Pub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2022.2075607
Catherine Mahoney
Medieval herbals were encyclopedic medicinal compilations that detailed the physical structure and therapeutic properties of a wide range of plants, animals, and minerals. These books were essential to the practice of medieval physicians and herbalists, who often cultivated or collected their own medicinal specimens for use in the treatment of patients. 1 A fifteenth-century printed herbal held in the University of Melbourne ’ s Baillieu Library Rare Books Collection has been identified through examination of a hand-written inscription as a first edition Hortus sanitatis , published in 1491 by the Mainz printer Jacob Meydenbach. 2 The 1491 edition is the only one produced by Meydenbach, although three more economical editions were published by the printer Johann Pr € uss, who reduced the amount of paper required by using a smaller type and increasing the lines in each column of text. The Baillieu acquired its copy of the Hortus in 1903 and, prior to conservation treatment at the University ’ s Centre for Cultural Materials Conservation, the book was in extremely fragile condition and missing its original binding and title page. 3 Containing only 386 of the original 454 leaves, the copy is imperfect; it retained, however, two alphabetised indices, several hundred hand-coloured woodcut illustrations, and a number of annotations in a later hand. 4 Many of the taxonomic entries in Meydenbach ’ s Hortus were Latin translations from a 1485 German-language compilation (also known as Hortus sanitatis, or Garten der Gesundheit ) by the printer Peter Sch € offer (c. 1425 – c. 1503), who was employed in the workshop of Johannes Gutenberg. 5 Unlike Sch € offer ’ s herbal, how-ever, Meydenbach ’ s version introduced a variety of fantastical and monstrous fauna, including the unicorn, the dragon, the manticore, the satyr, and the siren. Ostensibly a book of popular medicine, Meydenbach ’ s Hortus aligned itself closely with the tradition of the Christian bestiary, wherein the characteristics of various animals and monsters provided a didactic
中世纪草药是百科全书式的医学汇编,详细介绍了各种植物、动物和矿物的物理结构和治疗特性。这些书对中世纪医生和草药医生的实践至关重要,他们经常培养或收集自己的医学标本用于治疗患者。1通过对美因茨印刷商Jacob Meydenbach于1491年出版的《Hortus sanitatis》第一版手写铭文的检查,发现墨尔本大学Baillieu图书馆珍本收藏的一种15世纪印刷草药。2 1491年的版本是唯一一个由梅登巴赫生产的版本,尽管印刷商Johann Pr€uss出版了三个更经济的版本,他通过使用较小的字体和增加每列文本的行数来减少所需的纸张量。Baillieu于1903年获得了《Hortus》的副本,在大学文化材料保护中心进行保护处理之前,这本书处于极其脆弱的状态,缺少了最初的装订和扉页。3原件454页中只有386页,复印件不完善;然而,它保留了两个按字母顺序排列的索引,几百幅手绘木刻插图,以及后来的一些注释。4梅登巴赫的《Hortus》中的许多分类条目都是1485年印刷商Peter Sch€offer(约1425年至约1503年)的德语汇编(也称为Hortus sanitatis或Garten der Gesundheit)的拉丁语翻译,他受雇于约翰内斯·古腾堡的工作室。5与Sch€offer的草药不同,Meydenbach的版本引入了各种幻想和可怕的动物,包括独角兽、龙、螳螂、色狼和警笛。梅登巴赫的《霍图斯》表面上是一本流行医学的书,它与基督教动物寓言的传统紧密相连,其中各种动物和怪物的特征提供了一种说教
{"title":"The Siren and the Satyr as Spiritual Curatives in Jacob Meydenbach’s Hortus sanitatis","authors":"Catherine Mahoney","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2022.2075607","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2022.2075607","url":null,"abstract":"Medieval herbals were encyclopedic medicinal compilations that detailed the physical structure and therapeutic properties of a wide range of plants, animals, and minerals. These books were essential to the practice of medieval physicians and herbalists, who often cultivated or collected their own medicinal specimens for use in the treatment of patients. 1 A fifteenth-century printed herbal held in the University of Melbourne ’ s Baillieu Library Rare Books Collection has been identified through examination of a hand-written inscription as a first edition Hortus sanitatis , published in 1491 by the Mainz printer Jacob Meydenbach. 2 The 1491 edition is the only one produced by Meydenbach, although three more economical editions were published by the printer Johann Pr € uss, who reduced the amount of paper required by using a smaller type and increasing the lines in each column of text. The Baillieu acquired its copy of the Hortus in 1903 and, prior to conservation treatment at the University ’ s Centre for Cultural Materials Conservation, the book was in extremely fragile condition and missing its original binding and title page. 3 Containing only 386 of the original 454 leaves, the copy is imperfect; it retained, however, two alphabetised indices, several hundred hand-coloured woodcut illustrations, and a number of annotations in a later hand. 4 Many of the taxonomic entries in Meydenbach ’ s Hortus were Latin translations from a 1485 German-language compilation (also known as Hortus sanitatis, or Garten der Gesundheit ) by the printer Peter Sch € offer (c. 1425 – c. 1503), who was employed in the workshop of Johannes Gutenberg. 5 Unlike Sch € offer ’ s herbal, how-ever, Meydenbach ’ s version introduced a variety of fantastical and monstrous fauna, including the unicorn, the dragon, the manticore, the satyr, and the siren. Ostensibly a book of popular medicine, Meydenbach ’ s Hortus aligned itself closely with the tradition of the Christian bestiary, wherein the characteristics of various animals and monsters provided a didactic","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"46673653","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2022.2076037
C. De Lorenzo
