Fashion & Gardens

The other weekend, I went along to the Garden Museum to see the current exhibition, Fashion & Gardens: Spring/Summer - Autumn/Winter. The exhibition traced the connections between garden styles and clothes fashion from the sixteenth century through to the modern day. As the blurb on the Garden Museum's website explains, 'Both gardens and dress aim to bring a sense of occasion to a season. Midsummer is more authentic if passed among organza and roses; russet velvet and gold-licked chrysanthemums concentrate our senses that autumn has arrived.' If you've followed either my posting of monthly personifications or my visits to Kew, you won't be surprised to hear that this exhibition immediately grabbed my attention.

Artwork by Rebecca Louise Law... If only I had a space in which to hang hundreds
of dried flowers...

It was a very... shall we say 'compact' exhibition but it was fascinating and I feel that I came out having learnt a whole lot more than I knew when I went in. And the advantage of smaller exhibitions is that you ultimately take more time to appreciate each item.

So what did I learn? I learnt about the correlation between the patterns in Elizabethan knotwork gardens and the patterns on their clothing and upholstery, demonstrated in the exhibition with the display of exquisite embroidery. I also learnt that, while floral patterns on fabrics were popular throughout much of the eighteenth century, there was a transition from sparser patterns to busier, more clustered patterns. So if I see someone in a period drama set in the 1780s, wearing a lightly patterned floral dress, I can now titter knowingly about how deeply unfashionable they are.

One of the things that I found particularly interesting, as someone quite affected by colours, was learning how trends in colours changed both in the fashion world and in gardens. The introduction of chemical (rather than plant-derived, natural) dyes made all sorts of rich, vibrant colours possible in the nineteenth century. As methods improved, production increased and prices came down, these bright colours entered the middle-class and lower-class markets. At the same time, the numerous new public gardens established in cities to provide the general public with green spaces within dense urban areas in the mid-nineteenth century were frequently planted with bright, hardy flowers. As a result, there was a backlash, and the upper classes made a return to soft, subtle colours for their clothes, achieved with natural, high quality dyes, while their private gardens and preferred flowers followed suit.

'None of those obvious, bright colours for us, thank you very much. We're ladies.'
Miss Martineau's Garden, John Sant, 1873 (Image source)

Also interesting was the development of garden fashions and country style, in which, as the exhibition proudly pointed out, the Brits lead the world (partly because of our love of gardens, partly because of our rubbish weather and the waterproof nature of garden and country wear, from Burberry macs, through Barbour waxed jackets, to Hunter wellies). This 'dressed down' style, which was still posh enough to differentiate the gentlemen from the labouring gardeners, began in the eighteenth century as a result of trends for connecting with nature, albeit in a highly controlled manner. Think the 'natural' but in reality highly structured Picturesque gardens with, for instance, cattle forming part of the vista from your French windows, but nicely kept at bay with a ha-ha so that they didn't actually come up and nibble and defecate on your carefully maintained lawn... Along with all this a slightly more casual 'outdoor' clothing style was adopted by the upper classes, to allow them to get down and dirty with a spot of poking around in the garden.

Kate Middleton effortlessly bringing the 'country chic' look
(Image source)

Even the French admit defeat by the Brits on the mac style front
(Image source)

Following the Fashion & Gardens exhibition, I had a wander around the rest of the museum. I've been here for talks and into the garden when the museum was closed for renovation a few years ago, but never properly explored the permanent collection. Again, it's small, but lovely. 

Scarecrow in cute cat form, c.1920s

'Seeds for sale'

The carrots are only intermediate...

... but the rhubarb is GIANT!

But they both pale in comparison to this prize tomato

The museum is located in a disused church, and on the way out of the building I noticed the memorial below in the entrance porch. Unfortunately, the bottom of it was covered up but I was suitably intrigued - 'killed by thunder and lightning'? At the tender age of 34? There's got to be more to that story, surely?

To the memory of William Bacon
of the Salt Office, London, Gent.
who was killed by thunder & lightning
at his window July 12th 1787
Aged 34 years

The V&A (and Bowie) Calls for Heels

David Bowie at the V&A

One of the many reasons I love The Cat is that, when deciding what to wear to the David Bowie exhibition yesterday, I commented that 'the V&A calls for heels' and his response was 'absolutely' - not sarcastically but in honest agreement. Not everyone would concur with that, many would probably suggest flat shoes more appropriate on account of having to stand for so long, but The Cat is on the same wavelength as me.

