Artists community

Hello Artists and Art fans.

As you may already know, some of the external services which we have used to support our community have not functioned as expected. Most specifically, the chat room has performed rather poorly– if and when it functions at all. The recent billing problems with the chat provider have convinced us it is time to make some changes.

We are considering ways to fund these upgrades. While doing so, we would also like explore new ideas on how to create a platform which better serves the community.

The Artists Connect Community belongs to all who participate. That’s why we would like your input so we may include features you really want or will be useful to you for promoting your artworks.

Please take a few moments over the next few weeks to contribute your thoughts by taking part in this discussion.

Life on Venus

First of all I’d like to introduce myself to you all. My name is Katia, I am an artist and a writer and – last but not least – I am italian.
The aim of my presence here is to let you know something more about Italy and what is actually happening here.
Reading the foreign press I made myself sure that you know about italian politics and economy much more than Italians do.
Something strange is going on in our country: media, common sense and art are changing, often worsening. Sometimes I feel like a fish living in a pink glass bowl from where I can see “la vie en rose”. This positive attitude toward everything around is artificial. In Italy the same phenomenon occurred during the ’30ies.
At those times cinema, theatre and arts in general were inspired only by positive thinking.
Movies were just romantic comedies or plots about ancient history with a propagandistic purpose.
It’s what we call the “Telefoni bianchi” [white telephones] Era, named after a particular use of design and aesthetics in movies. The black bakelite telephones were not considered stylish enough, so the director Alessandro Blasetti required to paint the telephone in white to get a perfect delightful scene since the telephone was the only dark element in a room furnished in white. Nowadays, in Berlusconi’s Italy, the “think posive” attitude is turned from an ethereal white into a more fleshy pink. Pink is the dominating colour and female flesh is its perfect backup.
The pleasures of Venus are the main theme of a propaganda created to make Italians think everything is all right. Advertising, entertainment, politics, are carried by the use of female bodies… we will see how next time.
Follow me!

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In the picture: a video still from the ADV of a famous italian drink.

Polish Connections

February 10, 2010 · Drukuj

Life has been hugely enriched this year at St George the Martyr, because of our developing relationship with the Polish community in Southwark. I was reflecting recently on how this Polish Connection has evolved. My thinking took me back to the first Polish friends I ever made.

They lived in an apartment in the same house as me at Blackheath in the seventies. They were medical doctors, working at a local hospital, with two very gifted children, one who would become an artist and one a writer. more….

Selva Latina

Selva latina, or Tristes tropiques

Selva Latina

”…For the first time in  my life I was on the other side of the Equator, in the tropics, and in the New World. By what master-token should I recognize this triple transformation? What voice would confirm it for me, what never-yet- heard note ring out in my ear? Flippancies first: Rio seemed to me like one huge drawing-room.”

”The trees were so high that they seemed to touch the sky; and, if I understood right, they never lose their leaves; for they were as fresh and as green in November as ours are in the month of May; some were even in flower, and others were bearing fruit And wherever I turned the nightingales were singing, accompanied by thousands of other birds of one sort and another.”

Excerpts from:  Tristes tropiques, by Claude Lévi-Strauss; 1955.

Souvenirs

The World in my Apartment:

a coffee mug with Haida fish

a Grecian vase and soapstone Inuit owl

Laura’s black pot from the Fraser delta

two perfectly spherical stones
from the Capilano river

another (flat) stone
picked from the ground at Wounded Knee

my guitar
leaning against the wall
with a capo on the third fret
and souvenir buttons on the strap:
Graceland
Grand ol’ Opry
Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame
(to name a few)

a photograph of my father
as a young man in India
in the uniform of the Royal Air Force

trilobites from Ontario

my Mexican blanket with the Mitla motif

six pieces of charred paper blown from the
World Trade Center on 9/11
and picked off the streets of Brooklyn

photographs of Lake Louise

The 11th Hour

As we approach the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th Month when, finally, after 4 years of industrialised warfare, many millions dead, the guns fell silent.  The year was 1918.  Those young men and women of that era returned home hoping for new age of peace where war would be abolished for ever and ever. There seemed to be no victory for the victors, and no defeat for the defeated.  The shock of what had happened numbed so many, that neither emotion: victory nor defeat, had any meaning.  The only relevant human emotion was perhaps – survival.

