Punta della Dogana present a permanent exhibitions of works from the collection
of François Pinault.
日本建築大師安藤忠雄近年來在歐美屢有佳作，位於水都威尼斯的兩座新美術館， 特別引人矚目。威尼斯稅關美術館Punta Della Gogana及威尼斯皮諾現代美術館之葛拉喜館Palazzo Grassi正是安藤大師的新作，安藤忠雄在美麗的威尼斯歷史建築中，施展其清水混凝土在歐洲石造建築的植入（Installation）設計魅力，他保 留了歷史建築的原貌，只在內部空間加上清水混凝土的方塊，以獨立結構系統與老建築共存，令人驚豔！稅關美術館所在三角形半島尖端部分，被設立了一座嶄新藝 術雕像，那是一尊裸身男孩手上抓著一隻青蛙，似乎要將這隻青蛙丟到威尼斯城一般，成為威尼斯最新的地標物。
| tadao ando: punta della dogana museum in venice|
it's not every day that a major new gallery opens in venice. after 14 months of restoration,
It has been the defining style of our era, but now it’s in retreat. Stephen Bayley works out whether less will soon be no more...
From INTELLIGENT LIFE Magazine, Autumn 2010
Last June I shared a cab with Grayson Perry, one of Britain’s best-known artists. He had just returned from the Basel art fair, where he had been struck by something. “Everything is now happening all at once,” he told me with a roll of the eyes. There was no longer a ruling style or taste, no common agreement on what is avant-garde and what is retrograde. Today the happening thing is just what is happening. We have reached the end of “isms”.
Minimalism was the last, and most curious, ism of all. The late 20th and early 21st centuries were peculiarly receptive to its poetics of purity—in architecture, in art, in food, in design. This autumn it receives what might be either its coronation or its obituary. “Plain Space” is the title of both an exhibition at the Design Museum in London, and a book by its subject, John Pawson—the elegant Old Etonian architect who, more than anyone, turned a cerebral art-world cult into a deluxe style for the stratum of society where fastidious aestheticism meets high net worth.
The exhibition is not, Pawson insists, a retrospective, but an account of work-in-progress. Still, when estate agents are touting properties as “minimalist-style”, you suspect that the vitality of this ism may have left the building. Was minimalism the last absurd, exhausted spasm of neophilia, the cult of the new that so defined modern taste? Or is it still, and will it remain, the ultimate refinement of aesthetic sensibility: the place we go when we have been everywhere else? The answer to both questions is yes.
In one sense, minimalism had a beginning and end as (nearly) precise as the beginning and end of, say, baroque or pre-Raphaelitism. German architects first used the term “Existenzminimum”—referring to low-cost social housing—in the mid-1920s. The term “minimal art” first appeared circa 1965. Journalists writing about interior design began mentioning minimalism in the mid-1980s. But, unlike baroque or the pre-Raphaelites, the minimal aesthetic has been a continuous element in European culture. It’s been with us in some form since the fifth century BC, when Socrates declared that a well-made dung bucket was better than a poorly made gold shield.
In the 18th century architectural theorists such as Carlo Lodoli—creator of the sternly beautiful Pilgrim’s Hospice in Venice—began to play with the idea of “functionalism”: that buildings must not be compromised by decoration. This idea that architecture must be driven by its function would later dominate the Modern Movement of the early 20th century. Adolf Loos, Otto Wagner, H.P. Berlage, Bruno Taut, Mies van der Rohe and Le Corbusier all, in their different ways, stressed the importance of utility and their abhorrence of decoration. Loos entitled an essay “Ornament and Crime”. Le Corbusier studied aircraft and cars, before stating in 1923 that a house should be a simple “machine for living in”. Even Wittgenstein was at it. In 1928 he built a house on Vienna’s Parkgasse, designing every detail with a severe functionalist authority. Created for the gods, it is now the Bulgarian Cultural Institute.
