The Munich paintings: A happy ending? If only.

There is a triumphalist tone in some reports of the recovery of something like 1500 works of art in the Munich apartment of the aged, reclusive son of a Nazi era art dealer. Michael Kimmelman in the New York Times finds it an occasion to cheer that art will "trump even humanity’s most demonic ambitions."  I can understand the excitement; the thrill of finding works like these horses by Blue Rider artists Franz Marc, since my teens one of my favorite painters; works which were thought to have been lost forever. In some accounts it seems that Hildebrand Gurlitt or his widow told authorities that his collection (plus or minus the art he amassed for Goebbels with Hitler's museum at Linz as shall we call it a final destination) were destroyed in the 1945 fire bombing of Dresden. It is exciting to discover that they were not. I long to see them. It can't be anything but good that they survive. But let's get a grip;  Hitler was defeated by his decision to take on the Soviet Union; by his human enemies, their weapons and grit. He was stopped but by the time he was stopped the holocaust had happened. The murder of millions and the destruction of entire civilizations was not trumped, not by 1500 works of art or anything else.  It is moving even thrilling when objects believed destroyed by war turn out to have survived.  Open the champagne but please let's drop the conceit that this is some kind of fairy tale happy ending; that art has the power to make up for, TO TRUMP no less, the vile behavior of men towards their fellows in the past and today.

Size matters or when big is too big and too small is just right

Let's get this over with fast: Paul Klee (1879-1940) painted small pictures. The rooms (do I have to call them spaces) in Tate Modern were not designed with small in mind. They were intended for painters and sculptors creating for museums not places where people live.  "Red green and Violet-Yellow" painted in 1920 is immediately attractive, even pretty, But sit alone with it for half an hour and worlds open up. Fat chance of doing that in this place. The painting is 14 3/4 by 13 1.4 inches (37.5 by 33.7 cm.) -a stretched out one-foot square. This is not a miniature but it looks like one on the walls of Tate Modern. In fact it looks like a postage stamp. The whole show looks like a line up of 3-D stamp albums.  "Revelatory," calls this show. They want us to pay more attention to Klee. 

The artist was slow to find his way until 1911 when he became attached to the Blue Rider group in Munich. See my story "Eye Music" about the Blue Riders in 25 May issue of The Economist .But what really gave him the push to be the Paul Klee we know--or might like to know better if we could concentrate on the works, was his visit to Tunisia in 1914. He and color fell in love. That is when he knew painting was for him.
   This show does not help; it undermines. Either it should have been staged in a more intimate place or a small, cozier space should have been built inside that hulking cavern. Which brings me to Whistler.












There is no one size that James Abbott Macneill Whistler (1834-1903) favored but many of the works on view in "Whistler and the Thames," at the Dulwich Picture Gallery range from sketches smaller than a sheet of paper to paintings you could easily tuck under one arm.  The museum's limited special- exhibition space, two modest rectangles connected by a long narrowish corridor are just the right for the size and scale for these often moody, poetic works; the drawings for them and the Japanese prints that inspired him.
"Nocturne: Blue and Gold--Old Battersea Bridge," (1872-79) to the left, was painted about a dozen years after the American settled in London.  It measures about 36 by 30 inches. "Variations in Pink and Grey: Chelsea" (1871-2) measures 24 by 13 inches.  You get the idea. These rooms are not so small that the pictures looked cramp or the viewer gets claustrophobic. Instead they and their proportions, and for that matter with all the numbers that have already appeared here, 

you forget all that sort of stuff and just look and wonder and envy Whistler a little too, his walks along the river; the models dressed in Japanese kimonos with cherry blossom branches strewn on the balcony overlooking the Thames; fishermen drinking in "The Angel" at Bermondsey; London a port and the Thames crowded with working boats. "The Pool," 1859 just east of London Bridge. Go out to Dulwich--it is worth the trip which they claim takes only 20 minutes. You will quickly enter Whistler's world--and the river at whatever time of day and season. It is a lovely show. And if you can't make it, the accompanying book is a treat. In addition to all the paintings, etchings and sketches there are photographs of the river and London's riverside and one of Whistler at work; against one wall  is propped a larger than life-sized portrait of his lover Maud Franklin. His studio had plenty of space for such a work. Dulwich is picture perfect for Whistler's Thames.  

