Having read the 4 and 5 star reviews of Howard Davies’ production of All My Sons at the Apollo Theatre, I decided to go along to see if the show lived up to the hype : I was not disappointed.
At the heart of Arthur Miller’s drama is the Keller family, trying to re-build their lives following the disappearance of a son during the Second World War. Kate (Zoe Wanamaker), the boy’s mother, cannot, will not, believe that Larry has died, and continues to believe that one day he will return. Whilst Larry’s brother Chris (Stephen Campbell Moore), wants to marry Ann (Jemima Rooper), his brother’s former girlfriend. Joe (David Suchet), the family patriarch, acquitted of producing faulty airplane parts during the war, believes his past is forgotten, but his secret cannot be kept hidden forever.
This production was truly superb, and must be one of the best pieces of theatre I have seen. All aspects of the play; the production and the performances were fantastic.
Suchet’s performance, as the flawed everyman Joe Keller, is a tour de force; effortlessly depicting Joe’s change from the contented, self-assured family man, into a hated, self-hating man. Wanamaker’s portrayal of Kate, the woman at breaking point, due to her misguided faith that Larry will return, is fraught and emotionally charged. Although Suchet’s Joe is the stand out performance of the night, it is Wanamaker’s Kate, that gives the drama its heart, and the moments that truly touch the audience. All the other performances; Jemima Rooper’s Ann, Stephen Campbell Moore’s Chris, Daniel Lapaine’s George, are exceptional, and prove that this production has a great ensemble cast. In fact, were it not for Suchet’s extraordinary performance, you would be hard-pressed to choose the best performance of the evening.
The production itself is masterful; the set with its veranda and white picket fencing perfectly creates the soon to be shattered American Dream, the costumes complement each character beautifully, and the lighting effectively changes the mood and atmosphere on stage, and reflects the emotions of the various characters. Technical elements, such as lighting and sound are used successfully to create the storm, menacing and brooding which lies over the household.
This is a magnificent production, and thoroughly deserves all the praise it has received.
Sunday, 27 June 2010
ART AND WAR:THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR
The most well-known artistic reaction to the horrors of the Spanish Civil War is Picasso’s Guernica. Picasso who had publicly sided with the Republican cause, sought to convey the destruction inflicted upon the Basque town of Guernica by the German and Italian warplanes in support of Franco. There are numerous varying interpretations of Picasso’s Guernica: the use of sombre colours to express pain and chaos, flaming buildings and crumbling walls, that not only express the destruction of Guernica, but also the destructive power of civil war, and the broken sword in the painting symbolising the defeat of the people at the hand of their tormentors.
However, although Guernica was painted as a reaction to the suffering inflicted upon innocent people in Guernica, it has become much more than that. Guernica expresses the tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts upon individuals, especially innocent civilians. It is a painting that has gained a monumental status, becoming a perpetual reminder of the tragedies of war and an embodiment of peace.
Salvador Dalí also turned his attention to the social and political tragedy that had beset his homeland in paintings such as Autumn Cannibalism and Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War). In these paintings Dalí updated his earlier obsessions with cannibalistic mutilation and putrefaction to conjure up his own nightmarish vision of Spain on the brink of self-destruction. However, Dalí’s response to the Spanish Civil War was very different to that of Picasso: Dalí’s message is far more ambiguous and apolitical, reflecting his belief that the Spanish Civil War was an inevitable occurrence involving instinctual forces, a “phenomenon of natural history”, rather than a political event in which one had to take sides. Dalí adopted the clinical detachment of a scientist or neutral observer who does not flinch from representing the rotting stench of a decomposing body as a metaphor for his country’s inexorable slide into internecine combat. The artist believed that his savage image of Spain ripping itself apart foretold the reciprocal killings on both sides in this bloody conflict, as he later explained: “the Spanish corpse was soon to let the world know what its guts smelled like.”
