The Daily Norm

Mar 20

Norms do… Amsterdam’s Red Light District

Before I had even booked my trip to Amsterdam, I couldn’t help but plan a Norm representation of what must be Amsterdam’s most renowned attraction: its red light district. Some people see Norms as being child-friendly. This painting may persuade them otherwise. Here Norms are dressed in sex head to…err…round base, with lacey bras, thongs and other revealing lingerie. On their hands, acrylic nails to tap against the glass windows help them to attract the attention of their shy customers, while heavy makeup and perfectly coiffed hair complete a carefully manicured look. As for the customers, they come from all walks of life. Here is a business man, skulking away from work, hoping for a “quickie” before he goes home to his affluent home, his wife and children. There too is a sailor, desperate after weeks away at sea for a lady’s touch. And finally we have the Norm chav, covered in tattoos and a dirty vest – he can’t afford these classy scarlet women of the night, but he can stare, and wish.

Norms in Amsterdam's Red Light District (2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, acrylic on canvas)

The canvas is a box canvas, so I have painted around the sides to feature more buildings, and a few more of those lovely ladies. You can see the sides, and some detailed shots of the canvas below. Enjoy!

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2005-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Daily Sketch: Norms in Amsterdam (normsonline.wordpress.com)
Amsterdam Part V: Photographs (normsonline.wordpress.com)
Amsterdam Part I: Red Lights and the Rijksmuseum (normsonline.wordpress.com)

Mar 19

3 Comments

Brit art shunned by dOCUMENTA (13) – time for the UK to face up to our talentless contemporary art?

From June to September this year, the town of Kassel, Germany, will play host to the 13th dOCUMENTA exhibition. Established in 1955 by artist, teacher and curator Arnold Bode, the 5-yearly exhibition, whose first show featured the likes of Picasso and Kandisky, is self-proclaimed as a “key international exhibition of contemporary art worldwide”. Yet the “worldwide” element seems to have missed out a key player from its compass: At dOCUMENTA (13), the UK is conspicuous by reason of British artists’ total absence from the show. Are they trying to tell us something?

I read an interesting article in yesterday’s Sunday Times written by resident art critic, Waldemar Januszczak. He blamed dOCUMENTA’s apparent shunning of British artists on curators. He argues: “[t]he chief reason British art is mistrusted and hated abroad is that international curators disapprove of it. It isn’t clever enough for them. It does not espouse enough theory. It has a directness to it that makes their gaseous interpretations redundant. And it likes jokes, which they don’t”.

Damien Hirst - A thousand years

Good on Januszczak for being patriotic. But I can’t help but conclude that the real joke is British art itself. Contemporary art is a sticky wicket, a difficult often inaccessible manifestation of an artist’s attempts to find some new avenue which art has left hitherto unexplored. The trouble is, artists don’t have the luxury which the impressionists or the cubists or the abstractists did – these artists were emerging out of a rigid, regulated era of art, where paintings closely followed convention and artists feared exploring techniques beyond figurative representations of classical and biblical themes. Once artists began to break the mould, there were so many directions where artists could go, and so much they could do with the familiar canvas image, leading to an explosion of creativity and the creation of some of the world’s best loved works – the Picassos, the Van Goghs, the Matisses. Come the 1960s and things started to dry up. Jackson Pollock started to spray his canvases without any perceptible talent and Rothko painted vast works in a single colour. Little by little the need for actual artistic talent fell to the wayside as the singular requirement for “ideas” took hold until finally the hand of the artist was made entirely redundant: the art of the “readymades” reigned triumphant, right up until the monstrosity that was Tracey Emin’s unmade bed.

My bed - © Tracey Emin 1998 (like you'd want to copy it)

This would all be fine – call it a fad – if these artists weren’t taken so damn seriously. Damien Hirst has become a serial industrialist, a commercial tycoon all in the name of “art”. His works – pickled shark, rotting cow and polka dots aplenty (the majority of which he didn’t paint himself because, allegedly, he “couldn’t be ****ing arsed”) – are about to be given a huge solo retrospective at Tate Modern of all places. Meanwhile, Tracey Emin – who can’t draw to save her life – has been made Professor of Drawing at London’s Royal Academy, while her annual contribution to the RA’s Summer Exhibition make me want to weep. Yet still the visitors lap them up, buying each and every print of her childlike scrawl at lightening pace, just because they think, or rather they know, that they are making a good investment.

