Dada is so foxtrot ashtray boolelsj

This is it, you guys… the very last installment of the Shock of the New.
(cry, sob, whine.)
I know; I’m upset too.
Come join us for one last hurrah!  This Saturday, April 7th, we’ll be showing the "The New Shock of the New" followed by speaker Jim Kleug, followed by a mourning session when we all bid a fond farewell to our beloved Shock of the New project.  I assume you will all be inconsolable, but just remember the fun times we’ve shared; we’ll always have the memories.

Here’s one last vocab word of the week to leave you with:

Da•da noun \ˈdä-(ˌ)dä\
: a movement in art and literature based on deliberate irrationality and negation of traditional artistic values; also : the art and literature produced by this movement

Dada spread through all forms of art, including the visual arts, literature, and performance art. 

Beginning during World War I, Dadaist created ridiculous works of art to mock the ridiculousness of war, as well as the ridiculousness of the modern world.  They were basically anti-everything: anti-war, anti-art, anti-bourgeois.  They were, however, pro-awesome.

Hugo Ball founded a nightclub in Switzerland called the Cabaret Voltaire in 1916.  Here, Dadaists could experiment and perform, which basically meant they could do whatever they wanted.  In one performance, Hugo Ball read his poem “Karawane,” which is a poem made up of entirely nonsense words.  He dressed up in a bizarre, tube-like costume, rendering his body useless.  He had to be carried on and off stage.

And here is the poem he read:

Beautiful.

Another wonderful example of Dada is, of course, Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain.”
Marcel Duchamp submitted a urinal signed “R. Mutt” to the exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists in 1917.  The piece was titled “Fountain.”  Although the rules stated that all submissions would be accepted, “Fountain” was rejected and declared “not art.”  Today, it is called the most influential artwork of the 20th century.

A urinal in a restroom is just a urinal, but a urinal in a museum exhibit… does it become a sculpture?  Is it a work of art because Duchamp says it is a work of art?  Art would never be the same again.
A urinal revolutionized the world of art.

Mandorla: Nutty treat, or angelic aura?

Hey!  What are you doing this Saturday?

Sleeping?

Nah, how about you go to this week’s Shock of the New screening, “The Future that Was,” at 11a.m. at the Zinema 2!  We’ve got Fahti Benzer, professor at UMD, speaking after the show.  So come on down March 31st to have fun and get cultured, all for free.

Ready for the vocab word of the week? Me too! Let’s go!

man•dor•la noun \ˈmändōrˌlä\
Also called: vesica  (in painting, sculpture, etc) an almond-shaped area of light, usually surrounding the resurrected Christ or the Virgin at the Assumption

Mandorla in Italian translates literally as “almond.”  You can’t make delicious nutty cookies with it, though.  When two circles overlap, an almond shape forms in the middle (think Venn diagram).  This overlapping symbolizes the meshing of Heaven and Earth.  The Mandorla was used mainly in early Christian art, and also Buddhist art to reference this unification of opposite forces.

The very first mandorla to be used in Christian art appears around figures of the Old Testament in the mosaics from Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome.  The scene shows Abraham entertaining the Three Strangers who are, unbeknownst to Abraham, actually angels.

 

It looks a little archaic, but that mandorla sure is giving off some angelic vibes.

Another great example comes from the Monastery of Chora in Istanbul.  In the apse of the arekklesion (or funerary chapel will suffice, if you, like I, cannot pronounce that) is a fresco showing a scene of the traditional Byzantine Anastasis (the Resurrection of Christ).  It shows Jesus lookin’ pretty darn good, and not even a little bit dead.

 

He looks way more majestic with that white light emanating from him.

A Fingerprint and a Doorknob

Hello all!  We hope you're getting excited for the first showing of "Shock of the New" THIS SATURDAY, January 11!  The showing will be at 11am at the Zinema, followed by a discussion by the curator at the Tweed Museum of Art, Peter Spooner.  The topic of this week's installment is The Mechanical Paradise.  This episode shows how the development of technology influenced art between 1880 and end of WWI.  A longer synopsis can be found on the BBC's website.

Now for the fun stuff, our vocab word of the week!

prov·e·nance \ˈpräv-nən(t)s, ˈprä-və-ˌnän(t)s\ : The history of ownership of a valued object or work of art or literature.  French provenir, "to come from".

You can imagine how important this is when acquiring works at a museum.  By having the sufficient provenance of a piece you can make sure that the painting wasn't stolen and you can gather the actual worth of a painting based on its history.  An example of a very long and old provenance of a work is The Arnolfini Protrait by Jan van Eyck (see left).  The documented history of this piece dates back to 1434!  It's hard to believe this piece was purchased for a mere £600! ($950).  If you read through the entire provenance, you can see how the piece evolved over time; i.e. it used to have shutters and an original frame.

This painting is well recognized around the world because it is the only surviving panel from 15th-century northern Europe that specifically shows contemporary people interacting in a contemporary house.  It's also pretty baller that the literal translation of the artist's signature is "Jan van Eyck was here".  The signature of the artist in this case has been used in the literal interpretation that the artist was there; this meaning that he witnessed an event rather than only creating the work.  What did he witness?  A wedding?  A lawful transference of legal power to the gentleman's wife?  There has been a lengthy argument amongst art historians on the meaning behind this work, and unfortunately the provenance can only tell us so much!  We're not going to get into that now, but a nice little diddy on this painting can be found here. 