However not all artists were willing to remain neutral whilst Franco increased his Fascist stranglehold on Spain: Joan Miró produced a powerful series of eight small scale etchings known as the “Black and Red Series”, in response to the agonies and horrors of the Civil War. The series, signs and symbols in black and blood red on white backgrounds, conveys the forces of war and oppression. The second print, and one of the closest to realism, depicts a family of three fragile figures, menaced by an ogre’s head, an icon of Franco with what seem to be horns for ears. Whilst the rest of the series is more complex: the horizontal and vertical plates are manipulated to create a bewildering web of biomorphic forms that reflect the horror and mutilation in a manner not dissimilar to that of Goya’s “Disasters of War” almost 200 years earlier. However, Miró also took part in more direct propaganda for the Republican cause: in 1937 he produced a poster, showing a Catalan peasant raising a defiant fist with the slogan “Help Spain”, to raise money for the Republicans.
Many artists, not merely Miró alone, volunteered their skills for the Ministry of Propaganda and the Committee for the Defence of Madrid.
George Orwell commented in his first hand account of the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia, that on his arrival in Barcelona: “The revolutionary posters were everywhere, flaming from the walls in clean reds and blues that made the few remaining advertisements look like daubs of mud.”
The Catalan poster artist Carles Fontseré described how the artists’ union would meet with the militias while fighting continued on the streets of Barcelona. The artists who volunteered their labour designed posters without interference from the militias, political parties or trade unions, who merely added their initials, emblems or slogans before sending the finished product to the printing presses. The Republican government used posters printed in Spanish, French and English to advertise the desperate plight of the Republic, encouraging volunteers from outside Spain to join the International Brigade and fight Fascism. These posters by pre-eminent artists such as the Communist artist Josep Renau, illustrate the dynamics of a debate about the efficacy of a committed political art that was as aware of avant-garde, expressionist and popular models as it was of Soviet socialist realism. However, the most important aspect of the posters of the Spanish Civil War was that they lasted after the war had ended. Members of the International Brigade collected them and took them home, or sent them home as postcards, whilst the Republican government gave the posters to visiting dignitaries, and they were also frequently reproduced in the press.
Therefore, art has ensured that the Spanish Civil War- its horrors and tragedies - lives on, not only in history books, but also in the visionary work that it inspired.
However, although Guernica was painted as a reaction to the suffering inflicted upon innocent people in Guernica, it has become much more than that. Guernica expresses the tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts upon individuals, especially innocent civilians. It is a painting that has gained a monumental status, becoming a perpetual reminder of the tragedies of war and an embodiment of peace.
Salvador Dalí also turned his attention to the social and political tragedy that had beset his homeland in paintings such as Autumn Cannibalism and Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War). In these paintings Dalí updated his earlier obsessions with cannibalistic mutilation and putrefaction to conjure up his own nightmarish vision of Spain on the brink of self-destruction. However, Dalí’s response to the Spanish Civil War was very different to that of Picasso: Dalí’s message is far more ambiguous and apolitical, reflecting his belief that the Spanish Civil War was an inevitable occurrence involving instinctual forces, a “phenomenon of natural history”, rather than a political event in which one had to take sides. Dalí adopted the clinical detachment of a scientist or neutral observer who does not flinch from representing the rotting stench of a decomposing body as a metaphor for his country’s inexorable slide into internecine combat. The artist believed that his savage image of Spain ripping itself apart foretold the reciprocal killings on both sides in this bloody conflict, as he later explained: “the Spanish corpse was soon to let the world know what its guts smelled like.”
However not all artists were willing to remain neutral whilst Franco increased his Fascist stranglehold on Spain: Joan Miró produced a powerful series of eight small scale etchings known as the “Black and Red Series”, in response to the agonies and horrors of the Civil War. The series, signs and symbols in black and blood red on white backgrounds, conveys the forces of war and oppression. The second print, and one of the closest to realism, depicts a family of three fragile figures, menaced by an ogre’s head, an icon of Franco with what seem to be horns for ears. Whilst the rest of the series is more complex: the horizontal and vertical plates are manipulated to create a bewildering web of biomorphic forms that reflect the horror and mutilation in a manner not dissimilar to that of Goya’s “Disasters of War” almost 200 years earlier. However, Miró also took part in more direct propaganda for the Republican cause: in 1937 he produced a poster, showing a Catalan peasant raising a defiant fist with the slogan “Help Spain”, to raise money for the Republicans.
Many artists, not merely Miró alone, volunteered their skills for the Ministry of Propaganda and the Committee for the Defence of Madrid.
