sábado, 15 de septiembre de 2018

Idols: The Power of Images (Palacio Loredan, Venecia, Septiembre de 2018-Enero de 2019)































































Fotos: Tocho, septiembre de 2018

la Fundación Giancarlo Ligabue de Venecia acaba de inaugurar, en el palacio veneciano de Loredan- sede de la Academia de Bellas artes y de letras-, una gran exposición sobre figurillas antropomórficas del Mediterráneo, del Valle del Indo, y de Centroasia, de los cuarto y tercer milenios, que responden a características formales parecidas: Ídolos. El poder de las imágenes.

Según la comisaria, la comisaria honoraria del Louvre, Annie Caubet, en este periodo se produjo, en esta zona tan extensa -y posiblemente en todo el mundo- una nueva manera de relacionarse con el mundo, con el más allá (el mundo de los muertos, los espíritus, los dioses -si es que éstos ya existían), a través de signos esquemáticos, ya sea pictogramas (signos gráficos), ya sea a través de grafismos (ornamentación cerámica, quizá una pre-escritura) y de estatuillas no naturalistas -en pueblos familiarizados con el naturalismo, sin embargo, lo que podría sugerir que la manera de componer dichas figuras tendería a ser una "manera" esquemática de transcribir o de fijar una visión del mundo natural o, sobre todo, sobrenatural.

La exposición incluye figuras de la Península Ibérica, Malta, Chipre, Creta, las Cícladas, Egipto prefaraónico, Levante, Mesopotamia, Arabia, Anatolia, Centro Asia y el valle del Indo, procedentes de colecciones públicas y privadas.

Algunas obras, como una cabeza sumeria de cristal de roca, son excepcionales, y son el testimonio de los intercambios culturales y comerciales entre culturas muy distintas, toda vez que dicho material no se hallaba en toda Mesopotamia.


Se incluye en esta entrada un texto del catálogo sobre los ídolos oculados (ídolos placa e ídolos cilíndricos) ibéricos:


« L´œil était dans la tombe et regardait…» (« The Eye was in the Tomb and Was Looking at…”)


Pedro Azara (UPC-ETSAB, Barcelona)

