Showing posts with label Pablo Picasso. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pablo Picasso. Show all posts

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Anke Feuchtenberger's Somnambule - Coda

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Images:
1. Les Demoiselles D'Avignon (the young women of Avignon) by Pablo Picasso (1907); demoiselles two and three (if we count left to right) are usually linked by art historians to Picasso's inspiration in two 5th century Iberian idols stolen from the Louvre by his friend poet Guillaume Apollinaire's lover Géret Pieret and probably sold to the painter; I don't say that they're wrong, but I also say that these figures are caricatural, highly simplified drawings; are these the first example of "serious caricatures" in the history of art?;
2. another giant of 20th century art, Paul Klee, did these caricatures of birds (Zwitschermaschine - the twittering machine -, 1922); if you look closely you'll notice that Saul Steinberg is not very far away;
3. A Woman on the Beach Holding a Starfish in Her Outstretched Hand by Nuria Quevedo (2009, methinks);
4. "The blood colors the water red." "Die see jungfrau," Die kleine Dame, Jochen Enterprises, 1997; the young woman from the sea cuts her fish tail in two halves; Anke Feuchtenberger's graphic style is wonderfully textured, her compositions are elegantly balanced;
5. If you find yourself in a relationship with a snowman, you’re the one who’s running the risk of melting down: "Barmi und Klett IV Schneewehen" (Barmi and Klett IV snow pain, according to a www translator again): Die kleine Dame - the little lady -, Jochen Enterprises, 1997;
6. there aren't many stories by Anke Feuchtenberger translated into English; as far as I know there are: two stories published by Actus Tragicus from Israel: "The Crossing" (the beautifully colored image above belongs to this story; Happy End, 2002); "Old Rose: Rose's son wants to go abroad" (Dead Herring, 2004); and two W the Whore books published by Bries in Belgium: W the Whore, 2001; W the Whore Makes Her Tracks, 2006;
7. an haunting image (to me it refers to hidden desires or hidden fears, most likely) from Der Palast (the palace), Jochen Enterprises, 2000; someone should study what the twins mean in Anke Feuchtenberger's oeuvre;
8. 9. after reading (yes, seeing a comic is reading it especially if, to quote Timothy Callahan here: http://tinyurl.com/yb44kg2 , the artist used "images that mean and don't simply show.") "Somnambule2" (published in the catalog of the Mutanten exhibition: Hatje Cantz, 2000) I doubt that the moon in "Blind Schleich song," (blind creep song) loves the bunny rabbit; maybe it had no escape and this is its revenge (?): when we fly too high on the wings of imagination madness eats us up...

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Anke Feuchtenberger's Somnambule



