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Showing posts with label brooke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brooke. Show all posts

Friday, 23 February 2018

Requiem for the Emblem of Power

My latest exhibition review for Church Times has been published today - . 

“Requiem for the Emblem of Power” by Paul Wager is at Dadiani Fine Art Gallery (30 Cork Street, London) until 20 March and is an exhibition that commemorates the centenary of the ending of the First World War by reflecting on the futility of war while remembering ‘those brave uniformed men who made the ultimate sacrifice for their countries.’

I begin the review by saying: 'PAUL WAGER uses the conventions of propaganda and memorial art to subvert their usual declarative and commemorative content. “Requiem for the Emblem of Power”, an exhibition that commemorates the centenary of the ending of the First World War, exists in the change of national consciousness bookended by Rupert Brooke’s “The Soldier” and Wilfred Owen’s “Anthem, For Doomed Youth”.'

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Monday, 8 November 2010

The Parable of the Old Man and the Young

At our recent Celebration of Christian Poetry event held at St John's Seven Kings, Revd. Bridget de Mello, curate at St Luke’s Great Ilford, reminded those present of the sense of outrage that all should feel at the loss of life which occurs as a result of war.

Bridget did so by speaking about and reading a poem by the First World War poet, Wilfred Owen, called ‘The Parable of the Old Man and the Young.’ This poem is a parody of the Old Testament story of Abraham’s preparedness to sacrifice his son Isaac before God provides a ram as an alternative sacrifice. Owen’s poem is written as a parable in which Abram represents the European nations prepared to sacrifice their young men in the First World War. Owen condemns those in power who took their countries to war believing that sacrificing their nations' pride was too high a price for their nations to pay.

The cruel irony which Owen highlights through the poem is that the real cost of this pride was millions of dead - the seed of Europe. The dead included Owen himself who was killed in action at the Battle of the Sambre a week before the war ended. In a moment of ghastly irony, the telegram from the War Office announcing his death was delivered to his mother's home as her town's church bells were ringing in celebration of the Armistice.

Owen had seen first hand the wave of patriotism at the beginning of the First World War which glorified England and the idea of dying for England. This had been captured in the poetry of Rupert Brooke whose sonnet sequence ‘1914’ began with the line, “Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour.”

The horror of the trenches compared with the wave of patriotism which had joyfully sent young men to those same trenches led to the writing of Owen’s poem and the realization that war should never be treated lightly or simply glorified. The enlisting of God as being on our side by the established Church also meant that Christians at that time colluded in this glorification of war enabling poets like Owen to use bible stories and imagery in ways that were deliberately intended to shock a complacent public at home.

As a result, while on Remembrance Sunday it is absolutely right to remember and honour all who have made the ultimate sacrifice, this should never be done in a way that simply condones the act of war itself. The prayers that we use on Remembrance Sunday are carefully prepared to ensure that this balance is kept, as in this prayer from the Civic Service of Remembrance:

O God of truth and justice, we hold before you those whose memory we cherish and those whose names we will never know. Help us to lift our eyes above the torment of this broken world and grant us the grace to pray for those who wish us harm. As we honour the past may we put our faith in your future, for you are the source of life and hope, now and forever. Amen.

On Remembrance Sunday we will remember those who gave their today for our tomorrow but we remember, at least in part, to try to ensure that young people are never again sent to war on the back of the glorification of war which Brooke celebrated and Owen condemned.

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Bill Mason Band - Lost Years.

Thursday, 6 August 2009

Airbrushed from Art History (11)

So far in this series of posts we have examined the circles of artists and influence which formed around Maurice Denis, Jacques Maritain, and Albert Gleizes, each in turn making a distinctive contribution both to the development of Modern Art and of the French Catholic Revival. Before examining the final circle of influence which affected both movements, that which formed around the Dominican Friars Couturier and Régamy, we turn to a quest which linked artists involved in the three circles of influence we have explored to date.

