Ergebnis von "Edward Smith" in Alle Kategorien

Thank God I wasn’t in Venice for the opening of this year’s Biennale, even though I had a number of artist friends who were exhibiting there. The crowds to get into the main shows are fierce, with queues at all the main national pavilions. So is the social competition. “Have you been invited to this?” “Have you got a ticket for that?” Elbows out. Armour-plated ego at the ready.

London is now a major centre for the international art world. The only other European city that houses as many studios is not Paris but Berlin. And Berlin does not have nearly as many galleries, public or commercial, which feature the latest developments in contemporary art.

'Black British Style', the current costume show at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, raises a lot of complex issues for someone like myself. I am not black, but I am undoubtedly West Indian. My family have lived in different parts of the West Indies for more than 300 years and in Jamaica for more than a century.

Art dealing today in the United States is a huge, well-organized, well-publicized industry. Probably, there has never previously been a market in art that has played such an important role in a national economy. The United States retains the preeminent position in the world market for art that it achieved immediately after World War II and seems unlikely to lose it any time soon. In addition to serving collectors and institutions based in America, the American dealing community supplies works of art to individuals and museums all over the world.

Dr. Glyn Thompson’s digital book, Duchamp’s Urinal? The Facts Behind the Façade, at first tends to make the heart sink. Dr. Thompson has done his homework, and he is insistent that you should do it too. "No skipping over the chapter-and-verse, boy, in search of something a bit racier." Some of the facts are, however, sufficiently racy in themselves. The urinal, or Fountain, as it is now officially called, turns out not to have been the work - or wheeze - of Duchamp himself, but that of a mad German baroness.

We live at a time when there is great confusion, certainly here in the West, about contemporary art in Russia. It is now nearly a quarter of a century since the Soviet Union fell. No convincing narrative has emerged concerning the development of Russian art during that period.

In this study, Art, Poetry, and WW1 by Edward Lucie-Smith of writing, poetry, and painting in the centenary year of the outbreak of the First World War, the author considers the historical impact on the general psyche of the calamitous events, reflected in the expression of poets and visual artists. He establishes a continuity to the theme with reference to works by Velázquez, Watteau, Goya, and others, in their treatment of the spectacle of battle and the horrors of war and human conflict.

Flying into Sarajevo is no big deal nowadays. Customs and immigration are quick. You don't need a visa if you hold an EEC passport. Perhaps the only noticeable difference between this and other flights within Europe is a slightly increased degree of airport security. Hand luggage goes through a scanner at two different points, before you board the aircraft. Nor is arrival at the hotel any different from arriving at big chain hotels in other European cities. The Holiday Inn is transatlantic in style, with a big fountain outside and a soaring atrium within. Things are busy - the receptionist leafs through lots of different pieces of paper before finally, and rather reluctantly, locating our reservations. "Do you mind having a room that overlooks the big boulevard? It might be a bit noisy." But when I get there, it's double-glazed, so there is no problem.

As a number of recent exhibitions have shown, there is a growing fashion for what is called appropriation in art. To you and me, what this means is slavish copying - no ifs and buts, apologies replaced by the paradoxical assertion that this is a thoroughly original, impeccably avant-garde thing to do. Examples were a recent show at the Saatchi Gallery, entitled "Post Pop: East Meets West"; and "Sturtevant: Double Trouble", on view till late February at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

Charming Baker is a phenomenon. Right now, a much bigger phenomenon in the British art scene than the much touted, but now rather tired and fading YBAs. The YBAs, after suitably Bohemian, in-your-face beginnings, are now the official face of British art. You will find most of them (though not quite all) represented in the closing galleries of the new hang at Tate Britain, which aims to tell the complete story of British art, from the Tudors until now.

It is a paradox of a sort that the only fully authentic Holbein painting of King Henry VIII of England should now reside in Madrid, in the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza. It left Britain as late as 1933, sold by Earl Spencer, grandfather of Diana, Princess of Wales. Holbein is, after all, the author of what is perhaps the most iconic and formidable of all British royal images. Fittingly, the Thyssen-Bornemizsa portrait adorned the cover of the catalogue that accompanied the "Holbein in England" exhibition at Tate Britain in London.

The new exhibition at the National Gallery in London is entitled "Delacroix - And the Rise of Modern Art". In other words, Delacroix, one of the most important artists of the first half of the 19th century, is presented as being important, not so much for what he actually did as an individual creator, but because he in so many ways foreshadowed the kind of art that was made immediately after his demise - in particular by artists linked to Impressionism, Post-Impressionism and even Fauvism.

Byzantine art has a slightly odd reputation. It is regarded, on the one hand, as something remote, hieratic, and difficult. On the other hand, the word Byzantium has a very romantic ring - it lives in our minds as the name of a citadel of civilization, a place that preserved for posterity both intellectual and material treasures that would otherwise have vanished forever. The remarkable exhibition now at the Royal Academy in London touches on both of these aspects.

In the early years of the 20th century, Paris became the center for an international community of artists. Some of them were French, but the city also offered its hospitality to artists from an increasingly wide range of other nationalities. Some, like Marc Chagall, came from communities that had never produced artists of international note before. The result was a mixture between a stewpot and a laboratory.

Maybe it’s time for attention to turn back to the Russians. In the 1980s, as some of us still remember, so-called perestroika art was pretty big in the West, with enthusiasm from leading Western curators and critics, and some support from the big international auction rooms. In fact, the pattern was pretty much the same as what happened with contemporary Chinese art just a little later on.

Of all the British poets of my generation, Ted Hughes, now nearly 20 years dead, left behind him both the grandest and most sulfurous reputation. The controversies he aroused rumble on, and the hurts, in certain quarters, are still keenly felt. Any life story that comprises not just two but actually three suicides, plus a murder, does wrap a cloak of darkness about itself.

When I visited the huge Damien Hirst exhibition staged by the Gagosian Gallery in New York in 1996, one of the most striking pieces was a large glass tank full of live fish. Dumped among the fish were an obstetrical couch, in a rather decayed condition, and various obstetrical implements. For some time after I had seen the show, this image tugged at my mind. It reminded me of something - but of what? Finally, memory dragged up the reference I needed: Hirst's piece was a direct descendant of Salvador Dali's installation, "Rainy Taxi".

British, even more than most countries, like to have a "boss" artist - an artistic figure who is indubitably the head of the profession. In the old days, this need was easily accommodated within the establishment structures of the time. The big boss could be Sir Joshua Reynolds, knighted by the monarch of the day, or Lord Leighton, given a peerage. Both of these were also presidents of the Royal Academy.

The new exhibition at Tate Britain celebrates one of the best loved of all British artists, the landscape painter, John Constable. In his own lifetime, Constable was constantly struggling to catch up with his great rival, J. M. W. Turner, whose astonishing fluency he could never match. Turner has maintained his fame, but, among the British at least, Constable is now more intimately loved.

The current agitation about the restitution of artistic treasures of all kinds to their original locations is usually presented as overdue justice for faults committed by European colonialism. In fact, this is a serious oversimplification. Conquering armies have always regarded works of art as legitimate spoil. Modern attitudes to the legitimate or illegitimate possession of famous artworks can be traced to the European Enlightenment that blossomed in the late 18th century.