Showing posts with label Royal Academy of Arts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Royal Academy of Arts. Show all posts

Monday, 26 September 2016

Abstract Expressionism - Royal Academy of Arts

Franz Kline, Vawdavitch, 1955
Abstract Expressionism is at the Royal Academy until 2 January 2017.
It is hard, now, to imagine the impact of the exhibition New American Painting at the Tate Gallery in 1959 – it was the first significant showcase in this country of the work of the Abstract Expressionists. It must have been both exhilarating and bewildering: it received both admiration and derision. British abstract painters such as Basil Beattie and the late Albert Irvin have attested to its revelatory effect. Remarkably this is the first large scale survey of the movement since that exhibition more than 50 years ago. So this is very exciting!
(There have, of course, been recent major surveys of individuals such as Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko – but this is a wonderful opportunity to see the richly varied work of this school of artists all together and it includes some who have been little seen in the UK, for example, Joan Mitchell and Clyfford Still.)
The 1959 exhibition was organised by the Museum of Modern Art, New York and toured to several locations in Europe. Although it was met with some scepticism – one French critic asked ‘Why do they think they are painters?’ (1) it helped to cement the reputations of the Abstract Expressionists and decisively established New York as the capital of modern art in place of Paris. Whether or not one takes seriously the promotion of this art movement as American state sponsored (CIA) propaganda and an instrument in the Cold War (the individualistic, advanced, abstract art was proposed as an emblem of freedom and democracy in telling contrast to the rigid, rule bound sterility of Socialist Realism) the scale and daring of Abstract Expressionism at its best can be truly thrilling.
All the major names are in the show – Arshile Gorky, Willem de Kooning, Mark Rothko, Franz Kline, David Smith, Jackson Pollock, Barnett Newman, Ad Reinhardt, Joan Mitchell, Philip Guston – and more. Highlights include Pollock’s Mural (which I was lucky enough to see in Berlin earlier this year, see below) and Blue Poles – this painting generally gets a big thumbs up from critics (Laura Cumming: ‘magnificent’; Mark Hudson: ‘stunning’) yet in a filmed interview made for the OU in 1982 Clement Greenberg (the key critical voice supporting Pollock) says “Blue Poles was a failure – as Jackson himself recognised”. I am also looking forward to seeing Joan Mitchell’s work, since I can’t recall ever having seen any before, and Clyfford Still’s paintings. I knows Still’s work principally from a solitary (I think) example in the Tate and through reproductions – obviously this is not a good basis for judgement, yet I have always been rather dismissive of what looks to me as rather banal work lacking the subtlety, elegance or invention of his peers – yet he is written about with considerable respect and is substantially represented in this show. I look forward to forming a more considered judgement!
Read reviews by Waldemar Januszczak, Laura Cumming, Adrian Searle, Mark Hudson; read a feature article by John-Paul Stonnard.
(1) Erika Doss (2002) Twentieth Century American Art, OUP, p127
(2) Open University (1982) Greenberg on Pollock: Interviewed by T.J. Clark, OU/BBC
(Click on images to enlarge.)

Jackson Pollock, Male and Female, 1942-43
Arshile Gorky, Water of the Flowery Mill, 1944
David Smith, Star Cage, 1950
Willem de Kooning, Woman II, 1952
Jackson Pollock, Blue Poles, 1952 (detail)
Mark Rothko, Yellow Band, 1956
Willem de Kooning, ...Whose Name was Writ in Water, 1975
Joan Mitchell, Salut Tom, 1979
Installation view of works by Clyfford Still