As long ago as 2007 Florence Derieux was able to claim that ‘the art history of the second half of the twentieth century is no longer a history of artworks, but a history of exhibitions’. Exhibition histories allow a shift away from individual works, artists or art movements, to contingences across space that also invite social and political critique. In Australia, while there have been many studies of exhibitions at home and abroad, it is only relatively recently that an examination of the impact of art exhibitions on art history has been undertaken. Unlike some of these recent studies that embraced exhibitions across multiple media, Daniel Palmer and Martyn Jolly’s Installation View: Photography Exhibitions in Australia (1848-2020), focuses on a single medium, photography, albeit in many permutations over the last 170 years. Installation View draws the reader’s attention to the ways in which photography has been exhibited, and in so doing steps aside from the usual run of photography monographs on individuals, technologies or collections. It would seem that the first exhibition of photography for other than commercial gain was in 1854 when the Australian Museum enabled local audiences to preview diverse works, including daguerreotypes, from the colonies of Victoria and New South Wales before despatching them to the Exposition Universelle (1855) in Paris. By the final chapters, and there are 37 in all, the reader is reminded that photographers have long used posters, billboards, electronic screens and projections to take photography into the streets. The narrative centres on visual records of exhibitions; in the authors’ own words, it is ‘driven by installation photographs’ sourced from institutional and private archives. Arranged roughly chronologically, the visual material in each chapter is supported by mini chapters, or ‘vignettes’, ranging from less than 400 words to maybe 3,000. To document photo exhibitions from 1854 to 2020 is no mean feat, and it is very likely that established scholars in the field will encounter new information. While the specific focus perpetuates a separation of photography from other art forms, it also enables a vastly more comprehensive account of photography exhibitions than is possible in cross-media studies. Even so, a predilection for a single (if not singular) medium warrants a sustained argument, one that takes into account the very disciplinary-diverse readership and scholarship on photo histories. It may be that researchers across the humanities and the social sciences find
{"title":"Installation View: Photography Exhibitions in Australia (1848–2020)","authors":"C. De Lorenzo","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2022.2076037","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2022.2076037","url":null,"abstract":"As long ago as 2007 Florence Derieux was able to claim that ‘the art history of the second half of the twentieth century is no longer a history of artworks, but a history of exhibitions’. Exhibition histories allow a shift away from individual works, artists or art movements, to contingences across space that also invite social and political critique. In Australia, while there have been many studies of exhibitions at home and abroad, it is only relatively recently that an examination of the impact of art exhibitions on art history has been undertaken. Unlike some of these recent studies that embraced exhibitions across multiple media, Daniel Palmer and Martyn Jolly’s Installation View: Photography Exhibitions in Australia (1848-2020), focuses on a single medium, photography, albeit in many permutations over the last 170 years. Installation View draws the reader’s attention to the ways in which photography has been exhibited, and in so doing steps aside from the usual run of photography monographs on individuals, technologies or collections. It would seem that the first exhibition of photography for other than commercial gain was in 1854 when the Australian Museum enabled local audiences to preview diverse works, including daguerreotypes, from the colonies of Victoria and New South Wales before despatching them to the Exposition Universelle (1855) in Paris. By the final chapters, and there are 37 in all, the reader is reminded that photographers have long used posters, billboards, electronic screens and projections to take photography into the streets. The narrative centres on visual records of exhibitions; in the authors’ own words, it is ‘driven by installation photographs’ sourced from institutional and private archives. Arranged roughly chronologically, the visual material in each chapter is supported by mini chapters, or ‘vignettes’, ranging from less than 400 words to maybe 3,000. To document photo exhibitions from 1854 to 2020 is no mean feat, and it is very likely that established scholars in the field will encounter new information. While the specific focus perpetuates a separation of photography from other art forms, it also enables a vastly more comprehensive account of photography exhibitions than is possible in cross-media studies. Even so, a predilection for a single (if not singular) medium warrants a sustained argument, one that takes into account the very disciplinary-diverse readership and scholarship on photo histories. It may be that researchers across the humanities and the social sciences find","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"47634092","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2022-01-02DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2022.2076034
Matthew Martin
