Chinese Warrior Prints

Music Quartet

This set is not yet finished, but is a set of abstract pictures representing different types of music; Percussion, Strings, Woodwind/Brass and Piano. These are just rough ideas and the set is incomplete. The figures playing are purposely a little ambigious and are not meant to be explicitly idendified as male or female as they are meant to represent the soul.

 Percussion (Incomplete Background)

 Strings (Incomplete Background)

Woodwind/Brass (Incomplete)

Art Deco Lady Print

Afghanistan Crossraods of the Ancient World (British Museum)

Afghanistan (3 March-3 July 2011) at the British Museum is an exploration of a country at the heart of an ancient crossroad, a rich pocket of colonies, Greeks, Kushan Kings and as bold bead on the necklace of the Silk route.

Famed in ancient times for the richness of its natural resources, lapis, gold and rubies Afghanistan has perhaps indeed been neglected as an area of cultural interest, mainly due to its unfortunate recent history. In his opening introduction to the accompanying catalogue Omar Sultan, the Deputy Minister of Information and Culture of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan laments the perilous situation of Afghanistan’s cultural heritage, including its folkloric music, calligraphy, tile work and painting (Afghanistan Crossroads of the Ancient World, Ed. Hiebert and Cambon, 2011. p.23). The recent volatile political life of the country has somewhat sadly resulted in a relatively infertile climate for the arts, arresting their progress and an effort for their revival is being called for. For this the British Museum’s cooperation is truly praiseworthy (I was fortunate enough to go to see the Bactrian gold treasures at an exhibition in Turin in 2007 and was very impressed.)

Some of the treasures on display, the Bactrian Gold, featured in the National Geographic in March 1990 and was the discovery of Soviet archaeologist Dr. Viktor Sarianidi. On excavating the tombs at Tillya Tepe, from where some of the most stunning objects of gold on display were on display, Dr. Sarianidi remarked “A nomadic princess from ancient Bactria looked straight at us after being hidden for 2,000 years.” This is archaeology at its most romantic, the unearthing of spectacular treasures and the burials of ancient royalty. For this reason Sarianidi’s excavation very much epitomises the classic treasure hunter archaeologist of public imaginings, compounded by the sad revelation of a local Afghani farmer who sits melancholically at the edge of the digs and relates that his wife chased him from the house saying “All my life you kept me in poverty, with gold lying under your feet everyday!” (p.213.) There is something as terribly poignant in this as there is exciting in picturing Sarianidi uncovering the princess with all her jewels as we view them in the exhibition, glittering and shimmering.

Particularly magnificent as treasure is the folding golden crown, formed of beautifully crafted, individual leaves and flowers in worked (hammered) gold sheet. This nomadic crown quivers upon its plinth as if an autumn bough in the breeze, touched by sunlight. It is left to the modern viewer to trace backwards in their mind and adorn an ancient wearer with such item and imagine the effect this may have created in a contemporary onlooker.

However, before reaching this chapter in the exhibition and in Afghanistan’s history we are lead through its Grecian influenced period. Particularly interesting are some of the remains from the Temple of Niches (2^nd century BC)  at Aï Khanum. One of which is a very Grecian looking head, the gender of which is ambiguous, with a wistful expression. Traces of red pigment on the right cheek seem to suggest the head was originally gilded in gold leaf (the remnants are indicative of an adhesive.) The sex is ambigious as its expression, seen as stern yet tender is very much characteristic of feminine forms in Greek art, yet the hairstyle, of tight curls about the forehead, is typically masculine. So the gender as is the purpose of this allusive face remains a mystery to us. (Ironically Khanum means ‘Lady!’) I was taken back to some of the androgynous statues on display at the Afghanistan exhibition in Turin with a note that hermaphrodites were considered godlike and hence divine (perhaps an Indian influence, which is evident in some of the ivory works on display in the exhibition, which also display some similarities to their precedents from Phoenicia, perhaps not surprising considering it Phoenicia that was famed and introduced fine works for furnishings and decor in ivory, c.10^th century BC.)

The sensuality of the Indian Ganga Goddess figurines from 1^st century Begram seem almost to audaciously unveil the image of the Burka-clad woman that epitomises present Western imaginings of the Afghan lady.  In Afghanistan, seems the assertion, lived and breathed a culture every bit as celebratory of the female form as their surrounding Greek, Indian and Mesopotamian counterparts.

