Sonia Delauney: Chasing Rainbows
Ever go to an exhibition and think, "Hey, I can do that." If the passivity of being an art grazer is getting you down, you might want to join the kids enjoying the latest innovation at the Urawa Museum of Art, a hands-on drawing room.
After viewing the current exhibition of colorful abstracts by Sonia Delaunay (1885-1979), you can get your creative juices flowing by picking up pencil, crayon, scissors, or glue, to express whatever it is you've just absorbed. Or maybe, like one little girl, you'd just prefer to draw your favorite bunny.
This is the second time the museum, which serves a younger demographic than Central Tokyo, has provided this excellent service; the first being the "Forms and Movements in 20th Century Art" exhibition last year, which featured such giants of abstract art as Kandinsky, Mondrian, and Jean Arp. Sonia Delaunay doesn't quite occupy the same heights in the abstract art pantheon, but, in partnership with her husband, Robert (1885-1941), she played an important part in the early history of abstract art and has even been cited as one of the inspirations of Op Art.
In 1912, two years after they married, the Delaunays, along with other artists dissatisfied with the dry color aesthetic of Cubism, founded a new movement, which the Symbolist poet, Guillaume Apollinaire, soon christened Orphism for the lyrical, shimmering chromatic effects they tried to bring into their art. Although Robert has traditionally been viewed as the prime mover in their partnership, and was indeed the more technically gifted of the two, Sonia, reviving memories of the brightly-colored peasant costumes and folk art of her native Ukraine, played an equal role in developing their avant-garde theories of color. They saw color as the dominant element in the creation of form and equated it, as Kandinsky did, with sound and music.
Sonia also devoted herself to the application of their aesthetic beyond the realm of fine arts to the decorative arts, expressing her vivid geometric shapes not only through paintings, but also through her influential designs for stage costumes, fashions and fabrics. The affinity of her art for fabrics is revealed most strongly in Eclipse (1970), a large wool hanging where the warm, glowing colors are enhanced by the fuzzy texture of the material.
The brightness and warm simplicity of her vibrant blocks, circles, and rainbow-like rings of color are ideal for stimulating the creative urges of children as curator Mami Yoshimoto explains.
"When children see classical art it's like a lecture at school. Especially in Japan. It's very reverential. But when they see modern or abstract art their feelings can respond more freely. Because Sonia designed clothes as well, teenagers also feel she is very close to their lives."
Developing young people's affinity with art is a very laudable goal, but isn't the whole appeal of modern art the fact that it represents a 'dumbing down' of art from the skillful symphony of complex factors that was the hallmark of 19th century academic art?
"Modern or abstract art is simpler in terms of technique," Yoshimoto agrees. "But it is actually harder to comprehend or understand, so, on the conceptual level, I wouldn't say it is easier."
As Yoshimoto suggests, Delaunay's work, despite its apparent simplicity, remains enigmatic. It is perhaps even willfully esoteric. Although leading the life of a Jewish fugitive in WWII France, there is no indication of this trauma in her work. All we get from this period are bright, baffling, optimistic splashes of color like her fruity Composition, No 127a (1943). In its own quaint way, this can be seen as a form of 'holocaust denial' or at least escapism.
The titles of many of Sonia's works reflect musical terminology, such as the impressive Colored Rhythm (1946). With the right computer program to translate these sweeping curves and colors into notes and harmonies, this work actually looks like it could be transformed into quite a listenable piece of music. Barring that you can always use your aural imagination. Perhaps to get the best out of this exhibition you need to be a synesthete, someone whose senses are interchangeable to the extent that they can "hear" colors - or an impressionable child with an thirst to scribble.
C.B.Liddell
The Japan Times
30th January, 2002
After viewing the current exhibition of colorful abstracts by Sonia Delaunay (1885-1979), you can get your creative juices flowing by picking up pencil, crayon, scissors, or glue, to express whatever it is you've just absorbed. Or maybe, like one little girl, you'd just prefer to draw your favorite bunny.
This is the second time the museum, which serves a younger demographic than Central Tokyo, has provided this excellent service; the first being the "Forms and Movements in 20th Century Art" exhibition last year, which featured such giants of abstract art as Kandinsky, Mondrian, and Jean Arp. Sonia Delaunay doesn't quite occupy the same heights in the abstract art pantheon, but, in partnership with her husband, Robert (1885-1941), she played an important part in the early history of abstract art and has even been cited as one of the inspirations of Op Art.
In 1912, two years after they married, the Delaunays, along with other artists dissatisfied with the dry color aesthetic of Cubism, founded a new movement, which the Symbolist poet, Guillaume Apollinaire, soon christened Orphism for the lyrical, shimmering chromatic effects they tried to bring into their art. Although Robert has traditionally been viewed as the prime mover in their partnership, and was indeed the more technically gifted of the two, Sonia, reviving memories of the brightly-colored peasant costumes and folk art of her native Ukraine, played an equal role in developing their avant-garde theories of color. They saw color as the dominant element in the creation of form and equated it, as Kandinsky did, with sound and music.
Sonia also devoted herself to the application of their aesthetic beyond the realm of fine arts to the decorative arts, expressing her vivid geometric shapes not only through paintings, but also through her influential designs for stage costumes, fashions and fabrics. The affinity of her art for fabrics is revealed most strongly in Eclipse (1970), a large wool hanging where the warm, glowing colors are enhanced by the fuzzy texture of the material.
The brightness and warm simplicity of her vibrant blocks, circles, and rainbow-like rings of color are ideal for stimulating the creative urges of children as curator Mami Yoshimoto explains.
"When children see classical art it's like a lecture at school. Especially in Japan. It's very reverential. But when they see modern or abstract art their feelings can respond more freely. Because Sonia designed clothes as well, teenagers also feel she is very close to their lives."
Developing young people's affinity with art is a very laudable goal, but isn't the whole appeal of modern art the fact that it represents a 'dumbing down' of art from the skillful symphony of complex factors that was the hallmark of 19th century academic art?
"Modern or abstract art is simpler in terms of technique," Yoshimoto agrees. "But it is actually harder to comprehend or understand, so, on the conceptual level, I wouldn't say it is easier."
As Yoshimoto suggests, Delaunay's work, despite its apparent simplicity, remains enigmatic. It is perhaps even willfully esoteric. Although leading the life of a Jewish fugitive in WWII France, there is no indication of this trauma in her work. All we get from this period are bright, baffling, optimistic splashes of color like her fruity Composition, No 127a (1943). In its own quaint way, this can be seen as a form of 'holocaust denial' or at least escapism.
The titles of many of Sonia's works reflect musical terminology, such as the impressive Colored Rhythm (1946). With the right computer program to translate these sweeping curves and colors into notes and harmonies, this work actually looks like it could be transformed into quite a listenable piece of music. Barring that you can always use your aural imagination. Perhaps to get the best out of this exhibition you need to be a synesthete, someone whose senses are interchangeable to the extent that they can "hear" colors - or an impressionable child with an thirst to scribble.
C.B.Liddell
The Japan Times
30th January, 2002
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