καιρός

Of late, there has been rather a lot of escaping into the past for me.  By my own admission this has been, at times, rather tumultuous in nature and despite the occasional outburst of tears, it has been rather calming and soothing as well. This escapism has ranged from watching a film - My Week With Marilyn - which despite my initial reservations over watching Kenneth Branagh, an actor I find most awfully over-rated, playing a rather credible Lawrence Olivier to an excellent performance by Michelle Williams who captured some of the magic that was Marilyn Monroe, from the ridiculously ephemeral turn by Emma Watson (she of that irritating franchise that is Harry Potter) to both Judi Dench and Eddie Redmayne; fine actors who evoked the period in which they were cast.  A film which I must confess I did not expect to enjoy but found myself doing so.

Another foray has been into my own past.  Thinking and pondering over things and I readily admit, this has been the cause of much of my tears over the last couple of days.  Perhaps, as usual, too much soul searching and over analysis on my part - unable to change things yet somehow seeking to understand, digest and move forward. This isn't always easy; especially when so much of the present is undone, stressed, seemingly angst ridden and confused. My life is undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts, a change if you will.  Some of those in my life are aware of this, some are oblivious and others still remain ignorant; not wishing to know, understand, or perhaps even just turning a blind eye to all the proceedings that are going on.  I have been reflecting somewhat upon past mistakes, errors of judgment and misfortunes, as well as my own stupidity and gradually - I hope, somehow, I am turning my back on such events and their outcomes which have seemingly impinged upon my life.  In short, although at times I feel close to the edge of a metaphysical, metaphorical abyss; I don't want to fall in, and have a nervous breakdown before the age of forty.

So, this afternoon, I went to the Dulwich Picture Gallery.  Slightly outside of my usual "comfort zone" if you will, in terms of both the art and period I know and understand.  Having been dubbed both a "Renaissance man" and a "mediaevalist" in recent times (both compliments glad received); I chose to spend an afternoon in the company of artists such as Poussin, Gainsborough and Rubens.   This might seem to those who know me best as being rather a daunting undertaking, and certainly rather alien to my being to say the least.  In terms of art, despite the occasional and rather daring foray into more modern works such as Uglow, Modigliani or Klimt, I rarely step beyond the late sixteenth century.  Yet earlier, I found myself transfixed unexpectedly by the glory of some of the works which I was witness to, and despite the crowds around me - found myself largely able to shut the majority of the other spectators out and concentrate upon the glorious spectacles in their gilt frames in front of me.  For me, it was like discovering the glory and beauty of a whole new world, and something which rather ridiculously I had overlooked.  For those who have long since dismissed art they do not understand, I say to them, open your eyes and look, and your ears and listen.  For indeed, there is beauty all around.  Not to say that I am going to start listening to rap, hiphop, or dance music - nor appreciate graffiti (or 'street artists') and start to sing its praises but maybe, just maybe as I approach my forties next year, I find myself being more accepting, appreciative and open minded; lifting the blinkers and enlarging my scope and panorama.  Even at times when I feel that I am so set in my ways, I enjoy to be pleasantly surprised and discover something new.



Le Triomphe de David - by Nicolas Poussin -  in the Dulwich Picture Gallery.

At present, this seems to be a time of καιρός, hence the heading.  Rhetorically speaking, kairos is
a passing instant when an opening appears which must be driven through with force if success is to be achieved.  I am not there yet, yet I feel that moment beckons and is close at hand.  I can only hope that I do not miss it, and the opportunity does not bypass me (once again?).

What lies beyond our memory's confines.

Recently, I have been discussing all sorts of everything with a close friend and we came to discussing a lost Holbein that came up for sale a few years ago in London.  The work, a painting of Thomas Wyatt the Younger, has proved contentious over the years with various scholars over the years arguing over the veracity of the picture.  Certainly, Sir Roy Strong, the leading art historian of Tudor and Jacobean portraiture considered it to be a Holbein, however, Dr. Susan Foister of the National Gallery has declined to pass comment upon the picture.  To me, a mere enthusiast with admittedly no training nor qualification in the history of art, but only saddled with an enthusiasm for mediaeval culture, literature, art and architecture have read the Weiss catalogue in which the portrait is illustrated. With this, and having read various works on Holbein, I cast my own thoughts and opinions. I too, in my humble opinion, believe this painting to be a true Holbein.  The reasons vary from my understanding of Holbein's work to an understanding of his style, technique and some of the more complex reasonings presented by professional art historians as to it's veracity.  Certainly it is atypical of his work in terms of construct, but Holbein was, in many ways, avant garde without always conforming to strict confining regimen of his day.  Surely it should be a matter of celebration to have re-discovered a work by one of the greatest artists in the 16th century in England rather than condemn it to obscurity.

Sir Thomas Wyatt, the Younger - a lost Holbein (?)

