2013年12月23日 星期一

And to Think I Saw It @ MoMA!

And to Think I Saw It @ MoMA!


The DetailsDecember 20, 2013
Bellflower lamp by Wieki Somers (2007).
Bellflower lamp by Wieki Somers (2007).
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
Posted above the doorway of an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art is a question raised in 1911 by the painter Wassily Kandinsky: “Must we not then renounce the object altogether, throw it to the winds and instead lay bare the purely abstract?”
The quote introduces “Inventing Abstraction: 1910-1925,” about the birth of nonrepresentational art. But it could easily migrate downstairs three floors to “Applied Design,” a show of works from MoMA’s design collection that opened on Saturday and will be on view through January 2014.
Organized by Paola Antonelli, senior curator of architecture and design at the museum, with Kate Carmody, a curatorial assistant, and Paul Galloway, supervisor of the museum’s Study Center, “Applied Design” is a bold bracketing of furnishings, tools, graphics and games that challenge what we imagine design to be. Unlike the streamlined chairs, automobiles and utensils that are staples of MoMA’s collection, most of the roughly 100 items displayed here will never be found on eBay. But you can see them in video arcades and biotechnology labs and even on the keypads of communications devices.
Ms. Antonelli has roamed this unconventional turf in previous MoMA shows. “Design and the Elastic Mind” (2008), for instance, explored the productive partnership between design and science in works like BioWall, a lacy fiberglass partition by the London design studio Loop.pH, which was formed from mathematically derived shapes and woven with living plants. “Talk to Me” (2011) opened a window onto the increasingly complicated relationship between people and machines; its many engrossing examples included the Artificial Biological Clock designed by Revital Cohen, a prototype for a device that collates online data from a woman’s doctor, therapist and bank manager to determine the right time for her to have a child.
Artificial Biological Clock by Revital Cohen (2008). The object collates a variety of data to determine a woman’s optimal time to bear a child. 
Artificial Biological Clock by Revital Cohen (2008). The object collates a variety of data to determine a woman’s optimal time to bear a child. 
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
Both of these works can be found in “Applied Design,” where they are cleanly displayed and easier to study than in the rich thickets of their prior installations. They are joined not just by companions from those earlier shows but also by other recent additions to the permanent collection.
In an audacious stroke, Ms. Antonelli acquired 14 video games for the museum last fall, including Pac-Man, Tetris, Myst and Canabalt. They’re installed in housings of utter sobriety along three walls of this exhibition. Visitors are invited to play several of the games and watch samples of the elaborate digital worlds constructed over time in others.
And posted at the rear of the gallery is the “@” symbol, which Ms. Antonelli brought to MoMA with much fanfare two years ago. The mark dates at least from the Middle Ages and was long used by merchants notating orders of commercial goods sold at a particular price. What MoMA “owns” is a typographical version of the symbol adopted by Ray Tomlinson in 1971 while he was designing the first e-mail system developed by the United States government.
Ms. Antonelli is less interested in the form of the mark than its role in creating global networks. Like video games, the @ symbol is our passport to enter the digital realm, at the border between flesh and technology. Ms. Antonelli sees design potential in “the space between human and digital,” she noted last week. This is the frontier of science fiction where bodies are augmented by empowering prosthetics — the scenarios of “The Six Million Dollar Man” and the 1999 David Cronenberg film “eXistenZ.” Except Ms. Antonelli believes that such clumsy enhancements will ultimately evolve into a seamless interface between human and digital, with the mind as controller.
If only the label “Applied Design” communicated the excitement of that vision. Usually, Ms. Antonelli dreams up inspired titles for her shows, but the name “Applied Design” is mysteriously drab and even redundant: design by almost any definition serves some practical end. What does “applied” mean for work that was always presumably intended for use?
Ms. Antonelli said she was thinking about a future when the design field will be subdivided, like physics, into theoretical and applied branches. (That future is within sight, one should add; even now, designers once known for creating cold, hard objects are rebranding themselves as “innovation strategists” who produce ideas rather than things.) At the same time, she said, she was riffing on an old term for design: “applied art.”
Fundamentally, however, the title refers to the many arenas in which designers are active. Ms. Antonelli hasn’t abandoned the object, but she is keen to show it as an outgrowth of open-ended technologies like 3-D printing and conceptual models like biomimicry, where design is patterned on nature.
On view, for example, is the Lily Impeller, a flowing hunk of stainless steel that Jayden D. Harman, an inventor and entrepreneur, modeled on the Fibonacci spiral. The shape, which curls like a nautilus shell, allows the device to circulate millions of gallons of water efficiently in municipal water systems.
Lily Impeller by Jayden D. Harman (1996). 
Lily Impeller by Jayden D. Harman (1996). 
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
It’s a gorgeous object. “I want to remind people of the importance of elegance: the fact that beauty should not be costlier or harder to find than nonbeauty,” Ms. Antonelli said of the many visually compelling displays in the show, including lacy textiles from the Dutch studio Freedom of Creation made by rapid-prototyping technology and a floor lamp by the British designer Paul Cocksedge that is effectively a big fiber-optic strand. People who stop to admire such objects will be poised to think about “a world of very serious manufacturing and materials considerations,” she said. “They seduce you with their form, then transport you into the future of design.”
And what if those seductions lead not to the future but to a dead end of artistic self-indulgence? The kind of object that looks better on paper (or in a museum setting) than in practice?
That’s the charge against one of the star exhibits, Mine Kafon, an instrument designed to float across fields and detonate buried land mines. Created by Massoud Hassani, an Afghan, as a student project at Design Academy Eindhoven in the Netherlands, Mine Kafon would seem above reproach: it’s made inexpensively of recycled materials; it’s powered by a renewable energy source, the wind; it promises to save lives; it can be easily repaired when damaged; and with its resemblance to a fluffy dandelion, it’s a visual poem. Sitting in the corner of an exhibition space, it commands serious attention, even without the accompanying video that shows it in action.
But Marc Vlemmings, a journalist in the Netherlands, is a critic of the invention. Debating its merits in the Dutch design magazine Items, he argued that Mine Kafon is a prototype that hasn’t been tested and refined sufficiently to earn its plaudits (not least of which is a place in MoMA’s permanent collection). He was rankled by the premise of a minesweeper following an erratic, wind-driven path rather than a systematic program for clearing the weapons. “The Mine Kafon provides inhabitants of a mine-infested area with a false sense of security,” he said.
When told of the objection, Ms. Antonelli countered: “Sometimes there are hero objects that sensitize the world. I never thought that it was tested and ready to be deployed, but I thought that the concept was so strong, so convincing and so powerful, even because of the connection to the designer’s personal history, that it was enough for us.”
Still, the idea of heroic yet possibly ineffective design would have disturbed some of Ms. Antonelli’s predecessors at MoMA. Much modern design is based on the principle that objects that perform wonderfully (whether paper clips or BMWs) can’t help looking wonderful, whereas objects that fail to work bear the aesthetic mark of their ineptitude.
Mathieu Lehanneur, Andrea Air Purifier (2009).
Mathieu Lehanneur, Andrea Air Purifier (2009).
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
History has proved this maxim wrong many times, but never so persuasively as in the age of the computer chip, when the relationship between appearance and performance has become increasingly irrelevant. Now, tiny microprocessors govern the effectiveness of many designs. Form and function have undergone a rancorous divorce and frequently occupy separate quarters of the same objects.
But no matter what activity churns in the silicon brain of a design, a museum exhibition is still compelled to make it appealing. If there are heroics in this show, they lie in Ms. Antonelli’s willingness to pursue design down slippery corridors into challenging places like molecular biology and five-dimensional space. Her interest in design as a response to new technologies and social conditions — a promoter of experience rather than an object to be passively considered, even in the formal precincts of a museum — is in step with the way design is being executed in the world.
Ultimately, she may expand the definition of design so far that it explodes, but will that matter? She’s calling a messy, restless, enthralling discipline exactly as she sees it. Maybe it’s time to think of another name for design — or several.


Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
在紐約現代藝術博物館(the Museum of Modern Art, MoMA)一間展廳的大門正上方,貼着畫家瓦西里•康定斯基(Wassily Kandinsky)在1911年時提出的一個問題:「難道我們必須同所有現實之物絕裂,將其徹底拋棄,轉而去揭示純粹的抽象意象嗎?」
「應用設計」的策展人,包括博物館內建築與設計館的資深館長葆拉· 安東內利(Paola Antonelli)、館長助理凱特·卡莫迪(Kate Carmody)和博物館研究中心主管保羅·加洛韋(Paul Galloway)策劃。展覽中包括了一系列大膽的設計:傢具、工具、圖畫和挑戰我們想像力的遊戲。與流線型的椅子、汽車和器皿這些MoMA藏品中的主流 設計不同的是,「應用設計」展出的這大約100件藏品,大部分都是在易趣網(eBay)上買不到的。不過,你可以在投幣式錄像遊戲廳、生物技術實驗室甚至 通訊裝置的小鍵盤上看到它們。
安東內利仔細梳理了一番博物館此前在這片非傳統領域舉辦的展覽。例 如2008年的「設計與彈性思維展」,探索了設計與科學之間富有成效的夥伴關係,其中有像由倫敦設計工作室Loop.pH設計的生態牆(BioWall) 這樣的作品。這面帶花邊的玻璃纖維隔斷上纏繞着植物,其形狀還是通過數學推導計算出來的。而2001年舉辦的「對我說」則開啟了一扇窗,讓我們得以一窺人 類與機器之間日益複雜的關係,其中引人入勝的藏品包括萊維塔·科恩(Revital Cohen)設計的人造生物鐘。這款裝置雛形通過整理某位女士的醫生、治療師及其銀行經理提供的在線數據,就能分析出她的最佳孕期。
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
去年秋天,安東內利突發奇想,為博物館購置了14款電子遊戲,包括 吃豆人(pac-man)、俄羅斯方塊(tetris)、神秘島(myst)和屋頂狂奔(Canabalt)。這些遊戲在每個傳統展廳里都佔據了三面牆的 位置。參觀者會被邀請來試玩其中一些遊戲,並觀看另一些遊戲里逐漸展現出來的精巧的數字世界。
展廳的後方貼着一個「@」的標誌,兩年前,安東內利在熱熱鬧鬧的歡 迎儀式中把它迎了回來。這個標誌的歷史至少可以追溯到中世紀,那時的商人們用此標誌記錄某些特定售價商品的訂單。現代藝術博物館「擁有」的這件印刷品,是 1971年美國政府開發第一個電子郵件系統時,雷·湯姆林森(Ray Tomlinson)為他們設計的。
比起該標誌的外形,安東內利對其在創建全球網絡的過程中所扮演的角 色更感興趣。跟電子遊戲一樣,@標誌是我們進入數字王國的通行證,是現實社會與數字王國間的邊境線。上周,安東內利說她看到了「人類和數字之間」存在的設 計潛能。這裡是科幻小說的前沿陣地,人體可以通過修復術不斷被強化,就像《無敵金剛》(The Six Million Dollar Man)和大衛·柯南伯格(David Cronenberg)1999年執導的電影《感官遊戲》(eXistenZ)中表現的那樣。不過安東內利相信,那種笨拙的強化方式最終還是會逐漸演變成 由思想控制的自由轉換。
要是「應用設計」這個意象也能像她的上述構想一樣激動人心就好了。 通常,安東內利都會藉助靈感,為自己的展覽取個引人入勝的名字,可「應用設計」這個詞實在單調,甚至還有些多餘:無論在哪種定義下,「設計」幾乎總是有一 定實用性的。那麼,將這些本來就是要被人使用的東西為「應用」,有什麼意思呢?
安東內利說,她在思索的是,未來,設計領域將會進一步劃分,就像物 理學產生出了理論分支和應用分支一樣(應該補充一句,這樣的未來指日可待;即便是現在,那些曾經以冰冷堅硬的作品而聞名的設計師們如今也在重塑自己的形 象,向著創造理念而非實物的「創新型設計師」去轉型了)。同時她還說,她所再現的不過是一個設計界的老詞:「實用美術」(applied art)。
比如說,展覽上一件叫「莉莉葉輪」(Lily Impeller)的作品。這是一塊平滑無瑕的鋼製品,是發明家兼創業家傑登·D·哈曼(Jayden D. Harman)模仿斐波納契數列做出來的。在城市供水系統中,其酷似鸚鵡螺殼的外形可以讓該裝置有效地循環數百萬加侖的水。
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
這是件非常迷人的作品。「我想提醒大家,優雅的外形也是很重要的: 事實上,美的東西不應該比丑的東西更昂貴,或更難尋。」 關於展覽上許多外觀極具吸引力的展品,安東內利說出了這番話。這樣的展品包括荷蘭Freedom of Creation工作室用快速成型技術(rapid-prototyping technology)做出的蕾絲花邊紡織品,以及英國設計師保羅·考克斯基(Paul Cocksedge)設計的落地燈。其實,這盞燈就是一大束光學纖維。駐足欣賞這些展品的人,其思緒都將沉浸在「一個充滿對製造與材料的嚴肅思考的世 界,」她說,「它們會先用外形吸引你,然後再將你帶入設計的未來世界。」
Mine Kafon就是這樣一件備受爭議的裝置。它由阿富汗人馬蘇德·哈桑尼(Massoud Hassani)設計,可以滾過某片地區,引爆其間所埋的地雷。這件完成於荷蘭艾恩德霍芬設計學院(Design Academy Eindhoven)的學生習作看起來似乎十全十美:它由便宜的可再生材料製成;利用的是可再生能源——風能;它可以拯救生命;一旦損壞,也很容易修理; 而且,它酷似毛絨絨的蒲公英,美好得如同一首視覺詩篇。即便沒有同步錄像,靜置於展廳一角的它還是吸引了強烈關注。
不過,荷蘭記者馬克·弗萊明(Marc Vlemmings)是這個新發明的批評者。他在荷蘭設計雜誌《物件》(Items)上,就其優點展開了爭辯,說Mine Kafon是件沒有經過測試和足夠改進的樣品,當不起如此盛讚(尤其不應躋身MoMA的永久收藏品)。一想到這台掃雷裝置利用的是一種不穩定的風力驅動, 而不是一套系統的武器清除程序,他就難受得要死。「Mine Kafon帶給雷區內的居民一種安全錯覺。」他說。
Courtesy of the Museum of Modern Art, New York
但是,無論一件設計的「硅腦」如何運轉,博物館裡的一場展覽還是不 由得要讓它看起來引人入勝。要說這場展覽有什麼大無畏的元素,那就是安東內利在具有挑戰性的領域內追尋設計靈感的意願,比如分子生物學和五維空間等領域。 她在設計上的興趣所在,是其對新科技和社會狀況的一種回應,它與設計在現實世界中如何被實踐,總是步調一致的。即便在博物館這樣一個刻板保守的區域里,她 也希望設計能夠成為一個激發人們獲得體驗的契機,而非一件被動的展品而已。

2013年12月14日 星期六


1. 鐻  部首 金 部首外筆畫 13 總筆畫 21
注音一式 ㄐㄩˋ
漢語拼音 j 注音二式 ji





2013年12月13日 10:40:56 來源: 新華國際
    他提出,掌握制造大型雕像的工匠可能還沒有把技能傳給下一代就死了,也可能是當時的人認為復制外國模型是不合適的。 (參考消息)



【注音】:zhōng jù
  【释义】:即钟虡。钟,通“ 钟 ”。
  【出处】:《史记·秦始皇本纪》:“收天下兵,聚之咸阳 ,销以为钟鐻。” 裴駰集解引徐广曰:“﹝鐻﹞音巨。” 陶凯 《长平戈头歌》:“何不以尔为钟鐻?何不以尔为鼎彝?”参见“ 钟虡 ”。
  【出土】:1978年湖北 随县 战国早期曾侯乙墓出土的钟鐻铜人, 共6件,每件人体部分高近1米,皆作武士装束,戴冠,衣裳施加彩绘,处于钟架转角部位的铜人一臂很长,以便平稳承托上下相错的两根横梁(笋)。虽仅是用作 支撑65件巨大的铜编钟的人形支柱(鐻),但如此富于理性色彩的写实人物形象实为前此所仅见。曾侯乙墓钟鐻铜人的发现也为历史上聚讼不已的秦始皇所铸十二 钟鐻铜人的发现,也为历史上聚讼不已的秦始皇所铸十二钟鐻铜人提供了直接参照。


