Category Archives: Arts

Theatre

Can a writer beat an agent?

… and just how much of a bastard can an agent be?

Those are the questions posed by a new play that opened last night at The Old Red Lion. My review is over on My London Your London.

Theatre

Do you care about Gynticide?

Over on My London Your London I’ve a review of an Icelandic production of Peer Gynt that opened last night at the Barbican – full marks for surrealism and staging, lower marks for characters about whom you can care.

Theatre

Sailing on the Ship of Fools today

Over on My London Your London I’ve a review of a fascinating production reworking the medieval ship of fools metaphor for the modern age. Yet Andrew Bovell’s Ship of Fools also keeps one foot in the medieval world – in Basel of 1492 to be precise.

Arts Avignon Travel

Avignon: Petite Palace and Calvet Museum

One day in Avignon and a feast of art…

petitepalace

First up is the Petite Palace, which faces down on to the square in front of the Palais de Papes, and is a very model of Renassaince lightness and balance after its weight.

What it houses, however, is what has to be described as a rather specialist collection of pre-Renaissance (mostly religious) art. There are really only so many broadly Byzantine-style Madonnas with gold backgrounds you can look at before you start to glaze over. (It was not entirely surprising that staff outnumbered visitors about three-one.)

The room I found by far the most interesting was the first, which out of keeping with the rest houses a disparate collection from roughly the Palais period.

It is a time of tremendously disparate influences. You go from the “Le signe des gemeaux” from near nimes, very much degraded classical marble carvings to grotesque column heads that are very “medieval”.

But the highlight is definitely the frescos from the Maison de Sorgues at Vaucluse, with naïve but delightfully lively hunting scenes and court scene. In one a greyhound-type hunting dog is straining at the leash; while another much heavier hound-type is obviously exhausted, its tongue hanging limply. There’s artistic talent there, but the trees have individual leaves on neatly spaced, splayed branches as children draw them and there is no sense of perspective.

The colours must have been spectacular; the once green hose of a page give a hint of this. But they have been faded and much-greyed by time.

Generally faces are sketched in, but again the artistry shines through in two lovers in a corner of one forest scene. They are surely about to kiss, but another young man is listening in from behind a termite mound.

Then, continuing the artistic feast, on to the Musee Calvet, which is Avignon’s primary art museum.

To start at the beginning; the prehistory section, which is recently remodelled and moodily lit (not quite to my taste), but a very fine collection, beginning with the stone stelae of which much is made of the Stele du Rocher des Doms, found at the centre of town, “proving” its ancient roots.

The commentary says these (although only 30-50cm in height) were part of the megalithic phenomenon and reflected changes in Neolithic society after about 3,500BC, when social hierarchies increasingly developed. They had three periods – an early one of just simple stones, then stones marked with chevrons and recesses. Finally you get those with stylised human faces, dating from about 2,800-2,400BC.

Then you get into the bronze age, where the collection really shines, as with this spectacular dagger.

dagger

There’s also a brilliant collection of bronze age axes that are really works of art in their own right.
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Feminism Theatre

A focus on ‘working’ women

Over on My London Your London I’ve a review of the Union Theatre’s fine production of Stars in the Morning Sky, a translation of Alexander Galin’s account of a group of prostitutes forced out of Moscow in 1980 in the pre-Olympics “clean-up”. It is the first in a series of productions with female directors as part of the theatre’s anniversary celebrations – that this requires still special arrangements is, well, depressing…

Books Women's history

Nothing new about misplaced apostrophes

Arriving today from the irrestistible reaches of eBay’s antiquarian section is a humble little volume one of Mrs Jameson’s Memoir’s of the Early Italian Painters. I can’t blame the printer, but the later bookbinder definitely had problems with the concept of the apostrophe, much like today’s greengrocers.

Written inside in beautifully clear copperplate is:

Louisa Clarke,
the gift of her Aunt,
December 1851


I wonder who she was…

Mrs Jameson is one of my eBay favourites – she’s nearly always very cheap, which suggests she sold an awful lot of books.

She had a full if not always easy life – surely calling out for a modern biography, but I didn’t think there is one.