Hannah Starkey ’29 pictures’

Hannah Starkey, celebrated British contemporary, is currently exhibiting a collection of photographs that from the entitling: ’Twenty Nine Pictures,’ would seem fit for a mindless assortment, and yet this retrospective is a highly cohesive, well-formed and prima facie, thematic show of stalwart pictures.

As an important aside, before I launch into an account of the artist’s work viewed at the Mead Gallery, (as I fear I shall never return from the black hole of shear enthusiasm), it is first right that I attribute praise to the curator - Diarmuid Costello, who has laid out a logical and assessable exhibition, with potential to appeal to all….

The work of Hannah Starkey is both charming and thought provoking –something I consider a rare combination. It supersedes contemporary standards for these documentary scenes are neither detached, nor forcefully controversial for the eye. These qualities I find to be the two greatest flaws in work of the moment; that the world can be made to appear utterly hostile via the representation of human indifference, or confrontation. Neither of these properties produces pleasant work, even if they are ‘challenging.’ In opposition, here is a body of work that still oozes intelligence and a newness that contemporary art aims always to achieve.

The twenty-nine pictures are unashamedly composed, expressing the refined beauty and skill the photographer possesses in constructing an aesthetically pleasing, steadfast shot. This is not just the ability to take a striking, accurately focussed picture; it is that which must be held by artists of all descriptions – to lay out colour, line and form across a space in places and of quantities that construct commanding harmony. Starkey introduces patterns into a setting that compliments its reading by the viewer. Primarily these are well-positioned forms that echo shapes throughout - these are highly rhythmic pieces. And in being such, they feel alive, subtracting from them the potentially suppressive atmosphere provoked by her subjects’ melancholy.

In being so formulated, they are playful because close-to all contain artificial subtleties. This becomes a game for the audience – to detect the deceptive element in each photograph by closely observing the patterns weaved into the pieces seen before.

Frequently, Starkey plays with the relationship between the foreground and background, suggesting consequently how the figure feels a part of the natural (of urban) world. This is when a mirror gains creative potential, such as in Untitled, January 2001 and Untitled, September 2008 (seen above.) The detachment is not deep enough to dampen our visual senses - we still feel involved, engaged, interested.

In Untitled, August 1999 (also above) it is a reflection of other sorts – two women stand apart from each other, beneath a spotlight. To their side, a couple of shadowed figures, which appear very similar respectively to the pair, are engaged in friendly conversation. This is to me, a beautifully expressed comment on the pair’s relationship, that is then only further enhanced by the whole photograph being split into two distinct horizontal areas, one sourced by outside light, one lit from the room behind the curtain.

Hannah Starkey’s ‘Twenty-Nine Pictures’ is an effigy to artistic tools used to their greatest potential. She crafts into of a scene: a narrative without saying anything, emotion without attending to the face, and beauty without a banal assemblage of beautiful things.

You’ve just missed the opening! Fortunately this exhibition will be held until 12^th March 2011.

http://www.warwickartscentre.co.uk/events/visual-arts/hannah-starkey

Gauguin: Maker of Myth at the Tate Modern

The success of Tate Modern’s Gauguin: the Maker of Myth exhibition can, in my opinion, be attributed to that fact that as an artist “Gauguin’s no visionary, he’s a schemer” This, perhaps the most insightful description I’ve heard on the work of Paul Gauguin, was beautifully stated by his contemporary Camilla Pisarro. It is as a schemer that Gauguin became crucial for the beginnings of modern art, and it is the art of scheming that is a defining feature of what makes modern art, modern.

The Impressionists represent the visionaries, who sought to capture what they viewed when sat painting en plein-air, discovering a representative romance. They were however, as visionaries, only skirting around modernism, not venturing quite far enough from what they already knew, or far enough into their imagination. It was those who came post the Impressionists, the bohemian radicals such as Paul Gauguin, whose imagination for what art could be, led them to discover the real shock of the new.

To be modern is to scheme so that materials are transformed into a work of art. It is certainly to encompass more than is provided before your eyes, or to your fingertips.

The most dramatic examples of Gauguin’s are those, which exemplify his fearless approach to all elements of colour. The enigmatic Breton Girls dancing Pont-Aven, 1888, depicts three Brittany maidens held momentarily in scalene triangular form – each facing and reaching into their own separate direction. The magic of this is that in all parts of the room, it feels as though they are inviting you in. The light is delightfully different on each face, absorbing into the skin a range of surprising hints, which come to echo the blanket chromaticism of the painting. There is potency to these potentially excessively (but not actually,) variegated and uncomplimentary colours. - This is the daring flair of a successful modern artist.

