Posts tagged ‘Art’

Mar 25

Autobiographical Mobile: My painting diary – Day 17: Travel/ Gastronomy

After what felt like months of working and reworking the Mallorcan beach background of my latest large-scale painting, my Autobiographical Mobile, I have finally started to complete some of the finer details of the work and find myself galloping into the final stretch (albeit over the hurdles which are inexorably cast into my path by a full-time job working in the law). Those details are, arguably, the most important sections of the painting, as they are the series of symbols and metaphors which hang from a large Calder-style mobile representing a biography of my life. On one side, the mobile balances my great loves and passions, on the other, the black spots and bad experiences I have encountered and, in some cases, which continue to cast their dark shadow over my life.

Over the last few days, I have concentrated on the jocular manifestation of my life’s favourite things, the section of the painting which reads a bit like the song from The Sound of Music. Of the four symbols hanging on the positive side of the mobile, the first I tackled was my symbol of travel and gastronomy. I should start by explaining that each of my symbols have a double meaning, encompassing at least two of my passions (and therefore giving the metaphors more complexity and freeing up space on the canvas). As regular readers of The Daily Norm will have noticed, I am inexcusably fond of both travel, and of food (both cooking, and of course, of eating) and particularly enjoy both pursuits when they have something of a Spanish flavour.

Progress on my travel/ gastronomy metaphor…

Representing both passions therefore, I have painted a bottle of sun-cream. It has a high protection level (30) which also happens to be my impending next birthday-age. On the bottle, the word “vacaciones” which is Spanish for “holidays” is suitably branded, surrounded by sun-rays (I’m quite pleased with this – I clearly should have been a brand designer!). Squirting from the bottle, the sun-cream becomes edible cream which itself swathes around two juicy strawberries – a representation of fresh, ripe summery food. The cream, graduating downwards, becomes a pinker marie-rose sauce, which in turn accompanies some succulent prawns. These in turn are accompanied by two slices of my favourite of all meats – Spanish chorizo sausage (chorizo and prawns are often to be found together in a great big pan of Spanish paella) and the chorizo is in turn doused in a delicious red wine (thus making the popular tapas dish, Chorizo al Vino) which has metamorphosed out of the marie-rose sauce. The final item on the flurry of food then is wine, as ever a subject of my most tender affection, and represented by an energetic splash and a wine bottle cork. All of this falls into a Fortnum and Mason’s picnic hamper (an icon of my favourite London department store), whose basket twine starts to unravel, curling like a piece of spaghetti around the food suspended above it.

It’s a rather complex image, but I have always had a penchant for images which metamorphose, as one object becomes another, and an image builds in complexity and entendre. Check out the third painting of my 2005 Joie de Vivre series for example. Amongst the metamorphoses there are harbour lights which become pearls which become buoys floating in the water, and rain which becomes snow which becomes ice cream.

Joie de Vivre/ Zest of Life 3: Casino Nights (2005 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, acrylic on canvas)

As much of the current painting deals with my life, it’s unsurprising that many of my symbols which make direct reference back to my past body of art work. In painting the sun-cream bottle, for example, I make direct reference to my 2009 painting, Souvenir of Spain, which deals with the tourist stereotypes of my favourite country. Amongst them is the general consensus of the ignorant British tourists that Spain is all about “sea, sand, sex and sangria” hence the symbols of sunbathing which permeate the piece. Here’s that painting and some detailed shots of the work, including, as you will see, my previous depiction of Spanish cuisine, namely the iconic paella, a fodder of Spanish tourist haunts all over the world, and which here is painted inside of a bullfighting ring.

Souvenir of Spain (2009 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)

This image also references back to my Norm depiction of Manet’s Le Dejeuner sur l’Herbe, and the two Fortnum and Mason’s hampers I included in that fine picnicking piece. For me the idea of being out in the summer warmth, feasting of the grass out of a decadent Fortnum’s hamper is amongst the most pleasant of all thoughts. Ironically I have never owned a Fortnum’s hamper (they’re not cheap…) but my ambition to get my hands on one (preferably a full one!) lives on. Maybe as a present to myself when this large painting is finally complete?

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

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

The Norms’ discarded clothes and handbag

Up next time… My art and my adored Paris.

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography 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.

Autobiographical Mobile: My painting diary – Day 16 and a half: The Caravan (daily-norm.com)
Autobiographical Mobile: My painting diary – Day 16: Water reflection and Enid (daily-norm.com)

Mar 19

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Manet: Not exhibited in his lifetime

Glancing through the current Manet retrospective, Manet: Portraying Life, at the Royal Academy, there is one consistent feature which is perhaps even more noticeable that the works themselves: How many of the paintings are labelled “Not displayed in his lifetime”. Why the Royal Academy is so insistent on spelling this out with such apparent alacrity is unclear. But what it demonstrates is that the majority of works comprising this so called “first ever retrospective devoted to the portraiture of Edouard Manet” are what I call “filler works” – paintings which are either unfinished or merely preparations for other works, and none of which the artist had ever intended to be exhibited for public consumption.

It is therefore with some unease that I looked upon these works, which the Royal Academy tries to pass off as paintings worthy of the not insignificant £15 entry-price, the cynic inside me recognising that what we have here is merely a means by which a show that, fundamentally, consists of one room’s worth of finished and accomplished works, is padded out to fill a much bigger space. And even that space is not filled particularly well.

Music in the Tuleries Gardens (1862)

In the second large gallery, for example, the Royal Academy make the slightly unfathomable decision to present Music in the Tuleries all on its own, spotlight upon it, surrounded only by blank walls. I could understand this kind of hang for a masterpiece such as Le Dejeuner sur l’Herbe, which almost single handedly changed the history of art (and sadly lacking from this show), but for this painting? Sure enough, it’s a skilled group painting, giving us a very realistic snapshot of modern day life one sunny afternoon, lacking in the previous contrived composition of the grand historical paintings which were favoured in the time Manet painted it. But the Royal Academy do not succeed in making any significant point worthy of this solo hang. And what’s worse, this painting belongs to London’s National Gallery, so visitors can normally walk up and see the painting whenever they like, without the crowds attracted to the RA, and for free.

But this was not the worse of it. The following gallery was hung, not with paintings, but with a chronology of Manet’s life, and a desk on which copies of the exhibition catalogue could be surveyed – why exactly I’m not sure: after all, isn’t it better to look at the paintings themselves when you have them in front of you?

Unfinished: Portrait of Carolus Duran (1876)

But asides from the unpalatable cheek with which the RA filled it’s space and passed off the show as a great survey of Manet’s career, I also felt a deep sense of unease, not as a punter, but as an artist – because so many of these works are so clearly unfinished, unprepared for public consumption. I can imagine Manet now, turning in his grave, horrified at the prospect of these unfinished preparations being gazed at and criticised as though they were finished works. And all for the sake of a buck or too.

