In more news of my trip to Japan, one afternoon we went to the Mori Art Museum expecting to see contemporary art, only to find there was an exhibition on the architect Sou Fujimoto.
This proved to be fascinating, because he was inspired by the shapes in nature to create buildings which are both avant garde and pleasing to the eye.
Okayama smoking area. 2022
The exhibition consisted of maquettes of a variety of mostly public buildings, some of which had actually been built, while other had not, due to practical or financial considerations.
This is a plan (below) for an urban hub to be built along the Sava river in Belgrade, where ‘the building converts flows of people into architecture, creating a “cloud” of slopes that converge in a spiral.’ Pretty cool, no?
Béton Hala Waterfront Center. 2011 (conceptual) Belgrade
There was one mock-up, The Grand Ring for Expo 2025 Osaka, Kansas, which was impressive if one considered the scale.
A number of Fujimoto’s sketches on display gave insights into his thought processes, as did a video where he is interviewed and talks about his inspirations.
There was even a futuristic city made up of spherical units which ‘function as “breathing devices” rather than mere structures.’
‘In this future city, we define space not merely as a container, but rather a place where different values and life forms can meet and converse with each other.’ Perhaps we will have a need of cities like these when we have polluted our planet beyond redemption…
Meet Sanga, our overgrown and over enthusiastic puppy. In one day he ate my slippers, shredded my favourite pashmina and broke the lovely little plate above.
Butter wouldn’t melt…
Having got over my extreme annoyance and digested the fact that both slippers and pashmina were shot, I thought it would be an opportunity to try something which has intrigued me for a while: the ancient Japanese art of Kintsugi.
Kintsugi, which probably originated in the 15th century, is a method of repairing broken pottery by mending it with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold. People became so enamored of the new art that some were accused of deliberately smashing valuable pottery so it could be repaired with the gold seams of kintsugi. Sometimes a pottery piece was chosen for deformities then deliberately broken and repaired, instead of being discarded.
Kintsugi means “to join with gold” and it serves as reminder to stay optimistic when things fall apart and to celebrate the flaws and missteps of life.
Kintsugi encompasses a profound meaning and philosophy beyond mere repair, namely the idea of embracing imperfection and impermanence and transforming them into something valuable. It reflects an aesthetic perspective on the way people live, since from this perspective our life is like a vessel.
Not bad for a first try
A good Kintsugi vessel can be very expensive, because it requires months of intricate work. My plate was only broken neatly in two pieces, and I used glue mixed with gold powder (courtesy of YouTube) but I can assure you it is a messy and delicate procedure which ended in my kitchen looking as if a gold storm had hit it.
I am too impatient for the real thing, I’m afraid. Look at this:
Noted by his contemporaries for his powerful preaching, expert knowledge of scripture, and undying love and devotion to the poor and the sick, Saint Anthony of Padua (1195-1231) was one of the most quickly canonized saints in church history, being canonized less than a year after his death.
Born in Portugal of wealthy and noble parents, Anthony joined the Church early on and ended up in Italy after his ship was blown off course on a return journey from Morocco.
Although he died at 35, Anthony led a busy and varied life, preached in many places in Italy and France and performed many miracles. One can easily read about his life (there is a lengthy Wikipedia entry) but the reason I am writing about him is that I came, entirely by chance, upon this weird and wonderful detail of a mural in the Basilica di Sant’Antonio da Padova, of him preaching to a bunch of fish.
Just look at the expressions on those fish faces. Priceless
The story of Anthony “preaching to the fish” originated in Rimini, where he had gone to preach. When the Cathar heretics there treated him with contempt, Anthony was said to have gone to the shoreline, where he began to preach at the water’s edge until a great crowd of fish was seen gathered before him. The people of the town and even heretics flocked to see this marvelous thing and were moved to listen to Anthony’s preaching.
There are other paintings of this event, but this one has a special flavour to it.
Artist duo Elmgreen&Dragset were invited to exhibit their work in the iconic sculpture gallery of the Musée d’Orsay.
They called this installation, consisting of a number of boyish figures engaged in incongruous—in the context—pursuits, L’Addition.
Michael Elmgreen (born 1961 in Copenhagen, Denmark) and Ingar Dragset (born 1969 in Trodheim, Norway) have worked together as an artist duo since 1995, exploring the relationship between art, architecture and design.
Elmgreen&Dragset live and work in Berlin. They are known for art work that has wit and subversive humour, and also addresses social and cultural concern. Their work is too varied and prolific to be described in a short post, but anyone interested can look them up on Wikipedia—and they are, indeed, interesting.
For the first time in its history, the Musée d’Orsay invited someone to intervene in the museum’s permanent display of 19th century sculpture, which has remained the same for nearly 40 years.
As quoted in the museum’s site: In a trans-historical encounter between past and present, L’Addition highlights themes of evolving masculinities, solitude, and the magic of everyday situations. There is a certain beauty to be found in each of the fleeting moments captured in the works, whether it is in the pause before jumping from a diving board, the split second before a drone is sent off from a child’s hand, or a glimpse through the lens of a camera.
