New Nudes
Blue Nude IV, 1952; gouache on paper cut-out, 103 x 74cm While researching the collage story for my last issue of Outline magazine, Matisse’s blue nudes of the early 50s popped up in a Google search. I was reminded once more of their abstract yet voluptuous beauty; they are for me the epitome of his oeuvre in the collage medium.
In 1939, the artist Henri Matisse (1869–1954) began to visit with the Greek publisher of the magazine Verve, Emmanuel Tériade. It was in his editorial offices that Matisse began to experiment with paper cut-outs, utilising pages from catalogues of printer’s inks. Some of these pieces were used on the cover of the eighth issue of the magazine. Tériade was so enamoured of them he wanted to publish an entire book, but it was not until 1943 that Matisse agreed to the project.
The nudes are wholly excised from their environment, their limbs intertwined in space, conveying the appearance of sculptural monoliths in ‘Yves Klein blue’ …
The book would be called Jazz, inspired by the properties of jazz music: ‘the gift of improvisation, of life, of harmony with the listening audience’, Matisse explained, creating spontaneous images of folk tales, circus performances and travel. By 1944, 20 pictures were already finished. By this time Matisse had abandoned the books of printer’s inks, and was applying gouache to sheets which were then cut up. The publication of the book was stalled however due to the difficulties of reproduction, and it was not until 1947 that the master and the printer were duly satisfied.
Polynesia, The Sea, 1946; gouache on paper cut-out, 200 x 314cmIn 1946, Matisse took the visual solutions discovered during the process off creating the images in Jazz, and applied them to his Polynesia, the Sky, and Polynesia, The Sea (above). Squares of sea and sky overlapped with plants, fish and birds – truly harmonious and serene designs that were destined for tapestries to be woven at the Gobelin looms of Beauvais.
Blue Nude II, 1952; gouache on paper cut-out, 116.2 x 88.9cm His experiments with collage culminated in his blue nudes in the early 1950s, shortly before his death in November 1954. The nudes are wholly excised from their environment, their limbs intertwined in space, conveying the appearance of sculptural monoliths in ‘Yves Klein blue’ – hybrids existing somewhere between Moore’s and Modigliani’s sculptures. In fact, like a sculpture chipping away stone from the negative space, these cut-outs took Matisse weeks of trial and error before he determined satisfactory compositions, the results a great testament to a man’s dedication to his art.
Matisse and his model, Wilma Javor, a young Hungarian woman, in the studio in the rue des Plants, 1939; ph: BrassaïImages all from ‘Matisse’, by Volkmar Essers, Taschen 2002
I’ll Be Bound!
Image from Rebecca Newport, found on Flickr. Click for link.Yesterday at work I had a slightly unusual task: I had to create the book binding for some nineteenth century books used as props in MTC’s upcoming production of The Importance of Being Earnest.
This entailed printing onto canvas, using our large-format printer. The special roll of canvas is coated in paper in order to accept ink. This means that over time, if the objects are handled a lot, they will lose their matt appearance and become glossy.
I was given image files from the Costume Realiser Tracy Grant-Lord, but it proved no easy task to reproduce the desired ‘warm, peachy look’ that director Simon Phillips so admired, for the colours that came out of the printer in no way matched the laser prints I had been given for reference. I spent the entire morning colour-correcting in Photoshop and printing test samples, before finally managing to print very reasonable facsimiles that Tracy was thrilled with.
What A Glorious Feeling!
Gene Kelly as Don Lockwood in Singin’ In The Rain
Melbourne’s in for rain and more rain this week … there’s a thundercloud overhead right now in fact, rumbling away. Everyone is desperate for sunshine, but our notoriously badly-behaved spring is running true to form.
So batten down the hatches, pop some corn and cosy up in front of a dvd: Singin’ in the Rain, to be precise. What better film to take your mind off the weather? There’s laughter, romance, 1920s fashion, glorious technicolour – and jumping in puddles.
Donald O’Connor, Debbie Reynolds and Gene Kelly sing ‘Good Morning’Of course, Gene Kelly’s Don Lockwood is feeling particularly joyful because he’s just fallen in love, but this movie is so light-hearted and uplifting that your troubles will be gone with the wind. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist the pun.)
If you want a real review because you have never (gasp! what rock have you been hiding under?) seen this film, go to Webomatica. The reviewer weighs up The Good and The Bad, and I can’t help but agree with him:
Works on multiple levels: musical, romantic comedy, social satire, and mood enhancer — each viewing puts me in a good mood, as it reminds me of the joy of movies and life itself. Another movie everyone should see before they die.
Falling in lilac
Washing Day
Washing DayMelbourne is in for a glorious, sunshiny weekend! It’s been a beautiful day so far and we’re not halfway through yet. There is nothing like sunshine and blue skies to lift your spirits – even if one is taking advantage of the weather and getting lots of washing done. Chores done today, I plan to spend at least part of tomorrow lying under an oak tree in the Botanic Gardens with a book.
Digital illustrations by So Not A Princess, 2010
The Chase
The Rites of Spring
It’s almost the end of the year, and my Vogue calendar gives me The New Silhouette from September 1925, illustrated by Harriet Meserole. It’s long and tubular, and entirely decked in a carnival of fringe – perfect for the Spring Racing Carnival. The new year begins afresh with spring, really, rather than merely following the numbers on a calendar.
Today is Melbourne Cup Day, unfortunately a dreary day at that, belying the promise of frivolity inherent in flimsy skirts and new high heels, and little hats that threaten to be carried off by an entirely seasonable stiff breeze.
When I googled references for ‘November’ all I found were paeans to autumnal harvests and melancholy poems to the dreary drip, drip of coming winter. Where are the Antipodean poets writing of spring, hope and new life and all that jazz? Wait, I forget, we’ll find them in the formguide and in the lyrical descriptions of the fashions on the field, and far too many allusions to the stable: young fillies kicking up their heels, thoroughbred beauties tossing their manes, impatient to be through the starter’s gate and quaffing their champagne. Those are the Australian rites of spring. Chin-chin!