Portrait of M. Antonin Proust (1880)

The Luncheon (1868)

Madame Manet in the Conservatory (1879)

Emile Zola (1868)

All that said, the finished works which are on show are masterful Manet’s, apt demonstrations of the artist’s skill at capturing real life, real characters and a sense of the time in which he painted. You get the portrait of M. Antonin Proust (not to be confused with the acclaimed author) – a dandy about town, a man proud and professional in his polished appearance; then there’s Suzanne Leenhoff (later Madame Manet), sat, happily contented in the garden of Manet’s home, her cheeks rosy and her gaze tranquil.

Then of course there’s Manet’s most infamous sitter of all: Victorine Meurent, who gets a whole gallery to herself in this show. While sadly, and very obviously lacking the two great masterpieces of Manet’s oeuvre in which she features (Le Dejeuner sur l’Herbe (although the Courtaulds inferior and much smaller copy is here) and Olympia), the paintings which are on show present the model with the confidence and audacity which must have attracted the artist to her – the wiley stare, straight out of the canvas, almost judging, daring the viewer to respond. Then there’s Victorine dressed as a street-seller, an accomplished character portrait in which the cherries held to her mouth appear almost as a provocation, a subliminal message inviting us to read a story into her steely gaze, as well as the wonderful Railway portrait, in which the railings adjoining the railway appear to take centre stage, and the air of noisy, smoky, modern industry appears oddly juxtaposed with the apparent calm and tranquillity of Victorine and her sleeping puppy.

Street Singer (1862)

The Railway (1883)

As a Manet lover (need I remind you of my Norm version of both Manet’s Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe and my juxtaposed Manet character Norms sat in Cappuccino Grand Café ?) I was of course familiar with many of the few finished works on show. But one thing that I took out of the show which I had not fully appreciated before was just how influenced Manet had been by Spanish art. Taking a trip to Spain, organised by Zacharie Astruc who’s portrait is also on display, Manet was very quickly inspired by Velazquez, who he saw as a master of painting black in all its surprising variety of shades, as well as other greats such as Goya and Ribera. Following on from this, one can really start to see the Spanish influence infiltrating into Manet’s work. Take the portrait of Rouviere as Hamlet for example, and look how it compares to this portrait by Velazquez. Then of course there’s the portrait of Victorine in the costume of an Espada, again sadly not included in the exhibition, an a portrait of Emilie Ambre as Spain’s favourite operatic diva, Carmen. As an artist much inspired by the Spanish golden age of art, I am well able to understand the effect that Spanish art must have had on Manet, helping him to surge forward as the revolutionary artist he was, in a claustrophobic French art scene which had yet to be struck by the poignancy of Spanish art.

Portrait of Zacharie Astruc (1866)

Diego Velazquez, The Jester Pablo de Valladoid (1635)

The Tragic Actor (Rouviere as Hamlet) 1865

Victorine Meurent in the costume of an Espada (1862)

Spanish influence: Emilie Ambre as Carmen (1880)

Of course it is difficult for us, well informed of the contemporary art which followed, to understand just how revolutionary Manet was as an artist, painting in the age when grand history paintings and allegorical images were all the rage. His paintings were so real, so unpretentious a snapshot of the life and the world around him, that many gallery goers took to attacking his paintings with umbrellas. Yet still Manet ploughed on, forging the path which impressionists and expressionists and the whole world of modern art pursued in his wake. This exhibition does not make any statement half so bold as the mighty oeuvre of Manet in itself, but putting asides the unfinished sketches, and concentrating on the completed masterpieces, those works of Manet which are on show are easily strong enough to make an impression all by themselves.

Manet: Portraying Life is on at the Royal Academy until 14 April 2013.

Brian Sewell on Manet: Portraying Life, Royal Academy (standard.co.uk)

Mar 6

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Valencia (x) – Photography Focus 4: Favourite shots

Is it any surprise that when I struggle into the London tube every morning, my personal space reduced to a bare millimetre minimum, struggling to breathe against the handbag digging into my ribs, that I immerse myself in a world of Spanish rhythms, that I listen to the clap and wail and melancholic guitar of flamenco in my ears, and that I daydream of Spanish plazas, of old town streets, of sunshine and long shadows, of the sparkling droplets of a fountain’s eruption suspended in mid aid, glinting in the sun? How can I fail to drink in every detail of the architectural splendour, the decadent charm, the warm sun-drenched colours and the almost unfathomable blue of a mediterranean sky when its very manifestation is like something from a vision of paradise?

Valencia is not unique in being so aesthetically rich, so inexorably inspirational that as an artist, and photographer, I was elevated to a new sense of creative freedom with every step I took in the city. In fact it is just one of many a Spanish city which has had such an effect on me. But as a city of so many facets, from the crumbling, baroque old centre to the lavishly innovative city of arts and sciences, Valencia is surely unique in the extent to which its visual appeal can extend. The proof is in the pudding: not only has the city inspired me to write some ten blog posts, each featuring a ripe selection of my photos and anecdotes, but across two cameras and my iPhone, I returned with some 1500 photographs after only 4 days of sightseeing, with barely any destined for the trash can.

It therefore comes with no surprise that as I end my Valencia series, I do so with so many photos left to explore, and hard choices to make as to which of those shots I feature in this, a miscellany of some of my favourite photos of the as-yet unpublished series. The final set, published in a gallery below, is as richly diverse as the city itself, from the minor details: rusting door knockers and cracking wood carvings, to the wider picture – the grand plazas, the ceramic blue domes, and the richly sculpted baroque facades. As with so many components that make up a city, so much beauty can be found in even the smallest details – whether it be the channels of bird poo which have run down the bronze sculptures of a grand fountain, or the cracks and staples in a plant pot.

You’ll notice that many of my favourite shots are from Valencia’s historic quarter. While the dazzling white architecture of Calatrava’s new architecture is visually alluring, there is very little, as a photographer, which one can do with these buildings, other than shoot them from various angles, reflected in the surrounding waters, and seen from close up and at a distance. Far more inspirational for me is age and histroy, the effect of time, and the continuation of rich traditions in the modern age. Take the fleeting glimpses I took of Valencian women in their traditional dress – was Valencia ever so perfectly represented as by those women in their ornate sashed dresses and peculiar elaborate headdresses?

But as ever, I could attempt to describe in words what could so easily be done in a photo. And of those there are plenty to share. I leave you then with this final selection of Valencia shots, and a big thank you for allowing me to share my Valencia trip with you. Being inspired is only one part of the creative process. Sharing it with others is where the ultimate satisfaction is realised. With thanks.