Damien Hirst - LSD

And herein, in my opinion, lies the problem. Compared to the romantic sentimentalism of countries like France, and the aesthetic-led inclination of countries like Italy, England has always been the boring big brother – the big industrialist placing economic concern at its core. We didn’t give birth to the airy luminescence of impressionist paintings – but we did bring you gloomy scenes of the industrial North by Lowry. We didn’t give you empassioned El Greco or compassionate Da Vinci, but we did give you Lucien Freud – creator of the most expensive painting every sold by a living artist. We’ve always been led by money, by investment, by industry.

Tracey Emin "I’ve got it all" (2000) - says it all really doesn't it.

We don’t rave about Emin and Hirst because we think they are any good – we know about them because advertising tycoon Charles Saatchi has bought into them. And once Saatchi invests in an artist, they must be good right? Wrong. Saatchi is the man with the money. He isn’t an authority on taste and this is why British art is being shunned by exhibitions like dOCUMENTA. Because our artists make it big because of investment, not talent. All the integrity of our art has flown out of the window, as we gaze in apparent wonder at a whole gallery turned over to a lightbulb switching on and off. And why is Tate modern giving itself over to that Hirst retrospective this summer? – Why, because it’s olympic year, and they can pull in the punters, and the admission fee, of course.

Tracey Emin Tower Drawing 18 (2007) monoprint, paper size: 4 11/16 x 5 11/16 in. (11.9 x 14.4 cm), Photography by Stephen White. Courtesy of White Cube.
© Tracey Emin ("Professor of Drawing")

In conclusion, dOCUMENTA (13)’s shun of Brit art should make collectors and galleries in the UK stand up and think. Art shouldn’t be about money – it should be about talent; about discovering an artistic genius who will place British art on the map for centuries to come, long after the last scrap of that unmade bed has been swept away into the rubbish. But how likely is that to happen so long as the powers that be stand to make a buck or too? I think you can answer that one for yourself.

Mar 15

11 Comments

Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe Part II – A Norm Re-imagining

Yesterday I explored how Manet’s enigmatic masterpiece, Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe, innovated an entirely new artistic mindset, setting a path towards impressionism, expressionism and beyond. In recognition of its important place in the history of art, countless artists have drawn inspiration from the work, and now I can add myself to the list. In today’s Daily Norm, I exclusively reveal to you my re imagining of Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe…Norm style.

At 40″ x 30″ it’s a large canvas and one that has taken me a lot of work since I begun painting shortly after Christmas. The detail of the picnic, the hampers and the clothes certainly took some doing, not least because I chose to work in oils, with multiple layers which needed to dry before adding the next. Nonetheless, the work was a joy to paint, because Manet’s original provided a template, but not a precise blueprint which meant that I could really explore my own imagination when interpreting the original.

Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe (after Manet) 2012 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, Oil on canvas

As a result, my luncheon is on the grass, but the Norms have a picnic blanket to give them more comfort. Meanwhile the picnic itself is a more civilised affair. Manet’s basket of food is replaced by two hampers from the premium Piccadilly department store, Fortnum and Masons, while the spread of food on offer ranges from traditional pork pies and scotch eggs to a seafood platter, sardines and a cheese board, as well as a number of sweet treats. To drink, the Norms enjoy a bottle of Veuve Clicquot while in the hamper behind them, a flask of earl grey tea lies ready and waiting.

Because I made something of a feature of the picnic in the centre of the canvas, I decided to replace Manet’s spilling basket on the left of the canvas with a spilling Chanel handbag set amongst the nude female’s discarded clothing. Naturally, as well as a compact and nail varnish, the Norm’s handbag contents also include a much needed Oyster travel card, perfectly balancing the canvas with the real oysters within the seafood platter. A pair of Chanel sunglasses and a discarded bra add even more sex-chic to the scene (and yes, Norms do appear to have breasts!).

There are plenty of details in this painting, so below I include a gallery of detail shots for you to enjoy. And with this I leave you to feast your eyes upon this new Luncheon on the Grass, the latest interpretation of a painting which will continue to inspire throughout this next Millennium.

: The “bather”

: My Norm nude – with breasts!

: Yellow tulips, to balance out the colour of the sky

: Trees above a rippling pond

: The seafood platter, a victoria sponge and oranges

: A little parakeet, replacing Manet’s flying bird at the top of his canvas

: Jelly and cheese for dessert

: Thirst quenching champagne and a traditional pork pie

: Fortnum and Masons Hamper with bread, grapes, apples and cherries

: Fortnum and Masons picnic crockery set

: The Norms’ discarded clothes and handbag

: Sweet treats and sardines

: The boat and tulips

Persistently mysterious; indubitable genius: Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe (normsonline.wordpress.com)

Mar 14

3 Comments

Persistently mysterious; indubitable genius: Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe

It’s a mystery to us all. Just why would a naked woman be sitting with two clothed men in the middle of the forest? Are they not hot? Is she not cold? Why is there an uneaten picnic, and why does the background look so flat, almost like stage scenery? What is the woman in the background doing and why is the woman in the foreground looking at us with such fervour?