The palette represents a surprisingly sophisticated soberness of colour – muted limes shade the grass the girls dance upon; pastels lights in the sky highlight the village buildings and shrubbery; and fiery hints define patches of exposed skin otherwise pale, jaundice and carrying ill teals tints. The artist may well have endorsed the archaic Breton stereotypes, but he equips the images with an accurate, if borderline-abstract drama.

The creativity of colour is just one of the ways Gauguin schemes. He is the self-created bohemian artist, he formed himself into a character when he transformed from Bourgeois banker to avant-garde artist. His character became the weight behind his art - where he lacked in formal training, belief in his own abilities became the self-motivator of his career declaring, ‘I am a great artist I know it.’

This is one striking method that modern artists have taken to become the painter-schemer – he/she builds an outlandish character to better advertise themselves by gaining press and selling their art by establishing a celebrity brand. Whether this is Damien Hirst or Andy Warhol, the role of artist persona has been exaggerated to a much greater significance.

Though Gauguin was far from known and popular in the day, this is the most popular exhibition I have ever visited. It seems more than a little ironic that an artist who so fervently sought the primitive past for inspiration, and wished to escape from the art world community, became a leader in modern art. What he did come to represent by doing so however, was an adventurer into new places across the world - to the Pacific and Caribbean islands of Martinique, Masquesas, and most decidedly – Tahiti; and consequently into new places in art via a daringness to discover. Even if new finds are just old things uncovered.

Gauguin: Maker of Myth is at the Tate Modern until 16^th January

http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/gauguin/

This article also features in Warwick’s student newspaper ‘The Boar’

http://media.theboar.org/archive/volume-33/issue-6/newspaper/24.pdf

Venice: Canaletto and his Rivals at the National Gallery

What is it that warrants Canaletto (and let us not forget, his rivals) an exhibition at the National Gallery? What differentiates these paintings from others known for their landscapes – Claude, Turner and Constable? Perhaps, even more pertinent a question ought to be: what differentiates Canaletto from his rivals – Marieschi, Belotto, Carlevarijs and Guardi?

What struck me first about Canaletto’s scenes of Venice, was the glow of warming light that basks the building forming dramatic shadows, and highlights the ripples in the lagoon. Yet, his work is unlike the seventeenth-century hero of the landscape genre, Claude and his inseparable infamous glow. For Canaletto’s brushstroke, composition etc. lacks the fantastical air of Claude’s classical landscapes – the classical that represents the element of mythology - the invented. Therefore I see Canaletto’s landscapes as both more assessable and relational.

It is true that here Canaletto (and his rivals) portray an idealised view of the city – always seen in pleasant weather and complimentary light. However the other aspects of its formal qualities assure us Canaletto’s Venice can be trusted with our eyes. Crisp lines, perfect perspective, well-plotted compositions, and deep shadows – His chiaroscuro is the well balanced mid between natural visual drama and mistrusted melodrama. Such shadows are entirely considered so that they are not a wayward add-on, but factored into the very composition. It seems impossible that even in the darkness of the shadows, there is the warmth of Canaletto.

As far as beautifully painted landscapes and cityscapes go, this is a worthy collection of paintings to view in exhibition. However I must confess, I sped around the six rooms of paintings in under thirty minutes. This is a thematic exhibition of Venetian scenes – you cannot come expecting a menagerie. It will be of no surprise then that I struggled to identify the painting I wished to buy at postcard stand, now in smaller size. It’s an exhibition I’d invite an art lover, traditionalist, or general romantic (to which looking upon pictures of Venice alone conjures up a good reception). In structure it’s strikingly similar to ‘Turner and the Masters,’ where indeed some Canaletto’s and Guardi's were shown, last winter at the Tate Britain. And my belief is that if an artist is to stand up against Turner, that artist will lose.

In terms of how Canaletto measures to his rivals in Venice and at the exhibition, I admired Guardi’s creative tease on the city’s views. Particularly in A Regatta on the Grand Canal c. 1777 the subtle sway of the buildings clustering the riverbank that lean inwards sandwiching the scene together. It’s that light adaptation, like Canaletto’s stark shadows, which become a part of the cohesion of the composition. I did not at all fall for Carlevarijs’ overtly Baroque scenes of Venice in festivities. There is great, refined taste in Canaletto’s paintings that can’t be denied.