All photos and written content are strictly the copyright of Nicholas de Lacy-Brown © 2013 and The Daily Norm. All rights are reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography or artwork, included within The Daily Norm without express and written permission from The Daily Norm’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

Valencia (iii) – Photography Focus 1: Modernista architecture (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (vi) – Photography Focus 2: Wildlife and Wetlands (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (vii) – Photography Focus 3: A tale of two cities (daily-norm.com)

Mar 4

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Lichtenstein Retrospective: Artist or copyist, it’s a spot-acularly good show

Intrinsically linked with the school of Pop Art are a series of almost inevitable questions: Is a work which borrows from a pre-existing image original? Does it even matter? Can a painting of a can of soup, for example, the likes of which can be found on every supermarket shelf around the world, be described as having any artistic merit? And just how much creativity is required in order to call a representation of an object “art”?

No more so are these questions of relevance than when contemplating the work of American pop art supremo, Roy Lichtenstein (1923-1997), whose retrospective has just opened its doors at London’s Tate Modern gallery. Making it big when, in 1961 he imitated a cartoon of Disney’s Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck, by blowing up a single cartoon frame to life-size proportions and recreating it with oil paint on canvas, Lichtenstein shot to fame as the creator of zany bold paintings which almost exclusively borrowed either from comic books, or images of ordinary life (largely advertisement images in newspapers and magazines). Lichtenstein was unapologetic in taking the work of other cartoon illustrators and, with very few changes except for an increase in size and the occasional simplification of colour, recycling the images as his own (and then selling the canvas for equally increased sums).

Lichtenstein’s first pop-art image: Look Mickey (1961)

Inspired by adverts – Step-on can with leg (1961)

Alka Seltzer (1966)

And yet to describe Lichtenstein’s process in this way is itself a simplification of the facts. For in transferring print images to the realm of oil on canvas, Lichtenstein does something remarkable – he paints the amplified cartoon or advert so perfectly, including the Ben-Day dots (which was a printing process used to create the effect of colour mixing or dilution) and the black outlines, that he manages to remove almost any indication that this is the work of an artist. Contemporary audiences questioned the merit of doing this. In an age when abstract expressionists like Jackson Pollock had ruled the art world, the absence of any indication of the artist at work, whether through brush strokes or drips of paint, appeared devoid of emotional tangibility or expression. And yet in a way, wasn’t Lichtenstein just doing what had been done centuries before, by the great artists of Renaissance, Baroque and Napoleonic art for example, who painted so perfectly that not a single brush stroke was ever evident in their finished canvases?

To view Lichtenstein’s work as devoid of expression and artistic wit is to misunderstand his accomplishments as an artist. For even in his early works, which do predominantly borrow from comic strips, we see his humour as an artist choosing, and drawing our attention to, the more absurdly worded or amusing cartoons. In amplifying the macho airmen and apparently helpless, romantic and teary blondes of typical american comic books, Lichtenstein is subtly commenting on the stereotypes of the age, if not challenging them then poking fun at the very formulaic trajectory of a modern commercial society, all buying into the same clichés, and tempted by the same products and advertising.

Whaam (1963)

M-Maybe (1965)

We rose up slowly (1964)

Masterpiece (1962)

Yet there can be no doubting the trajectory of Lichtenstein’s own career as clearly evidenced by the helpfully chronologically curated exhibition. Having found his niche in a new pop art era, and very much made the world of the commercial image an artistic style all of his very own, with all the lines and Ben-Day dots that entailed, we see Lichtenstein go on to develop that style in a number of different contexts, expanding beyond the comic-book and advert to develop his own individual chapter in art history. As the years move on, we see Lichtenstein adopt the simple linear forms and carefully graduating colours of the art deco style, using his dots and lines adeptly to recreate the look and feel of that modernist era. Perhaps most effectively of all, we then see him use his own style to reimagine the work of great artists, like those artists had in turn done with the work of other artists before them. This was definitely my favourite section of the exhibition, as Lichtenstein used his unique pop-art style to reinvent works by Picasso, Mondrian and Matisse, to paint his own still-lifes including a brilliant cubism still life, and most technically brilliant of all, to pay homage to Monet’s various depictions of Rouen Cathedral, doing so with Ben-Day dots alone.

Frolic (1977)

Cubish still life (1974)

Rouen Cathedral (after Monet) (1969)

Having tackled art history, Lichtenstein next explores the genre of still-life, as well as depictions of an artist’s studio itself, again something which many artists have done before him. He also paints large scale depictions of rooms, with wonderfully simplified furniture, but always including a number a number of visual clues, generally in the paintings hung in the room, as to a deeper, often more personal tale he is attempting to tell.

Still life with goldfish (1972)

Artist’s Studio “The Dance” (1974)

Interior with Waterlilies (1991)

Reflections on Interior with a Girl Drawing

However perhaps the cleverest use of his lines and dots is when Lichtenstein goes on to paint mirrors and reflections. In his “reflections series” he paints recreations of old masterpieces by the likes of Picasso, but then fragments the image with a series of dot-created breaks or fissures interrupting the base depiction. These are intended to replicate the effect of light bouncing off an image when it is framed behind glass. In this way, Lichtenstein focuses not on the painting itself, but the direct effect of imagined environment upon that painting in its exhibited and glazed form.

Mirror no.1 (1969)

He takes this one step further by using dots to replicate the effect of a mirror, with the perhaps obvious irony that while we appear to be looking at a mirror, we see only a blank space rather than a reflection of our face staring back. In this respect Lichtenstein makes further reference to the simplified representation of glass and mirrors in the world of illustration rather than in the world of realistic representation.

Having taken the Ben-Day dot from its use as a printing technique and replicated it on canvas to suggest a process, rather than a painting, Lichtenstein then used those same dots to suggest light, reflection and shadow. Consequently when he returns to the depiction of cartoon-styled idealistic blonde women some 30 years after he first depicted them in his cartoon-strip canvases, Lichtenstein uses the dots not to suggest a printed colour process, but makes the dots the focus of the image in themselves, painting them now across the image, rather than within the various black lines of the figures illustrated, so the dots almost form a superficial overlay across the painting.

Torpedo…LOS! (1963)

Nudes with beach ball (1978)

Landscape with Philosopher (1996)

The Ben-Day dot was king in Lichtenstein’s work, right up until the end when, in his final years, he used graduating sizes of dots to create the impression of landscapes following traditional chinese depictions. Brilliantly, and through dots alone, he manages to give the impression of mist, of distance, of light, of water. These aren’t his best works by any means, but show just how far Lichtenstein had expanded upon his truly unique style from one end of his career to the other.

