Rosie Coward

Throughout this project I had environmental considerations and mental health in mind.

My whole project revolves around ‘Escapism’, in particular in the form of music. The pandemic has had a huge knock-on effect to everyone’s mental health and although this isn’t the immediate focus of my project I think that it is a motivation for the work that I’ve produced.

Shephard Fairey’s ‘We The People’ campaign presents members of the public representing marginalised groups within society to “capture the shared humanity of our diverse America.”

I think that as an artist Fairey feels a responsibility to tackle this subject matter in order to call for social change in attitudes towards ethnic minorities. His much replicated, stencil-like style focuses on the subjects and messages due to its striking simplicity. Additionally, that the bold blocks are commanding and eye-catching, whereas other art styles could be distracting.

The use of the same colour palette as the American flag emphasises the point that ethnic minorities are still part of American society and should be treated as equals. Using the flag itself as the Muslim woman's hijab in the central image further highlights this, and her gaze locks eyes with the viewer, causing the poster to become a personal confrontation and a challenge of personal prejudice. I think patriotic Republicans will respond to these colours and it's an intelligent use of visual language to reach an audience and resonate with people.

In my opinion, is a subtle and tasteful attack on Trump’s morals, without directly vilifying the president. Instead of reducing to his level, this poster offers a positive strategy to “disrupt the rising tide of hate and fear in America”. 

Buwert,P. (2017). Shepard Fairey’s inauguration posters may define political art in Trump era. Available: https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/shepard-fairey-s-inauguration-posters-may-define-political-art-in-trump-era-a7536721.html. Last accessed 2nd Feb 2021.

The painting 'Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird' created in 1940, just after a divorce, by the iconic Frida Kahlo has a small scale but is brimming with symbolism personal to the artist. Realism is left behind in favour of a composition full of metaphors In Mexican culture, the hummingbird is colourful and seen hovering above flowers, generally a positive symbol used to represent good luck. However, here the bird is black and lifeless, with a black cat ready to pounce onto it. This motif could potentially be reflecting Kahlo herself and the suffering that she has endured having spent years bedridden after a fatal accident when she was eighteen. The more visible suffering is portrayed in the necklace of thorns around her neck held by a black monkey, causing her to bleed. Especially aligned with her divorce at the time, this is particularly poignant to show her physical and emotional turmoil. The colour palette is vibrant, but her dress is white, potentially suggesting martyrdom or vulnerability. Her gaze is stark and deadpan as if patiently fighting against the pain. The butterflies are thought to be symbols of 'Kahlo's own personal resurrection'. Although contemporary values and media have in my opinion given different genres of artwork less significance in todays society (for example history painting may not be held in such high esteem due to the advent of photography) I think that portraiture is still relevant today, as it captures symbols and underlying meaning that would be difficult to produce in a photograph. 

Dorling, S. (2021). 20 Beautiful Self Portraits by Famous Artists. Available: https://thepopularlist.com/beautiful-self-portraits-by-famous-artists/. Last accessed 2nd Feb 2021.

'Torso in Metal' from 'The Rock Drill', created 1913-15 by Sir Jacob Epstein plays with the philosophical concept of conflict and the merging of man and machine. Although the original structure is huge and imposing, this de-construction lends a totally new narrative and tone. There is a pathos in the downtrodden tilt of its head, and what was once threatening now appears to have become the victim of consequence. Despite having no facial expression its stance is very expressive, and what was once warrior-like is now a feeble slave to the condition that it’s trapped in.

With the original gun base removed, the bronze which once enforced the unnerving presence of the original towering structure now only emphasises the lack of power that remains. The dark aesthetic of the metal emits an eeriness, but also a sadness from the creature. Additionally, the high tensile strength in the extended limb is an echo of the physical greatness that once was. 

Beneath its ribcage it appears to be carrying a child. This could be perceived as threatening as it infers that it’s capable of generating its own army, but in its current state it appears almost nurturing, as if the attacker has now learnt to become a protector. This evolution makes me wonder if the façade is purely armour for something more sentient underneath.

The Guerilla girls formed in New York City in 1985 and are well-known for exposing discrimination and corruption, particularly dealing with issues of gender and racial inequality. The nude featured in this piece is 'La Grande Odalisque' by Jean-Auguste Dominique Ingres as a monochrome cut-out with her head replaced with their trademark gorilla mask. I think that the use of appropriation of renowned historical artworks successfully incites shock and attracts the needed attention to highlight their poignant message.

