Jorge Luis Borges: The Task of Art
The task of art is to transform what is continuously happening to us, to transform all these things into symbols, into music, into something which can last in man’s memory. That is our duty. If we don’t fulfill it, we feel unhappy. A writer or any artist has the sometimes joyful duty to transform all that into symbols. These symbols could be colors, forms or sounds. For a poet, the symbols are sounds and also words, fables, stories, poetry. The work of a poet never ends. It has nothing to do with working hours. Your are continuously receiving things from the external world. These must be transformed, and eventually will be transformed. This revelation can appear anytime. A poet never rests. He’s always working, even when he dreams. Besides, the life of a writer, is a lonely one. You think you are alone, and as the years go by, if the stars are on your side, you may discover that you are at the center of a vast circle of invisible friends whom you will never get to know but who love you. And that is an immense reward.
These sixteen Easter eggs are from Czechoslovakia. Each one is hand blown and painted and then strung onto colourful ribbon so they could be hung up.
We currently have some Romanian Easter eggs on loan at Hall Place, Bexley and Whitstable Museum and Gallery and are definitely worth checking out. The loans are part of a project called Object in Focus, and more information can be found here: http://www.horniman.ac.uk/about/object-in-focus-loans
From President to Painter
President George W. Bush has announced his forthcoming painting exhibit, “The Art of Leadership: A President’s Personal Diplomacy,” a collection of portraits of world leaders including Tony Blair, Vladimir Putin, Silvio Berlusconi, Hamid Karzai, and Bush’s own father, amongst others.
SEE // Sailing Back in Time
Marian Goodman Gallery will be debuting a new exhibition by German artist Lothar Baumgartenon Wednesday, April 23. Baumgarten, known for sticking to his themes of ethnography and anthropology, has created Los Aristócratas de la Selva y la Reina de Castilla, an installation that includes four ship models, one coca, two caravels and a vessel.
Giorgio Morandi, Still Life (1960)
Giorgio Morandi, Still Life (1949)
Pierre-Jacob Guéroult du Pas, Basque whaling ship (1710)
Meanings of a building both in landscape and memory-scape can be changed ‘not only by its exterior features or interior functions but also by its way of uniting with the earth’ (Chung 1994: 49). In other words, placing a building as well as designing one is a key element in creating meanings in architectural forms. The intimacy of place and meaning is, in part, derived from the place’s primary role as a ‘container of experience’ and, therefore, its ‘intrinsic memorability’ (Casey 1987: 186). Memory, it is pointed out, ‘does not thrive on the indifferently dispersed’ (Casey 1987: 187). In this sense, the former Japanese Government-General Building (GGB), erected in front of a key palace of the last native royal dynasty, more than any other building evoked for Koreans painful and shameful memories of Japanese colonial rule.
Completed in 1926, the GGB bore witness both to the colonial and postcolonial periods of modern Korean history. In fact, its overall lifespan was more postcolonial than colonial. The colonial administration began the construction of the GGB in 1916 and completed it in 1926. For nearly two decades, until 1945, the building housed offices of the colonial government. However, the building survived for a further five decades of Korea’s turbulent post-liberation history, housing the US military government offices until 1948; providing a home to the government of the Republic of Korea in 1948; and briefly serving as the general headquarters of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea during the Korean War. Following the cessation of hostilities, the building served again as the main government building for the Republic of Korea from 1962 to 1982. It subsequently housed the National Museum of Korea until 1995.
As part of national celebrations of the 50th anniversary of Liberation Day from Japanese colonial rule, the GGB was demolished. This article analyses the reasons why the building survived for half a century after the end of Japanese rule, and the debate during the early 1990s leading to the decision to demolish the building. How was the demolition of the GGB received by the various groups of people in South Korean society? Finally, what does the post-liberation history of the GGB reveal about public images and attitudes towards Japan in South Korea? In exploring these questions, I will first briefly summarize the history of the GGB. I will then analyse the political context for the official decision to demolish the GGB in the early 1990s, reflected in the media, at two levels: reaction from ‘specialists’ of various kinds (architects, city planners, and so forth), and the general public. In the process, I survey and attempt to explain changing attitudes and memories in contemporary Korean society with respect to Japan and the colonial past.
Franz Roh, Masks Survive (c.1938)
James Franco: New Film Stills.
On view at the Pace Gallery until May 3, 2014.
SEE // American Invasion in the Marais
Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac brings a taste of the States to Paris this spring, presenting New York-based artist Tom Sachs’ seventh solo exhibition American Handmade Paintings in its Marais location.