the healing power of linen

As mentioned in the previous post, my most recent visit to the AGO left me a bit unsettled. A good hour after visiting the Moore and Bacon show, I was finally able to somewhat regain my composure. The need to bring back order into the chaos of my mind (Bacon can do that to anybody) was overwhelming.

Remembering Sennett's words "making is thinking", a bag of linen scraps from past projects was emptied and sorted, selecting the most adequate ones to iron and piece. This mechanical motion gradually brought a soothing sense of purpose, until it resulted into beautiful reconstructed linen swatches with a marvelous haptic and a very particular weight and drape.

overcoming moore+bacon

The AGO once more houses a fantastic exhibit, "Francis Bacon and Henry Moore: Terror and Beauty" up until July 20th. Though most of us are no strangers to the work of either artist, having them in the same room is not something to be taken lightly. If you are planning to go to the show, do so on a happy-go-lucky day, so that the optimist in you can handle it without much effort. Be sure to load up on sugary treats before you get there (spoonful of honey, an apple, chocolate) to grant the much needed sustenance during and after your visit. The show's title makes no effort in concealing the somewhat disconcerting theme to the exposition, and I confess I was deeply affected by its content, Bacon has that particular effect on me. It's been a few days since my visit, and I'm still struggling to articulate a coherent thought about it, a testament to a most emotional and exceptional subject matter.

Painting (left) by Francis Bacon, Three Figures and a Portrait, 1975. Sculpture (right) by Henry Moore. Photo by Derek Flack for blogTO.

Through the enlightening accounts found all over the galleries, the viewer is not only educated but also eased into the historical context that melds these two artists, offering further acumen through Bill Brandt's beautiful photographs.

Henry Moore by Bill Brandt, 1960.

Francis Bacon by Bill Brandt, 1963.

The exhibition is spectacular and exquisitely curated, grand in both scale and theme, a perfect exercise in contrast and comparison. The great discovery: Moore's London's shelter drawings during World War II. Extraordinarily beguiling.

Interestingly enough, Henry Moore created some beautiful designs for textiles (not included in the show), a discipline he delved into quite prolifically.
Click here to get you started on this particular aspect of his work.

Henry Moore, textile design. Barbed Wire, c.1946, spun rayon, printed by ASCHER.

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Please click here and here and here  if you would like to learn more about the show.

the grandeur of the latest wes anderson film

Warning: The words shot and grid will appear time and again, there are only so many synonyms at hand.

Confession: Friday afternoon (12:30 pm!!!) found me at the movie theatre catching Wes Anderson's latest gem, The Grand Budapest Hotel. I was feeling so guilty about the whole experience, yet all that negativity dissipated the moment the movie started. Ever since The Royal Tenenbaums I have been irremediably at his mercy. Hook, line... sinker.

As I already mentioned in a much earlier post regarding Moonrise Kingdom, with Wes (we are on a first name basis nowadays) it all starts with the styling and carries on seamlessly into the intentionality of every decision behind the shot while allowing the story to always be at the forefront. All aesthetic decisions are there to set off the scene and never to distract, admittedly, my brain gets so transfixed in a frame, that I tend to fall a little behind in the story.  Just a few minutes into account, the first bit of analysis pops up.

This particular still in one of the scenes had me processing every aspect of it, or as much as could be gathered in a few seconds.

This is what was immediately evident: The setting was harmoniously composed within a golden section (a golden ratio, sección aura in Spanish) corroborated in the juxtaposed grid of the bottom image with an almost flawless fit.

The linchpin of the composition, drum roll please... the plant! If all the emphasis of colour would have been where a is located, the whole frame would have fallen to the right. Anchoring it in position (and creating perfect symmetry) is the area where the plant is placed (b) and most certainly colour. The greens in the plant coyly complement the reds and aubergine of Mr. Moustafa's (F. Murray Abraham) attire.

Another example: The use of adjacent colours (analogous harmony--red to purple), fully saturated and perfectly contrasted by the blacks and whites.

In pure Wes Anderson fashion, the stoicism of the main characters (Madame D.--Tilda Swinton-- and M. Gustave--Ralph Fiennes) is emphasized by the almost perfect fit of another golden section grid.