Leonard Lauder; the giver who keeps on giving

"Focus, Focus,Focus" is my story about Leonard Lauder and his billion dollar gift of cubist art to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It is in print (and on line) in this week's The Economist. More about the story will be posted here soon.
  Latest post here is Surprise: Curators are people, too.

Surprise: Curators are people, too.

First the gripe--also known as statement of fact: Museum exhibition catalogues are often written by curators who may know a lot but who usually seem to be talking to themselves, the person in charge of promotions, or a couple of colleagues. The focus is often as painfully narrow as pointy toe shoes. Boring. Irritating. Apart from the images, a waste of money or, in my case, of space.

Now the praise: The Metropolitan Museum of Art has a fantastic on-line feature called 82nd and Fifth (its address for strangers to Manhattan). It started on February 13; a Valentine to all of us. For one year, 100 curators are each presenting a work from the Met's collection that "changed the way they see the world." Subscribing is free. Every Wednesday an e mail arrives. Click on, and two, two minute videos are offered. These vary with the personality and presenting gifts of the curators, the work chosen and how the viewer reactions to it.I take back the last bit. In "Compassion," Carrie Rebora Barratt makes me pay attention and even admire John Trumbull's 1789 battle scene (below), a work I never stopped to look in my many visits to the Met. I will next time!.

One thing for sure: It has changed this writer's way of seeing curators. Often these videos have an intimate feel. The visual subject is the object; the curator does the voice over. It is has if he or she is talking to a good friend; a family members.Almost every curator seems smitten. These stories seem personal--you know in contrast to professional. There is no jargon; no hot hair. Passion and appreciation, honed by knowledge but not buried by it.  And speaking of hair:


The image at the top of this post comes from a recent video, "Curls". It was chosen by Wolfram Koeppe who tells us that it is an early eighteenth century bust of Alexander Danilovich  Menshikov  but who made it? So far this remains a mystery. Koeppe is working on it. "Gorgeous," is the title of the video presented by Diane Topkis. It's subject is  the dragonfly hairpiece above. It was made in the early twentieth century by Louis Comfort Tiffany. You Tube has plenty of these posts, too. Probably so do a zillion other places.
   The series ends on December 25. A request to Santa in the guise of Tom Campbell the museum's director: Another year please.

Martyr or Murderess?

They call her an enigmatic figure. It is an economical way of saying that not enough evidence survives to know if  Mary Stewart, Queen of Scotland, was a Catholic martyr or a cunning murderer. Her fame, or infamy, is the result of  Elizabeth the I , Protestant Queen of England's decision to have  Mary beheaded on February 8, 1587. This image is a detail from a cast of her effigy in Westminster Abbey.

Francois II and his Queen Consort Marie (Mary Stewart) at their wedding when both were teenagers.

   Mary, a tall, clever beauty, was born on 8 December 1852. She was the heir to King James V of Scotland. She was an infant when he died and she became Queen. The complicated story that followed which includes her marriage to Francois II, King of France-- her return to Scotland, her never ending claim to the English throne-- are the subject of an exhibition, "Mary Queen of Scots" at the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh until 17 November..If, like me, there are large holes in your knowledge of British history of the period, this is dandy way to fill them in.
    The show is  designed to create a sense of drama of which there is plenty in this story and a feeling for the richness of court life. Not a lot survives because the events recorded happened more than 400 years ago --but also because there was plenty of reason for those involved to destroy

The Darnley Jewel

 
 evidence of the events that took place--and their connections with the Queen of Scotland --whether they were supporters or members of the cast that wanted to do her in. (She had a strong claim to succeeded Elizabeth I as Queen of England.) Still enough has survived for this to be a touching as well as dazzling display of furniture and books, maps and letters, embroiders. The hokey modern recreations of court dress are ghastly although some are bound to disagree. Mary was known to have had a magnificent collection of jewels. (On her death, Elizabeth I took her  fabulous pearls.) One of the most fabulous objects in the show is the Darnley Jewel, above. It is a locket that opens to reveal even more wonderful enamelling and a white skull and cross bones at its center. The jewel which belonged to mother of Henry, Lord Darnely. It was given to the Queen of Scotland after she married Henry. She gave birth to a boy. James grew up to become.  King James VI of Scotland and then King James I of England and Ireland. 

