007

Forum Replies Created

Viewing 15 posts - 1 through 15 (of 581 total)
  • Author
    Posts
  • in reply to: Ben Uri blog #10026

    007
    Participant

    Let's start a Lenkiewicz thread on another website? http://www.artforums.co.uk

    in reply to: Jojo’s artist in residence #10058

    007
    Participant

    Is it true that one or two of the people most closely associated with Robert will be pursauded to make cameo appearances as themselves in the forthcoming play “Man in the Red Scarf?”

    in reply to: Jojo’s artist in residence #10057

    007
    Participant

    A woman visited Lenkiewicz in his studio and asked if he would paint her nude for £3,000.Without flinching Lenkiewicz said "NO".The woman uped the price to £6,000.Lenkiewicz still said no.Angry, the woman summoned her husband to help pursuade the artist.Eventually Lenkiewicz agreed but only if Wellington boots would be worn.The man and woman agreed but asked "why Wellingtons boots?"Lenkiewicz replied "I will need something to hold my brushes in".

    in reply to: Jojo’s artist in residence #10053

    007
    Participant

    Chris Raven posts to Marlow, Marlow posts to JaneJane posts to Jack Sparrow, but Jack's resigned again,Art3366 post to Billy, Francis posts to BrittJojo builds a bonfire, Kevin plays with it-Whistling tunes we hid in the dunes by the seaside-Whistling tunes we're kissing baboons in the jungleIt's a knockoutIf looks could kill, they probably willIn games without frontiers-war without tearsGames without frontiers-war without tearsLenkiewicz.org r.i.p.Satre has a red flag, John Robinson's is blueAll have hills to fly them on and John’s a painter tooLogging on the website, playing silly gamesHiding out in tree-tops shouting out rude names-Whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside-Whistling tunes we piss on the goons in the jungleIt's a knockoutIf looks could kill they probably willIn games without frontiers-wars without tearsIf looks could kill they probably willIn games without frontiers-war without tearsGames without frontiers-war without tearsLenkiewicz.org r.i.p.(Gabriel/Weaver)This was posted for satirical reasons only folks.