  d、 陈直《三辅黄图校注》三辅黄图卷之一:“收天下兵,聚之咸阳,销以为钟鐻,高三丈,钟小者皆千石也。”
  f、 《长安志》引《三辅旧事》云:“秦作铜人,立在阿房殿前,汉徒著长乐宫大夏殿前。”
   关于铜人的重量史料中有这么几个数字。①“重各千石”;②“钟小者皆千石也”;③各重三十四万 斤;④各重二十四万斤。为什么会有四种数字呢,我们说这些数字均属估计数字(而实际上只有三个数字)。非确切数字。推想,这么大的铜人也是无法一一去称 的,重量只能是个估计。千石之说只是泛指。十二枚铜人不是一样大,也不是一样重。小者千石,大者应该大于千石。确切说来,应该有十二个数字才对。石是秦时 的重量单位,一石为一百二十斤。秦时的一斤等于现在的256.26克,按最小数字一千石计,合今30715.2千克。按二十四万斤计,合今61502.4 千克,按三十四万斤计,合今87128.4千克。这就是说最小的一枚铜人重也在30吨以上,大的则在87吨以上。
  ① 铜人的相貌应该是狄人相貌,服饰也是狄服。
  ② 铜人是坐姿。长五丈的人坐下来也差不多是三丈,与史料相吻合。王莽梦见五枚铜人起立,可以说明这一点。
  ③ 正背均有铭文。史料有两说:“其胸前铭”;“铭其后”。铭文是由李斯撰文,蒙恬书写。李斯是丞相,蒙恬是大将军。由此可见铭文档次之高。铸造如此大的铜人,铭是必不可少的。从史料中零星铭文的内容推断十二个铜人应该均有铭文。
  ④ 铜人应该是空心的。按照铜的比重计,最大的重量87128.4千克,它的体积为9.8m3;最小的重量30751.2千克,它的体积为3.5m3。这与身穿狄服,下有座子,高三丈的铜人造像比,数字小多了。可以见得铜人是空心的。
   “金人十二”,十二这个数字寓义着什么呢?十二这个数字很奇特。古时的人把大地分成十二支,称 为十二地支。十二地支统合起来就是大地。大地还有一种分法,先分成东南西北四个方向,每个方向再分出两个方向,这就是四面八方。四面八方也是十二。可见十 二这个数字是能够代表大地的,而且是一个统一的大地。大地不就是天下吗?秦始皇所建立的不就是一个天下统一的封建王朝吗?至此,我们不难理解十二这个数字 就寓意着“天下统一”。还有,一年四季,一季三月,一年十二个月,如此往复便是千秋万代。两者合一,十二这个数字解密后就是:天下统一,千秋万代。秦始皇 所希望的不就是这个意思吗?
两 千多年前冶炼技术还不发达的秦时,能铸造30到80余吨的铜器确属一件奇迹。它是怎 样铸造出来的呢?据知,北京大钟寺有一口明代永乐铜钟,座高5.9米,重约5万公斤,内外满铸佛经文字,声音洪亮,荣膺为“钟王”。研究认为它是采用地坑 造型法铸造的。秦十二铜人采用的应该就是这一方法。
  地坑法就是在地下挖个大坑,依坑作成范模,铸成后破坏范模,挖开地坑,将铸器拖出 来。铸器小容 易拖出来运走,铸器太大,拖出坑又成了问题。铸一个可以不计余力,批量浇铸就不能不考虑这个问题。聪明的设计者想出了办法:在地面上筑台,在台中心做范, 铸成后破坏筑台,铸器即可容易运走。铸下一个时,补好筑台,重做范模。秦十二铜人想必就是用这种方法铸成的。
  范的问题解决了,铜水溶 化的问题又如何解决呢?根据以往考古发现,在殷墟安阳小屯一带,曾在冶 炼遗址里发现有坩锅残片,经复原,可盛铜液12.7公斤。按此推算铸造铜人,需要三到五千套这样的设备方可完成。三到五千套设备,需要数万人操作。分散溶 铜容易,统一浇铸就难了,其配合协调问题是无法解决的。聪明的设计者仿照“将军盔”的原理在范模台上做了个大形固定钳锅,再让铜液溶化后能够自行流出,注 入地坑范模中。不断地对钳锅烧火加温使铜块溶化流出,再不断地投以铜块,这样以来就形成了泉注式的铜水,浇铸问题也就解决了。
   正史《三国志》《后汉书》与《资治通鉴》均记载董卓毁铜人铸成铜钱应该可信,“悉椎破铜人 ”与“悉取雒阳及长安铜人”之“悉”是“尽、全部”的意思,也就是说十二铜人都毁于董卓之手,而 《关中记》非正史,其可信性本身是需要打折扣的,其记叙的内容也有探讨的地方。而《魏略》倒是说到了有2个铜人,不过是现铸的,并不是很多人说的董卓毁了 十二铜人之十,留了2个被魏明帝带到了霸城。然而正史只说“铜人”而没有说“十二铜人”或“秦铜人”,这也留下了值得商榷的地方:董卓毁掉的铜人真的是秦 始皇所铸的“十二铜人”吗?
1,传说,秦国有一位将军,名叫阮翁仲, 据说此人身高一丈三尺,异于常人,秦始皇派他随蒙恬将军北征匈奴,后来战死疆场(因此后来人们将较大的石像也叫翁仲)。有一天秦始皇做了一个梦,梦到阮翁 仲将军让他收尽天下兵器以防叛乱。在统一六国后,秦始皇命令收天下兵器铸其铜人像,立于咸阳司马门外。所以我们说:秦始皇销兵器,铸铜人像的根本目的在于 防止叛乱,是维护其统治的政治举措。
  2,一天,秦始皇在群臣陪同下,观看舞水火流星和各种杂耍,正在兴高采烈之时,忽见一队杀气腾 腾、手执刀剑干戈的武士上场表演。秦始皇见了,元疑触动了心病,于是日思夜想,寝食难安。这时候,正逢临挑农民送来一条消息,说是见到了12个巨人,当地 还盛传着一首童谣说:“渠去一,显于金,百邪辟,百瑞生。”秦始皇听后,正中下怀,情绪为之一振。于是便假托征兆,借助天意,下令收缴民间所有的兵器,集 中于咸阳,铸成了12个铜人。
  3,有的学者指出,这12个铜人毁于董卓、苻坚之手。东汉未年,董卓率兵攻入长安,便将其中的 10个铜人销毁、铸成铜钱,剩下的两个被他迁到长安城清门里。至三国时,魏明帝曹睿下令把这两个铜人运往洛阳。当工匠运到溺城时,由于铜人太重难以搬动而 终止了运行。到了东晋十六国时,后赵的石季龙又把这两个铜人运到螂城。到了前秦的秦王苻坚统一北方后,再从螂城将这两个铜人运回长安销毁。至此,前后经历 了约600年的铜人全部都销毁了。