So we were in agreement that heels had to be worn, but what else? My wardrobe is sadly lacking in 1970s glam wear so I just threw together something fun instead.

David Bowie: as iconically British as the K6 telephone box

And we both thoroughly enjoyed the exhibition. I wasn't convinced by the requirement of headphones at first, because I generally refuse audio guides as I prefer to take things in my own way, go at my own pace, double-back if need be, and share thoughts and observations with whoever I'm there with. But I did get used to the 'audio experience' - there were obviously sensors around the place so that when you came near to a video or display, the audio would change accordingly. In addition, there was music playing over public speakers... If this sounds a little overwhelming and disorientating, that's because it was. But, as I said, I did kind of adjust to it, and the way it worked still allowed you to go freeform. And I was amused when I removed my headphones at one point and a man near me was quietly singing along to whatever was on his headphones...

David Bowie exhibition (Image source: The Guardian)

But what of the exhibition generally? Well, someone, or a group of someones, obviously had a lot of fun putting it together. It certainly wasn't a staid exhibition of displays in glass cases but, rather, very immersive and creatively composed. It moved between the context in which David Bowie grew up, in post-war Britain and moving into the space race; the art, movies and books from which he drew influence to create his unique imagery and ideas; his creative processes and the manner in which he controls all aspects of his albums and shows, not just the music; his various personas and how they came about; his stage shows and music videos; and the ways in which he has influenced popular culture.

Image source: The Guardian

The Cat and I were talking afterwards about how we were both trying to imagine what it was like to witness the first emergence of Bowie - the context in which he appeared and how unexpected and different and shocking he was. We pondered what it would have been like to see the famous performance of Starman on Top of the Pops, the iconic and groundbreaking moment which was, for many, many people, the first introduction to Bowie... The thing is, it's still not hard to imagine what an astonishing and exciting moment this was, because his music and image is still thrilling, no matter how used we are to it now.

Image source: Dressing Up Daisies

So if you're in London or can get to London, I absolutely recommend checking out the show. I believe that pre-sale tickets are completely sold out but there are still same-day tickets to be got. Or if you're lucky enough to have a friend who's a member, you could sweetly ask them to take you... I certainly wouldn't mind taking another friend along on my membership card - there was so much to take in, so much footage and such, that a repeat visit would be well worth it.

Image source: Wikipedia

And, before I go, can I just say one more thing? Thank goodness for this amazing Bank Holiday weather! Springtime and warmth has come at last! Here's to hoping it sticks around. The Cat and I were actually able to enjoy a pleasant stroll after the exhibition, enjoying Hyde Park as the sun and warmth still lingered...

Hyde Park swan and sunset

Love Letter to an Artist #3

Last weekend, I went to the current Manet exhibition at the Royal Academy. To be honest, I had been prepared to let this one pass me by. Though I do like Impressionism, I can't say that I have ever been particularly drawn in by Manet. I suppose that I haven't been exposed to that much of his work in the flesh and none of his most reproduced and lauded paintings have really spoken to me. In addition, the focus of the exhibition was portraiture and, unless it's the work of an artist I particularly love, I am generally less inclined towards straight portraiture than other subjects.

However, I was enticed into going by one of my friends, as his enthusiasm made me think again about my readiness to dismiss the exhibition. And I am so glad I allowed myself to be enticed because it was truly wonderful. It encouraged me to do some reassessment, it amused and surprised me, it presented some revelations and impressed me with its variety. It helped me to place Manet within the course of art history, particularly with regard to the hints of modernist techniques and style in his paintings. And, always a sign of a good exhibition, I was just stunned and overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.

One of the paintings which particularly captured my fancy was The Amazon:

Manet's The Amazon, c.1882 (Image source: Wikimedia Commons)

The painting shows a young female horse rider and I just thought her wonderful. Her androgyny particularly appealed to me - she could almost be a beautiful young man. Someone else might see it differently but, to me, it's rather an empowering female portrait. She feels very modern, she's dressed for action (perhaps it helps that she is cut off just below her waist, so you can't see the ridiculously impractical skirt she was probably wearing...). She looks like she knows what she's doing and you can imagine this young lady keeping up with the boys. And this all made me rather fond of her.