Minimalism’s origins at the very beginning of organised European thought lend it lasting intellectual respectability. Yet its later 20th-century exponents—the sculptors Donald Judd, Dan Flavin and Carl Andre, the architects Tadao Ando, Peter Zumthor and Pawson himself—disliked being described as minimalists. This denial is one of minimalism’s many paradoxes; another is that minimalism is not, as its name implies, simple, restricted and ascetic. Rather it is wide-ranging, engaging and nuanced: look at the absurd extremism and occult spirituality of the Bruder Klaus chapel in Switzerland, where Zumthor built a wooden structure, surrounded it with concrete, and then set fire to the core. The result is thrilling and beautiful. Similarly, nothing is quite so striking as the fearless spareness of a minimalist interior, with its repertoire of shadow gaps and perfect flush surfaces.
Nor, when it comes to buildings, is minimalism cheap. It costs a fortune to make things look simple. Flock wallpaper, scatter cushions, swags, sconces and escutcheons are convenient ways to disguise nasty constructional flaws or shoddy materials. Minimalism offers no such refuge. Your waxed white plaster walls and black macassar ebony floors are expensive to create (usually aligned by laser) and to maintain. If there is dirt in a minimalist house, it is tragically obvious. If living with less is the ultimate pose of the very rich, it can also be difficult to use.
A strict-observance minimalist interior has appliances—if it has appliances at all—by Dieter Rams, whose pursuit of stripped-back excellence reached its apogee in domestic machines that were simply white, or black, boxes. The food-mixer Rams designed for Braun in 1957 was a near-perfect exercise in Platonic form: sculptural, disciplined, fuss-free. But when you take the perfect Platonic form into the kitchen, you get cake-mix and shredded carrot all over it. (In 1980 I interviewed Rams for a television programme. Sitting in his office near Frankfurt, he told me that design must be like “ze goot English butler”—ever-present, but inconspicuous. To show how his signature grey or white interiors allowed the vivid colours of nature to sing out, he eyeballed the camera and gestured dramatically at a bowl of tulips behind him. They were white.)
Contrarily—again—pure minimalism makes few concessions to function. One London restaurant with a splendidly minimalist men’s room discovered, by unfortunate trial and error, that customers found it difficult to “read” what was what and, in an urgent retro-fit, it had to label its thrillingly discreet features with helpful instructions: “WC”, “tap”, “basin”. It is said that the late Joseph Ettedgui—who sold rails of minimal little black dresses at his Joseph shops—wrapped in white paper every book in his library. They looked beautiful, but were impossible to identify. Convenience and logic are not chapter headings in “The Minimalist Handbook”.
John Pawson readily accepts minimalism’s inherent contradictions. Sometimes I suspect he even cultivates them. I fondly recall the moment when, in order to install some long planks of Douglas fir in his own living room, he had—not at all frugally—to take the roof off his house, hire a crane, and shut down the street for several days. But then no one else has been so inspired a channeller of minimalism’s spirit.
We first met in 1981 at Terence Conran’s design studios. I worked there; he was a young man in the lobby who showed me his drawings while waiting to meet Conran. I immediately liked what I saw. In John Pawson is all the componentry of minimalism. Le style est l’homme: he tends to wear the same outfit of black suede Gucci loafers, chinos, white shirt and off-white cable-knit cashmere sweater. Some critics—and Pawson has several—find this affected, but he simply says that a uniform cuts out the fuss. “Some people are dreaming about what they have not got,” he once told me. “I am trying to forget what I have already had.”
Pawson’s inspirations are as layered as minimalism itself. In his 20s, escaping his family’s Yorkshire textile business and a failed relationship, he went to live in Japan. He apprenticed himself to an austere Japanese designer, Shiro Kuramata, who taught him both the tricks of the cabinet-maker’s trade, such as shadow-gaps, and the philosophy of wabi-sabi, the untranslatable concept that evokes the mysterious essence of things. Back in Britain by 1979, aged 30, Pawson enrolled in architecture school, and became close to both the writer Bruce Chatwin and the contemporary-art dealer Hester van Royen. In 1983 van Royen helped Pawson land a commission to create a new space for Waddington Galleries—so adding direct contact with the minimalist art of Judd, Flavin and Andre to the twin influences of Chatwin’s romantic primitivism and Kuramata’s aesthetic discipline.
