Posts Tagged ‘war’

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DER KRIEG by OTTO DIX…

08/05/2011

art about war…

by MARK HENSHAW 

Otto Dix was born in 1891 in Untermhaus, Thuringia, the son of an ironworker. He initially trained in Gera and at the Dresden School of Arts and Crafts as a painter of wall decorations and later taught himself how to paint on canvas. He volunteered as a machine-gunner during World War I and in the autumn of 1915 he was sent to the Western Front. He was at the Somme during the major allied offensive of 1916.

After the war he studied at the academies of Dresden and Dusseldorf. Together with George Grosz, he was one of the leading exponents of the artistic movement Die Neue Sachlichkeit [New Objectivity], a form of social realist art which unsentimentally examined the decadence and underlying social inequality of post-war German society. With the rise of the National Socialists in 1933, Dix was dismissed from his teaching post at the Dresden Academy. He moved south to Lake Constance and was only allowed to continue practising as an artist after he agreed to relinquish overtly political subject matter in favour of landscape painting. Dix was conscripted into the army during World War II and in 1945 was captured and put into a prisoner of war camp. He returned to Dresden after the war where his paintings became more religiously reflective of his war-time experiences. He died in 1969.

Der Krieg [War] 1924 arose out of Dix’s own experiences of the horrors of war. As outlined above, he had volunteered for service in the army and fought as a machine-gunner on the Western Front. He was wounded a number of times, once almost fatally. War profoundly affected him as an individual and as an artist, and he took every opportunity, both during his active service and afterwards, to document his experiences. These experiences would become the subject matter of many of his later paintings and are central to the Der Krieg cycle.

Der Krieg itself, as a cycle of prints (51 in total), is consciously modelled on Goya’s [1746–1828] equally famous and equally devastating Los Desastres de la Guerra [The disasters of war]. Los Desastres detailed Goya’s own account of the horrors of the Napoleonic invasion and the Spanish War of Independence from 1808 to 1814. Goya’s cycle of 82 etchings, which he worked on for a decade after the Spanish War of Independence were not, however, published until 1863, long after his death.

Like Los Desastres, Der Krieg uses a variety of etching techniques and does so with an equally astonishing facility. Similarly, it exploits the cumulative possibilities of a long sequence of images and mirrors Goya’s unflinching, stark realism in terms of its fundamental presentation. GH Hamilton describes Dix’s cycle as ‘perhaps the most powerful as well as the most unpleasant anti-war statements in modern art… It was truly this quality of unmitigated truth, truth to the most commonplace and vulgar experiences, as well as the ugly realities of psychological experience, that gave his work a strength and consistency attained by no other contemporary artist, not even by [George] Grosz…’  It has become a commonplace to see this cycle as an admonition against the barbarity of war. And there is no doubt that as a human document it is a powerful cautionary work. At a psychological level, however, its truth goes deeper than this. Dix was both horrified and fascinated by the experience of war.

In 1963, explaining why he volunteered for the army in the First World War he had this to say:

I had to experience how someone beside me suddenly falls over and is dead and the bullet has hit him squarely. I had to experience that quite directly. I wanted it. I’m therefore not a pacifist at all – or am I? Perhaps I was an inquisitive person. I had to see all that myself. I’m such a realist, you know, that I have to see everything with my own eyes in order to confirm that it’s like that. I have to experience all the ghastly, bottomless depths of life for myself…

In the same interview, he also had this to say:

As a young man you don’t notice at all that you were, after all, badly affected. For years afterwards, at least ten years, I kept getting these dreams, in which I had to crawl through ruined houses, along passages I could hardly get through…

This nightmarish, hallucinatory quality pervades all of the Der Krieg images. Paradoxically, there is also a quality of sensuousness, an almost perverse delight in the rendering of horrific detail, which indicates that there was perhaps, in Dix’s case, an almost addictive quality to the hyper-sensory input of war. In terms of the general corpus of Dix’s work, Der Krieg occupies a central place amongst the large number of paintings and works-on-paper devoted to the theme of war. The work is astonishingly powerful and, as stated above, it remains one of the most powerful indictments of war ever conceived. It is universally regarded as one of the great masterpieces of twentieth century. Dix’s oeuvre as a whole, and Der Krieg in particular, was hugely influential on a number of other twentieth century artist such as Ben Shahn, Pablo Picasso and Robert Motherwell.

The etchings were printed by Kupferdruckerei O. Felsing in Charlottenburg on BSB Maschinen Butten and Kupferdruck paper under Dix’s supervision. The portfolio was published by Karl Nierendorf, Berlin, as five separate folios each of 10 prints in an edition of 70 in 1924. The edition the National Gallery of Australia has acquired is numbered 58/70. The portfolio also includes the impression of Soldat und Nonne [Soldier and nun], depicting the rape of a nun by a soldier, which was suppressed in the published version of the suite.