2013年12月11日 星期三

Hello, My Name is Paul Smith/保羅·史密斯異想天開的世界 Paul Smith’s World of Wit and Whimsy


Paul Smith’s World of Wit and Whimsy

December 07, 2013
The phrase “Every day is a new beginning,” scribbled on a giant Post-it note and with a smiley sun below, marks the spirit of Paul Smith.
The designer’s words appear on the side of a “compact” (read super-small) room that was the start of a global empire. As a quirky young British boy, he fell off his bicycle 50 years ago, gave up his dream of making cycling his career and started a tiny shop in his native Nottingham, England.
The designer’s wacky, whimsical spirit is perfectly captured in “Hello, My Name is Paul Smith,” an exhibition that runs through March 9 at the Design Museum by the River Thames in London. That casual, friendly welcome from a creative force in fashion sums up the essence of the show, which suggests that good design should be available to all and is not an exclusive luxury.
One of the life-size cardboard cut-out images of Paul Smith — a smartly suited figure with a mane of hair and an apparent energy that belies his 67 years — leans forward at the end of a long “runway,” where the walls are covered with colorful images that have inspired him or marked his career.
It is to the credit of the curator, Donna Loveday, that she has not attempted to streamline the exhibition, any more than the Paul Smith team would dream of reorganizing the manic clutter of objects on his office desk. That re-created surface filled with objects includes the first lumbering iMac computer in translucent green, given to him by his friend Jonathan Ive, now senior vice president of design at Apple. Jumbled around it are the Union Jack; a yellow teapot; banks of books; and a plate of fake spaghetti, balanced on a dress stand above a big black shirt with a digital print that replicates the pasta dish.
A Mini painted in signature a Paul Smith colors at the exhibit at the Design Museum in London.
A Mini painted in signature a Paul Smith colors at the exhibit at the Design Museum in London.
Andrew Testa for The New York Times
As Mr. Smith explains in a film shot during his most recent men’s wear show in Paris and projected at the museum, digital printing is a new way to express his exuberant enthusiasm for pattern and color.
The Paul Smith brand, in which the designer still holds a majority share of 60 percent, is represented in 72 countries and with 14 different collections.
“I wanted to tell the story by taking it back to the shop in Nottingham, trying to give real insight into how Paul works, to take people behind the scenes and to show Paul’s creative approach, where he gets his ideas and inspiration,” said Ms. Loveday, who emphasized Mr. Smith’s ability to maintain his character, personality and humor, which is so often lost when designers sell their businesses or expand into a corporate world.
The curator also highlights the many Paul Smith collaborations, which include a Mini car in the same stripes of vivid color found on the designer’s socks and ties. A dash of color on the lining inside a more-or-less sober suit was a way that the designer built British whimsy into his country’s formal tailoring.
The lively spirit is found in the lineup of clothes — colorful, patterned and for both sexes. That section rather underplays Mr. Smith’s role as a tailor, which is a mistake, because it is the foundation of his work. Ms. Loveday, whose title at the museum is Head of Curatorial, might also have insisted on focusing more firmly on the masculine side. The designer was, after all, the first to interpret the 1960’s “youthquake,” using the British history and tradition of formal wear in a fresh way. Women’s wear came much later and has not had the same resonance.
The show itself certainly appeals to today’s young generation, with a colorful crowd appreciating everything, including the wall of 70,000 buttons (another Smith signature). Alongside is a screen showing the inside of the new Paul Smith store on Albemarle Street in London, where a wall of dominoes captures once again the designer’s wit and whimsy. Mr. Smith says that he abhors “cookie-cutter” shops and has strived to make each one of his different.
“Ideas come from anywhere, you can take inspiration from anything,” Mr. Smith states on one of the wall plates. On another he pays homage to his wife, Pauline, a designer trained at London’s Royal College of Art, who, her husband says, “taught me the importance of quality, cut, proportion and an understanding of how clothes are made.”
Ms. Loveday says that the exhibition is deliberately targeted at young people, who can be convinced that “if you have a vision and a dream, if you have the will and determination to succeed — you can do it too.”
The curator also wanted to underscore how unique Mr. Smith is “as a fashion designer, involved in every aspect of the company,” with his “characteristic humor and wit” at home or overseas.
That determination is underscored by the Smith-designed bicycles that pepper the exhibition, as if announcing, “I lost my dream in a bike accident, but I built another one.”
The Design Museum, founded by the modern design guru Terence Conran, has a landmark 25th birthday next year, which will be followed by a physical move to new premises in West London. This fine Paul Smith exhibition gets to the fundamentals of design and how it can and should be not exclusive, but available to all.
Andrew Testa for The New York Times
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倫敦——巨大的便簽紙上潦草地寫着「每一天都是新的開始」,下面畫著一個微笑的太陽,這標誌着保羅·史密斯(Paul Smith)的精神。
這位設計師古怪、異想天開的精神在「你好,我是保羅·史密斯」 (Hello, My Name is Paul Smith)展覽中得到了完美體現。該展覽在倫敦泰晤士河畔的設計博物館(Design Museum)舉行,將持續到明年3月9日。這位時裝界創意大師隨意、友好的歡迎概括了展覽的精髓,表明優秀的設計應該供所有人享用,而不是僅供某些人享 用的奢侈品。
值得讚許的是,本次展覽的策展人唐娜·洛夫迪(Donna Loveday)沒有試圖精簡這個展覽,就像保羅·史密斯的團隊一直夢想卻從未能夠精簡他辦公桌上的那一大堆東西。展覽中仿製的桌面上放滿了各種東西,包 括第一台笨重的綠色透明的iMac電腦,這是他的朋友喬納森·伊夫(Jonathan Ive)送給他的,伊夫現在是蘋果公司的設計部高級副總裁。電腦四周胡亂放着很多東西:英國國旗;一個黃色的茶壺;賬簿;一盤假意大利麵,它被小心翼翼地 放在一個人體模型上面,人體模型穿着一件寬大的黑色襯衫,襯衫上的數碼印花就是模仿這盤意大利麵設計的。
Andrew Testa for The New York Times
這種充滿活力的精神能在那些展出的衣服上看出來——五顏六色,圖案 多樣,既有男裝,也有女裝。這部分對史密斯的裁縫角色有點輕描淡寫,這麼做是不對的,因為剪裁是他作品的基礎。洛夫迪在該博物館的頭銜是策展部主任。她可 能還堅持重點關注男裝。畢竟這位設計師是第一個闡釋20世紀60年代「青年動亂」的人,他用新穎的方法闡釋英國正式着裝的歷史和傳統。他是在很久之後才開 始設計女裝的,而且沒有引起同樣的反響。
這場展覽本身無疑對如今的年輕一代具有吸引力,行行色色的觀眾來欣 賞這裡的一切,包括那面掛有70000個鈕扣的牆(那些鈕扣是史密斯的另一個代表作)。旁邊的屏幕上展示的是倫敦阿爾伯馬爾街新開的一家保羅·史密斯店的 內部,店裡牆上的多米諾骨牌再次反映出這位設計師的智慧和奇思妙想。史密斯說他厭惡「千篇一律」的店鋪,所以總是努力讓他的每家店都不相同。
由現代設計宗師特倫斯·康倫(Terence Conran)創立的設計博物館明年將迎來25歲生日,之後它將搬到倫敦西部的新館。這場精緻的保羅·史密斯展覽道出了設計的基本要義,表明設計不應該僅供某些人獨享,而應該讓所有人看到,以及如何做到這一點。

Paul Smith
Fashion designer

  • Sir Paul Smith, CBE, RDI, is an English fashion designer, whose business and reputation is founded upon his menswear. He is both commercially successful and highly respected within the fashion industry. Wikipedia

  • Born: July 5, 1946 (age 67), Beeston, United Kingdom

    "Hello, my name is Paul Smith" at the Design Museum - Paul Smith ...

    Nov 14, 2013 - From the 15th November 2013 to 9th March 2014, London's Design Museum invites you into the world of fashion designer Paul Smith, a world ...

    Paul Smith倫敦展 複製私人辦公室

    【林 佳樺╱綜合報導】英國服裝設計師Paul Smith在時裝圈屹立40多年,最近倫敦Design Museum向他致敬,本月至明年3月舉行「Hello, My Name is Paul Smith」展覽,回顧Paul Smith在諾丁漢(Nottingham)創辦品牌至今日叱吒國際的歷程,最特別的是將品牌首家專門店與他的私人辦公室複製到展覽館內;加上展品由 Paul Smith親自挑選,還有他親自錄製導覽語音,品牌粉絲不容錯過。

    英國服裝設計師Paul Smith叱吒時尚圈40多年。香港《蘋果日報》
    倫敦展覽一窺Paul Smith的私人辦公室。香港《蘋果日報》

    Design for life: Paul Smith talks classics with a twist, Japanese fans, Britishness - and why he prides himself on still being childlike

    Passion is what life is all about for Paul Smith – for fashion, sure, but also for bikes and business, photography and play. Alexander Fury meets him on the eve of his second exhibition at the Design Museum in London

    The odd thing about speaking with the fashion designer Paul Smith is how little you speak about the fashion designer Paul Smith. He speaks about his passion for cycling – a passion he hoped would become a career until it ended with a crash, literally, in his teens.

    We speak about his company, of course – his influences, his inspirations, even a little about how his company's run (with Paul very much at the helm, and heavily involved in every aspect). And we speak about the latest exhibition of his work at London's Design Museum – Hello, My Name is Paul Smith. He's the first fashion designer to have two exhibitions there – the last was in 1995, although Smith is anxious to point out neither should be seen as a retrospective. His initial comment about this one? "Clothes feature... a bit more."
    In the fashion world, Smith's plain-talking stands out. It's not just the flattened vowels of his native Nottingham – if he decided to go off on a pretentious flight of fancy, they would make it sound down-to-earth. But pretension has never been Smith's thing. He founded his eponymous company in 1970, building it around resolutely realistic clothing. "Classic with a twist," is the way he invariably describes it, and has done so for 30 years.
    "That's a big contributing factor of why I've done well. My experience of working in a shop [he manned a friend's clothing shop, aged 18, before setting up in business by himself], and understanding that most people don't want a jacket with three arms or a spaceship coat! They're very happy to have... it's an overused expression but my expression of classic with a twist is hard to beat," Smith states emphatically, in one of the few instances I get him to talk seams and selvedges.
    The twist could be a colourful lining, an unusual pattern – such as the photo-realistic prints born from Smith's personal passion for photography (he photographed his latest autumn/winter advertising campaign) – or something as simple as replacing the colour in an ultra-traditional tweed. Smith offered a Prince of Wales check with > limoncello-yellow instead of the conventional burgundy or blue. "Basically, all very wearable," he says. Smith's approach across the decades has always been a gentle dig in the ribs at the everyman to brighten up his act.
    Smith in his first shop, which opened in Nottingham in 1970 Smith in his first shop, which opened in Nottingham in 1970
    Smith's classic with a twist has now become a classic in itself – so much so, that perhaps it's difficult to appreciate how arresting his quirkiness was when he first began. Arguably, that came from the fact that Smith wasn't formally design-trained; following a crash and a period in hospital that ended his burgeoning cycling career, aged 17, he fell in with a group of art students, naturally interested in a world that was alien to him. "My bad point or my weak spot is that I have too many ideas, I'm too curious. I'm not posh enough," he says.

