2017年12月29日 星期五

Korean collections, from the golden bronzes of the 6th century to the screens of the Choson period (1392-1908)

National Museum of Asian Arts - Guimet
A detour to the quiet Morning Country?

Come and discover the treasures of our Korean collections, from the golden bronzes of the 6th century to the screens of the Choson period (1392-1908).

More information about Korean collections:

Un détour par le Pays du Matin calme ?
Venez découvrir les trésors de nos collections coréennes, des bronzes dorés du VIe siècle aux paravents de l'Époque Choson (1392-1908).
Plus d'informations sur les collections coréennes : http://www.guimet.fr/collections/coree/
📷 Stéphane Ruchaud

2017年12月28日 星期四

Sergei Pavlovich Evangulov (1893-1986)

Согласно народному календарю, 27 декабря (по новому стилю) - Филимонов день, когда "выходят ехидны, кикиморы и жалятся у оконниц, а нетопыри ухают, белесоватые глазницы пучат".
Евангулов С.П. | Эскизы-варианты скульптур "Кикимора" и "Пряха" | 1984 г.
Сергей Павлович Евангулов (1893-1986) - заслуженный художник РСФСР, скульптор малых форм, мастер художественной резьбы.

According to the folk calendar, on December 27 (according to a new style) - Filimonov is the day when "echidna, kikimoras come out and sting at the windows, while the batters are moaning, whitish eye sockets are whipped."

Evangulov S.P. | | Sketches-variants of sculptures "Kikimora" and "Pryakha" | 1984

Sergei Pavlovich Evangulov (1893-1986) - Honored Artist of the RSFSR, sculptor of small forms, master of artistic carving.

根據民間的日曆,12月27日(根據一個新的風格) - Filimonov是“針鼴,kikimoras出來,刺在窗戶,而打擊者呻吟,白色的眼窩被鞭打的一天。

Evangulov S.P. | | 草圖 - 雕塑“Kikimora”和“Pryakha”|的變種1984年

Sergei Pavlovich Evangulov(1893-1986) - RSFSR榮譽藝術家,小型雕塑家,藝術雕刻大師。

2017年12月27日 星期三

stenciling. Pochoir (French: “stencil”),

Pochoir | art | Britannica.com

Learn about this topic in these articles: stenciling. In stenciling. Pochoir (French: “stencil”), as distinguished from ordinary stenciling, is a highly refined technique of making fine limited editions of stencil prints. It is often called hand colouring, or hand illustration. The 20th-century artists Pablo Picasso and Joan Miró made prints in this technique for book… Read More. Related Topics. cliché-verre · graphic art · Joan Miró · monotype · Pablo Picasso · printmaking · rubbing · stenciling · art.

Pochoir | Definition of Pochoir by Merriam-Webster

Define pochoir: a stencil process for making colored prints or adding color to a printed key illustration.

Pochoir - Smithsonian Libraries - Smithsonian Institution

Introduction by Stephen H. Van Dyk and Carolyn Siegel. Select Resources About Pochoir. The Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum Library, Smithsonian Institution Libraries, has a rich collection of vibrantly colored illustrated books and periodicals that were created using the pochoir stenciling process. The pochoir process, characterized by its crisp lines and brilliant colors, produces images that have a freshly printed or wet appearance. This display provides a brief history and ...

The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 
The "Gazette du bon ton" was published from November 1912 to summer 1915 and from January 1920 through December 1925. The complete run consisted of twelve volumes. The "Gazette" featured elegant fashions of pre- and postwar France by leading designers, utilizing the technique that revolutionized fashion illustration—pochoir, or stenciling by hand with watercolor. Contributing artists included Georges Lepape, Pierre Grissaud, H. R. Dammy, Georges Barbier, Strimpl, Maggie, and Guy Arnoux.
Featured Artwork of the Day: Gazette du bon ton: arts, modes et frivolities | 1912–15 and 1920–25 | French http://met.org/2iyC0aP


Lustreware - Wikipedia

Lusterware or Lustreware is a type of pottery or porcelain with a metallic glaze that gives the effect of iridescence, produced by metallic oxides in an overglaze finish, which is given a second firing at a lower temperature in a "muffle kiln", reduction kiln, which excludes oxygen. Contents. [hide]. 1 Pre-modern wares; 2 English and American lustreware; 3 See also; 4 Notes; 5 References; 6 External links. Pre-modern wares[edit]. The first use of lustre decoration was as painting on glass.