So did it matter that Lichtenstein borrowed from the work of illustrators, from supermarket shelves, from art history, from printing processes? Of course not, for in that respect, how was he any different from generations of artists before him? Rather, in seizing upon the depictions of modern life in the rapidly expanding post-war economy of 1960s America, Lichtenstein helped to made pop-culture an artistic phenomenon, while taking what were the incredibly simple artistic ingredients of black lines and benday dots, and making them his own in a career which was experimental, varied, and quite contrary to popular belief, incredibly expressive.

Lichtenstein: A Retrospective, runs at Tate Modern until 27th May 2013.

All images are the © of the Estate of Roy Lictenstein

Stunning new Roy Lichtenstein retrospective is a journey through his preoccupations (itsnicethat.com)
Lichtenstein: A Retrospective – Tate Modern (standard.co.uk)
A tale of two Picassos – the 1901 prodigy and the introspective illustrator of mythology (daily-norm.com)

Feb 26

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A tale of two Picassos – the 1901 prodigy and the introspective illustrator of mythology

I take something of a short break from my Valencian reportage to divert my focus slightly to one of the world’s most recognised artist, who is, as ever, creating a fresh storm manifested through two new exhibitions reflecting upon specific aspects of his career; one a period in which he started to develop from young progidy into the artist we know and love today; and the other his propensity towards illustrating mythological figures in his body of work. The first exhibition, Becoming Picasso: Paris 1901, recently opened and running until the end of May, is being held here in London, at the Courtauld Gallery. The second, Picasso: Faune, Centaure, Minotare, is on show in Valencia itself, and was therefore something I was lucky enough to catch during my stay. Held at the Bancaixa foundation, it’s running for the duration of 2013.

Becoming Picasso…

So let’s go back to the beginning, a time when Picasso was yet to find himself painting mixed up bodies, before the great masterpieces of Guernica and Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, when his figures were not delineated in thick black outlines, nor his compositions fragmented by cubes. In 1901, Picasso was but 19, but already showing huge talent as a young Malaga-born prodigy, so much so in fact that his work had already been chosen, in 1900, to represent Spain in the great Exposition Universelles in Paris, followed shortly afterwards, in 1901, by his very own solo show, held in Paris by collector Ambroise Vollard (Cezanne’s principal agent).

Portrait of Bibi-la-Purée (1901)

It was partly in preparation for this show that Picasso had such a prolific year in 1901, sometimes painting up to 3 canvases per day in preparation for his first big exhibition. It was a collection which borrowed from other Paris-based artists before him, such as Toulouse Lautrec’s depictions of the debauched Moulin Rouge nightclub, as well as the Spanish influences from which he was born, including the dwarf like characters of Velazquez’s work, replicated to amusing effect in this period by Picasso with paintings such as “La Nana”, a dwarfish dancer working at the Moulin Rouge. It was a period of colour and vivacity, full of latin spirit seeping into paintings such as “Spanish Dancer” and “Spanish Woman”, a rather promiscuous looking woman who again appears to reflect the work of Velazquez who famously portrayed the Spanish royal infantas with their huge skirts and embellished dresses.

It is with these fascinating paintings that the Courtauld show marks its strong opening, full of the joie de vivre of Paris but presented with a latin twist, far from the Picasso of later years, but neverthless showing prolific skill and a confident hand, even when painted so quickly.

Dwarf-Dancer (La Nana) (1901)

The Blue Room (1901)

However around the same time that his solo show was being received to critical acclaim, tragedy struck in Picasso’s life. His heartbroken best friend, Carles Casagemas, shot himself in the head in a Parisian cafe in front of all of his friends. It must have been a highly traumatic event, and the emotional turmoil which results is demonstrated in a marked change to Picasso’s approach. Diverting suddenly from the multi-coloured depictions of Paris as exhibited at the Voillard show, Picasso enters a new “blue” period (as it later became known), works of obvious melancholy. The blue paintings at first reflect on Casagemas’ death itself, as Picasso’s imagination becomes riddled with an almost obsessive preoccupation on his death. Picasso paints his dead body, and an altar-piece sized scene in which Casagemas’ body appears to be riding to heaven surrounded by scantily clad prostitutes taking the place where angels would normally be represented. Again this piece exhibits strong Spanish influences, marking a clear parallel to the impressive altarpiece, “The Burial of the Count of Orgaz” by El Greco, to be found in Spain’s Toledo.

Casagemas in his Coffin (1901)

Evocation (The burial of Casagemas) (1901)

What Parisian scenes Picasso does paint during this period are now marked with the same degree of melancholy. With a clear nod to Degas’ Absinthe drinkers, Picasso’s absinthe-drinking punters are melancholy, drawn out figures, either alone or depicted sat with a mysterious harlequin figure. Meanwhile, away from the cafes, Picasso becomes equally preoccupied with the suffering of others around him, in particular gypsy-looking mothers, shown in the tight embrace of a child to withstand the suffering and hard-bitten existence all around them.

Seated Harlequin (1901)

Harlequin and his Companion (1901)

Yo – Picasso (1901)

And there the show ends. It’s a small and compact exploration of a year which was clearly significant in Picasso’s development as an artist. As his paintings during the year develop, we see him adopting a stronger and darker black outline of his figures, with colour then added in between. It is thought that he had been influenced by the likes of Gauguin and Van Gogh in adopting this approach and taking it forward for the remainder of his career. It was also during this year, and clearly buoyed by his solo exhibition success, that Picasso emerged a more confident artist, as demonstrated by the two self-portraits in the exhibition, entitled “I-Picasso” (“Yo”) and which show the artist staring out boldly, full of strength and belief in his own skills. It was also in 1901 that Picasso, for the first time, started signing his paintings with the simple epithet: “Picasso”. There was no longer a need for a first name, nor indeed for any further introduction. Bold, prodigious and startlingly original in his changing styles and daring representation, the Malaga-born artist had now made it in Paris, and there was no going back. He had become Picasso.

Picasso: Faune, Centaure, Minotaure

The second show, which I was lucky enough to catch while in Valencia, is held in the rather swish premises of the Spanish bank, Bancaja, who have established something of an art foundation in the Valencia centre. A couple of years back I went to a similar foundation established by La Caixa bank in Palma de Mallorca and remembered thinking then that good old Barclays or Lloyds in London would never have an art foundation like these – and yet it’s a shame, since banks often have huge art collections which never otherwise see the light of day.

This small show, hung across a rather spacious contemporary exhibition area, focuses on Picasso’s preoccupation with mythology, and his use of the mythological figures of the Faun, the Centaur and the Minotaur to depict not only the legendary stories themselves, but also to use those characters in portraying something of himself. Most of the works were either watercolours, lithographs or etchings, and many were illustrations drawn by Picasso in partnership with well-known authors or poets. He also used the mythological figures when designing sets for theatrical and ballet productions and these two were represented in the show.