He, She or It is on my desk while I am writing this text. His, her or its eyes, drilled, black and profound, are “looking” at me: eyes or whatever this sharp deep holes are or mean. I cannot write without a certain uneasiness near He, she or It…
He, she or It is embodied in an incised white stone short cylinder. This may have been broken: the cylinder may have been longer, maybe twenty centimetres high, more or less.
Is it –was it considered- an object or an image? Is he or she a living, mortal or immortal being? A male or female being? Can we answer to these questions? Are they really important? Can we look and judge this item or being as people from antiquity, related to it, she or he, did? Until the mid-fifties the answer was clear and always the same: the item was the image of a mother goddess. Is “it”?     
This small sculpted and engraved cylinder is an Iberian “eye idol”[1].  The expression is incorrect. It belongs to a period far before the Iberians –a collective name for different Mediterranean cultures, a mixture of local, Greek and Phoenician traditions, from the second half of the first millennium BC, not long before the Roman conquest-, between the fourth and the third millennia BC. Found principally in archaeological sites in the South of Spain, these “idols” are shape like elongated stone or marble cylinders with engravings. Among them, drilled holes surrounded by incised rays and sometimes circles at the head of the cylinder, and profoundly incised zigzag horizontal or vertical lines –as if suggesting long hair in a simplified way. Most of the “eyes” have small eyebrows over them, and sometimes curved vertical lines on each side that frame the hypnotic gaze, due especially to the so small and round “eyes”: it seems that they will never close. 
I am using words appropriate to name parts of a living being: eyes, eyebrows, hair; sometimes, even arms. Ae they correct? Are they really “idols”? The “eyes” that look like eyes of howls, and the fact that howls were the symbol of a Greek goddess (Athena), have been a clue to interpret them as images or embodiments of female divinities. The design of the circular eyes with rays or sun-eyes appears also in small thin gold plaques –we can figure that the quality of the metal may have been associated with the radiance of the sun- deposited near the cylindrical idols. Gods and goddesses never sleep, contrarily to human beings. So these items have been considered divine figurines. Could they have been or could they have represented other mortal or immortal beings? 
A recent archaeological find has brought some light to these objects. Until now, they have been excavated without any study of the site where they have been found. The provenance was unknown as they came from illegal or undocumented excavations. The Museum of Huelva exhibits a stunning collection of cylindrical “idols”, presented in well light showcase as if a minimal contemporary installation. They were all discovered in the archaeological site of La Orden-Seminario, located in the area of the city of Huelva. Twenty nine idols, from two tombs, were found. They constitute the most important find in the Iberian Peninsula.  Dated from the very early fourth millennium BC, they were in a perfect state. Even if they were founded lying on the ground –due to the fall of the vault-, it seems that they were standing and that they were not moved. The collection may tell us about what they may have signified.  These “idols” were not deposit alone. There were not intended to be appreciated our used alone. They belong to a group. This group was standing on a tomb. Their function and their meaning were related to the Netherworld, whatever this was. There were not lying on the ground, as a dead being, or an offering, but, in spite of the narrowness of the base they were, they were standing up –as a living being? They were not alone in the tomb. Ceramics were also deposit. So they belonged to a burial offering. But their function was not utilitarian. They did not contain goods. They could express the wealth of the living – their shape needed a complex and articulate work maybe of different artisans-, or they could “looked” after the dead. In the first case, they symbolise richness and generosity, in the second case, they express ties between living and dead people, anguish or fear, and their function maybe was to put in contact both the living and the dead, and to maintain these ties. They were representing the living, as being in touch with the dead for ever. They may be not represent any supernatural being, but the living who were trying to be near their dead relatives –and at the same time keeping them in the Netherworld.   
The so-called Iberian idols or figurines from the Neolithic and the Chalcolithic are of, as in any culture, very different shapes depending on the epoch and the location. Among them, some of the most outstanding figurines are the Chillarón idol (Cuenca Museum), a spherical double “idol” –a male and female semi-spherical figures united by the circular base, maybe twins or an hermaphrodite, a sign of singularity- from the III-II millennia BC, or an “eye idol” in the shape of a sort of tri-dimensional X –there are some others-, as a figure with wide opened legs or as if two figures were united by the belly (Provincial Archaeological Museum, Badajoz). These two are quite different from “idols” found in the Mediterranean area, the Rena white marble male figurine from the III millennium BC (Badajoz Museum) is surprisingly similar to Sardinian figurines, even if the way the hair is incised remembers the same representation in the Iberian cylindrical eye “idols”. Others could be compared to similar Mediterranean figurines. The raised pointed short “arms” of the large Artana “idol” (III millennium BC) (Archaeological Museum, Borriana) (Fig.5), of 52 cm high, sculpted in limestone but quite eroded, are similar to some “arms” of some of the plaque idols –about which we are going to write now-, but the Artana figurine (if it is an ancient figurine) raises questions with no answers yet as it had been discovered in the twenties in a Muslim cemetery, and it may come from decoration of an Islamic building – having not been interpreted then as a figurine but as an abstract motif, maybe a sort of sacred stone.
 These cylindrical idols do look quite different from other Mediterranean figurines. Another type, the called grey plaque-idols, made of slate, may be more familia, but they constitute a large group of almost two thousand figurines –if there are figurines- found all in the south of the Iberian Peninsula (Spain and Portugal). What are they and what do they represent, if we can find an answer?  
The plaque idols, also from the third millennium BC, found, as the cylindrical figurines, in some sites in the south of the Peninsula, have traditionally been interpreted as divine images: images of a mother goddess, the same protective and pacific Mediterranean goddess supposedly followed by all pre-historic cultures. This conventional interpretation may or must be questioned for different reasons. The first one is that not all plaques have anthropomorphic features at all (features that are drilled or incised eyes and sometimes eyebrows and sculpted raised arms on both sides of the plaque. Incised “eyes” and one or two drilled holes at the “top” can cohabitate, suggesting that, when edges are worn-out, the plaque may have been used or reused as a pendant). So they may not even be anthropomorphic figurines at all. Except for some larger plaques (as in the Archaeological Museum in Sevilla), most have a similar size. They fit in a hand. They can be hold (as a blade or a flint, for instance). The plaques are always covered with incised geometric patterns: triangles –interpreted as prominent vaginas, which is a strange lecture as these triangles are incised on the whole body of the item-, squares, vertical, horizontal or curved lines. Sometimes, horizontal lines divide the plaque in two, suggesting an articulate anthropomorphic body.  Most of the time adapted to the trapeze shape (with round corners), a shape vaguely evocative of a flint stone. The motifs do not seem to be representative. They are not or they cannot associated with any anthropomorphic feature.
However the patterns are similar to textile ones. Do they represent clothes?  Textile patters were not just decorative. They were ways of register important data for the life of a community. They were a sort of “pre-writing”. They may have measure the passing of time. And they surely constitute identification symbols of a group. In spite of the so different needed work between incising plaques and weaving wool strings, these functions could be the same in both works. Plaques and textiles could be signs: they could embodied values shared by a group made of living and dead beings, ancestors and human beings, values fixed in signs and transferred from one generation to others. As these plaques have been found in funerary contexts, the buried dead could be considered still part of a community. So these signs could even be considered as heraldic motifs, as professor Katina L. Lillios has suggested[2]. They could have been identifying signs and at the same time registers of past events or of the passing of events. In any case, they could represent a protective divinity (as they have been conventionally be interpreted during years), but these want would be important is that these possible figurines would have acted as transmitters of values –expressed through graphic motifs that could be easily recognised as belonging to a group- in order to narrow ties between past and present members of a community along time.
Protective figures? Surely: they wold have preserved the memory of a community, being testimony of the legacy and validity of shared values. For these possible reasons they were far more important than just “divinities”. 