During the introductory film at the beginning of the exhibition it is emphasised that people today in Afghanistan have fought to protect such objects of art from raids, such as those conducted by the Taliban in 2001, on the National Museum of Afghanistan in Kabul. It is their “very act of silence that keeps the objects safe.” These elements combine to make us aware of a subtle political agenda manifest within this exhibition. Despite the constantly expressed ideal, one that I agree with, that such objects from our past should be kept out of reach from political ideologies and viewed for what they can otherwise be, vital clues in deciphering a collective human endeavour, we cannot render these objects apolitical. Such works of art, devotion and prestige are inevitably deployed as signifiers of a Nation and National identity. As such, objects from the past can be ideologically implemented to both destructive and constructive ends in human conflicts.  Likewise, the display, destruction or interpretation of objects cannot help but communicate the ideals of those who have thus arranged them. Hence, the visitor is unfortunately given a sense that this exhibition has also become a project to justify the current situation in Afghanistan by demonstrating the West’s ongoing history as liberator democratising the East in the area. This message seeps through the ‘salvation’ of the female through a celebration of its nudity every bit as sensual as that found in classicism and the display of Greek images slashed by the Tailiban during a raid.

Being considered as 'Western' within this artifical diachotomy, doesn’t however make all these sentiments ring true to me on a personal level. Yes, it is sad to see historical evidence tampered with and denigrated and I am utterly for its defence, but injustices against real bodies is a much greater, more overwhelming crime. Confessedly this is more a personal response related to my own sensitivities towards the presentation of the political in this exhibition and is not intended as a criticism of the curation of the exhibition per se. I find these works of art beautiful in themselves and a truly wonderful rendition of beauty. There are many people who suffer under extreme forms of ideologies throughout the world, perhaps there are extreme views that judge the body as shameful. This is certainly not what I would class as an Islamic view, it is a fundamentalist view; and fundamentalism can be of any ideology taken to an extreme wherein it becomes deconstructive. What is oppressive is the lack of choice rather than the form in which an individual’s beliefs take shape. For us the naked body may culturally signify complete liberation, or else utter humiliation, it may signify simply another manner of being portrayed or of existing, perhaps the most natural and human of states. But here, I cannot help but view it, on the one level in the context of the exhibition as a surprisingly political metaphor and on the other, deeper level, as a humbling celebration of our humanity made to reflect on our own condition as well as that human achievement of a highly developed ability of self contemplation and reflection.  Therefore, my only criticism of the exhibition and perhaps of the exhibitions at the British Museum dealing with Middle Eastern cultures in general over the last few years, is the manner in which they meditate upon the political aspects of the archaeologies context. It is utterly necessary to also raise awareness of this political context in view of the extreme dynamics of this area’s recent history and of the threats this poses to archaeological heritage. However, I found myself too conscious of this aspect, when I should have preferred a little more space to reflect on the humanity and artistry of the objects so beautifully crafted, without such political ruses. Although this may sound a detached and self-indulgent preference I feel it necessary in a sense to avoid these presentations reflecting a bias that omits our own culpability and instead a little self-congradulatory. This injects an otherwise noble enterprise with a sense of ulterior political agenda. 

Looting is an issue that breaks all archaeologists’ hearts and poses a serious threat to historical heritage across the world. However, it is in itself a much more complex issue that would be suggested on the surface. After all, one cannot blame the war-devastated individuals who sell off their antiquities to a gluttonous Western Antiquities market to feed themselves or gain after so many losses. Morally we cannot condemn a situation we have partially created in countries like Iraq. Another perspective is that a heritage crises is preferable, however terrible, to the worse spectre of a humanitarian crises.  As an inspiring archaeologist I would still rather the loss of an ancient site if it would in any way alleviate the suffering of living people than loss of human life or wellbeing, though rarely does such a hypothetical situation arise and if so is more conceivable in the face of natural disaster.  The primary argument against looting I feel remains that the intrinsic value of an object is dwarfed by its importance as a piece in the jigsaw of our past and its context. Even so, paradoxically there is a danger that in condemning looting we are in some way still subjecting the use of a material past culture to our own fetishes and stunting the progression of human expression. Archaeology is a vehicle at the end of the day and not a destination. We do not arrive at the gateway of Meneas or stand on the steps of Ephesus and feel we have concluded our journey. The object is merely the beginning of an inner understanding of a past world we long for and can never fully conceive of. We attempt it mainly to facilitate our progression into the future and should it become a retrogression I would start to question the good of my discipline. Medieval people used Roman brick to reconstruct new buildings and we do not lament the removal of this brick from its original context, in fact it is a novel and interesting part of the archaeology, a riddle that delights us. I would condemn looting as much as the next person, but I have begun to question whether we are in danger of a beginning to treat a real threat as an ideological fad.