The exhibition stays in the Salisbury Wing of the National Gallery until 16 January 2011 -

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/venice-canaletto-and-his-rivals

The Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize 2010, at the National Portrait Gallery

The more I go to photographic portraiture exhibitions, the more the boundary before me of portraiture and documentary photography is blurred. From a very good selection of photographs, five winners were highlighted, of which most had on analysis little more than an interesting story, or exciting location to reason their renown. Naturally, subjective as it is, I hardly ever agree that those awarded at prize exhibitions are the cream of the crop…

Thus, it has led me to consider what makes a good photograph? This has to be a distinct answer to what we ask of a painting. And as a medium of modernity, it is perhaps subject to more change. Subject to the treatment of a commodity. Photography represents the leisure of modern society, the accessibility of all to technology, and the blurring between art and the everyday. Therefore for photography to be a high art, it has to live up to increasing standards and regular jousts of criticism. That said its market is wide reaching, and its works potentially mass-produced. Photography is able to be a driving force of modern art, so it’s worth taking seriously.

My opinion is that, fairly formalistically, a photograph’s quality ought to be recognised in its materiality - That is the aesthetic properties in the design of the photograph. Not, for example then, for its exotic location or sob story, that is often true of much photojournalism, especially, as this is a portraiture exhibition.

Through some of my favourites from the exhibition, a visual delight and a mere £2 entry cost, I will define what I believe makes a memorable and praise worthy work of digital art.

The first, Haitian Woman by Ramin Talaie, is to prove I’m not anti-narrative. It would be hard to see a photograph entitled Haitian Woman and not consider the earthquake of early 2010 –therefore the narrative is silently present. The photographer can instead grip us with his oxymoronic model, who is bold yet fragile. To me it is an image of hope. The history of her very face, recalls the history of the natural disaster in our memories. The memory will not leave her; she cannot look at us to acknowledge that which is outside of the event. However her pose is reminiscent of the Greek gods sculpted into marble, held in contrapposto. She stands firm on neglected land, in a dress that carries a feministic and daring confidence. To me the depiction, the colours, the focus, and composition of this photograph are all fine-tuned perfection.

‘Unsafe Journey’ champions the exhibition. Again, it is not the exotic location that sells this picture to me. It is the undeniable technical skill of the photograph. We look down upon a Bangladeshi woman precariously clings to the back of a train in the packed Ramadan season, cradling herself in a wealth of sari material. Of course there is only one place in which to take this shot, from above, and so we imagine Amy Helene Johansson held to the top of this train unshaken and so taking a picture of her ‘sitter’ in crisp, ironic stillness, where the ground beneath blurs into zigzags and strips of earth colours. The lady seems confused to be photographed, but not anxious by her experience – a pictorially anecdotal image.

An example of well-rehearsed concept is The Solitude of Pygmalion by Steve Barrett, who has redressed the Greek myth of the sculptor he was so astounded by the beauty of his work, that he then fell in love with his creation.

Tony Blaire #1 is certainly my favourite headshot of the show. It embodies the characterization and individualization of a good portrait. As well as flaunting the fundamental benefits of the photographic medium – post shooting editing, there is a soberness of his role reflected in the dull tones, and a haggard effect honouring his hard work, in what I believe is a positive portrait of the politician. His eyes glisten, reminding us he is still alive with ideas, and fixed on a goal.

All these photographs speak for themselves. They are visibly mouthy.

Pictured: ‘Haitian Woman’ by Ramin Talaie

‘Unsafe Journey’ by Amy Helene Johannsson

Don’t miss The Taylor Wessing Photographic Portraiture Prize is at the National Portrait Gallery until 20th February 2011.

http://www.npg.org.uk:8080/photoprize/site10/index.php

The Dizzy of Art

Banksy most be one of the most well-known artists of our generation. Street art as a whole is quickly becoming the twenty-first century’s pop art – the Dizzy Rascal of art. In Coventry, is an exhibition dedicated to the celebrated genre – ‘Street Art: Contemporary Prints from the V&A’, at the Herbert Art Gallery and Museum. What is it then that gains it its edge from other contemporary and past art, and popularity amongst a diverse group?

Street art appeals to the rebellious (a side of which everyone has,) because of the forbidden nature of the medium it has grown out of – graffiti. This is only emphasised by the genre’s leading artist Banksy being a fugitive himself, as though he has to hold his head down in shame.

