Honing In

Well, my dissertation topic has been decided. Originally, I was hoping to write on the work of the Pre-Raphaelites, a group who, if you regularly visit my little corner of cyberspace, you know quite well that I am a tad infatuated with. In fact, the PRB was the main reason I chose to earn my Masters degree in Manchester. It seems, however, that they will not be the focus of my research, as the professor who would have been ideal supervising my project with be out of the country until next September...

NEVERTHELESS, I will remain a true Pre-Raphaelite enthusiast, perhaps even incorporating them into my second semester essays. Yet, they will be sadly absent from my dissertation. Le sigh. Anyways, there is no future for a PRB specialist in the US... (this is how I am consoling myself, anyways).

So, instead I will be exploring the images of Robert Mapplethorpe!! Yayyyy! Well, kind of. At least he is deliciously controversial, which I love. It should be an interesting topic which will coincide nicely with my second semester coursework. Mostly, I am excited to be working under the tutelage of one Carol Mavor, whom I adore and worked very well with this past semester on my infamous Proust / Boltanski project. With Carol as my supervisor, I am quite confident in my subject and am actually kind of looking forward to it, in a sick sado-masochistic sort of way. Oh, here's a sampling of my new main man :

Robert Mapplethorpe, Thomas, 1987

My ideas for my project are quite broad at the moment, as they ought to be, I suppose. Anyways, my dissertation will end up being something brilliant about ol' Rob's photographs explored through a discussion of queerness and the male gaze. Good fun, right? I hope so...

Adventures in Manchester

I went on a plethora of art adventures yesterday... Manchester really does offer a great deal in the realm of visual arts and, best of all, museums are free in this part of the world. The US really ought to adopt this phenomenon. It's very helpful for poor Uni students such as myself.

So, Sippel and I took the day yesterday to adventure around Salford, which is a town just a bit outside of Manchester. It's quite a pretty little corner, as the canal runs directly through the Salford Quays, allowing for lots of picturesque little footbridges and such.

Our first stop was at the Lowry, which holds two theatres and three gallery spaces. They have a permanent exhibit with the works of LS Lowry, an Mancunian artist with a penchant for industrial scenes and "matchstick men".

LS Lowry, Coming from the Mill, 1930

In addition to the Lowry permanent collection, there were two other exhibits on view, both of which were quite entertaining. The curators at the Lowry really strive to bring eclectic, family-friendly exhibits to the space, and their current exhibit on pop-up book art is no exception. Pop-Up Around the World presents popular monuments from around the globe in pop-up form, as well as a corner for gallery goers to create their own pop-ups. Good fun.

(My apologies for the low-quality photos. My camera has nearly reached its end...)

In addition to the kid-oriented exhibits (which are always my favorite), the Lowry also puts on some brilliant photo exhibitions. The current one presents photographs from the Guardian over the last century. A Long Exposure: 100 Years of Guardian Photography offers press photos in an art context, really allowing viewers to consider the skill and artistic eye of these images. It was quite interesting seeing the photograph in a gallery setting and then viewing it within the context of the newspaper. Indeed, the setting of an art piece has the ability to change its meaning.

After the Lowry, Kristy and I headed over to the Imperial War Museum. It was certainly a different experience from the war museums in the states, which are much more sterile. Upon entering the space, we found ourselves immersed in darkness with sounds of bombs and gunfire echoing throughout the hall. It was pretty intense, but makes clear the completely different attitude that most Brits have towards the world wars. Certainly, having these wars occur so close to home makes the British perspective inherently different than the American one. That aside, the museum housed some interesting relics, devoted a good deal of space to women in war, and ended with a pretty political message on modern-day warfare and the myth of peace.

I would have liked to explore the war museum more, but Kristy and I had to jet off back to Manchester for an exhibition opening at the Cornerhouse. We met Larissa and Zara there and took in the new exhibition, Interspecies, which included films on monkeys, a fish one could communicate with through electromagnetic impulses, and a performance piece of a woman living with a pig named Deliah for 36 hours. The exhibit was a tad incongruous, but was still interesting, particularly a film by Rachel Mayeri which explored the similarities between human and primate social interactions. Quite amusing, actually. 

So, all in all, the day was pretty much brilliant. Moral of the story, Manchester has some interesting cultural offerings which are good fun to explore. Yet, the Manchester Art Gallery will still always be my favorite because it houses my Pre-Raphaelite loves. Le sigh.

