Cats (Rayist percep. in rose, black, and yellow) by Natalia Goncharova (1913, Oil on Canvas, 85.1 x 85.7 cm, Guggenheim Museum, New York).
This is a Rayist (or Rayonist) composition in which the artist tries to capture rays of light reflected off objects in the material world. Dynamic lines are added to suggest crystalline forms and the movement of light and energy. The style was influenced by scientific discoveries on the discovery of X-rays and radioactivity suggesting a reality beyond the direct perception of the naked eye.
Set against a dark blue, almost black surface, a white splotch of paint has been hurled out impulsively, and loses itself in innumerable spots and spatters, a cosmic gesture thrust against the empty void of nothingness – almost a metaphor of the artist’s creative activity. Some spots of colour flare up among this galaxy of creativity, of which the largest and most irregular is the red one which gave the painting its title. Minute symbols are scattered around the edges of the entire constellation – stars of hair and little hooks which give this action painting a new poetic dimension and connect it unmistakably with Miro’s world of symbols.
Following yesterday’s post about the 1926 Irish Census I fell down a metaphorical rabbit hole following a request from a former colleague (who happens to be Jewish) to help find a relative of his who lived in Dublin at the time of the census. I found the person, which was nice, but was then sent this article about an unrelated lady called Estella Solomons who was on the rebel side in the Easter Rising and helped the cause by hiding weapons in her garden. It turns out that there was a significant Jewish presence in Dublin back then. In the North Side, around Portobello, there was an area dubbed ‘Little Jerusalem’.
Estella Solomons was born in 1882 and died in 1968 at the age of 86. She was 34 at the time of the Easter Rising and would have been 44 at the time of the 1926 census. I did find her in the online census but her age is recorded as 40. She married the poet Seumas O’Sullivan in 1926 but she is listed as “single” on the census form, so presumably they married later in the year.
There are two other women at her 1926 address, both servants, so she was obviously quite well off, but no sign of her husband.
More surprisingly Estella’s sex is given in the 1926 census as Male. She is in the 1911 census too, but recorded there as Female. I did consider the possibility that she might have been living as a man, but that does not fit with other details of her life. I think it is just a mistake. Such records are not entirely free from errors.
I think this an example of the sort of confusion historians have to contend with when looking at historical documents!
Cosmis Spring I (Cosmic Spring I) by František Kupka (1913/4, oil on canvas, 115 x 125 cm, National Gallery of Prague).
Adapted from the Gallery catalogue:
František Kupka (1871-1957) wrote in his book Tvoření v umění výtvarném (Creation in Visual Art), that he did not seek to copy nature but sought inspiration in varied shapes of nature such as ice crystals, flower buds, freezing vapour, clouds, airflow, and falling stars. Kupka was fascinated by shape analogies which he found in various levels of microstructures and macrostructures – from microphotographs of cells to astronomical photographs of planets.
I don’t know precisely which picture the poet is referring to for January in his calendar, nor which artist, but it it is undoubtedly an example of a Vanitas or Memento Mori, a genre symbolizing the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death, and thus the vanity of ambition and all worldly desires. The paintings involved still life imagery of items suggessting the transitory nature of life.
A couple of examples are here:
Between them you find all the elements mentioned in the poem: the skull represents death, the flowers impermanence, the coins personal wealth and the other items worldly knowledge and pleasure. There’s an interesting WordPress blog about the symbolism this genre here:
For various reasons I find myself thinking about this little clip from the 2016 film In Bruges, starring Brendan Gleason and Colin Farrell. It’s set in the Groeningemuseum in the city of Bruges.
You can read an interesting post about the art in the film here.
You will see that the only painting that Ray (Colin Farrell) likes is a triptych called The Last Judgment, a version of which coincidentally featured in my post on Monday. The one I posted was by Hieronymous Bosch and is in Vienna; the one in Bruges is of doubtful attribution. It may be by Bosch, but experts think it is more likely to be by members of his workshop.
P.S. If you like black comedies then In Bruges is definitely for you! I wouldn’t say it was really a Christmas movie though…
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In the Dark 