Post WWI writers and artists then began to describe a world that all could share without the need for bullets and bombs to determine differences.  They saw a new world where intolerance of difference was a ‘value’ and not the instigator of industrialised violence.   They were rational humanitarians, or, as they were to be labelled by the art establishment, ‘Neo-Romantics’.

The term, ‘Neo-Romantic’ is, I believe, quite miss-leading.  Many of them were survivors from the horrors of WWI and many more of them predicated, in the face of difficulty or persecution, that another war would soon follow.  They were, as I suggested, ‘rational humanitarians’ who used their skills with letters or paint to cultivate reason to abstain from the evil that is warfare.  Of course these humanitarians, while being sensitive to the suffering of others, were castigated as, ‘cranks’ by those whose imagination was bounded by dogmatic political enterprise.  I recall the 1930’s writings of the English philosopher, Cyril Joad who best described the enduring difficulties the humanitarians faced:

“…The attitude of the rational humanitarianism which considers all suffering, wherever it may occur, equally relevant to its compassion is, like all the more recently evolved human attributes, achieved with difficulty and precariously maintained.  Let life become uncertain or insecure, and it drops away with the most alarming rapidity.  Thus ethically-minded vegetarians who in the early summer of 1914, avoided butchers’ shops and turned pale at the sight of blood, could be seen a few months later sticking bayonets into the stomachs of other men without turning a hair”

After many years in the military and in many wars I see this self same situation developing again.  We see, once more, ultra-right and left wing political movements on the march.  We see religious fundamentalism being fed insidiously into people minds.  We see national borders being raised, when one wall comes down another wall goes up somewhere else.  We see less humanitarian work and more celebrity culture.  We see more politically induced fear, feverously repeated through the media.  We see the powerful becoming even more powerful and the weak, weaker.  We see people denied the time to reflect on the horrors of war, while almost every news broadcast tells of wars and rumours of wars.  We see people having no rest from news of war and rumours of war, save the officially appointed times to remember those who died in war.  Yet, we see no peaceful vision of the future, where war will be no more.  We only see intolerance of difference, where in reality no differences have ever existed in human history.

At this time of year I cannot help but think of a man whose name has not properly entered the history books.  This is a man whose humanity, if given the chance, could have prevented the carnage that was WWI.  His name is Jean Jaurès.  He tried to organize a general strike of workers in France and Germany, pleading with the ordinary working person not to take up arms against each other for the sake simple nationhood, Royal families and the ruling aristocracy.  His international workers movement was growing and gaining momentum when he was assassinated shortly before the war, a war that only a few others desired, finally broke out.  11 million died, 20 million maimed for life, with untold millions traumatized.  History was to repeat itself 20 years later and keeps on repeating itself right up to this present day.

Many people around the world live in fear of what their masters will do next on their behalf, and we, the ordinary person keep on asking WHY?

We should always respectfully remember the fallen in war, for if we forget, then we forget that it could happen again and again and again.  I will remember and hope with all my heart that our love, compassion and humanity will end this cyclic madness for all times.

The ginkgoes of Brooklyn

This is a poem written some years ago upon the approach of winter.
As the ginkgo leaves turn yellow, and the nuts drop, Chinese women used to appear and gather the nuts up — not part of the poem, but interesting to recall. I thought of this poem while noticing the yellowing ginkgoes the other day during a walk around Brooklyn Heights.

AUTUMN_BROOKLYN

Human Touch Digitized?

I  posted this on londonpainting.blogspot.com in answer to a question about ‘dehumanizing’ art by using a computer.

Consider whether it is dehumaniszing for an artist to use a paintbrush made by another person or by a machine. Isn’t the artist giving up some control of the tool he uses, instead of fashioning it himself? As long as the artist knows what to do with the brush, should the process of manufacturing it matter?

I see computers as “e-brushes” for the artist. Generally, someone else sets up the rules of the software (which is in itself a sort of humanizing?) but then the artist is free to use the tool any way necessary. As we get used to making and seeing art produced using processors as part of the process, I think the human hand and mind will be every bit as evident in the artwork as it is with traditional methods.

Artists often just use the computer as a means of getting distance between themselves and the artwork. To allow for chance to intervene a bit. Pollock seldom touched a brush to his canvas, and that was over 60 years ago.

International Diversity in Art

may this blog develop into a positive international art forum with new ideas online and in the real world. Artists and art lovers as well as galleries and collectors are invited to join our blog to contribute and comment.

For moderation of posts and comments or to request membership as an author or contributor to this blog, please refer your enquiry to the most appropriate editor for your language.