In 1939, the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) became the beneficiary of a rich private collecting legacy—the bequest of Mr Howard Spensley (1870–1938) of Westoning Manor, Bedfordshire. Howard Spensley was born in Melbourne in 1870, the son of the Hon. Howard Spensley (1834–1902), solicitor general of Victoria in 1871–72, commissioner for Victoria to the London exhibition of 1873, and MP for Finsbury Central in 1885–86. The younger Spensley was educated at Harrow and Trinity College, Cambridge, and became a barrister, with chambers in the Inner Temple. Before moving to Westoning in 1905, when he bought Westoning Manor, he lived in London and travelled widely, particularly to Egypt and Australia, where he had business interests. He was an avid collector, with wide-ranging tastes, and he assembled an impressive collection of paintings, drawings, sculptures, antiquities, bronzes, ceramics, glass, and furniture, the details of which, including date and place of purchase and the amount paid, he meticulously recorded in a handwritten catalogue. Those records are held in the rare books collection of the Shaw Research Library at the NGV, in Melbourne. Spensley died on 3 March 1938, bequeathing his art collection to the NGV. This group of nearly 800 artworks was transformative in a number of areas of the Melbourne art museum’s collection, especially the small group of Italian Renaissance maiolica works and the large group of Renaissance bronzes, mortars, and plaquettes. Among the bequeathed works was a collection of some sixteen ivory objects of various dates and places of origin, including a 1714 portrait bust of Isaac Newton by David le Marchand (4118-D3), perhaps the most significant work in this group. But it is another of these ivory works that concerns us here (fig. 1). Spensley’s catalogue entry describes the work thus:
1939年,维多利亚国家美术馆(NGV)成为了一笔丰厚的私人收藏遗产的受益者——贝德福德郡威斯宁庄园的霍华德·斯宾斯利先生(1870-1938)的遗赠。霍华德·斯宾斯利于1870年出生于墨尔本,他的父亲霍华德·斯宾斯利(1834-1902)曾于1871-72年担任维多利亚州副检察长,1873年担任维多利亚参加伦敦展览的专员,1885-86年担任芬斯伯里中央议员。小斯宾斯利在剑桥的哈罗公学和三一学院接受教育,并成为一名律师,在内殿设有办公室。1905年,他买下威斯顿庄园,搬到威斯顿,在此之前,他住在伦敦,经常旅行,特别是去埃及和澳大利亚,因为他在那里有商业利益。他是一个狂热的收藏家,爱好广泛,他收集了令人印象深刻的油画、素描、雕塑、古董、青铜器、陶瓷、玻璃和家具,他一丝不苟地在手写的目录中记录了细节,包括购买的日期、地点和支付的金额。这些记录保存在墨尔本NGV的Shaw研究图书馆的珍本藏书中。斯宾斯利于1938年3月3日去世,他将自己的艺术收藏遗赠给了国家档案馆。这组近800件艺术品在墨尔本艺术博物馆收藏的许多领域都是革命性的,尤其是一小部分意大利文艺复兴时期的马爵利卡陶瓷作品和大量文艺复兴时期的青铜器、灰泥和牌匾。在遗赠的作品中,有大约16件象牙制品,它们来自不同的年代和地点,其中包括大卫·勒·马尔尚(David le Marchand, 418 - d3)于1714年创作的艾萨克·牛顿半身像,这可能是这组作品中最重要的作品。但我们在这里关注的是另一件象牙作品(图1)。斯宾斯利的目录条目是这样描述这件作品的:
{"title":"A Peripatetic Virgin: A Seventeenth-Century Ivory Carving from Manila in the National Gallery of Victoria","authors":"Matthew Martin","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2022.2076034","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2022.2076034","url":null,"abstract":"In 1939, the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) became the beneficiary of a rich private collecting legacy—the bequest of Mr Howard Spensley (1870–1938) of Westoning Manor, Bedfordshire. Howard Spensley was born in Melbourne in 1870, the son of the Hon. Howard Spensley (1834–1902), solicitor general of Victoria in 1871–72, commissioner for Victoria to the London exhibition of 1873, and MP for Finsbury Central in 1885–86. The younger Spensley was educated at Harrow and Trinity College, Cambridge, and became a barrister, with chambers in the Inner Temple. Before moving to Westoning in 1905, when he bought Westoning Manor, he lived in London and travelled widely, particularly to Egypt and Australia, where he had business interests. He was an avid collector, with wide-ranging tastes, and he assembled an impressive collection of paintings, drawings, sculptures, antiquities, bronzes, ceramics, glass, and furniture, the details of which, including date and place of purchase and the amount paid, he meticulously recorded in a handwritten catalogue. Those records are held in the rare books collection of the Shaw Research Library at the NGV, in Melbourne. Spensley died on 3 March 1938, bequeathing his art collection to the NGV. This group of nearly 800 artworks was transformative in a number of areas of the Melbourne art museum’s collection, especially the small group of Italian Renaissance maiolica works and the large group of Renaissance bronzes, mortars, and plaquettes. Among the bequeathed works was a collection of some sixteen ivory objects of various dates and places of origin, including a 1714 portrait bust of Isaac Newton by David le Marchand (4118-D3), perhaps the most significant work in this group. But it is another of these ivory works that concerns us here (fig. 1). Spensley’s catalogue entry describes the work thus:","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2022-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45116623","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992729
P. Hoffie
The psychological self-portraiture running beneath so much of Gordon Bennett’s work was there in the first room. As was the historical revisionism. As was the post-colonial intervention. As was the artist’s critical responsiveness to so many of the racially divisive and damaging frameworks through which we construct our daily lives. Any number of possible narratives could have been used to structure this exhibition. But curator Zara Stanhope’s curatorial openness and her choice of chronological order provided full scope for the multi-layered, contradictory shifts in Bennett’s imaginary to speak clearly about the ambivalence from which they were born and the history of their imagining. The artist rapidly moved from the chance-game of letting an image evolve as if of its own volition, towards a system of representation where he was in full curatorial/artistic control. Bennett understood that, for his particular task, ‘art’ could not be separated from the order or structure of ‘language’. The first two rooms of the exhibition reveal how early he developed the themes that he would ‘worry’ productively about over his 25-year career. These earlier works, which laid bare the complex frameworks of ideas