Reference: Ed. Fredrik Hiebert and Pierre Cambon, Afghanistan Crossroads of the Ancient World. The British Museum Press, 2011.

In Brief: A wonderful celebration of Afghanistan’s rich material culture and artistic heritage. A fascinating exploration, through stunning objects, of a comparatively neglected history within the Middle East as a region of study. A commendable project beautifully executed by the British Museum. The political comments heavily support western intervention, in some sense a real necessity to aid protection of heritage, communicated however a little clumsily and come across too consciously and a little self-congratulatory.

Verdict: A must see, it's visually stunning objects have a fascinating historical context. 

Treasures from Afghanistan (British Museum)

Afghanistan (3 March-3 July 2011) at the British Museum is an exploration of a country at the heart of an ancient crossroad, a rich pocket of colonies, Greeks, Kushan Kings and as bold bead on the necklace of the Silk route.

The sensuality of the Indian Ganga Goddess figurines from 1^st century Begram seem an audacious unveiling of the Burka-clad Afghan lady that epitomises present Western imaginings. In Afghanistan, seems the assertion, lived and breathed a culture every bit as celebratory of the female form as their surrounding Greek, Indian and Mesopotamian counterparts. During the introductory film at the beginning of the exhibition we are in fact told that people today in Afghanistan have fought to protect such objects of art from raids such as those conducted by the Taliban in 2001 on the National Museum of Afghanistan in Kabul. It is their “very act of silence that keeps the objects safe.” These elements combine to make us aware of a subtle political agenda. Despite the constantly expressed ideal that such objects from our past should be kept out of reach from political dissidents and viewed for what they are, vital clues in deciphering a collective human endeavour we cannot render these objects apolitical in that they are also inevitably signifiers of a Nation and National identity. As such, objects from the past are inevitably employed to both destructive and constructive ends in human conflict.  The display, destruction or interpretation of objects cannot help but communicate the ideals of those who have thus arranged them. Hence, in this sense the visitor is given a sense that this is another project aimed at liberating and democratising the East, only here it is through the salvation of the female form from its consignments in the people’s imaginings and the rescuing of Taliban slashed Greek images. This is a celebration and iconographic cementing of East West relations in union against the fundamentalist Islamic other.      

Riches of the Nomadic tribes. The folding golden crown, formed of beautifully crafted, individual leaves and flowers in worked (hammered) gold sheet, quivers upon its plinth as if an autumn bough in the breeze, touched by sunlight. It is left to the modern viewer to trace backwards in their mind and adorn an ancient wearer with such item and imagine the effect this may have created in a contemporary onlooker.

Looting is an issue that breaks all archaeologists’ hearts and poses a serious threat to historical heritage across the world. However, it is in itself a much more complex issue that would be suggested on the surface. After all, one cannot blame the war-devastated individuals who sell off their antiquities to a gluttonous Western Antiquities market to feed themselves or gain after so many losses. Morally we cannot condemn a situation we have partially created in countries like Iraq. Another perspective is that a heritage crises is preferable, however terrible, to the worse spectre of a humanitarian crises.  As an inspiring archaeologist I would still rather the loss of an ancient site if it would in any way alleviate the suffering of living people than loss of human life or wellbeing, though rarely does such a hypothetical situation arise and if so is more conceivable in the face of natural disaster.  The primary argument against looting I feel remains that the intrinsic value of an object is dwarfed by its importance as a piece in the jigsaw of our past and its context. Even so, paradoxically there is a danger that in condemning looting we are in some way still subjecting the use of a material past culture to our own fetishes and stunting the progression of human expression. Archaeology is a vehicle at the end of the day and not a destination. We do not arrive at the gateway of Meneas of stand on the steps of Ephesus and feel we have concluded our journey. The object is merely the beginning of an inner understanding of a past world we long for and can never fully conceive of. We attempt it mainly to facilitate our progression into the future and should it become a retrogression I would start to question the good of my discipline. Medieval people used Roman brick to reconstruct new buildings and we do not lament the removal of this brick from its original context, in fact it is a novel and interesting part of the archaeology, a riddle that delights us. I would condemn looting as much as the next person, but I have begun to question whether we are in danger of a beginning to treat a real threat as an ideological fad.

(to be completed...)

