home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1995
/
TIME Almanac 1995.iso
/
time
/
100791
/
1007400.000
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1994-03-25
|
7KB
|
146 lines
<text id=91TT2231>
<title>
Oct. 07, 1991: Putting a Zeitgeist in a Box
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
Oct. 07, 1991 Defusing the Nuclear Threat
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ART, Page 66
Putting a Zeitgeist in a Box
</hdr><body>
<p>A huge show revisits the three cities where Modernism flowered
in the 1920s
</p>
<p>By Robert Hughes
</p>
<p> Big, narrative, tie-it-all-together museum exhibitions
remain irresistible, but they are rarely as well done as "The
1920s: Age of the Metropolis," which has been packing the public
into the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts through the summer and
will continue until Nov. 10. How do you put a zeitgeist in a
box, albeit a box the size of a museum? Led by Jean Clair, the
director of the Musee Picasso in Paris, six curators have set
out to raise and question the ghosts of the queen cities of
Modernism: Paris, Berlin and New York--with detours to London,
Weimar (for the Bauhaus), Cologne (for Dada) and Moscow (for
Constructivism)--in the decade between the end of World War
I and the arrival of the 1929 Depression.
</p>
<p> There are 688 works, ranging from Deco vases to
documentary photos, from tiny collages to a reconstruction of
Kurt Schwitters' Merzbau, from architectural drawings to a De
Havilland biplane and a huge, sleek Type 41 Bugatti Royale, the
ultimate dream machine of the 1920s, with sharkskin-inlaid
running boards and a 12.7-liter engine, one of only six that
were built before the Depression put an end to such automotive
fantasies. Even the school kids, who race through the rooms of
painting and sculpture, fall into an awed hush in front of this
one, as their ancestors were once supposed to shut up before a
Rembrandt.
</p>
<p> The catalog is massive, with 23 essays by various hands--a long symposium. The '20s, Clair points out, were the first
"name" dec ade in cultural history. In an older and
slower-changing Europe, cultural periods were identified with
long reigns--the age of Pericles, Louis XIV. But now, in a
time of fantastically accelerated communications and stylistic
shifts, what Clair calls "the tyranny of the short term" begins:
rapid identifiable packaging in culture.
</p>
<p> The show steers a didactic course through the recurrent
images of jazz-age dreaming. Maria, the famous she-robot in
Fritz Lang's 1927 film Metropolis, mother of a whole brood of
automatons down to George Lucas' See Threepio, was not alone:
her brothers were the machine men of Dadaism, whose poetic
meaning (like hers) was anguish in the face of inhuman
technology. No phase of modern art showed such profound doubts
about the present, or threw off such febrile dreams about new
social orders. The millenarian hope that eventually spawned the
totalitarianism of the '30s was felt by artists, architects and
designers, and was released as an obsession with social protest
in the here-and-now as well as in vast Laputan schemes for the
future.
</p>
<p> The city was seen as the mill of oppression, grinding
women down into whoredom and men into anonymity. German artists
like George Grosz, Karl Hubbuch and the remarkable and still
underknown Hannah Hoch imagined it as a grotesque theater, full
of libido and irony--the stage of a morality play, updated to
reflect the postwar sense of despair. From Grosz in Berlin to
Frans Masereel in Antwerp, an enormous iconography of city life--its edginess, speed, compression, perversion, fixation on
style--developed in the '20s. The idea that the city is
constructed of signs, of media and information overload as much
as of concrete and steel, was the essence of vision for Dada
collagists like Raoul Hausmann.
</p>
<p> Allied to this was the city as tomb, both futuristic and
archaic, a kind of Mayan ruin referring only to itself,
incomprehensible to its antlike inhabitants. This left its most
startling images in the expressionist cinema and in the sublime
renderings of the American architect Hugh Ferriss, the Pi ranesi
of the skyscraper age. But it also turns up in projects that
were, however nominally, designed for the real world, like the
huge pink mastabas of the "Metropolis" that Henri Sauvage hoped
to raise beside the Seine in 1928.
</p>
<p> Then there is the international preoccupation with a
benign Utopia--Europe's reaction against the horror of war--whose "spiritual" symbol was glass architecture. Besides the
familiar Constructivist icons, such as the sculptor Vladimir
Tatlin's wooden model for a giant tower that was to commemorate
the Third Communist International, there are fantasies by
much-lesser-known artists--the outstanding one being a German,
Wenzel Hablik, whose radiant glass towers and many-colored domes
resemble designs for the New Jerusalem.
</p>
<p> In the '20s, Modernism was not only a vehicle for
political protest or idealist reverie. It also became, for the
first time, chic: it entered the salons and diffused through the
decorative arts, especially in France. And it turned pompier,
as in the morbid and overblown paintings of society artist
Tamara de Lempicka. The birth of Art Deco is one of the themes
of this show--designers' homages to larger avant-garde ideas:
a Cubist table lamp, for instance, or "skyscraper" furniture.
</p>
<p> "Age of the Metropolis" does not pretend to cover every
kind of image made by artists and craftsmen in the '20s. Its
focus is the city, and that alone--so that although it
includes Fernand Leger's The Mechanic, 1920, the arcadian
strains in '20s French painting, Matisse and Derain, for
example, find no place in it. And quite a lot of lesser art does
because--derivative or coarse though it sometimes is--it has
something to say about the pervasiveness of imagery. Much of
Weimar-period German art is a crude mix of De Chirico and
cartooning, but one doesn't object to seeing it here, although
it quickly stales.
</p>
<p> "Metropolis" represents the populist side of the "new" art
history, which looks at works of art mainly in their relation
to ideology, social events and the culture at large, without
drawing strict hierarchical distinctions between "high" and
"low" art. The advantage of this stance is that it enables you
to create more compelling narratives about art than more
traditional connoisseurship could. You can reach out and argue
about what things say in concert--novels, propaganda, music,
film, advertising, magazines, TV, as well as painting, sculpture
and architecture. The disadvantage is that it tends to ignore
the exceptions--outstanding works of art that don't
necessarily fit the period they belong to. It also fosters a
mood of political overgeneralization, as though the history of
images were nothing other than that of ideological agendas.
</p>
<p> This illusion, largely abandoned by European
intellectuals, remains dogma in American academe, and one quails
to think what torrents of Marxist catalog cant might have
drowned this exhibition if it had been done in the U.S. But
there is little jargon in the catalog of "Age of the Metropolis"
and none in the show itself; it is an intelligent wide-screen
movie, generous in spirit, provocative and full of good things.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>