Gauguin, blue dreams

 

         Blue Trees, 1888, Ordrupgaard Collection, Denmark.

I have had this on my desktop for a while now and it seems to always pull my eyes over to it. I don't really have much to say about it except that I'm just in awe of his sense of colour.  

Remarkably, one might think upon seeing it, that it was from Martinique or Tahiti, but curiously its's from the small time when lived with Vincent in Arles in 1888. 

Unlike Van Gogh who needed a 'motif' in front of him to kick off his vibrant imagination, Gauguin infamously worked almost entirely from his imagination. 

These different ways of painting reveal something about their connection but also their strong differences. They were almost like two opposing sides of an AA battery, one so positive while the other so negative.

Gauguin 'invented' this landscape while painting next Van Gogh in Arles. The small figures near the foreground are Breton. Was it an homage to a place that got him into this 'Painting Racket' in the first place? Or souvenir painted out due to homesickness? Either way, like the Instagram Influencers of today, both painters were motivators for each other's work during this period together. 

Even their colours during this period seemed to accentuate each of their palettes in a similar fashion. Their Chrome Yellows and deep Ultramarines appears to clash like ancient warriors upon their canvas's. And as we know from their correspondence afterward, their particular personalities also crashed into one another almost daily. 

But, in this picture of the 'Blue Trees' above, I personally marvel at the pictorial intelligence in it, of its colour and its drawing and invention. It has mysterious and abstract hold over me as I wander about around its surface. It's an endless lesson for painters of any moment, anytime.  

Art, a wall or a window?

Anyone who reads this Blog would understand that I absolutely despise Graffiti but being human I can also make grand dictums replete with caveats. 

Generally, I will give a pass to Banksy, but a few other artists too,  who have something artistically interesting to express. For me, Art in all its forms, is a window not a wall, something transcendent not myopic.

Most graffiti is self-indulgent and juvenile, narcissist, and basically just a visual nuisance for the rest of us. And most murals are usually pretty dreadful too. Where I live in Australia, I would bet a million dollars that there are more blue jumbo dolphins splashing about on buildings than anywhere else in the world.

Et portent, and yet..., this enormous mural caught my eye and surprised me with great pleasure, even causing me consternation. I wish I could remember who is the  artist and where it is located, my apologies.

It's not that I even like its drawing or colour harmony but there is something in its 'colourful design' that I find so well unified, puzzling and audacious, so much so, that I actually really like it. It has a vaguely figurative aspect to it as if it's maybe channeling Salvador Dali? But as a critical matter, is any good? Does it succeed? 

Because giant wall murals are in a class of their own, I personally don't really have the critical wherewithal to judge them as artwork. That may sound like a lame way of fobbing off the important question, but hey! I'm only human. I can only judge it by the same criteria that I use everywhere else in my peregrinations around the world. 

It is a public work, and ultimately it must also be judged with an acutely critical eye, like for everything else in this realm of aesthetics. And yet I still myself suddenly feeling a little self-conscious in this world. This is the world of the delightful and surprising jumbo-polished steel blob by Anish Kapoor, that occupies an large open space in Chicago. But it's also part of the muscular and (sometimes almost fascist) work of Richerd Serra. Hmmmm. But too, an unlikely hero in the world of Public Art is Jeff Koons, who created several versions of the oversized 'Puppy', made of flora and flowers, a piece that brings universal joy to almost everyone.  

So regarding this ten or twelve story high mural, I have no irrational way to explain why it does bring me such puzzled joy. But hey! We all need lots of joy today, puzzled or otherwise.

But I like to imagine myself stumbling upon this gigantic wall in an open space somewhere downtown somewhere, and I believe it would be as surprising as finding a field of red poppies growing out of one's own bathtub.

For myself, it's a rare thing to be pleasantly surprised in this contemporary life, urban ironic, or otherwise.  

 

something different, a changing guard

It's rare but not uncommon that states in America re-design their flags to update their image, but Maine has done just that. They have selected a new design out of more than 400 submissions.

The winning flag design came from Adam Lemire, an architect from Gardiner, a town of roughly 6,000 residents in Kennebec County. His minimalist design shows an eastern white pine and a blue North Star against an off-white background.