That quest was for an objective, scientific approach to art. This search began with Georges Seurat, who was widely believed to have developed a scientifically based understanding of colour known as Neo-impressionism or Pointillism in conjunction with the mathematician Charles Henry. This style spread across Europe with the Italian Divisionists becoming strong proponents and paving the way for the development of Futurism.

Peter Brooke, writing in the ‘Afterword’ to The Aesthetic of Beuron and other writings, notes that Paul Sérusier, a member of the circle around Denis, was “dissatisfied with Seurat’s solution, mainly because he felt it did not offer an adequate account of form in painting.” Sérusier found the science he was seeking in the work and writing of Benedictine monk Desiderius Lenz:

“who as painter and sculptor in the late nineteenth century anticipated many of the ideas associated with twentieth-century art – the rejection of naturalism and perspective and an insistence on ‘abstract’, geometrically based principles for painting. The artistic school he founded in his monastery at Beuron in Southern Germany had a great influence on ecclesiastical art and gained admirers among the European avant-garde, including Alexei Jawlensky, Alphonse Mucha and Paul Sérusier.”

Dutch artist, Jan Verkade had joined the circle of Denis and Sérusier, the Nabis, on
his arrival in Paris in 1891. He studied with Sérusier in Brittany where he converted to Roman Catholicism. After time spent in Italy, Verkade “joined the Beuron monastery as an artist-oblate in 1894.” He “worked under Lenz on St Gabriel’s in Prague in 1895 and on the refectory in Beuron in 1897” before becoming a priest in 1902. Sérusier and Denis were introduced to the Beuron School by Verkade. Sérusier visited Lenz in Prague in 1895 and becoming Lenz’s champion in France publishing his translation of Lenz’s essay The Aesthetic of Beuron in 1905 (with an introduction by Denis), on, as Brooke notes, the eve of Cubism.

Sérusier claimed to have been ‘the father of Cubism’, a remark which has generally been treated as far-fetched, but which, Brooke suggests, is understandable in the light of Lenz’s essay:

“Sérusier (and Lenz) pose the problem of form in painting. They believe it is a problem to be tackled objectively. Which is to say that the characteristics of form (straight line, curve, circle etc) interact with the human sensibility in a way that is predictable, almost, one might say, measurable ... Particular importance is attached to the most elementary geometrical figures (square, triangle and circle), to elementary symmetry and to the Golden Section.”

Brooke notes that “all these characteristics are clearly relevant to the general history of Cubism” and that when Sérusier’s later book ABC de la Peinture (setting out ideas which are very similar to those of Lenz) was published in 1921, it was “quite clearly part of the same intellectual world” as Gino Severini’s Du Cubisme au Classicisme (also published in 1921), Albert Gleizes’ Du Cubisme et les moyens de la comprehendre (1920) and La Peinture et ses Lois (1922 or 23), “and the arguments constantly repeated in [Amédée] Ozenfant and [Charles Edouard] Jeanneret’s publication L’Esprit Nouveau.” He concludes that “it would be very easy to see Sérusier as the father of the Cubism of the 1920s, or at least as the oldest participant in that particular debate.”

Brooke writes, in his introduction to Du Cubisme au Classicisme and La Peinture et ses Lois, that:

“Both Severini and Gleizes ... believed that there were objective principles behind the act of painting analogous to the laws of musical harmony; that these had been lost or had become obscured; and that Cubism was an attempt to recover them. Both were responding to one of the most dramatic moments in the history of modern painting – the moment when Cubism seemed to be losing its impetus, to be yielding the ground to other ideas.”