    in reply to: Ben Uri blog #10023

    007
    Participant

    Satre once posted the following article on this website:The beast within Francis Bacon may have fallen from favour, but his art tells the brutal truth about mankind's bloodiest century. Jonathan Jones reportsTuesday August 9, 2005GuardianThe pictorial history of the first world war sat on a shelf and sometimes, bored with Action Man, I would take a look inside. Suddenly you turned a page and there was a face photographed in profile with an empty space where the nose and mouth had been before they were blown away. I am looking once more at that face, the same profile, with the terrible maim. The flesh that remains is smeared whitish pink; the hair stands sharply backward in shock. Crushed right down in the ruin of a jaw are fat lips, halfway down the poor b******'s throat. His one visible eye is right against the wound. This is the face of Francis Bacon, as he depicted it in the third panel of his 1967 triptych Three Studies for a Self-Portrait. The renowned artist was not, of course, deformed in this or any other way. His face is probably more familiar in photographs now than his paintings are - that hand grenade of a phiz, photographed in ruddy old age over his shiny leather jacket or portrayed in pensive prime by his friend Lucian Freud. Since his death in 1992, Bacon has gone through all the vicissitudes of a modern master - the disputes over galleries and suspect drawings, the ghastly biopic, and, in a muted sort of way, the critical reaction. It's not exactly that anyone has come out and said Bacon was a load of crap. But there hasn't been a big London show of his work in years, apart from a Hayward exhibition curated by his critical champion David Sylvester. Now that Sylvester himself has gone, along with Bruce Bernard and the rest of Bacon's postwar Soho milieu, I think that curators and museum directors feel an inexplicable weight lifted: at last we don't have to laud those depressing old paintings with the mutilated bodies in them. Scotland, though, is uncool about art, and the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art has a big, generous and yet precise exhibition, Francis Bacon: Portraits and Heads, as if he were still where it's at. I'm not sure that's true and my suspicion is confirmed when I hear a couple of students wonder who this puzzling artist is. I used to really dislike him. When I were a lad, in the 1980s, Bacon was feted not only by museums but at the highest levels of state. Making the pilgrimage to see the show that confirmed Bacon's masterly status was oppressive. It is oppressive, when you're young, to be told what to admire. More than that, if you believe in a socialist utopia, or any similar faith, as we did when we were students, Bacon's forsaken forms are as welcome as an accurate account of Stalin's purges or Saddam Hussein's attacks on his own people. Bacon is the painter who delivered the worst news about the modern world. His was a terrible century. Fascists killed millions but revolution killed millions more. Intellectual honesty was almost impossible in a world where it seemed necessary to take sides. In the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, a drawing by Picasso for one of his Weeping Women is a profound tribute to the suffering of Spain in the civil war - but Picasso compromised himself by joining the Communist party, after Stalinists had systematically betrayed Spain. The left is good at self-delusion. Bacon was an apolitical, good-for-nothing gambler with no principles to blind him to reality. And that is why it fell to him to acknowledge the real meaning of the atrocities whose photographic evidence appeared all over the world with the defeat of Germany. At the time he painted Head I, in 1948,"responsible" people were busy separating the depravities of Auschwitz from accounts of mass murder inside the USSR. Humanism was still the watchword of the left. So here, in Bacon's appalling painting, is what he thought of humanism: a disintegrated face fused with the baying head of a baboon. There is little point in wallowing in the brilliance of Bacon if you don't recognise him as a moralist first and last. The way Head I is painted brings me out in goosebumps: the pleasure of this horror is immense. A matted blackness, a congealed, cloacal texture of extruded pigments, creates the picture's claustrophobia. The thin transparent veil of purple flesh that hangs in this darkness seems caught at the moment of explosion, in the instant it evaporates. Turner and Gainsborough are in Bacon - but he turns their light to darkness, and Turner's gold to vomit. Not only a great colourist, Bacon has a sculptor's imagination. As you walk through the rooms digesting all his gross abuses of the human face you realise with mystified shock that not once does he repeat himself. None of the disfigurements are ever used twice. Bacon is a master, and this exhibition establishes that all the more effectively by seeing him from a modest and prosaic point of view - Bacon the portraitist and student of the human head. It is a shame he doesn't have a painting in the National Gallery, so close to his Soho nightworld. Bacon is a passionate student of painting. He is a theorist of art. Seen in this light his purpose is to discover what painting can do in the photographic age and - which is not unrelated - whether it can survive the death of God. Bacon was a very overt atheist. Maybe this seems irrelevant, but you only have to visit an Old Master painting collection - such as the Doria Pamphilj palace in Rome where the Velázquez portrait of Pope Innocent X that obsessed Bacon can be found - to see that oil painting and religion are intimates. All those Madonnas, all those popes. Bacon took the spiritual heart of high culture and stuck a knife right through it. Why is it a pope who screams in a glass booth, the top of his head missing to leave a purple howling mouth in white scar tissue in his 1949 painting Head VI? The Vatican had a less than exemplary record of standing up to the Nazis. Even so, it is extreme to have portrayed a pope as a war criminal in a protective vitrine. Bacon puts religion itself in the dock. He was Irish, after all. All that prayer, confession, the fear of Hell - does it make humanity any less of a beast? It just sanctifies cruelties - Bacon's homosexuality damned him - and in Head VI the Pope knows there is nothing, nothing there. Nothing but us lumps of meat. This is an exhibition of "heads" and portraits. What is the difference? There is a tradition in high art - the kind Bacon made - of studying, or fantasising, the head itself, mapping the extremes of expression and physiognomy. The 17th-century Dutch called such paintings "tronies" and they probably derive ultimately from Leonardo da Vinci's godless, mutant "caricature" drawings. Bacon's facial fantasias echo that tradition. His oil squirts out monsters in pictures such as Portrait of a Man With Glasses, whose round, blind spectacles make you think of James Joyce. Bacon's paintings of the 1940s and 1950s are essays in nihilism and atheism. God is dead, and so is Marx. But this exhibition also contains portraits - and a portrait is never pure philosophy. It is anecdote - it is a souvenir of someone. Bacon, for all his butchery, found faces worth painting, and repainting; people worth knowing, and, it seems, worth loving. One of them is Lucian Freud. The greatest living figurative painter's models have been known to complain about what Freud does to them. But nothing he has painted is as eviscerating as the portraits his friend Francis made of him. I never knew there were so many; Bacon painted Freud obsessively, like a lover. In a painting from 1965 Freud's face has sucked itself in, with features all over the shop; like a Picasso portrait beaten up by gangsters. The most poignant room contains four canvases from a series called Man in Blue, from 1954. The model was a man Bacon met at a hotel in Henley-on-Thames, but the paintings are haunted by Bacon's lover Peter Lacey and his patron Robert Sainsbury. It is so theatrical. And this has to be said about an exhibition in Edinburgh at festival time. All the theatre fans heading for the city should see Bacon's tragicomic art. These paintings are the equivalent in visual art of Bacon's great postwar drama contemporaries - he is the Beckett, Ionesco or Pinter of art. Especially, in the Man in Blue series, of Pinter. The man even looks like Pinter and the blue, stylish, hollow world he inhabits is a Pinteresque No Man's Land. And this brings us back to politics. Objections such as I once held to Bacon's pessimism resemble the radical theatre critic Kenneth Tynan's views on Beckett and the theatre of the absurd, supposedly apolitical and bourgeois in its despair, and therefore inferior to Brecht, who died a state hack in east Berlin. Today, Pinter has been so browbeaten by such criticism that the greatest modern writer of English prose has reinvented himself as "political" and publishes doggerel criticising Tony Blair. Now that's tragicomic. Bacon never betrayed himself in that way. What he did do was learn to love the hideous ape. His portraits of Dyer and Freud are brutally exposing of the fragility of flesh - and insist that flesh is all we are. And yet this insistence is compassionate and enlightened. We must learn to love the mortal monkey. What is the alternative? You wake up to discover people have been reduced to fragments in the name of the god of the cruel and stupid. · Francis Bacon, Portraits and Heads, Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh, until September 4. Details: 0131-624 6558 Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2005Did anyone see the Chuck Connelly documentary a few weeks ago?

