Pablo Picasso, Family of Saltimbanques, 1905

This painting from Picasso’s Rose Period is one of my favourites. Each character seems to hold a thousand secrets, and its dusty palette evokes a mysterious, melancholic atmosphere which is entrancing. I feel as though I am looking for an answer to an unknown question.

I have written a brief taster of the many meanings laced in this one Picasso painting:

After a number of years producing intensely melancholic paintings with a signature blue hue, Picasso’s palette warmed to a tepid rose along with a new subject matter of the street performer which was to dominate his work from 1904 to 1905. The common themes depicted are families of street or circus performers, known as saltimbanques, with the harlequin acting as the central character among these destitute figures. The harlequin acts as Picasso’s alter ego and can be seen as his self portrait in a number of works including ‘Les Saltimbanques’.

It is important to refer to the historic tradition of documenting the street performer in Paris and consequently the symbolic associations attached to the saltimbanque. The 19^th century artist and cartoonist Honoré Daumier was one of the first artists to focus and record the street clown, with an emphasis on the poorest class of performer. Therefore Daumier’s work reinforces the idea of the street performer as a symbolic victim of society. The poems of Baudelaire include imagery of the tragic clown and how they confront the bourgeois within the modernising landscape of urban Paris. Both are clear avenues of influence for Picasso, highlighting the symbolic nature of saltimbanque images.

The significance of the saltimbanque was to symbolise the idea of an outsider. Heightened by the rapid developments of Parisian society, the industrialisation and urbanisation process, the now obsolete street performer reflected the anxiety and disconnection with this unfamiliar world. Picasso immersed himself fully into urban Paris, his life focused in the seedy streets of Montmartre surrounded by his own avant-garde troupe. The vibrant nature of Paris was of great influence to Picasso’s character and to his art. The Cirque Medrano in Montmarte was frequented by Picasso, which sparked memories of his native Spain, where he had a love affair with circus performer Rosita del Oro.

Picasso liked to spend time backstage with the performers, drinking alongside them and sketching their rest time. He empathised with these sad clowns, a foreigner to Paris himself and wholly committed, like them, to his art form. Alongside these circus trips was Apollinaire, poet and a friend who had a considerable influence on Picasso’s saltimbanque works. Whilst Picasso drew and painted these street performers, Apollinaire wistfully wrote about them. Both men had a great deal of respect for one another, corresponding and seeking advice over each other’s crafts in a collaborative way

Apollinaire evokes a melancholic wandering existence, as shown in this extract from his ‘Les Saltimbanques’:

‘The bear and the monkey, well trained animals,

Beg for coins, as they pass by.

Next to one of them who is dying on the road

And who by tomorrow will be forgotten,

A little saltimbanque uses his hand

In place of the handkerchief he doesn’t own.

And the woman breast-feeds,

With her River Lethe milk of forgetting

A newborn baby, beside the sad dwarf

And Harlequin Trismegistus.’

The group leads a nomadic lifestyle, although in a family everyone is surviving alone. A member of the troupe dies and he is quickly forgotten. Picasso’s ‘Les Saltimbanques’ has been allegorically linked with the idea that each character represents a member of his friends, such as the obese jester as Apollinaire. Therefore the suggestion of being together, but surviving alone can be read in terms of his friendships.

By using the harlequin as his alter ego, the image of a masculine, cunning, ambiguous figure is projected upon Picasso. Although the mystery of Picasso is not fully unravelled, the use of the harlequin and the saltimbanque imagery suggests how he wanted to be perceived to his audience. The Spanish harlequin performing to the crowd. 

I would stare at the grains of light suspended in that silent space, struggling to see into my own heart. What did I want? And what did others want from me? But I could never find the answers. Sometimes I would reach out and try to grasp the grains of light, but my fingers touched nothing.

This extract from Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. A thought provoking and absorbing story. Highly recommended.

Paris: the most romantic city in the world, a centre of art, the City of Lights.

Yeah, so that might be true, but be careful, you don’t want to get ‘Paris Syndrome’.

 

Symptoms include hallucinations, anxiety and sweating. Sufferers include idealistic tourists, often from Japan, first arriving in Paris. Don’t worry; it’s not some horrible ’28 Days Later’ virus that has intoxicated the streets and suburbs of Paris…but our own mythology and vision surrounding the city hindering our actual visit.

After a lifetime’s conditioning of believing that we will all find a dirt-free, crime-free utopia of romance in Paris…it can come as quite a shock to throngs of excited tourists stepping off the train at Gare du Nord to be confronted with a grimy McDonalds avec bedraggled beggar slumped outside its doors.

Those beautiful Chanel adverts are to blame; with their traffic free shots of misty eyed movie stars being rescued by tanned, muscular Parisian gods. No wonder tourists have panic attacks…they were expecting serene streets and a perfect man/woman en francais.

Not wanting to get ‘sweats’ or ‘hallucinations’, I arrived in Paris armed with my British reserve. I wasn’t going to be fooled by the iconic structure of the Eiffel Tower. I knew I wasn’t going to get any marriage proposals at the top or find ‘Perfect French man Pierre’ amongst the plastic models, key rings and crowds.

I was playing it cool with Paris. Chanel hadn’t fooled me.

That was until I reached Montmartre. As a recent graduate of Art History, Montmartre was the destination of many hours of research into the modernist pioneers of art. Finally, I could walk down the streets strolled down by Picasso and his troupe, Modigliani, Matisse…all these artists whose lives I studied at university.

I wanted to witness this bohemian life that has been recorded in countless books. I was in search of dilapidated artists studios, and groups of philosophers, artists, poets debating life over shots of Absinthe in cafes.