Faun Revealing a Sleeping Woman (Jupiter and Antiope, after Rembrandt) 1936

Faun with stars (1955, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY)

Through the faun, Picasso portrayed a happier, jocular ladies man, seducer of women, the party joker; and consequently the sketches and works of Picasso which include the faun are the work of happier times in Picasso’s career, when his subjects and his output appears carefree and creative. It is said that in representing the faun, Picasso looks back to his experiences as a lothario, as a fun and happy lover. In this work (above), “Faun revealing a sleeping woman” (1936) for example, part of the Suite Vollard which was a set of illustrations made as part of a collaboration with Ambroise Voillard, some commentators suggest that the etching was made as Picasso’s relationship with his lover and muse of ten years Marie-Thérèse Walther was coming to an end, and he looked back, nostalgically at their past affection and here, a holiday they spent together in Juan-les-Pins in the South of France.

Centaur and Bacchante, 1947

Picasso, Sculptor & Model with Statue of Centaur Kissing Girl, 1933

Through the centaur, Picasso plays on the traditional perception of the centaur as a mischievous sexual predator, a sexualised lothario, but something of a sexual outcast. On the one hand he shows the centaur painted in the loving embrace of a fellow sexualised bacchant, while on the other showing him as a troubled character who does not fit in within society. In one illustration (which I have been unable to find an image of) Picasso illustrates the rather surreal tale of a man who finds a centaur and brings him to Spain whereupon he tries to find a suitable place for him within society. The centaur is given a job as a picador in the bullring, but the centaur soon leaves the job, disliking the way that the bull would charge at him. Next he tries carting tourists around in a carriage on his back but finds the job too tiresome. Finally he settles in a teaching role. It’s a bizarre tale, but is it one which demonstrates Picasso’s own failure to properly find his niche in society?

Blind Minotaur Led by a Girl through the Night (1934 Printed in 1939)

Picasso’s Minotaur lying over a female centaur, 1933; plate 87 of the Vollard Suite at the British Museum

Finally, through the minotaur, Picasso reaches his lowest ebb, depicting the troubled, self-loathing and introspective minotaur at the times when Picasso is experiencing his own depression. Sketches showing the minotaur being manipulated by women (such as the illustration of the minotaur being led blinded by a woman into the night, above), injured, murdered and abused litter the period of work which Picasso later revealed to be his lowest and most desperate – it was the time when he was trying to escape a troubled marriage with wife Olga, a time when in paintings such as “Three Dancers” (now in Tate Modern), Picasso’s figures became more severe, defaced and ugly.

So while the Bancaja’s exhibition focused on a fairly narrow chapter of Picasso’s oeuvre, it nevertheless unveiled a number of truths of Picasso’s inner psyche: Picasso the self-doubter, the traumatised, the passionate lover, and the nostalgic and sensitive gentleman. For that reason it was a fascinating biographical tale told through some scintillating visual aids in the mythological genre. If only UK banks could prove such an education.

For details of the two exhibitions above, see the relevant pages of the Courtauld and Bancaja websites.

Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (ii) – Food Focus 1: Palo Alto (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (iii) – Photography Focus 1: Modernista architecture (daily-norm.com)
Becoming Picasso: Paris 1901, Courtauld Gallery, review (telegraph.co.uk)
Picasso in Paris: raw works of genius from the artist as a young man (guardian.co.uk)

Feb 25

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Valencia (iv) – Day 2: Sea, Sanctuary and Semana Santa

It’s easy to forget that Valencia is by the sea. With its centre some distance inland, you can barely make out the horizon of the Mediterranean, even from the city’s highest point atop the Miguelete bell tower. You can’t smell the sea, nor see boats, and I suppose it doesn’t help that the old river Turia is now dried out, diverted, and turned to gardens. And yet a ten minute journey away on Valencia’s tram will take you swiftly coastwards, where the Mediterranean sea stretches out like a swathe of azure blue above a foreground of softly undulating white sand.

And it was to the coast that we headed on this, second day of our Valencia Odyssey, taking the tube from Xativa out to the old Marina. But before we could even leave the historic centre, our walk took us into the Southern stretch of the city, below the Plaza de la Reina, and into the far bigger, much grander Plaza del Ayuntamiento. If the Catedral and the Plaza de la Virgen behind it is the beating heart of the city, then the Plaza del Ayuntamiento is its administrative brain and spinal cord. The Plaza, and the Ayuntamiento (town hall) sitting at its centre, resembles something closer to New York than old town Valencia. It’s highrises are not glass skyscrapers, but they are tall and magnificent, straight out of the art deco and Modernista era of architecture. At one corner of the square, a whole series of domed and turreted multi-storey business blocks come together like a meeting of the giants, and the effect is magnificent and altogether imposing. In the square’s centre, a vast plaza is broken up with a suitably impressive fountain surrounded by flowerbeds and flower sellers, while numerous benches enable visitors to sit and gaze up at the many elaborate buildings, and the stucco, wrought iron, and sculptures which decorate their facades, sending out a message of the grandeur and supremacy of the administrative heart of this city.

Features of the Plaza del Ayuntamiento

Walking through this impressive plaza, and onto the main shopping street lined, amongst others, with the beautiful Modernista Estacion del Norte, and the vast colonnaded bullring (this has to be one of Spain’s most impressive) we made our way down into the fairly modern and efficient (if a little slow) tube and journeyed outwards towards the coast. There, we alighted a few stops before the sea, just as the metro makes its seamless transition into an overland tram, so that we could make a visit to one of Valencia’s more unusual museums – the Museum of the Semana Santa Marinera de Valencia.

For those unaccustomed to Semana Santa, Spain’s Holy Week celebrations, they are generally mistaken into believing that the sinister hooded figures with eye-holes cut into pointed hoods, marching en masse by candlelight and accompanying religious paraphernalia, are none other than the infamous KKK. This is an unfortunate confusion which comes more of the KKK’s widespread infamy than any ignorance of spiritual and sacred tradition closer to home. For in Spain, long before the 3 K’s surfaced with their abominable practices, the churches of Spain’s towns and cities parade their holy statues out of the churches and around the streets on each of the nights of Holy Week. The men with the hoods are nazareños, Christian faithful who cover their faces as an act of penitence before unveiling their faces again when Christ is risen from the dead. These parades make for powerful spectacles – I know, having seen many in Andalucia, and having been inspired to paint many representations of the same.

