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Showing posts from March, 2009

RODCHENKO AND POPOVA – DEFINING CONSTRUCTIVISM by Phillip Worth

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Tatlin - Monument to the Third International Constructivism We can derive stimulus and pleasure from visual art in a multitude of forms and styles, although personal subjective taste will of course determine what is the strongest “turn on” for any individual. Landscape, still life, city scenes, portraiture, life studies, to mention but a very few approaches, all have their addicts, but I would, for the purpose of this review, like to make a special plea for hard edged, geometric abstraction. There is something profoundly satisfying about the purity of geometric forms – straight lines, curves, circles, ovals, squares, triangles and whatnot strike a chord in many, if not all of us, and this satisfaction is intensified if the forms are the context for vibrant, dynamically juxtaposed pure colour. Many movements in modern art have sought expression in this way, e.g. de Stijl, Cubism, Futurism, Orphism – one could multiply the “-isms”. But not least among these schools of expression were the

DANCE MACABRE 2009 by Owen Legg

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DANCE MACABRE 2009 At last, after ten months of printing I have finished my book about the Danse Macabre. There were of course twelve months before that of preparation, getting the linocuts prepared and proofed. But the printing of hose linocuts and the text took considerable effort. Today, a week later, the first four copies have gone to the binder, Mike Fitzgerald, of Cox Heath. The book consists of a 15th Century French poem with a modern English translation by Giles de la Bedoyere. At the top of each page is a copy of the 16TH century mural which adorns a church in Brittany while at the bottom of the page footballers dance with skeletons. There are two full page illustrations of a player competing with a skeleton. The whole poem is a reminder of the shortness of life and the vanity of riches. This is why I have contrasted the ethos of commercial football with the certainty of death. Giles is a poet who comes from Tunbridge Wells and by coincidence has an ancestral connection with t

Foyle’s Gallery February 9 – 22 2009 by Phillip Worth

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Penelope Mac Ewan has already given a lively account of the Private View and the exciting impression created by our varied and colourful exhibition, as witness the good attendance in spite of bleak weather conditions! She has also commented on some of the outstanding pieces on show, so it may not be inappropriate to extend her review and consider a few of the other exhibits. The selection must of course be random, as space will not allow us to include everything. “Lion” by Grace Kimble A delicate little watercolour which could persuade us that “small is beautiful”. The appeal of this picture lies in its subtle blending of the dormant power of the lioness and the calm dignity with which she gazes into the distance (or at a herd of wildebeest?) She seems almost unaware of the little cub sporting itself on her back, but this study also breathes an air of relaxed motherhood. Nicely conceived and nicely drawn. “Scorched” by Andy Fullalove Mention was made, in the Lauderdale review, o

Foyles Show by Penelope Mac Ewan

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Free Painters and Sculptors Society Private View: (9th February, 2008 6.30-8.30 3rd Floor Foyles Gallery, London.) The cold wind bit into my hands and face. Londoners jumped over puddles and dodged umbrellas. I looked with silent envy at their boots, my own court shoes having long since become drenched and freezing. Why was our private view on such a night I wondered? Surely no one would be there! The rain lashed hard against the cars that passed, soaking unlucky pedestrians with their wash. With relief I sighted the ‘Foyles’ sign, certain that at least soon I would be out of the cold. With grim resolve I took the lift to the third floor, believing I would meet a silent reception. But nothing could have been more the antithesis of my expectation! The room positively exploded with life. Colour radiated from the walls. People chatted in groups, women wore pretty dresses, apparently undaunted or unaware of the foul weather outside. Glasses clinked; music played and while no one seemed rea