I really love the way older institutions can sometimes re-invent themselves with an artistically appropriate design. Maine had the wherewithal to re-imagine itself as a new and different place. Out the window goes an old, staid, and conventional design, in comes something modern, both clear and striking. Nice!

Now, if each generation could ditch their older  ways of thinking and doing things by up-dating their ideas, it would be an even more perfect world.

                2024
 

                             old as the hills

OLYMPIX 2024, Honour and dishonour

 

         The Spanish Artistic Swimming Team 2024

Being laid up with the flu really stinks but it also had an upside advantage, one that kept me stuck at home with a foggy mind. It was an awful strain of the flu which kept coughing and pinned to the sofa for two weeks straight. But what a fabulous two weeks to be holed up at home! It was the perfect space for my ditzy brain to zoom into the Paris Olympics 2024.

As anyone who saw it will agree, it was wonderful all around, according to an article from Paris. "This changed us, and it's one big party!" said a certain Mme Castelle. "The Parisians who left town will regret it to the end of their days!" her friend Ms Benata, adding, "The key was all the people, not just the French but everyone all mixed up together like a blending", as recounted by a pair of older Parisian women catching their breath on a bench near the Seine.

Well, I don't know, but it looked great on screen as I laid up immobile like The English Patient, though without Juliette Binoche, alas.

 

       'Zee French Space Gals', of course!

Swimming, in every form was a wonderful watch in the new Aquatic Center at Le Bourget, the only new venue built for the Olympics Games. Designed by a hardy Dutchman, Tom Venhoeven, to be energy efficient and environmentally friendly. It used less concrete and more wood in its design construction to great aesthetic success. With a solar farm on its roof it renders an almost 100% energy efficiency for the building in both summer and winter. The 5000 seats were made from plastic bottle caps collected by school children all over the French Hexagon. Impressive! Zeese French set a high bar for the Games and zey actually pulled it all off with zaire French flair. Formidable!    

In the pool, Diving, Racing and Dancing, all of them were great. And a big shout out to those poor Ukrainian women who had to train in wetsuits these past two winters in Kiev because of a lack of electricity. That Pute, Putin! Un salaud, un fumier! He should be strung up with all the other tyrants who invaded countries: Genghis Khan, Hitler, George Bush, Tony Blair and Netanyahu, to name a few. 

Anyway,,,, I perved in bliss for an entire evening watching the Artistic Swimming competition.  

The Chinese seem to be great at everything, of course. "Attention le monde! Car ils sont déjà la!"

Paris, its river Seine, with all its beauty, was put to full use for this grand event. In fact, I wonder it will ever again be as lovely as it seemed in this year of our lord, 2024. The dystopian panic which most of us live with from morning till night was lifted temporarily as if  by all that French Charm. Who would have thought? Even, it was said, the waiters on the Champs Élysées smiled with an easy joy! Ça alors!!  

While watching, I imagined that for those hardy young lucky families, which came from all over Europe and abroad, to spend two weeks at the Games would have been the greatest gift a parent might offer their young children, who, like the young athletes themselves, will hold in their hearts the most cherished memories for there rest of their lives. Indeed, not a fake Disneyland, but the real deal these Games. And it feels to me like a gift spread around the world at a time of such great uncertainty on our planet.

I couch-surfed all around the games visiting everything, the Equestrians in Versailles, The divers and racers in The New Aquatic Center and the speedy, but patient Wall Climbers at le Bourget, the athletes of every size and shape at Le Stade de France as well as the amazing Fencers in the spectacular Grand Palais. With the exception of the two new structures at Le Bourget, Paris used all its existing infrastructure for the 2024 Games. Felicitaions!

For me, the lover of anything graphic, it was a daring choice of violets and pinks that they chose to use pretty much everywhere, and for all sports. It was chancy but worked so well. Mixing cool lilac next to Naples Yellow, Hot Pinks next deep, deep Lilacs! It was a colourful response to our current gender blending confusion, and I say, "Go for it Man,,, Woman,,, Him,,, her,,, They,,, Whatever works for them!"

