Orbital, the book about six astronauts in space I recently reviewed, has won the Booker Prize.
I admit I have not read the other books on the short list—or rather, I am in the process of reading Rachel Kusk’s Creation Lake. I like her writing, and loved The Mars Room, but I’m finding this one slow going. Some of the others are tempting, though, and I will get to them eventually.
Photo: bdnews24.com
Nevertheless, even though I lack comparison, I think this book is a very worthy winner, being at once original, lovely to read and beautiful in every way.
Samantha Harvey nearly gave up writing the book at some point, because she felt like an impostor, never having been in space. But then she took it up again, during the pandemic, and watched hours and hours of streaming video from the International Space Station while writing. Thus she could observe Earth from space, actually completing whole orbits and describing what she saw. The result is nothing short of miraculous.
In her acceptance speech, Harvey said she wanted to dedicate the prize “to everybody who does speak for and not against the Earth; for and not against the dignity of other humans, other life; and all the humans who speak for and call for and work for peace.”
Harvey, 49, is the author of four previous novels, including “The Wilderness,” about a man with Alzheimer’s, which was longlisted for the 2009 Booker Prize, and 2018’s “The Western Wind,” about the mysterious death of a village’s wealthiest resident in medieval England. She also wrote “The Shapeless Unease: A Year of Not Sleeping,” a 2020 memoir about her struggles with insomnia.I’m tempted to try one or two.
Of course, a few people thought it a good idea to publish articles panning Orbital in comparison to the other books on the short list. Although of course everyone is entitled to their opinion—and all art appreciation is subjective—I thought it was in poor taste to do so today. It smacks of sour grapes. Let the woman enjoy her day of glory—they are hard enough to come by. So, congratulations, Samantha Harvey!
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.
Although I have been multiple times to the Panathenaic Stadium or Kallimarmaro (beautiful marble) every new visit strikes a fresh chord.
A truly magical place under the pure blue Attica sky
Built entirely of white marble, the stadium was first constructed on the site of a simple racecourse by the Athenian statesman Lykourgos c. 400 BC, primarily for the Panathenaic Games. It was rebuilt in marble by Herodes Atticus, an Athenian Roman senator, by 144 AD it had a capacity of 50,000 seats. After the rise of Christianity in the 4th century it was largely abandoned, but was excavated in 1869 and hosted the Zappas Olympics in 1870 and 1875. After being refurbished, it hosted the opening and closing ceremonies of the first modern Olympics in 1896.
The reason for my visit, a few days ago, was a Taekwondo event within the framework of the Together in Sport program, titled Together in Taekwondo.
More than 400 young Taekwondo athletes, boys and girls, took part in a series of competitions and poomsae.
As I entered the stadium an impressive number of black-belted teenagers were literally flying about in breathtaking movements—it was like watching a Ninja movie.
On the side, smaller kids in helmets were performing more basic moves.
In the second part of the event, young refugees of all ages and from a myriad countries mingled with the Greek kids and got a chance to try the sport for themselves.
Some of the action
Emotions ran high, there was much laughter and bantering as big boys tried various kicks while tiny girls in skirts spun cartwheels around them.
The event was rounded up with speeches, awards and gifts and there was also an art exhibition titled ‘We are all on the same team’, sponsored by the High Comission for Refugees, with drawings, posters and comics by 1.800 students of all ages.
The President of the Teakwondo Federation declared that it was a dream come true for them to find themselves in the historic stadium.
Photo by Lina
Together in Sport is a European project implemented by METAdrasi, an NGO helping refugees, in cooperation with the Hellenic Olympic Committee and the German Olympic Sports Confederation (DOSB)
The main aim of the project is to use sports as a social medium to give the chance to asylum-seeking children (from 7 to 17) to learn about and take part in organized sports—but also through sports to develop relationships with their peers from the local communities. The project enjoys the support of Μunicipalities in Attica and the rest of Greece.
