Simon Stone catapults his tragic, eponymous protagonist some two and a half millennia forward to the open plan home of a socially liberal middle class London family. Dads in expensive lycra, expensive bottles of red wine, and a wife’s frustration at her husband’s inability to call her anything but ‘babe’ furnish the set at the National Theatre’s Lyttelton, and the daily lives of Stone’s characters. Nevertheless, his take on Euripides’s Hippolytus is all Greek to me.

Phaedra is a member of Labour’s shadow cabinet named Helen (Janet McTeer). Her chaotic past visits her in the form of Sofiane (Assaad Bouab), the son of her former lover, who had died several decades previous while driving under the influence of drugs and alcohol in his native Morocco. The ending of Helen’s heady youth therefore coincided with that of her beloved Achraf. By the time we meet her she has long settled down with Hugo (Paul Chahidi), a polyglottal diplomat. Helen begins an ardent affair with Sofiane, in equal measures physical and romantic, before Sofiane forsakes her for her daughter Isolde (Mackenzie Davis), who is also married. Voice recordings which Achraf had left for Sofiane intersperse the narrative. (Believe it or not, I haven’t actually spoiled much.)

As did Seneca (1st century CE) and Racine (1677) in their adaptations of Euripides, Stone recentres the play on Phaedra, who is cursed by Aphrodite to love her stepson, rather than its object, Hippolytus. McTeer’s Helen is a captivating yet unlikeable hedonist. She leaves it unclear as to whether Helen’s destructive behaviour is a twofold demonstration of self-service and self-sabotage, or a pseudo-religious act of dedication to Achraf, whose death doubles as a secular deification. Bouab portrays Sofiane as the only presence of sincerity in modernity’s scramble, but other than his need to flee Morocco for political reasons, Stone does not flesh him out enough to know why he does what he does. The only suggestions are that he is either driven purely by desire or that he, like Helen, has deified his father, and – viewing Achraf’s voice recordings as a scripture of sorts – wishes to avenge him. Davis’s Isolde is borderline archetypical of a wealthy Londoner hot on social justice issues: her involvement with Sofiane mocks the hypocritical imperfection of the ‘woke’ stereotype instead of affording grace to a complex person.

Ironically, Stone’s development of the characters outside the love triangle is one of Phaedra’s highlights. Chahidi’s Hugo is charmingly inept, yet simultaneously the most charismatic and funny person on stage. His disappointment at his physique in running tights is so quotidian yet also poignant.  The affection between Isolde’s younger brother, Declan (Archie Barnes), and her husband, Eric (John MacMillan), is fantastically engineered. When Declan hears of their troubles, he hilariously rushes to be a shoulder for Eric to cry on. In tandem with Chahidi, the men’s fraternity strikes a pose of (mostly) positive masculinity that lends depth to the drama. Akiya Henry’s Omolara, another shadow cabinet member and a reimagining of the Greek chorus, reacts with appropriate shock to the tales from Helen’s affair. As a British-Nigerian and practising Christian, Omolara is both an outsider in Britain and Phaedra’s only representative of the Christian morality by which Middle England judges its metropolitan political class, but which that class rarely lives according to.

Phaedra’s greatest strengths and most glaring flaws lie in the fact that Stone has left its tragedy intact. He does not bring the Greek gods to our secular times, but without a higher power culpable for the intractable conflicts of sexual desire, the abject sadness of the events is far greater, and Helen’s ultimate death does not restore any cosmic order. However, while we recognise well the destructive power of burning love in the 21st century, some of the driving forces behind Phaedra feel shallow in a godless vacuum: why does Sofiane simultaneously pursue Helen and Isolde? Why, when faced with an ultimatum, does he choose Isolde over Helen? Why does Isolde, despite her outrage at Sofiane, begin a relationship with him in the knowledge that he has been sleeping with her mother? These questions remain inadequately answered.

Some of the questions Stone leaves us with result from slightly underdeveloped plots and characters; some are incisive. We learn nothing from Hugo suddenly speaking in Arabic to Sofiane, and the significance of Sofiane’s tepid observations on the relationship between coloniser and colonised are never elucidated. Equally, we never find out whether it is Sofiane’s design to inflict the same pain on Helen’s family which Helen inflicted on his own, nor do we know for sure whether Achraf’s car was sabotaged by Moroccan officials, as suggested by Helen, or crashed in the stupor of inebriation, as Sofiane believes.