ラスター彩とは、焼成した白い錫の鉛釉の上に、銅や銀などの酸化物で文様を描いて、低火度還元焔焼成で、金彩に似た輝きをもつ、9世紀-14世紀のイスラム陶器の一種。ラスターとは、落ち着いた輝きという意味。 中国建窯の、曜変・油滴・禾目などの天目茶碗は、この影響を受けて作られ、ラスター現象が見られる。ウィキペディア

Modigliani: Fevered Life, Pure Line by Jenny Uglow: Modigliani VR: The Ochre Atelier behind-the-scenes

The New York Review of Books

"The curators of two exhibitions of Modigliani's work insist that they are offering a corrective to the myth of the artist’s life as a wild, reckless, self-destructive ride," writes Jenny Uglow. "But can we separate the two, the life from the myth?"

These sensual images, with curving shoulders, breasts, and thighs outlined in black, with clever references to both old masters and contemporary styles, were a bald commercial venture. But these nudes overcome the cynical…

Jenny Uglow

A single Modigliani portrait or nude is strikingly beautiful—the elongated face, the tilted head, the lithe pose. Yet when a host of them crowds together, as they do in a major retrospective currently at the Tate Modern, the initial impact is oddly diluted.
 Surrounded by portraits from his first years in Paris, my first response was, “Surely they couldn’t all have had V-shaped eyebrows and sunken, oval eyes?” The mannerisms display a young man out to make a mark, to signal his presence in an immediately recognizable style. It’s irresistible to quote Jean Cocteau, who left Amedeo Modigliani’s portrait of him in the studio because, he claimed, he couldn’t afford the cab-fare to take it home. “It doesn’t look like me,” he said. “But it does look like Modigliani, which is better.”   

Princeton University Art Museum/Art Resource NYScala, Florence/Tate Amedeo Modigliani: Jean Cocteau, 1916; click to enlarge To emphasize the sameness of the portraits, though, is to ignore the subtle modulations, the rough backgrounds that let the figure stand out, the urgent quest for expression, perhaps a striving to understand the nature of identity itself. Sometimes, Modigliani suggests the spirit of his subjects so acutely that we can almost hear them talking, as in the portraits of his dapper, nervy patron, Paul Guillaume. And in the Tate show, two people escape his formula altogether, as if their personalities were too large to fit the frame. One is an unrecognizable, bubble-faced Picasso, the other a marvelously forceful Diego Rivera, filling the canvas with rolling energy. 

 A Sephardic Jew, born into a trading family in Livorno, Modigliani was often ill, suffering from tuberculosis in childhood. In his teens, he studied art and paid visits to Venice, Florence, and Siena, and read Baudelaire and Mallarmé, Nietzsche, and Bergson. Restless and bored, he dreamed of Paris, home of the daring Cubists and Fauves. He arrived there in 1906, aged twenty-one, two years after Picasso, Matisse, and Brancusi, and headed straight for the legendary bohemian village Montmartre. There, he found a patron in the doctor and collector Paul Alexandre, and shared studio space with other artists in the rue du Delta. (A fine portrait of Paul’s brother, Jean Alexandre, with a sweet-faced nude on the back of the canvas, is like an image of the dress and undress of this milieu.)  

 Richard Nathanson/Photo by Prudence Cuming Associates, London/The Jewish Museum, New York Amedeo Modigliani: Female Nude with a Lighted Candle and Chandeliers, inspired by Anna Akhmatova, circa 1911; click to enlarge An evocative montage of photographs and film brings Montmartre before us and shows Modigliani on the move in 1909, when he followed Brancusi across the city to Montparnasse. With its famous cafés of La Rotonde, Le Dome, and La Closerie des Lilas, and the collective studios of La Ruche (the beehive), Montparnasse was a crossroads of ideas and aesthetic movements, consciously cosmopolitan. Modigliani’s early works, with their rough brushwork and bright colors, show how he had studied Cézanne and Toulouse-Lautrec, while his pale-visaged women betray their Symbolist heritage.  

Soon, though, like many of his peers, Modigliani looked further afield, becoming fascinated by primitivism, African masks, Egyptian statues, and the “Khmer” Buddhas of Cambodia. Encouraged by Brancusi, he turned back to an early love, sculpture, carving directly from the limestone and sandstone blocks that lay scattered around Paris building sites. Seven of his stone heads, with their elongated, simplified form, appeared among the Cubist paintings at the Salon d’Automne in 1912. The selection of sculpted heads at the Tate—monumental, graceful, eerily calm—are balanced by his drawings of caryatids, exploring the poetics of strength, the body as architecture, or, as he put it “columns of tenderness.” 