Immobile, I watched all this gorgeous activity with divine decadence from my sofa. I was a drifter among foreigners for two weeks time, watching golfers, gymnasts and rowers and scullers, tennis and polo players, volleyballers  and shooters using both bullets and arrows. The marathons were wonderful, all these black and brown coloured athletes making their hilly way around the August heat of Paris. And the Parisians were out in full force, giddy with pride while leaving their uber-cool irony at home.

While the world wages war upon itself in various places around the globe, teams from the poorest countries on earth came to us with their fragile wares. Many ending up in last place like the marathoner from Buthan who had struggled towards the end, walking a long while past the cheering Parisians. She eventually picked herself up and continued and when she came around the last turn towards the finish line the amazing crowd which had not left their seats since the elite runners had crossed 2 hours earlier, erupted with joy. 

In the Stade de France an Afghani women came to run, I forget which length,,,,1500M? She too, came in last. It was an unforgettable finish. 

Yes, Yes,... I know the Olympics are known for being a great waste of money, resources and energy, but somehow, in this special moment, the people of France offered up something new just when the world seemed to need it the most. Mocked by Murdoch's Right Wing Sky News here in Australia, and elsewhere sans doubt, for providing recycled cardboard beds to the athletes, they derided everything about France's efforts at sustainability and inclusion. What can you do? These are horrible, small people who love Trump. Go figure.

What these kinds of people missed is that it was a ray of human hope in a world already so full of inexhaustible darkness. The French, always so unnervingly clever with their moral righteousness, might actually have hit a living mark this time by putting in right action behind where their high ideals have too often just been words engraved in stone. Even if but a temporary reprieve from our uncertain shadows, we were thus offered some light,,,, not bad.

At a cost of about 2 billion Euros to put on the Games, almost nothing came from the Public Purse, they claim. If so, great! Millions were raised from all the usual suspects; The Nikes, The MacDonalds, The Rolexes, The TAG Heuers, The Apples and Microsofts, etc, etc,,, Actually, who cares? They run the world anyway, so let them pay for the Olympics! And who cares if the entire affair looked like Louis Vuitton advertisement? At least there was a bit of class, and it did look good.

France also got a reprieve from the political uncertainty hanging over its head like the sword of Damocles. Autumn will bring stormy weather. But like a great fruit harvest, what do they say in Provence at the end of the melon season? "Toute les bonne choses ont fin!" So be it, but what a melon season! For there were good and we ate well.

And yes, Gazan's are starving and homeless, so are the Yemeni's, but so are so many other parts of Africa, and in New York too, everywhere! There is no escape from the awful injustices that go everyday around the world. It's all so disheartening it makes a sensitive soul want to crawl into bed and roll over against the wall. 

All this, a friend said to me last week about why he would not partake in this 'fake thing', "a complete waste of money, and this is why I don't watch the Olympics!" I disagreed but said little.

Personally, I don't believe that governments are the people, despite the hype to the contrary. I don't blame athletes for being of one nationality or another. Of course, they say that people are the soul of a nation which I can believe, but people don't run their nations despite what they may think. I don't believe that Putin, Trump, Lukashenko, Sinwar or Netanyahu, just a few of the many thugs who really represent their nation's interests. By hook or by crook, these despots run their countries into the ground, and its the citizens who always pay in the end.

A nations's athletes are just athletes, that is all. What they believe, or not, is their own business, just like for every citizen around the world. Keep it simple I say, but call out the horse shit when it stinks.

Many bad things happen to a nation when it strays off course, even just a few degrees at a time, until when years have passed and it suddenly becomes a nation unrecognisable to even its own citizens. 

 

But hey! What I really wanted to say was that despite all the poor and sometimes atrocious human behaviour going on in this world, the youth of the Games is at least a sign of Hope for us all. 

And lastly because colours are such a very important part of the 'equipe, here at L'Air de Rien', it behooves me to announce my pick for the Gold Medal for the very best looking uniform (the Kit) for the Olympics 2024.  

And the winner is Zee Fabulous French! That gorgeous blue against that white, with just a sliver of red! Qui me fait bander!!

À la prochaine!

P.S. Who will ever forget my Aussie compatriot, the breakdancer, Raygunn, about whom no one has yet found the right words.