Frank Lloyd Wright believed that a building should evoke its location. We see this not only in Falling Water, but also in the Robie House in Chicago, Illinois. This building was constructed between 1907 and 1909, and was designed as a “prarie house,” a style that was quite popular in Chicago at that time. With long, sweeping, ground-hugging lines, the house captures the expansiveness of the surrounding Midwest flatlands, truly meshing the structure with the earth around it.
Wright was inspired by Japanese organic architecture, and believed that individuals should have the right to move within a “free” space with a non-symmetrical design that interacts with its non-symmetrical surroundings. He achieved this in the Robie House with a “wandering” plan that combined both open and closed joined spaces, grouped around a central fireplace. (Fireplaces are common with Wright; he believed in the hearth's age-old domestic significance.) The home combines enclosed patios, overhanging roofs and strip windows which allow for unexpected light sources and a view of the outdoors. The result is a celebration of the third dimension, motion, and space.
The Robie House is anti-classical because its emphasis is not on form; it is not rational or simple. It is emotional and abstract and its design is far from simplistic. Wright abandoned all symmetry with the Robie House. He eliminated a facade and created a hidden front door and extended the roofs far beyond the walls. He also matched the new and abstract interior spacial arrangement to the exterior design, allowing the flow of the interior space to determine the sharp angular placement of the exterior walls.
Wright relied on the principle of continuity in his design: “Classic architecture was all fixation ... Now why not let walls, ceilings, floors become seen as component parts of each other? ... You may see the appearance in the surface of your hand contrasted with the articulation of the bony structure itself. This ideal, profound in its architectural implications ... I called ... continuity.” With a style entirely his own, Wright achieved this idea of continuity through organic architecture unmatched by any other.
Showing posts with label iart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iart. Show all posts
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Outsider Art: Adolf Wolfli
Adolf Wolfli (1864-1930) was a Swiss artist who is regarded as one of the first influences in the Art Brut or outsider art traditions. Wolfli began drawing as a psychiatric patient in the Waldau Clinic in Berne, Switzerland. His first surviving works, a series of 50 pencil drawings, were created between 1904 and 1906. In 1908, he began the creation of a semi-autobiographical epic which eventually stretched to 45 volumes, containing a total of over 1,600 illustrations. Wolfli combined musical lyrics, illustrations, and sometimes, magazine clippings, to create a kaleidoscopic effect. Almost all of his works were produced on either newsprint paper, brown packing paper, or regular drawing paper, and were designed with colored pencils.
“Hautania and Haaverianna” is a part of Wolfli's Bread Art productions. These pieces of art were the ones he created for others in exchange for colored pencils, paper, and tobacco. These single-sheet drawings were mostly composed between 1912 and 1930.
This particular work of art is as strange as Wolfli gets. From reading about his use of symbolism, I know that the crosses on the heads of the figures are strictly religious, and that the upright figure is a female. Females in Wolfli's illustrations can be identified by the fact that they are usually holding an object, this time, a bass violin.
Like most outsider artists, Wolfli created definitive lines, encouraging a one-dimensional perspective. There is no near and far to this painting, only one place for the eyes to rest. As it is abstract, there is no noticeable shading. All colors are flat and well-defined. Wolfli's use of color is interesting, as well. Most of the time, he relied on neutral tones, only using color to accent the overall illustration. Here, color is used sparingly on the bass violin. Complimenting colors are used to create a false frame around the entire work.
Although Wolfli was an untrained artist, he had a natural knack for balance. His art is very geometrical, which adds to this element. Wolfli's geometrical shapes fill up the page, utilizing every inch of space. Because he used colored pencils, the texture of his work generally depends on the type of paper he used, although he was known for using cross-hatching and other patterns throughout his pieces.
I really like Wolfli's work, especially because it reminds me of my husband, Nick. He is a songwriter, and he scrawls down his lyrics much like Wolfli did. Nick prefers to put his lyrics down with marker on nice drawing paper. He then creates illustrations to compliment the words, and sometimes uses photos or other cut-outs to decorate the page. When I looked at Wolfli for the first time, I immediately noticed the likeness to my husband's pieces. While I haven't had the opportunity yet to read Wolfli's lyrics, it is definitely something I'd like to do.
“Hautania and Haaverianna” is a part of Wolfli's Bread Art productions. These pieces of art were the ones he created for others in exchange for colored pencils, paper, and tobacco. These single-sheet drawings were mostly composed between 1912 and 1930.
This particular work of art is as strange as Wolfli gets. From reading about his use of symbolism, I know that the crosses on the heads of the figures are strictly religious, and that the upright figure is a female. Females in Wolfli's illustrations can be identified by the fact that they are usually holding an object, this time, a bass violin.