Severini had “turned to a numerically/geometrically based figurative painting, arguing that painting had been discovered as a science at the time of the Renaissance and that this was a progress which could not be negated by a return to the Egyptian or the Romanesque.” Severini writes in his autobiography The Life of a Painter that “many artists liked to discuss geometry and mathematics” but that he found their discussions insufficient thinking “that artists should apply, and would benefit from, strictly observed rules of geometry and mathematics which had value “beyond their constructive value” through “something strictly innate to artistic creativity.”
Severini writes that he “glimpsed the path leading to the infinite, towards absolute purity, superhuman poetry and perfect harmony, in numbers”:

“In fact, somewhere beyond a painting, a statue, a poem or a symphony, lies the art and poetry contained therein. Poetry and art belong to a profound stratum of being, common to all forms of expression, and therein is the pure source that animates everything, holds everything together, that is, the artist to the universe, the work to the cosmos, the individual to the collective soul; the measurement of all this is in numbers. This accounts for its metaphysical value, beyond human values ...”

Severini “confirmed that clear and precise rules had dominated artistic creativity in ancient times” and saw that there was, therefore, “a whole metier to be restored”, a vocation was being ignored by the academies and that only some of the artists of his generation had envisaged. Of these he specifically mentioned Denis and his references to such laws in the book Théories where he writes of the Beuron School. Severini had also read The Aesthetics of Beuron and noted that their aesthetic could be summarized in these few lines: “The simple, the clear, the typical, whose roots are in numbers and the simplest of measurements, remains the basis of all art, and measuring, counting, weighing are its most important functions. The aim of all great art is the transmission, the characteristic application of fundamental geometrical, arithmetical, symbolic forms, originating in Nature, to serve great ideas.”

Brooke notes that “soon after writing Du Cubisme au Classicisme, Severini entered into relations with the Roman Catholic Church, initially in the person of Jacques Maritain, the Thomist philosopher who had a particular talent for presenting Roman Catholic doctrine in such a way as to appeal to the intellectuals of the cultural avant garde.” Severini wrote of Maritain’s Art and Scholasticism that he “was amazed at the extent to which it agreed with the most modern goals, and at the profound sense of freedom, from what supreme heights of intelligence, the author could observe, put in order, and clarify, everything related to art.” Maritain recommended Severini for commissions as a mural painter for churches in Switzerland and Severini went on to become particularly successful at obtaining commissions for the painting of religious works.

Brooke also writes that:

“Gleizes had converted in 1918 to a belief in God which he expressed in terms of the Christian and Roman Catholic tradition, though he initially made little effort to enter into contact with the church itself ... He took the view, which he expresses in La Peinture et ses Lois, that Christianity had manifested what was great in it in the period we now characterise as the ‘Dark Ages’, from around the fifth to the twelfth centuries, in Western Europe ... But, from the twelfth century, this Christianity, which had given rise to the art we call ‘Romanesque’, is in decline. The early Renaissance – the period Severini has indicated as the moment when painting became known as a precise science – is a symptom of this decline. Thomism – the basis of Maritain’s philosophy – is another. In this period, an understanding orientated towards time (immeasurable, immaterial, of the nature of consciousness) gave way to an implicitly materialist understanding based on space. In other words the quality that had been possessed in the early period was precisely the quality which had been rediscovered in Cubism. To go back to the Renaissance as Severini was proposing was to deny what was essential and truly (indeed, literally) revolutionary in the Cubist achievement ...

La Peinture et ses Lois represents the moment when Gleizes began to see [this argument] clearly, very probably in reaction to Severini’s book.”

Brooke notes that:

“In opposition to Thomas Aquinas, Gleizes saw Augustine as the philosopher of the Benedictine spirit ... In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, the conflict Gleizes saw between this Augustinian spirit and the Thomist spirit took the very acute form of a public quarrel between Gleizes and Fr Pie-Raymond Régamey, a Dominican, director of the journal Art Sacré, and leading champion of the efforts to engage leading modern artists in the service of the Church ... Régamey’s hostility to the influence of Gleizes was an extension of the hostility he already felt towards the influence of the School of Beuron. And ... it was a matter of principle.”