Monday, 14 March 2016

Painting the Modern Garden: Monet to Matisse - Royal Academy

Claude Monet, The Japanese Bridge, c1923-5
(The following review is published in Landscape Issues, Vol.15, Nos.1 & 2, May 2016)
Claude Monet is undoubtedly the star of this huge show – supported by a cast of some 40 other painters. Although the exhibition title signals a historical span bookended by Monet and Matisse, it is notable that the later giant of Modern art is represented by a paltry two paintings to Monet’s 35 or so.
It is, nevertheless, quite fitting that this should be so: given the premise of the exhibition, that many pioneers of modern painting were enthusiastic gardeners, and engaged in a productive dialogue between the possibilities of horticulture and painting, Monet is in a league of his own. Not only did his garden at Giverny become the exclusive subject of his painting, but the garden itself was a work of art. Monet was no mere Sunday-gardener, he was nothing less than a landscape architect. Over a period of 40 years, from 1890, he developed and extended a country garden into a 6-acre composition of foliage and flowers; eventually he was able to employ 6 gardeners and divert a local river to create the famous water garden with its iconic Japanese bridge. Monet declared that his garden was his studio.
The period spanned by the exhibition – roughly 1864 to 1928 – was, art historically, one of extraordinary invention and experiment. Modernism was forged in wave after wave of avant-gardism: Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, Fauvism, Cubism, Futurism, Dada, Surrealism. Broadly, this is a story of escalating ‘difficulty’ in painting – difficulty for the viewer, that is, as what was seen in paintings became increasingly disconnected from what could be seen in the natural world and increasingly engaged with psychology, abstraction and provocation, to say nothing of revolutionary politics.
Understandably, there is little of that revolutionary ilk here – the section rather cornily labelled ‘avant-gardeners’ does present some of the major figures of that extraordinary period – Van Gogh, Klimt, Klee, Kandinsky, Nolde, Matisse – but, Nolde and Klimt, aside this fairly tame section feels like a distraction from the main business of supplying visual pleasure and, in particular, the pleasure of flowers.
The overriding aesthetic ethos of this exhibition is Impressionism. It is hard, now, to believe that Impressionism was ever shocking. Impressionism may have initially, and briefly, provoked a negative response – to a public and to critics weaned on polished, academic pictures, the brushy smudges of pure colour seemed unfinished and hard to ‘read’ – but, eventually, once the idea of a spontaneous response to the play of light on the natural world was grasped, the movement became, and remains, immensely popular. While more radical avant-gardism was intent on épater les bourgeois the Impressionists forged an art that was bourgeois to its core, intent principally on visual pleasure. Impressionism combined here with gardening is a cast-iron crowd pleaser.
The exhibition is, indeed, rich in visual pleasure for both the connoisseurs of painting and of horticulture – though, perhaps, less reliably so for the latter. The joy of Impressionism is that the painters played fast and loose with the visual sensations offered by the sunlit scenes before them so that flowers become sensuous smears of red, orange, white and blue rather than botanically accurate representations.
Overall, I think there is more to be learned here about the development of modern painting than about the ‘modern garden’ of the title. Highlights include marvellously ethereal paintings by Berthe Morisot (Woman and Child in a Meadow, 1882) and Edouard Manet (Young Woman among Flowers, 1879); Max Liebermann’s Flowering Bushes by the Garden Shed, 1928, rendered in thick, dense, glossy smears of paint; Joaquin Mir y Trinxet’s intense veils of colour in Garden of Mogoda, 1915-19; Emil Nolde’s slabs of deep blue, bright red, yellow and green forming a solid wall of blooms in Flower Garden (O), 1922; and Gustav Klimt’s cascade of flowers in Cottage Garden, 1905-07. Perhaps one of the oddest, yet most interesting, paintings is Henri Matisse’s The Rose Marble Table, 1917: the salmony-pink, octagonal table, stands against a predominantly brown ground relieved only by some dark green foliage; on the table’s perspectivally tilted surface is a small basket and three small green spheres of what might be fruit. The uncharacteristic gloom of this picture, by a typically joyful painter, is ascribed to then ongoing horrors of the Great War.
Finally, however, the show belongs to Monet. Three rooms are devoted to his paintings. In the first, situated in the middle of the exhibition, are paintings executed from around 1895 to 1905: some of his much reproduced paintings of the Japanese footbridge across the pond in his garden are so familiar that they seem like clichés; however, the paintings of water lilies and swathes of blossom are seductively subtle essays in colour and form. The other two rooms form the climax to the exhibition and are simply stunning. In the first of these The Japanese Bridge c1923-25 is a dense shimmer of deep, rich reds and greens dissolving the form of the bridge so that it is only just perceptible.
The final room is spectacular. On one side is the huge Water Lilies (after 1918) - a 4 metre-wide haze of pale yellow-greens within which occasional highlights of orange-red flowers glow. And opposite is the truly immense triptych, Water Lilies (Agapanthus), c1915-26, altogether some 12 metres wide: this stands not just as the apotheosis of Monet’s career as a painter but is pregnant with the then future possibilities of painting and abstraction. Magnificent.

Richard Salkeld.
(Click on images to enlarge.)
Edouard Manet, Young Woman Among Flowers, 1879
Gustav Klimt, Cottage Garden, 1905-07
Emil Nolde, Large Poppies, 1908
Emil Nolde, Flower Garden (O), 1922

Santiago Rusiñol, Glorieta VII, Aranjuez, 1919
Joaquin Mir y Trinxet, The Artist's Garden, c1922
Claude Monet, Water Lilies, after 1918
Claude Monet, Water Lilies (Agapanthus), c1915-26 (detail)
Claude Monet, Water Lilies (Agapanthus), c1915-26 (installation view)

Tuesday, 7 July 2015

Joseph Cornell - Royal Academy

Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Pinturicchio Boy), 1942-52
Joseph Cornell: Wanderlust is at the Royal Academy until 27 September 2015.
I love Joseph Cornell's work even though it is rich in qualities that I generally dislike or resist (in art and in life): whimsy, sentimentality, nostalgia, fantasy, surrealism. However, there is a poetry in the best of his work which completely transcends those tropes. His boxed (sometimes 'caged') assemblages of found objects - balls, bottles, feathers, shells, maps, photographs - achieve a deeply affecting melancholy and mystery which make them much more interesting than the sum of their parts. Film stars and faces from Renaissance paintings trapped in arcane 'slot machines' gaze out sadly; maps, souvenirs and labels evoke the romance and 'memory' of foreign travel never taken. Assembled by a shy man, who lived at the gloriously named Utopia Parkway (New York), these objects constitute a remarkable and visionary body of work.
Read a feature article by Olivia Laing and reviews by Laura Cumming, Alastair Sooke, Martin Gayford, Rachel Cooke and Jonathan Jones.
Click on images to enlarge; NB images have been selected before visiting the exhibition so may not all be included in the show.
Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Soap Bubble Set), 1936
Joseph Cornell, Tilly Losch, c1935

Joseph Cornell, L'Egypte de Mlle Cléo de Mérode, cours élémentaire d'histoire naturelle, 1940
Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Penny Arcade Portrait of Lauren Bacall), 1945-46
Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Medici Princess), c1948
Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Medici Prince), c1952
Joseph Cornell, Untitled (The Hotel Eden), c1945
Joseph Cornell, Habitat Group for a Shooting Gallery, 1943
Joseph Cornell, Toward the "Blue Peninsular", 1951-52