and imagery with transparently painful personal evidence, were soon left behind as the artist moved towards more controlled and strategic tactics in what was for him a game of emotional, psychological and racial life-and-death. Two images in the first room of the exhibition expose the deep uncertainties at the core of his work. In Untitled (Nuance) (1992), a strip of eight black and white self-portraits run above a grey-scale of seven rectangles spelling out the word ‘nuance’. In the first, the artist’s own face stares back at the camera over a rectangle of black. Presented with full-frontal, no-frills directness, it could be a mug shot or an anthropological study of an Australian Aboriginal male. Or both. In the succession of seven images that follow, it is unclear whether the subject is applying or removing the skin-like mask that adheres to his face. As Gordon well knew, in Black Skin, White Masks, Frantz Fanon speaks of the ‘epidermalization’ of the ‘black man’s’ ‘inferiority complex’. As if the skin itself binds the fixity of identity into being. But Fanon, a Lacanian psychoanalyst, also identifies the ‘massive psycho-existential complex’ emerging ‘from the juxtaposition of the white and black races’, and his analysis in that book focused on unravelling this complex.
{"title":"Unfinished Business: The Art of Gordon Bennett","authors":"P. Hoffie","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992729","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992729","url":null,"abstract":"The psychological self-portraiture running beneath so much of Gordon Bennett’s work was there in the first room. As was the historical revisionism. As was the post-colonial intervention. As was the artist’s critical responsiveness to so many of the racially divisive and damaging frameworks through which we construct our daily lives. Any number of possible narratives could have been used to structure this exhibition. But curator Zara Stanhope’s curatorial openness and her choice of chronological order provided full scope for the multi-layered, contradictory shifts in Bennett’s imaginary to speak clearly about the ambivalence from which they were born and the history of their imagining. The artist rapidly moved from the chance-game of letting an image evolve as if of its own volition, towards a system of representation where he was in full curatorial/artistic control. Bennett understood that, for his particular task, ‘art’ could not be separated from the order or structure of ‘language’. The first two rooms of the exhibition reveal how early he developed the themes that he would ‘worry’ productively about over his 25-year career. These earlier works, which laid bare the complex frameworks of ideas and imagery with transparently painful personal evidence, were soon left behind as the artist moved towards more controlled and strategic tactics in what was for him a game of emotional, psychological and racial life-and-death. Two images in the first room of the exhibition expose the deep uncertainties at the core of his work. In Untitled (Nuance) (1992), a strip of eight black and white self-portraits run above a grey-scale of seven rectangles spelling out the word ‘nuance’. In the first, the artist’s own face stares back at the camera over a rectangle of black. Presented with full-frontal, no-frills directness, it could be a mug shot or an anthropological study of an Australian Aboriginal male. Or both. In the succession of seven images that follow, it is unclear whether the subject is applying or removing the skin-like mask that adheres to his face. As Gordon well knew, in Black Skin, White Masks, Frantz Fanon speaks of the ‘epidermalization’ of the ‘black man’s’ ‘inferiority complex’. As if the skin itself binds the fixity of identity into being. But Fanon, a Lacanian psychoanalyst, also identifies the ‘massive psycho-existential complex’ emerging ‘from the juxtaposition of the white and black races’, and his analysis in that book focused on unravelling this complex.","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48779660","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992721
T. Juliff
Maurice Blanchot’s sparse 1994 text The Instant of My Death re-tells a story that intersects at the moment of gunshots and silences. Relating to an event in Nazioccupied France, the story is located where ontological certainties embedded in the silences are made insecure by the traumatic nature of the events that they are called upon to verify. In the story, a young man is faced with imminent death by a firing squad. He is saved, however, when his enemies are momentarily distracted and a Russian soldier tells him to ‘disappear’. As a result, the young man is saved to live with the uncanny feeling of having survived his death as well as the guilt at the death of his neighbours who did not share his good fortune. The three voices of Blanchot’s text, that of the narrator, that of the young man, and that of Blanchot himself, make the idea of a singular viewpoint problematic and blur the boundaries of identity. Who is the young man? At the same time, the affective impact of the event, ‘this unanalyzable feeling’, plays havoc with conventional temporal progression, placing death and the overcoming of the fear of death, or ‘perhaps already the step beyond’, in the middle of life. If the young man hears the thud of bodies falling beside him, he is—albeit momentarily—alive. No thud: dead. It is not the presence of gunshot but, rather, the absence of a fall that marks out death. The man survives as a witness of his own death, and as the blindfolded witness of the death of others. This auditory witnessing, or hearing of silences, haunts the young man, who lives the rest of his life, or should it be the rest of his death, awaiting the thud. Blanchot’s text reminds us that the witnessing of death might not require the visual evidence of absence. In the case of many ‘forcibly disappeared’ people in the Latin American context, this silence is a double-witness. It is the absence of the ‘thud’—the fall to the ground—that we witness. This sense of listening to that silence runs strongly