Note: This didn't actually happen yesterday, but a few days ago. I am just lazy and didn't finish the post until this point. Between now and then... Kristy has left us to head back to Wisconsin-land. Tis a sad story, but it gave us the excuse we needed to have a kick ass going away party weekend. We will miss you, Sippel!

"The rest is silence..."

--For Anch--

John Everett Millais, Ophelia, 1882

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;

Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indu'd

Unto that element; but long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death.

--Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601

Waterhouse does have a few of her (the Pre-Raphaelites did love their tragic women), although they depict scenes before and after her drowning, not whilst it is occurring like Millais.  I do like the Millais best, but this one by Waterhouse is lovely as well:

John William Waterhouse, Ophelia, 1894

It looks almost as if it could be an extension of his Hylas and the nymphs, no? As though Hylas is being pulled to his watery grave just behind her. It's all very tragic, but so very, very pretty. As Claudius says:

Are you like the painting of a sorrow,

A face without a heart?

"I am half sick of shadows..."

John William Waterhouse, The Lady of Shallot, 1888

And down the river's dim expanse

Like some bold seer in a trance,

Seeing all his own mischance --

With a glassy countenance

Did she look to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day

She loosed the chain, and down she lay;

The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white

That loosely flew to left and right --

The leaves upon her falling light --

Thro' the noises of the night,

She floated down to Camelot:

And as the boat-head wound along

The willowy hills and fields among,

They heard her singing her last song,

The Lady of Shalott.

~Tennyson, The Lady of Shallot, 1842

Just... tired.

I wish I could sleep at night. I've developed a recurring case of insomnia since arriving in the UK and it's maddening. 4:15 am, eyes fixated on the ceiling, no respite in sight. Bollocks.

I really loathe the night. Being alone in the dark with nothing for my brain to distract itself with, this leads to nothing but trouble. My thoughts inevitably circle around some pseudo-profound life philosophy and I find myself in the throes of an existential mini-crisis. I always convince myself that I've reached some point of enlightenment, that the next day life is going to be spectacularly different because I've worked out a new life for myself in my mind. Of course, the next morning life continues in the same mundane fashion as the day before. 

Anyways, it's taxing, going through a new identity crisis every night. I wish I could just... sleep. Or, better yet, I wish I didn't need to sleep at all. Overrated, right? Right. Ahem.

Fuseli, The Nightmare, 1781

Cry, Baby, Cry

I have a sliver. In the palm of my hand. It plagues me.

In other, much more important news : CEASE FIRE!

"Israel announced a unilateral cease-fire on Saturday evening in the three-week-old war in Gaza that has killed at least 1,200 Palestinians and 13 Israelis. Prime Minister Ehud Olmert told Israelis in a televised address: 'The conditions have been created that our aims, as declared, were attained fully, and beyond.'"

1,200 Palestinians ... 13 Israelis 

Glad your goals were attained, and beyond, Olmert.

A Garden of Internet Delights

As much as I hate Google Earth for its Big-Brother-esque tampering with the spheres of privacy, this is pretty much amazing.

The Museo del Prado in Madrid is opening its collections to the eyes of Google Earth, allowing people to navigate through its galleries from home. They are offering fourteen paintings (nay, masterpieces) in insanely high-resolution, allowing crazies like me to get up close and personal with the likes of Fra Angelico, Velazquez, Goya... without getting yelled at by up-tight museum guards in Spanish. In addition to this (YES, there IS more...) we get to listen to the audio guides whilst indulging our eyes in pure bliss. 

Ah, we also get to look at this guy: 

Hieronymous Bosch, Garden of Earthly Delights, 1503/4

I've always loved Bosch for his intricacies... and now I get to see all of his debaucherous details. Brilliant. I'm not sure if I am nerding out about this a little too much... but, well, I am kind of an art nerd... and it's AWESOME.

I wonder what Benjamin (who, to explain it very basically, claimed that art in the modern age has lost its inherent visual 'aura'  due to photographic reproductions) would have to say about this development. In any case, I find it to be absolutely brilliant (if you hadn't gathered...). I can't wait to go play!

Update: Check out the Museo del Prado homepage if you are having trouble with the direct link. They will lead you to this wonderfulness!

"You look... exotic."

Note: Random creepy men stopping young, innocent, unsuspecting women in the street offering them "jobs for ladies" is not okay. So, creeper, take a pen and put that down in your little creepster note pad under the 'not-to-do' list.  Creep.

I hate people. Particularly people with penises. 