Speaking of a work of art getting stolen, we're now going to talk about one of the greatest art heists of all time...THE STEALING OF THE MONA LISA!  DUN DUN DUN.  Did you know that one of the first prime suspects in the pilfering of the Mona Lisa was none other than Pablo Picasso?!  Four years prior to the Mona Lisa heist he had been found with stone-heads that, unbeknownst to him, had been stolen from the Louvre.  Now, if Pablo's mother had heard she probably would have lectured him on the importance of provenance before buying art from a 'guy who knows a guy'.

Fun fact, his work titled Demoiselles d’Avignon was modeled after these stolen objects (see right).

Empty Space Unoccupied by Mona Lisa

Long story short, Pablo didn't steal the Mona Lisa.  A previous employee of the Louvre, Vincenzo Peruggia, who was Italian by birth thought that the work by Da Vinci belonged  in it's mother country, Italy.  Peruggia was found out whilst trying to 'return the painting to Italy' for a 'small fee' from a shopkeeper whose store a few streets away from where the Mona Lisa was originally painted.

Why did we name this post 'A Fingerprint and a Doorknob' you may ask?  The only piece of evidence linking Peruggia to the crime was a doorknob he had removed from the door to get out of the Louvre and tossed in the ditch, and one fingerprint that was left on the wall where the Mona Lisa had hung.  Why didn't this link him to the crime earlier?  The detective on the case had the fingerprints of all the past and present employees of the Louvre.  The fingerprint that had been on the wall was from Peruggia's left hand, and what the detective had on file were  right handed prints.  ZING!  That's a 'face-palm' moment if I've ever heard one.

Did the heist of the Mona Lisa add to it's historical worth?  We sure think so!  If not, at least it's an interesting story.  If you're curious about the details of the stealing of the Mona Lisa a good book to read is The Crimes of Paris: A True Story of Murder, Theft, and Detection, by Dorothy and Thomas Hoobler.  You can read an excerpt from the book here.

Hello, impasto!

Hello art world!  This is the Duluth Art Institute speaking (and/or it's Development-Operations Manager, Laura).  Well, if you haven't heard we will soon be starting screenings of Robert Hughes' "Shock of the New", which is a fantastic eight-part series on the rise and fall of the modern art movement.  Not only will you be able to rest your eyes on the handsome and talented Robert Hughes, but you will be able to do it FO FREE!  That's right, we're partnering with the Zinema 2 in downtown Duluth to share these nuggets of educational fun at no cost to you, the viewers.  If you need a convenient reminder here's the event on our Facebook page! (Insert social media marketing tactic): facebook.com/events/ShockoftheNew

This brings us onto the purpose of this blog: sharing the awesomeness that is Robert Hughes.  A few weeks back you may remember us sharing with you "Ryan Gosling, museum lover" on Facebook.  However, if you do not remember here is the link: museumheygirl.tumblr.com

Now, this got our creative juices flowing.  It started as a fun Photoshop project to make our coworkers giggle but soon grew into an obsession that took over an entire afternoon.  We can't stop.  So, to turn our seemingly unproductive project into something useful we're using it to promote our "Shock of the New" series in blog form!  Every week before our showing of "Shock of the New" a new post will be made with a picture that we had a blast creating along with some fun tidbits about our sultry host and some clarification on the fancy jargon he's using.

This week our photo is brought to you from the painter Sylvia Shap and can be found in the Smithsonian Institute National Portrait Gallery.  Sylvia Shap creates portraits of interesting people, and who better than our Aussie friend, Robert Hughes?  Her technical skill as a realist-portraiture painter not only accurately depicts the physical aspects of her subjects, but reveals something about their inner-being and personality.  Doesn't this portrait just ooze Robert's insightful-suaveness?

Now, some of you might not know what impasto means; hopefully not because you fell asleep in your Art History course during your undergrad.  Anywho, here is the Merriam-Webster definition:

impasto: im·pas·tos

1 : the thick application of a pigment to a canvas or panel in painting; also : the body of pigment so applied

2 : raised decoration on ceramic ware usually of slip or enamel

In layman's terms it means the way an artist applies the paint to their canvas.  Every artist does this differently; it's an easy way to distinguish who painted what!

EXAMPLES:  

Wheat Field with Cypresses: Vincent Van Gogh

This is an easy-peasy example.  It's simple to distinguish a Van Gogh painting given the way the painting almost feels like its MOVING.  This movement is created because Van Gogh applied his paint with thick, continuous strokes.

A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte : Georges Pierre Seurat

Now here is what our dear friend, Robert, was referencing this week.  Can you see the difference in how Seurat applies his strokes?  It's much more delicate and soft compared to the robust application of Van Gogh; not unlike a lady that Robert might be seducing. 

Fun Fact:  This painting was used as inspiration for a promotional poster for the current season of "The Office".

Was also was used at one point for "The Simpsons":

Isn't art fun?  

Alright kiddies, that's enough for now.  

Until next week!

Oh yea, if you have comments, questions, or a nifty picture of Robert Hughes that you'd like to share leave us a comment!  Or email us at getart@duluthartinstitute.org.