The figures are made of bronze, stainless steel and laquer. Boys waiting to dive, taking pictures from the mezzanine, setting off drones or just lounging upside down on the ceiling. It was all pretty cool, and an extra treat combined with the Caillebotte exhibition.
Amongst the lesser-known of the Impressionists, for the simple reason he was wealthy and did not need to sell his paintings in order to live, Gustave Caillebotte (1848-1894) is nevertheless a most interesting artist, because he had a unique take on things, using perspective and composition in original ways. He was very ‘modern’ for his time as well as more realistic in his technique than some of the others.
A lawyer and engineer, he fought in the Franco-Prussian war and upon his return frequented the Académie des Beaux Arts, as well as befriending several artists. The first painting he exhibited, of labourers working on a wooden floor, was criticised as “vulgar” (sweaty men doing a menial job) and rejected by the Salon of 1875. It is a masterpiece, if only for the light and perspective.
Rabatteurs de parquet, 1876 (détail)
Caillebotte painted many domestic scenes, depicting his family and friends in everyday pursuits.
A beautiful pastel, which does not really show to advantage in a photoI love the composition in this painting, the frame of the portrait replicated in the chair’s back, the diagonal made by the blue clothes…
He also loved sport and painted people rowing or sailing at the family’s Yerres estate. His technique of cropping or zooming in is original and gives a lot of movement to his scenes.
If I had painted this, I don’t think I would have thought to chop off the front of the first canoe, which is just sliding out of the picture.In this view the boats are coming towards usAnd here, seen from the back.I love this gentleman, who is not rowing for sport, only taking himself on a little jaunt in his city clothes.
Caillebotte also did many urban paintings, some from an elevated perspective, such as the one below.
His paintings of Paris give off a very special flavour of the city.
Two of the artist’s friends looking out towards the Boulevard Haussmannin this painting entitled Balcon (circa 1880)Le pont de l’Europe (1877)
He also made realistic studies of the human body and his paintings of males nudes were considered revolutionary, depicting ‘real’ men in domestic settings, instead of heroes in allegories.
Homme au bain, 1884 (note the wet footprints on the floor!)
Caillebotte used his wealth to support many of his fellow artists, notably Renoir—who was a close friend—Monet and Pissarro, amongst others. He died young, at the age of 45, of pulmonary congestion. He left behind an impressive body of work and bequeathed a large and varied collection—he had acquired many works from his fellow artists—to the French government. Here he is below, in one of those funny hats they all wore to row on the river. He looks like a jolly good sort.
Self portrait in a summer hat (circa 1873)
I was very lucky to visit the exhibition before the crows swarmed in, with a friend who is a Friend of the museum and holder of a card allowing early entry. A most impressive artist.
In 2004, the descendants of the Senn family made a donation of 205 pieces of art to the MuMa Museum in Le Havre. The collection, of mostly Impressionist and Fauve artists, was amassed by Olivier Senn and further embellished by members of his family. It includes works by such icons as Delacroix, Boudin, Monet, Renoir, De Chirico, De Staël and others. On the 20th anniversary of this major donation, the museum curated a major exhibition of the works.
Edgar Degas, pencil on paper
Born in Le Havre in 1864, Olivier Senn studied law and, after marrying, joined his father-in-law’s cotton business. Once he’d made his fortune, he started buying art. The Senns and their descendants and relatives by marriage were all art and music lovers, as well as generous donors.
Yesterday’s vernissage of the exhibition drew a large and very appreciative crowd, which thankfully spread out around the museum rooms, making it pleasant to wander about, admiring the works. The collection was too large to describe in full, so I will linger over some particular favourites, a set of lovely pencil drawings by Edgar Degas.
Degas, circa 1859-1861. This drawing, along with the one above and several others, were studies for a large oil painting titled Alexandre et Bucéphale
Another interesting work, probably in pastel, is the study below, for a painting called Semiramis building Babylon
Further little treasures among the works on paper were the small charcoal studies below, by Henri-Edmond Cross. A lesson in conveying much with but a few simple strokes.
Here’s a link for anyone who would like to see more:
I came upon this 2023 film by chance (the English title is Woman at Sea), but I’ve watched it twice, which is something I almost never do. I wanted my husband to see it—he loved it as well, and I appreciated details I had not noticed the first time. It is an underrated gem of a movie.
Photo: Google
Based on a book by Catherine Poulain, is a quiet movie, with almost no plot or dialogue, but don’t let this put you off. You become totally immersed in a world that is as strange to outsiders as it is real. The directorial debut of Dinara Drukarova, who also stars, it is the story of a young woman seeking to escape her past by looking for a job on a fishing vessel in Iceland.
She appears at the port, seeking employment in a strictly masculine world. We know nothing of her background or her motives for coming here. She has not fished before but, for some unexplained reason, she is determined to try. She appears frail but is tough and keen to earn her place amongst the men.
Adopted by a greying sea wolf who calls her Sparrow, she joins a team of men from different cultures, who will be closeted together on the boat for the duration of the trip.
