Ming vases…

Wednesday, January 19th, 2011

Wen Zhengming painting

Philosopher by a Waterfall by Wen Zhengming

Even in childhood I was baffled as to why oil paintings sold in auction houses for countless millions, while equally exquisite works of art from other cultures seemed lucky if they fetched thousands. One exception is the ubiquitous ‘Ming vase’… examples of which appear in everything from Tin Tin to baroque palaces across Europe. Another is ancient artefacts, though these again seem to be valued less for their aesthetic qualities than for how close they fall to the traditionally accepted path of ancestry of Western culture.

Surely, what this is all about is some kind of bigotry… There are schools of painting in China, for example, that are as sophisticated, as accomplished, as those in Europe, and yet – though most will have heard of Van Gogh or Rembrandt – who among us can name any Chinese painters?

The strange anomaly of the Ming vase perhaps only helps to further make this point. Chinese porcelain as an object of admiration and desire dates from a time when Europe was somewhat in awe of China – and it seems to me that human beings, when they respect others – and nothing breeds respect quite like perceiving that the other appears to be rich and successful – that they also respect their art; what is art after all but an incarnation of a people’s soul…?

Well it seems that as the ‘developing’ world becomes richer, people there become interested in reclaiming their heritage. Nothing draws attention to something quite as much as someone paying a lot of money for it. No doubt Western art critics will now begin to ‘discover’ this other art and their reappraisal will see it slowly raised to a comparable status with Western art.

About time is what I say!

(I have made a resonant point about ‘manners’ in an earlier post.)

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sunflower seeds…

Sunday, October 31st, 2010
Ai Weiwei's sunflower seeds...

Ai Weiwei's sunflower seeds at the Tate Modern...

(postscript Just heard that Ai Weiwei has been arrested… news article here)

Ai Weiwei’s Sunflower Seeds is currently showing at Tate Modern. A Chinese artist who has suffered severely for being politically outspoken, and who was the artistic consultant on the glorious Bird’s Nest Stadium at the recent Olympic Games, Ai Weiwei has produced a work that says much about China today and in the past. Consisting of 100 million sunflower seeds handmade from porcelain, fired at a high temperature, handpainted, then fired again. According to him:

“Seeds are a household object in China and a revolutionary symbol at the same time”

Conceptually (I’ve not actually seen it), I read in it several layers of meaning.

Porcelain, an industrial and artistic product with which China supplied the rest of the world, links China’s past with today when she has become the workshop of the world.

I am reminded of the Terracotta Army – another example of Chinese labour being lavished to produce something beyond the capacity of almost any other people (excepting perhaps the ancient Egyptians). These are at the same time displays of what humans can achieve if bent to a single goal, but also the dehumanization involved: when we look at the Terracotta Army we are thinking of the brilliant but megalomaniacal First Emperor. Similarly with another of his megaworks – the Great Wall. With the rise of Mao, once again it is an individual who looks out at us, while his people, identical and beneath notice, lie beneath his feet.

However, my first reaction to Sunflower Seeds was one of recognition. I saw in my mind’s eye the beach of turquoise and jade pebbles each exquisitely carved (like netsuke) that appears in The Chosen. Here too I was making a point about how the grandeur of a vast concentration of human labour, however beautiful, reflects the gulf between those who rule and those who are forced to bear the intolerable weight of that rule…

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the vanishing thickness of books…

Thursday, October 21st, 2010
fat book, thin book...

fat book, thin book...

[update: been meaning to put a link to this Robert McCrumb article in the Guardian that seems to agree with my thoughts in this post...]

A few days ago I discovered that the book I’m currently working on (working title: Matryoshka) is not in fact a novel, but rather a novella. Initially I was rather dismayed. After some investigation I realized that of course it was a novella – not only because it is going to be less than the 50000 words that (apparently) marks the boundary between novella and novel, but because it is a novella – look at this definition from mantex.co.uk:

The essence of a novella is that it has a concentrated unity of purpose and design. That is, character, incident, theme, and language are all focussed on contributing to a single issue which will be of a serious nature and universal significance.

What I am working on fits this description pretty snugly. Of course, this should not have been that much of a revelation since I’ve recently been rather fixated by… well… novellas, d’oh!

The reason I was dismayed is because it seems that mainstream publishers don’t much like publishing novellas. Once upon a time they did (The Time Machine, Death in Venice, Heart of Darkness) but in these more commercially-fixated times, they don’t. This seems to be because there are minimal costs associated with publishing any book and so a novella probably has to be charged at the same rate… Someone picking up two books that are almost the same price, but one is sliver-thin, and the other thick enough to prop a door open (a joke made to me often about my own books – and a not unreasonable point – after all a student riot should be able to see off even the best armed police with a few volleys of my books *grin*).

An aspect of ‘physicality’ is that it finds a different, perhaps more instinctive, way into our brains. For example, when I see a time such as 2:36pm on a digital display I always think – oh, that’s only 20 minutes away – so it is really 3pm and there’s no point in starting anything new (this mostly happens when I’m working……). However, if I see the same time displayed on a clock face, it suddenly looks much more like half an hour before 3 and that’s plenty of time to do something. 2:36 is a virtual form of the time, and we can easily play games with virtual things. A clock face is like looking at a sliced up cake – and the size of a wedge of cake is not something I for one ever make mistakes about!

Anyway, my core point is that once books move into a virtual form on an ebook – then their thickness will vanish into abstraction. Of course the number of pages will still be displayed for a book – but this is just one number versus another – not something you can ‘feel’… and this on a plethora of devices with different numbers of pixels, where the font size can be modified according to the preferences of the reader – all of which will change the number of pages that any book will span in the device… It seems to me likely that other aspects of the book will come to dominate the mind of the reader.

It seems to me that we are on the verge of a renaissance in shortforms. We are all so busy these days and there is so much out there to tempt us and to consume, that naturally people are gravitating to art that can be quickly and intensely enjoyed. Though I’m sure there will always be time for more leisurely pleasures, as with the ‘album’ in music – an artistic form dictated by the capacity of a standard vinyl disk – once freed of physical constraints, an artistic ‘object’ can find its own natural size and form. For me such a day of liberation cannot come soon enough…

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orange and teal…

Thursday, July 15th, 2010

from Transformers 2...

from Transformers 2...

A friend sent me this. I had noticed this kind of thing happening, but had, rather quaintly, put it down to something to do with ‘film stock’, or the use of digital video…

Beyond what Todd Miro says, what occurs to me is that this is yet another example of ‘virtualisation’… Before the advent of digital technology, filmmakers were forced to ‘push’ against the media they were working in… as artists in other media had to wrestle with the limitations of oil paint (here is an example of virtualization in this area), violins, typewriters etc… As the digital tsunami washes over ever more of our cultural world, there are no longer any limits except those imposed by the artist. On one side this could be seen as freedom; on the other, it could, as in this example, open the floodgates to homogenizing ‘fashion’…

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