Anke Feuchtenberger is a German graphic designer and comics artist. In a recent interview by Mark Nevins (European Comic Art, Volume 2, # 1, Liverpool University Press: 65 - 82) she talked about her influences (67, 68): "Well, I grew up in East Berlin, in a house full of art books. My father was a graphic designer, and my mother was an art teacher. So rather than children's books, I spent a lot of time looking at art books. These were strange books for a five-year-old girl, things like the posters of John Heartfield, books about Käthe Kollwitz and Rodolphe Töpffer, and collections of paintings from the Italian Renaissance. My father had a lot of catalogues from the 'Poster Biennales' in Warsaw and Finland, and I loved to look at those posters. I also really liked the work of some of the Renaissance painters, especially Matthias Gruenewald [sic] and Hieronymus Bosch. Those images filled my imagination every day. [...] One of my early very serious experiences with art came when I was 15 years old. I got up all my courage and visited a female painter I adored, and I showed her my drawings. Her name is Nuria Quevedo [http://www.galerie-berliner-graphikpresse.de/?page_id=153]. She's Spanish, and was in exile in East Germany." Anke Feuchtenberger also says, in the same interview, that she doesn't like Picasso's work. That's strange though: Nuria Quevedo's influence is easily traceable in Feuchtenberger's style, and Picasso's influence is also easily traceable in Quevedo's paintings. Quevedo did serious caricatures like, for instance, Chago Armada. I wonder if that's one of the usual features in Second World graphic artists. Maybe José Alaniz's book on Komics (comics from Russia: http://www.upress.state.ms.us/books/1199) will talk a bit about the subject. I also wonder who started doing that? My bet is Pablo Picasso, but I could be wrong (George Grosz and Saul Steinberg are other possibilities and Paul Klee and William Steig come to mind... but maybe Gus Bofa is the real name to cite here; I guess that an historical investigation is in order...). Anyway... there's a thin line between caricature and expressionism... It would be very difficult to determine which expressionist drawing is no longer expressionist, but a "serious" caricature and vice-versa... Besides, who can say for sure if William Steig's lonely ones (Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1942: http://tinyurl.com/ygcwhln ), for instance, are funny or "serious," or both?...
Talking about one of her most famous books, with Katrin de Vries (Die Hure H, Jochen Enterprises, 1996; W the Whore, Bries, 2001), Anke Feuchtenberger seems to confirm the idea that her work may be labeled "feminist" (ditto: 81): "Her name [Die Hure H] should create fantasies about danger, pleasure, sexuality, and so on. We used the character as a door which opens up wide possibilities for thinking about the female body, the history of the female body, and the opportunities for a woman in society [...]."
The "message" in "Die see jungfrau" (the young woman from the sea, according to my translation: published in Die kleine Dame - the little lady -, Jochen Enterprises, 1997), a story also written by Katrin de Vries (and inspired by Hans Christian Andersen's "Den lille havfrue," the little mermaid, published in Eventyr, fortalte for Børn, fairy tales told for children: C. A. Reitzel, 1837), focuses on the politics of the female body. Unfortunately I don't speak German, but it seems to me that the young woman from the sea refuses her identity and wants to be a normal (or should I say: standardized) woman. In order to become one she doesn't hesitate to bleed to death because she cuts her fish tail in two.
Anke Feuchtenberger's Somnambule (an almost wordless book, by the way; Jochen Enterprises, 1998) goes the other way around destroying the simplistic feminist labeling... Here we can find one of Feuchtenberger's more recognizable visual metonymies: the detached (flying) head (strangely enough this is the second time that this metonymy appears at The Crib: the first one it belonged to - with some differences nonetheless - Edmond Baudoin). In "Gewächs haus," the greenhouse (a story inspired by Katrin de Vries), a man is the victim because, even if he tries to fly away using his propeller head, he can't do it. Two women keep him captive shaping him in their way, planting him, really (hence the title).
These stories are about power and domination, about killing what one loves (it's the mystery of the vowels again: another link to Edmond Baudoin: cf. my post about him). To confirm everything that I said so far you may read/see "Blind Schleich Song," something like "blind creep song," acording to an internet translator (a story that's part of Somnambule), here: http://www.feuchtenbergerowa.de/gal.htm (a male human caterpillar tries to flee using his head propeller, but the human female bunny character doesn't let it; the caterpillar's head detaches itself from the body functioning as the moon, or a night light; in order to read this story you just have to think about the caterpillar as a stage before a metamorphosis occurs - the body turns into a butterfly - and a head detaching from the body as a sign that the latter can be imprisoned - in this case: prevented from growing up -, but our imagination can't be contained; even so, the head loves the bunny because it stays with it nonetheless).
It downs on me now that this post should have been called something like: Anke Feuchtenberger's and Katrin de Vries' beautiful stories... The latter isn't really the author of Somnambule, but she greatly influenced Anke Feuchtenberger's work during the mid to late nineties.
She also deserves to be in The Crib's canon.

Anke Feuchtenberger's site: http://www.feuchtenbergerowa.de/
Anke Feuchtenberger's and Stefano Ricci's boutique publishing house: http://www.mamiverlag.de/

Images:
Somnambule's wraparound cover cut in two halves like the see jungfrau's tail (Jochen Enterprises, 1998): our old selves are falling behind us all the time while new ones are born...

