Canvas, Cups and other Curios

I hadn’t realised how much I was missing Hamish Fulton until I accidentally stumbled across this… I wasn’t fussed about his work to start off with, but I’m starting to suspect that I’ll develop a fondness for all the artists that find their way into TC. This piece represents a walk up Mont Blanc in 2009. Hamish told us how he liked the way something so small can represent something so enormous. And it worked the other way too, with a huge walk work representing a collection of short, understated walks that he did alone, at night. I never did a write up a proper review about this exhibition, did I? It finished on Monday, so I don’t think I will now. All I’ll say is this: he is a really nice bloke, and he walks really bloody fast.

I hadn’t realised how much I was missing Hamish Fulton until I accidentally stumbled across this… I wasn’t fussed about his work to start off with, but I’m starting to suspect that I’ll develop a fondness for all the artists that find their way into TC.

This piece represents a walk up Mont Blanc in 2009. Hamish told us how he liked the way something so small can represent something so enormous. And it worked the other way too, with a huge walk work representing a collection of short, understated walks that he did alone, at night. I never did a write up a proper review about this exhibition, did I? It finished on Monday, so I don’t think I will now. All I’ll say is this: he is a really nice bloke, and he walks really bloody fast.

(Source: nothing-but-green-lights)

cavetocanvas: Will Barnet, Woman, Cat, and String, 1964 This is me.

cavetocanvas:

Will Barnet, Woman, Cat, and String, 1964

This is me.

Two years after graduating and I’m still making teapots.

Two years after graduating and I’m still making teapots.

Have started work on the sketchbook I’ll be using on holiday. I’m going to try and make it into a proper projecty scrapbook thing.

Have started work on the sketchbook I’ll be using on holiday. I’m going to try and make it into a proper projecty scrapbook thing.

So, I am recovered from my trip, and should be getting ready for work, so what better time to blog? The Hague was pretty cool, from what I saw in my whirlwind trip, but this is an arty blog so I’m focusing on the two galleries I visited; Galerij Prins Willem V (Prince William V Gallery) and Escher in het Paleis (Escher in the Palace).  The Prince William V Gallery is temporarily home to Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring (c. 1667) while it’s usual home, the Mauritshuis, is undergoing renovation. We caught it just in time, because at the end of the month it’s leaving the Hague for a tour of America and Japan. For five euros, getting to see the Vermeer was a bargain - she was gorgeous. I thought that having seen so many reproductions and imitations *cough* Scarlett Johansson *cough* that the painting might not make quite so much of an impact, but it really did. Her skin is amazing, really luminous, and we watched her for ages. If you ever get a chance to see her, do it. However, if you ever get a chance to go to the Prince William V Gallery, after the 29th of this month when she leaves, I would suggest you go elsewhere. The gallery  houses the collection of Prince William himself, and I’m afraid to say his taste lacked somewhat. There were dogs in 80% of the paintings, mainly because he was a keen huntsman. Everything is so very Dutch but alas, not in a good way. There were a few gems, a Franz Hals for example, but by and large, everything was just a bit twee. The second gallery we visited was the Escher museum, which is housed in what was previously a royal palace. It was well worth the money, and I recommend a visit, even if you’re not that fussed about Escher. I wasn’t sure at first, but after getting in for 7.50 euros (1 euros off for ‘Museum Day’ or something) I was blown away - Escher didn’t just defy laws of physics with his insane perspectives, he was an amazing draughtsman/printmaker. His early work (pre-mind warping ideas) was really inspiring. Alongside a collection which claims to contain almost everything M.C. ever created, there are also photographs, furniture and anecdotes dating from when the building was still a palace. On top of that, there are also insane chandeliers designed by Rotterdam artist Hans von Bentem, and parquet floors designed by minimalist sculptor Donald Judd. Unfortunately for you I was using my Diana Mini for photos in this gallery, so you’ll have to wait for me to get it developed before you can see what I saw. A quick Google search should whet your appetite though. The Escher’s were almost overwhelming, there were so many, and after a while you started getting Escher-blindness - I started expecting regular staircases to warp and stopped being able to figure out all the oddities in his drawings. The top floor houses some interactive exhibits, including a video projection which surrounds the viewer with 270 degrees of Escher-esque animations. It made me feel ill! We moved on and found a fun wall painting, whereby you could sit inside a cube that wasn’t really there. Highlight of my day. Photo thanks to Naomi.

So, I am recovered from my trip, and should be getting ready for work, so what better time to blog? The Hague was pretty cool, from what I saw in my whirlwind trip, but this is an arty blog so I’m focusing on the two galleries I visited; Galerij Prins Willem V (Prince William V Gallery) and Escher in het Paleis (Escher in the Palace). 

The Prince William V Gallery is temporarily home to Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring (c. 1667) while it’s usual home, the Mauritshuis, is undergoing renovation. We caught it just in time, because at the end of the month it’s leaving the Hague for a tour of America and Japan.

For five euros, getting to see the Vermeer was a bargain - she was gorgeous. I thought that having seen so many reproductions and imitations *cough* Scarlett Johansson *cough* that the painting might not make quite so much of an impact, but it really did. Her skin is amazing, really luminous, and we watched her for ages. If you ever get a chance to see her, do it.

However, if you ever get a chance to go to the Prince William V Gallery, after the 29th of this month when she leaves, I would suggest you go elsewhere. The gallery  houses the collection of Prince William himself, and I’m afraid to say his taste lacked somewhat. There were dogs in 80% of the paintings, mainly because he was a keen huntsman. Everything is so very Dutch but alas, not in a good way. There were a few gems, a Franz Hals for example, but by and large, everything was just a bit twee.

