tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post6519351474081382703..comments2024-02-09T23:01:58.528+00:00Comments on The Invisible Province: Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the CameraUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post-78422765943699928612010-06-13T09:10:23.897+01:002010-06-13T09:10:23.897+01:00What response did the Henry Moore provoke in you? ...What response did the Henry Moore provoke in you? and did you manage to see the hideous (non provoking any emotion of any kind,other than cold) Francis Bacon and sublime exhibits?magsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post-59475303030942004202010-06-08T16:17:49.282+01:002010-06-08T16:17:49.282+01:00Law in action on radio 4 right now 4.00-4.30(today...Law in action on radio 4 right now 4.00-4.30(today the 8th June) covers themes around the 'Exposed Exhibit' well worth listening to especially the Tate'rs!magsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post-69798424306526915432010-06-05T23:25:24.873+01:002010-06-05T23:25:24.873+01:00Yes they were mostly all wreathed in sadness and p...Yes they were mostly all wreathed in sadness and pain, which was why I so loved the lovers in their own world in a small cafe. The expressions captured on their faces are just so beautifully intensly in awe of each other, and of course both so completely oblivious to the camera.<br /><br />I sure do win the culture vulture prize because after Henry Moore I popped upstairs to the Francis Bacon + rugs (which I HATED!) and then next door to the awesome 'Sublime' exhibition with paintings and scenes from Genesis. And the romantics and their poetry and paintings. I truly could have slept in this hall all night long it was a feast on my eyes and pure stuff of fairytales, but alas the boatman called and we headed back home down the Thames. <br /><br />Enjoy H Moore and why not the rest of Tate Britain too. You may win 2nd prize!magsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post-45338479100616247322010-06-05T20:02:54.802+01:002010-06-05T20:02:54.802+01:00Your comments are great. Two major exhibitions in ...Your comments are great. Two major exhibitions in one day - you win the culture vulture award for this weekend. Yes, Exposed is challenging but I was impressed that it did not indulge in cheap shock tactics. So, many of the works seemed to be wreathed in sadness...or maybe that was just the response they provoked in me. Now, I'm off to the Henry Moore...Fr Martin Bolandhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12435449968609118810noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post-75002116448128722882010-06-04T21:54:34.065+01:002010-06-04T21:54:34.065+01:00Today I did the Exposed exhibition at the Tate Mod...Today I did the Exposed exhibition at the Tate Modern and the Henry Moore exhibition at the Tate Britain, with a glorious sunshiny boat trip transporting me gently from one space to the next. What a brilliant combo of two extremes. <br /><br />The first exhibition was hard, it begged me to be a spectator, forced me to look in on my subjects as an outsider, made me be judge and jury of victim, or exhibitionist and artist. Not to mention my shockingly obsessed fixation with the other paying spectators. What were the men looking at? What were the women looking at? Who was enjoying it? Who was violated by it? I took my time chewing it all over, and at times hunted for the mouth wash so I could disguise the bad taste left in my mouth (especially by room no 9)<br /><br />I stared and stared and stared at one photograph, I couldn’t quite make out the reflection of the crowd in the water, which the small plaque on the wall was telling me was definitely there. And then suddenly I could, just above the lifeless drowned body floating beyond the grasp of the vain attempt of the waist deep rescuer. <br /><br />Being a hopeless romantic I fell in Love with the Lovers in a small café in 1932. In the women lost in thought section.<br /><br />Kohei Yoshiyuki’s series of photography titled ‘The Park’ reminded me of a book I once read by choice. ‘The sexual life of Catherine M’ by Catherine Millet was recommended to me for its literary elegance and frank and unusual female portrayal of a life of sexuality. It is set in the voyeuristic realms of the Bois de Boulogne in Paris. Like the Michel Houellebecq books it comes with a graphicness that at the same time as being uncomfortable, one wants to endure and eventually conquer. These books display the lives of those who are desperately detached from the Love that I believe God intended for His children. It appears that literature and not only the camera lens can bring out the voyeuristic side of human nature. <br /><br />This exhibition was a test of endurance at times, to which reluctantly once or twice I bailed out, not because I wanted to (I didn’t want to be beaten) but because my guest was younger and I didn’t want to leave her outside for the full length of the films.<br /> <br />However room 8 made me wonder about the beauty of the naked human form, they are all so different from one to another, and yet so similar in their beauty and fragile vulnerability. Just like life a dual between Love and hurt, living and survival.<br /><br />The Henry Moore exhibition was both disappointing and fulfilling. The hellish crayon sketches of the coal mines and underground shelters had I thought, a strange warmth to them, maybe by the sheer sense of claustrophobia and/or community. The smaller pieces of wood and stone sculpture I didn’t personally care for.<br /><br />But the beautiful huge polished wood figures begged me to have skin to skin contact with them. I wanted to stroke and touch and feel them and lay naked on them, and like so many of Moore sculptures be nurtured like a child who has the right to be tactile with its mother. <br />I fell in Love with a newborn suckling on a breast and at the sight of it I longed to still be a nursing mother. The huge female reclining figures invite you to stretch your arms through every rounded opening, from one side of the sculpture to the other, to walk from front to back to end to side, to dance and intertwine with the contours and form of the body<br /><br />But in the end I was as disappointed as a child, because all around were signs screaming DO NOT TOUCH.magsnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-769237935430750989.post-61235512371506954512010-06-03T01:08:44.890+01:002010-06-03T01:08:44.890+01:00This is pure human nature versus art.
I have no...This is pure human nature versus art. <br /><br />I have not seen this exhibition and even though I am off to London’s Tate on Friday I dont think I will go. I remember going to a Warhol exhibition at Tate modern about 2001 ish. That too was very voyeuristic. I remember the scale and the colour of the pop art to be all so vibrant and mild and cheerful on the senses and then the oppressiveness of turning the corner into a much darker room with black and white photography and a black and white film ticking away of death and car crashes and darkness. <br /><br />The throat closes and one has the feeling of needing to escape such uncomfortable and violent and uninvited images like an unwelcome imposter to the soul. But not before ones eyes have a gut wrenching image strong enough to make leaving a better option than staying to complete the 'I did the Warhol experience'.<br /><br />The camera is suddenly turned, us and our sinister curiosity and not the film maker or the photographer, become the cruellest of voyeurs.<br /><br />Maybe ill go after all!magsnoreply@blogger.com