Saturday, 23 July 2011
Believe it or not, I once used to work in the field of fine arts. It was just a temp job but I used to see a lot of the inside track on art sales. Some of the prices are of course more famous than the art work or indeed the artists. Now - for the one big thing that I know that only a few thousand other people know. ( I mean- there are a lot of people in the world so a few thousands knowing something are almost like a secret). A lot of posh art in galleries and private collections is either nicked/copied/done by apprentices or simply forged. No one wants to tell you this. The world of Wheeler Dealer "one careful old lady owner full MOT immac condition" is nothing compared to fine art. You can get a manual to tell you about Mondeo camshafts and the AA will come and inspect it. Try that in the art world. There is always the likes of Brian Sewell. I just ADORE this guy. Check him out here - Last of the Medici on youtube
Anyway - today's picture is a painting wot I done me self. It should enable you to see why I'm a novelist. At the time I was trying to teach the kids about art. Well, that's my excuse.
Two matters got me onto ART issues. Well, actually it's three matters because all of this horror in Norway just made me think that you just can't rise to this sort of thing. All the outrage and horror is done by professionals. But - we do somehow create these individuals and don't see them coming do we? Somehow it's all about love and the lack of it - mainly the lack.
Last year I saw an exhibition of art here in St.Savinien. It was by a guy called Pascal Audin who had lived a terrible childhood of deprivation and imprisonment. He expressed himself in his art but sadly all photo reproduction was banned. I did buy some stuff but maybe I'm not allowed to put it up? I would love to if I could.
The other artistic matter was that of the free concerts held on the beach for holiday makers. As I mentioned yesterday, last year we went to see a performance at Royan. This series is done for French TV and is running again this year. The idea is to bring Culture to the masses. (Is that the same thing as bringing the masses to culture? - Well- NO- it is not). We guarded our plot on the sands for FIVE HOURS. People crammed in around us but with a certain lack of respect for personal space. Just as the concert commenced a couple more or less kicked one of our kids out of the way and tried to sit on top of her. Gilles went to the scene and told them to push him instead. He sat eyeball to eyeball, fists clenched, with the interloper for the whole performance. He's not a Buddhist - but I do love his pure gorilla anger. I know how desperately he wanted to break loose and settle the matter jungle style. It still burns in him. I can't explain how our anger builds into horror - but it does you know - it does. The performance ended with the overture to Tannhäuser plus fireworks. It was wonderful.
Emma thinx: Anger - it's the gift of love not given
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