Beautifully simple and incredibly evocative, the film is a powerful exploration of identity and individuality. It also showcases the loneliness of a life where people forced into intimacy by their circumstances, slowly coalesce into a team where they look out for each other, only for the partnership to dissolve when they reach land and each goes his own way to the next available job.
The cinematography is wonderful, depicting the high drama of life at sea and the brutal realities of commercial fishing, as well as the short moments of respite and rest where each can find it. The characterisation of the fishermen is subtle but well-developed, and the acting by all the cast is superb.
It is not cold yet, but the days are drawing short, and when I take the puppy out at 7.30 a.m. I wear a jacket and sometimes a woolly hat. The leaves are turning and some days there is mist on the ground.
We do get some brilliand days, though, and the beach is magic.
There are still flowers in the garden, and a few tomatoes. The crab apples are red, and the apples are ripening also.
The summer went by too fast, as usual, and the weather was not very inspiring—however, we did not get heatwaves, or a water shortage, or forest fires, as in Greece or other southern countries.
The puppy likes crab apples
We are fortunate to live near Deauville, which is a beautiful and lively town, with plenty going on at all times. Racing, polo, film festivals, exhibitions and more. We have lately acquired a cultutal center called Les Franciscaines, the conversion of an old nunnery, and there is always something on.
Back in March they put on an exhibition by the abstract artist Zao Wou Ki. It was a real treat to be able to see some of his paintings within 15’ of my house. I’ve written about him before. Here: https://athensletters.com/2018/09/25/awed-by-the-abstract/)
One of the highlights of the summer was an exquisite concert by the Japanese neoclassical composer Koki Nakano. I did not know what to expect, having never heard of him before, and in fact had never heard anything like it before—immersive soundscapes somehow combined with melody. In the La Chappelle, the small theatre placed in the former nunnery’s chapel, a grand piano was the only thing on the stage, its lid open and adorned with electronic devices. It was flanked by an electric keyboard.
Nakano played his own compositions, a mixture of electric and acoustic piano and I can honestly say one was more beautiful that the previous. The concert was called Oceanic Feeling. Sometimes he was accompanied by a dancer, the wonderful Tess Voelker from Chicago, since he is fascinatedby the relation between music and the human body.
This is the clip he had made of his music
The simplicity of the setup, the magical lighting, the elegant musician himself who addressed the audience between the pieces and even spoke in French, all made for a truly memorable evening.
Tokei(Tokyo) by Akira Yamagoshi. An aerial view with enchanting details. Zoom in to enjoy.
At the same time the centre put on an exhibition relating how the impressionists were inspired by Japanese art, which contained a few treasures.
Micro Fuji by Tiger Tateishi (1941-1998)
To finish off, sadly we could not see the northern lights which appeared over Europe. I have seen them once, in Iceland, and they were mostly green and yellow, whereas these were quite pink. So for your enjoyment I am posting a wonderful photograph by Deborah M. Zajak on her lovely blog Circadian Reflections (https://circadianreflections.com/2024/10/13/something-for-sunday-northern-lights/#respond) I urge you to take a look, she posts great photographs of birds and other stuff.
Some days ago I was happy to be invited to a picnic organised by a Paris art gallery, the Galerie Jocelyn Wolf, at a manor house in deepest Normandy. This was a very old building, renovated over the course of a few years by the gallery owner, Jocelyn, in order to provide a venue for artist residencies and a framework for exhibiting artworks, including outdoor sculptures.
After passing the Pont de Normandie, always a treat as driving over it is the next best thing to flying, I took a road winding through beautiful countryside and arrived literally in the middle of nowhere, where thankfully a small sign with PARKING on it gave a hint I was in the right place (to outward appearances, a rustic farm with various agricultural implements scattered around).
A gravel road led to the house itself, fronted by an orchard where I came upon a group of people sitting on the grass under the beautiful, ancient apple trees.
I joined them and someone thoughtfully provided me with a glass. Each group of three or four people shared a wicker basket of the most delicious local food: a loaf of fresh country bread, a variety of cured meats and cheeses, small radishes, a jar of rillettes, a brioche, punnets of berries—washed down with cool cider. Dogs and kids ran about.
Painting by Sosthene Baran
As we were finishing, a few drops of rain (it being Normandy, after all) made us gather up the remains and congregate for coffee in the kitchen, after which I went to explore the house. This has been left in a very primal state, with beautiful old doors renovated but unpainted, stone and brick exposed, and gallery-style electrics installed on wire tracks.
Windows on every side open on pristine, unspoilt countryside and there is a huge open space attic. The whole thing is in impeccable taste and a fitting framework for all sorts of art.
Sculptures by Christof Weber
The rain having stopped, I went for a tour of the garden to see the sculptures installed there, some actually in the pond behind the house.
Sculpture by Francisco Tropa
The afternoon concluded with a performance by two artists represented by the gallery, Prinz Gholam, who struck poses taken from famous sculptures while wearing a series of fascinating masks.
Letters from Athens 