Malczewski: Death as a Woman

Polish Symbolist Jacek Malczewski (1854-1929) was one of that nation's finest painters. I think he should rank high on a worldwide measure because his works combine a high level of skill with the capacity to fascinate the viewer.

Perhaps unfortunately, Malczewski is best known for including himself in many paintings, often in costumes such as a suit of armor. These self-references have more to say than "Hi! It's me!" if the viewer can get past the artist's image and consider the rest of the painting. I might someday post a gallery of this phase of his work, but for now I thought I should deal with Malczewski's treatment of the symbolism of death.

In Western culture, death is often personified as the Grim Reaper, a hooded skeleton carrying a scythe. The Greeks personified death as a man, though not necessarily an old or dead one; his name was Thanatos.

Malczewski appropriated the name Thanatos as well as the scythe for some of his death paintings. But instead of a man, he depicted death as a beautiful, sometimes kindly woman.

Here are some of Malczewski's death-paintings:

Gallery

Smierc (Death) - 1902
Here Death gently closes the eyes of the man. It strikes me that Malczewski left Death slightly incomplete; note the lack of surface detail on her face in the general area of the nose.

Thanatos I - 1898
This is perhaps the best-known Malczewski Thanatos. His anatomical depiction skill can be seen on the treatment of light falling on the shoulder, chest and hip. Click on the image for a better view (if your system allows it).

Thanatos - 1898-99
Another Thanatos from about the same time. A more dramatic scene, but not as visually interesting as the painting above. Click on the image for a larger view (if your system allows it).

Thanatos - 1911
A reprise of the 1902 Death painting.

Self-Portrait with Thanatos
Some of Malczewski's self-portraits included charaters from other paintings. Here he's joined by Thanatos. Click on the image for a larger view (if your system allows it).

Zmartwychwstanie (Resurrection) - 1920
Later in his career Malczewski moved beyond Smierc and Thanatos to provide an up-beat note, as the title of this painting indicates. Click on the image for a larger view (if your system allows it).

Molti Ritratti: Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova, born Anna Andreyevna Gorenko (1889-1966) was a Russian poet who failed to flee the country following the Bolshevik takeover and suffered for that mistake. The sorry details are summarized in the Wikipedia entry here.

Anna's appearance was -- how shall I say it -- distinctive, her face dominated by a beak of a nose. According to Wikipedia, this did not prevent her from accumulating a small host of admirers including the likes of Boris Pasternak the writer and Amedeo Modigliani the painter. Little doubt that intelligence, charm and a tall, willowy figure compensated for appearance defects.

Moreover, Anna was portrayed, as can be seen below. I wanted to include a Modigliani depiction, but failed to find anything that is known for sure to have been Anna. Whereas some of his paintings of nudes incorporated tall, slender figures, those paintings omitted the Akhmatova nose. Might Amedeo have discretely camouflaged his subject? Given that Anna was newly married at the time, perhaps he did.

Please set me straight in Comments if my conjecture is off the track.

Gallery

Photo of Anna Akhmatova

A more flattering photo

Drawing, unknown artist
The Internet has this image flipped both ways. I have no clue whether the original had Anna facing to our left or our right. For what it's worth, Wikipedia has her facing to the left. Not that this really matters....

By Nikolai Tyrsa

By Olga Della Vos Kardovskaya - 1914

By Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin - 1922

By Yiri Annenkov - 1924

By M. Sarian - 1946

By Nathan Altman - 1914
This is the best-known portrait of Anna -- the merest whiff of Cubism to catch the spirit of her angular features.

Spitfire Bests Hurricane, Hunter Bests Swift

Life has its ups and downs. This was even the case in the aircraft industry back in the days when that industry had a lot of firms (as opposed to the comparative handful operating today). In some cases government ministries would try to balance contract awards amongst companies so as to keep a reasonable number in business should a war erupt and large production of aircraft be required.

In other cases fortunes of aircraft manufacturers rose and fell according to the quality of the airplanes they designed. That was to some degree the case for fighter plane builders Hawker and Supermarine in England.

By the mid-1930s, fighter production was dominated by Hawker with its Fury which competed mostly with Gloster with its Gladiator, Bristol with its Bulldog, and to a lesser degree Fairey and Blackburn. Supermarine formerly specialized in flying boats and high-speed racing floatplanes, but now was entering fighter design competitions.