Stone does not show us why humans continue to suffer at the hands of gods who don’t exist. Greek tragedy typically presents the complex and imperfect struggles of ignorant humans against the absolute, complete power of the gods; Stone’s Phaedra pits the modern supremacy of the individual against the grander narratives that try to fill the void left by religion.

Image : Assaad Bouab and Janet McTeer in Phaedra at the National Theatre. Photo by Johan Persson

Review by Cian Kinsella 

Cian is a Classics teacher and part-time pub quizmaster living in London who is primarily interested in music but is also interested in theatre, literature, and visual arts. He is particularly intrigued by the relationship between art, criticism, and the capital forces always at play. Furthermore, he believes that subjectivity – which is ultimately at the heart of all artistic and cultural criticism – should not be concealed, but probed and perhaps even celebrated. Who decides what we like? How do they construct widely held beliefs about what is good? These are two of the questions Cian looks to address.

Cian’s latest feature on Abundant Art Breakin’ Convention: Standing on the shoulders of hip hop giants – Abundant Art

Information and Tickets Phaedra | National Theatre

With figurative painting back in the mainstream grain of today’s contemporary art scene, Alice Neel: Hot Off The Griddle comes at the most perfect time for its audience. The largest exhibition to date of Neel’s work in the UK is currently on view at the Barbican till the 21^st of May 2023.

Living through and for her art, her paintings housed the social, exemplifying a process of ongoing [outward and self-] repair. Neel kept inventing ways to deal with what we have, truly gleeful about the world she was living in, and through her work, she emphatically answered the question of what is it all for if it isn’t our humanity. What inhabits all her paintings as she delves into the complex realities of personhood, taking the mick out of our conversations and so-called societal vices; is that she utterly persisted to document all the people who found their way to belong to her world. Neel painted the world as it was. She found the usually evading comfort in her life in front of a canvas with lucid brushwork, taunt marks, and paint that could be peeled, and washed away to start again. All the marks, layers, and colours, made for a renewed candour, and stories of lives that finally felt seen.

Never working in a professional studio, the sitters came charged with luring, the stretched lines flood out of each canvas allowing the viewer to enter her living room/studio, empathising with those depicted. The body is forever going somewhere else, as Neel rips through expectations of the female nude, flesh to flesh in all its glory. This is most significantly done with Self Portrait [1980], Neel’s first self-portrait, which was composed at age 80. Paintbrush in hand, Neel is unflinching, so much so that she glows. This is a welcome riot painted with a stare filled to the brim, doubly directed right back and straight through you. Rigor and passion are entrenched, and the liberal cadence in applying paint to make her image remained for a whole generation.

Shadows uncovered and painting done recklessly, the material world is exposed and mirrored through her work, heaving in a state of flux as times changed around her. The traditional family portrait is revisited and reckoned with throughout the exhibition and her career, one of the most notable examples is the work The Spanish family [1943]. Drawn explicitly from the living, she paints her close friend with her three young children, the sister of Negrόn, an ex-partner. Neel and the sitter are placed as equals and held with compassion. All the hours spent with the sitter are wholly felt in the work. A documentary plays on a loop at the near close of the exhibition which invites us into a portrait sitting. At this point, we can just breathe, as we have invited ourselves to an intimate, honest, and tactile transaction – to witness a true rogue in action.

One of the rarest portraits on display is Andy Warhol [1970], the breath held, and tension are unmistakable, as Warhol’s wounds and stitches are made incurable in their visibility. Warhol was a man who was visceral in his displeasure of his own physical appearance, yet submits and generates valour to be painted by Neel. This especially in such a vulnerable and no holds barred manner, is but a testament to his own reverence and respect towards Neel.

Figurative painting was waning in popularity during the 20^th-century art scene, but as tenacious as Neel was, she kept on representing people in their rebecoming. Elated to heights far above, catering to the shifting spaces of the living room, the surrounding cityscapes of Greenwich village, Spanish Harlem, and Havana. The exhibition tours these eras of Neel’s life and works as they are inextricably entwined.  These held spaces are all drawn from the people, most decisively within the portraits of those who shared her political commitments, like the intellectual Harold Cruse and the chairman of the Communist Party, Gus Hall painted in 1981. Neel carried her political activism right to the end of her life.

