn aside. This, it transpired, was because The Camera Man worked for a hallowed organisation referred to cryptically as "The F.T." and he was here to take a photograph of the relic and its current owner!(3) The glass was therefore a hindrance - so too was the darkness. So I watched in awe as blinding light flooded into the room. I had a sudden urge to gather together the security team and arrange them into a pose plastique of Caravaggio's Conversion of Saint Paul (after all, we all saw the light but heard not the voice). Surely I could never dream of experiencing anything so wondrous? But what was this? In the cold light of day I noticed that much of the relic's appeal lay in clever lighting. Any old golden-framed scrap of cardboard would have looked special when exposed to such trickery. As the reds and oranges faded in the sunlight I realised that this was no relic. It was a false idol. I remained rooted to the spot. More acolytes came. They were evidently getting increasingly anxious because the owner was delayed doing something else. The crowds outside were lengthening. Something had to be done. So The Scream's screen was replaced and the natural light shut out once more. The room's interior slowly disappeared and the relic shone forth again. Returned to the darkness, I began to castigate myself: Oh, ye of little faith! How could I have doubted my belief in Art? The vision had been there all the time. It was I who had wavered. Soon the chamber was filled with other pilgrims and the two minute rule was enforced. I was ejected and found myself amongst other artworks. But I had been changed by my recent experiences. I began to look more critically at the second-rate relics that surrounded me. These were clearly of a lower order. They were rudely stacked together cheek by jowl. Is it not the case that, when one has been touched by greatest, mere brilliance leaves one disenchanted? This was exacerbated by the fact that I could come as close as I liked to these tawdry things with their million dollar price tags. I sidled up to other images by the same disciple who had produced the relic before which I had just genuflected. One was described as being "Property from a European private collection". Yet four others, apparently of equal authenticity and appeal, were marked as "Property from an important private collection".(4) How curious! Value is clearly not inherent in the relic itself; greatness is at least in part conferred on it by the significance of the anonymous owner. Ownership of a different kind struck me when it came to another work, namely Bridle Path painted in 1939 by the American artist, Edward Hopper (1882-1967). This was described as follows: "Property of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, sold to benefit acquisitions." Isn't that a bit like divorcing a spouse in order to save one's marriage? This got me thinking about the great relic next door. Maybe its cousins in public collections aren't quite as immune from sale as we might suppose? What goes for San Francisco Museum of Modern Art might, one day, apply to Norway's National Gallery or Munch Museum... In an effort to repress this troubling thought, I started to ponder who was behind the present sale - and why? In search of answers I sneaked back to the antechamber and consulted the oracles on the walls. Its vendor is Petter Olsen, a businessman whose ship-owning father - Thomas Fredrik Olsen (1897-1969) - was a neighbour of the artist, Edvard Munch. Olsen junior skilfully deployed the same sort of logic as the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: the work was being sold on the pretext of wishing to establish a new museum devoted to the artist. The text neglected to mention one other interesting fact: the owner's older brother had been disinherited of the majority of the artworks that his father had acquired. This triggered a long and costly legal battle that was eventually won by Petter Olsen.(5) Had his brother Fred triumphed, would he have chosen to flog off his family inheritance like young Petter? All this sibling rivalry sounds like a Nordic version of the story of Isaac and his twin sons Esau and Jacob. Oh, the religious parallels! And what better way to mask the fact that the saga described here is entirely about earthly power and riches than by dressing it up with pseudo-religious paraphernalia? Knowing as I do that "even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table" (Matthew 15:27), I assembled a collection of mementos of my visit. These included the thickest, most luxurious napkin I have ever touched. Embossed on it are silver letters that spell the word: Sotheby's. I also retained an apparently free pen and a leaflet with thumbnail reproductions of the things I had seen. I even bought a special book, the cover of which is embossed with an image of the relic.