PS Feminists are, to me, the best critics of mainstream comics writing today. This happens because, being mostly male, other critics overlook misogynous messages and buy every stupid fantasy that passes for art in mainstream comics. That said I strongly endorse a visit to this particular post ("Bingo: The Callers Enclue You") in Karen Healey's blog:

Girls Read Comics and they're pissed:
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Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Pablo Picasso's Songe et Mensonge de Franco - Coda

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Images and sounds:
1. Guernica by Pablo Picasso, 1937; Guernica is a Basque town in Northern Spain that was bombed by the German Condor Legion (more than two thousand people died); according to Juan Antonio Ramírez the lamp at the center is another Surrealist "jeux de mots:" the Spanish word for "light bulb" is "bombilla" (little bomb; by August 6 and 9, 1945, in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the bombs were already the biggest, ever);
2., 3. Neoclassical comics by Picasso (1931, 1933);
4. the process was more important to Picasso than the final product; here's what he said (quoted in El "Guernica" de Picasso by Rudolf Arnheim, Gustavo Gili, 1976 [Genesis of a Painting: Picasso's Guernica, University of California Press, 1962]): 43: "A painting isn't planed in advance. While it's being done, it changes in the same way as our thoughts change."; in this film (part of Le Mystère Picasso - the Picasso mystery - by Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1956) we can see a flower bouquet transformed into a fish, the fish transformed into a chicken; and the whole with a fawn's face and human figures on top; it's a pity that this incredible innovator couldn't get rid of the single image (a western tradition since the Renaissance) juxtaposing images instead of superimposing them.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Pablo Picasso's Songe et Mensonge de Franco


If Pablo Picasso was a Spaniard, although living in France, and I blog in English, why is the phrase Songe et Mensonge de Franco written above? Because the French title is an untranslatable Surrealist "jeux de mots" (a word play between "songe" - dream - and "mensonge" - lie).

Picasso's art was a barometer of Picasso's life. He was particularly sensitive to women around him (all great art is, in a certain measure, autobiographical). The art style that corresponded to his first wife, Russian dancer Olga Koklova, was Neoclassicism. Surrealism, especially the more politicized later one, was an antidote to him when their relationship soured in the late twenties, early thirties (his work from this period is full of vagina dentatta and mantislike figures). Even if Picasso wasn't a bonafide Surrealist he participated in the exhibition Vingt-cinq peintres contemporains (twenty five contemporary painters) in 1925 and other Surrealist activities like La Révolution surrealiste (issue # 1: December, 1924) and Minotaure magazine (issue # 1: June, 1933). In 1941 he wrote a Surrealist play: Le désir attrapé par la queue (desire caught by the tail). Before that, he wrote a Surrealist text that was meant to be published with the two Songe et Mensonge de Franco etchings (these, incidentally, would be sold, on behalf of the Spanish Republic, at the International Paris Exhibition in 1937; the images should be cut and sold as postcards, but Picasso saw the narrative flow that linked them and prevented the cutting):

"Dream and Lie of Franco
fandango of shivering owls souse of swords of evil-omened polyps I scouring brush of hairs from priests' tonsures standing naked in the middle of the frying-pan placed upon the ice cream cone of codfish fried in the scabs of his lead-ox heart - his mouth full of the chinch-bug jelly of his words - sleigh bells of the plate of snails braiding guts - little finger In erection neither grape nor fig - commedia dell'arte of poor weaving and dyeing of clouds - beauty creams from the garbage wagon - rape of maids in tears and in snivels - on his shoulder the shroud stuffed with sausages and mouths - rage distorting the outline of the shadow which flogs his teeth driven in the sand and the horse open wide to the sun which reads it to the flies that stitch to the knots of the net full of anchovies the sky-rocket of lilies - torch of lice where the dog is knot of rats and hiding-place of the palace of old rags - the banners which fry in the pan writhe in the black of the ink-sauce shed in the drops of blood which shoot him - the street rises to the clouds tied by its feet to the sea of wax which rots its entrails and the veil which covers it sings and dances wild with pain - the flight of fishing rods and the alhigui alhigui of the first-class burial of the moving van - the broken wings rolling upon the spider's web of dry bread and clear water of the paella of sugar and velvet which the lash paints upon his cheeks - the light covers its eyes before the mirror which apes it and the nougat bar of the flames bites its lips at the wound - cries of children cries of women cries of birds cries of flowers cries of timbers and of stones cries of bricks cries of furniture of beds of chairs of curtains of pots of cats and of papers cries of odors which claw at one another cries of smoke pricking the shoulder of the cries which stew in the cauldron and of the rain of birds which inundates the sea which gnaws the bone and breaks its teeth biting the cotton wool which the sun mops up from the plate which the purse and the pocket hide in the print which the foot leaves in the rock"