Never afraid of the white space, of left behind canvas not done up by a paintbrush, of any such process behind the lines being seen. The paint rather ate through and was made boldly bare to us. Take the example of the paintings Wellesley Girls [1967] or The Family (John Gruen, Jane Wilson, and Julia) [1970], any empty space is somehow full. Full of painted skin, these portraits are painted under a halo, skin laid bare by the brushwork, skin with a greenish tinge, see-through and clammy skin, and skin that blends with the background walls and sofa. The sitter is not favoured by told-tale vanity depictions. The flesh-to-flesh touch only for a cold draft to come through.

Honey-soaked open eyes, with a gaze unmatched, Annie Sprinkle [1982] is a portrait of sex activist and performance artist Annie Sprinkle. Neel is always explicit in her values, affirming such through a portrait like Annie Sprinkle of fully embracing one’s own sexuality and for more societal freedoms. Alice Neel as she self-describes a collector of souls; is made unmistakable, this fact made each time more evident the more rooms you wade through in this show.

This is part of the war, with Alice Neel’s keen eyes, a card-carrying communist she truly endeavoured to make bold strokes for the revolutions and revelations which plagued and celebrated her people and her place called home.

Image: Alice NeelSelf-Portrait,1980© The Estate of Alice Neel. Courtesy The Estate of Alice Neel

Review by Devika Pararasasinghe

Devika is currently living and working in London, by trade an artist and snake oil salesperson. Devika graduated, last September with a research MFA at Ruskin School of Art, University of Oxford.

Devika’s latest review Review: Spain and the Hispanic World-Royal Academy of Arts – Now on until 10 April – Abundant Art

Footnote:

Tickets and information Alice Neel: Hot Off The Griddle | Barbican

Exhibition Alice Neel: Hot Off The Griddle at Barbican Art Gallery is curated by Eleanor Nairne, assisted by Andrew de Brúnand Annabel Bai Jackson,and designed by Gatti Routh Rhodes with graphic design by Wolfe Hall.This exhibition was made possible with Art Fund support.The exhibition will tour to Munch, Oslo, from 2 September–26 November 2023, for more information visit:https://www.munchmuseet.no/om-oss/kontakt/Events

A dynamic programme of events will accompany the exhibition. Check the website for full listings as they are updated:http://www.barbican.org.uk/artgallery

A richly illustrated book Alice Neel: Hot Off The Griddle,edited by Eleanor Nairne, with essays by Eleanor Nairne, Hilton Als and poetry by Daisy Lafarge, accompanies the exhibition and is published by Prestel, March 2023 is available at the Barbican shop.

The Oyster Problem – By Orlando Figes, Director – Philip Wilson

The Oyster Problem follows Gustave Flaubert’s decline as he fights a disastrous case of writer’s block and lives in denial of his dangerously dwindling inheritance fund. Finally paying the price for his insatiable appetite for champagne and oysters, Flaubert struggles to accept that compromising his art may be the only way to save himself and his beloved niece from financial ruin. As Flaubert (Bob Barrett) and friends jarringly discuss their dislike for democracy, the threat of the ‘common herd’ and how money and market forces are corrupting the arts, ‘truth’ and ‘beauty’, an unmistakably romantic tone emerges, set against a backdrop of the late 1870s literary scene in Paris.

Jermyn Street theatre itself is a wonderfully intimate venue, which happens to work well for a production dominated by conversations around dinner tables and exchanges between close friends. The audience feel that they are part of these spirited discussions by virtue of being so close to the action.

The play feels a little too long at times, whilst being incredibly dense and wordy. Nevertheless, the rigour of the research evidently propping up the script and the precision of each line made Orlando Figes’s debut play admirable. The historical context is richly and thoughtfully created, unsurprising, since Figes is an esteemed Historian. It creates a vivid picture of the culture in which Flaubert and his friends lived. The trajectory of the play leaves the audience with a general impression of both the characters’ passion for the arts (as well as wine) and their grief as they see the world change.

In some sections where the pace dwindles and delivery feels self-conscious, one character stands out as strong, authentic and subtly amusing: the formidable George Sand (Norma Atallah). Sand’s no-nonsense approach and practical manner is a gasp of fresh air in comparison to Flaubert’s insistence that he wallow continuously in self-pity, perform self-aggrandizing speeches as a form of self-soothing and fight fictitious battles with imagined enemies. Sand promptly tells Flaubert to stop feeling sorry for himself and get to work. When Flaubert complains of a ‘sea of shit rising up the ivory tower’, she flatly replies that he will therefore just ‘have to learn to swim’.