Pina (Film by Wim Wenders)

Pina (Film by Wim Wenders)

Pina Bausch glimmers as a wonderful jewel in the history of contemporary dance through Wender’s depiction of her choreography. Her choreography appears raw, subtle, at times filled with spiritual melancholy, at others utterly and almost frighteningly human. The exuberance of the water dance epitomised the wonder we feel on interacting with the elements during infancy. The fascination of Pina with the elements is delightful and emerges through her dance as the expression of a very human awareness of our own origins from those elements and in a sense the desire to return to them, to a state of simplicity, to the primordial womb of the earth and cosmos. This consciousness of surrounding substance from which we are both well defined and yet submerged has a wonderful effect on the onlooker’s perception of the dancers’ bodies, which appear to simultaneously materialise from and blend back into a matrix, of air, water, earth. Her choreography for Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring is terrifying and yet moving. The dance opens with a solitary female form writhing sensuously, the red cloth spread beneath her signifying the menstrual blood and awakening sexuality. All that follows is then, like Said’s description of Glenn Gould’s playing, “passion without sensuality,” as the movements become tribal and nightmarish. Her choreography for Rite of Spring however moves as a beautiful and tragic depiction of the loss of innocence and of the startling power of sexual passions.

Her Cafe Muller is a stunning exploration of relationships (used in Pedro Amalvodar’s Habla Con Ella). Commencing with a woman moving across the stage with eyes shut, placing blind faith in her male counterpart to move the chairs that are strewn across her path. Another figure mysteriously appears on stage and redirects the comportment of the lovers, moving her lips towards the man into a loving kiss, placing the arms less tightly about one another and finally placing the lady in the man’s arms. The man continues to drop the woman after which she returns to a frantic, passionate embrace that almost obscures the two separate figures. The figure appears on stage again to try to rearrange the attitude of the lovers. It is a very interesting part of the dance. Who is the stranger? Is he an angel or divine force trying to aid the lover’s intimacy, explaining and correcting the imperfections of human love? Is he in fact society, attempting to conventionalise the love and break up the intimacy through creating ideals of how the two should express love? Is he an artist idealising the forms created by loving by turning the messy reality of passion into cliqued formations? Is he even a lover, who is intervening in the dynamics of their relationship.  Whichever the interpretation drawn at the end the man cannot seem able to support the weight of his beloved and repeatedly drops her as a result, suggesting the fallibility of that human love.

(to be continued....)

Manon (Jules Massenet)

Manon (Royal Opera House, Thursday 28^th April 2011.)

Manon, a narrative derived from the Abbé Prévost’s  L’Historie du Chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaux, is set to Jules Massnet’s (1842-1912) score and choreographed by Kenneth MacMillan. 

Much has been made of MacMillan’s ability to convey the human condition through dance. This was very evident from the impression this production seemed to leave on the audience. Having just seen Pina, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons and, although much more traditional in scope and less revolutionary than the Tanzhauser, there are some of the same stresses in MacMillan’s work, though set within a more traditional setting. This is not the same idealised world of most opera and ballets, which sometimes as a result can create the impression of sheer escapist drama. The human body becomes a vehicle, in most ballets for a striving towards perfection of the emotions and almost magical absence of gravity both in corporal and emotive terms. I am used to more traditional ballet being ethereal, a return to innocence and infancy, a world of villains and heroes. Manon as a plot lends itself to more complex physiological probing and it seems that MacMillan’s repertoire generally reflects the appeal of darker subject matters alongside the more traditional ballets (support). It is surely however the superb and slightly revolutionary style of his choreography that allows this ballet to deliver stunningly unexpected responses in the audience. Lescaux’s (danced by Ricardo Cervera) drunken dance with his mistress (danced by Laura Morera) at Madame ‘s hôtel particulier permits ballet to become comical, provoking laughter from much of the audience. Before Manon I had not realised ballet could prove comical (Elite Synocopations epitomising Macmillan’s sense of the comic in Ballet).  The contrast of Morera’s grace as Lescaux’s mistress with the brilliantly timed and acted drunken movements of Cervera’s Lescaux was both a delight to behold, aesthetically and comically and also an intelligent use of ballet to explore both itself as a medium and what it can divulge about the human condition. Dance in a sense is the exploration of human relationships, the dynamics of courtship but its formulaic tradition had endangered the true spirit of dance as innate expression of human desire. It established too many conventions that idealised and enshrined an unrealistic concept of love as some sort of rite of passage ultimately resulting in the attainment of spiritual and sexual fulfilment. It was wonderful to see dance being a parody of itself, questioning and mocking the artificiality of such artifices. I enjoyed the psychological intensity of the ballet, its desire to use the human body to express the fluency of its silent language in a way that cannot be conveyed through words.

