InstaLove: @lets_talk_about_art

@lets_talk_about_art, instagram, instalove, art history, kunstgeschichte, kunstvermittlung, jurgen vermaire, fancyandpants, FANCY & PANTS

Unter #InstaLove stellen wir euch unsere liebsten Instagram-Accounts vor. Diesmal: @lets_talk_about_art – Kunstvermittlung at its best auf Instagram.

Diese Sache mit der Kunstvermittlung (im Sinne von Kunstwissen weiterleiten) ist nicht ganz einfach. Sie taucht in verschiedensten Variationen auf: durch Literatur, Führungen oder auch multimedial – neuerdings meistens in Verbindung mit der sog. Gamification, und und und. Aber wie kann es problematisch sein, wenn das Angebot so groß ist? Für mich sind es drei Dinge, die mich an aktuellen Kunstvermittlungskonzepten stören:

  1. Es wirkt oft zu sehr gewollt und somit uninteressant. Bei vielen Konzepten merkt man einfach, dass auf Teufel komm raus versucht wurde, ein trockenes Thema für hip und cool zu verkaufen. Dinge, die einfach nie funktionieren, egal wie und wo.
  2. Es wird meist zu viel vom potentiellen Interessenten abverlangt. Jetzt mal ehrlich: Kurze Einführungen in die Thematik, die über zwei DIN A4-Seiten gehen und dann noch in Kunsthistorikersprech geschrieben sind? Nope. Not working.
  3. Das komplette Gegenteil zu 2: Das Niveau der potentiellen Interessenten wird zu niedrig eingeschätzt. Wer lässt denn sowas mit sich gefallen?!

Kunstvermittlung soll eine gute Einführung in die Thematik bieten, das Interesse erwecken und dabei, im besten Fall, schnell und kompakt Wissen vermitteln. Wer sich bereits für etwas interessiert, wird jedes weitere Angebot annehmen – so handhaben zumindest mein Umfeld und ich das.
Da stellt sich mir die folgende Frage: Besonders in Zeiten von Digitalisierung und Social-Media kann das doch gar nicht so schwer sein, oder? Anscheinend schon. Denn bis auf Ausnahmen wie das Städel, das seit einiger Zeit einen wirklich tollen Online-Kurs zur Moderne anbietet, und die Schirn, scheint keiner der Kunstinstitutionen das Internet mit all seinen Möglichkeiten so recht verstanden zu haben. Natürlich spielt Geld eine Rolle, doch viel wichtiger ist die Priorisierung: Digital & Social-Media sind wichtig und sollten nicht wie eine Nebensache behandelt werden.

So sehr mich das Thema wurmt, umso mehr freute ich mich damals, als ich den Instagram-Account von Jurgen Vermaire entdeckte. Auf @lets_talk_about_art stellt er nahezu täglich Kunstwerke vor und ordnet sie kurz im kunsthistorischen Kontext ein, manchmal passend zu aktuellen Neuigkeiten aus der Kunstwelt. Stets kurz, knapp, informativ und vor allem simpel. Von der Antike bis zu zeitgenössischen Werken wird alles thematisiert. Um regen Austausch in den Kommentaren wird gebeten, und das geschieht auch.
Ich bin wirklich begeistert, denn gerade das ist die Symbiose aus Kunstvermittlung und dem Zeitgeist des 21. Jahrhunderts, die ich mir immer wünsche. Schließlich schafft @lets_talk_about_art eben diesen Einstieg in die Kunstwelt. Man kann sich orientieren und finden; nicht jeder mag zeitgenössische Kunst (oder wie ich die Gartenkunst). Dank des einfachen Settings von Instagram kann man sich mal eben ein Bild suchen, was seiner Ästhetik entspricht, und etwas über das Werk erfahren, ohne sich durch viele Fremdwörter und wilde Literaturlisten kämpfen zu müssen. Oder eben andersrum versuchen zu verstehen, warum dieses Werk kunsthistorisch so geschätzt ist – oft sind es schließlich die Zusammenhänge, die das Werk so wichtig machen. Daher kann ich als Kunsthistorikerin guten Gewissens allen, die mich fragen „Angela, ich will mich mal ein bisschen in die Kunst einlesen. Sowas für Zwischendurch. Kannst du mir was empfehlen?“ den Account @lets_talk_about_art empfehlen.

Ob solche Accounts den Interessenten vom Besuch des Museums abhalten? Natürlich nicht. Warum nicht? Das diskutieren wir bald mal an anderer Stelle.