(6) Eventually I made moves to leave the temple. At the doorway I was met with the anguished cries of those who were told that the queues to see the sacred object had reached such magnitude that would-be pilgrims were being turned away. Finding myself on the streets once more I came face to face with a reproduction of the relic. This too had a certain majesty, courtesy of its glassy, golden architectural surround. People walked by. Yet even these non-believers - who clearly had no wish to enter - murmured to each other in knowing recognition of what they glimpsed in the window. I decided to make my way to another temple known as Forbidden Planet. I arrived to the plaintive cry of a young boy aged about six or seven. Oblivious to his father's attempts to placate him he wailed repeatedly: "I just want to buy something!" This young lad had already learnt one of life's crucial lessons: we consumers are fated never to be satisfied because we know that there is always something better just beyond our reach. That's why Edvard Munch's The Scream is so important. It is at the apex of the consumer market. The ultimate commodity. Tastes will change but its values are - we are led to believe - eternal. Pilgrims of the past used to acquire souvenirs to show that they had been on a pilgrimage. I have a reproduction of one such pilgrim badge depicting the early British Christian martyr, Saint Alban. He is shown in rude health despite having just being decapitated. The scene is all too much for the Roman soldier standing alongside: in his hands he holds his eyes, which have literally popped out of their sockets in disbelief. I travelled to Forbidden Planet to acquire a little memento of my day. And I found the perfect thing: a plastic pigeon complete with plastic pooh.(7) A bargain at £44.99 ("How much?" cried my wife!) This foul fowl will decorate our new home, greeting unsuspecting visitors as they enter. These guests may very well think that they are looking at a pathetic plastic toy acquired by an immature weirdo. Yet they will in truth be in close proximity to pure genius: a plastic piece of the true cross. Just like my battered version of The Screaming Scream seen in the video above. Because, I scream, you scream, we all scream for Edvard Munch's many, many, many Screams.(8) ___ Notes (1) Two such ships currently being commemorated are RMS Titanic (sank 15th April 1912) and HMS Sheffield. The latter saw service during the Falklands War. It was attacked by an Argentine Lockheed P-2 Neptune aircraft on 4th May 1982 and sank six days later. Ten crewmen died - as I heard this morning in a very moving episode of BBC Radio 4's series, The Reunion (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01dmdnb#synopsis). (2) This is a reference to the Japanese businessman, Ryoei Saito. In 1990 he acquired Vincent van Gogh's Portrait of Dr. Gachet for the then record-breaking sum of $82.5m. Rumours have since circulated that he issued instructions for it to be cremated with him when he died in 1996. Its location remains uncertain. (3) The photographer in question appears to have been Charlie Bibby. His highly amusing image was used to illustrate the following article, Peter Aspden, "So, what does The Scream mean?", Financial Times, 21/04/2012, accessed 22/04/2012 at, http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/42414792-8968-11e1-85af-00144feab49a.html. (4) These are, respectively, Edvard Munch's Summer Night (1917, see Woll, Vol. 3, No. 1235); Woman Looking in the Mirror (1892, see Woll, Vol. 1, No. 270); Clothes on a Line in Åsgårdstrand (1902, see Woll, Vol. 2, No. 529); Night in Saint-Cloud (n.d., see Woll, Vol. 3, No. 287); and The Sower (1913, see Woll, Vol. 3, No. 1043). See Gerd Woll's four-volume catalogue raisonné, Edvard Munch: Complete Paintings (London: Thames & Hudson, 2009). (5) Gro Rognmo, "Lillebror Olsen tok siste stikk", Dagbladet, 06/06/2011, accessed 20/04/2012 at, http://www.dagbladet.no/nyheter/2001/06/06/261987.html. (6) Sue Prideaux, Reinhold Heller, Adam Gopnik & Philip Hook, Edvard Munch: The Scream (New York: Sotheby's, 2012). (7) This is a Kidrobot Staple Pigeon. See http://stapledesign.com/2011/11/kidrobot-staple-pigeon. (8) The famous phrase "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream" is from the brilliant film Down by Law directed by Jim Jarmusch (1986): What makes an event newsworthy? This is something I've been pondering in the wake of the widespread coverage devoted to Sweden's minister of culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth. She recently attended World Art Day at Moderna Museet in Stockholm. This was initiated by the Swedish Artists' National Organization (Konstnärernas Riksorganisation, KRO) to mark its 75th anniversary. The jubilee celebration featured a panel discussion around the theme of "Freedom of Artistic Expression and Dialogue with Society".