What do YOU want to read about?

My dear readers,

For a few days I will be away from home. While I am in London, faking  genuine interest in the heated debates at a business conference I have to attend, please help me decide what you would like to read in this blog next week. I have ideas about a few options (some will take more time to write, some will be faster) and I would appreciate your help in prioritising them. 

Please spend a second of your time, choose as many options as you like, and bathe in the rays of grace I will be sending your way. I really, truly, honestly will be grateful for your help.

And please do not underestimate the pleasures of pressing a 3D button. Try it. Don’t be shy. Push it in all the way or nudge it tenderly. 

Thank you!

THE DEVIL IS IN THE DETAILS

The original saying was “God is in the details”. Why was it so easy to switch God for Devil?  Perhaps, the answer is that when you start your spiritual journey looking for and poring at details, i.e.magic confirmations and mystic signs, you can end up, easily, in either of the two camps. So, for an atheist it is better not to start the journey at all, because it never ends in the middle ground. It’s either Paradise or Hell, with the latter being a much bigger continent.

But is there a purpose if you live a life devoid of such a journey?

That’s the point that drove some atheist people – considered very successful by today’s standards – over the board.

They decided there was nothing left worth living for and took the dive.

Art world examples: Alexander McQueen, Francis Bacon.

Luckily, most atheist artists carry on until the very end, believing that they can find a purpose if they keep searching for it:

Rafael (Vasari thought him to be an atheist)
Picasso
Matisse
Duchamp

Paradoxically, many people say they feel the religious feeling of grace descending upon them, when they look at the artists’ works. To add insult to injury: I’ve met many atheists who attribute intangible spiritual value to works of art by atheist artists. And they see neither pun nor contradiction in that.  

Many atheist artists become religious by the end of their life.

Cezanne gave up at some point and became a devout Catholic.

Why? Certainly not because he found a proof of God’s existence. Fear of Hell?

Fear of Hell is a strong motivator.

A Russian orthodox priest I happen to know very well, when asked once, “Father, if I am a good man, but an atheist, why would I go to Hell?” replied, “I wish you knew how many good men are being tormented in Hell”, and shook his head ruefully. 

What made me stop was the present continuous tense. There was so much certainty in it, it made me shudder.

That was probably the first time I thought, “MAYBE”.

Certainty can be infectious.

Certainty about the purpose of life is contagious.

The problem with faith is that the moment you start looking for a proof, a sign, a confirmation, or a miracle – you’ve already lost the right track and cartwheeled to the Devil that is in the details (ref: the very first paragraph).

It was in Mexico a few years ago, when I had the second case of “MAYBE”.

Oh, no, it was not due to my seeing Our Lady of Guadalupe (though the legend is awesome, take a minute to read it, really).

It was due to the conflict of civilizations there that you come to understand if you get a good guide (Get a good guide, that’s important!)

For thousands of years the world was split in two parts.

One had different religions, religious wars, plague, leprosy, cataclysms and, hence, steel, gunpowder, deeply stratified society, sophisticated arts, amazing poetry and music.

The other part of the world had regulated wars (Aztecs could start a war with the sole objective of  controlling population), after which the winning side would incorporate the gods of the defeated tribe into their own pantheon. No mass murder, no plague, but also, no steel, no gunpowder, no comparable sophistication in arts. And no fear of death either.

And then the two parts had a nasty reunion, which defined the path our civilization would take from then on.

I say, look at this grand design.

If it was not an experiment on a grand scale set up to see which way is better for the Man, I don’t know what is.

Purely scientific approach.

Were I a god, I’d run it just like that.

Second “MAYBE”.

Now I am waiting for the third one. There’s a saying in Russia, “God loves Trinity” meaning that when something happens for three times it is definitely a Sign.

Did I just say “a sign”?

Oh, no. I didn’t mean it!

**************************************

On a lighter note:

- Why did you divorce you husband?
- We had a different POV on religion.
- ???
- He didn’t believe I was a goddess.

P.S. Thank you, the daily prompt, for inspiration!

PPS Perhaps, I need to mention Van Gogh, who renounced God – as a revenge on his father and his lost romantic love. That didn’t make him an atheist though )

ARTIST OF THE YEAR?

TIME’s “person of the year” was launched in 1927. Since that time the rating has been dominated by male politicians (like, 90% of all the covers), with only 5 women chosen to be the person of the year (and most of them were wives of politicians anyway).

Businessmen, groups of people (like astronauts), and generalised characters (The American Soldier, The Protester or the Whistleblower) were used to add some colour to the bland landscape of presidents, kings, and dictators. Twice the chart was topped by bizarre ideas of The Endangered Earth and the Computer, with the honorifics changed to the Planet and the Machine of the Year, respectively.