Ever since it’s sensational first appearance at the Salon des Refuses in 1863, Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe (luncheon on the grass) by Edouard Manet has given rise to a relentless stream of questions and comparatively few answers. While it’s meaning and narrative might have been profoundly unclear to contemporary audiences, what it did do was shock and inspire in equal measure from the first moment of its appearance. It disgraced the reserved Parisian audiences of the 1863 Salon des Refuses, spurred on by a sensational outcry in the press, outraged to see a shockingly unapologetic female nude staring out at the audience so audaciously and mixing with fully clothed civilised gentlemen. But in equal measure it inspired: It was art for art’s sake – not retelling a classical mythological tale as was common at the time – this was a large canvas reserved for every day life. It was a work which exposed the artist’s active hand through visible brush strokes and a hastily composed background. It was a nude woman whose every crease and curve was unflatteringly exposed, ending the previous hypocritical use of nudes as a representation of deity in all their smooth perfection – here was a real woman, with folds of flab and an unwavering gaze. Unsurprising then that this painting became the touchstone of a new impressionist movement, a movement of artists who would circle around Le Déjeuner’s maker, Manet, making him their leader, a movement which would change the course of art history forever.

Le Déjeuner sur l'herbe by Edouard Manet (1863)

No surprise then that despite the initial outcry caused by the image, Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe has gone on to inspire countless generations of artists, and has become an artistic icon of our times. The work has always been one of my favourites of the (pre-)impressionist era, and I too have been inspired to recreate the scene in my own individual way (and yes, it involves Norms!). I’ll be unveiling my finished work tomorrow, but before I do, it seems only appropriate that the original work and those works which have followed in its shadow should be separately analysed, not least because of the sheer number of artists who have been similarly inspired by the work.

The Judgement of Paris by Marcantonio Raimondi (c.1510-20)

However, before looking at the subsequent reinventions of the work, it is interesting to note the possible sources of Manet’s inspiration as he set about painting this work. It is now thought that Manet was at least partly inspired by two works which would have been staple masterpieces of his time. The first is The Judgment of Paris by Marcantonio Raimondi (above). The engraving, which itself was based on a work by Raphael and copies of which would have been widely distributed at the time Manet set to work on Le Déjeuner includes a familiar composition in the bottom right hand corner. Here, a water nymph and two river gods are sat on the ground watching the judgment of Paris in poses which are exactly reminiscent of the poses adopted in Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe. It may well have been that when deciding to reference these poses, Manet was making a purposeful reference to the judgment of Paris as being like the judgment of paintings submitted to the Salon, the annual open art exhibition of Paris for which Manet’s work, as with every other artist’s work in Paris at that time, was intended. For Manet, it was important to be accepted by the unforgiving group of Salon judges, but only on his terms. Therein lay the difficulty. Nudes were very popular at the time, generally as mythological characters, and it is possible that in painting his very realistic confrontational nude, Manet was both aiming to please the Salon, while also sticking a finger up at their traditions – giving with one hand, and taking away with the other. As for Manet’s decision to mix his nude with clothed male characters, it is likely that Manet took inspiration from Pastoral Concert (c.1510) attributed to Titian and a gem of the Louvre collection. Here two contemporaneously clothed men are joined by two naked nymphs – but this was excusable being that the nymphs were inherently and permanently naked.

Pastoral Concert, attributed to Titan or Giorgione (Louvre Paris) c.1510

Here an interesting point arises. In subsequent xrays of Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe, it has been revealed that the pile of clothes on the left of the scene was actually a last minute addition by Manet. It is therefore highly possible that in first painting the scene, he wished to conform with Salon standards by painting two contemporaneously dressed men being visited by a classical nymph, or two (and thus representing an up-to-date reinvention of the Titian work). It was only towards the completion of his work, perhaps realising that despite his coarse brush stroked finish and striking pose of the nude, his work was not going far enough to be innovative and daring, that he decided to add the discarded clothes, thus transforming the nude from a nymph into an everyday woman (it is highly possible he would have added the light chiffon clothing to the woman in the background at the same time). In adding these clothes, Manet transforms the entire tenor of the piece, from mythological pleasantry into a scene of social scandal, as ladies of the time would have recognised the nude as a prostitute consorting with well-bred gentlemen, while the gentlemen in the audience would have undoubtedly felt judged and debased by the direct unwavering gaze of the nude as if to say: “remember me? I’m the one you had behind your wife’s back in Montmartre last night”.