    All of which were what ignited that initial interest in fashion, fostered by art-school chat in a pub in the late Sixties. Of course, Smith tells it like a comedy skit, cracking that he thought the Bauhaus was a housing estate. He credits his then-girlfriend and now wife Pauline, a Royal College of Art alumna, with teaching him the ins and outs of the fashion business. Touchingly, there is also an area of the Design Museum show dedicated to her. "It's very much down to her," he states. "And, as they say, the rest is history."

    Smith tries to retain the same approach. "I'm still curious today. I always pride myself on being childlike – not childish, but childlike." He grins, another joke.

    "What I mean by that is being curious, asking questions, having a very open mind, a very free mind. I think it was Picasso who said he spent his life trying to paint like a child, because they're so free."

    Freedom, for Smith, is a prized commodity. His company is still independent – despite an impressive turnover of over £200m, which must have luxury-good conglomerates snapping at his heels. Sir Paul (he was knighted in 2000) still owns 60 per cent, and he's involved in almost every aspect. "Nearly everything we do is in this building in Covent Garden, where I'm sitting. We have the shop design team, so tomorrow I'm seeing them for two hours about new projects in the pipeline. Today, I've been with two or three of the different designers. I'm more of a stylist these days, because there are literally too many jobs to do," he says. "I hope I'm not autocratic but I hope I keep my eye on things and direct it in the right way. I'm the only person who sees all the collections."
    The Design Museum has recreated Paul Smith's office for its exhibition The Design Museum has recreated Paul Smith's office for its exhibition
    Smith draws the crowds – he proudly relays that the opening Saturday of the latest Design Museum show is "The most visitors they've ever had. Ever. It beat any previous records." He's beaming. In Japan, he's mobbed on the streets by autograph-hunters (see the picture on page 45). He has over 200 shops in the country (to put that in perspective: he has 17 in the UK). It's natural, therefore, to wonder if Smith is the quintessentially English designer, offering fundamentally English clothes to a foreign market eager to snap up a slice of our tradition. It's something that's been hypothesised a few times, and I'm eager to know what he thinks.

    "I'm confused about Britishness these days," begins Smith. "I'm not sure if it exists any more. When I first started, my very first collection was quite traditional. It had little tweed jackets, but the tweed was in colours that were unexpected. It had little checked shirts in slightly brushed cotton, which could have been seen as a country shirt, and corduroy trousers... but now, you don't really see any British looks." He ponders further, brow furrowed. "I'm not sure whether you'd call Savile Row very British these days... The world's such a small place and we get so much information now. We sell out clothes in 72 countries, so therefore you need Paul Smith fashion rather than a particular Britishness."

    But, I argue, isn't that Paul Smith approach to fashion – that oddness, that 'classic with a twist' – in itself British? Plus the fact that, as Brits ourselves, maybe our perception is warped. "That's absolutely true," says Smith, unexpectedly enthusiastic when I'm countering his assertion. But Smith is open to ideas. "I'm very British. I'm quite down-to-earth, very polite, have a sense of humour. My personal character is very British, probably more than the clothes."
    Then again, Paul Smith the man is intrinsically tied up with Paul Smith the label. It doesn't mean it won't carry on without him – Smith is adamant that he wants it to. But it's difficult to extricate the one from the other. Take that Design Museum exhibition. Smith calls it, "A very honest exhibition. It's very passionate, it's very down-to-earth, it's very hands-on". You can't help but wonder if, really, he's just talking about himself, and indeed his clothes. He's a clever man – so halfway through, it seems that the same idea clicks in his head. "Hopefully, it's just a reflection of my own personality. Just a normal bloke really. Just getting on with it."
    Hello, My Name is Paul Smith is at the Design Museum, London SE1 to 9 March, 2014

    2013年12月10日 星期二

    巴黎的Storey Art和Street Art 2013

    Dear Oba,

    12月10日晚10點50分至11點,我在NHK看到專題報倒巴黎的街頭藝術的蓬勃,復活了藝術之都的美名---其規模都很大,他們還會去支持社區/自治體的專案發展。這已是風氣,所以拍賣場有一美式家庭郵筒,四面人像,拍賣得款5000歐元。這節目採用巴黎的Storey Art和”街頭藝術” Street art - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia 兩名詞---當然,有的畫品質不佳的,政府就請人將它們清洗掉。

    BBC 在10月也有一報導整棟十樓全室內都被畫滿After gaining the relevant permissions, art gallery owner Mehdi Ben Cheikh invited artists from around the world to decorate every part of the building, inside and out. [Pictures: Rex Features/ Isa Harsin]
    · Tower block of street art in Paris - BBC 

    Oct 4, 2013 - More than 100 street artists from around the world have transformed a 10 storey Paris tower block due for demolition, into a temporary work of ...
    · BBC NEWS | Europe | Paris artists vie with false imports


    Jan 22, 2009 - Parisian street painters say they are struggling to compete with cheap pictures ... Many buy paintings of Parisian landmarks, like the nearby .... The most read story in Australasia is: In pictures: New 9/11 photos released.

    2013年12月4日 星期三

    Turner Prize

    1. News for turner prize

      1. BBC News ‎- 19 hours ago
        This year's Turner Prize-winning artwork will go on show in the Cumbrian village where it was conceived and created following its award ...
      1. Huffington Post UK‎ - 6 hours ago
    2. Turner Prize - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

      The Turner Prize, named after the painter J. M. W. Turner, is an annual prize presented to a British visual artist under the age of 50. Awarding the prize is ...

    Laure Prouvost edged out Tino Sehgal, the gamblers' favourite, to win this year's Turner prize for contemporary art, which honours a British artist under 50 for work that was exhibited in the past year. Besides the £25,000 ($42,000) prize, this should earn her quite a bit more attention for her subtle and somewhat batty work http://econ.st/IKXOsb

    2013年11月30日 星期六

    For Fervent Fans of the Dutch Masters, ‘It’s a Dream Come True’ 在紐約親近荷蘭畫派大師之作

    For Fervent Fans of the Dutch Masters, ‘It’s a Dream Come True’