 In the concurrent exhibition “Modigliani Unmasked,” at the Jewish Museum in New York, an array of caryatid sketches are accompanied by stylized drawings of heads whose facial geometry seems almost obsessively serene, an unobtainable ideal. The curators of both shows insist that they are offering a corrective to the myth of the artist’s life as a wild, reckless, self-destructive ride. But can we separate the two, the life from the myth? If anything, the Tate’s chronological arrangement highlights the biography, and the contrast between the purity of his line and the chaos of his life. This raises the hoary question of whether knowledge of an artist’s flaws somehow devalues the art. In Modigliani’s case, I don’t think this is the case. True, he wilfully, proudly, acted out the Modernist role of suffering artist; he priapically objectified the female body; he embraced the cultural appropriation of “primitive” art without a flicker of unease. His days were drowned in absinthe and hashish—when drunk, he yelled wild bursts of Dante and Villon and Ducasse’s mad, ferocious Chants de Maldoror (a favorite of the Surrealists a decade later). Friends watched him explode with violence or hurl himself against a wall in despair. But oh, how he worked.  

modigliani-seance The Jewish Museum, New York Amedeo Modigliani: Portrait of a Woman Taking Part in a Spiritualist Séance, circa 1906 

He could paint a portrait in an intense few hours. Several of the drawings on view in New York show his rapid quest to catch a pose—the cellist leaning over his instrument; Paul Alexandre standing stiff against the light in the studio; the tall, beautiful poet Anna Akhmatova, who arrived in Paris in 1910 and became his lover, resting on her couch. Another, more turbulent affair was with the writer Beatrice Hastings, whose portrait stands out at the Tate, with her dark hair, pursed lips and refined, independent stance. But a cooler fascination with the female body shows in the quick, mobile sketches of nudes in the New York show, and in the extraordinary array of nude paintings in London. These sensual images, with curving shoulders, breasts, and thighs outlined in black, with clever references to both old masters and contemporary styles, were a bald commercial venture. The Polish poet Léopold Zborowski, Modigliani’s dealer from 1916, suggested the scheme, provided materials, lent his room as a studio, and kept the finished paintings, paying the artist fifteen francs a day and the models five (a good wage compared to that of a factory girl). But these nudes overcome the cynical appeal to a male gaze. Their bodies are idealized, smooth shapes of sex, but their faces are those of individual women: some gaze out frankly, or peer teasingly, from beneath long lashes; others close their eyes or let their heads loll wearily, as if bored with the whole affair. The smart Algerian model, Almaisa, keeps her necklace; the upright Elvira has a self-contained dignity. It is as though Modigliani himself found peace in their calm stillness, away from his fevered life, away from the mass death and ravages of the war.   

Private Collection/Tate Amedeo Modigliani: Beatrice Hastings, 1915; click to enlarge 

In December 1917, a local policeman, shocked by the display of pubic hair, demanded that the nudes in Modigliani’s only solo exhibition in his lifetime be taken down, effectively closing the show. Four months later, he left a Paris battered by artillery fire for the south of France. The friends who went with him included the painter Chaïm Soutine and Modigliani’s young partner, Jeanne Hébuterne. He painted her over and over, with her auburn hair and pale, blank eyes; and after their daughter, also named Jeanne, was born, this seemed, at last, a more settled commitment.  

In the Midi sun, Modigliani painted flat, yet expressive portraits of friends, local peasants, and working girls and their children, and, unusually, tried his hand at Cézanne-inspired landscapes. But Paris drew him back. In 1919, he took a studio on the rue de la Grande Chaumière in Montparnasse: a brilliant virtual-reality installation with headsets at the Tate lets us enter this space, with its bare boards and filtered sunlight, ashtrays and mugs and half-finished canvases. But by now, Modigliani was seriously ill: he died of tubercular meningitis in January 1920, aged thirty-five. Two days later, heavily pregnant with their second child, Hébuterne committed suicide. The deaths enshrined the myth. Yet, above the torment, Modigliani’s paintings soared into the future, sinuous, and full of grace.