Never an artist.

I’ve met a lot of people who BELIVE art is doing something good for the humanity, changes people for the better, influences societies, et cetera.

I’d love to be among these believers, but I really doubt any of the featured politicians, generals, or dictators have even been influenced by art in a way that would make them change their political decisions. And even if they were, the benefits were not obvious. Churchill (Time Person of the Year in 1940 and 1949) and Hitler (POY in 1938) both used to draw and paint.

Yet, as time passes, we realise that Wallis Simpson (POY in 1936), a woman charismatic enough to make the king of England abdicate, was not as important for the future of our civilisation as, say, Picasso’s Guernica painted a few months later.

Perhaps, we simply can’t see art effects in the short term?

Lately, I think Pussy Riot got closest to be the Persons of the Year, as artists. I will justify it, but let me first quote Robert Hughes, an art critic and writer I admire.

“It seems obvious, looking back, that the artists of Weimar Germany and Leninist Russia lived in a much more attenuated landscape of media than ours, and their reward was that they could still believe, in good faith and without bombast, that art could morally influence the world. Today, the idea has largely been dismissed, as it must in a mass media society where art’s principal social role is to be investment capital, or, in the simplest way, bullion. We still have political art, but we have no effective political art. An artist must be famous to be heard, but as he acquires fame, so his work accumulates ‘value’ and becomes, ipso-facto, harmless.”

Pussy Riot have pulled the trick of acquiring instant fame and making their message heard without being corrupted by the art market. They avoided the trap of becoming harmless, but they had to pay for it with 2 years behind bars.

It does not matter that their texts are not poetry. It does not matter that their music is rap wrapped in crap. What matters is that their actions rejuvenated thinking of the role of women, oppressive governments, and about freedom in general – across the globe.

Time will tell if they qualify. Oh, not the magazine, just time. 

PS Again this is one of the thoughts that may have never got typed, were it not for those brilliant people at the WordPress Daily Post who keep thinking up clever daily prompts.

Ambassadors: the secret of the green curtain

This is a long story of passion, art, and diplomacy I’ve been working on for quite some time, and, frankly, planned to keep on working.

Luckily, this week’s Writing Prompt pushed the publishing deadline forward by suggesting an exercise in which a long post must be broken into pages. I couldn’t cut my story short, so I decided to break it into micro chapters for convenience, as well as suspense. You won’t be able to hear the story anywhere else. You have no choice, but to read on.

Analysis of an artwork is as much about knowledge of history, as it is about common sense, with the latter being often overlooked. Poor knowledge of history results in misinterpretation (stupid), a lack of common sense leads to overinterpretation (plain crazy). So, armed with history context and common sense we’ll try to discover and explain the last remaining secrets of The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein, a painting that can be found in any book titled “100 (or 500 or 1000) paintings to see before you die”.

Scholars (give them a deep bow, would you please?) have explained the symbolism of almost everything that the eye can find in this painting. There are so many signs and symbols in there, I fear Dan Brown novelising it into another crime of his against history and English language.

The Ambassadors (1533) by Hans Holbein

Almost everything has been explained. But not all.
What are the elements for which explanation is non-existing or shaky?

1. Find the small crucifix in the upper left corner, right behind the green curtain. Why is it there? Why the green curtain at all? Why not a background more fitting to represent two ambassadors?
2. The big skull at the bottom that is seen as an ugly blot from the front, but becomes a 3d skull if you look at it from a sharp angle. Why not paint a “normal” skull and be done with this “memento mori”?
3. Why on earth did Holbein piled up all those objects? The Marxist critic, John Berger, believed it was done to symbolise wealth and the dawn of a new order of things when, colonies and tradesmen will be generating wealth, not titles. Others believe the portrayed characters wanted to show off their IQ with all this stuff. Who’s right?

Hans Holbein never played with objects unless there was some purpose behind it. So, what was his purpose, his grand design behind this painting – given that he couldn’t use any symbolism that would not have been agreed with the sitters first?

I promise to answer these questions, but first you need to imagine yourself a French envoy on a secret mission.

Click on page 2 (below the like and sharing buttons) to begin your transformation into a 16th century equivalent of James Bond!

Pages: 1 2 3 4

HELPING 15,000 PEOPLE

The Daily Post today is curious about readers’ attitude to help. They ask, “When you’re unwell, do you allow others to take care of you, or do you prefer to soldier on alone?”