    November 30, 2013
    Shin-Ichi Fukuoka, center, an avid fan of Vermeer, is flanked by works by that Dutch master at the Frick Collection’s popular show “Vermeer, Rembrandt and Hals: Masterpieces of Dutch Painting From the Mauritshuis.”
    Shin-Ichi Fukuoka, center, an avid fan of Vermeer, is flanked by works by that Dutch master at the Frick Collection’s popular show “Vermeer, Rembrandt and Hals: Masterpieces of Dutch Painting From the Mauritshuis.”
    Damon Winter/The New York Times
    Shin-Ichi Fukuoka, a molecular biologist from Tokyo, really — really — loves Johannes Vermeer. He has traveled around the world to visit 34 of the 36 paintings known or believed to be Vermeers.
    And last year he accepted a visiting professorship in New York in large part to witness an extraordinarily rare occurrence: the Frick Collection’s own three splendid Vermeers and three Rembrandts joined briefly by 15 works on loan from one of the world’s best Dutch collections, the Royal Picture Gallery Mauritshuis in The Hague, including one of the most famous faces in Western art, “Girl With a Pearl Earring.”
    A halo surrounds Golden Age paintings from the Northern Netherlands more than almost any period of art. The Dutch masters of the 17th century — among them Vermeer, Rembrandt, Hals, Fabritius — draw loyal and obsessive museumgoers who rival those Wagner fanatics who travel the world to hear every “Ring” cycle.
    Like Mr. Fukuoka, they arrange their vacations, their business trips, their reading, their friends and a good portion of the rest of their lives around seeing the quiet masterpieces created during one of the high points in painting’s history. The Frick show “Vermeer, Rembrandt and Hals” — made possible because the Mauritshuis is loaning out its treasures during an extensive renovation — broke a single-day attendance record during the exhibition’s first weekend. But a convergence is also driving traffic to the exhibition: With four Vermeers at the Frick through Jan. 19, five in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s collection, four at the National Gallery of Art in Washington and one attributed, in whole or in part, to Vermeer now on loan to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Eastern Seaboard temporarily features 38.8 percent of all known Vermeers, accessible by Amtrak. (A reported 37th painting has long been disputed.)
    “It’s a dream come true,” Dr. Fukuoka said during a recent visit to the Frick, explaining that, as a young man, he fell in love with Vermeer’s work while researching the history of the microscope in Delft, the artist’s hometown. “He doesn’t try to interpret the world,” he said. “There’s no egocentrism. He just tried to describe the world as it was. I think of him as a photographer in an age before photography.”
    Vermeer’s “Girl With a Pearl Earring” is on loan to the Frick.
    Vermeer’s “Girl With a Pearl Earring” is on loan to the Frick.
    Royal Picture Gallery Mauritshuis, The Hague
    Dr. Fukuoka was so moved that he organized his own Vermeer exhibition in Tokyo last year, displaying high-resolution framed photographs of the paintings in a gallery that he rented, drawing 150,000 visitors over 10 months despite having not a single actual painting. (A show of Mauritshuis works on view at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum last year, including “Girl With a Pearl Earring,” drew more than a million visitors over just two and a half months.)
    The line forms early, in rain or bitter cold, for the Frick show, whose timed tickets cost $20 and include the audio guide. (Admission this Friday night and other selected Friday nights is free.)
    In addition to general Dutch masters mania, the show is also benefiting from the popularity of “The Goldfinch,” the new novel by Donna Tartt; the book is inspired by a small, powerful painting of the same title, on loan from the Mauritshuis, by Carel Fabritius, a student of Rembrandt who died young. Heidi Rosenau, a spokeswoman for the Frick, said that the museum has felt the newfound popularity of the Fabritius painting: For every 1,000 postcards it sold of “Girl With a Pearl Earring,” about 800 of “The Goldfinch” have been sold since the show opened on Oct. 22.
    William Thurston, a gastroenterologist from San Jose, Calif., caught a plane to New York just to see the Frick show and attend a lecture on the visiting Dutch works by the Mauritshuis’s senior curator, Quentin Buvelot.
    “I wouldn’t miss something like this,” Dr. Thurston said. “The history of art and the history of Western culture are what I’m interested in, and they’re so woven together, it’s just wonderful for me to come see things like this.” His passion is not limited to the Dutch; he has flown to New York on three consecutive weekends for Frick lectures about the Italian Renaissance master Giovanni Bellini and traveled to Philadelphia, St. Louis and Washington specifically to see shows covering much of the sweep of Western art. “I organize all my travel time around things like this,” he said.
    Jonathan Janson, an aficionado of Dutch painting who is behind the most popular and perhaps most obsessive amateur Vermeer website, essentialvermeer.com, said that in his experience, a love of Dutch painting tends to peak with Vermeer and Rembrandt.
    “For example, there really aren’t a lot of Frans Hals people out there, besides scholars and dealers, that I’ve found,” said Mr. Janson, an American painter who lives in Rome and also maintains a Rembrandt site. “After the big two, there’s sort of a ledge.”
    But that said, Dutch painting fans of all sorts seek him out as something of a high command of amateur ardor, which makes sense given that he says he sometimes spends five hours a day working on his Vermeer site.
    “It might be hard to believe, but there are people traipsing around the world all the time in search of these kinds of paintings,” he said. “And I guess I hear from them because they want to find somebody else who knows why they’re doing this kind of crazy thing.”
    With longing, he added, “I wish I could be in New York right now.”


    Damon Winter/The New York Times
    東京的分子生物學家福岡伸一(Shin-Ichi Fukuoka)從心底里喜歡約翰尼斯·弗美爾(Johannes Vermeer)。他到世界各地去欣賞弗美爾的畫作,在36幅已知或據信出自弗美爾之手的作品中,他看過34幅。
    去年,他接受了一個紐約的訪問教授邀請,這很大程度上是因為他想要 親眼見證一場非同尋常、難得一見的盛事:弗里克收藏(Frick Collection)藝術博物館收藏的三幅弗美爾佳作、三幅倫勃朗以及從世界頂級的荷蘭畫派收藏之一——海牙的毛里茨住宅皇家美術館 (Royal Picture Gallery Mauritshuis)借來的15幅作品,其中包括西方藝術史上最著名的面孔之一——《戴珍珠耳環的少女》(Girl With a Pearl Earring)。
    與福岡先生一樣,他們的度假、出差、閱讀、朋友和其他相當大一部分 生活,都是圍繞着欣賞這些寂靜無聲的繪畫史巔峰之作進行安排的。弗里克的這次「弗美爾、倫勃朗和哈爾斯」(Vermeer, Rembrandt and Hals)展覽——多虧了毛里茨美術館在大規模翻新期間外借了館藏,才促成了這次展覽——在開幕後的第一個周末就打破了單日參觀人數紀錄。不過這股熱潮也 是因為幾場盛事湊到了一起:弗里克博物館的四幅弗美爾的作品展出到1月19日,與此同時,大都會藝術博物館(Metropolitan Museum of Art)展出着五幅弗美爾,華盛頓的國家藝術館(National Gallery of Art)展出着四幅弗美爾,還有一幅作品被認為可能有部分或全部都是弗美爾創作的,現在借給了費城藝術博物館(Philadelphia Museum of Art),這意味着,在弗美爾所有的已知畫作中,美國東海岸目前擁有其中的38.8%,乘坐美鐵(Amtrak)就可以參觀完這些作品。(坊間曾傳出找到 了第37幅弗美爾,但始終存在爭議。)
    福岡博士在最近參觀弗里克博物館時說,「這是圓了我的一個夢,」他 說年輕的時候曾在弗美爾的家鄉代爾夫特研究顯微鏡的歷史,那時他就愛上了弗美爾的作品。他說,「他從沒有試圖解讀這個世界。沒有以自我為中心。他只是嘗試 描繪世界本來的樣子。我把他看做是沒有照相機的時代的一名攝影師。」
    Royal Picture Gallery Mauritshuis, The Hague
    福岡博士被深深打動,以至於去年在東京自己辦了一個弗美爾畫展。他 把弗美爾畫作的高分辨率照片放在相框里,在一個租來的畫廊里進行展示,儘管沒有一幅真正的作品,這次展出還是在10個月的時間裡吸引了15萬參觀者。(去 年,東京都美術館[Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum]展出了毛里茨美術館的藏品,其中包括《戴珍珠耳環的少女》,2個半月的時間裡吸引了超過100萬參觀者。)
    除了總體上對荷蘭繪畫大師的狂熱,這次展覽還得益於唐娜·塔特 (Donna Tartt)的新小說《金翅雀》(The Goldfinch);這本書的靈感來自於一幅同名的著名小畫,是從毛里茨美術館借來的法布利契亞斯。英年早逝的法布利契亞斯曾是倫勃朗的學生。弗里克發 言人海迪·羅斯諾(Heidi Rosenau)說,博物館已經感受到一股新出現的法布利契亞斯熱潮:自從展覽10月22日開幕以來,每賣出1000張《戴珍珠耳環的少女》的明信片,就 有800張《金翅雀》的明信片售出。
    加州聖何塞的胃腸病學家威廉·瑟斯頓(William Thurston) 為了看弗里克展,專程乘飛機前往紐約,並參加了一個關於荷蘭畫派的講座,主講人是毛里茨高級策展人比昆廷·弗洛(Quentin Buvelot)。
    瑟斯頓說,「這樣的活動我絕不會錯過。藝術史和西方文化史是我所感 興趣的,它們是交織在一起的,對於我來說,能看到這樣的東西太棒了。」他的興趣不僅限於荷蘭;他曾連續三個周末飛到紐約,聽弗里克博物館主辦的關於意大利 文藝復興大師喬瓦尼·貝利尼(Giovanni Bellini)的講座,並前往費城、聖路易斯和華盛頓,專門去看西方藝術的展覽。他說,「這些活動是我旅行安排的核心。」
    荷蘭繪畫愛好者喬納森·詹森(Jonathan Janson)創辦了essentialvermeer.com,是最受歡迎、或許也是最專註的業餘弗美爾主題網站。他說,根據他的經驗,對荷蘭繪畫的熱愛往往在弗美爾和倫勃朗兩個人身上達到頂點。

    2013年11月29日 星期五

    :The art of copying at the Louvre

    CNN看到這短片介紹Matisse 1890年臨摩Chardin 的一幅…..:The art of copying at the Louvre - YouTube

    Alain de Botton: How art can make us happier (Alastair Sooke)