Thomism, Brooke argues, “draws a sharp distinction between the ‘natural’ and the ‘supernatural’, and argues that there is no passage between them.” For the Thomist, humanity “lies wholly within the sphere of the natural” where the “highest faculty is reason, and reason cannot aspire to the supernatural, which can only be known by revelation.” Therefore, for the Thomist, it is impossible “that an artist should come to a knowledge of the divine through the practise of his craft.”

However, “in the early Christian writings of Augustine admired by Lenz and Gleizes ... continuity [between the human and the Divine] is stressed [by means of the spirit, the ‘noetic’ faculty, which is the means by which we enter into union with the Divine and the ‘supernatural’ becomes included in human nature in all its fullness], and the manipulation of numbers – the business of the poet, the musician, or the artist – is presented as part of it.”

Brooke, although a promoter of the issues and ideas that preoccupied Lenz, Sérusier, Severini and Gleizes, is not unaware of the weaknesses in their arguments. Each insists that “there are objective laws that are appropriate to liturgical art”, each insists that “they have found these laws, or at least elements of them” but “their laws are different” and none “succeeded in compelling those around them to accept their findings.”

So while Sérusier, Severini and Gleizes were each at the forefront of a Modern Art movement – Post-Impressionism, Futurism, and Cubism – and in their explorations of geometrical and mathematical rules for art were engaging in current debates and teasing out the implications of Cubism in particular, eventually their practises and arguments became more about theology and liturgy than the continuing development of Modern Art and the balance that was held initially between faith and art became subsumed by faith. The result was that Modern Art developed in alternative directions through different movements and the work undertaken by these artists and those around them has been overlooked, dismissed or treated as a footnote to their earlier work.

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Francis Poulenc - Ave Verum Corpus.

Thursday, 9 July 2009

Airbrushed from Art History (10)

The third circle of influence which emerged from the French Catholic Revival was that which developed around the cubist Albert Gleizes.

Bruce Arnold writes in Mainie Jellett and the Modern Movement in Ireland that:

“Gleizes was well known as one of the pioneers of Cubism. The paintings of Gleizes, Metzinger, Le Fauconnier, Delaunay and Léger had created a sensation at the Salon des Indépendents in 1911, comparable to the sensation caused by Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring performed in Paris two years later. This was before the general public became aware of Picasso and Braque, whose work was only well known to a small circle of private collectors. Although he is often dismissed as a minor follower of Picasso and Braque, Gleizes claimed that it was only in the autumn of 1911, after his own reputation as a Cubist was securely established, that he first saw their work ...

Together with Jean Metzinger ... Gleizes published the first major explanation and defence of Cubism – Du Cubisme – in 1912. He spent most of the war period in New York where he was closely associated with Marcel Duchamp and Francis Picabia ... It was in New York ... that he discovered the belief in God that was to play such an important part in his subsequent thinking, though it was not until 1942 that he finally became a practising Roman Catholic ... Gleizes returned to Paris in 1919 and in 1920 he attempted a synthesis of the Cubist experience up to that point in his Du Cubisme et les moyens de le comprendre.”

Shortly after, two Irish Protestant artists, Mainie Jellett and Evie Hone, asked Gleizes to become their teacher, although he had not to that point had any pupils. Arnold writes that, “Anne Dangar, a later pupil of Gleizes and friend of Mainie’s, ... says that Mainie and Evie had seen Gleizes most recent paintings prior to meeting him, and that ‘they had a construction which reminded them of the Irish books of the seventh century in the University of Dublin’.”

Gleizes “was moving towards a way of dividing the surface of the painting and putting it into movement without organically changing its nature, without creating the illusion of a third dimension. For this to be possible, a system of deriving the forms and colours of the painting from the inherent qualities of the surface itself had to be devised. To begin with, the only shape that was inherent was that of the canvas itself, the rectangle. But by moving the rectangle to the left or right, or up and down, and perhaps more importantly by oscillating it around its own axis, two distinct and basic concepts emerged – translation and rotation.” As he explained this to Jellett and Hone, Gleizes felt that “his two Irish pupils ... exacted from him the most powerful lesson any teacher gives, which is self-knowledge ... and he admitted that this may not have been possible without their calm yet relentless insistence. ”

Gleizes set out these new ideas in the book La Peinture et ses lois where he argued that:

“the new painting is at least in part a return to earlier principles of painting – principles that were widespread before the introduction of the perspective mechanism and which achieved one of their highest realisations in the painting, sculpture and architecture of the Romanesque period ...

