Archive for category Publisher: Yale University Press

London’s New Scene – art and culture in the 1960s || Lisa Tickner

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Sixties was a decade that was achingly hip and one of the most innovative in the history of popular culture. You could also make the case that its “anything goes” morality extended into the arts and that, just because something is new, it doesn’t have to be good.

All this is true, as is the fact that somewhere, as Philip Larkin assured us, something happened between the end of the Lady Chatterley trial and the Beatles’ first LP. It’s not entirely an exaggeration to say that the monochrome world of Post War austerity exploded into colour or that the Teenager was invented, albeit the groundwork was visible some years previously.

If you wanted an image that sums up the spirit of the time, the opening scene of Michelangelo Antonioni’s film Blow Up would be it. The scene is London and through largely deserted streets comes a motley crew of Harlequinesque characters who wouldn’t look out of place in that other seminal piece, the TV series The Prisoner. As a coup de théȃtre this is masterful, as it never leaves the viewer’s mind and sets the mood for the rest of the film, which adds a mystery that gives depth to what would otherwise be a superficial confection. It is however, one skilfully woven around the work of a photographer avowedly based on David Bailey, the wunderkind and chronicler of the time. Unsurprisingly, the film gets a whole chapter to itself in this thorough but eminently readable account of a remarkable decade.

The received view of the Sixties is that, if you can remember it, you weren’t there. The atmosphere was heady with the new and – er –substances. If this was you, the book will be a revelation; for the rest of us, a brilliant aide-mémoire.

For me, the Sixties was the time when I became aware of the wider world, which is why I love this so much and am writing about it in such depth. Some of you will agree with me, others will regard later decades as “theirs” and the earlier period as desperately out of date and old hat. To you, I’d say: read this. I’m not asking you to be converted, but at least you’ll understand. The “scene” of the title conveys the idea that the period was remarkably coherent and a lot more than simply a jumble of ideas that poured out, although it was that too.

The structure is chronological and begins with a look at Ken Russell’s 1962 documentary, Pop Goes The Easel, which blew away many cobwebs in the still staid (and still black & white) BBC. 1963 sees the opening of the Kasmin gallery that celebrated many newly-emerging talents, as well as the idea of the gallery as a white cube. The whole thing is a chronicle of the movement that wasn’t a movement – rather, simply an expression of a mood – and tells the stories of the people who didn’t so much drive it as surf the wave that it sometimes seems to have created for itself.

The final chapter is The Art School Revolution and tells the story of Hornsey College of Art and the artists who emerged from the earlier groundwork and carried what we might call the flame forward. A rather useful epilogue, When Attitudes Became Form, hints at the legacy, but doesn’t omit the fact that some things were just mannered. As John Lennon put it, “Nothing happened except that we all got dressed up”.

Were the Sixties really nothing more than the Emperor’s new clothes? You decide. It was a heck of a suit, though, and one of many colours.

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The Elizabethan Image || Roy Strong

This is the ideal companion, as well as counterpart, to Elizabeth Goldring’s fabulous account of the miniaturist Nicholas Hilliard.

Where miniatures were intensely personal, this is the public face of art. Appearance and perception were paramount in the Sixteenth Century, where the intrigues and machinations of the Court have parallels in the politics of today. It is greatly to Roy Strong’s credit that, while he makes this point, he does not labour it. It’s introduced as a way of understanding the past, not to explain the present.

Elizabethan art was full of iconography – the position of hands, what they hold and minute details of clothing all tell the viewer something about the subject and Strong shows how these run through the period covered. Not all the paintings were intended for wider public consumption, but they would probably have been seen by an inner circle and served as a reminder of, and to cement, position. They are, in many ways, the voices of those who commissioned them.

This is a full and thorough account of a fascinating period of English history that necessarily also covers the politics of the time. Strong never forgets, though, that he is primarily writing an artistic account and his narrative always concentrates on this. The illustrations are many, well-chosen and superbly reproduced.

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Nicholas Hilliard || Elizabeth Goldring

Nicholas Hilliard is arguably one of the greatest portrait artists this country has ever produced. That his name is not a household word is largely down to the fact that he was primarily a miniaturist. His works don’t hang in all their glory on gallery walls, but rather are tucked away in glass cases, requiring close examination to appreciate properly.

What is surprising when you do get close is that, apart from the costume of the sitters, Hilliard could easily be working two or even three hundred years later than he was. These are not the formal portraits of the Sixteenth Century court, often severe and forbidding, but something altogether more relaxed and intimate. Well, of course they are, because, just as exhibition is difficult, these were not for public show; they were for family, friends and lovers and for remembrance while the subject was away, or had died. They carry the essence of personality intentionally in a way that had never really been done before.

To achieve not just a physical likeness but also character and personality takes skill at any level, but to do so in something only an inch or two high is truly remarkable. There are some enlargements in this magnificent book that are up to ten times the original size and show the beautiful detail and frankly unbelievable skill Hilliard brought to his work. Few paintings will stand this level of magnification, but it takes a moment to realise that these are not simply full-size.

This is set to be the definitive study of Nicholas Hilliard. It includes a full biography and includes a wealth of illustrations, many of the images appearing in colour for the first time. New archival research adds to the authoritative nature of the text and the quality of production is everything you could wish for – a book like this can easily be let down in that department, but this shines.

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