Fernand Léger, "Two Women Holding Flowers", 1954, Oil paint on canvas, 97 x 130 cm, Tate Modern, London. Fernand Léger, 1881-1955, was a French painter who was profoundly influenced by a retrospective of Paul Cézanne’s work at the Paris Salon d’Automne of 1907 and through poet Guillaume Apollinaire gained a connection with the Cubist movement. Léger had been painting in a style that mixed Impressionism with Fauvism. Under the influence of his new environment, he abandoned those styles for a more Cubist approach. At the time, Picasso and Braque’s Cubist style entailed fracturing forms into multiple intersecting planes; Léger adapted their techniques to break down forms into tubular shapes. His style was aptly nicknamed “tubism.” By 1913 Léger was painting a series of abstract studies he called Contrast of Forms. He created these paintings to illustrate his theory that the way to achieve the strongest pictorial effect was to juxtapose contrasts of colour, of curved and straight lines, and of solids and flat planes. The Card Party marked the beginning of Léger’s transition into what has been called his mechanical period, which was characterized by a fascination with motors, gears, bearings, furnaces, railway crossings, and factory interiors. He attempted to depict the beauty of urban life by portraying humans as geometric and mechanized figures integrated with their equally geometric and mechanized environments. In the mid-1920s Léger was associated with the French formalist movement called Purism, which had been launched by the painter Amédée Ozenfant and the painter-architect Le Corbusier. Purism was an attempt to strip Cubism of its decorative aspects; Léger consequently adopted flatter colours and bold, black outlines in his work. From then on, his art was essentially figurative, and the only significant change in his style occurred late in his career, during World War II, when he began to draw his figures in gray and black and to use bands of colour as abstract background elements. Léger often painted works showing two women together. The work in this picture is a perfect example of this theme and of his late style.

A photo posted by Jurgen Vermaire ? ? ? (@lets_talk_about_art) on

Michelangelo Buonarroti, "Moses", 1515, Marble, height 235 cm, San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome. Michelangelo Buonarroti, 1475-1564, was an Italian Renaissance sculptor, painter, architect, and poet who exerted an unparalleled influence on the development of Western art. He was considered the greatest living artist in his lifetime, and ever since then he has been held to be one of the greatest artists of all time. A number of his works in painting, sculpture, and architecture rank among the most famous in existence. Although the frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel are probably the best known of his works today, the artist thought of himself primarily as a sculptor. Michelangelo worked in marble sculpture all his life and in the other arts only during certain periods. In his quest for absolute truth in art, he abandoned a work when he felt he could not attain his ideal. He left the marks of his tools clearly visible on these works. They are living traces of his tireless fight with raw material, which he worked relentlessly in his quest to liberate the figure imprisoned within. Giorgio Vasari suggested that he did not complete certain compositions out of creative frustration, an idea, which has crystallised into the notion of the artist as troubled genius. Michelangelo created Moses, the centerpiece of the final and much reduced version of the tomb of Pope Julius II, between 1513 and 1516. Moses was originally meant for the upper part of a much larger monument where it would have been seen from below. This explains the figure's unusually long torso and overly dramatic expression. Under his arms he carries the tablets of the law, the stones inscribed with the Ten Commandments that he has just received from God on Mt. Sinai. Moses is clearly related to Michelangelo's mighty seated figures of prophets and sibyls on the Sistine ceiling. The horns upon the head of the figure are a curiosity of the Italian Renaissance. One of the biblical translations of "rays of light" became "horns" in Italian, and this mistranslation led to Moses being commonly portrayed with horns.

A photo posted by Jurgen Vermaire ? ? ? (@lets_talk_about_art) on

 

Claude Monet, "Women in the Garden", 1866, Oil on canvas, 255 x 205 cm, Musée d'Orsay, Paris. Claude Monet, 1840-1926, was a key figure in the Impressionist movement that transformed French painting in the 2nd half of the 19th century. Throughout his long career, Monet consistently depicted the landscape and leisure activities of Paris and its environs. He led the way to 20th century modernism by developing a unique style that strove to capture on canvas the very act of perceiving nature. His quest prompted him to reject European conventions governing composition, color, and perspective. Influenced by Japanese prints, Monet's asymmetrical arrangements of forms emphasized their 2D surfaces by eliminating linear perspective and abandoning 3D modeling. He brought a vibrant brightness to his works by using unmediated colors, adding a range of tones to his shadows, and preparing canvases with light-colored primers instead of the dark grounds used in traditional landscape paintings. In 1866, Claude Monet started painting a large picture in the garden of the property he was renting in the Paris suburbs. He faced a twofold challenge: firstly, working in the open-air, which meant lowering the canvas into a trench by means of a pulley so he could work on the upper part without changing his viewpoint; and secondly, working on a large format usually used for historical compositions. But his real aim was elsewhere: finding how to fit figures into a landscape and give the impression that the air and light moved around them. Monet found a solution by painting the shadows, coloured light, patches of sunshine filtering through the foliage, and pale reflections glowing in the gloom. The faces are left vague and cannot be considered portraits. Monet has skilfully rendered the white of the dresses, anchoring them firmly in the structure of the composition provided by the central tree and the path. Finished in the studio, the painting was refused by the jury of the 1867 Salon which, apart from the lack of subject and narrative, deplored the visible brushstrokes which it regarded as a sign of carelessness and incompleteness.

A photo posted by Jurgen Vermaire ? ? ? (@lets_talk_about_art) on

 

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