    in reply to: Jojo’s artist in residence #10051

    007
    Participant

    Hey Jo, where you goin' with that camera in your hand? Put a hold on the front cover of the new book. How about this for an idea? A photograph of the artefact Diogenes in front of the painting The Putrefaction of Diogenes?

    in reply to: New sightings #9990

    007
    Participant

    Up for sale on 08/10/2008 at Sotherby's along with 6 other lots. LOT 185 ROBERT LENKIEWICZ1941-2002NIGHT WATCH20,000—30,000 GBPhttp://www.sothebys.com5 stars ***** One of the best.

    in reply to: Ben Uri blog #10011

    007
    Participant

    I see numberninethegallery have: SELF PORTRAIT WITH SELF PORTRAIT AT NINETYFOR SALEPOA221 x 99 cm Not sure if that ones in the exhibition or not. Or maybe it's in this exhibition: Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery’s Gas Hall will host an art fair over the weekend of September 19-21 which its organisers are claiming is a first for the city.Promoted by Artifex Contemporary Arts, the Sutton Coldfield-based commercial gallery, it will feature works for sale from more than 30 galleries from around the country. “As far as I know it’s the first art fair to be held in Birmingham with galleries from all over the UK,” says Steve Turner, one of the fair’s organisers.“We have some unique things, including maquettes by Laurence Broderick for the bull sculpture in the Bull Ring and one of the largest finished paintings by Robert Lenkiewicz.”If you want to take that home with you, you’ll need a large van (it’s over seven feet tall) and £120,000. Wasn't Hackworthy and Sons the removal van featured in The Real Hustle last month?

