marnie

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le troisième œil

iconographie de pendentifs,
simone rondelet, ciondolare, 2012,

megalodon

marcel broodthaers

Dal 26 gennaio al 6 maggio 2012 il MAMbo - Museo d’Arte Moderna di Bologna è lieto di presentare Marcel Broodthaers. L’espace de l’écriture, la prima retrospettiva completa in Italia dedicata all’artista belga, a cura di Gloria Moure.
Marcel Broodthaers è una delle figure più rivoluzionarie ed influenti nell’arte del Novecento, ancora oggi imprescindibile per comprendere lo sviluppo delle ricerche artistiche e teoriche degli ultimi decenni. La sua critica costruttiva e ironica verso il sistema dell’arte come specifico sistema ideologico e il ruolo politico dell’artista nella società ha posto questioni sempre più centrali nel dibattito critico internazionale, rivelando l’attualità stringente delle sue sperimentazioni tese ad esplorare e ridefinire il significato della creazione artistica.
La mostra con cui il MAMbo rende omaggio al genio di Marcel Broodthaers valorizza nella sua complessità e nella sua estensione un percorso artistico sviluppatosi nel corso di una straordinaria carriera durata soli 12 anni dal 1964 al 1976. L’espace de l’écriture introduce per la prima volta al pubblico italiano un’ampia selezione di circa cinquanta lavori provenienti da prestigiosi istituzioni internazionali, tra cui l’Hamburger Bahnhof Museum di Berlino, lo SMAK di Gand e il MACBA Museo di Arte Contemporanea di Barcellona, che documentano i temi principali della poetica dell’artista: il rapporto tra arte e linguaggio, lo status dell’opera d’arte, la critica del museo come dispositivo e idea.
Il progetto curatoriale dell’esposizione intende verificare come la relazione tra immagine, oggetto e parola costituisca il tema centrale e costante della ricerca di Marcel Broodthaers e ne abbia fortemente condizionato tutto il processo creativo.

L’Atalante

The reputation of French filmmaker Jean Vigo is built on the slightest of canons, with the young director making just four films – only one feature-length – and dying aged 29 from rheumatoid septicaemia contracted during filming. L’Atalante (1934), the film that emerged, was mutilated and rendered unrecognisable by paranoid producers, and closed within two weeks of release, presumably to sink without trace. However, decades later, Vigo is hailed as a visionary and pivotal member of the cinematic avant-garde, and L’Atalante ranks highly on innumerable “best film” lists, with homage paid in the works of Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard and the Nouvelle Vague movement as a whole. Now, at last returned to the form its director intended, L’Atalante is showing at the BFI Southbank, bidding to feature on Sight and Sound’s “Greatest Films of All Time” poll for 2012.

"Bridging the gap between 1920s surrealism and 1930s poetic realism, L’Atalante has a delicate simplicity rarely seen in modern cinema"

Bridging the gap between 1920s surrealism and 1930s poetic realism, L’Atalante has a delicate simplicity rarely seen in modern cinema. Set on a grubby barge traversing the canals of Northern France, it stars Jean Dasté and Dita Parlo as Jean and Juliette – a sea captain and his new wife – who, innocent, inexperienced and barely knowing each other, are embarking tentatively on their married life, accompanied by drunken barge-hand Père Jules, a cabin boy and innumerable cats. As the boat chuggs along the Seine, Vigo tracks the clumsiness, the ecstasies, the anxieties and tenderness of a very human love affair, without once having recourse to high flown rhetoric or melodrama. Instead, the awkward pleasures of a wedding night, Juliette’s irritation at being cooped up, Jean’s jealous rages, the lovers’ separation and eventual rapprochement are all captured with a masterful lightness of touch, rendered against the claustrophobia of the barge, the bright lights of Paris and the quizzical gaze of le Père Jules, who, with a belly full of wine and a kitten on his shoulder, works to reunite the couple in the end.
This is a film about the most prosaic of subjects, yet one that sings with the poetry of human truth, playing on tiny details that speak volumes more than the most grandiose dialogue. Jean and Juliette are a lowly pair, country folk bowled over by their desperate love for each other, and this desperation is shown in petty squabbles, stubbornness and impotent rages rather than verbose speeches. When his young wife runs off to see Paris, Jean calls her bluff and sets sail for Le Havre, leaving her to fend for herself. Rage cooled, their mutual agonies of separation are exquisitely portrayed: in a dreamlike underwater scene, a miserable Jean sees his wife’s figure swirling before his eyes, and, in a sequence of breathless eroticism, Vigo runs parallel shots of Jean and Juliette each dreaming of the other in their separate beds. This provincial pair are raised to the sublime by the purity of their feelings and actions, irrespective of their modest surroundings. At the end when, reunited, they fall to the floor in a joyous clumsy embrace, it is a timeless reminder that the picturesque Hollywood ending is not as romantic as a truthful, heartfelt depiction of what people really do.
L’Atalante is at the BFI Southbank until March 1 2012, and at selected cinemas nationwide until March 16.
(reading Tish Wrigley at anothermag.com)

con gli spilli (euphorbia lathyris)