Dali, Tête Raphaëlesque éclatée (1951)

I promised myself to try write everyday... Great idea, a lot harder to implement in reality than it sounds in theory, especially so close to my semester 1 exams. So now I'm not trying for everyday, but hopefully a couple times a week. On the bright side, I went to the Degas to Dali exhibition at the Auckland Art Gallery again, a great mix of modern art with Matisse, van Gogh and even a Warhol, an artist I'd actually never seen before. But one Dali was absolutely beautiful, and I knew I had to write about it.



Salvador Dali, Tête Raphaëlesque éclatée (1951)
Oil on canvas
43.20 x 33.10 cm

Known as Tête Raphaëlesque éclatée, but for those of us can't speak so exotically, she's known as Exploding Raphaelesque Head. Quite descriptive and quite accurate if you ask me. The influence I could immediately pick up was the famous Italian painter Raphael, and I don't say that from the title. I literally saw this work from across the gallery floor, and I immediately knew it was based off of Raphael. My second thought was, knowing it wasn't a Raphael, how skillful the artist was, this distorted and fragmented head yes still such a recognizable interest. I had a quick search of Madonna's that Raphael painted, and while I can't find the exact posing, this work is probably the closest I'll get to the real thing. Raphael painted a series of these Madonna's in various poses with Jesus and John the Baptist, and Dali has hit the nail on the head. Her carefully tilted face, looking down in maternal warmth even when the babies aren't present while there's this grace, this humbleness to her. Her head also resembles the Pantheon, a temple with a large dome that's got a large oculus and Dali probably did this in homage to Raphael, who's buried here. But the oculus also gives this ethereal feeling in combination with the lightly sketched halo. She has this inner light from a heavenly place, an inner wisdom that is from something higher than us, she truly has reached the status of a Virgin Saint.

But this is where the classical influences really end, as the most obvious feature is the fluctuating and almost fluid fragments that make up her head. Dali describes it best, there's this inner explosion and although they may be held together by some sort of other wordly gravity, they're disintegrating. This is one moment in time, but who knows wether she will still be with us in the next. The date is significant in this context, 1951. Dali has had to live through World War I, World War II and the horrific bombings of Ngasaki and Hiroshima by the first atomic bombs (I just had to google that to make sure I had spelt it right, and the images that came up were terrifying). Dali has to be feeling some disillusionment, some questions over what history has presented him. This shattered world, fractured, divided. Destruction, everywhere. Perhaps this is why he painted such a distorted image of such a beautiful subject.

Another contemporary development of the time to mention was the atomic bomb, which has undoubtedly influenced him. Although there's this inner explosion, it isn't one of rubble and shrapnel but one of this shimmering fluidity. The scientific revelations (or horrors, whichever way there is to look at it) was not lost on Dali, who kept up with scientific readings of the time and was surely aware of atomic theory and what it could bring. He had witnessed it's horrors only six years earlier.

You can also see the faint sketchings of vertebrae just to the right of her neck, a light inkling of the rest of her body. It adds a certain grace in my opinion, I don't know what it is but I just love the beauty of the spine. One other point to mention is the half recognizable wheelbarrow in the bottom left, a wavering image of what it once was. This to me is a small modern twist to an otherwise modern main subject, perhaps signalling the destruction of such ordinary things that the atomic bomb can bring.

I've always loved the Surrealists in their own way, and I have held admiration for Dali and all his innovations but this work... It has got to be in my top 3, if not, my favourite work of all time. This absolute clash and mix of beauty and destruction, heaven and hell, enlightenment and destruction, terror and calm, dream and reality, old and new... What is not to love about this painting. I think this is Dali's masterpiece, and even though it's been painted over 50 years ago, it resonates with me. It makes me wonder about if we've really progressed from the terror of what's happened. I sat there in a gallery and looked at it, and it all just melted away, even if just for a second. I was in this other world with her and it was all so certain and uncertain. So fragile, like any little tilt would make it all fall away.

She's so beautiful...

Picasso, Guernica (1937)

Pablo Picasso, Guernica (1937)
Oil on canvas
349 cm × 776 cm

Another Picasso so soon, I couldn't help myself. This is probably my favourite work by him, and it's probably his most famous, it's just been playing on my mind a lot lately. I think a lot of people don't like Picasso because what they see when they look at his pieces (much like this) is a stage of chaos and disorganization, when really, everything has carefully been planned.