I am lucky. I have two amazing sons, who offer me tea when I come home perfectly healthy, but tired. When I am ill, my wife, the lady who helps us cook & clean, my sons, and even my parents (parental consulting over the phone) rush to help. When I am ill, I feel so good I don’t want to get better. Isn’t it a textbook case of domestic happiness?

As you see, there’s not much to discuss about me, but there is a work of art that is rang by the bell of “help” whenever the word appears in the context of being ill.

When Picasso was sixteen, he must have believed artists should provide positive examples to the uneducated masses and immoral aristocrats to change life for the better. Picasso was  an anglophile, was considering London as his dream destination (but went to Paris instead), and used this work of an English painter as inspiration:

The Doctor. Luke Fildes

Picasso copied the idea into his Science and Charity, with his dad posing for the doctor:

Picasso. Science and Charity

One of the critics mocked it, saying the doctor wouldn’t have to take the pulse of a glove were the artist capable of drawing hands properly. That review must have killed Picasso’s interest in providing moral help and guidance by his paintings. Being a rancorous guy, Picasso would remember the critic’s name for decades. Let’s admit the obvious, the hand of the ill woman does look like a glove. The problem with realistic paintings is that once there’s a tiny element you don’t trust, the whole work gets discredited.

Yet, Picasso managed to really help a lot of people in a very unusual way.

Guernica, Pablo Picasso

In 1938 Picasso’s Guernica was exhibited at Whitechapel gallery in London. The entrance fee was a pair of boots. The exhibition was visited by 15 000 people, and all the “entrance tickets” were sent as aid to Spanish republicans.

P.S. When Picasso was first exhibited in London in 1908, he was doused dripping wet with cold ridicule and humiliating sneers. It washed out the last strands of the anglophilic virus he caught as a teenager. When it comes to coldness, raised brows and poker faces, the English have always been champions, right?

The Origin of Modern Dance

There were ten children in a poor family who had to share a single chamber pot.
That’s how Step Dance was born.

Ancient Egyptian art.

What comes to mind?

• Pyramids
• Nefertiti
• Reliefs showing pharaohs, gods with beastly heads, and a crowd of smaller people representing lesser nobles or slaves, all walking in a funny way
• The Bangles’ hit of the 80s, “Walk like an Egyptian”.

Did you know that the song was added as a joke to their album? And then the song walked away with a pyramid of prizes. Fate does have a sense of humour.

So, get prepared for a surprise.

There is a museum in Oxford with a strange name, Ashmolean (it got its name from the original donator, Elias Ashmole – and I wonder what nicknames he might have had when he was a kid).

Among Egyptian treasures at the Ashmolean, there’s a stele that defies all the previous knowledge about Egyptians.

Yes, it is a dance. Egyptian clubbing before night clubs were invented.

The dance does look like the electrocuted body-shaking we see today. The girls seem to be snapping their fingers while jiggling their slender bodies, and the girl on the right (in the pic below) is obviously smiling in a very inviting way. And – oh, my – look at their dresses! Chanel didn’t invent a small black dress. She just painted the white one black, and simplified it by adding a skirt.

Now we see boys who come to the girls with an obvious intention of offering them “The Pride of Pharaoh” cocktail:

But the girls don’t care about the cocktails. They just want to dance. Boys! Why are you so darn boring? Is it the bane of boys to be boring observers (well, not all, of course, but most)?

A great artist of the 20th century, upon visiting a cage with prehistoric drawings of animals, said we hadn’t learned anything new in visual arts since those dark hunter-gatherer times.

As you see, this holds true even for the art of dance. Did you dance this weekend? Did you jiggle, wiggle, shake or sway? Well, when you do it next time, think about the stele, and try to include some of the movements from Ancient Egypt. Don’t be afraid to call the spirit of Anubis. Be wary of not hitting someone on the dance floor when you attempt copying the movement from the top picture. Yes, the one done with a straight leg.

THE ONLY LIFE YOU EVER GONNA GET

LIFE IN ART HISTORY. When artists want to show life, they usually opt for cheerful and joyful images of it. In those rare cases when they don’t or can afford not to care about selling their work to a wealthy individual, they introduce someone who is very old or just show death in their picture. The fact that people of different ages look at life differently was common knowledge even at the time when the shrink profession was not even in the making.

The theme of different ages, normally split in three stages, has been present in art in the last 500 years, and each century and art school looked into this well of joy and sorrow with varying success.

Here are the milestones.

c.500 years ago

Three ages of man by Giorgione (he also established the reclining nude theme)

This painting is also called Reading a Song. Whatever it is they are reading the message is clear: the boy has to learn, the middle-aged man knows what and why is important, and the old man looks at us as if saying, “What a waste of time that was! Out of everything I’ve learnt, I was in need of less than one percent!”