George Orwell commented in his first hand account of the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia, that on his arrival in Barcelona: “The revolutionary posters were everywhere, flaming from the walls in clean reds and blues that made the few remaining advertisements look like daubs of mud.”
The Catalan poster artist Carles Fontseré described how the artists’ union would meet with the militias while fighting continued on the streets of Barcelona. The artists who volunteered their labour designed posters without interference from the militias, political parties or trade unions, who merely added their initials, emblems or slogans before sending the finished product to the printing presses. The Republican government used posters printed in Spanish, French and English to advertise the desperate plight of the Republic, encouraging volunteers from outside Spain to join the International Brigade and fight Fascism. These posters by pre-eminent artists such as the Communist artist Josep Renau, illustrate the dynamics of a debate about the efficacy of a committed political art that was as aware of avant-garde, expressionist and popular models as it was of Soviet socialist realism. However, the most important aspect of the posters of the Spanish Civil War was that they lasted after the war had ended. Members of the International Brigade collected them and took them home, or sent them home as postcards, whilst the Republican government gave the posters to visiting dignitaries, and they were also frequently reproduced in the press.
Therefore, art has ensured that the Spanish Civil War- its horrors and tragedies - lives on, not only in history books, but also in the visionary work that it inspired.
The Devil Inside Him: New Theatre, Cardiff
The Devil Inside Him, National Theatre Wales’s latest production, written by an 18 year old John Osborne, was performed once and then forgotten, until now. Rescued from the bowels of the British Library, dusted off, rehearsed, and revived, The Devil Inside Him shows Osborne as a rough diamond, developing and experimenting with ideas that would later make his name as the original ‘Angry Young Man’.
The production, set in the Welsh Valleys, portrays Huw Prosser’s (Iwan Rheon) struggle against stifling, civilised, middle-class, society. Bullied mercilessly by his peers, unloved by his god-fearing father, Mr Prosser (Derek Hutchinson) and his meek mother, Mrs Prosser (Helen Griffin), Huw struggles to find a place for himself in a society that is cruel, ugly and meaningless.
The Devil Inside Him has dated significantly, and certain aspects seem extremely old-fashioned to a modern audience particularly the tight grip religion has on the Prossers and the wider community, as well as the tremendous power wielded by Mr Gruffydd, the Minister (John Cording). This lack of relevance has detrimentally affected the production, although we are shocked by Huw’s behaviour, and disturbed by his increasingly erratic and troubled mind, it is at times, hard to empathise with any of the characters. The world created is too far removed from our own to say anything of note about our own society, but is not far enough to be of any historical significance. Furthermore the young Osborne has inhabited his play with a number of cliched, almost cut-out characters, such as the seductive maid, Dilys (Catrin Stewart), the loose-lipped, hired help, Mrs Evans (Rachel Lumberg) and the lecherous, and loose lodger Mr Stevens (Steven Elliott).
Despite the play’s weaknesses, Elen Bowman’s production itself is impressive. All the actors give strong performances; Rachel Lumberg shines as Mrs Evans, the gossiping, nosy maid, bringing humour and mischief into her scenes. Jamie Ballard, as Burn the medical student, gives a powerful, confident performance, effectively depicting his character’s inner conflict as he becomes Huw’s confidant. However, the best performance of the night, without a doubt, is Iwan Rheon’s exceptionally intense and brooding portrayal of Huw. Rheon skillfully masters Huw’s fluctuating, liquid-like temperament, as he transforms from a seething mass, ostracised from the rest of the world, into an individual compelled by his rage and fury to commit murder.
The production is technically accomplished; the costumes and set re-create the comfortable, claustrophobic mid-century, middle-class home. Whilst the condensation gathers on the windows, the wind howling outside the door, and the constant attempts to escape from the elements by closing the heavy living room curtains only accentuate the divide between the events within the house, and the world outside. The final scene in the production, as Huw ascends the stairs, and the upper floor of the house is finally revealed is aesthetically breath-taking. The upper floor of the house is completely ruined and the landscape is devastated, this creates a marked contrast between the oppressively ordered house below, and the utterly destroyed scene above.
The production is a success, due to the technical brilliance of its staging and the almost faultless acting. The play itself might not have been a masterpiece, but this is an unfair criticism of the first play of a young dramatist learning and developing his craft, who would go on to great things.