The yellow background could be viewed as a 'gender-neutral' colour, however, the cloth that the woman reclines on is a stereotypically feminine pink hue. This colour palette works well because it's eye-catching and juxtaposes the traditional painting. I think that the gorilla mask is very effective because it's instantly recognisable as their work and plays with the concept of women having to conform to society's shape of beauty. The typography is simple and clear to read as to not detract from the appalling statistics.

The group's identities are concealed because issues matter more than individual identities, in order to focus on the issues, not on their personalities or their own work.

McQueen is renowned for challenging masculine tropes and the Fall 2018 single-breasted suit worn by Timothée Chalamet at the UK premiere of 'Beautiful Boy' delivers sophistication and a subtle but perfectly executed destruction of social norms.

The suit has a conventionally cut masculine silhouette, so it's still recognisable as a garment of classic menswear, but the slimmer fit lends a more contemporary feel. Most notably is the traditionally feminine, romantic illustrative pattern, accented with daring red flowers.  The bold tones of red and pink confront the orthodox colour palette for menswear and the black background helps the red flowers to bloom. The large scale of the graphic, hand-printed petals makes it impossible not to notice this statement. 

I think that this challenges the stigma around A-listed men having to stick to society's expectation of the unadorned black tux. In this new era of masculinity, accepting emotional vulnerability, male feminism, and gender-fluid fashion, the traditional hyper-masculine movie star is no longer the only acceptable option.

Allaire, C. (2018). How Timothée Chalamet Pulled Off the Tricky Floral Suit. Available: https://www.vogue.com/article/timothee-chalamet-beautiful-boy-premiere-alexander-mcqueen-floral-suit. Last accessed 31st Jan 2021.

Using artworks by Surrealist artists René Magritte, Dorothea Tanning and Salvador Dalí, I’m going to broadly look at the movement and compare their approach to tackling subject matter that most artists fear to tread. They have a similar style in the way that some of their work has illusionistic quality to it, and as well as working in the Surrealist movement they also worked with abstraction. 

Surrealism was a revolt against formalist art that started in Paris in 1924 and ended in 1966. Experimenting with pure psychic automation, the surrealists aimed to revolutionise the human experience, rejecting a rational vision of life in favour of one that asserted the value of the unconscious and dreams. Essentially, the word ‘surrealist’ suggests ‘beyond reality’.

Dorothea Tanning's self-portrait 'Birthday' (1942) may appear tame for a surrealist painting, especially in comparison to her wild, nightmarish depictions of sinister sunflowers and twisted fairy-tales. However, I think that despite its more minimalistic façade there is a lot of underlying meaning to interpret, and it becomes more surreal the more that you study it.

Tanning is shown standing with her weight in her toes, tipping forwards as if ready to flee. Unlike most self-portraits, this is strangely unrevealing of her true personality, like she’s a character in her own story, the way that she used to invent make-believe worlds for herself to delve into when she was a child. The paint has a luminescent quality, lending to the dream-like narrative woven evocatively into it.

The turbulent, difficult to decipher perspective of the composition leads the eye to the background, behind and beyond her, into the overlapping multitude of doors, perhaps representing an invitation into the complex state of her psyche. Tanning's gaze is slightly off-centre, like she’s looking at someone or something behind us, and the way that she clutches the doorknob is almost like she's inviting them into the corridor, for her to follow after them into this portal of limitless possibility. This quickly snowballs and leaves the viewer in wonder, yearning to join and discover whatever location that it leads to.

Her idiosyncratic Jacobean-style garments make me wonder whether she has come from the unknown land beyond the doors and returned to bring someone back with her. Fantasy art often draws upon natural materials like plants to clothe their characters, so Tanning could be referencing this in the vine-like tendrils coiling off from the sides of her dress.

Although Tanning rejected being labelled a feminist, it is difficult not to see her work in this light. Sexual motifs of fetishized female body parts recur in Tanning’s work, and clothing makes no attempt to cover her chest in this portrait. Additionally, she was key in challenging preconceptions and defining her individual Surrealist style at a time where the critics commonly perceived women artists to have a passive role.