The second gallery we visited was the Escher museum, which is housed in what was previously a royal palace. It was well worth the money, and I recommend a visit, even if you’re not that fussed about Escher. I wasn’t sure at first, but after getting in for 7.50 euros (1 euros off for ‘Museum Day’ or something) I was blown away - Escher didn’t just defy laws of physics with his insane perspectives, he was an amazing draughtsman/printmaker. His early work (pre-mind warping ideas) was really inspiring.

Alongside a collection which claims to contain almost everything M.C. ever created, there are also photographs, furniture and anecdotes dating from when the building was still a palace. On top of that, there are also insane chandeliers designed by Rotterdam artist Hans von Bentem, and parquet floors designed by minimalist sculptor Donald Judd. Unfortunately for you I was using my Diana Mini for photos in this gallery, so you’ll have to wait for me to get it developed before you can see what I saw. A quick Google search should whet your appetite though.

The Escher’s were almost overwhelming, there were so many, and after a while you started getting Escher-blindness - I started expecting regular staircases to warp and stopped being able to figure out all the oddities in his drawings. The top floor houses some interactive exhibits, including a video projection which surrounds the viewer with 270 degrees of Escher-esque animations. It made me feel ill! We moved on and found a fun wall painting, whereby you could sit inside a cube that wasn’t really there. Highlight of my day. Photo thanks to Naomi.

Escher cube

I have been in The Hague for the past few days, which is my excuse for not posting for the past week or so… Enjoy this view of the Binnenhof (Dutch parliament) until I recover from my massive hangover tiredness from a long coach journey.

I have been in The Hague for the past few days, which is my excuse for not posting for the past week or so… Enjoy this view of the Binnenhof (Dutch parliament) until I recover from my massive hangover tiredness from a long coach journey.

”A mural of where you live, it’s a chance to inspire your neighbours!”

So, Thomas Kinkade has died. I was wondering to myself whether or not I should actually dedicate bandwidth to this man, but then I realised there are people on Tumblr who actually typed the letters ‘R.I.P.’ without irony. I have developed a habit of writing about artists when they die (what better reason do you need?) so here we go: Thomas Kinkade; the Painter of Light Jigsaw Puzzles. Look at that picture. Here, you can see he has cleverly erred from the ‘appeal to all’ attitude in order to gain a foothold on the ‘anglers who like pretty flowers’ market. I don’t care if it looks like what it’s supposed to look like - it’s vile. Colours, flowers, symmetry, those waders… They’re all quite horrible, and even if you know nothing about art, you should be able to realise this. Here’s a quite from Joan Didion which describes things quite nicely: A Kinkade painting was typically rendered in slightly surreal pastels. It typically featured a cottage or a house of such insistent coziness as to seem actually sinister, suggestive of a trap designed to attract Hansel and Gretel. Every window was lit, to lurid effect, as if the interior of the structure might be on fire. Yes, he suits the greeting cards and jigsaw puzzles market pretty well (if you ignore the mysterious fires), and through that alone he could have earnt a tidy penny. But what gets me is the fact that he got greedy enough to have the gall to sell ‘limited editions’ for ridiculous sums of money. We all know full well they’re not going to appreciate in value because it’s all so mass produced. He made $50 million between 1997 and 2005. It’s all just vanity and greed, as is the monstrosity of a film he produced in 2008, Thomas Kinkade’s The Christmas Cottage. Why Peter O’Toole stooped so low, I’ll never know, but this supposed biography looks truly nauseating. Google it. There are trailers for it on YouTube. It has to be seen to be believed. I can say no more.

So, Thomas Kinkade has died. I was wondering to myself whether or not I should actually dedicate bandwidth to this man, but then I realised there are people on Tumblr who actually typed the letters ‘R.I.P.’ without irony. I have developed a habit of writing about artists when they die (what better reason do you need?) so here we go: Thomas Kinkade; the Painter of Light Jigsaw Puzzles.

Look at that picture. Here, you can see he has cleverly erred from the ‘appeal to all’ attitude in order to gain a foothold on the ‘anglers who like pretty flowers’ market. I don’t care if it looks like what it’s supposed to look like - it’s vile. Colours, flowers, symmetry, those waders… They’re all quite horrible, and even if you know nothing about art, you should be able to realise this. Here’s a quite from Joan Didion which describes things quite nicely:

A Kinkade painting was typically rendered in slightly surreal pastels. It typically featured a cottage or a house of such insistent coziness as to seem actually sinister, suggestive of a trap designed to attract Hansel and Gretel. Every window was lit, to lurid effect, as if the interior of the structure might be on fire.

Yes, he suits the greeting cards and jigsaw puzzles market pretty well (if you ignore the mysterious fires), and through that alone he could have earnt a tidy penny. But what gets me is the fact that he got greedy enough to have the gall to sell ‘limited editions’ for ridiculous sums of money. We all know full well they’re not going to appreciate in value because it’s all so mass produced. He made $50 million between 1997 and 2005. It’s all just vanity and greed, as is the monstrosity of a film he produced in 2008, Thomas Kinkade’s The Christmas Cottage. Why Peter O’Toole stooped so low, I’ll never know, but this supposed biography looks truly nauseating. Google it. There are trailers for it on YouTube. It has to be seen to be believed.

I can say no more.