    State of the Art

    Alain de Botton: How art can make us happier

    Spring (Fruit Trees in Bloom)
    (Claude Monet/Phaidon)
    By thinking too much and feeling too little, we are missing out on the true enjoyment of art, philosopher Alain de Botton tells Alastiar Sooke.
    Type the words “Spring (Fruit Trees in Bloom)” into an online search engine and in less than a second you will be looking at a sparkling vista of trees erupting in a starburst of pale blossom like an exploding firework. The phrase is the title of an Impressionist oil painting by the French master Claude Monet that belongs to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
    According to the museum’s website, the painting was executed in 1873 in Argenteuil, a village on the River Seine northwest of Paris where the Impressionist artists used to gather. Signed and dated “73 Claude Monet” in the lower left corner, it is almost 40in (1m) wide and 24.5in (62cm) high. In 1903, when it was known as Apple Blossoms, it was bought for $2,100 by the New York art dealership Knoedler & Co. The Met acquired it in 1926.
    Concise, sober information like this is typical of the insights that museums commonly provide about artworks in their collections. Dates, dimensions, provenance: these are the bread and butter of scholarship and art history.
    But by offering details about pictures in this manner, are museums fundamentally missing the point of what art is all about? One man who believes that they are is the British philosopher Alain de Botton, whose new book, Art as Therapy, co-written with the art theorist John Armstrong, is a polite but provocative demolition of the way that museums and galleries routinely present art to the public.
    The way you make me feel
    “Imagine an Impressionist picture,” de Botton tells me in his book-lined office in north-west London. “It’s a beautiful spring day in northern France and the flowers are out and the sky is blue. A lot of people might see it and say, ‘Ooh, is it a Manet or a Monet? I don’t know, I’m intimidated.’ I want to give viewers the courage to bring more of themselves to a work of art, and to ask them: what ultimately do you think? Is it a cheerful picture? If so, let’s not be embarrassed about that feeling.”
    Alain de Botton
    Spring (Fruit Trees in Bloom) is exactly the sort of picture to which de Botton is referring: serene, untroubled, and redolent of a simple joie de vivre that some people might describe as ‘chocolate box’. Yet the Metropolitan avoids tackling any of this, and ducks big questions about the painting such as: how does it make you feel? For me, the answer is joyous and peaceful, in a lazy, contented, snoozing-after-lunch kind of way. Yet reading the online label, you’d never guess that Monet had the power to summon pleasurable and soothing emotions such as these.
    “In the art world, the question, ‘What is art for?’ makes people uncomfortable,” explains de Botton, who has since been invited to re-caption works of art in three museums around the world: the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto, and the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne. (His new displays will open simultaneously next April.) “The art establishment downplays emotional or psychological readings of pictures – even though these are the principal ways in which people actually engage with art. But I think that you have to start with the emotional bond between the viewer and the object. If you say that a painting is important because it was owned by so-and-so, or because it shows that fascism is bad, or whatever – these are not reasons to love a painting.”
    Does he feel, then, that art historians often get it all wrong? “Yes, absolutely,” he says. “The art-historical prejudice is that the more you know, the more you will be able to understand and feel. But I argue that while you need to know a little bit, the rewards tail off quickly. Doing a PhD [in art history] won’t necessarily bring you exponentially more pleasure or interest. Instead, art should be a form of therapy, which should be understood broadly as an aid to living and dying.”
    Healthy scepticism
    As its title suggests, de Botton’s book is a kind of self-help guide that explains how works of art and architecture can equip us to exist with greater equanimity and self-understanding. Each chapter is devoted to a different theme: love, nature, money, politics. Thus, according to de Botton, the plethora of precise little details in Hugo van der Goes’s The Adoration of the Shepherds (c.1475) should remind us that attentiveness to a lover’s quirks is an important part of what keeps a relationship alive. Richard Serra’s sorrowful sculpture Fernando Pessoa (2007-08) can teach us “how to suffer more successfully”, because it presents in monumental form the ubiquity and dignity of grief.
    The Adoration of the Shepherds
    (Hugo van der Goes/Phaidon)
    Occasionally the life lessons that de Botton discovers within art seem forced or far-fetched: I am not convinced that Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer’s Modernist residence Casa de Canoas (1953), for instance, is “a temple to erotic hope”. Yet throughout the book, de Botton and Armstrong, who teaches at Melbourne University in Australia, retain a refreshing scepticism towards received ideas about art.
    A good example of this is their attitude towards philanthropic businessmen. “Artistic philanthropy feels weird,” de Botton tells me. “The classic model is the tycoon who has been squeezing his workers, abusing legislation, poisoning water wells, and so on – and at the end of his life, with his huge fortune, he buys a tender, beautiful work of art showing the mercy of the Virgin. The painting has been funded by a life that is utterly antithetical to the values in the picture. I believe that we should try to live the values in works of art every day, rather than at the very end when you buy that painting and give it to the Met.”
    What, then, does de Botton make of the world-record price of more than $142 million achieved by Francis Bacon’s triptych Three Studies of Lucian Freud (1969) at Christie’s in New York earlier this month, making it the most expensive work of art ever sold at auction? “Financial value and artistic value are separate,” he says. “Sometimes Vermeer is very valuable, and sometimes he’s not – but his paintings remain the same. So [with the price of the Bacon triptych] you learn a lot about society and economics and how taste is formed. But from the point of view of art, it means nothing.”
    De Botton pauses, and a playful smile flickers across his lips. “A lot of emotional responses to art are available to people from a postcard,” he says. “This is an idea that museums are desperately resistant to, because the whole edifice immediately falls when you say that you can pick up between 80 and 90% [of what a work of art has to offer] by looking at a poster. I think we should start valuing art like literature. The original of, say, [James Joyce’s] Ulysses costs a certain amount and every other edition costs £9.99 – yet it’s considered fine to have the £9.99 copy. As punters, we are absurdly obsessed by original works of art – and we shouldn’t be.”
    Alastair Sooke is art critic of The Daily Telegraph.

    2013年11月22日 星期五

    Jože Plečnik, Max Fabiani,


    * 兩位建築大師的故事  11月22日(五)16:20
    導演:阿米爾.穆拉托維切 (Amir Muratovic)
    2006, 紀錄片, 片長 81分鐘



    cture in Slovenia was introduced by Max Fabiani, and in the mid-war period, Jože Plečnik and Ivan Vurnik.[259] In the second half of the 20th century, the national and universal style were merged by the architects Edvard Ravnikar and Marko Mušič, Vojteh Ravnikar, Jurij Kobe and groups of younger architects.


    Jože Plečnik (About this sound pronunciation ) (23 January 1872 – 7 January 1957) was a Slovene architect who had a strong impact on the modern identity of the city of Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia, most notably by designing the iconic Triple Bridge and the Slovene National and University Library building, as well as banks along the Ljubljanica River, the Ljubljana open market buildings, the Ljubljana cemetery, parks, plazas etc. The impact he had on Ljubljana has been compared to the impact Antonio Gaudi had on Barcelona.[1]
    His style is associated with the Vienna Secession style of architecture (a type of Art Nouveau). Besides in Ljubljana, he worked in Vienna, Belgrade and on the Prague Castle. He influenced the avant-garde Czech Cubism. He is also a founding member of the Ljubljana School of Architecture, joining it upon an invitation by Ivan Vurnik, another notable Ljubljana architect.


    Plečnik was born in Ljubljana, Carniola, Austria-Hungary, present-day Slovenia. He studied with noted Viennese architect and educator Otto Wagner and worked in Wagner's architecture office until 1900.


    From 1900 through 1910, while practicing in the Wagner's office in Vienna, he designed the Langer House (1900) and the Zacherlhaus (1903–1905).
    His 1910–1913 Church of the Holy Spirit (Heilig-Geist-Kirche) is remarkable for its innovative use of poured-in-place concrete as both structure and exterior surface, and also for its abstracted classical form language. Most radical is the church's crypt, with its slender concrete columns and angular, cubist capitals and bases.
    In 1911, Plečnik moved to Prague, where he taught at the college of arts and crafts. The Czech President at the time, Tomáš Masaryk, appointed Plečnik chief architect for the 1920 renovation of the Prague Castle. From 1920 until 1934 Plečnik completed numerous projects at the castle, including renovation of numerous gardens and courtyards, the design and installation of monuments and sculptures, and the design of numerous new interior spaces, including the Plečnik Hall completed in 1930, which features three levels of abstracted Doric colonnades.
    Upon the 1921 establishment of the Ljubljana School of Architecture in his hometown of Ljubljana, he was invited by the fellow Slovene architect Ivan Vurnik to become one of its first faculty and moved to teach architecture at the University of Ljubljana. Plečnik would remain in Ljubljana until his death, and it is there that his influence as an architect is most noticeable.