The fantastical bat-like creature has a peculiar timidity and sits beside her bare feet. Instead of appearing demonic, its small scale and stance make it appear vulnerable and creates a sort of pathos in the viewer. I think that it could be a mythological personification of the dark side of her tumultuous mind, and the fragility that perhaps isn't always visible.

Although it was painted around her birthday, the title’s intention was to suggest rebirth from the real into the surreal.

Unlike Tanning’s paintings, which some suggest frequently carry an erotic undertone, despite the title, René Magritte’s ‘The Lovers II’ (1928) is the opposite. This is a companion piece to ‘The Lovers I’ (also 1928) which depicted a man and woman posing for a photograph with white hoods covering their heads, a shocking juxtaposition of the peaceful backdrop of the countryside. However, the latter piece has a darker tone and is much more intimate, exploring the complex theme of ‘surrealist love’.

Supposedly the same couple are yet again the protagonists of this offbeat narrative, still with opaque hoods over their heads, but this time there is an added intimacy of the fact that they appear to be kissing inside a private space. As a viewer, it seems like we've stumbled into a personal moment that we shouldn’t have, but now that we’ve arrived in this room the piece is so transfixing, we can’t leave.

The application of paint is more romantic than some of his other more flatly painted works. There is a realism in Magritte's use of tone, and the chiaroscuro, murky colour palette and dark ambiance lends to the shrouded mystery of it. The enigma is further deepened by the ambiguity of the abstract background; we are given no clues to their backstory. The idiosyncratic contrast of the muted blue and deep, passionate red painted walls perhaps suggests the complexity of their relationship.

Furthermore, their concealed faces mean that they have no perceivable identity, so Magritte calls into question not only individual experience but a collective, universal human narrative. They are archetypes of people, perhaps representing an emotional barrier between everyone, no matter how intimate the relationship. Potentially it is not that they cannot understand each other, but that an onlooker could never truly comprehend the meaning of the connection between strangers. 

The fact that the pair seem to be oblivious to their veils leads me to further believe that it isn’t physical fabric at all, but a manifestation of their emotional state. Although the stance of the man is more dominant, the fact that the fabric is wrapped around his neck makes it feel like he's being strangled by his situation. Additionally, Magritte's compositional decision to include the ceiling adds a sense of claustrophobia.

This painting has now become an iconic image in the time of coronavirus, and surreal as our everyday life is now, it has spawned many imitations, including a masked kiss on a Vogue cover.

 After an era of irreverent and explicit anti-Catholicism, in 1951 Salvador Dalí painted ‘Christ of Saint John of the Cross’. Some have claimed that it is ‘kitsch, shallow, and obvious’, however, others believe that it is the best painting ever produced.

In a “cosmic dream” on ecstasy, Dalí saw that the “nucleus of the atom” was in fact Christ himself. He found this confirmed by a drawing by St John of the Cross, which inspired this painting. The stark, black backdrop of nothingness further illuminates the figure of Jesus.

I think that in this image Dalí is strongly playing with the concept of life after death. Underneath the cross is a lake with two people and a boat, offset by a strikingly expressive sky. A theory that I have is that it's potentially an allusion to the ferryman taking people to the underworld in classic mythology. This can be backed up by his exceptional use of foreshortening - referencing the way that a priest holds out a crucifix for people to kiss when they're on their deathbed - and Dalí's personal interest in mythology.

The lack of details such as sweat and nails takes the suffering out of the image and emphasises the religious belief that the Son of God sacrificed himself because he wanted to, not because he had to.

 All three of these thought-provoking surrealist paintings lead the observer into an unpredictable narrative, and their use of colour, composition and paint application make the unbelievable contents believable, strongly influencing the viewer’s response to the work. Their compelling nature makes it feel as though these paintings are just the surface of a much wider story, an analysis of human psychology: the intense and ungraspable sense of fear and love, driven by the power of the subconscious. Tanning, Magritte and Dalí have all let strangers into their own dreams and nightmares, giving us the rare insight to be a witness to the manifestations of their own internal universe and lending brief escapism from our own.

In conclusion, through trying to understand themselves through Surrealism, perhaps they have handed humanity the key to unlock our own true nature, and why this movement is so treasured is simply because as humans we love to dream.

  Bibliography

Piper, D (2004). The Illustrated History of Art. 5th ed. London: Bounty Books. p422.