. Elizabeth I saw off his mother but she failed to prevent a Stewart from ruling her country as well as his.  

Mexico? Yes and no.

"Mexico:  A revolution in Art :  1910-1940 at the Royal Academy in London is not the survey its title suggests.  It is more like a visual version of the children's game, Pin the Tail the Donkey. There is a little of this and a little of that; a random, scatter shot selection.Too often an artist is represented by a single work. Paintings by Mexicans and mixed together with those of foreigners. The big names are here but usually not their best works: Frida Kahlo,  currently the most famous Mexican artist among foreigners, is represented by a single oval miniature.  It is a fine, expressive work but it feels more like a box ticked (she could not be left out) than an example of her achievements. The same applies to works on view by Rivera, Siqeieros, Orozco and Tomayo. So the show does not add up to much but neither is it a waste of time. For example, two large watercolours by the English artist Edward Burra (1905-1976) are powerful and arresting . El Paseo, 1938 (below), from a private collection,makes you feel the heat, sensuality, presence of death which must have seemed intoxicatingly exotic, alluring and frightening --to a him as a foreigner. Burra's  Mexican Church (left) painted the same year will  surprise even  regular visitors to London museums. It belongs to the Tate but never seems to be on view. There is a faux- naive quality to these sophisticated paintings.  In the works of Mexican artists in this show, folklore seemed to be more deeply felt even if like Roberto Montenegro, they lived in Paris before returning home to work.Just have a look (below) at his Mayan Women of 1926:

My favorite painting is Jose Chavez Morado's 1939 Carnaval en Huejotzingo. (Below). Why? I am not really sure. I feel it is like a dream where everything is out of the ordinary yet the result is an harmonious image of great tranquillity. It makes me want to see more of Morado's work.

The Mexican and foreign photographers whose work is on view seem to have had more in common aesthetically than the painters. Maybe that's a way of saying that there is not the same impression of marked originality. Or maybe they saw more of each  others work and were able to steal from each other more comfortably. Anyway for me,  already familiar with the photographs of Tina Modotti, Edward Weston and Henri Cartier Bresson, the photographs of Manuel Alvarez Bravo have the greatest impact. At first sight I immediately wanted to own his 1931 Lords of the Dance (below).

The show continues until 29 September.

Pity about the food

 The view is terrific. At the top of the  National Portrait Gallery (NPG)  is its Portrait Restaurant looking out over Nelson's Column

on to Big Ben, Westminster Abbey and a lacy minaret of a dome that has something to do with Thomas Cook.. The subjects, whether Tudor or alive today (as for instance Germaine Greer) can make me think--either about how their subjects, time or talent of the painter. Not long into the meal last night at its restaurant I had one thought: I am not ever coming back.  ...

   I admit I have never had a meal in a London restaurant with a view--museum or otherwise--where the food was outstanding. But this was the worst. The lemon sole with crab finished me off..I sent it back. And that was after being assured that all the fish is delivered fresh each morning. (My companion, who also happens to be my husband and has never in our many years together EVER made a negative comment about food or service while in a restaurant, murmured that his fish wasn't good either.They staff couldn't know it but for him this was condemnation.)  Plenty else was not great. Portions were child sized (and we are not fans of my native land's huge ones). A side order of chips (French fries) had maybe seven fat ones. The asparagus starter was four skinny stalks in butter. When we asked for bread, a wood plank was brought to the table on which were two small rolls and a round of butter. And with a modest bottle of wine the bill was 90 pounds.
    The people who work in the restaurant are pleasant and kind. I was offered a different main course when the fish was taken away. I declined. So instead we each were given summer pudding desserts. Yup, this the lovely English dessert this time of year was minuscule--and dry. The three fresh berries that were the garnish were tasty. And that's it for a favorable review..

  A drink at the bar or maybe afternoon tea might be an okay way of enjoying the view without feeling depressed by the food. I think For views I'd prefer the bar at OXO tower or a coffee upstairs at Tate Modern..Anything more...Well I think I've made my point.