The production, set in the Welsh Valleys, portrays Huw Prosser’s (Iwan Rheon) struggle against stifling, civilised, middle-class, society. Bullied mercilessly by his peers, unloved by his god-fearing father, Mr Prosser (Derek Hutchinson) and his meek mother, Mrs Prosser (Helen Griffin), Huw struggles to find a place for himself in a society that is cruel, ugly and meaningless.
The Devil Inside Him has dated significantly, and certain aspects seem extremely old-fashioned to a modern audience particularly the tight grip religion has on the Prossers and the wider community, as well as the tremendous power wielded by Mr Gruffydd, the Minister (John Cording). This lack of relevance has detrimentally affected the production, although we are shocked by Huw’s behaviour, and disturbed by his increasingly erratic and troubled mind, it is at times, hard to empathise with any of the characters. The world created is too far removed from our own to say anything of note about our own society, but is not far enough to be of any historical significance. Furthermore the young Osborne has inhabited his play with a number of cliched, almost cut-out characters, such as the seductive maid, Dilys (Catrin Stewart), the loose-lipped, hired help, Mrs Evans (Rachel Lumberg) and the lecherous, and loose lodger Mr Stevens (Steven Elliott).
Despite the play’s weaknesses, Elen Bowman’s production itself is impressive. All the actors give strong performances; Rachel Lumberg shines as Mrs Evans, the gossiping, nosy maid, bringing humour and mischief into her scenes. Jamie Ballard, as Burn the medical student, gives a powerful, confident performance, effectively depicting his character’s inner conflict as he becomes Huw’s confidant. However, the best performance of the night, without a doubt, is Iwan Rheon’s exceptionally intense and brooding portrayal of Huw. Rheon skillfully masters Huw’s fluctuating, liquid-like temperament, as he transforms from a seething mass, ostracised from the rest of the world, into an individual compelled by his rage and fury to commit murder.
The production is technically accomplished; the costumes and set re-create the comfortable, claustrophobic mid-century, middle-class home. Whilst the condensation gathers on the windows, the wind howling outside the door, and the constant attempts to escape from the elements by closing the heavy living room curtains only accentuate the divide between the events within the house, and the world outside. The final scene in the production, as Huw ascends the stairs, and the upper floor of the house is finally revealed is aesthetically breath-taking. The upper floor of the house is completely ruined and the landscape is devastated, this creates a marked contrast between the oppressively ordered house below, and the utterly destroyed scene above.
The production is a success, due to the technical brilliance of its staging and the almost faultless acting. The play itself might not have been a masterpiece, but this is an unfair criticism of the first play of a young dramatist learning and developing his craft, who would go on to great things.
Shelf Life : Central Library, Swansea
Shelf Life, performed at the now defunct Central Library in Swansea is an experimental collaboration between National Theatre Wales, Volcano and Welsh National Opera, mixing drama, dance and music. Although the production tried to open the audience’s eyes to the possibilities created by a multi-discipline piece, it was not wholly successful.
The production attempted to raise many interesting issues about the future of our libraries, the increased threat of technology, as well as questioning the sort of society that closes libraries, and destroys books. These themes, if developed and dealt with convincingly could have been fascinating and thought provoking, however this was most definitely not the case.
This is not to say that Shelf Life was a complete failure. The production excelled in its early stages as a masked community choir filed into the courtyard, creating an almost pageant-like atmosphere. This coupled with an acrobat swinging rhythmically to the music, before settling to read her book on the building’s roof, only increased my expectations for the show ahead.
Unfortunately, the piece failed to build on the dramatic effect its opening scenes had created. Rather, the audience was introduced somewhat flatly to the concept of the Genizah, a burial space for Jewish religious texts, which added very little to the production. It seemed to be merely a stop-gap in the action to allow for the preparation of the following scenes and locations.
Before leaving the courtyard and entering the library, we were invited to take part in a literary clinic, and offered books as cures for our ailments. This injected humour into the piece, as well as using audience participation effectively to draw us into the play, and break down the barrier between audience and actor through our direct input into the production.
The audience entered the stacks, and was invited to explore this underground labyrinth; full of nooks, crannies, and long forgotten memories. This part of the production did not deliver because of the lack of coherent structure. Yes, it was an inspired idea to allow the audience to explore the stacks without guidance, however after a few moments we were all wandering aimlessly trying to work out what we were supposed to do, and what would happen next. This section should have been shorter, tighter, and the audience should have been given more leadership.