Like most outsider artists, Wolfli created definitive lines, encouraging a one-dimensional perspective. There is no near and far to this painting, only one place for the eyes to rest. As it is abstract, there is no noticeable shading. All colors are flat and well-defined. Wolfli's use of color is interesting, as well. Most of the time, he relied on neutral tones, only using color to accent the overall illustration. Here, color is used sparingly on the bass violin. Complimenting colors are used to create a false frame around the entire work.
Although Wolfli was an untrained artist, he had a natural knack for balance. His art is very geometrical, which adds to this element. Wolfli's geometrical shapes fill up the page, utilizing every inch of space. Because he used colored pencils, the texture of his work generally depends on the type of paper he used, although he was known for using cross-hatching and other patterns throughout his pieces.
I really like Wolfli's work, especially because it reminds me of my husband, Nick. He is a songwriter, and he scrawls down his lyrics much like Wolfli did. Nick prefers to put his lyrics down with marker on nice drawing paper. He then creates illustrations to compliment the words, and sometimes uses photos or other cut-outs to decorate the page. When I looked at Wolfli for the first time, I immediately noticed the likeness to my husband's pieces. While I haven't had the opportunity yet to read Wolfli's lyrics, it is definitely something I'd like to do.
Michelangelo's vs. Bernini's “David”
For this week's assignment, I chose to compare/contrast Michelangelo and Bernini's sculptures of David. Both works were subtracted from marble, and both depict David just before defeating Goliath. Both are free-standing, three-dimensional figures. However, each of these sculptures were approached quite differently, and the end result is definitely something to be analyzed.
Michelangelo's larger-than-life version of David shows the figure responding to an oncoming Goliath. He is prepared for the fight and confident of a victory. The figure shows off Michelangelo's strong comprehension of contrapposto, in which the body's axes are adjusted to indicate weight shift and the potential for actual movement. The rigidity of his limbs, the sleekness of his muscles, let the viewer know that an exhibition of David's strength is soon to come. This is the work that gave Michelangelo his fame. While “David” is seemingly motionless, the figure is foreshadowing of those that Michelangelo will go on to paint for years to come. However, the artist will do much more in the way of portraying his figures in action later on.
Bernini approached this same moment in time in a very different way, opposing notions presented by predecessors Michelangelo, Donatello, and Verroccio. He chose to show David in split-second action, slinging a stone towards the impending Goliath. The figure shows off the artist's use of implied continuum, meaning that when you look at the sculpture, you can imagine the past, present, and future events surrounding the figure you're presented with. David, in this version, is actually moving through time and space. The sculpture commands space surrounding its placement, as well. Viewing the figure leaves one anticipating an unseen Goliath, and the space around the work helps it “breathe,” adding more life to the action at hand.
Michelangelo's larger-than-life version of David shows the figure responding to an oncoming Goliath. He is prepared for the fight and confident of a victory. The figure shows off Michelangelo's strong comprehension of contrapposto, in which the body's axes are adjusted to indicate weight shift and the potential for actual movement. The rigidity of his limbs, the sleekness of his muscles, let the viewer know that an exhibition of David's strength is soon to come. This is the work that gave Michelangelo his fame. While “David” is seemingly motionless, the figure is foreshadowing of those that Michelangelo will go on to paint for years to come. However, the artist will do much more in the way of portraying his figures in action later on.
Bernini approached this same moment in time in a very different way, opposing notions presented by predecessors Michelangelo, Donatello, and Verroccio. He chose to show David in split-second action, slinging a stone towards the impending Goliath. The figure shows off the artist's use of implied continuum, meaning that when you look at the sculpture, you can imagine the past, present, and future events surrounding the figure you're presented with. David, in this version, is actually moving through time and space. The sculpture commands space surrounding its placement, as well. Viewing the figure leaves one anticipating an unseen Goliath, and the space around the work helps it “breathe,” adding more life to the action at hand.
Analysis of Theodore Gericault's "Raft of the Medusa"
Theodore Gericault's “Raft of the Medusa” depicts an actual historic event: A shipwreck that took place in 1816 off the coast of Africa. The French “Medusa” ran onto a reef and 150 of its passengers built a makeshift raft in a desperate attempt to survive. After 12 days at sea, only 15 men remained when the raft was found. Gericault's account is undeniably Romantic, depicting the horror, chaos and emotion of the tragedy.
Line, form, shape, and balance all go hand-in-hand in this painting, which is why I adore it. A jumble of writhing bodies lay on the bottom of the painting. Many of these are corpses, representing the suffering, despair and death the passengers encountered. As the eye moves upward, the painting “comes to life.” From bottom to top, you see death, the struggle to cling to life, and the vibrant attempt to signal rescue by means of a tiny ship sailing in the distance. This scene is arranged in a powerful X-shaped composition. A light-filled diagonal axis crosses from the bodies at the lower left to the man on top of his raft-mates' shoulders waving a piece of cloth. Another axis, dark and shadowy, crosses the opposite side of the painting, descending from the storm clouds clear down to the shadowed upper torso of the body falling out into the sea at the bottom right corner of the painting. Space is compounded by the angular corner of the raft jutting into the lower portion of the painting, with bodies falling into the viewer's lap.