[1] The best collections of prehistoric Iberian “idols” (cylindrical and plaque idols, of different sizes) are in the Archaeological Museums of the Spanish cities of Sevilla –maybe the best- (Fig.3), Huelva, Badajoz and Madrid, and in Portuguese museums (Museu Nacional de Arqueologia e Etnologia, Lisbon, Museo Lapidar Infante D. Henrique, Faro) 

[2] LILLIOS, T. Katina: Heraldry for the Dead. Memory, Identity, and the Engraved Stone Plaques of Neolithic Iberia. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2008

viernes, 14 de septiembre de 2018

BRYAN STANLEY JONHSON (1933-1973): THE SMITHSONS ON HOUSING (1970)



El poeta y novelista experimental B.S. Johnson (que se suicidó a los cuarenta años) realizó un breve documental sobre los arquitectos ingleses Peter y Alison Smithson.

El reciente derribo de uno de sus bloques de viviendas en una zona degradada de Londres -Robin Hood Gardens, 1969-1972-, un bloque de hormigón maculado de humedad, a cuyos pisos se accedía mediante galerías externas, cuyos espacios comunes y áreas públicas nunca fueron aceptados por los usuarios, y cuyo coste de rehabilitación era, al parecer, inasumible por la administración pública y cuestionada por una parte de los habitantes (el Museo Victoria y Albert de Londres ha adquirido un módulo de fachada, compuesto por piezas prefabricadas de hormigón, que evoca un decorado de una película de terror), es el tema de una exposición en la Bienal de Arquitectura de Venecia de 2018, donde se destaca el documental antes citado.

jueves, 13 de septiembre de 2018

TAPIO SNELLMAN (¿1973?)): LA CASA DEL VIDRIO (2012)

Casa de Vidro from The Architecture Player on Vimeo.

