Against Nature: The hybrid forms of modern sculpture

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left: Morgan Le Fay by Pierre Roche (1904).
right: The Rock Drill by Jacob Epstein (1913–14).

An exhibition of ‘fantastic’ sculpture opened at the Henry Moore Institute in Leeds last week with some fascinating juxtapositions, ranging from Fernand Khnopff’s Mask to Jacob Epstein’s marvellous Rock Drill which is more commonly one of the landmarks of the Tate Britain collection. Also on display is some work by a Romanian artist I hadn’t come across before, Dimitrie Paciurea (1873–1932), whose chimeras might seem influenced by Symbolism but which look a lot stranger than the usual Symbolist statuary.

Against Nature runs until May 4th, 2008.

Sculpture has frequently been used as a medium of metamorphosis. Its malleable materials allow fantastic forms to become real as it mixes human, animal and vegetal components. This was never more so than during the late 19th century when many sculptors turned their back on classical notions of anatomy and used sculpture as a vehicle for the imagination. This exhibition begins in the late 19th century and presents a common fascination with the world of the hybrid across the various art movements of the 20th century right up to recent years with the work of Louise Bourgeois.

Figures drawn from classical mythology—sphinxes, chimeras and centaurs—were the stock subjects of late 19th century Salon exhibitions. Meanwhile, outside the gallery, the pressures of industrialisation and of Darwin’s theory of evolution provided compelling new contexts for the hybrid. To say that sculpture was ‘against nature’ at this time is to suggest two lines of enquiry: firstly that sculpture could create impossible beings that went beyond the natural order, but which evolution could potentially deliver; secondly, that sculpture presents absurd fantasy creatures by means of realistic modelling so as to suggest their ‘real life’ existence.

Despite the various positions of each successive avant-garde movement—symbolism, futurism, vorticism, constructivism, surrealism—fantasy sculpture and anatomical reinvention run across them all. Sculptors soon moved from taking on mythological subjects to inventing their own modern monsters, drawing on the machine as much as on myth, as with Jacob Epstein’s Rock Drill (1913-14).

This exhibition introduces little known sculptors from across Europe and the Americas and places them in a freakish family tree which also includes some of the ‘iconic’ images of modern sculpture. Thus the exhibition includes works by Hans Arp, Umberto Boccioni, Max Ernst, Julio González and Germaine Richier alongside Thomas Theodor Heine and Dimitrie Paciurea. It suggests a new way of looking at the emergence of modern sculpture and at its underlying continuities c.1890s–1980s.

Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
The fantastic art archive

Previously on { feuilleton }
Bruges-la-Morte
The Cult of Antinous

Fungal observations

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Seeing as Jeff VanderMeer and his publisher have made the cover for the new edition of Shriek: An Afterword public, I may as well do the same. The design is mine, the cover painting is by comic artist Ben Templesmith. The design and its integration with the book contents are more evident when you see the complete dust jacket, and the rest of the book, of course. Since these are still being proofed I’ll probably post them after publication. Meanwhile, the book has a reduction of 25% if you order a copy now.

Limited Edition: 500 signed numbered hardcovers
Expected Publication Date: Second quarter 2008

“Like some delicious mashup of H.P. Lovecraft, Mervyn Peake, and L. Frank Baum, but with his own verbal dexterity and perverse ingenuity…An affecting narrative about love, art, sibling rivalry, commerce, history, and some really nasty ’shrooms.” The Washington Post Book World

A year’s best selection of The San Francisco Chronicle, The Austin Chronicle, and SF Site, World Fantasy Award winner Jeff VanderMeer’s Shriek: An Afterword is a triumphant return to the author’s imaginary city of Ambergris—the setting of his critically acclaimed, best-selling City of Saints & Madmen.

Shriek: An Afterword relates the scandalous, heartbreaking, and horrifying secret history of two squabbling siblings and their confidantes, protectors, and enemies. Narrated with flamboyant intensity and under increasingly urgent conditions by ex-society figure Janice Shriek, this afterword presents a vivid gallery of characters and events, emphasizing the adventures of Janice’s brother Duncan, a historian obsessed with a doomed love affair and a secret that may kill or transform him; a war between rival publishing houses that will change Ambergris forever; and the gray caps, a marginalized people armed with advanced fungal technologies who have been waiting underground for their chance to mold the future of the city.

Experience the beautifully strange novel that received a starred review in Publishers Weekly and was praised by, among others, Elizabeth Hand, Gene Wolfe, Zoran Zivkovic, Hal Duncan, and Jeffrey Ford.