Unknown. (2020). SURREALISM. Available: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/s/surrealism. Last accessed 26th Jan 2021.

Feigel, L. (2019). Dangerous appetites: the weird, wild world of Dorothea Tanning. Available: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/feb/08/dangerous-appetites-the-weird-wild-world-of-artist-dorothea-tanning. Last accessed 26th Jan 2021.

Unknown. (2020). Dorothea Tanning Artworks. Available: https://www.theartstory.org/artist/tanning-dorothea/artworks/. Last accessed 28th Jan 2021.

Gilles, N (2000). Dali. Germany: Taschen. p74-75.

Bazan, C. (2017). The Surrealist Love and Bizarre Romance of Rene Magritte. Available: https://musartboutique.com/surrealist-love-rene-magritte/. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.

Unknown. (2020). The Lovers II, 1928 by Rene Magritte. Available: https://www.renemagritte.org/the-lovers-2.jsp. Last accessed 29th Jan 2021.

https://africa.si.edu/exhibits/shonibare/odette.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLmS3ruy5LA

In Yinka Shonibare's simple but effective performance art piece 'Odile and Odette', based on Tchaikovsky's classic ballet 'Swan Lake', he plays with re-representation of the black body and cultural difference. Drawing on the conventionally Western negative connotation of 'white as good' and 'black as bad' (a chromatic opposite which is used in the ballet as costume colours to define Odile from the evil Odette) a white and black dancer perform as each other's perfect mirror. I think that the use of identical tutus made with vibrant fabric forces the viewer to acknowledge and pay attention to the difference in their complexion and his message.

Throughout, it is totally ambiguous which woman is portraying which character. In many adaptations of the ballet, Odile and Odette are played by the same dancer, but the synchronicity between the pair in this film almost makes them merge to become one person as it progresses.

I think this could be making a political statement about equality, but also perhaps how under-represented black and ethnic minority groups are more than qualified and capable to take on traditionally white-orientated roles in ballet, blindingly highlighted by the indistinguishable nature of their dancing. Ironically, although commissioned by London Royal Opera and Ballet only one ballerina was drawn from the Royal Ballet (the white dancer) and an independent dancer had to be sourced by the company because it did not have a black ballerina in its corps.

One thing that I noticed was the limited set design, stripped back to the very bare minimum of a Baroque frame, representing an imaginary mirror between the pair. Additionally, it’s devoid of music so that every time the block in their shoes touches the ground, and even their breathing, is eerily loud. This is slightly uncomfortable, maybe referencing the more easily ignored subject matter.

Snow is compact, malleable, and great for sculpting, but it’s also temporary, because, as we all know, apply heat and it turns back to water.

‘Snowballs In Summer’ by Andy Goldsworthy is a typically transient example of land art. If Goldsworthy had simply painted or sculpted the snowballs it would have none of the effect of it being in the public domain, melting under the light of the sun; it creates a sense of immediacy in its impermanence. To me, the fact that once it's gone, there is no trace but a photographic record shows the significance in individual moments and memory.

Containing materials collected in the Scottish countryside, the self-destructive way that it melts reveals the hidden treasures inside. Chalk, pebbles, Scottish pinecones, and Highland cow hair to name a few natural objects buried under the surface, a subtle message is there: reminding city dwellers of the beauty of the countryside and nature.

Out in the daylight on the 21st of June, the longest day of the year (and therefore the most time spent over the sun and the highest rate of disappearance)  it makes its presence ironic and even more out of context. In an art gallery a few offbeat, bemusing pieces are welcomed, but unavoidably obstructing a footpath is on a whole new level in terms of making a statement, because it’s totally unexpected.

The ambiguously titled ‘Cold Dark Matter: An Exploded View’ by Cornelia Parker is a compelling abstract installation. A re-assemblage of a shed blown up by the army, the violent event that it has been subjected to transcends it into a mesmerising and wholly unique piece of art. 

The way that the sculpture is suspended is what elevates it from an objective artwork to a fully immersive experience. Solely lit from a single lightbulb at the eye of the undulating artform, the shadows sweeping across the walls are an extension of the piece itself. If the debris was limply scattered across the floor it would have felt lifeless and dull, but the way in which it appears to be a transitory moment, forever paused, it’s exploding with life and wonder.