Modigliani VR: The Ochre Atelier behind-the-scenes


2017年12月26日 星期二

(NPR書介) Building Art: The Life and Work of Frank Gehry

"Architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness."
-- Frank Gehry
Here, from Pulitzer Prize–winning critic Paul Goldberger, is the first full-fledged critical biography of Frank Gehry, undoubtedly the most famous architect of our time. Goldberger follows Gehry from his humble origins—the son of working-class Jewish immigrants in Toronto—to the heights of his extraordinary career. He explores Gehry’s relationship to Los Angeles, a city that welcomed outsider artists and profoundly shaped him in his formative years. He surveys the full range of his work, from the Bilbao Guggenheim to the Walt Disney Concert Hall in L.A. to the architect’s own home in Santa Monica, which galvanized his neighbors and astonished the world. He analyzes his carefully crafted persona, in which an amiable surface masks a driving ambition. And he discusses his use of technology, not just to change the way a building looks, but to revolutionize the very practice of the field. Comprehensive and incisive, Building Art is a sweeping view of a singular artist—and an essential story of architecture’s modern era.

Frank Gehry談藝術設計X建築人生
Conversations with Frank Gehry
作者: 芭芭拉.艾森伯格
原文作者:Barbara Isenberg
台北:天下文化 出版社:2011
北京:中信,2013 (建築家弗蘭克.蓋里,臺大圖書館版本,2014海峽兩岸圖書交易會贈)

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum

Happy birthday to ‪#‎FrankGehry‬, architect of Guggenheim Museum Bilbao (Museo Guggenheim Bilbao) that opened in 1997. Gehry’s proposal for the site on the Nervion River ultimately included features that embrace both the identity of the Guggenheim Museum and its new home in the Basque Country. The building’s glass atrium refers to the famous rotunda of Frank Lloyd Wright’s New York Guggenheim, and its largest gallery is traversed by Bilbao’s Puente de La Salve, a vehicular bridge serving as one of the main gateways to the city. Learn more: http://gu.gg/YBJKq

Photo: David Heald

小編常覺得,能成為一位不凡的建築大師,除了要有獨特的風格、勇於挑戰的心態 、甚至是帶點自我或童心未泯都是挺「家常便飯」的──不信?那就拿慣用「曲線」扭轉世界的建築藝術家 Frank Gehry 來道給你知!

已屆 86 歲,在建築圈依然生龍活虎的 Frank Gehry,其設計過如畢爾包古根漢美術館、華特‧迪士尼音樂廳等不朽作品的背後,還有一項更令人激賞的設計領域,那便是他跨界打造之為數不多、卻樣樣經典的家具作品。例如老中青設計迷熟悉度 No.1 的瓦愣紙椅《Wiggle Side Chair》,在當時可是打破常見家具的設計與製造方式;而全世界僅只一張的《Tuyomyo》長椅,則代表著 Frank Gehry 不止活躍於專業領域,更熱衷投入公益活動的義舉。在這些家具的設計裡,Frank Gehry 除了融入他那招牌的雕塑線條,能結合紙、鋁、塑料及木材等不同材質,並逐一鑽研、嘗試發揮它們極大的可能性,或許才是這位建築藝術家在設計圈也備受尊崇的關鍵。

不過呀,大多數設計師皆樂見自己作品的價值水漲船高,唯獨 Frank Gehry 竟「反其道而行」地勃然大怒!而 Frank Gehry 的家具作品中除了線條美感,更多的都是他貪玩、古怪的一面!?雖然小編已說這是「家常便飯」,但相信仍滿足不了設計迷的好奇心啦!所以就讓我們再度走進【普立茲克大師與他的家具們】單元,瞧瞧這位建築藝術家的設計心路歷程吧:http://goo.gl/Dpst6C

‪#‎普立茲克大師與他的家具們‬ ‪#‎FrankGehry‬

【普立茲克大師與他的家具們】連空氣都在跳舞?建築大師 Frank Gehry 的曲線扭轉藝術 - MOT TIMES 明日誌

Frank Gehry's Lifelong Challenge: To Create Buildings That Move
SEPTEMBER 10, 2015 4:33 AM ET


Listen to the Story
Morning Edition

Frank Gehry designed the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain. "I love going to Bilbao. ... People come out and hug me," he says. "We all need love."

Dominique Faget/AFP/Getty Images

With sculptural swoops and sweeps and unusual materials, Frank Gehry changed the course of architecture. His creations, such as the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain, and the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, created a new architectural language.

At 86, Gehry is being honored with medals and museum exhibitions. He has unveiled a major river project for LA, and on Tuesday, Paul Goldberger, former architecture critic for The New York Times and The New Yorker, will publish Building Art: The Life and Work of Frank Gehry, a big new biography of Gehry.

