La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
Lulu and I caught one of the special exhibits at the Centre Pompidou Málaga, “A time of one’s own”, subtitled “Escaping the clock.” The exhibit was pulled together from the permanent collection based on the premise:
“For long months our daily life has been altered by the limitations imposed by the health situation. As in any other tourist city, the streets of Malaga and Paris were deserted and their cultural facilities remained closed. Suddenly, instead of the frenzy of contemporary urban life, we were surrounded by calm and silence. A similar break occurred at the individual level. Confined to isolation and inner withdrawal, each one was confronted with himself and forced to take a reflective pause, which in turn was an invitation to rethink our relationship with time. Above all, with the time we dedicate to ourselves.”
There was much more to the explanation than that. I prefer to take art on my own terms, so this artifical construction with its “six chapters” — leisure time, vacation, introspection, intermission, interior/internal, and confrontation time — with painstaking explanations of the premise (several paragraphs on the wall in Spanish, English, and French) at the entry of each area of the exhibition was all a bit much for me. I stopped reading and simply enjoyed [most of] the art. Call me a Philistine.
Still, I had a great time. I’ve split the exhibit into two sections for blogging. Today’s art is primarily 2-dimensional. I’ll leave it to you to decide which chapters the art represents. It really doesn’t matter to me. As I said, Philistine. And no lectures, please. I have a degree in art. I have my own strong and slightly informed opinions. (Photo at top: Leisure activities, a tribute to Louis David. Fernand Léger, 1948–1949.)
Nutrition and Fitness Report
Stretching: Once a day.
Walking: 4 km / 2.5 miles Monday. On my way out for a long walk before the heat of the day.
Gym: Great chest and back workout, and leg work Monday. One-minute plank.
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Lulu y yo vimos una de las exhibiciones especiales en el Centro Pompidou Málaga, “Un tiempo propio”, subtitulada “Escapándose del reloj”. La muestra se armó a partir de la colección permanente bajo la premisa:
“Durante largos meses nuestra vida cotidiana se ha visto alterada por las limitaciones que impone la situación sanitaria. Como en cualquier otra ciudad turística, las calles de Málaga y París quedaron desiertas y sus equipamientos culturales permanecieron cerrados. De repente, en lugar del frenesí de la vida urbana contemporánea, estábamos rodeados de calma y silencio. Un quiebre similar se produjo a nivel individual. Confinados en el aislamiento y el recogimiento interior, cada uno se vio confrontado consigo mismo y obligado a hacer una pausa reflexiva, que a su vez era una invitación a repensar nuestra relación con el tiempo. Sobre todo, con el tiempo que nos dedicamos a nosotros mismos”.
Había mucho más en la explicación que eso. Prefiero abordar el arte en mis propios términos, por lo que esta construcción artificial con sus “seis capítulos” —tiempo libre, vacaciones, introspección, intermedio, interior/interno y tiempo de confrontación— con minuciosas explicaciones de la premisa (varios párrafos sobre el pared en español, inglés y francés) a la entrada de cada área de la exposición fue demasiado para mí. Dejé de leer y simplemente disfruté [la mayor parte] del arte. Llámame filisteo.
Aún así, me lo pasé genial. He dividido la exhibición en dos secciones para bloguear. El arte de hoy es principalmente bidimensional. Te dejaré decidir qué capítulos representa el arte. Realmente no me importa. Como dije, filisteo. Y nada de sermones, por favor. Tengo una licenciatura en arte. Tengo mis propias opiniones fuertes y ligeramente informadas. (Foto superior: Ocio Homenaje a Louis David. Fernand Léger, 1948–1949.)
Informe de Nutrición y Estado Físico
Estiramiento: Una vez al día.
Caminando: 4 km / 2,5 millas lunes. En camino para un largo camino ahora antes del calor del día.
Gimnasio: Excelente pecho y espalda, y piernas lunes. Plancha de un minuto.
• Lulu bajando las escaleras — en su propio tiempo.
• Jugadores de petanca n.˚ 2. Auguste Herbin, 1923.
• De repente, el último verano. Martial Raysse, 1963.