Following what felt like an eternity in the stacks, the audience was led into the reading room. Yet again, the piece lacked a sense of direction and a clarity of purpose. The audience was left wandering around the room, waiting for something, anything, to happen. At last we were directed to go and find the book which matched the library card we had received. This was a clever, playful use of the location and its props to ensure the audience was interacting with the production as well as playing their part in shaping it. However, asking audience members to read from their books was taking the idea of our participation too far, as some individuals were clearly uncomfortable with this, but felt compelled to continue.
Shelf Life tried to deal with too many issues at once, and therefore failed to grapple sufficiently with any of them. Furthermore, ill-discipline and a distinct lack of direction meant that most ideas were poorly executed or insufficiently developed.
The production attempted to raise many interesting issues about the future of our libraries, the increased threat of technology, as well as questioning the sort of society that closes libraries, and destroys books. These themes, if developed and dealt with convincingly could have been fascinating and thought provoking, however this was most definitely not the case.
This is not to say that Shelf Life was a complete failure. The production excelled in its early stages as a masked community choir filed into the courtyard, creating an almost pageant-like atmosphere. This coupled with an acrobat swinging rhythmically to the music, before settling to read her book on the building’s roof, only increased my expectations for the show ahead.
Unfortunately, the piece failed to build on the dramatic effect its opening scenes had created. Rather, the audience was introduced somewhat flatly to the concept of the Genizah, a burial space for Jewish religious texts, which added very little to the production. It seemed to be merely a stop-gap in the action to allow for the preparation of the following scenes and locations.
Before leaving the courtyard and entering the library, we were invited to take part in a literary clinic, and offered books as cures for our ailments. This injected humour into the piece, as well as using audience participation effectively to draw us into the play, and break down the barrier between audience and actor through our direct input into the production.
The audience entered the stacks, and was invited to explore this underground labyrinth; full of nooks, crannies, and long forgotten memories. This part of the production did not deliver because of the lack of coherent structure. Yes, it was an inspired idea to allow the audience to explore the stacks without guidance, however after a few moments we were all wandering aimlessly trying to work out what we were supposed to do, and what would happen next. This section should have been shorter, tighter, and the audience should have been given more leadership.
Following what felt like an eternity in the stacks, the audience was led into the reading room. Yet again, the piece lacked a sense of direction and a clarity of purpose. The audience was left wandering around the room, waiting for something, anything, to happen. At last we were directed to go and find the book which matched the library card we had received. This was a clever, playful use of the location and its props to ensure the audience was interacting with the production as well as playing their part in shaping it. However, asking audience members to read from their books was taking the idea of our participation too far, as some individuals were clearly uncomfortable with this, but felt compelled to continue.
Shelf Life tried to deal with too many issues at once, and therefore failed to grapple sufficiently with any of them. Furthermore, ill-discipline and a distinct lack of direction meant that most ideas were poorly executed or insufficiently developed.
Saturday, 10 April 2010
Nothing in life for free?
According to the old cliché nothing in life is free, however in the art world this is far from being the case. There are numerous galleries in London; the National Gallery, National Portrait Gallery, Tate Britain and the Tate Modern, to name a few, which are free. I am aware that you have to pay to see special exhibitions; however the breadth of work available to see without paying a penny is truly amazing.
It is possible to see masterpieces of the Renaissance, the Old Masters, Pre-Raphaelites, Impressionists, Surrealists and the best of contemporary art for nothing. It could be argued that this de-values art, but I would prefer to think that it in fact, makes art more valuable. After all, art should be available for all to see, regardless of the size of their pockets.
There is nothing better if you have a few hours to spare, than to wonder around one of these free galleries admiring the work on display. It is extremely unlikely that you will like everything that you see, you may not even like the majority of what is exhibited, but almost without doubt you will find something that you adore. Time after time you can return to see your personal favourites, or on second (or even third viewing) you will come to appreciate something which you had passed before without a second glance.
It is possible to see masterpieces of the Renaissance, the Old Masters, Pre-Raphaelites, Impressionists, Surrealists and the best of contemporary art for nothing. It could be argued that this de-values art, but I would prefer to think that it in fact, makes art more valuable. After all, art should be available for all to see, regardless of the size of their pockets.