(1) Delegates didn't have to wait long to test the importance of this issue. As part of World Art Day, Moderna Museet provided the venue for a "happening" by the artist, Makode Aj Linde. He produced a large cake in the shape of a naked black woman with his own head peeking out at the top. Aj Linde wailed and screamed as the blood-red sponge cake was cut. The first incisions began at the figure's "clitoris". This is because the artist intended his so-called "genital mutilation cake" to draw attention to women whose lives continue to be blighted by the scourge of female circumcision.(2) One of those wielding the cake knife was the aforementioned Adelsohn Liljeroth. She was subsequently forced to defend her actions following searing criticisms from the National Afro-Swedish Association (Afrosvenskarnas riksförbund, ASR). The image of the laughing politician stuffing her face with cake to the delight of the watching all-white art darlings led a spokesman for ASR to condemn this "racist spectacle" and demand the minister's resignation.(3) Inevitably an affair such as this polarises opinion. But for me its most remarkable aspect is the tremendous global attention it has generated. I can't for one moment imagine that an august publication such as Britain's Daily Mirror newspaper has had much cause to write about Moderna Museet in the past. But its website currently has a large feature devoted to the story accompanied by a series of photographs, including a most unfortunate picture of Adelsohn Liljeroth squealing with delight as she feeds Makode Aj Linde with a slice of his (sic) own vagina.(4) Turning to a source such as Google News reveals that this incident has been broadcast across various platforms and in multiple languages around the world. In the time it takes to cut a cake, Moderna Museet has gained far more publicity than it has been accorded in all the years I have spent analyzing it. Whether this attention is merited is a moot point. The person whose bomb threat led to the temporary evacuation of the museum is unlikely to be receptive to a balanced discussion of Makode Aj Linde's work. However, all this most certainly marks a deliciously apposite high point in Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth's glittering political career. She has been a government minister for more years than I care to remember. Such is her prowess that, faced with the invidious choice of her or Jeremy Hunt for the post of minister of culture, I'd begrudgingly settle for the latter. She really is that awful. Yet hopefully even Adelsohn Liljeroth will have learnt one thing from this fracas: you can't have your cake and eat it (unless, that is, you're Makode Aj Linde and are being fed tasty morsels by a dim-witted politician). Source: http://www.sweden.gov.se/sb/d/7877 Watching Adelsohn Liljeroth scoffing a slice of "genital mutilation cake" brings a whole new dimension to the mantra set out on her official governmental web page: "Culture primarily provides food and energy for the soul" she declares between mouthfuls, before remembering to add in the important bit about making lots of lovely money. ___
Notes (1) "Fira World Art Day och KRO 75 år!" See http://www.kro.se/3561. (2) Luke Harding, "Swedish minister denies claims of racism over black woman cake stunt", The Guardian, 17/04/2012, accessed 18/04/2012 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2012/apr/17/sweden-europe-news?intcmp=239. (3) David Landes, "Minister in 'racist circumcision outrage'", The Local, 17/04/2012, accessed 18/04/2012 at, http://www.thelocal.se/40312/20120417. (4) Natalie Evans, "'Genital mutilation cake is misunderstood': Artist behind Swedish culture minister 'racist cake' row defends his work", Daily Mirror, 18/04/2012, accessed 18/04/2012 at, http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/racist-cake-artist-behind-swedish-798491. My doodle reflects some of the things I learnt when listening to a talk given by Thomas Demand at Nottingham Contemporary.(1) The German artist burbled on about a series of photographs he took of models made by the architect, John Lautner (1911-94). As he spoke, a selection of Lautner's private letters and other ephemera held by the Getty Research Institute (GRI) in Los Angeles were beamed onto the wall. Hence the odd snippets of information from Lautner's life:
The same fate will not befall Mr Demand's own maquettes: he destroys them, thus preventing some future artist from demand-ing that they be co-opted into their own practice. ____ Notes (1) "Thomas Demand in Conversation with Joseph Grima", Nottingham Contemporary, 12th April 2012. (2) This appears to have been his caretaker, Francesca Hernandez. Sketches made using my Sony Reader
at the Hayward Gallery's David Shrigley and Jeremy Deller exhibitions. The Duke of Sutherland is awfully rich. And now he's even wealthier thanks to the £95m of largely public funds that were used to pay for two of his Titian paintings. These masterpieces were produced in the 16th century by an Italian artist for a Spanish king. It's amusing to think that they have now been "saved for the nation". But shouldn't this be "saved for the state"? What happens if Scotland votes for independence? Will the two "nations" get one each? And when will all this nonsense end about saving things for nations? How many paintings would remain in the National Gallery if everything had stayed in its home nation? __________ Source: Stuart Burch, "The national question", Letters to the Museums Journal (UK), issue 112/04, p. 22-23, 01/04/2012, http://www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/comment/01042012-letters "Every day is a new day. Tomorrow isn't that important, yesterday wasn't that important. I really am thinking about today." Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol: From A to B and Back Again Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975, p.6 Yesterday I commented on one of the ways in the British government's budget for 2012 "limits use of tax reliefs and tackles [tax] avoidance."(1) There now exists a cap of 25% of income on those seeking tax relief of more than £50,000. Included amongst these nasty tax-avoidance scams is charitable giving. This, I argued, contradicts the government's clearly stated wish to see large increases in the amounts of money wealthy philanthropists give to the arts. A day later and this contradictory state of affairs becomes even more perplexing. It has been reported that Jeremy Hunt - the culture secretary - has decided to get rid of the current chair of Arts Council England, Dame Liz Forgan.(2) Hunt wants to appoint someone better suited to "increasing the amount of private giving to the arts".(3) Rather than jettisoning the Labour-appointed head of the Arts Council, perhaps Mr Hunt would be wiser to look for scapegoats amongst his specious colleagues at the Treasury? ____ Notes (1) Stuart Burch, "Biting the hand that feeds", 22/03/2012, available at, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/03/biting-the-hand-that-feeds.html. (2) Charlotte Higgins, "Liz Forgan asked to quit Arts Council England when term ends", The Guardian, 23/03/2012, accessed 23/03/2012 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2012/mar/23/liz-forgan-arts-council-england. (3) "Jeremy Hunt to appoint new chair of Arts Council England", press release 035/12, 23 March 2012, available at, http://www.culture.gov.uk/news/media_releases/8936.aspx. Yesterday was budget day. How thrilling! George Osborne, the British chancellor of the exchequer (i.e. finance minister), has now delivered his annual budget to the braying mob in the houses of parliament. In the light of my own particular interests, I searched his report for sexy words like "museums", "culture" and "heritage". The welter of problems facing the economy meant that these were hardly likely to feature very heavily. However, one aspect of note did crop up. This concerned charitable donations made by wealthy philanthropists. It transpires that tax relief on this sort of giving is now capped at £50,000, or 25% of the giver's annual income. Why do this? The answer, it appears, is in order to "curtail... excessive use of [tax] reliefs."(1) And yet, mindful of the negative impact this might have, the Budget Report is quick to add: The Government will explore with philanthropists ways to ensure that this measure will not impact significantly on charities that depend on large donations.(2) Let's hope that their exploration is a fruitful one! The Charities Aid Foundation (CAF) fears that the measure might "strangle" major donations.