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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manners…

Saturday, January 8th, 2011
Moctezuma meets Cortez

Moctezuma meets Cortez © 1922 Keith Henderson

When Cortez first met Moctezuma, the emperor of the Aztecs advanced towards him half-carried by a couple of his relatives, as if he were some fragile invalid. This affectation was one that Moctezuma could allow himself, lord as he was of the conquerors of Central America that, to its inhabitants, was the navel of the Earth and the greater and best part of the world. No doubt this kind of posturing was copied by lesser lords who aspired to the power and sophistication of their masters.

Wealthy Chinese grew their finger nails to such lengths that they had to protect them with jewelled sheaths. Such elevated personages were thus rendered incapable of even dressing themselves. This of course was the point – for it showed that they were above the need to use their hands for anything practical. Indeed, in China, it was long a tradition that men of august rank should become increasingly effeminate as a consequence and sign of their refinement. Even Mao, a son of peasants, cultivated this tradition.

There are countless other examples of elites becoming ever more mannered – imagine the courts of France, with their bouffant white powdered wigs, their extravagant lace cuffs, their beribboned shoes, their rouged cheeks and beauty spots. What I find interesting is that these affectations are only sustainable as long as the society that contains them is a dominant one. The moment that it ceases to be so, the once admired and copied manners become if anything an object of contempt and even mockery. The warrior who is feared can be a lover of men – the Spartans, the samurai – but once he is defeated, such habits become despised. If the Japanese had won the Second World War, perhaps their men would be less likely to wear Western suits. If China begins to dominate the 21st century, it seems to me likely that it will be their manners that the rest of the world will emulate, not those of the Americans. So it is that we have perhaps not come as far from aping the alpha male as we might like to think we have…

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force majeur…

Wednesday, December 1st, 2010

my car dug out from the snow...

Snow has fallen heavily along the coast of the British Isles – 60cm, perhaps. With our maritime climate, this kind of weather is unusual enough that it has never been worthwhile investing vast resources in proofing our infrastructure against it: but common enough that when it happens it brings chaos. From the midst of this chaos rises the usual outcry: why can’t they do something about it? The same voices would be the first to complain of the waste if resources were squandered preparing the whole country for these few days of snow… It is really MOST tedious…

Of course, I can sit quietly at home enjoying the beauty that the skies have gifted us. Easy for me, you might say, because you don’t need to go out. That’s true. But then I wonder how many of us do… This frantic need to ‘get into work’ seems to me indicative of our hubris. The way that we insist that our routines must continue come what may. That the human ‘virtuality’ must trundle on irrespective of what is going on in the world. It is this kind of thinking that may well be leading us into the self-made disaster of global warming… It’s not as if we work all the time. We take time off. But those days of holiday are mandated by us. Perish the thought that we should have time off imposed on us by the climate, by the planet.

It seems to me that it’s about time that we started going more with the ‘flow of things’. Our climate deploys energy at levels that still dwarf those that we control. Yet, like the gods we feel ourselves to be (want to be!), we constantly set ourselves against these forces. This does not strike me as being wise…

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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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perfume of rotting mouse…

Monday, October 18th, 2010

cheese mouse © chris-alexander.co.uk

cheese mouse © chris-alexander.co.uk

Every year we have had mice coming into out house presumably to find a place to hibernate. We would be perfectly happy to let them do so if they didn’t insist on scurrying around in the walls and invading our kitchen. Then there is the danger that they will chew through electrical cables and start a fire. They already gnawed through a water pipe and caused a flood. So, eventually, we put down poison.

Now, every year, the mice come into the house and they die… in the house… and, of course, not in any part of the house we can reach. As a consequence, we had to endure the stench of rotting mouse. The first two years this happened it upset me a lot – the stench is an unwelcome presence (only in a utility room and the bathroom… “only”!??!) and takes time to fade…

However, this year, somewhat less hysterical about the whole thing, I decided to just accept the stench in good grace. Strangely, as it has changed (analogously in my mind with the change in flavour that results from my new habit of drinking successive infusions of green tea – throwing away the 1st, drinking the 2nd through to 4th or 5th) it has evolved into a scent that now walks the edge between unpleasant and interesting. Am I becoming a connoisseur of the scent of decay?

And why should such a concept be ridiculous? Consider how many people – especially in the West – aquire an enjoyment, passion even, for the odour and even taste of rotting milk – ie. the more extreme cheeses…

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