Sad Sad City

Guess what? The city is bad news for your brain. 

Finally, the excuse I need to become the crazy reclusive academic with an inconceivable number of cats, tucked away in some small Tuscan town (San Gimignano!! *smiles*), never to be seen again...

Side note: Perhaps the absurd enormity of Platt Fields Park here in Manchester isn't so absurd after all.

Henri Rousseau The Dream 1910

PS. Is it just me or is poor Henri far too underrated? Gorgeousness. 

spit goes *clink*

I wish I had found this sooner... 

My life will be so much easier now. ♥ xkcd.

♥ Tunes

I've had a few folk from back home inquire as to what sort of toe-tapping dance party British music I have been stumbling across on my adventures, so I decided to create a little playlist to share. (I've shamelessly stolen the widget from Kevin's blog o' music; it's quite the cute little guy!) Some of the artists are from Manchester, most are from the UK, and a select few are from elsewhere... but this is what I'm listening to at the moment, so take a listen and enjoy!!!

On Sparkling

Nearly a week after New Year's Eve, and I still am finding teeny sparkles sporadically popping up, clinging to my face, my clothes, my hair... They linger, like leftovers from Thanksgiving and bits of gift wrap from Christmas, testaments to the superficiality of the holidays which becomes more and more apparent as they become more and more distant, what with all that holiday magical-ness wearing off and whatnot. I'm sparkling, and its depressing.

(Does anyone else find the 12-month calendar, the "holiday season", the pre-determined 7-day week confining? Life is cyclical, not linear... we aren't moving towards an ultimate, but recycling our years. Not much changes, in the end. Growing up is a farce.)

I think I find a lot of things depressing. I write about them a lot here. In fact, I think the majority of my posts center around things that disgust me, stress me out, make me nervous... quite simply, things that can pretty much be summed up by the adjective 'depressing.' (With the exception of Puccini, of course. Although 'O Mio Babbino Caro' is an almost tragically desperate aria, it stills makes me smile.) Anyways, my typing about depressing things is in itself a tad depressing, so let's move on...

My essays are... coming along? Proust and Boltanski is half finished... Spirit Photography has yet to be started. This thought depresses me. Hopeless, simply hopeless.

........................

Ahem. So I was thinking of things that didn't depress me so that I could end this post on a lighter, happier note. I thought almost instantly of Klimt (Glorious!), and more specifically of his Mäda Primavesi, one of my very, very favorites. Upon searching the interweb for an image of said painting to share with you lovelies, I came across this bastardization and nearly cried:

*Sigh* Is nothing sacred? Depressing.

On Gaza

I am deeply saddened by the recent events occurring in Gaza. The Israeli bombardment of Palestinians in Gaza has lead to the mass slaughter of hundreds of innocent Palestinian civilians, including children. Even now, these atrocities are escalating, as Israeli ground forces push into Gaza, creating a new dimension in this attack that has largely been air-based. 

Despite the extremity of the slaughter, the White House still blames Hamas for the excessive attacks, claiming they instigated the Israelis after their bombing of key Israeli blockades. However, these very blockades were keeping food and supplies from the starving population of Gaza. Over 425 Palestinians have been killed so far due to Israeli attacks, and over 2,200 wounded. 4 Israelis have been killed. Isn't this extreme disproportion astounding to anyone else? How can the western powers support Israel when the numbers clearly show the mass slaughter of Palestinians? 

Now, with Israeli ground forces entering Gaza, the violence will only escalate. Now that the cease-fire has ended, it is uncertain how long the violence will continue. How long will it take, how many lives will be lost, until Palestinian and Israeli leaders realize that this situation requires a political solution, and not a military one?

---

Happy New Year, m'loves. This year's festivities were quite enjoyable... and considering it was Kristy's birthday as well, the girls and I went all out and had a brilliant evening. We brought in the new year at the Bird Cage in Manchester city centre, and I've more than a few battle wounds from high heels and too much champagne. Still, the prolonged recovery time is simply testament to the fabulous evening. Good, good fun.

Here's a treat for the eyes that is soothing and low-key... very necessary this day for all involved, I'm sure. 

Audrey Kawasaki, Yume No Ato, 2006

I am a fan of Audrey's work... her femme fatales are brilliant, and usually quite dark. This piece reminds me a bit of Waterhouse's nymphs, seductive and lethal. Most clearly, one can see Mucha in her works, with all her linear curls and waves... very art nouveau. And very lovely. Makes my eyes smile.