莫里斯·布朗肖(Maurice Blanchot)在1994年出版的《我死亡的瞬间》(The moment of My Death)内容稀疏,重新讲述了一个在枪声和寂静的时刻交织在一起的故事。关于纳粹占领下的法国的一个事件,这个故事发生在沉默中嵌入的本体论确定性,由于他们被要求核实的事件的创伤性而变得不安全。在这个故事中,一个年轻人面临着行刑队即将到来的死亡。然而,当他的敌人暂时分散了注意力,一名俄罗斯士兵告诉他“消失”时,他得救了。结果,这个年轻人得救了,他有了一种离奇的感觉,觉得自己从死亡中活了下来,同时也为邻居们没有分享他的好运而感到内疚。布朗肖文本的三种声音,叙述者的声音,年轻人的声音,以及布朗肖自己的声音,使单一观点的想法变得有问题,模糊了身份的界限。那个年轻人是谁?与此同时,事件的情感影响,“这种无法分析的感觉”,破坏了传统的时间进程,将死亡和对死亡的恐惧的克服,或者“可能已经超越了”,置于生命的中期。如果这个年轻人听到身体在他身边倒下的砰砰声,他就还活着——尽管只是暂时活着。没有砰的一声:死了。不是枪声的出现,而是没有摔下来的迹象表明死亡。这个人作为他自己的死亡的见证人,也作为蒙着眼睛的其他人的死亡的见证人而幸存下来。这种听觉上的见证,或听到寂静,萦绕着这个年轻人,他的余生,或者应该是他的余生,都在等待着那砰的一声。布朗肖的文章提醒我们,目睹死亡可能不需要缺席的视觉证据。在拉丁美洲许多“被迫失踪”的人的情况下,这种沉默是双重证人。我们看到的是没有“砰”的一声——摔在地上。这种倾听沉默的感觉非常强烈
{"title":"Silent Witnesses: Doris Salcedo and Blanchot","authors":"T. Juliff","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992721","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992721","url":null,"abstract":"Maurice Blanchot’s sparse 1994 text The Instant of My Death re-tells a story that intersects at the moment of gunshots and silences. Relating to an event in Nazioccupied France, the story is located where ontological certainties embedded in the silences are made insecure by the traumatic nature of the events that they are called upon to verify. In the story, a young man is faced with imminent death by a firing squad. He is saved, however, when his enemies are momentarily distracted and a Russian soldier tells him to ‘disappear’. As a result, the young man is saved to live with the uncanny feeling of having survived his death as well as the guilt at the death of his neighbours who did not share his good fortune. The three voices of Blanchot’s text, that of the narrator, that of the young man, and that of Blanchot himself, make the idea of a singular viewpoint problematic and blur the boundaries of identity. Who is the young man? At the same time, the affective impact of the event, ‘this unanalyzable feeling’, plays havoc with conventional temporal progression, placing death and the overcoming of the fear of death, or ‘perhaps already the step beyond’, in the middle of life. If the young man hears the thud of bodies falling beside him, he is—albeit momentarily—alive. No thud: dead. It is not the presence of gunshot but, rather, the absence of a fall that marks out death. The man survives as a witness of his own death, and as the blindfolded witness of the death of others. This auditory witnessing, or hearing of silences, haunts the young man, who lives the rest of his life, or should it be the rest of his death, awaiting the thud. Blanchot’s text reminds us that the witnessing of death might not require the visual evidence of absence. In the case of many ‘forcibly disappeared’ people in the Latin American context, this silence is a double-witness. It is the absence of the ‘thud’—the fall to the ground—that we witness. This sense of listening to that silence runs strongly","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"43947653","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992725
David M. Challis
From the moment Auguste Rodin (1840–1917) first exhibited his monument to the French author Honor e de Balzac at the 1898 Salon in Paris, it became the subject of ridicule and controversy (fig. 1). The daily newspaper Le Gaulois exclaimed, ‘Help me find something beautiful in these goiters, these growths, these hysterical distortions!’ The commissioning body for the monument, the Paris-based literary union Soci et e des Gens de Lettres, famously claimed it could not recognise the author Balzac in the sculpture and refused to accept or pay for it. Rodin responded by withdrawing the sculpture from the exhibition and transporting it back to his studio, where it remained until after his death. In 1955, more than half a century later, Balzac experienced an entirely different reception when it was welcomed into the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In the press release announcing the arrival of the sculpture, Alfred Barr, the museum’s director, declared that it was ‘one of the very great sculptures in the entire history of Western art’. This article examines the dramatic reversal in the critical appreciation of Balzac, which precipitated its acquisition by the Felton Bequest on behalf of the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) in 1964. The NGV’s campaign to acquire Balzac was not without its own controversies, and these are explored in detail using unpublished archival correspondence and gallery records from the 1960s. Unfortunately, the sculpture courtyard where Balzac was originally exhibited at the NGV’s then new St Kilda Road building was later abandoned, consigning the sculpture to relative obscurity in the gallery’s rear garden. More recent scholarship on Rodin’s late-career sculptures has provided new insights into the interconnection between his use of materiality, the object nature of sculpture, and the foregrounding of the artist through performative markings. An exploration of these themes in relation to Rodin’s Balzac provides a new reason for the NGV to celebrate its status as one of the departure points for the early twentieth-century turn toward modern sculpture.