Amongst the aims of the project is to cultivate and promote values like mutual respect, team spirit and intercultural tolerance—as well as improve the everyday life of these kids and enhance their sense of belonging.
The programme also includes recreational and cultural activities of an educational nature (visits to museums, archaeological sites, sports facilities etc.)
Photo by Lina
The above is to give some general information, but what was wonderful about this particular event was the sense of enjoyment in all present and the appreciation of being in such a unique place as the sun fell.
I’m sure by the time this is published, everyone will be groaning under a surfeit of lamb, mageiritsa, manouri, red eggs, and wine. And tsoureki.
If any new readers are interested in Greek Easter customs, I have written about them in earlier posts, which you can find here : https://athensletters.com/?s=Easter
Some time ago I subscribed to a site called Artwork Archive, one of a several available tools for managing artwork.
At first I just entered my drawings and paintings indiscriminately, using hastily made photographs, in order to keep track of the work I had, what had been given to people as gifts, and what had been sold. I never took the time or the trouble to use the multiple features offered, such as adding up expenses, generating invoices, or setting up a public profile.
The work can be organised as a portfolio, in the order of one’s choice, or sorted into collections
Then when I started entering art for online exhibitions or competitions, I kept getting asked for my website address, so I decided I now needed my own art website. After wasting numerous hours trying to choose between Word, Winx and Squarespace, and more hours attempting to navigate their sites, I belatedly realised the Artwork Archive Public Profile would do the job more than adequately.
It would save me from paying for another site, plus their client support is excellent.
Here is a random page showing the tools offered, and how the work looks in the portfolio mode
So if I have not posted anything here for a while, it is because I’ve been working on taking better photos, deciding which pieces to put on the public platform, and entering any relevant information. All this takes an inordinate amount of time…
Viewed as a portfolio
But here it is! Although it is still a work in progress, and will continue to be one as I make new work and improve my presentation and other parameters, I am now proud to reveal it to you.
Viewed as Collections
If you are interested in actually going on-site, here is a link.
Can one have a horrible life, punctuated by difficulties and tragedies and ending in extermination at Auschwitz, yet leave behind work that, despite its disturbing themes, is poignant, breathtaking and uplifting in its luminosity and colour?
This is the case of Charlotte Salomon, the only Jewish artist who died in the Holocaust to leave behind such a large body of work. It consists of 769 works painted between 1941 and 1943—a mere two years—while she was hiding from the Nazis in the South of France. In October of that year, 5-months-pregnant Salomon was captured and deported to Auschwitz where she was immediately killed.
Born to a prosperous and well-assimilated Jewish family in Berlin, Charlotte was 16 when the Nazis came to power. By 1938 it became too dangerous for her to continue her studies, so she left the art school she was attending, and after Kristallnacht she was sent to live with her grandparents in Nice; her father had been interned and, when her stepmother succeeded in freeing him, they left for Amsterdam. Her mother, suffering from depression, had committed suicide when she was eight.
After several attempts, her grandmother also succeeded in killing herself and Charlotte remained with her grandfather, who it appears was abusive. To escape him, she went to Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat where—in order to recover her mental sanity—she started painting; stating that she was driven by the question, “whether to take her own life or undertake something wildly unusual”.
Painting obsessively, in less than two years she produced more than 1.300 gouaches, amongst which she chose the 769 which she numbered and edited, adding text, captions and transparent overlays, to make a kind of autobiography outlining the main events of her life—speaking of herself in the third person, altering all the names and adding elements of imagination.
In 1942 she was obliged, due to her residence permit, to join her grandfather in Nice. Shockingly, shortly after, she poisoned him with a Veronal omelette, then drew him as he lay dead (the drawing exists). She made a 35-page confession which she sent to a former lover who, however, never received it; it remained a secret until much later.
In 1943, as the Nazis closed in, she packed up her paintings and gave them to a local doctor with instructions to forward them to Otillie Moore, a wealthy American who was her protector and sponsor. At war’s end, the package found its way to her remaining family.