Building Art

The Life and Work of Frank Gehry

by Paul Goldberger

Hardcover, 513 pagespurchase
biography & memoir

More on this book:
NPR reviews, interviews and more

Goldberger and Gehry have known each other for some 40 years. Gehry jokes that the biography gets "close" to capturing him — and that it even helped him learn a little about himself.

"I guess I do have an ego somewhere that comes out," he says. "I hadn't realized that I turn stuff down quite the way I do."

He has walked away from big jobs — wanting more collaboration, or more control. "I guess I'm ambitious," Gehry admits, adding that the work is artistically and emotionally fulfilling for him.

"I really want to make architecture. I love the relationship with the clients," he says. "I love going to Bilbao and people come out and hug me. We all need love. And it's nice to get it for doing things like that."

Gehry's audacious, glowing buildings capture movement, energy and light. He's taken hits from other architects and critics over the years who have said that the buildings don't work inside, or that they're too hard to construct — but stubbornly and passionately he has held onto one goal: to create buildings that inspire emotion.

"If you look at a great work of art in bronze from 600 B.C. and it makes you cry, some artist way back when was able to transmit emotion through time and space over years to today," he says.

Light reflects off the shimmering stainless steel panels on Gehry's Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles.

David McNew/Getty Images

He believes architecture can do that, too.

Art and beauty were in Gehry's DNA from the beginning. Born in Toronto, as a little boy he watched live carp swimming in his grandmother's bathtub on their way to becoming gefilte fish. He loved the shapes and movements they made. Later, fish became a motif in the buildings he designed. After he moved to Los Angeles at 18, his closest friends were artists, not architects.


Gehry stands next to his fish lamps at the opening of an exhibition in London in 2013. As a child, Gehry used to watch carp swim in his grandmother's bathtub, before they got turned into gefilte fish.

Joel Ryan/Joel Ryan/Invision/AP

"Their commitment to ordinary materials, to fresh ways to solve problems, making beauty out of the ordinary, affected him very, very profoundly," says biographer Paul Goldberger.

Take chain-link fencing — that basic barrier at construction sites and tennis courts. Gehry used it early on, in houses and commercial projects — and was ridiculed for it.

"I found the material that everybody hated," he says. It was a material "that was used ubiquitously by all cultures throughout the world, and that disconnection between those two ideas interested me, so I started looking at how I could make chain link — because I hated it, too — why not try to make it beautiful?"

Over the years, Gehry's materials got more sophisticated. The Louis Vuitton Foundation in Paris is constructed with billowing, soaring glass and wood. Before that, he made a sensuous Disney Concert Hall out of supple stainless steel. And glowing silver titanium swirls in the curves of the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain.

With 12 huge glass "sails," the Louis Vuitton Foundation takes the form of a sailboat among the trees of the Bois de Boulogne in Paris.

Bertrand Guay/AFP/Getty Images

"I was trying to express emotion," he explains. "The curves were from the fish — were a sense of movement with inert materials, which the Greeks did, the Indian cultures did it. We're living in a culture, in a time where movement is pervasive. Everything is moving. And so if we hook onto that and use it as part of our language, our architectural language, there's some resonance for it."


Gehry's "Dancing House" (also known as "Fred and Ginger") in Prague.

Caitlin via Flickr Creative Commons

Movement, emotion, unusual materials, going against current thinking. These lifelong Gehry themes got transformed when digital technology came along. Goldberger says the digital age let Gehry catch up with his artist friends, through architecture.

"Frank was trying to conceive in his head shapes and forms and curves that were not particularly realizable by engineers," Goldberger explains.

Software from the aerospace industry let Gehry move his dreams into realities. He and his staff could engineer what sometimes started as squiggles on paper and convert them into structures that would stand up. They made thrilling buildings unlike any that had ever been seen before.


Gehry, 86, says his work can never be perfect: "by definition it can't because we're defective creatures." But that hasn't stopped him from creating inspired structures for decades.

Lionel Bonaventure/AFP/Getty Images

Fame and admiration engulfed Frank Gehry. But Goldberger publishes a revealing quote that shows Gehry can't take unmitigated joy at his accomplishment. "I wish I could live in the place people are making for me. I want to be popular, but I don't trust it," he said.

Gehry feels his work is never perfect, never finished.

"It can never be perfect," he says. "By definition it can't because we're defective creatures."

Building Art: The Life and Work of Frank Gehry is a penetrating portrait of a "defective creature" who helped to transform architecture in our time.