Flaubert’s niece, Caroline Commanville (Rosalind Lailey), lives a life of self-sacrifice at the foot of her uncle’s pedestal, giving up her own significant talent as a painter for her uncle’s career as a writer.  However, moments of firm confrontation from Caroline hint at a steely will underpinning a polite and accommodating facade.

Heavily historical, dense and complete with actual props and a set, this play steers away from being “cool”, conceptual or contemporary, but it certainly stands out for its literary and biographical details and creates a rich and engaging context. By dramatising a biography of Flaubert’s later years, a sort of artistic manifesto for the writer is portrayed and his spirit, both inspiring and infuriating, is brought to life.

Image: Rosalind Lailey and Bob Barrett in The Oyster Problem, Photo by Steve Gregson

Review by Lucy Evans 

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Read Lucy’s latest review here Review: Making Modernism at the RA-Covers a range of emotions and themes from four phenomenal women artists of the 20th century-ends 12th February – Abundant Art

Footnote:

Madame Bovary made Gustave Flaubert the most famous writer in Paris, but thanks to a bad publishing deal he’s barely earned enough cash for a croissant – let alone enough to indulge his appetite for oysters. In fact, he’s flat broke. His friends Emile Zola, Ivan Turgenev and George Sand beg him to dumb down his work for the masses, but Gustave isn’t compromising. There’s only one thing for it – Flaubert must find a job.

Orlando Figes makes his playwriting debut with this snapshot of Paris’s 19th Century literary superstars. Orlando unearthed a series of captivating letters between Flaubert and Turgenev while researching his hit book The Europeans. The discovery of those letters was the starting point for this hilarious, poignant look at one of the greatest writers, as his friends knew him. Philip Wilson directs this dramatised comedy of literary fiascos. 

Orlando Figes says

‘I wrote this play, my first, as a hobby and experiment to see if I was any good at writing plays. It came out of my work on The Europeans, which dealt with the meeting between art and money in the age of the railways. I fell in love with Flaubert, as an artist and a man, through his letters to Turgenev and George Sand, who clearly loved him too. Their correspondence gave me the idea and some of the conversations of the play, which I hope will entertain and make us think again about the artist in the modern world’. 

BOX OFFICE – 020 7287 2875 and online at www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk

Action, Gesture, Paint-Women Artists and Global Abstraction 1940–70

Abstract Expressionism is a movement that immediately evokes two things: New York and a select group of well-known male artists. The current exhibition at the Whitechapel Gallery, ‘Action, Gesture, Paint: Women Artists and Global Abstraction 1940-70’, turns this typically narrow understanding of the movement on its head. By presenting a varied and rich contribution that women artists from across the world made to the development of mid-century abstraction, it unapologetically seeks to widen how we imagine this key period in art history.

Regardless of how you believe we should approach or phrase this project of re-defining the canon, the fact that the Whitechapel brings light to it at all is ultimately important for it to be taken more seriously, more widely. However, the risk of such an overtly canon-challenging exhibition is perhaps that it could falsely be understood as single-handedly ‘sorting the problem’, when really the project is definitely less straight-forward than the exhibition might suggest.

The most impressive aspect of the exhibition is the sheer scale and diversity of artists that are on view. The artwork of 81 international women artists is presented across the different gallery spaces according to five thematic groupings. They are not sorted by time period or geography. Hence, one can for instance view the work of the Pakistani artist Nasreen Mohamedi side by side the Italian artist Carol Rama and draw interesting visual connections. Individual context is provided to the artists and the information is certainly interesting and educational, although the repetitive nature of learning about individual artists becomes slightly limiting after one has absorbed the central objective of the exhibition – yes, there are a lot of women artists about which we probably don’t know. Connections between artists of the same region, for example, between the Argentinian artists Marta Minujín and Sarah Grillo aren’t touched on. In this case, some attention towards common struggles and contexts to which Minujín and Grillo were exposed would open up the space for one to consider their unique artistic outputs with more seriousness and interest. Not only might an effort of this kind have enriched and aided a sense of historical importance towards the work presented, but I think it would have also helped the viewer to absorb the information about all of these new artists more easily.