Currently I am reading The Book of Lost Books by Stuart Kelly, who has captured my interest and indulged my fascination in lost works by telling his history of literature and poetry through a series of chapters named after a relevant author contemporary to the period which he is discussing.  Equally so, it will be hard for even the most hardened bibliophile to not feel his or her eyes becoming moist at the tremendous sense of loss we have endured throughout history.  Furthermore, how much of the basis of our understanding of our times, both ancient and more recent, are based upon guesswork, assumption, speculation and possibly the element of hope that exists deep within our souls - part of that very essence which makes us human.  The ecstatic sense of discovery, when a lost work of those who came and went before is rediscovered; and how, through that rediscovery, whether read or realised or even recognised, by the many or the very few, can reach out and touch our lives.  This can be in relation to a lost painting, such as one of the beauty of the Holbein above, or a lost poem by Pindar which was found torn up in the scrap heaps in Oxyrhynchus.  Such discoveries should enthrall as much as inspire us, for they are glimpses into our past which (sadly) can never be revisited in both body and soul -  only through speculation, imagination, reconstruction and an endeavour at understanding can they be, albeit tentatively, recreated.

What the Fouquet ?!

Staggered and flabbergasted here.  Just discovered this truly diabolical mini biopic of dire proportions on YouTube whist engaged in a vain attempt to undertake some research on an exhibition I sadly never was able to see, yet have the catalogue for, simply named "Imagining the Past in France".  Another foray and attempted flee into the Mediaeval/Renaissance world for me in a vain attempt to escape from some of the torments of the 21st century.

Back to the clip.  What on God's Earth is this?!  It has the appearance of being a trailer of sorts, featuring some truly dreadful acting and the worst usage of blue screen as yet confined to digital celluloid.  This mess hangs together in a series of disjointed, mini-vignettes with contrived, appalling dialogue and a strange cacophony of accents at play (including one who decides that we should be sounding French here, and decides to emulate Poirot in one particular scene).  And, all the more apparent, NO-ONE HERE CAN ACT !!!  The best part in this whole shoddy exercise is the inclusion of reproductions of the paintings and for which, I suppose one should be grateful that there was no attempt made by an in-house artist to re-create Fouquet's masterful works of beauty.  Watching it, almost makes The Tudors have a historical feel, and at least the latter looks splendidly opulant (despite countless historical inaccuracies and failings), whereas this is simply tawdry and cheap.  Awful, awful, AWFUL !!  If this 'historical rendition' of events was in any way, shape or form nearing a mirror of the Middle Ages, then bring on Baldassare Castiglione and the Renaissance!  Whoever directed this deserves the same fate as Hugh the younger Despenser.

The Fate of Hugh Despenser

Maybe I am being a little harsh in tone, but such punishment would certainly be in keeping and in period, and I am sure that Froissart would most heartily approve of such methods. To digress, on a tangential point, I am seeking inspiration today, so I have chucked a couple of books into the book bag (Daniel Kahneman's Thinking, Fast and Slow and the aforementioned catalogue) and heading out. Am recently and freshly washed, scented but unshaved, with my mop of hair tied back, ready to leave, in an endevour to locate a secluded spot, surrounded by greenery if possible, and without the presence of too many people.  To note, I don't feel antisocial, I just seek the right sort of company, or none at all.  After being described yesterday as "a truly benign presence" (Thank you Mark!!); my spirit, if not my inspiration feels elevated...  Out I go, beneath a half clouded over, half cerulean blue sky, so I can read, reflect, and ruminate.

Fouquet and Dürer

Although on not quite the same level of admiration I place on Holbein and his works, here are two other artists I appreciate and respect for the beauty of their work.

Jean Fouquet

and Albrecht Durer

Such wonderful escapism on a rather subdued day such as this.

Holbein

Holbein has long been one of my favourite artists.  Someone has thoughtfully put his complete paintings (however, it does not include his various sketches and drawings), on Youtube for all to see.  Enjoy!

An article I wrote on the drawings and paintings of Lord and Lady Guildford can be seen here.

Loos van Cleve

These are great!  Apparently, during a long flight, Nina Katchadourian, went to the loo and over several visits and after performing various feats of origami on the loo paper, as well as other objects to hand, has created these fabulous self portraits in a mock Northern Renaissance style.  Admittedly I did wonder when she said she "spontaneously put a tissue paper toilet cover seat cover over my head and took a picture in the mirror using my cellphone."  Just the sort of thing one does when going to the loo on the plane (!)

She writes:-

"While in the lavatory on a domestic flight in March 2010, I spontaneously put a tissue paper toilet cover seat cover over my head and took a picture in the mirror using my cellphone. The image evoked 15th-century Flemish portraiture. I decided to add more images made in this mode and planned to take advantage of a long-haul flight from San Francisco to Auckland, guessing that there were likely to be long periods of time when no one was using the lavatory on the 14-hour flight. I made several forays to the bathroom from my aisle seat, and by the time we landed I had a large group of new photographs entitled Lavatory Self-Portraits in the Flemish Style. I was wearing a thin black scarf that I sometimes hung up on the wall behind me to create the deep black ground that is typical of these portraits. There is no special illumination in use other than the lavatory's own lights and all the images are shot hand-held with the camera phone."