In 1936 production was ordered for the Royal Air Force's first "modern" fighters -- the Hawker Hurricane and the Supermarine Spitfire -- the latter based on the racing-craft knowledge gained by designer Reginald Mitchell who died the following year of cancer, age 42.

Mitchell was succeeded by Joe Smith who presided over as series of modifications that kept the Spitfire competitive and in production throughout World War 2. He also led Supermarine's jet age design teams that created several production fighters, including the Supermarine Swift of the 1950s.

The Hurricane's designer was Sydney Camm whose teams produced outstanding aircraft over a period of decades, including the Hawker Hunter jet fighter that was developed about the same time as the Swift.

I'm not an aeronautical engineer, so I can't offer a professional assessment of the three men. From what I read, the consensus is that Mitchell and Camm rank among the "great" designers and Smith does not.

Given this background, how did the Hurricane, Spitfire, Swift and Hunter stack up? In brief, Supermarine won the first round, Hawker the second. Let's take a look:

Hawker Hurricane Is, 111 Squadron - late 1930s
The Hurricane was "modern" in that it had the following features that characterized fighters designs that emerged in advanced industrial countries starting in the mid-1930s: It was a monoplane (as opposed to biplane or triplane styles of the Great War), its landing gear retracted, the cockpit was fully enclosed, and its construction was largely of metal. In the case of the latter feature, the Hurricane lagged its equivalents in that the part of the fuselage aft of the cockpit was fabric-covered and not aluminum-skinned. This might have been because in some respects the Hurricane was a monoplane evolutionary step beyond the Hawker Fury biplane which also had its fuselage clad in metal to the front and fabric to the rear.

The Hurricane had a thick wing (compared to the Spitfire), was chunkier and had other features that resulted in lower top speed and inferior maneuverability. It was also inferior to opposing German fighters such as the Messerschmitt Bf 109E and the later Focke-Wulf FW 190. Hurricanes represented the majority of the RAF's fighter strength during the Battle of Britain in the late summer of 1940, but the somewhat sad experience of British and Belgian Hurricanes against the Germans in the Battle of France in the late spring of that year resulted in the RAF opting to send Hurricanes against attacking bombers rather than the escort fighters -- where possible, Spitfires were to attend to the Messerschmitts. Hurricane production ended in 1944 (Spitfire variants were built as late as 1948), being succeeded by Typhoon and Tempest fighter-bombers.

Speaking of being slightly behind the times, note the formation shown in the photo above. The six Hurricanes are in V ("vic" in RAF-speak) formations of three aircraft each. This formation was intended for interceptors, the three fighters attacking a similar formation of bombers. It proved inferior in fighter-to-fighter combat, so the British and American eventually adopted the German schwarm or "finger-four" formation comprised of two two-plane elements, each with a lead plane and a protective "wing-man."

Early Supermarine Spitfire I
The Spitfire was Britain's outstanding World War 2 fighter. Thanks to its wing design, it was both fast and maneuverable. Rolls-Royce kept it competitive by providing ever more powerful motors. Joe Smith eventually replaced the original wing with one that reduced the plane's potential maximum speed (the new wing had a greater thicknes-chord ratio) but allowed additional armament.

The main defect of the Spitfire was that it was designed as an interceptor tasked with defending geographically-small England from bomber attack and therefore it traded range for limited fuel-weight. The result was that the Spitfire could not accompany bombers on missions to targets as distant as Germany; that role fell to the American P-51 Mustang.

Supermarine Swift F.1, (or possibly an F.2), 56 Squadron - 1954
Whereas the Spitfire glows in glory, the Swift was an expensive failure. Like the Hunter, it was ordered into "superpriority" production once the Korean War started. But it only briefly served in fighter service. Years later, a version was moderately successful in the reconnaissance role.

The Swift's nearly endless teething problems centered around handling characteristics and difficulties introduced by one of its engine manufacturers. Its portly shape stemmed from the original intent to power it with a chubby centrifugal-flow Nene engine. But the Nene was bypassed in favor of the slimmer axial-flow Avon; the fuselage bulk then became a useful place for extra fuel tanks.

Hawker Hunter in Swiss service: 25th anniversary commemoration paint-job
The Hunter had its initial problems too, the worst being engine-surge and flame-outs when the 30-mm Aden cannon were fired. Once teething was taken care of, the Hunter proved to be an excellent fighter; nearly 2,000 were built and it served in many air forces besides the RAF

Thus were the tables turned, Hawker emerging from second-fiddle to First Violin and Supermarine becoming an aviation footnote.