So, sure, I might let Manet paint me, if de Lempicka and Burne-Jones weren't available.

I'll leave you with a couple of more favourites from the exhibition.

In the Garden, 1870 (Image source: WikiPaintings)

Berthe Morisot, 1870-71 (Image source)

Coming Soon to a Gallery Near You...

 I just found out about this exhibition which is about to open at the National Portrait Gallery...

Well, that'll certainly be a worthy distraction as I expectantly wait for this to open at the Tate Modern later in February... 

And then I still have this to look forward to the following month...

Oh, London, you know just how to treat a girl, don't you? Indulging me with all this wonderful 20th-Century art and design...

Keep an eye out for posts about all of the above over the coming months!

A Photographer or Two's Eye on the City

Last Friday night, I went along with a friend to see the photography exhibition currently showing at the Tate Modern, which brings together the work of the American William Klein and Japanese Daido Moriyama. I have to confess to not having known of either of them prior to this visit (though some of Klein's work seemed vaguely familiar) but I'm so glad I went along because the exhibition was fantastic and I made some new discoveries.

It was off to a good start with a room screening a short film called Broadway by Light, which was a 1950s spectacular celebrating New York's neon signage. I love the pop artness of old school neon...

Screen shot from Klein's Broadway by Light (Image source)

In the next room, my friend and I both fell in love with, and stood momentarily mesmerised by this picture:

Evelyn, Isabella, Nina and Mirrors, for Vogue (Image source)

Isn't it wonderful? I absolutely love the composition of it, the backdrop, everything...

Like England's own David Bailey and Norman Parkinson, William Klein was breaking convention in the 1950s/1960s by taking his fashion models out of the safety of the studio and into edgy, urban settings.

We then watched a fascinating video in which the photographer himself talked through the process of selecting one photo over another, and what makes a photo work.

Mai 1968, Paris (Image source)

The selection process turned into an art form itself, as Klein found that marking up contact sheets with red pencil wasn't clear enough and that enamel paint was much more effective...

Painted contact sheet (Image source)

The exhibition also explored Klein's abstract art beginnings and his transition into photography.

Vertical Diamonds (Image source)

Dorothy blowing smoke rings (Image source)

This was also the section in which I learnt that Mondrian, famous for his contribution to the De Stijl movement, with his primary colour blocking, geometric paintings, began life painting rural scenes... I've still so much to learn about art... But that's rather an invigorating and exciting thought, knowing that there's endless things to discover. I got home and looked up Mondrian's early work on the interwebs and sure enough:

One of Mondrian's earlier works (Image source)

The exhibition then segued into Moriyama's work. Generally, I preferred the section on Klein but the Moriyama half also had a lot to offer. 

Hippie Crime by Moriyama (Image source)

Although, much of his work centred on people, snapped in street scenes, he also concentrated a lot on objects, spotting and focusing in on minor details in the environment (both urban and natural) to create wonderfully textured, almost abstract photographs, picking up lines and light and shadow.

I couldn't help but think how overwhelming the beauty of the world must be if you are constantly looking at it in the way he must be doing, in order to spot so many gem-like, rich details. I sometimes engage in the world on that level and it makes me feel like my head might explode, wanting to absorb and retain all the beauty and detail. To constantly be engaged like that must be wonderful but exhausting!

Not seen in the exhibition but I couldn't resist... Echos of Gatsby, and the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg, anyone?
(Image source)

My favourite part of the Moriyama section was a room covered in polaroids, which made up a scene of a room interior, shot piece by piece and panelled together. I can't quite explain it, nor can I find a good picture of it to share with you. You'll just have to believe me that it had a wonderful effect.

We finished up the exhibition watching short films in which each of the photographers was interviewed. In the film on Moriyama, he talked about how he loves the intensity of the city and the whirl of humanity, that he is addicted to the city and couldn't photograph without it. Reading about fellow blogger, Kelly-Marie's recent relocation to the seaside, where she quoted a beautiful extract from Anais Nin, made me momentarily resent the city... but this exhibition reminded me again why I adore it and thrive on it.