从奥古斯特·罗丹(1840–1917)在1898年巴黎沙龙首次展出法国作家巴尔扎克纪念碑的那一刻起,它就成为了嘲笑和争议的主题(图1)。日报Le Gaulois惊呼道:“帮我在这些甲状腺肿、这些生长物、这些歇斯底里的扭曲中找到美丽的东西!”这座纪念碑的委托机构,总部位于巴黎的文学联盟Soci et e des Gens de Lettres,以其无法认出雕塑中的作家巴尔扎克而闻名,并拒绝接受或支付费用。作为回应,罗丹将雕塑从展览中撤回,并将其运回工作室,直到他去世。1955年,半个多世纪后,巴尔扎克被纽约现代艺术博物馆永久收藏,受到了完全不同的欢迎。在宣布雕塑抵达的新闻稿中,博物馆馆长阿尔弗雷德·巴尔宣称,这是“整个西方艺术史上非常伟大的雕塑之一”。这篇文章探讨了对巴尔扎克的批判性评价发生了戏剧性的逆转,这促使费尔顿·贝克斯特于1964年代表维多利亚国家美术馆(NGV)收购了巴尔扎克。NGV收购巴尔扎克的运动并非没有争议,这些争议通过20世纪60年代未出版的档案通信和画廊记录进行了详细探讨。不幸的是,巴尔扎克最初在NGV当时的新圣基尔达路大楼展出的雕塑庭院后来被废弃,使雕塑在画廊的后花园中相对默默无闻。最近对罗丹职业生涯后期雕塑的研究为他对物质性的使用、雕塑的客体性质以及艺术家通过表演标记的前景之间的相互联系提供了新的见解。结合罗丹的《巴尔扎克》对这些主题的探索,为NGV庆祝其作为20世纪初转向现代雕塑的出发点之一的地位提供了一个新的理由。
{"title":"Goitres, Growths, and Distortions: Rodin’s Balzac in Melbourne","authors":"David M. Challis","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992725","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992725","url":null,"abstract":"From the moment Auguste Rodin (1840–1917) first exhibited his monument to the French author Honor e de Balzac at the 1898 Salon in Paris, it became the subject of ridicule and controversy (fig. 1). The daily newspaper Le Gaulois exclaimed, ‘Help me find something beautiful in these goiters, these growths, these hysterical distortions!’ The commissioning body for the monument, the Paris-based literary union Soci et e des Gens de Lettres, famously claimed it could not recognise the author Balzac in the sculpture and refused to accept or pay for it. Rodin responded by withdrawing the sculpture from the exhibition and transporting it back to his studio, where it remained until after his death. In 1955, more than half a century later, Balzac experienced an entirely different reception when it was welcomed into the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In the press release announcing the arrival of the sculpture, Alfred Barr, the museum’s director, declared that it was ‘one of the very great sculptures in the entire history of Western art’. This article examines the dramatic reversal in the critical appreciation of Balzac, which precipitated its acquisition by the Felton Bequest on behalf of the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) in 1964. The NGV’s campaign to acquire Balzac was not without its own controversies, and these are explored in detail using unpublished archival correspondence and gallery records from the 1960s. Unfortunately, the sculpture courtyard where Balzac was originally exhibited at the NGV’s then new St Kilda Road building was later abandoned, consigning the sculpture to relative obscurity in the gallery’s rear garden. More recent scholarship on Rodin’s late-career sculptures has provided new insights into the interconnection between his use of materiality, the object nature of sculpture, and the foregrounding of the artist through performative markings. An exploration of these themes in relation to Rodin’s Balzac provides a new reason for the NGV to celebrate its status as one of the departure points for the early twentieth-century turn toward modern sculpture.","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"41548978","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992730
Vivien Johnson
{"title":"Obituary: Michael Jagamara Nelson (c. 1947-2020) “Without the story the painting is nothing”","authors":"Vivien Johnson","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992730","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992730","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"45000208","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992723
Sophie Rose
In one of the earliest critical texts on Lindy Lee, Rex Butler allegorised the Brisbane-born artist’s use of photocopies through Jorge Luis Borges’s short story ‘Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote’. Borges’s story-cum-thought-experiment is as follows: the protagonist, Pierre Menard, pledges to write the seventeenth-century masterpiece Don Quixote—not to adapt it, nor to mechanically copy it, but to arrive at the novel independently and fully, three centuries later. On paper, Menard is a deranged plagiarist, yet through his ‘deliberate anachronism and fallacious attribution’, he produces a genuinely novel framing of the text. There is something of Menard in Lee’s fuzzy carbon copies. By borrowing from a bank of artistic ‘masters’, she untethers the historical image from its author and bestows it with new signification. But there is another story by Borges, equally pertinent to Lee’s work. ‘Funes the Memorious’ tells the tale of the extraordinary man Ireneo Funes who, after a riding injury, could remember every moment of his past in excruciating detail. Memory paralysed him. Not only did he remember every object he encountered but the quality of that object from all angles, at all times of day. He remembered his own face so accurately that he was startled by the microscopic evidence of ageing reflected in the mirror each morning. He learnt English, French, Portuguese, and Latin within days but, finding them all unsatisfactory in describing his plethora of experiences, he created his own mad language in which every memory was catalogued with an arbitrary number or word. Funes’s absolute recall of the world meant that he could not understand it. No patterns emerged in the ‘garbage heap’ of his mind, so that childhood memories were tangled with events just past, as each moment hauled him into an unfamiliar mass of sensation. In the story of Funes we find a strange but irrefutable lesson: that to make sense of the past, we must, at some level, forget it. In the late 1980s, Lee began a long series of appropriative works using the Xerox photocopier, which was to become her signature medium during the 1990s and early 2000s. During this time Lee also applied black wax onto brightly painted canvases: carving out the outlines of historical artworks from the dark, viscous substance. Cousins of the Xerox works and equally arresting, these two-tonal canvases are, sadly, outside the scope of this essay. In subsequent decades, the artist