For years Pawson worked hard to establish himself, sometimes falling out with clients when they failed to share his own high standards, but still creating a sequence of potently beautiful restaurants, galleries and private houses. These included the Neuendorf House in Majorca, which Pawson calls an “empty cube within a cube”, and the white-walled London flat he converted for van Royen, through which a black floor flows like water.
In 1995 Pawson designed the magnificent Calvin Klein store in New York, all limestone and glass. In 1996 he built a branch of Jigsaw on New Bond Street in London that was a pop song of praise to Cistercian monasteries. In 2005 came the Baron House, a private holiday home in southern Sweden, simple but powerful. In 2006 he built the Sackler Crossing, bridging a central lake at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Kew with a sinuous ribbon of bronze, steel and granite that contrasts with nature while also being at one with it. Perhaps the most visited of his buildings are Cathay Pacific’s first- and business-class lounges at Chek Lap Kok airport in Hong Kong, opened in 1998. But the most important is his monastery at Novy Dvur in the Czech Republic—a superlative realisation of Cistercian design principles, commissioned by a group of Trappist monks in 2004 after they saw pictures of the Calvin Klein store in a book of Pawson’s work. It’s no coincidence that Pawson is the only architect ever to have built both a monastery and an airport: these are places, and designs, that define our moment and its ambivalent possibilities.
Philip Johnson, the architect who was New York’s most influential tastemaker in the second half of the 20th century, used to say that the great thing about minimalism is that it was easy to copy. It has certainly been much imitated. A minimalist kitchen—the kind where a solitary pepper sits on an unbroken limestone worksurface—is today’s default interiors option, available for £150,000 from a German manufacturer, or £1,500 from a DIY store. Cynical hoteliers and me-too loft-developers sell mere emptiness and no-budget-for-furniture as entry-level minimalism. The most important product of recent years, the iPod, is a perfect little essay in minimalist design—everything is hidden, subordinated to a ruthless formal perfectionism. The Apple Store, with 295 branches at the last count, has taken the limestone-and-glass look around the world.
So there is some truth in the view that minimalism turned what was once flagged as art’s final solution into merely a slick style. But it doesn’t matter if one day Elle Decor and Wallpaper* forget about it, as they will. John Pawson will not be deterred. He designs not for fashion, but from compulsion. It may be an absurd vanity to strive, as the Cistercians did, for timeless perfection, but as vanities go, it is an admirable one. Pawson is incapable of clumsiness. His minimalism proves that simple is not the same as commonplace.
Indeed, “simplicity is the final achievement”, as Frédéric Chopin wrote. “After one has played a vast quantity of notes…it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.” Minimalism takes Occam’s Razor to mess. It is a grandiose aesthetic of tidying up the world’s visual noise and material clutter. I was saying this to Pawson one day, stroking the secret cupboard doors in his London flat with an appreciative hand, when a touch-latch sprang open and out poured a torrent of cushions, toys, CDs and old magazines. Great art and great artifice are only two syllables apart.
John Pawson: Plain Space Design Museum, London SE1, September 22nd to January 30th
(Stephen Bayley is a cultural commentator. His "A-Z of Design", co-written with Terence Conran, is published by Conran Octopus.)Picture Credit: Ian Dobbie/John Pawson, Jonathan Player
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2010/9/26 1600 公視 透視 Philip Glass
先是 "美國對藝術家不有善 所以他41歲才以音樂謀生
Glass attended the Juilliard School of Music (M.A., 1962) and studied (1964-66) with Nadia Boulanger in Paris. 碩士之後到巴黎必須重頭學起 後來學會技巧 改便一生
Philip Glass was the leading composer/performer of the musical movement called minimalism, which emphasized musical process rather than complex musical structures. He simplified the traditional organizing factors of Western music - such as harmony, melody, modulation, and rhythm - and concentrated on creating complex layers of sound through a minimum of musical manipulation. His pieces utilized repetitive cycles of rhythm, similar to Hindu ragas, which change slowly over long periods of time and are said to produce a trance-like state in some listeners.