El arquitecto y cineasta finlandés Tapio Snellman expone este breve documental sobre la Casa de Vidrio, en Sao Paolo (Brasil), de la arquitecta italiana afincada en Brasil Lina Bo Bardi (ya fallecida; se trataba de su vivienda, proyectada por ella, hoy preservada y visitable, sede de su fundación), en el pabellón central de la Bienal de Arquitectura de 2018 en Venecia, dedicada al Espacio Libre o liberado de limitaciones físicas y mentales.

DAVID POLONSKY (1973) & ROIY NITZAN (1977): ASCENT (2018)

ASCENT By David Polonsky & Roiy Nitzan from Roiy Nitzan on Vimeo.

David Polonsky, el mejor animador actual, autor -junto con Roiy Nitzan- del deslumbrante y duro largometraje de animación Vals para Bashir (incluido en una pasada entrada en este blog), protagoniza el mejor pabellón (dedicado a un verdadero problema humano y espacial) de la decepcionante Bienal de Arquitectura de Venecia de 2018: el pabellón de Israel, con una muestra titulada Status Quo.

 Este cortometraje preside el pabellón, dedicado a presentar cómo los conflictos entre las distintas comunidades religiosas en Israel y Palestina, cristianas, musulmanas y judías, cada una de ellas divididas a su vez en innumerables sectas e iglesias, se reflejan en la compleja organización espacial de los lugares santos (reivindicados por todos, y difícil pero necesariamente compartidos), y a qué tipo de frágiles, extrañas y sorprendentes soluciones de compromiso, temporales pero que perduran a falta de soluciones definitivas que satisfagan a todos, como un puente de madera en la esplanada del templo en Jerusalén -que refleja esta animación-.