(3) Given recent reductions in state support for culture and the present administration's supposed interest in non-governmental "big society" initiatives, it is surely bewildering that a disincentive of this nature should be introduced at this time. Can any charitable soul kindly explain the logic behind this sort of political schizophrenia? Please note, however, that they must not under any circumstances devote more than 25% of their time to coming up with a plausible answer. ____ Notes (1) Budget 2012, §1.192 (available at http://cdn.hm-treasury.gov.uk/budget2012_complete.pdf). (2) Budget 2012, §1.193. (3) "Budget 2012: Charities could lose big donors", BBC News, 21/03/2012, accessed 21/03/2012 at, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-17458362. We're all copyright criminals. I can't imagine anyone reading this blog could put hand on heart and claim to be completely innocent of contravening the laws governing intellectual property. How many of us can say with any confidence that they actually understand what the rules are anyway? What percentage of the material on this website is unlawful? Am I at risk of being dragged off to the United States like Mr Dotcom, the founder of the now deceased Megaupload? The rise of an entity such as Megaupload must make the publishing industry look back longingly to the lost innocence of the analogue age. Yet even those more tranquil times were plagued by dastardly pirates. As a young boy I spent many hours recording my brother's LPs onto audio cassettes. Occasionally I would come across the dire warning that "home taping is killing music". This struck me as absurd then. It sounds even more contemptible today. Nevertheless, copyright has always been a deeply contentious issue. A recent case reported in The Art Newspaper captures this perfectly. A British judge has apparently ruled that a photograph used on packs of a certain brand of delicious tea has broken the law. The guilty illustration shows a red London bus driving harmlessly across Westminster Bridge with a desaturated black and white image of the Houses of Parliament in the background. This is similar yet really very different to an existing photograph that uses the same sort of effect. The Art Newspaper has been quick to criticise this judgement "for moving into the realm of protecting ideas, rather than the expression of ideas" and fears that "[t]he ruling could have serious implications for artists who reproduce parts of other photographs."(1) I am indeed fearful for my namesake, Stewie Griffin who adopts a similar technique in the gorgeous video accompanying his quite stunning cover of Bryan Adams' power ballad, "(Everything I Do) I Do It for You"(2). * Meanwhile, The Wall Street Journal reports on the popularity of Pinterest, a resource that allows its nearly 18 million users to "pin" web images to their own virtual scrapbook. This, as the newspaper rightly points out, is a legal minefield. The newspaper characterises how Pinterest works as follows: Each subscriber [to Pinterest] curates a board or boards of photos, and then other users can click on the links to the original source and choose to re-pin the image on boards of their own.(3) This has very strong echoes of John Berger's Ways of Seeing, in particular Berger's thoughts on children and adults "curating" museum postcards on a bedroom or office wall.(4) Berger argued provocatively and persuasively that, "[l]ogically, these boards should replace museums"(5). And so, forty years after the publication of Ways of Seeing, technology now allows Berger's vision to become a reality. Let's just hope that none of the resulting collages of "curated" collections feature iconic red objects set prominently against a familiar black-and-white background. Otherwise the copyright cops will be kicking down bedroom doors in search of seditious scrapbooks, curatorial criminals and the occasional tea leaf.(6) More tea, Stewie? ____ Notes (1) Anny Shaw, "Landmark ruling to be challenged: Why a British judge decided that an image of a bus on Westminster Bridge infringed copyright", The Art Newspaper, Issue 233, 14 March 2012, accessed 18/03/2012 at, http://www.theartnewspaper.com/articles/-Landmark-ruling-to-be-challenged/25891. (2) Family Guy, "Ocean's Three and a Half", season 7, episode 7, first broadcast 15 February 2009. See http://familyguy.wikia.com/wiki/Ocean%27s_Three_and_a_Half, accessed 18/03/2012. (3) Therese Poletti, "Is Pinterest Like Napster on Copyrights?", The Wall Street Journal, 15 March 2012, p. 19. (4) See Emily McEwan's synopsis of Berger's Ways of Seeing at, http://emilymay.wordpress.com/research-papers/john-bergers-ways-of-seeing/, accessed 18/03/2012. (5) John Berger, Ways of Seeing, BBC & Penguin, 1972/2008, p. 30. (6) With this in mind, Sweden's Moderna Museet ought to watch out when it comes to its black, white and red photography collection. See Stuart Burch, "Seeing red", 25/09/2011, accessed 18/03/2012 at, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2011/09/seeing-red.html.