Love Letter to an Artist #2

Last year, I dedicated a love letter to Tamara de Lempicka. Having been to the Pre-Raphaelites exhibition at the Tate Britain twice recently, I feel compelled to follow this up with another love letter to an artist, this time to Edward Burne-Jones.

The incomplete Tristram and Iseult, abandoned by Edward Burne-Jones in 1872 (Image source)

His works were stand outs for me in an utterly wonderful exhibition. Until this, I had really only been familiar with his work as a stained glass artist (such as the windows seen in my recent post). His paintings were a revelation though. They were so incredibly beautiful, I felt rather emotional and overwhelmed. I was entranced by their exquisite detail and wonderfully rich colours.

Love Among the Ruins, Edward Burne-Jones, 1894 (Image source)

I think the Burne-Jones paintings particularly stood out because they felt, stylistically, like a breath of fresh air at their first appearance more than halfway into the exhibition. By that point, the work of some of the prevalent artists who had been with us from the beginning had begun to feel slightly hazy around the edges, too familiar and safe and sentimental. Even though Burne-Jones's most striking paintings didn't come until the last room, the appearance of his first painting caught the eye with its distinct palette and lines, which felt somehow different and bolder.

Georgiana Burne Jones, Edward Burne-Jones, 1884 (Image source)

To me, Burne-Jones seems to be heralding the beginning of Art Noveau with his figures and with the delicate and exquisite facial features of his subjects, verging towards an angularity which Rossetti would not even dare consider. His ever so slightly sinister but compellingly beautiful paintings feel almost like a whisper of things to come, a prelude to artists such as Harry Clarke and Aubrey Beardsley.

The Rock of Doom, from the Perseus Cycle, Burne Jones, c.1885-8 (Image source)

But there was, of course, more to the exhibition than just Burne-Jones. The angle the Tate went for was to illustrate how the Pre-Raphaelites were avant garde in their time, young upstarts rebelling against the conventions that had come to dominate the Victorian art world, bringing "a new beauty and intensity of vision to British art". That they caused a stir amongst their contemporaries is easily forgotten when their famous works have been reproduced a million times over and feel so quintessentially English and polite today. (And, in fact, it is even disheartening looking at the reproductions I am including in this post, as they distinctly lack the punch of the originals, as details are lost and colours muted).

The Death of Chatterton, Henry Wallis, 1856 (Image source)

As happened in architecture, the Pre-Raphaelites turned back to medievalism in an age that was being overtaken by the ugliness and dehumanising effects of industrialisation. The flatness of their paintings, sharp outlines and bright colours harked back to the style of past ages, but they embraced more wide ranging subjects. So wide, in fact, that it is sometimes hard to grasp their purpose or understand them as a coherent movement. Given that the Pre-Raphaelites seem to be so innocuous and simple at first glance, they are somehow surprisingly hard to fathom...

An English Autumn Afternoon, Hampstead - Scenery in 1853, Ford Madox Brown, 1852-5 (Image source)

The exhibition commentary does pick up the main ideas of the movement though, how these flew in the face of convention and reacted to changes in society. It takes a vaguely chronological approach, beginning with the origins and then devoting the next few rooms to different themes. It traces the gradual move into the Aesthetic movement ("art for art's sake") including the appearance of Morris and his decorative arts, before finishing with the diverging paths of the Pre-Raphaelites in the last decades of the nineteenth century.

Autumn Leaves, John Everett Millais, 1856 (Image source)

What I found most interesting about the exhibition was actually identifying the different styles of the artists that come under the umbrella of the Pre-Raphaelites, and the different directions the individual artists went in over the course of their careers. Aside from the revelation of Burne-Jones's paintings, Millais was confirmed as a favourite - from his deservedly famous Ophelia with its tragic beauty and astounding level of detail, to the wild, wide, unpopulated Scottish landscape of Chill October, via the simple beauty and natural richness of an everyday scene such as Autumn Leaves.

Chill October, John Everett Millais, 1870 (Image source)

I also confirmed that I'm really not particularly a fan of Rossetti, though he sometimes surprises me, and I discovered that Holman Hunt leaves me cold and occasionally mildly disturbed by the almost grostesque visages of the characters in his strangely cartoonish, hyper-coloured paintings. Probably the only exception to this was the lovely Isabella and the Pot of Basil. 