Although the cobbled streets of Montmartre may still remain, this is no longer an area of émigrés, of artistic outsiders. The bohemian lifestyle is unobtainable.

Oh no, am I having my own Paris syndrome? Picasso would never have paid 5 Euros for a coffee.

Today, some of Picasso’s famous artworks reside in the Pompidou, an exceptional gallery which consumed my attention for hours. Filled with modernist classics housed within an innovative structure, I could see the works of art I had written about throughout my studies. The vast windows allowed the view of the Sacre Cour and Montmartre to be seen alongside the great works of Matisse, Braque, Picasso and countless other awe-inspiring works.

Absorbing both the art and environment of Paris allowed me to establish a greater understanding about everything I learnt from my degree.

I may have been disappointed at the lack of bohemian Absinthe-sipping artists residing in Montmartre, but I wasn’t going to get a syndrome over it. When visiting a city, there comes a point where it’s not about ticking off a list of ‘must-see sights’, it’s about having an experience. You just need to relax and absorb.

Sitting beneath the Sacre Cour with some beers, chatting to strangers from all over the world was my unforgettable Parisian experience.

In the early hours of the morning, overlooking an illuminated city, discussing the world with one Russian, two Danish artists and a French local amidst all our language barriers and cultural differences. Listening to the busker playing every Beatle classic whilst swigging cheap beer from a can. Perhaps not the most chic and sophisticated Parisian night. But it was mine.

That few hours felt more real than any book I had read about Paris life. In amongst a mix of people, I was a step closer to the émigré, bohemian lifestyle that my artistic icons may have lead. I was relaxed and enjoying myself, having forgotten about my tourist list of ‘to-do’s’. Discussing the world with perfect strangers. Like a troupe of bohemian artistes. 

So, I never got to see all the famous tourist sites of Paris. But it doesn’t matter because I have come away with an experience I won’t forget.

Plus, it just gives me a brilliant excuse to return to the cosmopolitan City of Lights in the near future. (And, free from any Paris syndrome symptoms)

frankocean:

half..

         FULL

DEFIANT LONDON COMMUNITIES IN THE FACE OF LOOTERS

Following the horrific, senseless, disgusting destruction and looting in areas of London last night…people of the community are united against this criminality, cleaning the streets together.

A little bit of hope.

Stay safe tonight.

#riotcleanup

There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery.

Joseph Conrad                                                                    

No amount of skillful invention can replace the essential element of imagination.

Edward Hopper

Little declarations of Love.

Love padlocks on Butcher’s Bridge, Ljubljana. 

You’re only given alittle spark of madness…you must’nt lose it.

My photograph of Lennon’s Wall, Prague, Czech Republic, 2011.

The Beatles and John Lennon represent youth, freedom of expression, love and peace. A slice of Liverpool history. And that spark of genius and magic has found its way East of England, to the terracotta and copper rooftops of Prague. 

Prior to 1989, Prague was a Communist, concealed city, in which the melodic tune of The Beatles was officially muted.

But, of course, you can’t crush human spirit, and even in Communist Prague Lennon touched a repressed generation. The shock of Lennon’s death in 1980 caused shockwaves around the world, and Prague was no exception. Seen as a symbol of youthful vitality, peace and hope, inhabitants of Prague made their own tribute, using the iconic image of Lennon to embellish a city wall.

People knew the risks of making such a statement; the harsh realities of punishment and prison if they were caught. But this small gesture of expression carried an immense power. The dripping of colour onto a plain wall spoke to a repressed people.

Every day the Communist police would paint over the messages of peace and love, the message that Lennon’s spirit inspired within people. Everyday more brightly coloured statements would appear. A quiet backstreet of Prague became the centre of an explosion of the vitality of human spirit.

From that day onwards, the graffiti never left.

Even amongst the tourists and stag-dos of Prague today, the message lives on. Layers upon layers of optimism, hope and expression. 

subcreation:

Underwater Sculpture by Jason Declaires Taylor

This looks beautiful.

Identity.

Do we have just one personality; one identity; are we just One?

I certainly don’t talk to a lecturer like I would my friend; or chat to a friend like I would my Mum. So, you could say, I have constructed and altered my identity to the situation and to the person. Can we ever really have one personality?

When an artist paints/draws/photographs themselves they are providing a representation of their identity. This is a self-portrait. But it doesn’t necessarily mean it is their Self. It could be an aspect of their identity, but not completely them. 

It’s this (postmodern) idea that personalities are flexible.

The Surrealist artist Claude Cahun is infamous for her ambiguous self. In her Self-Portrait with Mirror, she can be seen as both male and female.

[Claude Cahun, Self Portrait with Mirror, 1928]

Although she is a female; she has short ‘boyish’ hair and her womanly curves disguised behind a loose shirt. She is not shy or coy, considered feminine attributions, but instead she stares out at the viewer, commanding the photograph. She is powerful and dominant, like a man would have been in 1928. She can hold just as much power.

In Self-Portrait with Masks on Cloak, she has been transformed into a feminine creature with rouged lips and smoky eyes. A desired woman.

[Claude Cahun, Self-Portrait with Masks on Cloak, 1928]

Cahun displayed and concealed herself throughout her career and the masks attached to the cloak reflect the complex layers that made up her identity.

Just like Cahun, each person carries with them a series of masks, taken on and off dependent on the situation.

Maybe the idea of such a flexible and changing self might considered unsettling. But really, without such complexity and variety in people, life would be pretty grey wouldn’t it? Variety adds colour to our life. And difference should be embraced.