Otto Dix is one of the greatest artists of the first half of the 20th century and his visual legacy, including his Der Krieg cycle, with its still relevant contemporary echoes, is one of the most powerful documents of man’s inhumanity to man that we have available to us today. Its acquisition represents a major coup for the Gallery having been on the Department of International Prints desiderata list for years.

(NATIONAL GALLERY OF AUSTRALIA)

examples of Der Krieg can be see on display through 12.31.11 @ The NY Public Library, NYC

all images Collection of the National Gallery of Australia, The Poynton Bequest 2003 © Otto Dix, Licensed by VISCOPY, Australia

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THE WHITNEY BROTHERS…

04/21/2011

ART IN CINEMA part 4: wartime revolutions…

by DR. WILLIAM MORITZ

When war broke out in Europe in September 1939, 17-year-old James Whitney was in England studying painting, while his 22-year-old brother John Whitney was in Paris studying new music with Rene Leibowitz.

They came back to their hometown, Los Angeles, which turned out to be a lively intellectual center at the time due to the influx of European refugees, ranging from Man Ray to Arnold Schoenberg (Leibowitz’s teacher). Picasso’s Guernica was on display at the Stendhal Gallery, and a few weeks later Oskar Fischinger had a show of his abstract paintings and a screening of one of his films there.

The Whitney brothers were excited by the technical brilliance of Fischinger’s films, but somewhat disturbed by his use of symphonic music, which seemed old-fashioned to them. John constructed an animation stand and other equipment in the apartment they shared in Pasadena. James designed geometric shapes on small index cards and created positive and negative stencils that could be painted or air-brushed onto the cards. They intended these modular elements to function like tones in Schoenberg’s musical theories, and submitted them to musical permutations (such as inversions, counterpoints, chord clustering and retrogressions).

John worked on inventing a mechanism to create sound, while James continued to make visual Variations, through hundreds of hours of hand animation. This work culminated in the 1942 Variations on a Circle, a film that achieves a truly musical beauty, ranging from dynamic flickers of contrasting colors to sinuous movements cutting through circular shapes.

The brothers never actually collaborated on a given film. In fact they hardly saw each other, since John worked a night shift in an aircraft factory, and James worked a day shift at the California Institute of Technology drawing fine details of machine parts that were being invented there — work he was assigned to do as a conscientious objector to the war.

By 1942, John had developed a system of pendulums that could be carefully calibrated to swing at a certain frequency. Attached to the top, a variable slit exposed the precise vibration equivalent directly onto the soundtrack area of a film strip, thus creating music directly without instruments. This pioneer electronic music could produce pure tones, gliding chromatic glissandos and reverberating pulsations unknown to ordinary musical instruments.

John also constructed an optical printer and an animation stand that allowed them to film the pure direct light shining through openings in stencils rather than the reflected light from drawings. John made two films with this system, Film Exercise No. 1 and Film Exercise No. 5, while James made Film Exercise No. 2 and 3 and the masterpiece Film Exercise No. 4, which during eight minutes develops not only a powerful visual sonata of violent fluctuations, glaring neon colors and cool nocturnal blues, but also a haunting musical composition that reflects the terrors of war.

James took the Film Exercises to New York, where they were screened at the Guggenheim Museum. But during the screening the Baroness Hilla von Rebay screamed for the sound to be turned off, assuming that the projector was simply malfunctioning. Despite this setback, the Film Exercises went on to receive the prize for best sound a few years later at the Brussels Experimental Film Festival.

At the end of the war, James was devastated to discover that at his Cal Tech job he had been drawing plans related to the atomic bomb project. He withdrew from filmmaking for several years while he came to terms with his feelings of guilt and responsibility.

(ABSOLUT PANUSHKA  1997)

for more ART IN CINEMA see part 1part 2 and part 3

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DON KIRSHNER’S ROCK CONCERT…

11/09/2010

the weekly broadcast (’73-’82) that brought rock and roll to television…

from WIKIPEDIA

“Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert” is a television music variety show that ran during the 1970s and early 1980s, created and produced by Don Kirshner and syndicated to television stations. Kirshner had been executive producer and creative consultant on ABC’s “In Concert” series which debuted with two shows in November and December 1972 in the 11:30 p.m. time slot usually held by The Dick Cavett Show. The programs, taped at the Hofstra Playhouse at Hofstra University in Hempstead, N.Y. Their rating more than doubled the average rating of The Cavett Show and even topped NBC’s The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson in some markets.

“In Concert” became a bi-weekly series in January 1973. “Right now, we have more artists than we know what to do with,” Kirshner’s music director Wally Gold told the Washington Post late in 1972. “We pay them scale to appear, which is way below what they usually get for a concert, but they know that the publicity is well worth it. So everyone wants to be on. We’re getting hundreds of calls. At first, we had to beg the artists to appear. Now they’re begging us.” In September 1973, Kirshner left In Concert — he received producing credits for three more shows—to launch his own syndicated “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.” The premier, on September 27, 1973, featured The Rolling Stones, taped in London, in their first appearance on American TV in more than four years. The show was hosted by Kirshner up till the last season. His on-air delivery was described as flat by viewers; Paul Shaffer would often lampoon him in a convincing impersonation on Saturday Night Live. In its final season, the show was hosted by Kirshner’s son and daughter. The show was noted for featuring musical acts performing live, which was unique since most television appearances during the era showed performers lip-synching to prerecorded music.