Anyway, here in Valencia, it seems they do things a little different. For one thing their statues are built more as freezes, depictions of the Passion story, tailor made for being paraded rather than living in the side-chapels of churches. Secondly, these larger sculptures are paraded around on wheels, rather than carried by hundreds of men in unison, as is the practice in the South of Spain. Thirdly, and perhaps the reason for the second of these differences, the Semana Santa in Valencia is called the Semana Santa Marinera because the parades actually take place, at least in part, along the beach, hence the location of this museum. This must make for quite a sight. Sadly, owing to the time of year, we had to make do with the museum itself, which is more of a holding place for the floats and costumes during the year. I must say, it made for something of a creepy and solemn spectacle to see all of the statues lined up, the crucifixes with their realistic depictions of bleeding Christ, and the hooded figures set out as mannequins. As interesting as I found it, I’m glad I was not there alone.

After that slightly macabre visit, it felt good to be out in the sun again and walking towards the sea, not that it was terribly straightforward. It’s obvious that Valencia was not built as a seaside resort. For one thing, the city centre is far from the coast, with the result that the approaching areas are very suburban, and, to be honest, a little scary. Amongst all the tightly packed tower blocks, I felt very conspicuous – the two lone tourists with large cameras in hand walking along slightly lost in this very untouristy area. Eventually, via several main roads and diversions, we made it to the sea, but again the approach was far from obvious (luckily I speak enough Spanish to ask bemused locals where we were going). Valencia is known for having one of the biggest commercial ports on the Med – it is not known for its beaches, and while a rather pleasant paseo maritimo has now been forged along the coast, it is one strip of civility in amongst a whole hotbed of industrialised landscape. The golden sands, presumably imported, look a little out of place in this vast industrial centre, and even the pleasure port, itself a creation of recent decades, still has a very urbanised, working feel to it.

The restaurants along the paseo are clearly tourist-centric however, and as we walked along, I made a point of avoiding every restaurant which had posted a waiter outside, touting for business. As this left no options open to us, we opted instead for the arm of the Marian Real Juan Carlos I. There a rather tatty looking cafe, 39o 27N, appeared nevertheless inviting, offering us a prime position in the sun, next to the sea. Too good to resist in fact, and despite a rather unfortunate incident when I sat on a man’s coat for some 5 minutes believing it to be a complimentary blanket (thus inadvertently stealing his table causing him to walk off in a huff) we relaxed into a good hour’s worth of sun worship next to the blues of the Med and the sparkling white of the shore. From out on the harbour arm, the industrialised landscape beyond almost looked romantic.

Croquetas for lunch…

After a few croquetas and a small cerveza, we headed back in land, preferring the pull of the old town to this recently fabricated coastline. Heading up again to the north of the old centre as we had the previous day, we were aiming towards the second of Valencia’s two main artistic attractions: the Institute of Modern Art (IVAM). IVAM is said to be one of Europe’s finest museums of contemporary art. Set within a vast spacious building (as contemporary art museums often are) and close to the old Turia riverbank, it is a building full of fragmented exhibitions, but somewhat lacking in a consistent display. When we turned up, I was a little confused to be handed around 6 leaflets, each in turn providing information about different temporary exhibitions being held at the site. Very little of the museum’s permanent collection, which I understand to be large, was on display – there was an exhibition of the metal abstract sculptures of Julio Gonzalez, and an exhibition of the paintings of Valencian painter, Ignacio Pinazo, another exponent of the Impressionist mood in Spain. Otherwise all offerings were temporary, not that this made them any less interesting.

Jeff Koons jewellery

Of particular interest was the exhibition From Picasso to Jeff Koons, an exhibition not of the artists’ ordinary works, but of their creations in jewellery. Thus we were treated to a wide range of artistic jewellery, arranged in various artistic genres, from minimalism to surrealism, and included, as the name suggests, creations from the likes of Koons (his inflated rabbit was made into a rather fetching silver necklace) and Dali (though sadly not his Mae West lips which I have seen recreated as a ruby broach in another exhibition). We also enjoyed a show entitled Arte y Espiritualidad, in which the relationship between art and spirituality was examined. I particularly enjoyed the various installations made from multiple skulls in plastic and pastel coloured material (they looked a bit like sherbet), as well as the interplay between old religious works and very modern creations. I also loved the work of Equipo Cronica, a brilliant Spanish artist who takes works of popular Spanish culture (Picasso, Valezquez, Goya) and reinvents them for the modern age. Below is his work, El Patio de las Tentaciones (1972) which to my mind appears to be based on Velazquez’s Mother Jerónima de la Fuente.

Equipo Cronica, El Patio de las Tentaciones (1972)

Leaving IVAM, we had one more treat in store before the day’s end. Passing again by chance, we stumbled upon the Jardin de los Hespérides, a stunning contemporary garden space which, I learn subsequently, has been awarded prizes aplenty for its modern garden design. Simple in its layout, and uniform in its alignment of fragrant cypress trees, citruses and low banks of herbs, the garden is a place of calm sanctuary from the bustling city beyond. In the background, the rear of a beautifully ornate church contrasts wonderfully with the abrasive metals and harsh lines which make up the garden. Meanwhile, in the foreground, wonderfully expressive sculptures are like cubist creations come to life.

From Sea and Semana Santa, to a contemporary sanctuary in the midsts of the Valencian city centre, this day has once again introduced us to yet further facets of this diverse and variable city. And yet tomorrow there will be greater variance still – for we’re heading down river, to the City of Arts and Sciences, the modern architectural creation which has propelled Valencia forward as one of the world’s leading exponents of architectural innovation and, perhaps inevitably, the less comfortable epithet of one of Spain’s most extravagant spenders…

Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (ii) – Food Focus 1: Palo Alto (daily-norm.com)
Semana Santa – Inspiration for my Art (daily-norm.com)
Sunday Supplement – Road Traffic Control (The Semana Santa Code) (daily-norm.com)
The Daily Sketch – Viernes Santo (daily-norm.com)
The Daily Sketch – Norms do Semana Santa (daily-norm.com)
Semana Santa – Easter Spanish Style (daily-norm.com)

Feb 24

12 Comments

Valencia (iii) – Photography Focus 1: Modernista architecture

Regulars to my blog will not be at all surprised to know that I was never far from my camera(s) as I traversed the quaint streets, wide esplanades and picturesque squares of Valencia. Photography, like art, is like an inseparable part of my inner personality, almost like an extra limb by which I can capture the compositions which line up and freeze into photo form in my mind’s eye as I look around me. Valencia was, unsurprisingly, ripe fodder for my photographic expressionism, and so many photos have resulted, that I thought it would be prudent to post my body of work thematically.

First up is a concentration on Modernista architecture, the movement of architecture which paralleled, and to some extent expanded our own art nouveau style, an artistic drive which embellished buildings with floral, leafy detail, replaced straight lines with daring curves and undulations, and generally rewrote the rules of conservative architectural standards.