Mar 13

5 Comments

The Daily Norm: Proud winner of three new blogging awards

It may be award season in the glitzy world of film, but here on WordPress, it appears that bloggers alike have become festooned with an abundantly generous spirit in not only reading The Daily Norm, but nominating it for three separate awards. In the last few weeks I have been humbled and overawed by the kindness and generosity of the following bloggers who each nominated me for a different blogging award:

Jackie Paulson for the Hope Unites Globally “HUG” Award

Anonparis for the Versatile Blogger Award

Joy Returns for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award

And since on WordPress, nominations mean an instantaneous win of the award in question, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank those bloggers, and indeed all of my followers, for your amazing loyalty and interest in my blog. The Daily Norm takes a surprising amount of time to write and compile, quite asides from the time spent in painting new Norm works and making Norm sketches especially to share with you all. But your “likes”, comments and now totally unexpected awards make it all worth it. Since starting the blog back in November last year, I’ve had an incredible 38,000 hits and now have over 250 followers. It’s been an amazing start, and the blog provides me with an undeniably precious outlet for my creativity in a world, and indeed a city (London) where the creative spirit can become so easily subdued by the humdrum of ordinary life. Thank you all therefore for giving me a reason to blog. Long may it continue!

Now all of the three awards have slightly different approaches to what I am supposed to do upon receipt. All three require me to reveal certain hitherto unknown facts about myself, and to nominate other bloggers for these awards. Well, I admit, I am going to cheat somewhat in combining my response to the three awards, but since I have already undertaken the full process once already (when I received a Versatile Blogger Award last year) I don’t want to bore you all with what could become a rambling autobiography! I have therefore decided to compile a list of some of my “favourite things” a la Sound of Music, and then I will nominate a few of my favourite bloggers for each award respectively.

My Favourite Things

Detail of the Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Favourite City – as regular followers of my blog will know, I am pretty much obsessed with Paris. But there is another city which fills my heart in equal measure – Barcelona. It’s a city which offers so much – a magnificent selection of modernist architecture from the likes of Antoni Gaudi, a picturesque gothic quarter, a vibrant fast-paced modern shopping district, a scenic port and a wide expansive beach – what more could you want, asides from great art, great restaurants and chic hotels, all of which Barcelona has in abundance.

Favourite Hotel – asides from the amazing Hotel Estheréa which was recently the highlight of my stay in Amsterdam, the other hotel which wowed was the EME Catedral Hotel in Seville. From it’s incredible situation bang opposite Seville’s gothic masterpiece cathedral, this hotel exudes moorish chic inside and out, with little pools of water covered with floating petals, contemporary bedroom decor and a pool-topped roof terrace to die for.

Favourite Café – It’s got to be Cappuccino Grand Café, either one of their picturesque Mallorca branches, or the stunningly situated branch in Marbella.

Favourite Restaurant – Again in Marbella – Restaurante Messina – a place exuding style – its degustacion menu presents an evening full of culinary delight but not at back-breaking prices.

Favourite Artist – This isn’t an easy question, and as an artist myself, it’s one I get asked fairly frequently. I think it has to be Salvador Dali, whose works are so technically brilliant, but whose incredibly comprehensive imagination pervades all of his works giving them a superb originality which hasn’t, in my opinion, been topped since. Generally speaking, my favourite artists tend to emanate from Spain (I also adore El Greco and Velazquez) although self-trained Henri Rousseau is also a huge favourite.

Favourite Painting – Again, this is a difficult one to pin down, but I think if I was forced to choose, it would have to be Las Meninas by Velazquez (housed in Madrid’s El Prado)- an iconic work for all the right reasons, but it is only when you see it in person that you can appreciate the startling use of light and shadow, as well as a brilliant composition and superb characterisation. Second place probably goes to another star of Madird, Guernica, by Picasso, while third place has to be Bar at the Folies–Bergère by Manet, thankfully kept here in London.

Las Meninas, Velazquez (1656)

Favourite Icon – Frida Kahlo, self-trained Mexican artist, is a true inspiration to me, not least the way she used her art to channel her feelings of pain and despair throughout a lifetime of disability, always managing to look on the positives and create works out of pain which are still bursting with colour and vitality.

Favourite Food – White chocolate desserts

Favourite Drink – earl grey tea!

Favourite Music – lounge/jazz

Favourite Author – Carlos Ruiz Zafon – author of masterpieces such as Shadow of the Wind and Angels Game – I can’t wait for his next work to be published!