    Giving the city of Ljubljana its modern identity

    Plečnik gave the capital of Slovenia, the city of Ljubljana, its modern identity by designing iconic buildings such as the Slovene National and University Library building. He also designed other notable buildings, including the Vzajemna Insurance Company Offices, and contributed to many civic improvements. He renovated the city's bridges and the Ljubljanica River banks, and designed the Ljubljana open market buildings, the Ljubljana cemetery, parks, plazas etc. Buildings designed by Plečnik were built by the constructor Matko Curk.[2]
    During the Communist period of Slovene history Plečnik fell out of favor as a Catholic and his teaching role at the university was gradually reduced. He received fewer commissions, although he did complete some smaller monuments, fountains and church renovations in the 1950s. Plečnik died in 1957 and received an official state funeral in Žale.


    In the 1980s, with postmodernist interest in Plečnik's work, the general interest in him has been revived, as well, after being forgotten during the 1960s and 1970s.[citation needed] Since then, Plečnik's legacy has been commemorated in various ways, most notably in 1990s on the Slovene 500 tolar banknote, with the National and University Library of Slovenia depicted on the reverse.
    The unrealized Cathedral of Freedom designed by Plečnik is featured on the Slovene 10 cent euro coin. [1] Slovenska akropola is the title of an 1987 album by Slovene industrial music group Laibach. During August 2008, a maquette of the Parliament was featured at the Project Plečnik exhibition on the architect's life, held at the Council of the European Union building in Brussels, Belgium on the occasion of the Slovene EU Presidency. The exhibition's curator Boris Podrecca described the Parliament as "the most charismatic object" of Plečnik's opus.[3]
    In addition, on 23rd January 2012, to celebrate the 140th anniversary of Plečnik's birth, a picture of the Triple Bridge was featured as the official Google logo (Doodle) adaptation in Slovenia.[1]

    See also


    1. ^ Jump up to: a b c Jože Plečnik was for Ljubljana what Antonio Gaudi was for Barcelona (In Slovene: "Jože Plečnik za Ljubljano tisto, kar je bil za Barcelono Antonio Gaudi"), MMC RTV Slovenia, 23 January 2012
    2. Jump up ^ Kobilica, Katarina; Studen, Andrej (1999). Volja do dela je bogastvo: mikrozgodovinska študija o ljubljanskem stavbnem podjetniku Matku Curku (1885-1953) in njegovi družini [The Will to Work Is a Fortune: A Microhistorical Study About the Ljubljana Construction Businessman Matko Curk (1885–1953)]. Korenine (in Slovene). Nova revija. ISBN 961-6017-78-0.
    3. Jump up ^ Triera.com: Podreccova slovenska trilogija v Bruslju (Slovene)

    Further reading

    • Prelovšek, Damjan. (1992) Jože Plečnik: 1872-1957: Architectura perennis. Salzburg. Residenz verlag. Published in English version in 1997 by Yale University Press. ISBN 0-300-06953-7
    • Margolius, Ivan. (1995) "Jože Plečnik: Church of the Sacred Heart." Architecture in Detail series. London. Phaidon Press.
    • Krečič, Peter. (1993) "Plečnik, the complete works." New York. Whitney Library of Design. ISBB 0-8230-2565-9

    External links

    Max Fabiani, Slovene Maks, Italian Maximilian (29 April 1865 – 18 August 1962) was a cosmopolitan trilingual Italian-Austrian-Slovenian architect with Friulan and Tyrolean[disambiguation needed] ancestry, born in the village of Kobdilj near Štanjel on the Kras plateau, province of Gorizia and Gradisca, present-day Slovenia. Together with Ciril Metod Koch, he introduced the Vienna Secession style of architecture (a type of Art Nouveau) in the Slovenia.[1]


    Fabiani was born to father Antonio Fabiani, a Friulian latifondist from Paularo of Bergamasque ancestry, and mother Charlotte von Kofler, a Triestine aristocrat of Tyrolean origin. He grew up in a cosmopolitan trilingual environment: besides Italian, the language of his family, and Slovene, the language of his social environment, he learned German at a very young age.[2]
    His was a wealthy family which could afford to provide a good education for the children. He attended elementary school in Kobdilj in his father's house, and the German language Realschule in Ljubljana, then moved to Vienna, where he attended architecture courses at the Vienna University of Technology. After earning his diploma in 1889, a scholarship enabled him to travel for three years (1892–1894) to Asia Minor and through most of Europe.


    The Portois-Fix Palace in Vienna
    Upon returning to Vienna, he joined the studio of the architect Otto Wagner on Wagner's personal invitation, and stayed there until the end of the century. During this period he did not only concentrate his interests on design, but also cultivated his vocation as town planner and passionately devoted himself to teaching.
    Fabiani's first large-scale architectural project was the urban plan for the Carniolan capital Ljubljana, which was badly damaged by an earthquake in 1895. Fabiani won a competition against the historicist architect Camillo Sitte, and was chosen by the Ljubljana Town Council as the main urban planner. One of the reasons for this choice was Fabiani was considered by the Slovene Liberal Nationalists as a Slovene.[3]
    With the personal sponsorship of the Liberal nationalist mayor of Ljubljana Ivan Hribar, Fabiani designed several important buildings in the Carniolan capital, including the Mladika palace, which is now the seat of the Slovenian Foreign Ministry.
    His work in Ljubljana helped him to become well known in the Slovenia, convincing Slovene nationalists in the Austrian Littoral to entrust him with the design for the National Halls in Gorizia (1903) and in Trieste (1904).[4]
    Fabiani also created the urban plan for Bielsko in Poland. In 1902, these two urban plans won him the first honorary masters degree in the field of urban planning by the University of Vienna in Austria-Hungary.[5]
    In 1917, he was named professor at the University of Vienna,[6] and in 1919 one of his pupils, Ivan Vurnik, offered him a teaching position at the newly established University of Ljubljana,[7] Fabiani however refused the offer, quit the teaching position in Vienna, and decided to settle in Gorizia, which had been annexed to the Kingdom of Italy, thus becoming an Italian citizen. During the 1920s, he coordinated a large scale reconstruction of historical monuments in the areas in the Julian March that had been devastated by the Battles of the Isonzo during World War I.
    In late 1935, he accepted the nomination for mayor (podestà) of his native Štanjel by the Fascist regime, for the National Fascist Party.[2] He remained mayor during World War II, using his knowledge of German language and his cultural acquaintances to convince the German troops to spare the village from destruction.[8][9] He also maintained communication with local Slovene partisans. Nevertheless, the monumental fortifications part of the village, which he himself had renovated during the 1930s, were eventually destroyed in the fight between the Wehrmacht and the Slovene partisans.[10]
    In 1944, Fabiani relocated back to Gorizia where he lived until his death.

    Notable works

    The most notable works designed by Fabiani include:
    • Mladika Palace (Ljubljana, 1896),
    • Palace Portois & Fix (Vienna, 1898),
    • Palace Artaria (Vienna, 1900),
    • Palace Urania (Vienna) (1902),
    • the Revenue Office building (Gorizia, 1903),
    • the National Hall in Trieste (1904),
    • Prešeren Square and the Prešeren Monument (Ljubljana; unveiled in 1905),
    • Stabile Palace (Trieste, 1906)
    • the urban development plan for Ljubljana (1895),
    • Villa Wechsler Vienna (1911)
    • San Germano church (Brijuni, 1912)
    • the plan for the reconstruction of Gorizia (1921)
    • the general urban development plan for Venice (1952).
    • Restoration of Gorizia duom, Gorizia (1919)
    • The general urban development plan of Monfalcone, Italia (1919)
    • Villa Bigot (Gorizia, 1921)
    • Pellegrini's home in Gorizia (1922)
    • Felberbaum's home in Gorizia (1925)
    • San Giorgio church (Lucinico, 1927)
    • Ferrari's garden (Štanjel, 1930–40)
    • Sacro Cuore metropolitan church (Gorizia, 1934)
    • "Tower of memory", memorial to the Italian soldiers who died in World War I (Gorizia, 1937)
    • Casa del Fascio (House of Fascism) (Štanjel, 1938)



    • In 1984, in Vienna Simmering (11th District), the Fabiani Street (In German: Fabianistraße) was named after him.
    • Since 2008, the Slovenian highest award for best achievements in urban planning is named after him.[11]