The unique and refreshing core of street art is that the attention isn’t on the artists themselves, as there is only a tag to track the author’s identity, the emphasis is always the artwork. “I’m just trying to make the pictures look good; I’m not trying to make myself look good,” which Banksy recently stated after The Mail on Sunday claimed they’d discovered the name of the infamous character. The paper reported that the man, based on photo identification is the Bristolian (that we know true) Robin Gunningham. Though this information seems dubious when the mother of the thirty-four year old public school boy denied ever having a son.

What so often distinguishes Banksy’s and others’ genius is the mischievous nature, the wit of exemplar pieces, of which is only really comparable to the Dadaists, and breathes freedom to the rebel. Freedom, firstly found in expression. Much characteristic pieces of work are a comment on an aspect of society – a social or political issue – a form of propaganda, and this appeals to our democratic senses. For example, the print Gaza Strip by Blu, c. 2009, pictures a figure-of-eight racetrack in which alternating tanks and construction vehicles meet each other’s tails. The artist identifies in simple visual form the repetitive nature of destruction and rebuild in the war-ridden Middle East.

Freedom is also from the restraints of traditions in art. It is endearing in this manner because it bridges the gap between what can be perceived as the pretentious world of idealised fine art, and life as we see it – the subjects of these works of art. This highly honest form of pictorialisation, mocks idealised and superficial representation, inserting the figure reality. For example, Banksy’s painting of Van Gogh’s wilted Sunflowers; and sculptures of Venus de Milo and Apollo Belvedere as today’s familiar characters (heroic or not): an overindulging party princess, and proud extremist.

Again this is comparable to the Dadaists, who were essentially anti-artists posed as artists. These examples of street art protest against the beauty that most artists have made it their life aim to achieve a sense of, as though it is a one-sided encounter of life. Street art exalts the underdog, because in many senses it is the underdog.

Moreover the British are fascinated by all perceptions of their own culture. Is this not the reason why we gawk in front of endless hours of reality television programs? By choosing not to view the idealised, utopian, perfect, or beautiful, they present a real, if often borderline angry, view of urban life and culture. Take for example Modern Youth by Kerry Roper. A boy with a polished fresh face of a china doll, and perfectly laid hair of a child featured on a 1960s edition of Blue Peter is hooded, obliviously holds a weapon of war in his right hand almost the size of he. This exhibition exemplifies that most commentary is focussed on the bad, and the ugly – the cynical and critical – rather than the good. However, though often-blatant parody, out of such untainted observations comes thought-provoking truth.

Perhaps my favourite part of the exhibition was ‘Fresh Paint’ a look at six up-and-coming street artists. Included within this was a film entitled Nowhere Near Here by Pahnl. This is a street-level viewpoint of the city of Oxford through continuous motion long exposure shots; over which is laid an animation of a running dog, which we discover at the end is cheerfully chasing an untouchable cat.

This short film pulsates life – it embodies the joy and energy of the city. Surely this is one other reason why street art has become so popular – for so many of our population the cityscape is life. This I believe to one of the key reasons Impressionism is so enjoyed too – it represents (if in very different form) city life.

The film remains true to the subject matter of street art, though lacks some of the other characters mentioned above. However this is no disappointment. As street art becomes more popular, it also expands into a range of disciplines such as film and photography, and purposes. A genre that was once cheap and ugly vandalising, is now a professional and noteworthy art form.

Street Art: Contemporary Prints from the V&A is at the Herbert Art Gallery and Museum in Coventry until 16^th January– free admission.

http://www.theherbert.org/index.php/home/whats-on/street-art

Visual Indigestion

Pop artist, Robert Indiana, stated in interview, “Impasto is visual indigestion.” I am humoured by his analogy but couldn’t be more opposed.

There is no artist before or after Rembrandt that paints a person like he does. The impact of his style is immense. His sitter, his pose, composed and painted by any other and the result would be a painting, but Rembrandt’s is a person – once living, once feeling. It is due to his sensual and personal handling. He sculpts the face through high impasto in oils. Yet it is not modelling alone that defines it alive, for there’s been many artists hundreds of years before who painted a dramatically realistic 3D portrait.

Enter Portrait aged 63 - It is his use of light – real, unidealised, undesirably dinghy, but cosy with dark edges that encase the figure inside further earth tones. It is the vivacity of brush stroke – it feels the motion of life, and lifts the man from the canvas. In some ways also I think it is the lack of crisp vision – our sight circles a person, when we try to make them out, we do not look in once place. Usually, as Self Portrait aged 63 does, we then rest on the face and begin to investigate, but on first sight, we do not remember the exactings of his appearance, but we gain an impression - a very positive one this is.