This scene is depicting the bombing of the Spanish town Guernica by Italian and German planes during the Spanish Civil War. It's important because it's the first time that in aviation that planes specifically targeted a defenceless civilian town, recognized mostly as an act of terrorism. I mean look at how Picasso has depicted it, he certainly caught the terror. There's never really been a universally accepted interpretation of this painting, it's all about how you interpret it.

The main focus to me is the horse in the center, in a silent scream of agony with its side wounded. A bull sits just to the left of this, it's tail reminiscent of fire. A man lies dead on the bottom of the work, but interestingly is his left hand, which bears stigmata marks like those of Jesus. Is Picasso trying to paint these men as martyrs? However there seems to be a bit of hope too, in the right hand of this fallen man is a sprouting flower, perhaps this represents the chance of life springing from the destruction. The most eerie calm comes from above though, the 'eye' that has a lightbulb in its centre. The bombs. The cause of the destruction. Like an all knowing being in the sky, this symbolism is so calm but terrifying at the same time.
The most disturbing part personally for me in this work is the mother and child in the left hand side. The child is limp in her arms, lifeless. She screams in agony, a vocal manifestation of her loss, shrill and chilling yet silent. It's the horrifying reality of the situation, not just adults but innocent children who suffer to. It breaks my heart to look at the couple.
The writhing yet static mass of figures that interlock are haunting, Picasso has truly created a masterpiece here. I haven't even begun to cover all the symbolism and figures, it's so personal but the message is always the same. War is wrong. Simple, cliche, but effective all the same. It seems like Picasso has taken all the war statistics that we hear everyday and created a visual representation of the people that are lost.
These are not numbers. They are not names on a page. They are not the headlines of a newspaper. The victims in our history books.
They are people. Defenceless people. The individuals who suffer, and still suffer to this day, because people higher up in society cannot settle petty differences. How dare we not mourn the loss of them. How dare we overlook them. I can hear Picasso say, look at them. Look at their faces. Look at their pain, their loss, their death. Just simple, look.
It's a beautiful piece, in the most haunting and terrifying way imaginable.

David, La Mort de Marat (1793)



Highly political yet so spiritual, this painting seems on the edge of both in its beauty. By the French painter Jacques-Louis David, I've always been so mesmerized by this painting, and knowing the backstory only heightens it for me.




Jacques-Louis David, La Mort de Marat [The Death of Marat], 1793
Oil on canvas
165 cm × 128 cm

Jean-Paul Marat was a leader of the French Revolution, a journalist and maybe one of the most radical revolutionaries in the movement. He named 'enemies of the people' in his writings, which (wether intentional or unintentional) led to numerous executions which may have been in the hundreds.  This man signed the death warrants of a vast amount of people and as a result was assassinated by those who didn't agree with what he was doing. He was assassinated in March of 1793, the same year of David's commission. But what does this mean in relation to David's work?

Look at the painting, we can see that even as he dies Marat is working on a makeshift table, still writing with the feather in his hand and paper on the table. This is almost admirable, he is ever working seen by the note on the table. However the note in his hand is from his assassin, held in a loose grip. In the very bottom left of the work is a bloodied knife, and just below his collarbone is a small laceration, the stabbing that led to his death. Subtle, no? The point of this subtlety is clear, David is not drawing attention to his assassination. It is not the assassination that is the focus here, it is the death. A very fine line, but extremely important to recognize.

Marat was also known to have a skin disease which was only relieved by a bath, and has also been described as having a hideous face. But the man here is beautiful, with no indication of any skin ailments. What was David trying to achieve? The answer lies in who commissioned the work, for it was the revolutionaries who wanted David to paint Marat's death. 

Marat is not depicted as a tyrant, but as a martyr. He is not in the throes of death, but in a poignant depiction of his transition to the next life. The soft glow on his face coming from above indicates a heavenly ascension that resonates deeply with traditional Christian art. Over a third of the painting is empty, an ambiguous space in where this world and the afterlife mix. Marat has been effectively shown as a saint, a martyr, a man who should be followed and revered. It is a work of propoganda, created to support the revolutionaries despite their numerous acts of terrorism.

I love it, a mix of political intentions and spiritual ascension. That empty space, that soft glow, it's a quiet and peaceful place even in the grips of death. David has truly done his job, the beauty and poignancy isn't missed.

What I love though is the irony. David painted this work as a commission in support of the revolutionaries, but in truth, David seems to simply painted for the highest bidder. He shifted in supporting the revolutionaries to supporting Napoleon, and subsequently creating numerous paintings for the leader. Maybe it was survival in the political world, maybe it was a real shift in his attitude, I don't know.