Roberta Marquez was a wonderful Manon and surely as principal her performance was mesmerising, fascinating and persuasive as the innocent seductress. Again the choreography conveyed what rests at the heart of many of the narrations inspired by Manon Lescaux, the concept of the innocent seductress. Patrick O’Connor explores the idea of Manon as such in his chapter for the Manon programme “The Lust of Fools and Slaves,” wherein he looks at similar female roles such as Lolita, Greta Garbo’s performance of the opera singer Rita Cavallini in Romance amongst others. Certainly Manon’s fate is tragic. Her reduction from the vibrant and gregarious beauty to the broken prostitute a terrible destiny emotively rendered and sympathetically portrayed. The Port Dance in Act III Scene 1 is the most poignant of the ballet, despite final scene of the Swamp and Manon’s death being its tragic climax. The final climax is arguably not as poignant as this port scene for the same reason that Dumas quoted by O’Connor, on the difference between Manon’s death and that of Marguérite in La dame aux Camélias, there is redemption in Manon’s death as though her final desert is literal “... the desert of the heart, a more barren, a vaster, a more pitiless desert than that which Manon had found her last resting place.” Arguably this death in the arms of her beloved is less terrible to behold than the moment in which she is bound as a prostitute, arrested and then raped by the gaoler. Act III Scene 2 at the gaoler’s expresses some of the savageness of MacMillan’s choreography (The Poltroon a work where this feature of Macmillan’s work is noted by Jann Parry, Manon Programme p.34) The rape scene in particular puts to shame the coy attitudes of Renaissance sculptural depictions of such physical violation that is surely more in keeping with traditional ballet. For this moment the gaoler (danced by Thomas Whitehead) stands menacingly over the cowering figure of Manon, slowly thrusts his groin forwards and then with his back to the audience enacts a sequence suggesting the violation of the young girl. It is a terrible moment to watch, happening so quickly and unexpectedly. It is savage without somehow being vulgar. At this point the Gaoler is murdered by Des Gieux and the two flee to the swamps, Manon denounces the material world. A bracelet is used both at the beginning, aptly resembling a shackle, to which she happily succumbs at the beginning of the ballet, signifying her willing compliance in effectively selling herself for material comforts. After the rape and her literal degradation as a prostitute the bracelet enforced upon her by the gaoler is ripped from her wrist in distaste and the two dancers melt towards the next scene and oblivion.

(Historical Context).

Despite its setting being both anachronistic (moved from regency to 18^th/19th? century) and period what does its production mean to the contemporary audience? Said has made interesting points on the work of Sellar in regards to the way he staged Mozart Operas in very modern settings as well as tendencies to fossilise certain concepts. It is certainly to the detriment of any art to stagnate within any set of conformities and perhaps even impossible for it to remain untouched, whether that is through the way it will be interpreted through performance or through the observation. Manon is startling pertinent, despite being thought to possibly depict women with unmitigated misogyny I find it incredibly compassionate. It isn’t so much a struggle of gender, though certainly Manon deals with the complexes of Game Theory within relationships, this battle of seduction and the tension it necessitates between self-sacrifice and self-preservation is a dilemma to both sexes. Manon is both manipulated and manipulator, though both roles are conducted in innocence and the same is true of her courters, Monsieur G.M  is manipulated through his lust and manipulates through employing his wealth, in a sense the dynamics are expressed through the card game of Act II scene 1. Des Grieux cheats in the game, but he does so out of love of Manon. Manon is manipulated because of her own hedonism and uses her sexual appeal to attain this. However, despite these darker human responses within the characters the ultimate message is one of liberation through learning to love. What constrains the characters is a common human fallibility, not the innate deviations of one gender leading the other astray, human beings lead each other astray but ultimately resolve in absolution. Love in Manon hence becomes not the traditional set piece of most idealised romances or poisoned love affair, it is about the suffering of humankind and finding what it means to love in an adverse cosmological order. In other words, love as originates from the human condition, a love that must contend with outside an inner constraints and imperfections both in the world and within the individual protagonists. Manon’s world will always be pertinent so long as social injustices exist, for her and her lover are arguably fore-mostly affected by a world eager to buy them off to satiated its own and their own fetishes for the material.