In this vein, although the range of artists is impressive, it made me feel overwhelmed and disorientated, worried that I wasn’t giving attention to them all. The vague thematic categories such as ‘Being, Expression, Empathy’ arguably don’t provide the structure needed confronted with a plethora of new artists. The gallery space also feels crowded with art, which led me to sense, on behalf of the exhibition, an anxiety towards their gaol of demonstrating just how many women artists we have missed. Tightly grouped together, with no space to give the works prolonged attention, I can’t help but think how a Pollock and a Rothko would never be presented like this.

Almost too eager to present the forgotten women artists, without acknowledging how and why we’ve failed to consider them in the past, ignoring the nuanced and overlapping histories that makes them special in their own right, and not elevating them to the viewing standard one expects with great Abstract Expressionist art, I personally left the exhibition feeling like it didn’t manage to instil in art by women the legitimacy it deserves.

To study the contribution of women artists or, for that matter, any figures ignored by history, part of the programme has to make an effort to adopt fresh methodologies. If we blindly reveal something for it to only be re-inserted into the canon surely we’re missing the point. Against the backdrop of the recent launch of Katy Hassel’s award-winning book, The Story of Art Without Men, we need to be transparent about how much individual efforts such as these contribute towards the goal we are ultimately seeking to reach for art history. Clear on this, then please go and be impressed by a sea of great art that you may not have seen before!

Review by Michela Giachino

Since studying History of Art at The University of Oxford Michela has continued to pursue her interests in art and culture. She particularly enjoys considering how contemporary and historical art forms are presented to the wider public through exhibitions and viewings at art institutions. Michela’s favourite mediums include photography, film, painting and drawing, and she is always excited to learn about new art.

Image Credit – Damian Griffiths, Whitechapel Gallery

Read Michela’s latest review here Film Review: Creature – ‘a dynamic fusion of creative forms’- Releases 24 February 2023 – Abundant Art

Tickets and information Action, Gesture, Paint – Whitechapel Gallery

Footnote:

The exhibition features well-known artists associated with the Abstract Expressionism movement, including American artists Lee Krasner (1908-1984) and Helen Frankenthaler(1928 2011), alongside lesser-known figures such as Mozambican-Italian artist Bertina Lopes(1924-2012) and South Korean artist Wook-kyung Choi (1940-1985). More than half of the works have never before been on public display in the UK.

Treasures from the Hispanic Society Museum & Library

The narrative is hefty throughout this masterful exhibition, as an entire museum collection has journeyed all the way to the Royal Academy of Arts, a truly unmissable treasure haul from Manhattan’s Hispanic Society Museum and Library.

Giving away narrative, this exhibition is an expansive trail through the history of the Hispanic World, a coordinated sprawl that tales a chronological tour from 2400 BC, it is guided room by room all the way to the closing remarks of the founding of the Hispanic Society of America in 1904 which is followed by the Hispanic Society’s exhibition in 1909.

The first room opens to the ancient marble bust statues, though really feeling as if rendered out of wax and as if lit by candlelight from above. The craftsmanship exhibited, detailed in its crowned armour is equal measure utterly ostentatious and compliantly a requiem for a dream – and it couldn’t dare to be anything less. This presentation invites all-endeavoured rhetoric, an adventured spiritual through the trials, and emblazed iconography of ample vested objects, ornamented creatures, fresco cycles, silks, and paintings, to the very utilitarian pill jars and writing boxes. This feeds the full plane of my vision, but as a list feels almost innumerable to catalogue, and would only be a disservice to do so. The tin-glazed Earthenware with cobalt and lustre, marble-enamelled glass, manuscripts, and wood sculptures invariably in their display becomes a prized study of museology within its revered objecthood sorted for display in cabinets and frames. This true artisan and severe decorative skill, specifically around ceramics, was fostered and flourished in the 14^th and 15^th centuries. But dually go with equal consequence as a loss of authorship and place with many unknown artists and practitioners housing much of the rooms.

Displayed during the first quarter of the exhibition, the fluid intersection between the Christian, Jewish, and Islamic faith practices meant the religious iconography not only delved deep as a mediation on fellowship but conversed with great intention, penance, polyvocality, and piety. The rooms then follow to tour Colonial Latin America, its people, and places, – the traded world of Turkey, Bolivia, Mexico, Peru, and further. The varied catastrophic consequences are most evidently shown through these incomplete maps, the caustic hand of the cartographer’s line made this World Map [1526] displayed to our viewer’s eye as truly nothing but a map of fictions and dangerous falsehoods.