Giorgione, c.1500, The Three Ages, Palazzo Pitti in Florence

Around the same time, another artist, from Germany, got concerned about the same topic, specifically about the way it related to women.

Three Ages of Woman and Death 1510 by Hans Baldung,

Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

The figures are somewhat shifted to the left, like furniture in a room in which one wall is being painted, implying that this is only a part of a larger work, so we won’t be talking about the overall layout here. But look at the details, and think about

• Who is doing what
• Who is seeing whom

OK, if you don’t feel like thinking right now, let me take your hand and walk you through.

The small girl plays in the garden, and there’s a fresh apple on the grass (referring to the sin that made us mortal but also the freshness of youth – not forgetting of course that as soon as a fresh apple falls off its mother tree, it starts dying). The girl doesn’t see the Death figure.

The young woman looks at her reflection in the mirror. She’s most concerned about her looks, so she notices neither the small girl, not the older woman or Death.

The older woman can see Death, and tries to take its hand away from the unaware young woman, but this is – obviously – a futile attempt.

Some thirty years later the same artist produced another version of this work, strangely enough called The Ages of Man and Death.

The Ages of Man and Death, c 1540, by Hans Baldung, Prado Museum

This painting is much more expressive, but in a different way. Again we have to look into the details. The child is asleep and unaware of the Salvation (represented by a crucifixion in the skies) or Hell (that’s the action shown in the background). The child is, in a way, innocent, though already mortal. Its sleep is a metaphor for the eventual death, just like the one that used an apple 30 years before that.

Detail: Hell

Detail: Salvation

Death leads the old woman by the arm to the right (Yes, ladies, Hell is what Hans envisioned for you. He left you with some hope in the sky though, but you really have to strain your eyes to see it).

What I find thrilling about the painting is this fragment:

The young woman is seeing off her older self, walking away with Death, to death. She is still young, but she weeps, knowing her youth will end, and will be followed by death. She knows the general set-up, but she can’t see it in detail – and indeed the young woman is not looking at her older self.

The old woman doesn’t weep as much, while leaving her younger self to “keep calm and carry on”. There’s a tear in the corner of her eye, but those eyes have wept out all the tears long before she accepted her fate. If the young woman is in grief about the frightening inevitability of death, the old woman (who is about to die) feels not grief, but sorrow for those who’d still live. Note that she can remember the details of her own youth – and that’s why she sees her younger self.

Psychologically, this is one of the most profound paintings of the German Renaissance, which hasn’t lost its relevance in almost 500 years.

Now, let’s jump 400 years to the year when the next big thing happened to the three-age-concept.

Paul Gauguin. 1897-1898. One of the longest names for a painting: Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?

Read it right to left. There are a lot of symbols representing a lot of ideas, but you know what? I don’t think that a guy who committed a few unsuccessful suicides and had an obsession of screwing virgins can give me insights about the meaning of life. He was a brilliant painter, very talented, with interesting insights about life in Europe and Tahiti that he showed in his paintings, but life and death issues? From him? Seriously?

Paul Gauguin. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

I am not saying this is not a great painting. The way the palette changes from right to left, the calculated turn of the head of each woman, the rhythm with which the viewer’s eye travels through it because the artist calculated the branches, the stripes of changing colour – it is a brilliant painting.

This painting influenced a lot of artists and a lot of thinking. It sort of showed the art world that visual artists can use new styles and techniques to keep talking and even say something new about life and death.

The more symbolic representation of the theme did not have to wait long. In less than 10 years, we’ve got The Three Ages of Woman by Gustav Klimt (1905).

Why I don’t like this painting. This is not true that at the ripe old age, women always get separated from happiness, are disconnected from life and its joys. This is a male chauvinist point of view. Old age is not equal to desolate despair. It often is, but not always. The genius of Klimt makes such an outcome convincingly inevitable. So, it is a great painting of a point of view I don’t want to support.

And, what’s and who’s left? Oh. Salvator Dali. 1940.

Three ages of man.

A painting calculated mathematically to create the impression that there’s some revelation coded in it. Brilliant marketing: people love talking about life and death, give them something new to talk about, introduce external influences (woman of varying age), materials (mid-age made of stone, old age made of wood, etc.), wrap it all up in a way that the eye loves to explore it – bang!

Again, a brilliant painting, in terms of skill, but without ideas that wouldn’t be expressed and discussed before. If Dali was best at anything, it was wrapping it all up in exciting gift paper.

Call to action:

If you know of an interesting work on the three-age topic of a contemporary artist, let me know!

If you want to say you don’t agree with me, say it! I’d love to hear what you think.

Thank you, Daily Prompt for inspiration!