In the Beginning: Juan Gris

Juan Gris (1887-1927), born José Victoriano González-Pérez in Madrid, moved to Paris in 1906 where he made his mark as a Cubist painter before his death at age 40. His Wikipedia entry is here and a similar reference on a site containing many images of his work is here.

His training was at Madrid's Escuela de Artes y Manufacturas when he was in his mid-teens and then studied for a while under José Maria Carbonero, an academic-oriented artist.

To help support himself, he did commercial illustration at a very competent level. His draftsmanship was good, as was his craftsmanship. These traits are also found in his cubist paintings, most of which are carefully composed and painted still-lifes that often featured musical instruments. Even his Cubist portraits -- which tend to echo portraits by Picasso made during his Cubist phase -- seem more organized and disciplined than what Picasso did.

Aside from one commercial piece, early, non-cubist works by Gris are hard to locate on the Web (I found some illustrations of popular dances, but they were undated).

Below are examples of Gris' Cubist and representational work.

Gallery

Flattery - 1908

Marcelle la Brune - lithograph - 1921

Portrait of Pablo Picasso - 1912

Pierrot with Guitar - 1925

A still life featuring musical instruments and related items

You can click on some images to get larger and sometimes sharper results if your computer and browser permit.


I find it sad that so many good artists never lived to age 40 and were unable to demonstrate further evolution. Gris, who lived less than two months beyond his 40th birthday, also presents the question of unfulfilled potential. For example, what would have been his reaction to Surrealism or Abstract Expressionism? Might he have eventually abandoned modernism?

Gris strikes me as being a highly competent artist who probably could have worked in any genre. But I doubt that he could have abandoned his craftsman-like approach to art.

The Best Spaceship Artist Ever?

The Wikipedia entry for John Berkey (1932-2008) is way too brief so far as I'm concerned. That's because he painted imaginary spaceship scenes that were astonishing when they first appeared on covers of science fiction paperbacks and continued to astonish in the years thereafter.

You need to understand the context. Pre-Berkey, sci-fi spaceships were usually depicted as (1) Buck Rogers style open-cockpit jobs, (2) Flash Gordon spindle-like craft, (3) variations on the German V-2 rocket of World War 2, (4) extrapolations of Apollo-era spacecraft or (5) combinations of these with some other details added.

Berkey introduced to the genre huge spacecraft that often combined delicate equipment detail with large, smooth, reflective surfaces. His style was basically loose, yet when reduced to book cover size, gave the impression of monster machines.

As for Berkey himself, he was a Minnesotan who from age 15 was determined to become an illustrator. His training was on-the-job at commercial art studios. In 1955 he hit the big time, being hired by Brown and Bigelow, the large St. Paul calendar company. From then to 1963 he produced around 500 illustrations for the company. After that he went freelance, continuing calendar work while moving into magazine and book cover illustration -- his long-term goal. By the early 1990s he had done about 200 book covers, most in the science fiction field.

Looking at reproductions of his work, an observer might guess that Berkey worked in oil. Not so. Most of his paintings were done in casein or a combination of casein and acrylic; occasionally he used tempera.

I used to paint in casein when doing commercial art projects in college and never came remotely close to what Berkey was able to do with it; creating smooth (non-water blotched) areas was something I found difficult and illustration board curling when the paint dried was another annoyance. Clearly Berkey's work in commercial art studios allowed him to get lots of useful tips from professional artists regarding casein-handling and other needed skills.

As for the combined casein-acrylic work, my guess is that he used acrylics to block in large areas, reserving casein for the details. If I'm wrong, please let me know.

Below are examples of Berkey's science fiction art.

Gallery

Untitled - tempera - 1971

Ships

Suspended Moment - casein - 1990

Battle of the Spiral Star - casein - 1977

Intrusion, an Unpleasant Visitor - casein and acrylic - 1990

Lines Through the Horizon - casein - 1977

If your browser allows it, click on the images for larger (and sometimes clearer) views.

Disappearing Car Marque Books

I suppose it's yet another generational thing.

Up until maybe five or ten years ago I used to see quite a few books dealing with automobile brands on bookstore shelves. Now, not very many.

I bought a lot of those histories of brands (Ford) and models (Mustang). Of course, once I'd gotten a pretty good grip regarding a subject, I'd have little need for another book. After a number of years I found that I was buying few car books. Most of my recent purchases were made while traveling in Europe and had to do with English, French and German brands.