• Playa del Plat-Gousset, Granvile. Jacques Faujour, 1982.
• Sueño hollywoodense. Jean Cocteau, 1953.
• Lectora sobre fondo negro. Henri Matisse, 1939.
• ¿Recuerdas la caja de cristal? (haz clic aquí) Esto es lo que parece desde abajo.
• Dominación. Valérie Favre, 2004.
“The viewer is plunged into a space that seems to stretch beyond the limits of the painting in an experience of perception and contemplation.” OK then. I must admit, it’s growing on me.
• Tríptico Luz. Geneviève Asse, 1970–1971.
“El espectador se sumerge en un espacio que parece rebasar los límites del cuadro, en una experiencia de percepción y contemplación.” Bien entonces. Debo admitir que está creciendo en mí.
Oh….i love the art and that stained glass! My favorite is the boy sleeping with the Lion.
Mistress Borghese:
I agree about that John Cocteau painting. And I love the building itself.
We have dear friends who stop and read every word, not me.
David:
I sometimes find the info fascinating and informative, although I’ve never been one to read every single word. But this was an example of my least favorite kind of curating.
Some wonderful pieces. I would have read a few lines and then walked on myself.
Bob:
I was soured at first by the writing. Once I got over that, I really enjoyed the exhibit.
I’m more like you – let the art be the art.
sillygirl:
Absolutely. And the art there WAS the art.
I guess I’m a Philistine too! I never read explanations in any museum, exhibit or gallery. I prefer my experience to be unmediated. I’m more than capable of interpreting what I see on my own.
And even if I did want to read the placards, I’ve noticed an unwelcome current trend in museums especially — everything is dimly lit with very subdued lighting. Half the time I can barely see the exhibits, let alone any printed material accompanying them.
Debra:
The museums I’ve experienced in Málaga have bucked that dimly lit trend. Really well done while protecting the art. Even this, with the over-the-top descriptions, was easily seen.
Interesting art. That first one is funky.
Frank:
I love the energy in the first (by Fernand Léger). Other than the telling-us-what-to-think descriptions I loved the exhibit.
I like all of these…..especially the first one of the ‘lawn bowlers’ and the 3’s photo at the beach.
Art is very subjective and ought to be left to the individual’s impression alone.
Jim:
I (obviously) agree. Lulu and I both gasped at the 3s photo. So many stories being told at once. A perfect moment in time.
I’m not sure it’s possible to have a degree in art AND be a Philistine. But I know what you mean about long, wordy explanations posted with art exhibits. Sometimes it feels like the curators are just trying too hard. That Jean Cocteau painting is FAB! I’d hang that in my house. (If I were a millionaire.)
Steve:
I didn’t mention that I got my degree in ancient Philistia. Isn’t that Cocteau amazing? I’m always surprised when I see art don’t remember seeing even in a book by artists I well know.
I like!
(No long explanation, just take my comment for my comment.)
Ha!
Judy C:
I’ll have to ask someone else what you actually MEAN. Is there a curator available?
sleeping with the lion is my favorite, too.
Wilma:
Yes, that’s a big hit.
I look at art in a similar fashion. At first I read, then I give up and just interpret it myself.
mcpersonalspace54:
I like to read for the historical information or sometimes to learn what the artist actually said about it, but not to be told what to think.
Same here.
Meh…words are for books. Art is for viewing and contemplating.
Sassybear:
Perfect!
I guess it depends on how representational the art. If it’s TOO abstract–not Picasso, not Matisse, but Jackson Pollock or Mark Rothko, then, yeah, I do need a bit of help (as you know, Mitchell, on my own blog it’s mostly comic strip art. THAT I can explain, but then I guess that’s why some kid named David once hit me with a rock.)
As for the painting from Jean Cocteau, who was a filmmaker as well as an artist, I think the explanation is in the title.
Kirk:
But what did Cocteau MEAN? Argh. Where is that David now? I’ll take care of him for you.
Art pretty much rules my world thusly ~ je ne suis pas un philistin ~I am gobbling up your offerings!
Ron,
You would have such a good time here.