Gleizes’ view of history was ... cyclical. He argued that Europe had passed through a cycle when its spiritual life was based on religious principles – the relations between man and God – but that since the thirteenth century a new, materialist, cycle had begun when all our attention and highest endeavours were turned towards the appearances of the external world about us. Painting began to observe the illusion of external space; ‘science’, understood in terms of the observation and analysis of matter, became increasingly important. The new needs felt by the Cubists, Gleizes argued, indicated that man was beginning to return to a religious cycle. The Romanesque period, whose importance Gleizes had already stressed in his essay, 'Le Cubisme et la tradition', published in 1913, was to become very fashionable among French non-representational painters of the 1930s and 1940s, though the paintings of Alfred Manessier, Maurice Estève and Jean Bazaine are still very different from those of Gleizes.”

Jellett and Hone remained pupils and a circle of artists gradually developed around Gleizes – including Robert Pouyaud, and Anne Dangar, among others. Pouyaud expressed the sense that these artists had of full absorption in Gleizes’ pictorial and spiritual system when he wrote in his 1924 memoir:

“As a result of our long discussions, our discoveries, our advances and mistakes, the doctrine of Albert Gleizes was clarified. It implications in the social domain are well-known: decentralization, return to the earth, a healthy life far from the towns, the rediscovery of natural rhythm, the rediscovery of the microcosmic function of humanity. At that time, all of these ideas went unheeded in the world about us, and we knew that we would have to live on the periphery of this society that Albert Gleizes used to condemn so virulently.”

In 1927, Bruce Adams writes in Rustic Cubism: Anne Dangar and the Art Colony at Moly-Sabata, Pouyaud sought Gleizes’ assistance to start a “normal life” on the land. Gleizes was “already considering the need for a spiritually satisfying retreat for his followers” and in October 1927 secured Moly Sabata, a disused old building at Sablons, for which the Pouyauds left Paris on 1st November in order to establish an artists’ commune. Soon, the Pouyauds were joined by the writer François Manevy and his wife, composer and violinist César Geoffrey and his wife, Mido, a pianist, and Anne Dangar, an Australian artist seeking tuition from Gleizes. The commune existed by means of agriculture and art (initially pochoirs – stencil prints – of Gleizes’ paintings and, later, Dangar’s development as a potter) and established a quasi-monastic Rule of Moly-Sabata which determined the daily division of labour among its members.

Communal life at Moly Sabata was, however, far from paradisal and in 1930 both the Pouyauds and Manevys left Moly Sabata making Dangar, by default, the primary source of support – through pochoirs and her pottery – for the commune as a whole. Adams’ book, Rustic Cubism, documents Dangar’s dedication “to the colony’s aims by working in the region’s village potteries, combining their vernacular elements with Gleizes’ design methods to arrive at a type of rustic Cubism.” Adams places Dangar “at the heart of Moly-Sabata’s alternative art movement” and argues that her work there was ultimately rewarded as “her pieces can today be found in the Musée Décoratifs in Paris, the Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, the Museo Internazionale delle Ceramiche in Faenza, the National Gallery of Australia, Canberra, and many other museums.”

Arnold argues that:

“Jellett revolutionized art in Ireland in the twentieth century. She became the central figure of the modern movement in Ireland and dedicated her life to promoting and developing a vital and positive attitude to art during the country’s difficult period of isolation and political instability.
... she became one of the chief exponents of an art concentrating on rhythm and movement, colour and form. Although her art was misunderstood and ridiculed for many years, she regularly exhibited in Dublin, London and Paris years before the work of such artists as [Ben] Nicholson and [Barbara] Hepworth was recognized in London. She was also a founder member of the group of avant-garde artists, Abstraction-Création.”