    in reply to: Ben Uri blog #10009

    007
    Participant

    I must obtain a copy of H.M.S. Donovan to put alongside Hunky Dory and In Search of Space in my C.D. collection. All were released in 1971. I hope Goldie wins Maestro by the way.

    in reply to: Ben Uri blog #10004

    007
    Participant

    That would be this book: The Self Portraits - Robert Lenkiewicz

    in reply to: New sightings #9989

    007
    Participant

    Study of Faraday – from which the limited edition print was produced – was on display in the Somerville Gallery window yesterday.

    in reply to: Oldham exhibition #9987

    007
    Participant

    Manchester Evening NewsSeeing a Double side of love...Sarah Walters 6/6/2008A PEOPLE'S painter frowned on by the high art establishment, Robert Lenkiewicz was an ambitious artist who created massive murals and works of art during his heyday.His public mural, at the Plymouth Barbican, first garnered him public attention, but it was the stunt that preceded Death - his 1981 project examining the topic, ahead of which he faked his own death to find out what it was like "to be thought to be dead" - that established him as one of the south west's pre-eminent painters.He was no stranger to controversy - in his work or his private life. Lenkiewicz reacted against the styles and conventions of his time and, at a point when figurative painting was deeply unfashionable, he undertook a lifelong commitment to examine fundamentally human issues.Early in his career, he earned a reputation as something of an outlaw. At his London studios, he welcomed in anyone in need of shelter; his neighbours, not appreciating the constant stream of addicts, criminals and mentally ill visitors that provided Lenkiewicz with many subjects to paint, (perhaps unsurprisingly) encouraged him to leave the city in the 1960s. Focuses Gallery Oldham's show, Robert Lenkiewicz: Late Works, Observations On The Theme Of The Double, focuses on the Jewish painter's work throughout the 1980s and early 1990s. During this period, Lenkiewicz's Painter With Women series puts forward the idea that love is a form of self-obsession.Two themes persist: the isolation of the individual and the anxiety we experience in the face of inevitable death. Lenkiewicz believed these factors drove people into various forms of obsessive behaviour including love, suicide and additions - to drugs and alcohol.Lenkiewicz himself displayed compulsive behaviour, amassing a library of over 25,000 books on topics such as psychology, metaphysics, the occult and sexual behaviour. He was an equally obsessive painter, completing 21 large-scale projects before his death in 2002. Oldham Cultural Quarter, Greaves St. Until Wednesday, August 20. Free. The article doesn't mention Diogenes or the # of children fathered once! - WW

    in reply to: Tickets now on sale #9980

    007
    Participant

    A short history of “The Man in the Red Scarf” in literature and painting:D.H. Lawrence (1885–1930).