Turner would not finish a painting if he had created the impression he had hoped to; in fact one of his Royal Academy contemporaries described his technique as not being refined, or methodical, but that he instead ‘drives the colours about [the canvas] till he has expressed the idea in his mind.’ This I admire, as I am very much caught by ideas, but when I see one of Turner’s best, I needn’t any other thought of interest to capture my imagination.

Venice from the Canale della Guidecca, Chiesa di Santa Maria della Salute&., a mouthful, but is absolutely stunning. I cannot find any fault it in. Everything is so well balanced – colour, forms, contrast, technique…The 3D effect is incredible. Yet it doesn’t grow outwards like a sculpture, like relief. It appears like a canvas, that then concaves backwards to form a stage set of surprising depth….

Well-crafted and inserted technique can make a painting. Let’s be frank, art is about aesthetics, and so aesthetics in art can mean everything.

And this, I hope I don’t sound too enthusiastic to add, is also why Rembrandt is to me the champion of the portrait, and Turner the champion of the landscape.

Pictured: ‘A Woman bathing in a stream’ 1654, Rembrandt

‘Venice…’ 1840, Turner

Women – Concealed and Revealed

I think that allegory, embodying abstract ideas inside a persona, is one of the most powerful and creative philosophical tools available to an artist. I’ve become fascinated by how so frequently it is women who are used to express temperaments, characteristics, and even more so: the varying genres of the arts. It’s quite ironic then that an article I wrote a good year back I entitled Beauty is a Woman in reference to Rembrandt’s The Jewish Bride, thinking I’d found a relatively undiscovered and explored idea.

Recently I’ve had the light shone on some 18^th century art, and thus begun to recall some 18^th century pastoral literature, in which I became acquainted with the nine muses. These, the inspiration of the arts: Caliope of epic poetry, Erato of lyric poetry, Clio of history, Euterpe of music, Polyhymnia of choral poetry, Terpischore of dance, Melpomene of tragedy, Thalia of comedy and Urania of astronomy, are personified by the attractive Grecian goddesses; almost like the precursors to the Spice Girls – each to their very own female empowering identity (though, I feel sorry for Scary Spice!)

Is or is this not a compliment to female sex, that, all that is possessed in that creative character is female. It surely elevates the capabilities of the gender? I have found it particularly pleasing and encouraging that painting (right hand figure) pictured in Angelica Kauffman Hesitating Between the Arts of Music and Painting (right painting) and in Artemisia Gentileschi‘s self portrait (left painting), is an alluring female (and is such in paintings by male I do not hesitate to add!) So here’s my thought - If painting’s character is female, surely she is, even more so, insightfully actualised by a female [artist]. Unfortunately the past is proof that this hasn’t been an idea that has struck any significant people – for then female artists would have been all-over-the-shop praised with natural talent! So surely I must be missing something?

Perhaps then this would be too optimistic a view to hold and in fact I am missing the point of women’s involvement. While I see visual arts as essential, and liberal in form – an output of intelligent beings – for much of history, the arts have been underappreciated when compared to other disciplines. In the modern world, science has taken precedence, especially in the Enlightenment (1800s) when what was rational and reasonable gained significant not that which ‘persuade[s] by touching men’s sensibilities…’ as French socialist St Simon (1760-1825) said in ‘The Artist, The Savant and the Industrialist’. So it could be said, that being the inspiration for the arts is a minor role as far as progress is concerned, and that the arts’ importance (and some would say) like women’s is, is concerned by emotional matters.

Does allegory flatter its model? In the tradition of Feminine Portraiture in the Royal Academy at the time of their first president, Joshua Reynolds, allegory such as the Tragic Muse used to represent the tragedienne Sarah Siddons began to cover the sitter’s individual female identity with a generic form that doesn’t record the lady in contemporary social status or noteworthy history. It’s a generalised but true statement that portraiture of females were more commonly idealised than of men.

Now I see also how to be a Beauty, as many female portraits are known as Bellas without the real name of the sitter when lost, is not in fact a compliment upon her radiant looks, but simply eye candy for a male viewer. This opinion of art is very well argued in John Berger’s second essay from Ways of Seeing. Then again, for I hate to leave writings on a negative note, without the inspiration of the muses attributed to the female sex, so many masterpieces would not have existed, and in this case is it a worthy cause for good art?