不顧 manage 不求 efficiency 但求 productive (work place) 等等
The Sound of a Voice
"聲之音" 如何 (仿山之音)
Reich 譯成瑞希 大概只看文字翻譯 瑞克
前一次節目指揮還問 Glass 先生a 的發音為阿或.....
Read, Sir Herbert, 1893-1968, English poet and critic. His studies at the Univ. of Leeds were interrupted by World War I, in which he served with a Yorkshire regiment. After the war he completed his education. His first volume of poems, Naked Warriors (1919), treats the horrors of war. An advocate of free verse, he published poetry all his life; his last volume of Collected Poems was published in 1966. Read was an important critic of both art and literature, and he influenced the treatment of these subjects in British education.
As an art critic he defined and advocated various modern art movements and aided the careers of many British artists, notably Henry Moore. His works of art criticism include The Innocent Eye (1933), Art and Industry (1934), Art and Society (1936), Education Through Art (1943), Art Now (1948), The Grass Roots of Art (1961), and Art and Alienation: The Role of the Artist in Society (1967).
As a literary critic, Read reasserted the importance of the 19th-century English Romantic authors, most notably in The True Voice of Feeling: Studies in English Romantic Poetry (1953).
His other works of literary criticism include Form in Modern Poetry (1932), Coleridge as Critic (1949), and Phases of English Poetry (1950). Read also wrote many essays, some of which are collected in The Cult of Sincerity (1969).
See his autobiographical The Contrary Experience (1974); studies by W. T. Harder (1972) and G. Woodcock (1972).
Select List of Works by Herbert Read
- Arp (The World of Art Library) (1968)
- Art and Alienation (1967)
- My Anarchism (1966)
- Unit One (1966), editor
- To Hell With Culture (1963)
- Eric Gill (1963)
- Introduction to Hubris: A Study of Pride by Pierre Stephen Robert Payne (1960)
- The Tenth Muse (1957)
- Icon and Idea: The Function of Art in the development of Human Consciousness (1955) 形象與觀念 杜若洲 自費譯印 台北 1976
- Education Through Art (1954)
- Revolution & Reason (1953)
- The Art of Sculpture (1951)
- Education for Peace (1950)
- Existentialism, Marxism and Anarchism (1949)
- Art and Society (1945)
- Education Through Art (1943)
- The Paradox of Anarchism (1941)
- Philosophy of Anarchism (1940)
- Anarchy & Order; Poetry & Anarchism (1938)
- Collected Essays in Literary Criticism (1938)
- The Grass Roots of Art (1937)
- The Green Child (1935)
- Art and Industry (1934)
- Art Now (1933)
- Wordsworth (1932)
- English Prose Style (1931)
- Naked Warriors (1919)
「100％設計」是倫敦設計節（London Design Festival）中最受矚目的創新設計國際展場。參展評審挑選過程嚴謹，平均淘汰率為五○％。台灣今年首次以「美好台灣」（Bravo Taiwan ）為主題報名展覽，結合台灣民間、業者和政府的力量，把台灣的軟實力，推向國際。
Here's 30 of the best.... from KJ Wu
1. Erotic Shopping
2. ASPE Crime Stories Bag
3. Ann Summers - Kinky Whip
4. Shumensko Beer Crate
5. Volkswagen Golf GTI Bag
6. MERALCO: UNPLUG TO SAVE
7.. Greenpeace - Give Me Your Hand
8. Children with Autism
9. Stop'n grow: Nail biter
12. Red Cross - Volunteers Needed
13. Gaia: Animals Torture
14. Sawney Bean - Cannibal of Scotland
16. Muse Bags
17. Yulia Tymoshenko
18. YKM Shopping Bag: Jump Rope
20. Clothes in Closets: Knuckle Bag
21. Blush Lingerie: X-Ray Bag
22. Floating Magic-I Bag
23. Wheaties Shopping Bag
26. Headhunting Agency Shopping Bag
27. Karl Lagerfeld Shopping Bag
28. Olympic Shopping Bag
29. Tom of Finland Shopping Bag
30. Samsung TV Bag