In 1943, Charlotte had married Alaxander Nagler, another German Jew refugee, with whom she had been confined in Otillie Moore’s house for a while. Soon after their marriage, they were both deported and murdered.
I find it beyond me to talk about her work, which is based on film-making techniques and is extremely layered and complex; and one must also follow the narrative, in its dream-like dimension. It is, in some ways, a precursor to the graphic novel as we know it today. Although Salomon has always been classed as a Holocaust artist, her work—save for very few drawings—is not about the Holocaust: it is about her childhood, her very disfunctional family, her life and her loves. In the final pages of her book, two sentences stand out. She writes, ‘And with dream-awakened eyes she saw all the beauty around her, saw the sea, felt the sun, and knew; she had to vanish for a while from the human plane and make every sacrifice in order to create her world anew out of the depths.’
I have seen her paintings live in a couple of exhibitions, and they are simply wonderful. I have a book published by the Royal Academy of Arts, with colour reproductions, which I highly recommend.
More information:
Charlotte is a biography by David Foekinos, which I have not read yet, but which has excellent reviews. This is the Amazon link to the English version (the original is French).
Also there is a very interesting article in the New Yorker with more information than I have given on both her life and her work, and great images. Link below:
On a trip to London my fondness for portraits drew me, first, to the refurbished National Portrait Gallery. A few highlights below.
The Duke of Wellington, by Sir Thomas LawrenceHenry James, by John Singer SargentLucian Freud’s portrait of Irish writer Caroline Blackwood, after they had eloped to Paris together.A wonderfully quirky self-portrait by Raqib Shaw, The Final Submission in Fire on Ice. The detail is amazing if you zoom in.The beautiful Zadie Smith, by Toyin Ojih Odutola
Onwards to the National Gallery, to see the Franz Hals exhibition. One of the most important 17th-century Dutch artists, Hals was a portraitist par excellence, a virtuoso who painted mostly a la prima, without a preliminary sketch (this is difficult to imagine, given his assured brushstrokes and beautiful detail.)
His portraits possess a unique liveliness of expression, and he painted his subjects smiling or laughing, something few painters dared to attempt.
The Laughing Cavalier, one of his most famous paintings
He also portrayed people in informal positions, especially his friends…
…and was sought after by couples and families for his seemingly casual, yet carefully posed compositions, where the affection between the subjects is apparent.
The portrait of the young girl below was one of my favourites, due to the sweetness of her expression.
He was also great at painting hands, one of my predilections.
The lace cuff, the pearl bracelet…
My one caveat is that his sitters are not particularly attractive, if I may be permitted to say so. A fact impressed upon me as, going out of the exhibition, I came upon a portrait of a young man by Titian.
And another by Bronzino. Were Italians better looking than the Dutch, or did the painters idealise them more?
I then wandered into a small but stunning exhibition of the idiosyncratic painter Jean-Etienne Liotard. Born in Geneva, he travelled widely and was a master of pastel, a very delicate and subtle medium.
In 1754 he produced a masterpiece, The Lavergne Family Breakfast, which he sold to William Ponsonby, Viscount Duncannon, for the then princely sum of 200 guineas. Upon the latter’s invitation he went with him to Constantinople, where he stayed for four years, growing a long a bushy beard, adopting Turkish dress and calling himself the ‘Turkish Painter.’
I really find this lovely – the detail, the expression on the faces…
Having not seen his painting for twenty years, he then went back and made an exact replica in oil. This is the first time the paintings have been exhibited together.
On the left in oil, and on the right the original in pastel
Liotard sounds like a very amusing fellow, as well as being a most accomplished artist. However, having met the love of his life, he shaved off his beard, this being a condition of the marriage. He made numerous portraits in pastel, such as the one below of Lady Anne Somerset, looking much older than her fourteen years, with her cascading locks and plunging neckline.
I will end this post with the portrait of a horse, the beautiful Arabian stallion Whistlejacket, by George Stubbs. One of my favourite pictures in the National Gallery.
Letters from Athens 