Sculptor: Sir William Wilson (1641-1710), c.1680
William Cavendish, the First Duke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne is notable in Nottingham not Newcastle on the site of a slighted castle that has been unfortified upon the façade of a fired house that is no longer a home above a door that is now a window that looks into a room without a floor of a pioneering public art gallery which has now been privatized behind a paywall. assaulted, belittled, castigated, decapitated, emasculated, flayed, goaded, hobbled, incapacitated, jinxed, kiboshed, lacerated, maimed, nobbled, ostracized, pelted, queered, rubbished, slated, traduced, usurped, vilified, whacked, xoanoned, yoked, zapped Sculptor: Joseph Durham ARA, FSA (1814-77) _ JULIUS LUCIUS BRENCHLEY, BENEFACTOR, BORN at KINGSLEY HOUSE, MAIDSTONE, 30th NOVEMBER, 1816, DIED at FOLKESTONE, 24th FEBRUARY, 1873. After many years of travel, returning to England, he bought, laid out, and transferred to the Maidstone Local Board the adjacent Public Garden, and at his death bequeathed his collections of Natural History, Books, and Works of Art to Trustees, with an Endowment for their preservation and exhibition in this Museum. Alternative plaque:
_ Earlier today I decided to brave the crowds in order to experience Turner, Monet, Twombly at Sweden's Moderna Museet. As so often happens at these so-called "blockbuster exhibitions", the main things on show were the backs of people's heads. This was exacerbated by partition walls inserted into the large gallery space. They made it feel like we were sheep being rounded up into our artful pens. Acting like an art-loving Luke Skywalker in the garbage compactor, I squeezed through a narrow gap at the end of one angled partition. Frantically pushing aside the forest of infrared audio-guides being wielded like lightsabers, I reached a relatively unpopulated scrap of wooden flooring. Despite this comparative lull in proceedings I began toying seriously with the idea of making an early exit. The only reason I decided to stay was thanks to the sharp eyes and keen imagination of a girl who must have been about six or seven years old. She'd clearly been giving her mother an impromptu guided tour because I overheard a slightly frazzled voice asking, "Where exactly is the rabbit?" Following the line of a small finger, my eyes settled on the top left hand corner of a large canvas: "It's up there!" Remarkably, all this eagle-eyed connoisseur got as a reward for her investigative work was a less than convinced, "Oh, um, yes..." And with that, they were gone, leaving me alone with the rabbit. Because it really was a rabbit. Grown-up art historians like the exhibition's curator, Jeremy Lewison would no doubt mistake it for the letter "V" at the start of the word "Victory" in Cy Twombly's unhelpfully labelled work, Untitled (1992, private collection, courtesy Thomas Ammann Fine Art AG, Zurich). Lewison is incapable of seeing rabbits on account of being awed by "the immensity of the sky" and the fact that the canvas features scribbled quotations from the likes of Rilke and Baudelaire. This, he urges, "links [Twombly's] work to feelings of man's insignificance before the infinite, his vulnerability and intoxication."(1) This is great big piles of mystification.(2) I can no more share Lewison's wordy nonsense than I can his insistence that there is a "small boat bobbing on the sea" of Twombly's Untitled.(3) And, anyway, what sort of magician is Jeremy Lewison if he can't even pull a rabbit out of a Twombly? So, next time you find yourself at a blockbuster, ignore all the artspeak mystification and follow a child's logic. Because "sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish".(4) Or, if you're very lucky, a Twombly that's rabbitish. ____ Notes (1) Jeremy Lewison, Turner Monet Twombly: Later Paintings, Tate, 2012, p. 59. (2) Stuart Burch, "Pistoletto piss-take", 17/09/2011, accessed 05/01/2011 at, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2011/9/pistoletto-piss-take.html. (3) Lewison, 2012, p. 59. (4) Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, 4.14, line 2. Cut Croc (or) Lacerated Lacoste __Earlier this month it was announced that a series of London-based museums would be renewing their £10m sponsorship deals with BP.