Weekend links 822

tomaselli.jpg

Untitled (2013) by Fred Tomaselli.

• The latest book from A Year In The Country is Ghost Signals: The Shadowlands of British Analogue Television 1968–1995, an exploration of “a shadowland of terrestrial TV hidden in plain sight across the unmediated and unmarketed corners of the internet”.

• New music: After The Rain, Strange Seeds by The Leaf Library; Music For Intersecting Planes by Leila Bordreuil + Kali Malone.

• RIP airbrush artist Philip Castle. Steve Mepstead talked to Castle in 2011 about his work for Stanley Kubrick and others.

Strassman began to see patterns in these encounters and created a typology: aliens; guides and helpers; clowns, jokers and jesters; elves and dwarves; or reptilian or insect-like figures. Variations and outliers notwithstanding, this spectrum remains remarkably consistent with DMT studies today. Strassman also looked into the historical literature and found similar descriptions as far back as Szára, who wrote that one of his subjects reported meeting “dwarfs or something.” Forty years later and a continent away, one of Strassman’s participants put it succinctly: “That was real strange. There were a lot of elves.”

A long read by Joanna Steinhardt on the history and nature of hallucinated spirit guides and “self-transforming machine elves”

• Jet Propulsion Laboratory: Ben Cardew on the pivotal role of Stereolab’s Super-Electric.

• At Colossal: Pejac transforms basic graph paper into detailed, trompe-l’œil tableaux.

Sixty finalists from the 23rd Annual Smithsonian Magazine Photo Contest.

• At BLDGBLOG: The landscape architecture of auroras on demand.

• Mix of the week: Float V mix by DJ Food.

We Have Always Been Here (1995) by ELpH vs Coil | 5-Methoxy-N,N-Dimethyl- (5-MeO-DMT) (1998) by Time Machines/Coil | Machine Elves (2024) by Polypores

Chess players

chess10.jpg

Chess Problem 25 (13th century), from El Libro de los Juegos.

Chess-playing in art. Some of it, anyway. I hadn’t realised until I went searching for examples how many paintings there are of people playing chess. The prompt for this was my current reading, The Flanders Panel, a novel from 1990 by the Spanish author Arturo Pérez-Reverte. Arturo likes his art mysteries, as you’ll know if you’ve read The Club Dumas, an excellent novel that was reworked for cinema as The Ninth Gate. The chess game in The Flanders Panel is the subject of a painting by a fictional Flemish artist, Pieter Van Huys. Pérez-Reverte presents a biography of the artist and the three people depicted in the painting, with special attention given to the game of chess which gives the painting its title, a game which may or may not provide clues to a 15th-century murder mystery. Pérez-Reverte describes the painting itself in detail; Julia, the main character is a picture restorer so the descriptions extend to physical materials. Some of the novel’s cover designs have attempted to depict Van Huys’s picture, with unsuccessful results. There’s also a 1994 film adaptation, Uncovered, which I haven’t yet seen.

chess06.jpg

The Chess Player (no date) by Isidor Kaufmann.

I’ll admit to not having thought very much about chess-playing in art until the conversation in the novel turned to the subject of the painted game, and the question of whether or not the position of the pieces had anything to say about the people in the picture. (Pérez-Reverte helpfully includes a diagram that shows the layout of the board.) There’s no reason why a game of chess shouldn’t be used for semiotic reasons even if this is only to indicate the power relationship within a picture by making one party the dominant player. Given the ease with which this can be done I’d guess there are many such examples that use the game to communicate something about the players beyond the fact that they enjoy playing chess. If you’re painting a chess game you’re always going to be faced with the question of how you position the pieces, a problem that leads in turn to decisions about who should be shown to be winning or losing via the number of pieces and their placement on the board. Western art is replete with pictorial symbolism involving animals, plants, birds, colours, and so on; if the very old and very familiar game of chess is added to the symbolic repertoire then we’re left to decide which paintings are using the game for incidental reasons, and which have something more to communicate.

chess09.jpg

An Interesting Problem (no date) by Adolphe-Alexandre Lesrel.

In making a picture selection I’ve looked for paintings that clearly show the position of the pieces on the board, as well as those which depict the game with some accuracy. It becomes apparent when you examine many paintings on this subject that some artists don’t seem too familiar with the details of the game, a common error being the mispositioned board. This could also have a symbolic meaning, of course, but I’ll leave that question for others to explore. As a final note, Marcel Duchamp had a thing for chess.

chess05.jpg

Ein schwieriger Zug Öl auf Holz (no date) by Albert Joseph Franke.

chess11.jpg

Die Schachspieler (Faust und Mephisto) (1834) by Moritz Retzsch.