And the award goes to…

HUG Award

The HUG Award has very strict criteria as to what kind of blogs deserve this award. My nomination goes to Joy Returns – this is a very touching blog which seeks to change people’s perception of widows. It certainly seems to unite hope globally, and therefore seems highly suitable for this nomination.

Versatile Blogger Award

I would like to nominate the following excellent blogs which I follow regularly

MJ Springett – nature photohrapher

Photobotos – an amazing new photo, everyday

Conceptual art – frequently reblogging the work of other artists, this is a great blog to visit regularly to see what’s going on in the wordpress art scene

Very Inspiring Blogger Award

These blogs have inspired me in my day to day life, so who better to nominate:

Beautiful hello – a beautiful blog about art

All About Lemon – a brilliant blog about all things creative

Enjoy my adventure – Norwegian designer, living in Portugal

And, finally, a superb non-wordpress blog written by my dear friend Celia: Lady Aga – a fantastic blog which places gastronomy where it ought to be – straight in our hearts. Check it out!

Ok this rambling thank you speech is now at an end. Heartfelt hanks again to all of my followers and nominators and congratulations to those I have nominated above – your blogs are fully deserving of recognition.

Mar 12

Night at the Opera: The Death of Klinghoffer

I had a good week last week, managing to squeeze in two exhibitions, a ballet and opera. Well, it’s all a bit like London buses really – you wait for ages and none come along; then when one comes, three follow immediately behind. So it was that last Friday night, I rounded off the week with a chance visit to go to the Opera – I say chance because I stumbled across a very generous online deal which enabled me to get prize seats at the London Coliseum at a fraction of the proper price. It was therefore in two minds that I went along on Friday – on one hand it’s always great to see an opera, whatever that opera may be, but on the other hand, this mega online deal coupled with a decided lack of sell out status made me a little concerned that the show I was going to see wouldn’t even be worth the £25 I had paid. But there was no need for concern.

The opera was The Death of Klinghoffer, brought to us by the English National Opera, a performance which marks 21 years since the controversial opera was written by John Adams, but which has never before been performed in London, despite having originally received the backing of the likes of Glyndebourne opera. The reason for the reticence on the part of the UK’s opera companies to put on the opera is because of the controversy surrounding its depiction and narrative. The opera focuses on the fractious relationship between Israelites and Palestinians, with the 1985 hijacking of the Achille Lauro cruise liner by four members of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation as its linchpin. Such is the apparent controversy that protests were expected on opening night – and protests they had, albeit just one lone man with a small placard. The truth is, this opera, written by John Adams, isn’t really overly controversial. It’s more of a docu-opera, relaying the story of the cruise liner’s hijacking with its dramatic and fatal ending, and in doing this, it is like the most popular opera by Puccini or Wagner. In relaying the story of the hijacking, it attempts to explore, to some degree, the historical background behind the tensions in Israel. But both sides are given an opportunity to express their point of view, as a chorus of Palestinian exiles metamorphose seamlessly into a chorus of Jewish exiles, each singing about their respective grievances, the misery of being caught in a relentless religious and political territorial battle. To some extent, the Palestinian voice predominates, but then the hijackers were Palestinian, and therefore it is unsurprising that their story comes over stronger. Past criticism has been levelled at the opera’s humanising of the Palestinian terrorists. Nonetheless there is no reason why humanising the story of the terrorists should cause offence. Rather, it helps us, the onlooker, to better understand the motivations behind a terrorist in an age when terrorist atrocities are alive and kicking.

Rather than cause offence in its depiction of this contemporary struggle, the opera was informative as well as emotionally engaging. As a documentary, the opera was a real eye-opener into the Israeli crisis – while I have been constantly aware of the tensions throughout my life, I have never really sought to analyse, in any detail, the routes of the problem. While this opera undertook something of a superficial narrative of the background conflict (a scene from the original score which explored the history deeper had been cut out by the ENO’s production) it nevertheless focused the mind on the complexities of the historical fractions, the religious conflict and the political input which has incrementally shaped and augmented the tensions. As a tragic story, the opera was marvellously engaging. The most successful element was the score, masterfully composed with a continuous clash of emotional discordant chromatic melodies, whose pace and melodical form seemed to relentlessly crescendo rather than develop predictably towards a climax, leaving the audience sitting on the edge of their seats, perfectly resonating the feeling of interminable tension and terror which must have been felt by the passengers of the Achille Lauro when the liner was hijacked off the coast of Egypt.