Here's a site with images from the Spanish pavilion in Paris' 1937 World Exhibition:

General Francisco Franco led a civil war against the Spanish Republic's Popular Front. I don't have many new things to say about Songe et Mensonge de Franco's meaning, so, I'll let Juan Antonio Ramírez (and a couple of others) do most of the job for me (Guernica, Electa, 1999: 27 - 33): "As some [scholars] already said, the title alludes to Goya ["The Sleep of Reason Creates Monsters"] and the Spanish literature of the Siglo de Oro [the golden century: the 16th][...]. This gives us ground to decipher the scene as an horrendous buffoonery, a nightmare peopled by the ridiculous and pathetic monsters that the military sublevation unleashed. All the panels seem to describe the devastating effects of the Francoist "crusade" against the Spanish people. The antihero in the first etching is a deformed being, a kind of tuberculoid-worm that rides on a disemboweled horse (as they were frequently seen in those days' corridas) carrying a religious banner. [...] [H]e also carries a sword upright (the Fascist Francoist field talked about the "sword of Christianity"), from which handle hangs a rope, and wears a crown with a crescent moon (an allusion to North African Francoist Moorish troops). The horse and the sun smile sardonically [the Fascist hymn was Cara al sol - facing the sun: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQcSTGz3XyY]." The description continues, but I prefer Elisabeth Francesconi's interpretation of the second panel, here: http://smu.edu/ecenter/discourse/Francesconi.htm She says: "Picasso’s depiction of Franco walking a tightrope in the second frame resembles a specific scene in Goya’s Disasters series entitled "When Will the Rope Break" [...] giving evidence of his exposure to Goya’s works. Goya had placed a religious figure with a high status in the Church on a fraying, suspended rope. Under the leader, he added a crowd that appears to be shouting at and angry with the man on the rope." Martínez views this as Franco's crossing from Africa into Europe to attack an idealized image of Spain in the next panel; he then continues: "The monster is (fourth panel) a travesty of the traditional Spanish maja [beaut] with her peineta [back comb], mantilla [shawl] and fan with the proverbial image of the Virgen del Pilar." (Franco's huge penis in the second panel is, according to Patricia Failing - cf. link above - a "sign [...] of sexual prowess as a symbol of military might.") In the fifth and sixth panels the monster attacks a bull (another symbol of Spain) and worships money (one duro was five pesetas). In the last strip of etching one the guts of the horse are transformed into serpents; Franco tries to (according to Martínez) sexually assault a winged horse (after loosing the serpents that were eating him up from the inside the horse became Pegasus, another symbol of Spain). In the end the monster is still facing the sun, but he now rides a not so noble animal: a pig (a piggy bank: those who pay him). Did Picasso imply that the Spanish people needed to be exorcised to expel Fascism? What seems to be true is that, according to Martínez again, the Pegasus' wings (freedom, of course) grew out from the wound inflicted by the monster on the horse's flank (it's the same wound that we'll see in Guernica). The second etching repeats some of the same topics that we analyzed until now (namely the fight between the bull - the Spanish people - and the aristocratic horse - metamorphosed into a negative symbol again: with the guts, spilled out by the bull, came the now familiar symbols of Fascism: the sword, the national banner, the religious standard). The last four panels show war's real victims: the civilians. Guernica's population was just the beginning. Millions would follow... all over the world...

Images:
Picasso didn't invert his drawings and writings when he etched the plates, but here, in these images bought at the Reina Sofia Museum in Madrid, the etchings were reversed; that's why we can read Songe et Mensonge de Franco above as a western comic strip instead of an Asian or Arab one. The last four images of plate two were added a few months later (June 7), after Picasso finished Guernica (May, 1937). That's why they repeat some great details of the painting: the tongue / speer, the nostrils / tears, the nose / impotent penis, for instance.

PS To level things up (since I posted Cara al sol above), here's the great Mexican singer Lila Downs, singing El Quinto Regimiento (the fifth regiment):