There is nothing better if you have a few hours to spare, than to wonder around one of these free galleries admiring the work on display. It is extremely unlikely that you will like everything that you see, you may not even like the majority of what is exhibited, but almost without doubt you will find something that you adore. Time after time you can return to see your personal favourites, or on second (or even third viewing) you will come to appreciate something which you had passed before without a second glance.
Art of the Personal
Art is often used as a tool to react to the world in which we live, to the political and social climate in which we find ourselves, and the issues and debates which shape our communities, countries, and ultimately our own lives. However, art also has a much more personal and equally important responsibility, to give the artist or maker in question, the opportunity to grapple and come to terms with his/her own life, and his/her own unique problems.
This is not to say that art should be merely an introspective, catharsis for the artist, but rather that some of the most personal, most cherished possessions in a home, are also sometimes the most wonderful pieces of art. In the Quilts 1700-2010 exhibition, many of the works on display, were never meant to be exhibited as art, but used in the home for a particular purpose. It is only relatively recently that items such as quilts, bed linen and pieces of embroidery have been classified as Art with a capital A.
For this reason many of these pieces have an honesty and a clarity of message that is lacking in works by professional artists. There is a freedom here, a freedom not to conform to the trends and fashions of the particular period, as well as an ability to say anything without worrying about the sensibilities of the age. If a piece is to be seen solely within the confines of our own home, it is often much more personal and intimate than a piece which is knowingly going to be exhibited for the entire world to see. Perhaps, also crafts created for the home give us a better understanding of the period in which they were created, as well as the people who made them, and their lives. Do we not learn more from a quilt lovingly created from scraps of left-over fabric, each piece with its own story, and own significance, than we do from an oil painting created in the ivory tower of art college?
All forms of art are capable of beauty, but the art of the personal has a certain added magic.
This is not to say that art should be merely an introspective, catharsis for the artist, but rather that some of the most personal, most cherished possessions in a home, are also sometimes the most wonderful pieces of art. In the Quilts 1700-2010 exhibition, many of the works on display, were never meant to be exhibited as art, but used in the home for a particular purpose. It is only relatively recently that items such as quilts, bed linen and pieces of embroidery have been classified as Art with a capital A.
For this reason many of these pieces have an honesty and a clarity of message that is lacking in works by professional artists. There is a freedom here, a freedom not to conform to the trends and fashions of the particular period, as well as an ability to say anything without worrying about the sensibilities of the age. If a piece is to be seen solely within the confines of our own home, it is often much more personal and intimate than a piece which is knowingly going to be exhibited for the entire world to see. Perhaps, also crafts created for the home give us a better understanding of the period in which they were created, as well as the people who made them, and their lives. Do we not learn more from a quilt lovingly created from scraps of left-over fabric, each piece with its own story, and own significance, than we do from an oil painting created in the ivory tower of art college?
All forms of art are capable of beauty, but the art of the personal has a certain added magic.
Quilts 1700-2010: V & A Museum, London
Quilts 1700-2010 at the V & A is an exhibition that traces both the history and the social significance of quilts and quilt-making throughout Britain. The exhibition displays an eclectic mix of older, traditional quilts, along with work by modern artists such as Tracy Emin and Grayson Perry, as well as examples of quilt-making as a tool for good in society, such as the work of Fine Cell Work in prisons across the UK.
As with most exhibitions in the V&A, this one was extremely busy, making it hard at times to fully appreciate all the quilts. However, this is a very minor complaint, on an otherwise wonderful exhibition. Crafts are often over-looked by the art establishment, as they are often seen to be too low-brow, and lacking in true artistic merit or “vision”, I must admit that I disagree with this school of thought, and it was therefore, refreshing to see quilt-making being given its fair share of the limelight.
The works exhibited were organised chronologically which showed clearly how the social status of quilt-making had changed dramatically over time. Originally it was seen as a past-time suitable for upper middle-class ladies, and was a clear sign that someone had managed to climb the social ladder. However, with the rapid increase in imported materials, and shop bought textiles for the home, quilt-making became the preserve of those too poor to buy their own linen. This was true, until it experienced its recent renaissance due to hand-made, artisan crafts being very much in vogue.