(WIKIPEDIA)

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“RESTREPO”

06/25/2010

one of the best documentaries you’ll ever see…

by ROB NELSON

Trailing a platoon of U.S. Army soldiers in Afghanistan, “Restrepo” is a nerve-jangling work of “you are there” combat correspondence. It’s also being pitched as the first apolitical war documentary of the post–9/11 era. Named for the platoon’s fallen medic, and for the outpost that the soldiers erect in his memory, Restrepo adopts the grunt’s p.o.v. through battle and boredom alike, eliciting sympathy for young American men fighting — and sometimes dying — half a world away from home.

If that tack sounds, well, political, the filmmakers — Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington, veteran war correspondents who repeatedly risked their own lives for the movie — would much prefer to call it something else.

“Left-wing people — and I include myself among those people — tend to have this idea that war is the expression of some kind of modern ill, of civilization gone wrong,” says Junger by phone from Houston, where he’s promoting his book WAR, the film’s companion piece. “But the politically incorrect truth is that war is extremely ingrained in us — in our evolution as humans — and we’re hardwired for it. I think our movie communicates that in some ways.”

It’s no wonder that Restrepo, which opens this week, is being distributed by National Geographic. The film plays like a documentary study of the human animal in his natural state — war being how homo sapiens display the survival-of-the-fittest principle that’s also central to other species.

“The most important thing for us was to make an honest film,” says Hetherington from his Brooklyn apartment. “After many years of war reporting, we’d both gotten to the point of wanting to see people in war not as symbols or illustrations but as people. Often, war reporters gloss over things. Sebastian talks about that in his book, about how reporters try to deny the excitement of war, when the fact is that war is exciting. We thought, ‘Let’s just show what’s going on out there and not editorialize.’ ”

Restrepo eschews voice-over narration and keeps intertitles to a minimum, but it’s not exactly cinema vérité. When the soldiers fly by helicopter into the Korengal Valley — known among grunts as the “Valley of Death” — there’s Afghani music on the sound track. (Welcome to hell, boys.) When the survivors of the platoon finally leave the Korengal, some 15 months later, to recuperate in Italy, they’re interviewed by the filmmakers, whose point-blank shooting catches the men’s every twitch and hollow stare.

Restrepo alternates between the traumatic and the posttraumatic, so we’re reassured throughout that at least some of the soldiers will survive. Nevertheless, the film imparts a stressful experience, in part for our having gotten to know — and quite possibly like — the men. Gentle, baby-faced Pemble grew up the son of a “fuckin’ hippie” who once took his squirt gun away. Cortez reports with a curious smile that sleeping pills don’t help his insomnia or his nightmares. After a firefight with the Taliban, a bulky shooter named Steiner says, “That was fun. You can’t get a better high. It’s like crack.”

Junger, whose dozen years of death-defying journalism in Afghanistan have made him no stranger to adrenaline, says that an even stronger narcotic for Steiner and his platoon buddies is the buzz of social inclusion. “For a 19-year-old to feel necessary as part of a small group of men, to have a completely clear identity and a reciprocal duty to those around him, that’s intoxicating: ‘I’m one of the two 40-gunners on weapons squad, and my job is to shoot.’ When a young guy builds his identity around that, and then comes home, where he’s just another 19-year-old, why would some part of him not want to go back into combat? That’s where he was functioning at his highest level, where he had the clearest understanding of who he was.”

Do the filmmakers feel similarly actualized when they’re on the battlefield? ”You can put me in a really difficult situation, and I will make good images for you,” says Hetherington, a photojournalist who “got into the business of conflict” in 1999, when he was sent to cover the civil war in Liberia, and has mostly remained in the theater of operations ever since. “It’s a weird skill set that I’ve mastered,” he says. “I make images under pressure.”

“My first war was Bosnia,” recalls Junger. “I was a failing freelance writer and waiter. I was 31 and felt like I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted to prove myself in some ways. War is often seen as a rite of passage by young men. There was that appeal. When I got to Bosnia, the work was completely intoxicating. It’s very intense to be covering combat, and I definitely feed off that intensity.

“In Bosnia, I was beside myself. I couldn’t believe that I was in this role of communicating to the rest of the world something of great urgency that was going on around me. It’s important work, and I’m stunned and delighted that I’m good at it. It’s nourishing to me.”

Like the band of brothers they filmed, Junger and Hetherington had mixed feelings when their own tour of duty finally came to an end: “After being elbow-deep in editing for most of a year, it was exhilarating to finish the movie,” Junger reports. “But at the same time, there was an incredible sense of loss.”

(LA WEEKLY  6.24.10)

find the entire review here

“RESTREPO” 2010 directed by Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington

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