Shriek: An Afterword further established Jeff VanderMeer as the finest fantasist of his generation.” The Austin Chronicle

“Five stars! A stunning and very different fantasy novel.” BBC Focus Magazine

“In the telling, Shriek: An Afterword is an exceptional novel, a tapestry of fine writing, deep psychological insight, and acute narrative excitement…. a dark fantasy of tremendous distinction.” Locus

Previously on { feuilleton }
Shriek: The Movie
New things for April II
Jeff on Bldgblog
An announcement redux
City of Saints and Madmen

The art of Sascha Schneider, 1870–1927

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I first came across Sascha Schneider’s art some years ago when reading about German writer Karl May (1842–1912), and it was as May’s illustrator that Schneider initially gained recognition. May was one of Germany’s most popular novelists, his Western adventures about Old Shatterhand and Winnetou the Warrior sold millions of copies and numbered Albert Einstein and Adolf Hitler among their enthusiasts. Schneider’s work struck me as unusual compared to other illustrators of the period; there was a curious quality which seemed to owe more to Symbolist painting than book illustration and the few examples I saw were distinctly homoerotic at a time when homosexuality was regarded with suspicion or downright hostility. Sure enough it turns out that Schneider was openly gay and that May had no problem with this. It also transpires that the Symbolist tone which seemed so unsuited to a writer of Western pulp fiction complemented the content of some of May’s later works which weren’t Westerns at all but were Orientalist fantasies with a metaphysical inclination. The publisher wasn’t too happy with the ambivalent nature of these pictures, however, and they were replaced in later editions.

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For once I don’t have to complain about a lack of website examples, Schneider’s connections with May have at least ensured his work is still being written about even if it seems overlooked by gay art histories. This latter circumstance is unusual since he was a contributor to Der Eigene, the world’s first gay periodical, founded by Adolf Brand in 1896.

I’ve taken the liberty of posting more samples than usual here and you’ll have to forgive the lack of information about titles and dates. Many of the pictures are quite bizarre for the way they’re continually juxtaposing naked figures with angels, demons or monsters. Even the Winnetou illustrations, which should be depicting Native Americans, look more suited to the wall of a salon in fin de siècle Paris than stories of the Wild West. Links to various galleries follow.

Schneider’s Karl May frontispieces
An extensive Russian gallery
A smaller Schneider gallery

Continue reading “The art of Sascha Schneider, 1870–1927”

Engelbrecht again

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I’m surfacing this week from a busy couple of months having finished (more or less) two substantial book designs. I mentioned the redesign of The Exploits of Engelbrecht a couple of weeks ago and it’s been a pleasure to have another bash at this. The original design wasn’t bad as such, especially compared to the rudimentary first edition from 1950, it’s more that the production standards were raised so much by the Savoy titles which followed that I frequently felt dissatisfied with it. You can see the new cover above and I’ll post some additional examples nearer publication (ETA for that is still vague).

Maurice Richardson’s tales of the dwarf surrealist sportsman are classics of eccentric comedy and it’s been a privilege having the opportunity to reintroduce them to a new audience. I intended the new dust jacket to be reminiscent of an old theatre or boxing poster and the brown and red design will be printed on uncoated textured paper to augment that effect. In addition to this volume I’ve also designed an edition of Jeff VanderMeer‘s Ambergris novel Shriek: An Afterword for Wyrm Publishing. Once again, I’ll post more details of that closer to release.

So now I take a deep breath and see what’s next. There’s another book project imminent but I’ve been asked not to say anything about that for the time being (don’t you love a mystery?). In spare moments such as these I’ve been trying to keep working on the collected edition of the Reverbstorm comics I created with Dave Britton for Savoy. That series has always been an important part of my work, more important in many ways than The Haunter of the Dark, and it’s frustrating to have over 250 pages of some of my best artwork sitting around virtually unseen. I was supposed to have the book finished off last year but other projects kept intervening. One of the resolutions for this year has been to at least complete the scanning and re-lettering, then we’ll see where it fits into Savoy’s schedule. Watch this space.

Yoshitaka Amano in Berlin

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Deva-loka (2007).

Big new paintings by one of my favourite Japanese artists at Galerie Michael Janssen, Berlin, until February 29, 2008. The wild details in Deva-loka are completely lost at this size but there’s a larger version on Amano’s site.

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Creation (2007).

These works are being sold as fine art but Amano’s reputation rests upon his commercial art which embraces anime, manga and book cover illustration. As is often the case, the art world has a problem with this, regarding work for hire as lower than work for galleries, the latter being no less commercial in the sense that the works are sold to collectors who frequently demand more of the same; Andy Warhol’s studio was named The Factory with good reason. A comment at Creative Europe acknowledges the dilemma:

“There are two reasons why it is necessary to bring Yoshitaka Amano’s immensely successful professional biography into the equation here: on the one hand, the work he has done as a creator of mangas and animes (animations) provides an undisputed frame of reference for his pictures; on the other, it has become difficult where Amano’s oeuvre is concerned to uphold the differentiation popular in German speaking quarters between a more commercial applied visual art and the personally expressive variety.” (My italics.)

Amano’s non-commercial work at Galerie Michael Janssen is for sale, prices on request.

Previously on { feuilleton }
The art of Takato Yamamoto