Arnold writes that with Gleizes “Mainie was able to develop a painting comparable in its intellectual complexity and human, spiritual, depth to the masterpieces of Celtic art.”

Hone, although loyal to and supportive of Jellett, “shunned the public eye and played no significant role in the leadership and education of a public trying to understand what modern art was about.” In 1933 she joined An Túr Gloine, a stained glass workshop set up by Sarah Purser, and later that year produced her first public work, three panels incorporated into a single window for Saint Naithi’s Church in Dundrum, County Durham. This initial commission was followed by many others, including windows at Blackrock College Chapel, King’s Hospital Chapel, Eton College Chapel, and Kingscourt Church, County Cavan. Peter Harbison writes, in The Crucifixion in Irish Art, that she became, with Harry Clarke, “one of the most outstanding Christian artists of her generation in Ireland and, indeed, in Europe.”

“She toured widely in Ireland, sketching a number of old stone carvings that, along with the art of Rouault, were to find echoes in her subsequent work.” Arnold notes her as saying “that stained glass demanded ‘an altogether different approach’ [which] she summarised ... in Matisse’s words: ‘Stained glass is coloured light, it is a luminous orchestra. There is no need of stories. If stained glass becomes again a symphony of colours it can find its place in any architecture’.”

Gleizes, as noted by Peter Brooke in his Afterword to The Aesthetic of Beuron and other writings, came to see his search for values, both in painting and society, as a return to “the spirit of the Benedictine order ‘which filled the greatest of the Christian centuries, from the fifth to the thirteenth’.” Gleizes argued that in the thirteenth century, the Benedictines had given way to the Dominicans and “a different spirit had entered the Church and into Western civilisation as a whole.” Gleizes viewed the Thomism of the Dominicans as representing “the intellectual values of the urban university” in contrast to the order of St Benedict which is “exclusively based on theology and for that reason preserving the order of life, at the scale of the individual, work with the hands as the necessary complement to intellectual work, authority of the agricultural countryside and restoration of monastic schools where culture and technique are clearly defined in the two categories of the trivium and the quadrivium.”

Yet, as has been noted in the ninth post of this series, many intellectuals at this time, “who had some intuitive feeling of the need for religion,” were turning to the teachings of the thirteenth century, to Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. Arnold notes that, by the 1930s Gleizes “was becoming increasingly aware of a marked tendency to underplay or ignore his contribution to the history of modern art.” Gleizes had remained developing Cubism as a movement when the interest of art critics and historians was in a succession of modern movements rather than the development of any one movement to its fullest potential and was also out of kilter with developments in the French Catholic Revival by emphasising the Benedictine rather than the Dominican tradition. Brooke writes that, in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, “the conflict Gleizes saw between this Augustinian spirit and the Thomist spirit took the very acute form of a public quarrel between Gleizes and Fr Pie-Raymond Régamy, a Dominican, director of the journal Art Sacré, and leading champion of the efforts to engage leading modern artists in the service of the Church.”

The Thomism of Régamy draws a sharp distinction between the ‘natural’ and the ‘supernatural’ which leaves artists free to develop their personal expression of the spiritual to the maximum of their powers and leads Régamy to argue that the Church should commission “the best artists of our time” asking them to “treat those subjects which best correspond to their temperament.” The early Augustinianism of Gleizes, however, stresses the continuity between ‘natural’ and ‘supernatural’ leading to a search for “objective laws that are appropriate to liturgical art.”

Both positions will be explored more fully in subsequent posts in this series although it should be noted that neither of the circles of influence or the ideas around Régamy (together with his colleague Fr Marie-Alan Couturier) and Gleizes have provided a sufficient foundation on which subsequent artists, art critics or theologians could build a substantial body of art commissions, theories or works.

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Francis Poulenc: Salve Regina.