Successful too was the use of the scenery to mirror the intensity of emotional pull, with versatile concrete panels being used at the backdrop to cruise-liner projections at one moment, and then, at the climax of the opera, closing in on one of the leads, Marilyn Klinghoffer (played by Michaela Martens) as she was told that her husband, Leon Klinghoffer (played by Alan Opie) had been killed by the terrorists, and his body (and wheelchair) dumped overboard. As the news of the murder begins to sink in, and the score reaches levels of of devastating chromatic intensity, the large concrete walls start to close in on Marilyn, decreasing the space around her as she desperately searches the barren concrete surfaces for an opening, a way out – a powerful metaphor for that moment of devastating tragedy, when you receive the worst possible news and seek any possible escape from this new, tragic reality.

But for me, the real star of the Opera was the chorus, playing both Palestinian and Jewish exiles. Countless singers harmonised together to deliver with spine tingling intensity, effectively projecting Palestinian discontent as the anguish of mourners develops into the blinded anger of militants, while amongst the Jewish exiles, a deep melancholy transforms gradually into hope as lost generations start to build a new future within Israel, as represented by the gradual addition of one olive tree after another across the stage. I was equally moved though by a scene in which the youngest of the terrorists, at merely 17, was recollecting an encounter with his mother, where, with chilling fervency, she told him that the only place for him was to enter Paradise through an act of jihad, thus prompting him to perform the murder after which the opera gains its name.

On the downside was the libretto, by Alice Goodman, often vague and very repetitive, and generally a little too slow. At one point, one of the terrorist was listing every bird he had ever seen – the melody he was singing suggested a dramatic speech which was central to his motivations as a hijacker. However the libretto seemed to belong to another story entirely. Goodman did however redeem herself through the dramatic declarations of the chorus, and through the highly resonant small-talk babble of the terrified passengers as they tried to take their mind off the terror all around them. While their words were practically meaningless, they added realism and tension to the scene, facilitating the narrative as a true reflection of this time of human terror.

There is no doubting the fact that this opera deals with sensitive issues which are perhaps even more alive today, post 9/11, 3/11 and 7/7, than they were when the work was first written. But it is refreshing to see a new opera which successfully utilises the perfectly versatile, inherently dramatic medium of opera to narrate a story of contemporary relevance. Seeing the same old Mozart or Puccini is all very well, but what lessons can really be learnt from these tales for the modern day?

Mar 11

4 Comments

Sunday Supplement: La Foret des Jeux / Q4- exploring the subconscious

A sunday supplement focusing on my non-Norm paintings is well overdue I think, and for this weekend’s supplement, I have decided to go with a painting which I created in 2007/8 following something of a recurrent dream. It’s a work which is magical and jovial, surreal and fantastical, and therefore a perfect follow up to the Royal Ballet’s superb performance of The Dream which I saw last Monday.

The works featured today were painted within a short space of one another when I was exploring my subconscious. There are two “places” on which I constantly reflect in my subconscious and as an artist seeking inspiration. Both are imaginary. One is a kind of chic but dilapidated house, quite dark, with heavy damask wall coverings, low lighting, lavish furnishings and a general air of mysterious desertion about it. Out of the window is a city landscape – rooftops – almost certainly Paris, and the weather is bleak, probably autumn, dark. This place is triggered in my imagination by certain things – cool lounge music such as Hotel Costes often does the trick. Often there is no trigger at all – I just find myself transformed there in the middle of a working day. I tried to represent this place in my 2007 canvas, Q4. As with any attempt to drag the subconscious level into everyday language, the task was difficult, and while the painting comes close to creating that place to which my mind wanders, it cannot fully represent the feeling I have when I escape into the realms of my deepest imagination.

The second place I constantly return to in my subconscious is a dark forest on a summer’s night. The forest is full of surreal things, semi-hidden signs of life and a small source of water. It’s a little scary but not intimidating – the forest is hung with paper lanterns, and forest creatures provide a welcome atmosphere to me – the visitor. In seeking to paint this whimsical vision on canvas in La Foret des Jeux (the Forest of Games), I played on the surreal themes which I knew were weaved into my own imaginings. I imported the theme of games – as I had done in previous surreal paintings – and no doubt inspired by the likes of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. I anthropomorphised chess pieces bringing life to the scene – showing the King sitting upon a thrown, the Bishop falling from a tipped bath of water, and the Queen picnicking with her playing Pawn children. There onwards I let my imagination run wild, making for a rather surreal but playful image. It was painted at a time when my imagination was ripe for the picking – I’m not so sure I could paint something like this today.

Wishing you a relaxed and enjoyable Sunday.