{"title":"Xerox Memory: Lindy Lee’s Photocopies","authors":"Sophie Rose","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992723","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992723","url":null,"abstract":"In one of the earliest critical texts on Lindy Lee, Rex Butler allegorised the Brisbane-born artist’s use of photocopies through Jorge Luis Borges’s short story ‘Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote’. Borges’s story-cum-thought-experiment is as follows: the protagonist, Pierre Menard, pledges to write the seventeenth-century masterpiece Don Quixote—not to adapt it, nor to mechanically copy it, but to arrive at the novel independently and fully, three centuries later. On paper, Menard is a deranged plagiarist, yet through his ‘deliberate anachronism and fallacious attribution’, he produces a genuinely novel framing of the text. There is something of Menard in Lee’s fuzzy carbon copies. By borrowing from a bank of artistic ‘masters’, she untethers the historical image from its author and bestows it with new signification. But there is another story by Borges, equally pertinent to Lee’s work. ‘Funes the Memorious’ tells the tale of the extraordinary man Ireneo Funes who, after a riding injury, could remember every moment of his past in excruciating detail. Memory paralysed him. Not only did he remember every object he encountered but the quality of that object from all angles, at all times of day. He remembered his own face so accurately that he was startled by the microscopic evidence of ageing reflected in the mirror each morning. He learnt English, French, Portuguese, and Latin within days but, finding them all unsatisfactory in describing his plethora of experiences, he created his own mad language in which every memory was catalogued with an arbitrary number or word. Funes’s absolute recall of the world meant that he could not understand it. No patterns emerged in the ‘garbage heap’ of his mind, so that childhood memories were tangled with events just past, as each moment hauled him into an unfamiliar mass of sensation. In the story of Funes we find a strange but irrefutable lesson: that to make sense of the past, we must, at some level, forget it. In the late 1980s, Lee began a long series of appropriative works using the Xerox photocopier, which was to become her signature medium during the 1990s and early 2000s. During this time Lee also applied black wax onto brightly painted canvases: carving out the outlines of historical artworks from the dark, viscous substance. Cousins of the Xerox works and equally arresting, these two-tonal canvases are, sadly, outside the scope of this essay. In subsequent decades, the artist","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"48461591","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992724
M. Lee
almost monochrome. As a former assistant to another lawman, Rover Thomas, Dirrji painted flat passages of red, black, and white pigment (omitting the yellow on this occasion). In the seventh painting, All Different Languages for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal People, seventeen red or black ovoid shapes are surrounded by white pigment. Beyond that, a red and black border follows the canvas edge. This has an important dual function: it not only frames the white ‘ground’ but it also sinks below it to suggest a subterranean layer (see fig. 4). Figure 4. Two Laws, One Big Spirit series: Dirrji (Rusty Peters), All Different Languages for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal People (left), 2000, natural ochre on linen, 135 122 cm; and Peter Adsett, Number Eight (right), 2000, acrylic on linen, 135 122 cm. Grantpirrie Collection, NSW. Photo: courtesy of Grantpirrie Collection. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art, vol. 21, no. 2
{"title":"Frame-work: Borders and the Limits of Representation in Recent Paintings by Peter Adsett","authors":"M. Lee","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992724","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992724","url":null,"abstract":"almost monochrome. As a former assistant to another lawman, Rover Thomas, Dirrji painted flat passages of red, black, and white pigment (omitting the yellow on this occasion). In the seventh painting, All Different Languages for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal People, seventeen red or black ovoid shapes are surrounded by white pigment. Beyond that, a red and black border follows the canvas edge. This has an important dual function: it not only frames the white ‘ground’ but it also sinks below it to suggest a subterranean layer (see fig. 4). Figure 4. Two Laws, One Big Spirit series: Dirrji (Rusty Peters), All Different Languages for Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal People (left), 2000, natural ochre on linen, 135 122 cm; and Peter Adsett, Number Eight (right), 2000, acrylic on linen, 135 122 cm. Grantpirrie Collection, NSW. Photo: courtesy of Grantpirrie Collection. Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art, vol. 21, no. 2","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42634599","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-07-03DOI: 10.1080/14434318.2021.1992720
