Tuesday, May 31, 2011

modern art in a great epoch

photo by Magdalyn near Saint Germain des Prés




Opinions on modern art are not in short supply, they never have been. They probably never will be. One could question, however, if radical new theories on art and art making will come to the fore. A decade before Charles Baudelaire's pivotal essay, The Painter of Modern Life, emerged, solidifying the author as the champion of modernity, another Parisian (probably many others) had already walked the new boulevards with eyes open.


"In art, and modern art (I say modern art because it seems to me that it undergoes a transformation in each epoch), nature around us is the only domain of the artist, that his epoch, the beautiful things happening there, the diverse characters, the passions, the very beautiful nature around us, the smallest objects which strike our eyes, have great interest.
We are, it seems to me, in a great epoch, we enter onto a path which is truth, nature."

- Henri Fantin-Latour, 15 novembre 1855

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

prey of a thorn

Bronzino, An Allegory with Cupid and Venus, 1545ish, National Gallery, London








This is the centre of the maze on the placemat at that restaurant where the food is not great but kids stayed entertained. The maze actually is the National Gallery and I am the purple crayon making her way through the spirals and turns until I arrive here, parking myself for a length of time.








It captivates me. Every time I see it another figure seems the most prominent. The colour is pure, the stylistic liberties mesmerising, the sensations strangely modern in spite of its obvious classisms. More than this is the aforementioned allegory itself. It is, to me, a rabbit's warren. Among others, Love, Pleasure and Play engage with Folly, Jest, Oblivion, Jealousy and Despair; together they are all revealed by Father Time. To me it reflects poignantly the multi-faceted nature of human interaction. Nothing is simple. There is always beauty to be found, usually along side a darkness; note even our curly-headed rose-thrower has fallen prey to a thorn in his foot.