Since the above reticulation was not ideal, another way to confirm harmony of composition is by fitting the picture in a grid, created by the most dominant area of the composition, in this case, Madame D.'s facial expression and outfit (the black accessories). This new sequence immediately corroborates that Wes Anderson does work within a grid and carefully plans most of his shots. The extraordinary thing within the analysis is that I'm certain this is easily verified in most every single main shot throughout the film. This element of careful configuration can easily support the whole movie all the way through the end yet, on top of this, he has a most intelligent screenplay and an impressive cast of characters working in his favour as well. A true renaissance man.

The last example and very traditional to his style is symmetry, as represented in this face shot.

In this particular instance, the character is at the centre of the foreground, and as indicated by the white line, the frame is perfectly divided by two (I read Kubrick shot this way as well).

Another interesting asset to each character, or so it seemed in the case of TGBH, is the colour scheme in their apparel, very representative of their comportment throughout the film. In this particular instance, Edward Norton's persona (Henckels) was not as animated as the rest, evident in the severeness and neutrality of his garments.

In my opinion, from Wes Anderson's body of work, this is perhaps the film in which the traditional methodology of the art/design process is most recognisable and sustained throughout the movie. Exceedingly encouraging.
If possible catch it in the big screen, it will be a much more enjoyable experience.

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NOTE: Another post is required to further discuss fabrics, carpets and patterns (mostly on wall paper), all luscious across the film. I think however, that I would need to watch the movie a second and third time to be able to eloquently comment on the topic.
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RESOURCES:

• I find the younger generations are not very familiar with the concept of the golden ratio, but it is still the bread and butter of good art/design composition (regardless of what is being designed, from the Parthenon to a web page). Click here to visit an excellently written blog post around the golden section. Easily explained and easily understood.
• For more traditional yet contemporary approaches to the theme, I highly recommend Scott Olsen's The Golden Section: Nature's Greatest Secret and Layout Essentials: 100 Design Principles for Using Grids by Beth Tondreau.
• Click here for a very quick review on colour harmonies., You may also want to check on the classics: The Elements of Color: A Treatise On The Color System (based on the color system of Johannes Itten) by Johannes Itten and Interaction Of Color by Josef Albers.

the winter of the iguana

We are under cold weather advisory tonight and this is what our winter has been like as of late:

From left to right: 1-Our drive to school during the first hour of a snow storm. 2-Our driveway after said storm. 3-A stroll down our street captured the beauty of what the storm left behind.

As the winter seems to linger on, and on, the promise of warmer, snow-free days to come have me yearning for summer, which immediately brings to mind iguanas. Why? Simply because last summer, while visiting the Yucatán peninsula, we kept stumbling upon them everywhere! From the hotel grounds, to the sidewalks to the ruins in Chichén Itzá. The reptiles were completely unaffected by our presence, showcasing a remarkable capacity to contently bask under the sun for hours on end. Then again, what else are you going to do if you happen to be an iguana?

A majestic iguana in Chichén Itzá. Photo credit, EC.

Later that summer at the Hall of Bones in the National Museum of Natural History in Washington D.C., we came across the skeleton of an iguana, which allowed a close examination.

Thereafter, I could not stop thinking about Timorous Beasties, a Glasgow design studio well known for its self-described "surreal and provocative textiles and wallpapers". The phrases original artwork and trend setters can only start to describe what this Scottish atelier's brilliant body of work is all about. After learning more about iguanas (by mere observation), it was easy to understand how and why Alistair McAuley and Paul Simmons, the creative forces behind the studio, may have been inspired to create their incredible iguana pattern.

©Timorous Beasties, Iguana.

At some point they had to follow the great tradition of excellence in the creative process (think Mondrian, think Glaser) and became one with their subject matter, in this particular instance, they became one with the iguana. This is what art and design of the highest order is all about, the artist/designer has to be knowledgeable and passionate about the project at hand, Picasso and his Guernica immediately come to mind.
In the world of textile design this happens mainly due to the extensive research and sketching/drawing that takes place during the ideation process, resulting in conceptually strong, well-informed, very successful designs. When visiting Toronto, while imparting a seminar at Harbourfront Centre (back in 2010), Alistair elaborated precisely on this particular matter and illustrated the point by showing us a plethora of drawings and rough sketches he had recently been working on in his sketchbook.
The moral of the story: Inform your work, be prolific, edit.
Now, if you will excuse me, I will proceed to follow my own advice.
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The V&A has a brief and fabulous video interview with Timorous Beasties. Click here to watch it.