The exhibition was successful in dispelling some myths about quilt-making, such as its reputation for being an almost exclusively female craft. There were works on display which had been created by men serving in the forces during the 18th and 19th centuries, as a way of keeping the soldiers from vices such as alcohol and gambling, and a patchwork quilt handmade by the inmates of Wandsworth prison. Furthermore, although there were many quilts which dealt with traditional themes and subjects such as the family life of its maker, be that a birth or a marriage, there were also quilts which dealt with a whole host of varies themes, such as the rise of China as a super power, Britain and multiculturalism, and abortion. These quilts proved beyond doubt, that this is a modern, thriving craft, that can effectively represent, not only the trials of the modern female (or male) life, but can also deal with issues that face the world as a whole.
I
will not attempt to describe even a fraction of the quilts on display, rather I will highlight my own personal favourites:
A quilt made from paper money, rather than from textiles, which showed the entire world made from the Chinese yuan. Not only was it obviously questioning the balance of power in the world today, and more importantly highlighted possible future changes in the world’s power structure, it was also exquisitely made, with exceptional attention to detail.
A patchwork made in India from minute pieces of military uniforms. The pattern and colours used have created a true masterpiece which has an aesthetic depth.
A design which used the symbol of the Union Jack, created in a number of different colour schemes to show the multicultural nature of modern Britain. Not only is the traditional symbol of Britishness used in a clever manner, it is also reclaimed from those organisations and parties which use it as a rallying cry for unsavoury standpoints.
Overall, this exhibition was remarkable, showing as it did the ability of ordinary people, with no formal art and design training to create truly beautiful work, and for that reason alone I would urge anyone and everyone to go to the V & A at once.
As with most exhibitions in the V&A, this one was extremely busy, making it hard at times to fully appreciate all the quilts. However, this is a very minor complaint, on an otherwise wonderful exhibition. Crafts are often over-looked by the art establishment, as they are often seen to be too low-brow, and lacking in true artistic merit or “vision”, I must admit that I disagree with this school of thought, and it was therefore, refreshing to see quilt-making being given its fair share of the limelight.
The works exhibited were organised chronologically which showed clearly how the social status of quilt-making had changed dramatically over time. Originally it was seen as a past-time suitable for upper middle-class ladies, and was a clear sign that someone had managed to climb the social ladder. However, with the rapid increase in imported materials, and shop bought textiles for the home, quilt-making became the preserve of those too poor to buy their own linen. This was true, until it experienced its recent renaissance due to hand-made, artisan crafts being very much in vogue.
The exhibition was successful in dispelling some myths about quilt-making, such as its reputation for being an almost exclusively female craft. There were works on display which had been created by men serving in the forces during the 18th and 19th centuries, as a way of keeping the soldiers from vices such as alcohol and gambling, and a patchwork quilt handmade by the inmates of Wandsworth prison. Furthermore, although there were many quilts which dealt with traditional themes and subjects such as the family life of its maker, be that a birth or a marriage, there were also quilts which dealt with a whole host of varies themes, such as the rise of China as a super power, Britain and multiculturalism, and abortion. These quilts proved beyond doubt, that this is a modern, thriving craft, that can effectively represent, not only the trials of the modern female (or male) life, but can also deal with issues that face the world as a whole.
I
will not attempt to describe even a fraction of the quilts on display, rather I will highlight my own personal favourites:
A quilt made from paper money, rather than from textiles, which showed the entire world made from the Chinese yuan. Not only was it obviously questioning the balance of power in the world today, and more importantly highlighted possible future changes in the world’s power structure, it was also exquisitely made, with exceptional attention to detail.
A patchwork made in India from minute pieces of military uniforms. The pattern and colours used have created a true masterpiece which has an aesthetic depth.
A design which used the symbol of the Union Jack, created in a number of different colour schemes to show the multicultural nature of modern Britain. Not only is the traditional symbol of Britishness used in a clever manner, it is also reclaimed from those organisations and parties which use it as a rallying cry for unsavoury standpoints.
Overall, this exhibition was remarkable, showing as it did the ability of ordinary people, with no formal art and design training to create truly beautiful work, and for that reason alone I would urge anyone and everyone to go to the V & A at once.
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