This business about the trend toward fewer car history titles (shop manuals and similar books excluded) came to my attention over the last few months. In November I stopped by the Blackhawk museum in Danville, California and noticed that there were hardly any books on the shelves of its store. Instead I saw mostly model cars of different sizes and prices. A few weeks ago I was in the shop of the "National Automobile Museum" in Reno, Nevada (I added quote-marks because I find the name pretentious). Car books had all but disappeared. New car books, that is; what they had was lots of used books and magazines.

The conclusion that makes most sense to me is that younger people aren't as car-nutty, on average, as previous generations. When I was a kid, getting a car was a huge deal. Perhaps nowadays the Huge Deal is having an iPad.

Any thoughts and commiserations are appreciated by this confused, blind-sided blogger.

In the Beginning: Picasso

When it comes to fame, Pablo Picasso (1881-1973) strikes me as being right up there with Rembrandt in the minds of the general public. No other modernist artist comes close except, perhaps (in the USA, anyway), that other master of self-advertisement, Andy Warhol.

From what I've read, the young Picasso impressed other artists with his existing and potential talent even before he helped invent Cubism. I make no secret of my dislike for nearly all of Picasso's work, but I'm willing to explore the work he did when young as grist for speculation regarding his ability and whether or not he could have carved out a career as a representational painter.

For background and information about his early paintings, I consulted the first volume of John Richardson's uncompleted multi-volume biography of the artist.

Picasso's father was an artist and art teacher whose work Richardson considered inferior. Still, one can assume that Picasso could not have failed to absorb many nuts and bolts of the craft of oil painting by the time he entered his teens and began attempting serious work. While in his teens he received some formal training but did not go through the complete rigorous academic regimen still in place in the 1890s. He was done with schooling before he turned 19.

Now let's look at a sample of his paintings that basically can be considered representational in style; I've ordered them by year. Keep in mind that Picasso was born in late October of 1881 and do some subtracting from the painting dates to get an idea as to his age at the time.

Gallery

The Old Fisherman (Salmerón) - 1895

First Communion - 1896
Click on image for a larger, clearer view.

Altar Boy - 1896
Click on image for a larger, slightly clearer view. I saw this at the museum at Montserrat, a few miles west of Barcelona. It struck me as being smoothly painted, an attribute this reproduction fails to show.

Ciencia y Caridad (Science and Charity) - 1897
This was painted as a salon entry.

Moulin de la Galette - 1900
Painted the year Picasso first visited Paris.

Mujer en azul - 1901
Richardson suggests this painting reflects the influence of Goya.

Self-portrait (Yo Picasso) - 1901
The drawing is representational, the technique is "painterly" and the colors seem early Fauvist, even though Picasso wasn't identified with that movement. Richardson also notes (Page 417) that Picasso was never strongly interested in color -- a Spanish thing, it seems.

Woman in Mantilla (La Salchichona) - 1917
Here Picasso experiments: a smoothly-painted face contrasted with pointillist technique.

Portrait of Olga - 1917
Click on image for a larger, clearer view.

Olga Picasso - 1923
Here he was as representational as he ever got in the years following Cubism. Even so, this portrait and the one above simplify to the point where a bit too much crispness (from a reality standpoint) creeps in. This tack was taken by many artists in the 1920s and 30s wanting to introduce a whiff of modernism to their paintings. Click on image for a larger, clearer view.

Did Picasso have the Right Stuff to succeed in representational art?

I think he did, though I have trouble evaluating the ability displayed in the earliest, most representational, works. Richardson does not consider Picasso's mid-teens efforts outstanding, though he fails to offer a yardstick for this opinion.

My problem here is that I don't hang out around art schools of any kind, let alone those inhabited by 15-year-olds; I have no idea how good a painter that age might be.

The yardstick I do have is myself. At ages 15-20 I did not paint nearly as well as did Picasso, nor do I recall any fellow student who did. On the other hand, our training was close to non-existent. As best I remember, high school art classes basically were sessions where we fiddled around drawing or maybe using water-based media and the teacher's role was that of a gentle critic. College was more of the same, except that we got less than a bare minimum of instruction and also began working in oils.

It's too bad we can't invoke a parallel universe where Picasso studies at the Académie Julian under, say, William-Adolphe Bouguereau or perhaps elsewhere under Jean-Léon Gerôme or Carolus-Durand. If so, the kid coulda had a future.