Archive for ‘we love art’

March 13, 2013

1993: Experimental Jet-Set, Trash and No Star @ the New Museum

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The New Museum is currently showing a collection of works produced in New York City during the year of 1993. For those who do not remember (or eventually did not quite live through) the early 90’s, those were messy times surrounded by a very strange sentiment of war being over and then not quite; of rethinking the concepts of identity and otherness through the lenses of those who braved a new world that became completely western — or not; that unwelcomed entirely any form of dictatorship — with a few exceptions; marked by the massive integration of the European continent and the silently (maybe not that much) unwelcome dependency the American Way of Life developed towards its Latin-American immigrants. It was the times when some of the most beloved idols revealed themselves as homosexuals and died of AIDS (and I honestly admit I think only of Freddie Mercury here, but that man’s voice and presence was worth about 20 of the other icons around by then and represented oh, so many people’s pain at that time); times when being a woman started to mean something different at the office and at home, but not entirely.

This exhibition takes us back to a time when wearing black from head to toe actually made a lot of sense. Many were in grief for loved ones that in their death bed, suffered from some bizarre moral stalking that welcomed disease and death as a fit punishment for defying whatever authoritarianism they called virtue. Many could not be cheerful thanks to the end of the nuclear threat when the sort of immaterial Star Wars that marked the Reagan government in the 1980s was replaced with a very real Desert Storm in the early 1990s by his successor, Mr. Bush, the father (as now he’s come to be referenced). All this pain and questioning is there, clearly exposed in the many floors of the beautiful New Museum, in a very crude and honest way to try to make sense of that strange new world.

Femininity and homosexuality intertwine in a discussion about who has the right to define and possess gender, showing itself in a variety of works that expose the many forms sexuality can take in a challenging, almost aggressive form, as if daring the viewers to look away, testing their ability to defy convention and regard difference as the most normal part of life in society. The early 1990s were more than 20 years ago, friends, and those were vastly more flourishing times for radicals and moralists, people who would throw AIDS in the face of homosexuals and discriminate immigrants as the source of disorder and economic crisis. By then, the faintest hypocrisy was still not needed and such positions could be voiced far, far more openly then it is possible today. The strength of the reply as voiced in the works selected for this exhibition reflects the vicious forms of hate directed to whoever was elected as the other, the minority.

I strongly recommend this exhibition should you be around NYC until the 23 of May. It´s not like Bowery isn’t a nice place to be, anyways, and the New Museum is absolutely gorgeous and has a wonderful terrace with a great view that should not be missed. Be prepared for bad taste — it’s the early 1990’s after all — and matters you will feel are dated, or treated in a somewhat radical way. When you realize you are entertaining that sentiment, remember why you do it — because they did it that way back then so that you wouldn’t have to a few decades later.

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March 7, 2013

Impressionism, Fashion and Modernity @ the Met

Impressionism, I believe, is probably the most popular and adored of the art movements. When confronted by works created by masters such as Monet, Manet and Renoir, I believe very few do not experiment a sense of awe and amusement. The special exhibition Impressionism, Fashion and Modernity at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, however, subtly lets us into the backstage of the construction of this powerful unanimity that circles impressionist painting, taking us right back to the trenches from which it emerged: the Parisian high society.

When reading about it, at first, I figured the exhibition would just cater to a certain historical curiosity, allowing us to literally immerse ourselves in the fabric of time and materialize the impressions of textures the artists had delivered. What was waiting for me there was instead a very relevant contribution to the comprehension of the Impressionism movement as a integral part of the French society, an art embedded in the small politics of relevance that we may not fail to spot in the art scene of our days, but we might forget was also present even when the works in question hold, as of present, the status of undeniable masterpieces.

The Impressionist movement relates to modern ideals in that it both denies and affirms the perennial by emphasizing the present, the moment; representation is embraced as such and detaches from the contradictory obsessions for both ideal and reality that permeates art in the days of yore. The ephemerous, the impression, gains immense importance, being, in fact, what is truly worthy to be captured. And portraits cease to function as documents meant for posterity that idealize their objects as great warriors, lords or saints and instead become a statement of their personality and uniqueness: enters style as an immense part of this equation.

The first piece of the show is a very fine green and black striped silk-taffeta dress that was worn by Monet’s wife Camille as she modeled for one of his paintings. Through the subtile curatorship, we are led to understand how the fashion in the pictures would attract curiosity and interest as much as it does now in celebrity pictures and Vogue Magazine. It was the majestic dress that has caught the eye of the viewers in the salon where the painting was first exposed.

A painting then was as powerful a status indicator as being invited to shoot an editorial could be, except the concept here was far broader, extending to intellectual and personal wealth implications in a way that being cover of Harpers’ Bazaar never will. The most fashionable ladies, on the other hand, were also and simultaneously the best sources for great composition — that´s when you realize the colors and the textures and the ruffles and laces were all there, were sewn together by someone and worn by someone else that mattered to a picture because they were in possession of them, and not the opposite — and the finest patrons available for an artist, as they used their influence to get the works in which they had modeled into the finest exhibitions and salons, making sure they would grant their portraits the status of great art.

To be immersed in the particularities of real life instead of the usual larger than life feel I get from the Impressionism movement made me actually feel closer to understanding what it was truly about. Somehow, the ego-trips  inspired by Facebook and Instagram today seem a bit less current when we are confronted with this century old brand of vanity, the same look-at-me-being-tremendously-charming-while-I-take-my-gloves-off-and-by-the-way-this-is-art-OK?-not-just-me-showing-off-my-designer-clothes-and-being-pretty sort of thing made possible by such powerful artists. Who can say to which point they truly subscribed to portraying the mundane, even though they did it so remarkably? It is made clear in the exhibition that the likes of Monet and Renoir clearly understood that, on top of the aesthetic revolution they were proposing and of the truth behind their own brand of modernity, there was good fame and money to be made out of reframing the superfluous routines and interests of the upper classes into art.

(all pictures from the internet due to the fact they were — theoretically — not allowed to be taken)

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