検索キーワード： 著者 "Edward Smith" すべてのカテゴリー

Eminent art historian and writer Edward Lucie-Smith discusses an ambitious digital art book series called 100 London Artists, designed to celebrate London as an art city.

Every now and then, an exhibition comes along that hits you in the solar plexus. The compact Daumier show at the Royal Academy in London is one of those. It is housed in the moderately sized Sackler Galleries on the top floor of the building, not in the main exhibition rooms below, where it would be swallowed up. Most of the works on view are quite small. Very few are more than medium sized. For the most part, the color is subdued. Indeed, some of the paintings seem monochromatic until you examine them more closely, The range of subjects is, if not exactly restricted, not hugely wide.

The Gale Dictionary of Psychoanalysis defines ‘self-representation’ as “the image the subject has of him or herself based on his or her own interpretation.” The hugely influential 20th century psychoanalytic researcher and philosopher Jacques Lacan enlarges on this by speaking of “the finally donned armor of an alienating identity that will mark [the subject’s] mental development with its rigid structure.” Not surprisingly, psychoanalysts see this construct as a manifestation of the ego, and also as something intimately linked to narcissism.

The monograph publishes a study of Rembrandt van Rijn and JMW Turner at the National Gallery and Tate Britain in exhibitions of their later works.

"Gothic Nightmares" at Tate Britain in London was an important exhibition, but not entirely for the reasons that its organizers thought. They clearly saw it as a stage in mapping an episode in British art - the rise of the Sturm und Drang, hand-in-hand with a new age of Gothic sensibility in literature - that has, until now, been relatively uncharted. What they almost entirely failed to perceive was its relevance to recent, and even current, developments in British and American art.

Wifredo Lam is by far the most celebrated, and most people would say the greatest, artist produced by the Caribbean region in modern times. His relationship with where he came from is, however, extraordinarily complex - much more complex than most of his admirers suppose, largely because they usually have no direct experience of the region and little knowledge of its social history.

This year sees the 300th anniversary of the foundation of St. Petersburg, an event that is being widely celebrated here in London as well as in Russia. And today The Times of London carried a story about the "widespread sleaze" that is hampering the restoration of Russia's former capital city. Though Oleg Kulik is not a Petersburg artist, these two facts help to provide a context for his career. Western interest in and curiosity about Russia is acute. The tendency is, however, to look at the Russian past, not at the present.

Hammershoi is, in a certain sense, the Danish Vermeer, an artist whom he occasionally paraphrased. That is to say, a quietist painter obsessed by subtle effects of light, forgotten very soon after his death, but rediscovered and turned into a demi-god by a later generation.

The new Gauguin exhibition at Tate Modern in certainly the art event of the year in London. It’s a blockbuster exhibition of a kind that, thanks to the continuing worldwide financial crisis, may soon become extinct. It is also an exhibition that raises important questions about how we currently see and think about art.

Rothko is now one of those mythical artists, an icon of 20th century creativity, the central figure in a tragic legend. Which means to say that one is pretty much compelled to agree that everything he did was wonderful, a manifestation of genius. I have to say that I find myself increasingly resistant to this approach. Some works by Rothko I do in fact respond to, with their glowing blocks of color.

There is an increasing tendency to set up body artists and performance artists - the two categories are often interchangeable - as the real heroes and heroines of the contemporary avant-garde. In fact, we need to look much further back for its beginnings. The first body art performer, as well as the first professional bodybuilder, was the showman, Eugene Sandow (1867-1925). Though Sandow’s heyday occurred before the birth of the Modern Movement, there are compelling reasons for giving the primacy to him.

In the early years of the 20th century, Paris became the center for an international community of artists. Some of them were French, but the city also offered its hospitality to artists from an increasingly wide range of other nationalities. Some, like Marc Chagall, came from communities that had never produced artists of international note before. The result was a mixture between a stewpot and a laboratory.

Art in Puerto Rico occupies a kind of bridge position, between the North American art world one the one hand and the various Latin American and Caribbean art worlds on the other. Puerto Rican artists have easy physical aspects to the United States, and large Puerto Rican colonies in major American cities, notably New York and Chicago, have led to the birth of mixed vernacular cultures. The one in New York is sometimes referred to as Nuyorican, and has a populist downtown vibe that swings the spotlight toward it every time graffiti art returns to fashion.

The new exhibition at the National Gallery in London ought to be yet another triumph for an institution that is now running a very ambitious exhibition program. Yet this event makes a curiously uneasy effect. There are several, not just one, reasons for this. The first is that Rubens, of all great artists the one who enjoyed the greatest degree of worldly success, had distinctly uneasy beginnings. Of sound Flemish bourgeois stock, he was born in 1577 at Siegen in Westphalia.

Flying into Sarajevo is no big deal nowadays. Customs and immigration are quick. You don't need a visa if you hold an EEC passport. Perhaps the only noticeable difference between this and other flights within Europe is a slightly increased degree of airport security. Hand luggage goes through a scanner at two different points, before you board the aircraft. Nor is arrival at the hotel any different from arriving at big chain hotels in other European cities. The Holiday Inn is transatlantic in style, with a big fountain outside and a soaring atrium within. Things are busy - the receptionist leafs through lots of different pieces of paper before finally, and rather reluctantly, locating our reservations. "Do you mind having a room that overlooks the big boulevard? It might be a bit noisy." But when I get there, it's double-glazed, so there is no problem.

The word avant-garde, so much used in connection with the various manifestations of contemporary art, is starting to have a strange, ironic ring to it. One might even claim that it is starting to signify what is behind the times, rather than in front of them. Like all such terms, it is in fact a metaphor, rather than a direct description. Borrowed from old-fashioned military terminology, it seeks to describe a situation where social norms are being perpetually challenged by artists. In the military sphere, where it originated, it is long out of use.

How do we expect public art to function in a contemporary society? By public art, we mean art that to some extent at least ambushes us. We encounter it as we go about our everyday lives, not in some special art-dedicated space. In other words, certainly not in a museum. However, Aida Mahmudova notes, in her introduction to this public art project for Baku organized by Yarat! Contemporary Art Space, conditions for public art are now very different from the way in which art of this kind operated previously.

The story of David Burliuk, now generally regarded as the father of Russian Futurism, is in some ways one of the strangest in the history of the Modern Movement in art. He was immensely influential in the years immediately before the Russian Revolution, at a time when the whole of the Russian cultural world was in ferment. And fairly soon after that, he was almost forgotten in his own country. This exhibition is, among other things, an attempt to correct an injustice.

We all have friends like that, who promise, and fantasize, and disappoint, then somehow contrive to charm us all over again. In the history of Western art, Leonardo da Vinci is the supreme example of this personality-type, the great non-deliverer. It’s interesting to speculate why his legend remains so powerful. Perhaps, most of all, it is because of his restless curiosity about so many aspects of nature, recorded in notebooks that place him well in advance of his time.

'Black British Style', the current costume show at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, raises a lot of complex issues for someone like myself. I am not black, but I am undoubtedly West Indian. My family have lived in different parts of the West Indies for more than 300 years and in Jamaica for more than a century.