All political intentions aside, I can't deny the beauty of this painting. How peaceful yet terrifying it is. That space... That beautiful space...

The All-American Rejects, Kids in the Street (2012)

Kids in the Street, The All-American Rejects (2012)

I'm absolutely loving this album at the moment. I was a bit skeptical at first, some of the songs on the last album had been a bit average, but I was really surprised with this effort.

I've always followed The All-American Rejects since their breakthrough (their most first really famous single probably being Dirty Little Secret) and their music is really addictive. But this album combines Pop/Rock tunes.

Beekeeper's Daughter is a bright and free song, makes me want to smile and dance, it's so upbeat! The video is really funny as well, I'd recommend a look if you've got the time.

Then you have the more Rock riffs like Walk Over Me which I had on repeat for quite a while. It's a bit hard to walk down the street and not want to headbang a little bit... Well to not look like a right dick while doing it. Especially the solo part when the guitar really breaks out, it's quite simple but break out the damn air guitars!

Heartbeak Slowing Down was quite a shock when I fell in love with it, it's quite pessimistic but beautiful (I fucking hate this town // I wanna burn it down // I've never felt so cold). Just looking at that lyric it seems unneccessarily depressing, but it's a song that makes your heart ache, a mix of love and hate. Don't leave this on repeat for too long, it really starts to get into your head after a while... But luckily Walk Over Me is right after to bring the mood right back up!

Gonzo, another track and how to explain the feelings when I listen to this? It's got a feeling of nostalgia, resignation, but also this overwhelming feeling of hope. It's triumph, uniting to overcome the loneliness that can sometimes come over us in this day and age. It's about moving forward, finding beauty in life. Gives me a proud feeling up whenever I hear it, I just want to go out there and live life, to rediscover what was once new.

Other highlights for me were, Bleed into Your Mind, Drown Next to Me... Oh who am I kidding, I pretty much loved the entire thing. Highly recommended, a mix of beauty, love, hate and downright fun.

The only downside for me was the title, it's taken from the track of the same name on the album, Kids in the Street. I found this track to be dull an repetitive, too cliche and overdone. Affection also bugged me.. It sounded like a song that needed to be on a romantic comedy or something, not at all fitting on the album. Although I have to admit, I did like the ending when the guitars really kicked in. But hey, the amazing songs outweigh the few crappy ones.

I find myself on a ride, these guys really take you into the feelings of these songs until you just get this upwelling of emotion. Sometimes I want to  go out and hug a stranger, sometimes I want to rock out, and sometimes I just want to say "fuck you" to that guy and continue dancing my heart out with a big goddamn smile on my face.

Picasso, Mère et enfant (1902)

I saw this artwork yesterday in the Degas to Dali exhibition in the Auckland Art Gallery and I have to say, this picture does the real piece no justice. I've always had a love-hate relationship with Picasso, I either love his work or find it awkward and disconnected, but this piece really touched me in some way I'm still finding hard to explain.

Standing there while looking at it in quiet murmuring room, it was like I was trespassing in this scene. A mother gently cradles her child, the blue saturating the piece in a soft yet deeply entrenched glow. I should not have been there, watching such an intimate moment, it was a scene that was so public yet so private.



Pablo Picasso, Mère et enfant [Mother and Child] (1902)
Oil on paper laid on canvas
40.50 cm x 33.00 cm

 Even though it's a scene with an air of tenderness, I can't help but feel some sort of resigned desperation in the mother. Why has she so quickly forgotten her washing in the corner to comfort her child? It feels like an acceptance of a hopeless future, the only thing left being a mothers embrace in an attempt at comfort.

Yet I wasn't sad. I didn't feel sad watching this woman. While looking at it, this hopelessness was coupled with a sort of hope. It wasn't like there was a switch or that one displaced the other, they coinsided. A resigned acceptance by the mother, but did it matter what the world held for the child if he or she had a mother that cared so deeply?

In a room filled with people chatting around me, I was enveloped in a silence so tender it almost hurt. My heart literally ached watching the duo. Such a scene of love and comfort, but so hopeless at the same time. I try and put it into words, but I never saw this painting as depressed. Perhaps lonely and quiet, but never a total depressive sadness. It was touched with endearment that came and went the longer I looked at it, fading in and out as I watched. It was the intruding in the worst way, feeling like she would turn and see me at any moment, but I couldn't manage to tear my eyes away.

Looking at it made me feel so damn human.