Sunday Supplement: Road Traffic Control (normsonline.wordpress.com)
Sunday Supplement: The Seville Triptych (normsonline.wordpress.com)
Sunday Supplement: Christmas Double (normsonline.wordpress.com)
Sunday Supplement: Nordic Chills (normsonline.wordpress.com)
Sunday Supplement: The Sweet Potato Eaters (normsonline.wordpress.com)

Mar 9

5 Comments

Next train stop: The National Gallery (aka waiting room/ hang out/ free for all)

I had a free hour between meetings the other day – no point in heading home only to turn around again (always best to avoid the Northern line, whatever time of the day) so I decided to head into London’s preeminent art space, The National Gallery. One of the pulls of the gallery is the fact that it’s free. It means that you can drop in and out as many times as you like and therefore digest the large collection more easily. Nevertheless, it seems that charging no entry has proved to be one pull too many for the many visitors to the Gallery.

Walking into the National felt very much like walking into one of London’s busiest train terminuses. People were rushing about all over the place. Huge groups were gathered in the foyer, others were walking around, luggage in tow, some were on the phone, others having animated conversation. I put this down to its being a foyer – a meeting place for the masses who have toured the galleries or are about to. But to my consternation, once I began to walk around the galleries, I found the situation to be the same even in the farthest of rooms from the entrance. The galleries seemed to act as a thoroughfare for all and everyone in London. There was a constant feeling of unease and stress as the breeze of countless individuals and large groups rushing through the galleries pervaded the air. Meanwhile, all of the seats in the centre of the galleries would be loaded with people who appeared to have been getting cosy there for sometime. I saw people listening to ipods, half asleep. Others reading books, magazines, newspapers. People were chatting, catching up. Others were sat down, eyes to the floor or on their watch, looking bored to tears. Plenty were texting, others speaking on the phone. Most importantly, only 1 in every 25 people who were in the galleries seemed to take any interest in the art on show whatsoever!

For those, like me, who are interested in the wonderful art on show, all this made for a distracting experience. Appreciating art requires a tranquil calm environment, free from distractions. How else can one enter the world which the artist has created, to consider the artist’s motives, his feelings, emotions and the story being narrated on canvas. Trying to appreciate art here was akin to analysing a Rubens hanging in the midst of a busy underground platform.

Busy impressionist gallery at the National Gallery - but at least here some people are looking at the paintings!

The press has recently applauded the increase in visitor numbers to London galleries. The increase, it is said, has been credited to the move of the Labour Government (i.e. the government whose policies ruined most things in the UK) to make the majority of London galleries and museums free back in 2001. It’s a move which has since been adopted by the coalition government, and money is put aside to subsidise the participating institutions who otherwise lose out on the admission fee.

Don’t get me wrong – open access to art is a wonderful thing. Art has a power like nothing else to enrich lives, to enable escapism to another world, to brighten a day, to enhance emotions. And the freer the access the better. The problem is, no one in the National Gallery seemed to even bother with the paintings. For them, the space was a place to hang out, to rest their feet, to chat with friends, to escape the winter weather. And for those of us who do appreciate art, that was a real distraction.

Saint Sebastian by Gerrit van Honthorst (c.1623)

The National Gallery’s collection is superb. I went along to see Velazquez’s Rokeby Venus having recently painted my own Norm piece devoted to the work. But asides from this, a look round just a few galleries introduced me to some wonderful new lesser known pieces of which I had no prior knowledge. Take Saint Sebastian by Gerrit van Honthorst – what a superb painting. St Sebastian is ever the romantic icon – a beautiful matyr who pulls at the heart strings of his viewer. This sensitive portrayal beautifully captures the moment of his ultimate torment. The soft supple depiction of his well toned flesh contrasts to devastating effect with the violence of the arrows piercing it, blood staining the peachy tones of his perfect skin. And what about Willem Kalf’s Still Life with Drinking Horn. Still lifes may be potentially a bit “past it” but the skill of this piece is astonishing, the lobster painted with startling precision, it’s ruby red shell tantalising all the senses, while the portrayal of horn, glass and drapery shows that the artist’s skills can be turned to any material or texture.

Still Life with Drinking Horn by Willen Kalf

Rokeby Venus, slashed by Mary Richardson in 1914

For me, when a gallery becomes a thorough fare, the magnificence of its art is somehow degraded – not given the respect it deserves. This feeling is increased by the lack of security at the gallery – no bag checks at the entrance, no security gates, and security guards who are present but wouldn’t realistically be able to prevent an attack on a painting – only catch the perpetrator. Has the National Gallery not learnt from past lessons then, such as the devastating attack on the Rokeby Venus at the hands of a suffragette, “Slasher Mary” in 1914? The scars are still visible on the great Venus for all to see. By contrast in Paris, at the Louvre, the d’Orsay, the Pompidou, you cannot enter those galleries without full scale security checks, and of course an admission fee. The result is that the paintings are given the respect they deserve – as masterpieces of the nation.