In my opinion sheds are strangely enigmatic places, a limbo of sorts, filled with mundane tools that surface annually and objects dusted with sentimental value but nothing precious enough to keep inside the home. It’s a chaotic void, like the installation itself. I think that this medium is very effective on many levels, firstly the way that wood splinters, and certain contents stayed almost intact, frozen in time. I think that the inexplicitly representative form allows an open interpretation for the viewer to individually respond, and personally, despite the sharp edges that could be capable of causing bodily harm, I love the energy of them – I think that the fact its roots are in such a standard domestic construction makes the transformation into something with so much dynamism and vitality even more intense.

In my opinion, the Singh Twins are two of the most poignant contemporary artists in the world, echoing the world around them in a unique yet accessible fusion of cultures and time periods. ‘NHS V COVID-19: Fighting On Two Fronts’ is tackling ethical and political subject matter in a way that, like so much of their work, is deeply satirical. The humour juxtaposes the severity of their message, disguising the hidden significance of motifs and symbolism from a distance.

I think that they use the offbeat combination of egg tempera and digital art very skilfully. To me the way that the tempera lends itself to the piece is that it makes for precision and little blending, and the outcome is bold and vibrant, calling more attention towards it than a muted colour palette would have. It dries up and goes off as it is mixed with egg white, so small areas would have to be painted at a time, implying how much they care about the underlying current affairs that their work is inspired by.

Contrast, second to the blinding narratives, is what stands out to me about them. The mix of the historic painting technique and modern technology is one, but there are a myriad of examples throughout the painting. Their controversial and very intelligent appropriation of the familiar, traditional English imagery of St. George slaying the dragon giving a totally new and current meaning. 

In my opinion the reference to the historic practise of illuminated lettering shows wisdom, because it was traditionally done by monks, who were the first to read and write. It highlights the fact that the message that they’re putting across is the intellectual sense, and makes it seem like a piece of historical weight. 

One of the aspects that is central to the whole composition is Boris Johnson on the back of the horse, dressed as a clown, and stabbing an NHS nurse in the back. His size is insignificant compared to her, like classic religious paintings where there is a hierarchy of importance reflected by the size of the figures. I think that the symbolism of him stabbing her shows the way in which they haven’t been given a pay rise, despite the superficial clapping that everybody took part in. 

I love that the woman representing the whole of the NHS is an ethic minority, linking to their own glowing heritage and cutting through the stereotypical archetype. She has taken the place of the saint in the artwork that this is referencing, which I think is very fitting as after all it’s the nurses who are on the frontlines dealing with the pandemic. 

Every little detail is so thought-provoking, and when it comes to sharing a message through their own post-modern, satirical style, I think that they do this very successfully. 

I love Tracey Emin’s controversial assemblage ‘Everyone I Have Ever Slept With’ because of the way that it tackles taboo subjects and stereotypes in a way that is subtle and (to most) unexpectedly unoffensive.

The curved shape of the tent suggests unapologetic femininity and to me the fact that it is a tent, rather than something sturdy and secure like a concrete house, represents fragility and evanescence; it’s an unusually vulnerable piece. I think that first and foremost, the tent represents a haven. This Brit Art piece doesn’t have the ‘shock factor’ of some of her other works – contrary to what the title may suggest - but is equally as powerful.

By using the medium of applique, I think that Emin is making a feminist statement. Fulfilling the outdated stereotype of applique traditionally being a ‘women’s craft’, I think that she is challenging today’s stigmas by juxtaposing the method with a contemporary patriarchy-slamming message. However, everything about it is very delicate and mild, lending to the overall quaint aesthetic.

Initially criticised by many and accused of being boastful, on closer inspection, the piece is actually less about sexual intimacy, and more about general human intimacy. In my opinion, I think that the fact that people jumped the former conclusion shows how women are portrayed in our society and therefore the title is just as significant as the art itself. Of the 102 names listed inside the tent, there are notably many non-sexual partners such as her twin brother, grandmother and two aborted foetuses who meet the more literal definition of ‘sleeping with’ someone.

Emin accentuates this further by the colours that she uses. The tent has an inviting, brightly lit entrance, but is de-sexualised further by using blues and yellows, becoming increasingly less of a physical representation of her body and more a doorway to her mind. There’s something very welcoming about the interior, but the façade is very plain aside from the date of its production, implying to me that an invitation is needed to enter.