    in reply to: Alice Jones’ diary #9969

    007
    Participant

    Saturday, 17 May 2008Robert LenkiewiczIn Search of the English Eccentric A few days ago in The Independent there was a profile of Robert Lenkiewicz, painter, showman, artistic musketeer, lothario, and eccentric, who died six years ago leaving a mountain of unsettled debts. There were 240 claimants to his estate. Most of these claims have been met by selling off his paintings and his collection of rare books, but it's the record prices for his paintings that sparked the article.They're newsworthy because he was not, and is not, seen as a cutting-edge contemporary artist. Instead his work was shunned by what you could call 'the contemporary art world' yet embraced by 'the public', in the way that Jack Vettriano's work is. Though their work is quite different - even if Tom Lubbock more or less lumps the two together at the end of this piece (along with Beryl Cook). More on this further down.Robert Lenkiewicz is someone I was planning to write about in the chapter on eccentric artists (towards the end of In Search of the English Eccentric). I went for Sebastian Horsley instead, and then wrote in a general sense about how the modern artist has been perceived over the last 500 years. All of a sudden I'm not sure if that was the right thing to do.Lenkiewicz would have been fun to write about, mainly because he falls outside the accepted caricature of the aristocratic, anachronistic eccentric toff who lives in cheery isolation somewhere in the English countryside, also because there are some great stories associated with him. But, if I'm entirely honest, and after starting a sentence like that I kind of have to be, I didn't want to write about him because I used to work for his son at his gallery. He's called Wolfe. I know one of his daughters too, and I guess the idea of writing about their father with any kind of authority felt unnatural. I couldn't see a way of describing him that would allow both of them to recognise him. But that's an aside. Again. At times this entire blog feels like an aside. Much more interesting is Wolfe talking about what it was to be a teenager growing up around his dad.He told me once about a tramp called Andy Leech who had been taken in by his father. One night Andy drank a titanic quantity of meths, climbed to the top of the building where they lived and began to piss onto the street below. Mid-piss he set fire to the stream of urine issuing forth before jumping, ablaze, to his death. Wolfe was about 16 at the time. His father wanted him to know death, to understand something of its smell and what it looked like so he took him and his brother Ruben to the morgue. There they found Andy's corpse. He told his sons to sit with it for fifteen minutes. Wolfe went to feel the texture of the charred flesh but pushed too hard and broke the blackened surface. From the way Wolfe described it, it had the consistency of a crème brûlé pudding. On the way out, with a rare kind of forcefulness, Robert insisted that they look into the other cubicles in the morgue. He wanted to show them more bodies and more death. So they did, like negatives exposed to the non-light that was, here, death.Wolfe's an artist now. There's one more thing to say about the way Robert Lenkiewicz was described in this article, and it's to do with how we configure art and artists.Although he is lumped together with artists who produce kitsch and unchallenging work, Lenkiewicz's output is different to that of Jack Vettriano or Beryl Cook. Because of its inconsistency. That and its ambition. There are occasions when he achieves the clarity and quality of mark, intent, visual impact and the kind of compositional harmony that he undoubtedly aspired to. Yet there are thousands of times when he does not - the works he did in a hurry, to pay a bill, get out of there, pass the time, or just feed the part of him that needed to be prolific. Towards the end of his life he rarely struggled to push each painting as far as it could possibly go, more often leaving the paint thin and light.When talking about art, a lot of the time you end up talking about movements or artists - though more often it's artists. When talking about artists you end up referring to the work they have produced. Their character, eccentric or not, with time becomes less important than the works that have survived them. And it's at this point, for the sake of concision, when describing an artistic oeuvre in your mind you flatten the images that you can associate easily with the artist, until they form a single generic image. Your response to that image controls your reaction to that artist. The artist becomes a discrete productive entity: a kind of machine there to produce 'arts'. It makes it easier to say yes or no to, say, Klee art, Kippenberger art, Kosuth art. So when Lubbock sets out a mini-hierarchy of figurative painters (a bit like a school sports day with coloured rosettes, trophies and plaques) he's cementing that.I suppose the thing that interests me here is that (as with someone like Giorgione) the artist-machine is rarely judged according to how many 'arts' it produces. Our minds can't easily concertina a thousand images into one.But don't bother telling this to a freakishly prolific artist. The drive to create on this scale doesn't stem from a reasoned intellectual decision; it comes from somewhere lower down.Posted by Henryhemming

    in reply to: Alice Jones’ diary #9951

    007
    Participant

    Since you ask Marlowe:Lenkiewicz titled a painting in his Suicide exhibition “Elvis Presley.” Elvis, missing his mother, seemingly went rapidly downhill after Priscilla left him. I have no knowledge of the painting at all. Just that Robert has said he had no interest in Rock “n” Roll. Elvis's vast intake of drugs and hamburgers, and his resultant early death, was seemingly triggered by aesthetic withdrawal; very Spiritualized.

Viewing 15 posts - 1 through 15 (of 581 total)