(1) These initials - BP - are derived from "British Petroleum", the name the company adopted in 1954. Some people feel that it is inappropriate for institutions like Tate or the British Museum to accept money from an oil company responsible for such environmental disasters as the Sea Gem oil rig collapse (1965), the Texas City Refinery explosion (2005) and the Deepwater Horizon well explosion in the Gulf of Mexico (2010). However, as the firm is keen to stress, BP means "Beyond Petroleum". Associating itself with art and culture is therefore good for business. But is it good for society? Recipients of financial support - be it in the form of public grants or private sponsorship - need to guard against undue influence or censorship. A cautionary tale is provided by this year's Lacoste Prize at the Musée de l'Elysée in Lausanne, Switzerland. Despite claims to the contrary, it appears that pressure from the sponsor has led to the cancellation of the award.(2) This seems to have been triggered by the Jerusalem-born artist Larissa Sansour and her artwork, Nation Estate (2011-12). Inspired by Palestine's bid for nation status at the UN, Sansour has opted to imagine a dystopian vision of a future world in which the Palestinians have their state in the form of a single skyscraper: the Nation Estate. Surrounded by a concrete wall, this colossal hi-rise houses the entire Palestinian population - finally living the high life. Each city has its own floor: Jerusalem, third floor; Ramallah, fourth floor. Intercity trips previously marred by checkpoints are now made by elevator. Aiming for a sense of belonging, the lobby of each floor re-enacts iconic squares and landmarks - elevator doors on the Jerusalem floor opening onto a full-scale Dome of the Rock. Built outside the actual city of Jerusalem, the building also has views of the original golden dome from the top floors.(3) Executives at Lacoste felt that all this was a far cry from the competition's theme of happiness ("joie de vivre"). Lacoste's sweet little "green crocodile logo" was clearly about to lose its cheeky grin.(4) So the company sought to close the elevator doors on Larissa Sansour's Nation Estate. If this was their intention, then the opposite has transpired. I would never have heard of Larissa Sansour or her thought-provoking sci-fi skyscraper without the helpful intervention of Lacoste. So perhaps private sponsorship isn't such a bad thing after all? ____ Notes (1) Mark Brown, "Galleries renew £10m BP deal despite environmental protests", Guardian, 19/12/2012, accessed 22/12/2012 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2011/dec/19/galleries-renew-bp-deal-protests. (2) "Lacoste Prize cancelled amid censorship row", BBC News, 22/12/2012, accessed 22/12/2012 at, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-16299688. (3) "Nation Estate", accessed 22/12/2012 at, http://www.larissasansour.com/nation_estate.html. (4) "Lacoste logo", accessed 22/12/2012 at, http://www.famouslogos.us/lacoste-logo. MOCA 02/04/2009 An occasional series documenting the first thing one sees in your visitor-friendly museum: the "Do Not..." sign Do Not... MOCA Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles _ |
Para, jämsides med.
En annan sort. Dénis Lindbohm, Bevingaren, 1980: 90 Even a parasite like me should be permitted to feed at the banquet of knowledge
I once posted comments as Bevingaren at guardian.co.uk
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Note All parasitoids are parasites, but not all parasites are parasitoids Parasitoid "A parasite that always ultimately destroys its host" (Oxford English Dictionary) I live off you
And you live off me And the whole world Lives off everybody See we gotta be exploited By somebody, by somebody, by somebody X-Ray Spex <I live off you> Germ Free Adolescents 1978 From symbiosis
to parasitism is a short step. The word is now a virus. William Burroughs
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