Isabella and the Pot of Basil, William Holman Hunt, 1866-8 (Image source)

Overall, though, a wonderful exhibition. I've come out with a better grasp of my individual Pre-Raphaelite artists, and it is a marvellously indulgent and aesthetically satisfying way to spend several hours. 

Random Reasons to Love Love London #6

Tate Modern Turbine Gallery (Image source)

On Friday evening, I went to see the current Edvard Munch exhibition at the Tate Modern (more on that later, hopefully). As I was looking around, enjoying the rich and wonderful paintings, a young chap who had been looking at a painting nearby caught the attention of my friend and me, saying "excuse me, but isn't this painting just so cool. Sorry, I don't know much about art, this is the first exhibition I've ever been to..." To which we responded along the lines of "don't worry about that". "I just think it's great, isn't it?", he carried on, in delight. We agreed and admired the painting together before he happily made his way into the next room.

I was just so pleased and flattered that he had chosen to share his excitement and unpretentious enjoyment of the painting with us. I like to think it's because we looked friendly and unpretentious ourselves... It made me really very happy to share this stranger's joy at experiencing these paintings up close at his first ever exhibition. I still become exuberant when I see original art works (or even prints of my favourite pieces) so it's not that I needed reminding of what a wonderful experience it can be, but it was just rather special to have this stranger so unashamedly keen to share his appreciation of this painting with us.

Ballgowns at the V&A

Image source: The Guardian

Recently, I went to see the new exhibition at the V&A Museum - Ballgowns: British Glamour Since 1950. I had been looking forward to seeing this, and when I recently bought membership for the V&A, I decided that this would be my first exhibition with my fancy new card.

There were some delightful dresses and I really enjoyed the way that they had chosen to curate the exhibits. Instead of going chronologically or some other such way, they grouped together dresses by colour palette. It was fun to see dresses from, say, the '50s, '70s and '80s side by side with almost exactly the same shades and combinations of colour.

Yellows and oranges. The '70s number here (second from left)
was surprisingly one of my favourites. I'm not usually a '70s
girl, but I just found it so simple and elegant
(Image source: Vogue)

Reds and blacks. (Image source: Vogue)

Corals. I was fascinated by the kaftan dress on the left.
I couldn't quite work out whether there was actually anything
holding the sides together. Would be quite fun to wear, I think.
(Image source: Vogue)

Naturally, I loved practically all the '50s dress and most of the '60s, but I also found something to like in every era. When I moved up to the present-day dresses on the upper floor I was rather underwhelmed though - somewhat ironically as the dresses there felt like they were desperate to make a statement and grab some attention. But for me they felt somehow soulless. Perhaps because they haven't stood the test of time... Or perhaps because, being modern, it was just like going into Top Shop or some such, which I always find depressing...

Give me old fashioned elegance any day (Image source: Stylist)

Despite all the lovely vintage dresses downstairs, I have to confess that I would have been slightly disappointed if I'd paid to get into the exhibition. It felt rather thin somehow. I think my main complaint would be the lack of interpretation. There was hardly anything to put ballgowns into context or to chart their development - the information boards could basically be summed up in one sentence: "People used to wear ballgowns to debutante balls and other such events, now celebrities wear them on the red carpet". A few select dresses had further information but I felt that so much more could have been said to draw out the viewer's appreciation and understanding of the dresses and how fashions have developed. As it was, it just felt kind of like window shopping... Except I couldn't walk in and try any of them on! I was also frustrated about the lack of mirrors in some of the display cases. There was one amazing 1950s dress with some lovely detailing around the waist - I would have loved to have been able to see how it was constructed at the back and a well-placed mirror would have enabled that. I think such simple measures might have encouraged more overall appreciation of the dresses' structure and craftsmanship.

So, despite some undoubtedly lovely dresses, not necessarily one to hurry off and see. The recently re-opened fashion galley is looking great though. I only had a quick look around the permanent exhibits but will be going back for a proper visit some time. And I will also return with a review of the V&A's other current exhibition British Design 1948-2011 once I've been to that. I've heard good things about it from a couple of workmates so I'm looking forward to it.