Gericault's use of color is subdued yet striking. He use of tenebrism, or extreme lights and darks, create an eerie, tragic feeling. The lightest lights reflect off of the writhing bodies, struggling to survive. The darkest darks, one can assume, are only covering up more death and destruction. This use of light causes the eye to move from one body to the next. To me, the eye first lands at the bottom of this painting, with bodies falling into your lap. The eye is then drawn upward by the use of light and angularity, until it finally rests of the scene's promise of hope and rescue. All of this incorporates a beautiful balance and focal point.
Line, form, shape, and balance all go hand-in-hand in this painting, which is why I adore it. A jumble of writhing bodies lay on the bottom of the painting. Many of these are corpses, representing the suffering, despair and death the passengers encountered. As the eye moves upward, the painting “comes to life.” From bottom to top, you see death, the struggle to cling to life, and the vibrant attempt to signal rescue by means of a tiny ship sailing in the distance. This scene is arranged in a powerful X-shaped composition. A light-filled diagonal axis crosses from the bodies at the lower left to the man on top of his raft-mates' shoulders waving a piece of cloth. Another axis, dark and shadowy, crosses the opposite side of the painting, descending from the storm clouds clear down to the shadowed upper torso of the body falling out into the sea at the bottom right corner of the painting. Space is compounded by the angular corner of the raft jutting into the lower portion of the painting, with bodies falling into the viewer's lap.
Gericault's use of color is subdued yet striking. He use of tenebrism, or extreme lights and darks, create an eerie, tragic feeling. The lightest lights reflect off of the writhing bodies, struggling to survive. The darkest darks, one can assume, are only covering up more death and destruction. This use of light causes the eye to move from one body to the next. To me, the eye first lands at the bottom of this painting, with bodies falling into your lap. The eye is then drawn upward by the use of light and angularity, until it finally rests of the scene's promise of hope and rescue. All of this incorporates a beautiful balance and focal point.
Analysis of Pablo Picasso's “Girl Before a Mirror”
“Girl Before a Mirror” is unmistakable as a Picasso. Line and style gives it all away. The form of the painting and its color edges are hard and well-defined by the use of outlining. Curved and straight lines are juxtaposed against one another. This arrangement of lines creates an effect that is crisp and strong, catching the viewer's attention and holding it there as the eye follows one bold line to another.
Picasso's use of the color palette makes this work of art stunning. He uses both lights and darks broadly, with the majority of his focus on strong contrast, posing the darkest darks against the lightest lights to create a striking effect. Opposing warm and cool colors alike in the girl and her reflection make this piece very thought-provoking. Which two sides of this girl is he depicting? The girl on the inside and the girl on the outside? Her day-self and her night-self? Regardless, there is contrast present, which lets us know that the girl herself possessed a contrasting personality.
When speaking of Picasso's use of brush stroke in “Girl Before a Mirror,” one must rather speak of the lack thereof. The brush stroke is unobtrusive and not very noticeable. The vibrant areas, where you would normally notice brush stroke, are mostly flat, without texture.
At one point in his career, Picasso became absorbed in the idea of finding a new way to represent figures in their interior space. Instead of representing figures as stand-alone subjects, he mastered the art of fracturing their shapes and interweaving them with jagged planes in the space surrounding them. While he created a rather patterned backdrop for “Girl Before a Mirror,” he combined the space between the girl and the mirror itself, almost meshing the two together as one form.
Picasso's use of the color palette makes this work of art stunning. He uses both lights and darks broadly, with the majority of his focus on strong contrast, posing the darkest darks against the lightest lights to create a striking effect. Opposing warm and cool colors alike in the girl and her reflection make this piece very thought-provoking. Which two sides of this girl is he depicting? The girl on the inside and the girl on the outside? Her day-self and her night-self? Regardless, there is contrast present, which lets us know that the girl herself possessed a contrasting personality.
When speaking of Picasso's use of brush stroke in “Girl Before a Mirror,” one must rather speak of the lack thereof. The brush stroke is unobtrusive and not very noticeable. The vibrant areas, where you would normally notice brush stroke, are mostly flat, without texture.
At one point in his career, Picasso became absorbed in the idea of finding a new way to represent figures in their interior space. Instead of representing figures as stand-alone subjects, he mastered the art of fracturing their shapes and interweaving them with jagged planes in the space surrounding them. While he created a rather patterned backdrop for “Girl Before a Mirror,” he combined the space between the girl and the mirror itself, almost meshing the two together as one form.
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