domingo, 9 de septiembre de 2018

El retrato

Retrato, retrat, ritratto, en español, catalán e italiano; portrait, tanto en francés como en inglés: dos maneras antitéticas de nombrar una imagen casi siempre plástica (dibujada, pintada, esculpida, fotografiada o filmada), pero también escrita, que mantiene un parecido formal (y espiritual) con un modelo, cuyos rasgos se plasman gráficamente.
Ambos grupos de palabras se componen a partir del sustantivo latino tractus (o del verbo trahere). Éste significa traer, arrastrar. Algo -una imagen, en este caso-, lejano, es obligado a manifestarse, a mostrarse. Esta venida a la luz conlleva un esfuerzo. Lo que se manifiesta es reticente, se retrae. Posee, sin duda,aspectos, que no querría desvelar. La luz le ciega, pero sobre todo, lo expone a la vista de todos, sin que las dobleces puedan seguir existiendo y cumpliendo su función. Lo que se trae ante nosotros pierde su misterio. La imagen traída o plasmada es un indicio cierto de lo que, en la realidad, no se percibe. Aquélla no miente.
Pero el movimiento que se requiere y se efectúa para producir una imagen, es inverso en un caso y en otro. Retratar significa traer hacia atrás. La imagen se retrae, se retracta, se encoge. El retrato es un acto de retractación: todo lo dicho y mostrado hasta ahora ha sido una mentira, una imagen; llega la hora de la verdad. Los cuentos cesan. Podemos prestar atención en este momento.
El retrato retrocede. La imagen disminuye con respecto al original, al modelo. En este movimiento de retroceso, en este abandono, que evoca una pérdida, una retirada, sin embargo, los datos, los rasgos se contraen; los detalles, las anécdotas se pierden. Solo quedan las características propias, lo que "de verdad" o "en verdad" constituye la esencia" del retratado: su verdad. El encogimiento suelta lastre. Todo lo que distrae y desvirtúa la percepción, la comprensión de un ser desaparece. Lo que funda, lo que explica a una persona -un retrato siempre se refiere a un ser vivo y, en particular, a un ser humano existente: los retratos realizados tras el fallecimiento no suelen ser considerados efigies "veraces"-, por el contrario, se graba indeleblemente. En este sentido, un retrato es una imagen dura, inmisericorde, en la que se revela el "verdadero" rostro de la persona. El retrato, reducido a una imagen empequeñecida, es un concentrado de virtudes y defectos, caras y cruces de una figura.
Por el contrario, el movimiento que el portrait (francés o inglés) efectúa, se dirige hacia adelante. El portrait saca a flote la cara de una figura, las manchas, las sombras y las luces: la expone a plena luz del día. Quiere sacar el agua clara, aclarar qué es o quién es lo que o quien se halla delante. Un portrait es un desvelamiento, un descubrimiento. Cae la máscara. El rostro emana de la imagen. Aparece ante nosotros y se nos muestra con toda su crudeza. Los menores detalles, que se ocultan o pan desapercibidos en la realidad, quedan magnificados.
El retrato bucea en las profundidades; el portrait escudriña la piel. No deja nada por mostrar. Nos echa en cara lo que la figura es. Un portrait grita, enumera todo cuanto constituye un rostro, todas los rasgos, todas las trazas que revelan vivencias y dobleces. La luz es dura. Escarba en el rostro. El portrait es un escapelo, un bisturí, un cuchillo afilado que excava, hurga en la superficie, rasga la piel para sacar a la luz todo lo que las apariencias esconden. El rostro es considerado como un terreno que debe de ser explorado, hollada sin dejar nada por levantar. Un portrait es un velo rasgado.
El retratista español destila, como un alquimista, reduciendo los rasgos y caracteres a esencias, que son lo que constituyen y explican una persona o personalidad; en cambio, el retratista francés es un arqueólogo, o un médico, que rastrea, bucea y hurga en las marcas, las heridas buscando una explicación,  exponiendo a la luz lo que nos ha constituido.
En ambos casos, empero, un retrato o un portrait no deja títere con cabeza: un arte sin piedad. Necesario, y temible.

sábado, 8 de septiembre de 2018

ANNA CALVI (1980): SWIMMING POOL (2018)



Sobre esta cantante, instrumentista y compositora británica, véase su página web

PETER MÄRKLI (1953): MUSEO LA CONGIUNTA (GIORNICO -GRISONES, SUIZA-, 1992)









































Fotos: Tocho, agosto de 2018

El museo de la Congiunta está dedicado a la obra escultórica (estatuas y relieves de bronce, entre los años 50 y finales de los 70, que recuerdan a veces la obra escultórica y relieves de los años 30 de Picasso) del escultor suizo Hans Josephsohn (1920-2012).

Al fondo de un estrecho y remoto valle, no lejos del antiguo pueblo de Giornico a lado y lado de una empinada carretera de montaña, al que se accede por un puente del diablo de piedra romano que cruza un torrente,  un volumen de hormigón gris, marcado por las juntas horizontales del encofrado de madera, sin ventanas ni puertas visibles, un mausoleo que se equilibra con una iglesia románica, tan hermética y cerrada como aquél, en la entrada de la pequeña aglomeración, en el que es imposible reconocer un museo -sea cual sea la forma asociada a este tipo de edificio.
El presupuesto era mínimo. El edificio fue proyectado para acoger una colección de obras del escultor Josephsohn. Tras la estrecha puerta metálica de acceso, por la que es casi necesario cruzar de lado, tres naves centrales sucesivas, muy altas y alargadas, bañadas por la luz cenital y delimitadas por gruesas paredes de hormigón, a un lado de las cuáles se abren pequeñas, angostas "capillas" que acogen unos pocos relieves.
Uno de los museos más hermosos y nada complacientes europeos.


Agradecimientos al arquitecto y profesor (de la UPC-ETSAB, Barcelona) suizo Tiziano Schürch por este desconocido para mí descubrimiento.