Continue reading “Chess players”

Weekend links 816

rossignol.jpg

The Creative Power of the Spirit, No. 31 of A Goodly Company series, 1920–1933 by Ethel le Rossignol.

• “One moment it was a little blip. The next, our friends are dying”: the gay porn soundtrack composers lost to the Aids crisis. More gay porn: Pink Narcissus, James Bidgood’s micro-budget homoerotic fantasy, will receive a UK blu-ray release later this year.

• Old music: Thirst by Clock DVA gets a very welcome reissue later this year, having been unavailable in any form since 1992. I’m not so happy about the changes to Neville Brody’s original cover design but the album itself is a major post-punk statement.

• “Graphic design was thought to be a man’s discipline,” she says. “So I think it was quite a surprise for people to find me there.” A profile of Margaret Calvert, designer of (among other things) Britain’s road signs.

• At Colossal: A major survey in Paris chronicles Leonora Carrington’s esoteric Surrealism.

• At Public Domain Review: Sara Weiss’ Journeys to the Planet Mars (1903).

• At the BFI: The mystery music video for The Beatles’ Penny Lane.

Winners and entrants for Close-up Photographer of the Year 7.

• “Cats to blame for octopus deity enshrinement delay.”

• Steven Heller’s font of the month is Cattivo.

• At Dennis Cooper’s it’s Jack Arnold’s Day.

Pink Noir (1996) by David Toop | Pink Dust (2013) by Sqürl | The Pink Room 2 (2024) by Seigen Ono

The Performers: Goya

goya1.jpg

It’s good to find another arts documentary by Leslie Megahey turning up online. Not the best quality, unfortunately; the audio has been subjected to so much digital compression it sounds like it was run through a ring modulator but the visuals are decent enough. The Performers was originally made in 1972 for the BBC’s Omnibus arts strand. It was repeated in 1994 for the same series, with the name “Goya” appended to the title, the life and art of Francisco de Goya being the subject of the film. I remember watching the repeat screening but can’t remember why it was rebroadcast. Films like this usually remained stuck in the BBC’s vaults unless there was a good reason to show them again, as with Megahey’s portrait of György Ligeti which had the director revisiting the composer 15 years after their first meeting.

goya2.jpg

The Performers is less ambitious than Megahey’s later films, the majority of which had art or artists as their subject. The performers of the title are a pair of travelling players in modern Spain who adopt a series of roles in outdoor performances that parallel the stages of Goya’s career, from modestly successful muralist to very successful court portrait painter, and the later years when deafness left him isolated and depressed. The latter period resulted in the famous “Disasters of War” etchings and the so-called “Black Paintings” which were originally murals on the walls of the artist’s home.

The credits are missing from the end of the film but Leslie Megahey was the narrator as well as the director, with Colin Blakely reading from Goya’s diaries, and the performers played by Esperanza Malkin and Vallentin Conde. For a more personal take on the life and art of Francisco de Goya I recommend Robert Hughes’ 75-minute TV film from 2002.

Previously on { feuilleton }
All Clouds are Clocks: György Ligeti
Leslie Megahey, 1944–2022
Men and Wild Horses: Théodore Géricault
The Complete Citizen Kane
Schalcken the Painter revisited
Leslie Megahey’s Bluebeard

Weekend links 813

bruenchenhein.jpg

Dwellers of the Sea (1962) by Eugene Von Bruenchenhein.

• Among the new titles at Standard Ebooks, the home of free, high-quality, public-domain texts: Conan Stories by Robert E. Howard.

• At Colossal: “Uncanny personalities appear from nature in Malene Hartmann Rasmussen’s ceramics.”

• New music: Glory Black by Sunn O))); Through Lands Of Ghosts by Foster Neville; Sirenoscape by NIMF.

If we insist that art functions as a tool for promoting a limited set of political principles, what happens when an ideology that doesn’t share our values sweeps into power? Learning to engage with complexity is a necessary skill if we are ever to drag ourselves out of the puerile swamp of the culture wars. But if we continue to reduce art to moralistic soundbites, we will only succeed in stripping it of its capacity to transform us, which would be a huge loss. Art can help us to better understand ourselves, and the world we live in, by expressing those things that words cannot. It exposes us to a vast range of experiences, and asks us to sit with the fundamental ambivalences, moral complexities and conflicting emotions that are a part and parcel of being human.

Rosanna McLaughlin on attempts to make art of the past reflect the moral platitudes of the present

Strange Attractor is having a winter sale with 30% off all its available titles.

• At the BFI: Miriam Balanescu selects 10 great filmmaker biopics.

• Mix of the week: DreamScenes – January 2026 at Ambientblog.

• The Strange World of…Free Jazz & Improvised Music.

Free (1991) by Mazzy Star | The Free Design (1999) by Stereolab | Everything Is Free (2001) by Gillian Welch