Valencia’s offerings of Modernismo are not as abundant or over the top as the prized examples of Barcelona’s Gaudi-led architecture, but there are nonetheless plenty of buildings to rave about. As a starting point, I was delighted to learn, upon arriving out our hotel, the Vincci Palace, that the hotel itself is set within one of Valencia’s most admired Modernista offerings, complete with elaborate miradores (corner balconies) of which (I was even more excited to discover) our room boasted one of two. In the same street (the Calle de la Paz), various other buildings overflow in Modernista detailing, from plaster rendering which looks almost alive with curving creeping plant details, to equally elaborate ironwork, but all combined with something of a Valencian focus as plaster and stone combines with softly-toned ceramic tiles.

Beyond the Calle de la Paz, examples of Modernismo are sprinkled across the city’s historic quarter, as wooden miradores, rounded windows, and examples aplenty of differing building shapes and styles standout from the more conventional linear architecture all around. In the impressive Plaza del Ayuntamiento, a plethora of decorated domes, statues and curving, meandering details are scattered across the architecturally diverse central square, while beyond, the Modernista facade of the grand central station, the Estacion del Norte, makes for an impressive entrance to the city’s main transport hub. Also in the centre, the grand Mercado Central is built in the Modernista tradition, with elaborate ironwork, coloured stained glass and more ceramic detailing proclaiming a central food market place for the people built in the Modernismo style.

It is without further ado that I share a gallery of the garlanded, stucco-covered, elaborately decorated buildings and street furnishings which make Valencia’s historic quarter a must-see centre of the Modernista movement.

: Plant detailing appearing to emerge from the rendering

: Elaborate modernista balconies

: Our hotel room had its own miradora (corner balcony)

: View from our miradora

: Green ceramic tiling with modernista stonework overlapping

: More elaborate wooden balconies

: The ironwork of the modernista central market

: The modernista facade of the Estacion del Norte

: Ceramic detailing on the modernista mercado

: Lion detailing on an advertising post

: Modernista elaborate domes

: Elaborate ironwork

: Outside of the Mercado Central

: Our hotel miradora from the outside

: Roof decoration aplenty in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento

: Modernista rounded windows

: Stained glass in the mercado central

: Our miradora balcony seen from inside

Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower (daily-norm.com)
Valencia (ii) – Food Focus 1: Palo Alto (daily-norm.com)

Feb 22

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Valencia (i) – Day 1: Beauty and the Bell Tower

As I stood listening to the huge iron bell strike atop the Miguelete tower at 1pm, I was caused to reflect on where I had been just two weeks ago. Having climbed the 330-odd steps to the top of London’s Elizabeth Tower, to view the gigantic bell famous throughout the world as “Big Ben”, my ascendance up this latest bell tower marked my second climb up the steep spiralling steps of a campanile in as many weeks. Yet the differences in the visits were all too visible. In Elizabeth tower, the 330 steps were fairly gentle and wide; here the 207 steps were steep and arduous, narrowing as they got higher. In London, we were the only visitors on the stairs, whereas in the Miguelete tower high numbers of tourists meant crossing each other’s paths going up and down these narrow spirals was perilous to say the least. Up here, our ears only suffered one single bong, whereas up Big Ben at 12pm, 12 huge dongs reverberated around our bodies causing us near deafness and a strong case of jellylegs.

The city, viewed from above

But the biggest differences between these two bell towers were twofold: First, temperature – in London I perished in freezing cold winds, desperate to get inside behind the relative shelter of the clock’s huge stained-glass faces; whereas atop the Miguelete tower, I was in a pleasant 20 degrees. Secondly, the view: From Big Ben the city of London spread out beneath my feet, famous landmarks were one to the dozen, but they were basked in cold and grey and ice; here, another city spread before me – golden browns and auburn hues toped with elegant ceramic tiled domes of blues and greys, eau de nil and white, while towards the sea beyond, the eccentric discordant architectural forms of Santiago Calatrava’s revolutionary arts and science park rose from the now empty basin of the old river Turia. So what was the city I was viewing from this bell tower with such felicitous awe and inspiration? None other than Valencia.

Traditionally dressed Valencians cause a stir in the Plaza de la Virgen

The City of Arts and Sciences in the distance

Valencia, capital of its own eponymously self-named region and located on the Eastern Mediterranean coast of the Iberian Peninsular, is Spain’s third largest city and one of the most visited in the country. Famous for Las Fallas, its March festival in which huge models are paraded down the city streets in a carnival of colour and festivity, as well as the rather oddly traditional mass human tomato fight (La Tomatina) which is held each August in the nearby town of Buñol, Valencia is a city with many facets, from its charming old centre, to its super modern Ciudad de las artes y las ciencias which boasts such startlingly innovative architecture as to have put Valencia on the architectural map of the world.

It seemed appropriate that having explored so much of my beloved Spain, I would eventually make it to this bustling Spanish centre, and all the more so at Valentines, a festival which shares so much of the city’s name. Romance wasn’t exactly my priority however – I was visiting with my Mother, with whom I have a shared love for Spanish culture – although it was certainly not lacking in the picturesque streets, charming street cafes, and large open squares of this iconic Spanish heartland.

Views of Valencia’s historic quarter

Staying in the heart of Valencia’s historic centre, in the conveniently located, wonderfully modernista Vincci Palace Hotel, we were only a short stroll away from the Plaza de la Virgen and next door, the Plaza de la Reina, in between which the city’s principle cathedral and it’s Miguelete bell tower mark the city’s centre-point. And what a place to begin what has surely followed as a love affair with this diverse and inviting city (although the steep spiralling stairs down from the tower did perhaps make sightseeing for the remainder of the day a little more tiresome). The cathedral’s tower is however only one aspect of this architecturally multi-faceted building. From austere gothic nave, to elaborate renaissance altar, and classical colonnaded rear to a front entrance dripping in baroque details, the cathedral is, to a degree, a perfect representation of this city. Not only is it situated at the beating heart of the city’s historical centre, but it demonstrates the plethora of influences and historical changes which have helped to shape and expand Valencia into the sprawling and diverse city it is today.

The Cathedral’s gothic interior

and its baroque facade

And a poor headless saint

So with a taste for the city’s multi-faceted personality, we spent our morning ambling contentedly from one square to another, down narrow little streets full of souvenir shops and cafes, photographing fountains and statues of (sometimes headless) saints and sinners, and noting the details of human gargoyles and colonnaded arches, heavily decorated churches and shady orange-tree lined courtyards which fill the old quarter.