A difficult debate ensues. Should art be made free to the nation and if so, how can you stop abuse by those who take very little interest in the art on show, or whose interest is laced with violent intentions? I think a security check, at the very least, should be installed, and bags, phones, ipods should not be allowed. Free access should be encouraged, but these paintings must be given the respect they deserve, or the ghosts of all those unhappy artists, turning in their graves, will surely haunt us forever.

Norms do… the Rokeby Venus (normsonline.wordpress.com)

Mar 8

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Simple floral display which makes a contemporary statement

The good thing about a small city trip in a vibrant city is that with the relatively moderate expense of a short trip, so much can be loaded into a short expanse of time that the trip provides all of the ingredients for a sustained period of inspiration and multifaceted memories which live on indefinitely. My recent trip to Amsterdam is one such trip which was worth its weight in gold. Already I’ve been painting Dutch-inspired parody pieces, sketching Norms all over The Netherlands, regularly revisiting my substantial collection of photographs and I am about to embark on a suitably Amsterdam-inspired new Norm canvas. However, one of the greatest inspirations for me was the elegance and sumptuosity of our Amsterdam hotel – the Hotel Estheréa. The interior design of the hotel was faultless both in the downstairs public spaces and in the bedrooms. Since my return, I have scanned the web seeking out the various grand design wallpapers used, the beautiful butterflies which adorned their walls, and am seriously considering whether I too should import an oversized pink chandelier into my home. All of this comes at a price I can currently only dream of, however one important aspect of their design, which I have found cheaper to replicate, is their stunning floral displays. The hotel paid attention to every tiny detail, and during our stay, a fresh import of new flowers were installed throughout the hotel (presumably they do this on a fairly regular basis). One of the most effective displays of flowers, installed variously on several large and small tables alike, was the grouping of numerous small and single-stem vases, each containing one or two stems only. The look which resulted was far more contemporary than a normal vase of flowers.

So, returning home to London, my head buzzing with ideas, I set about searching out a variety of single-stem vases. To collect a small group of 6 or 7 would, I soon discovered, cost well over £100 and involve as many separate orders and correlating shipping charges as I would find vases. So I decided to revert my search to glass bottles. I then found one website which sells a huge range of different shaped bottles, all costing only around €2-€3 each. And so I managed to purchase myself some 14 different shaped and sized bottles, all from the same site, for a total cost of €30 including shipping. They arrived a couple of days later. I bought two cheap(ish) bunches of roses from the local supermarket (which are in plentiful supply at the moment in the lead up to mother’s day). This is the result:

The look is contemporary and fresh. The differently shaped bottles add variety, but the use of a monochrome clear coloured glass ensures a contemporary feel is maintained. The display also feels modern because the flowers are controlled, all standing up straight rather than flopping around en masse in a vase. This control is even better achieved using bottles, since most have a fairly narrow opening.

It’s a great look for my dining table, and one that really wows as a contemporary floral display with a very boutique-chic look. But best of all, the price was definitely not boutique.

Talking of contemporary, check out my other recent acquisition – white crocuses set in an attractive metal box adorned with french writing. This brings gallic finesse to an otherwise industrial tin, while the yet unopened crocuses provide another modern sleek display piece which I kind of wish wouldn’t flower at all.

In conclusion, Spring is on its way, and in my opinion, there is no better way to breath a bit of life into your home that with fresh flowers, however displayed. Give flowers to your mother this sunday – and if you’re not a mother, remember to keep some back for yourself!

Amsterdam Part IV: The Hotel and the Restaurants (normsonline.wordpress.com)

Mar 7

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The Daily Sketch: Norms (attempting to) do ballet

Ballet fever is in the air, well at least in my house, following Monday night’s Royal Ballet double bill spectacular The Dream/ Song of the Earth. Which got me thinking, what would happen if Norms danced the ballet? Well, the limitations are rather obvious. Unlike the sculpted muscular form of the human dancers, the use of which was applied to startling artistic effect in Song of the Earth, Norms are just blobby. This is fine for bouncing across the stage, and with one arm and wide eyes, they can even add a little dramatic expression into their dance. But as far as en pointe goes, the best a Norm can do is try to make themselves pointed… though the trouble then is they begin to resemble a spinning top rather than a ballerina, and we know what happens to the spinning top once it comes to the end of its revolutions. Oh well, you can’t say that the Norms don’t try. Here they are in the attempt, complete with a melodious Norm orchestra and a energetic Norm-ballet lift.