Kit Messham-Muir
Introduction When a snap general election was called in the United Kingdom in 2017, Cornelia Parker, one of that nation’s most prominent and celebrated contemporary artists dealing often in war and conflict, was appointed as the official British election artist. The 2017 election followed less than a year after the 2016 Brexit referendum, as the Conservative government, committed to making good on the outcome of the 2016 referendum, hoped to have elected more pro-Brexit MPs into the House of Commons in an attempt to push through Prime Minister Theresa May’s deal with the European Union. The plan backfired, forcing May into leading a minority government, the second in a decade. This further prolonged and intensified the political turbulence and eventually led to May’s tearful resignation in 2019 and yet another general election later that year, called by the new prime minister, Boris Johnson. The 2016 Brexit referendum is commonly recognised as one of the most fierce and toxic votes in modern British history. Its campaigns were marked by widespread and blatant disinformation, overt ethno-nationalist politics, and the violent assassination of the pro-Remain MP Jo Cox. With the election following barely one year after the Brexit vote, and being triggered by the political impossibility of delivering the outcome of the referendum, Parker may well have felt more like an official war artist than an official election artist. Parker created two significant video works as the 2017 election artist. The first was Left Right & Centre (2017) (fig. 1), a haunting and aesthetically rich work shot mostly by drone in the chamber of Britain’s House of Commons, the democratically elected lower house of government. The work depicts the dispatch boxes at the centre of the Commons chamber stacked with various British daily newspapers, representing the left, right and centre of British politics. The drone’s rotors stir up the pages of the newspapers until the entire chamber is chaotically littered in drifts of newsprint. Parker’s other work, Election Abstract (2017),
{"title":"The War Itself: Cornelia Parker’s Official Election Art, Post-2016 Democracy and the Weaponisation of Social Media","authors":"Kit Messham-Muir","doi":"10.1080/14434318.2021.1992720","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/14434318.2021.1992720","url":null,"abstract":"Introduction When a snap general election was called in the United Kingdom in 2017, Cornelia Parker, one of that nation’s most prominent and celebrated contemporary artists dealing often in war and conflict, was appointed as the official British election artist. The 2017 election followed less than a year after the 2016 Brexit referendum, as the Conservative government, committed to making good on the outcome of the 2016 referendum, hoped to have elected more pro-Brexit MPs into the House of Commons in an attempt to push through Prime Minister Theresa May’s deal with the European Union. The plan backfired, forcing May into leading a minority government, the second in a decade. This further prolonged and intensified the political turbulence and eventually led to May’s tearful resignation in 2019 and yet another general election later that year, called by the new prime minister, Boris Johnson. The 2016 Brexit referendum is commonly recognised as one of the most fierce and toxic votes in modern British history. Its campaigns were marked by widespread and blatant disinformation, overt ethno-nationalist politics, and the violent assassination of the pro-Remain MP Jo Cox. With the election following barely one year after the Brexit vote, and being triggered by the political impossibility of delivering the outcome of the referendum, Parker may well have felt more like an official war artist than an official election artist. Parker created two significant video works as the 2017 election artist. The first was Left Right & Centre (2017) (fig. 1), a haunting and aesthetically rich work shot mostly by drone in the chamber of Britain’s House of Commons, the democratically elected lower house of government. The work depicts the dispatch boxes at the centre of the Commons chamber stacked with various British daily newspapers, representing the left, right and centre of British politics. The drone’s rotors stir up the pages of the newspapers until the entire chamber is chaotically littered in drifts of newsprint. Parker’s other work, Election Abstract (2017),","PeriodicalId":29864,"journal":{"name":"Australian and New Zealand Journal of Art","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1,"publicationDate":"2021-07-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"42614096","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}