After lunch, and having reached the northern extent of the old town, we crossed what was once the River Turia in pursuit of the city’s fine art collection. The old River Turia is perhaps one of the oddest elements of the city. Once a thriving great river which ran around the city’s historic centre like the caressing arm of a lover, the river caused such devastating floods in 1957 that the decision was taken to divert the river away from the city and out to the Mediterranean via a different course. The result is a strange ghost of what was once – still the river bed runs around the city, and still the bridges which once crossed water cross this large basin. However instead of water, along the old river bed runs extensive gardens for some 9km. The effect is to inject a huge swathe of greenery running through the heart of the city’s modern expanse, but it’s also an odd one – the base of bridges, normally plunging into water, plunge straight into concrete and flower beds instead – a ghost of what once was.

The Museum of fine arts with the gardens now in the old river bed in front

A bridge plunges into concrete on the old river

So crossing the ghost of the Turia, we arrived at the aptly named Museo de Bellas Artes. Said to have a collection second only in size to Madrid’s Prado (although I’m not sure how – the Reina Sofia in Madrid seems much bigger, although perhaps Valencia’s complete collection is not out on display) the museum is a cornucopia of paintings from Spain’s golden age of painting, including a self-portrait by Velazquez, several works by Goya, and an incredibly beautiful painting of Saint Sebastian by de Ribera (see below). The purity of his skin, pierced by arrows and tended to by the Saint Irene, against the beauty of his face, almost ecstatic with the extent of his martyrdom, made for an incredible painting to behold.

St Sebastian tended by St Irene, by Jose de Ribera (1591-1652)

Also at the gallery are the works of leading Spanish exponent of the impressionist school, Joaquin Sorolla. Valencian born, and bequeathing his works to his home city on the condition that they would be collected together in a gallery such as this, the museum boasts a fine collection of mainly portraits which provide an evocative, very personal view of the city and its residents. Of particular attraction, for me, were his nudes and human studies, such as this academic study of a male, below. Also at the more modern end of the collection was this beautiful study of Cherries by Pons Amau, who perfectly captures the effect of sun shining through the leaves of this cherry tree.

Joaquin Sorolla, Academic Study from Life (Man) (1887)

Francisco Pons Amau, Cherries (1886-1953)

Oh and beyond the paintings, I should also mention the museum’s two palatial courtyards, one red and one blue, both bursting with busts and relics from antiquity, the perfect places of calm to explore towards the end of our first Valencian day.

Other highlights from the Museo Bellas Artes

So from the 207 steps of the Miguelete bell tower, across the historic quarter of Valencia, over the old Turia river and around the Belles Artes museum, our first day in Valencia presented a complex opening in this urban tale, a tale in which we were presented with the undeniable beauty of Valencia’s belles arts, as well as the clamouring melodies of its bells, ringing out in recognition that the central heart of this vast city bursts full of vigour for all to see, hear and explore. And that’s just what we intend to do tomorrow.

© Nicholas de Lacy-Brown and The Daily Norm, 2001-2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of the material, whether written work, photography 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.

Big Ben at close Quarters – the Elizabeth Tower Tour (daily-norm.com)

Feb 17

3 Comments

Sunday Supplement Valentine’s Special – Engaged in Paris

On Valentine’s Day we witnessed the momentous and happy event that was Normy and Normette’s engagement a-top the Eiffel Tower. The tower is, inevitably, a popular place for engagement, and there can be no surprises why – who could resist the views afforded by the tower, across the ultimate city of love, when choosing a place to pop the ultimate question? I myself got engaged in Paris, although our view was from the Butte in Montmartre – for that place means so much to me as an artist, but also afforded us a view of the Eiffel Tower itself, just as it started sparkling on the hour – that way we got the best of both worlds – what a moment it was!

It was in the place of my own engagement (although, significantly, I hadn’t actually popped the question at this time, although you can see that subconsciously, I was intending to) that I set this double portrait which I am featuring in today’s Sunday Supplement in honour of Valentine’s. Painted in 2009, the painting features two friends of mine, Charlotte and Ben, who themselves got engaged upon the Eiffel tower. When they approached me to do a portrait of them for the wedding itself, I couldn’t resist painting them surrounded by the city in which their engagement was sealed, but also in the romantically cobbled surroundings of Montmartre, along with the Tour Eiffel in the background. That way all the charm of Paris is captured, while the place of their engagement is given appropriate prominence in the scene.

Engaged in Paris: Charlotte and Ben (2009 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown)

The painting, albeit a commission, was a pleasure to create, not least because Paris has always been my spiritual home. The moment I first walked into the Place du Tertre in Montmartre, led their blindfolded by a teacher (on a school trip) who knew instinctively how much I would love it, my heart hit the floor and has remained firmly embedded in those charming cobbles ever since, surrounded by cafes, by artists and the sound of the accordion. It is for this reason that I feel compelled to visit Paris every year, in order to plug myself into my heart and my spiritual being, and likewise why I chose to stage my own engagement in this incredibly special place.

I leave you with the painting, and for those celebrating Valentine’s this weekend wish you a very special celebration.

Valentine’s kiss for equal marriage (daily-norm.com)

Feb 14

6 Comments

Valentine’s in Paris – Normy pops the ultimate question

It’s every Norm-girl’s dream. Whisked to Paris by her hunky Norm lover, taken to exhibitions, to restaurants, having his arm wrapped around her on evening strolls along the Seine, taking rides on carousels and sipping coffee outside packed bohemian cafes. All this Normette has experienced in the last few days of her Valentine’s trip to Paris, but she could never have imagined just how special this trip could get.

Normy had it all planned. The date was Valentine’s, festival of love, and the location was of course the Tour Eiffel. Wrapped up warm to face the February cold, Normy whisked Normette up the express lift to the third and highest floor of the tower, where spectacular views of Paris awaited. And then, just as the skies were beginning to dull and descend into a rosy pink, and the lights of Paris beneath began to sparkle like a carpet of diamonds, Normy genuflected forwards (Norms don’t have knees you see), took Normette’s single cold hand in his, and asked her to do him the greatest honour of all things, and agree to be his Norm-wife!

Normy and Normette: engaged on the Eiffel Tower (2013 © Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, pen on paper)

As if the cold hadn’t made her eyes water enough, Normette reacted with flowing tears of unabashed joy. Her heart beating asunder and her smooth gelatinous skin feeling suddenly goose-pimpled all over, Normette answered almost instantaneously: “Yes! Yes! Yes!!”. At that moment fireworks appeared to explode all around them (or perhaps that was just in their heads) as the significance of the moment manifested into a chorus of cheering exultation – Normy and Normette had got engaged!!

What happier story can there be for this Valentine’s day than the tale of two beloved Norms, united at last, despite turbulence and strife over Christmas, and facing the joys of a united life ahead. I leave you with a view of the moment of their engagement, and heartfelt Valentine’s wishes from all the Norms, and from me.

Happy Valentine’s Day!