There are also many surprises, my own gaze changed when the work of the immaculate El Greco is present with Portrait Miniature of a Man c. [1586-90] as a work of oil on cardboard: the most delicate miniature of miniatures is painted on such a discretionary and forgetful material. A twin is found in the final room with Joaquin Sorolla’s installation plans [1911] and painting composites for Vison of Spain, which found a base on the very cardboard used to stiffen shirts from his NY laundry spot.

Andrea de Mena’s polychrome wood sculptures Mater Dolorosa [1675] and Ecce Homo [1675] never stall to evoke consumed suffering with the sculpture’s deep sunken eyes, the wounding entrenched. But not only do these polychrome woodworks get shown mirrored by indigenous artists, a pushed-back reflection on their stolen ground, on a beguiled smeary interconnectedness. These indigenous artists were employed to dress the decorative arts in the traditions of a certain Eurocentric style to satisfy European tastes. Take Manuel Chili’s The Four fates of Man: Death, Soul in Hell, Soul in Purgatory, Soul in Heaven [1775] as an example of an undimmed reciprocal, and more so rather a new language swapping out vowels in such rhythmic synchronicity. The objects are haptic. The painting The Wedding at Cana [1696] travels this notion further, by artist Nicolás de Correa as an irrevocable masterpiece inlaid with mother of pearl, – its eclipsed making broke the centre of my view in a room full of emboldened religious art.

A rare sight out of Manhattan but never really lulled out of view; the title image for this very exhibition, the nicknamed Black Duchess is in full view from another room with her forgiving salubrious eyes. Goya made her eyes simmer, and as at the midpoint of this exhibition’s journey, The Duchess of Alba [1797] writes in the sand before her ‘Solo Goya’ [Only Goya’] – is this an address for a calamitous submission or a wishful call of true love? Her rings seal the names, ‘Goya’ and ‘Alba’ respectively pointing favour to the latter of a glazed desire – but we’ll never really know. Open and fully promised expression, Zuloago’s paintings follow Goya’s tradition with works The Family of the Gypsy Bullfighter [1903], and Lucienne Bréval as Carmen [1908] glowing with warm tones of cadmium red, yellow ochre, and luminescent undertones blush of cadmium yellow light and phthalo-blue sear through the paint. This seals the development of new traditions of Spain in the coming 20^th Century.

Even under shallow focus, this exhibition is one for the calendar. This treasure elixir of a show confounds surprise objects, and author-unknown craftsmanship, with historical works from seemingly the full geological strata. This wholly sublime collection made willing for your viewership finds the Royal Academy as temporary turf until the 10^th of April 2023.

Image: Hermenegildo Anglada Camarasa, Girls of Burriana (Falleras), 1910-11, Oil on canvas, 166 x 208 cm, On loan from The Hispanic Society of America, New York, NY

Review by Devika Pararasasinghe

Devika is currently living and working in London, by trade an artist and snake oil salesperson. Devika graduated, last September with a research MFA at Ruskin School of Art, University of Oxford.

Devika’s latest piece In Conversation-artist Molly Erin McCarthy and curator Julia Greenway about Zabludowicz Collection Invites-McCarthy’s solo debut now on until 26th Feb (abundantart.net)

For more information and tickets Spain and the Hispanic World | Exhibition | Royal Academy of Arts

Footnote:

Founded in New York in 1904, the Hispanic Society Museum & Library is home to the most extensive collection of Spanish art outside of Spain. Presented for the first time in the UK, it will offer visitors a chance to trace the great diversity of cultures and religions – from Celtic to Islamic, Jewish and Christian – that have shaped and enriched what we today understand as Spanish culture.

Supported by The Magic Trust, Crankstart Foundation and Ömer Koç, with additional support from the Embassy of Spain, London, and the Dr Lee MacCormick Edwards Charitable Foundation.

It is a delight to see the Kew Gardens’ Orchid Festival again this year within the familiar surroundings of Princess of Wales Conservatory. This year the festival is based on the inspiration of the biodiversity of Cameroon. One of those African countries which is not very well known, let alone the unique plant species. It is surprising to learn that in Ebo Forest in Cameroon, 14 new plant species have been discovered recently, but sadly a recording is made of over 75 species endangered, amongst them some rare orchids.

In the conservatory one is surrounded by, apart from the stunning orchids of all sizes and colours, with huge sculptures of wildlife of Cameroon in a native landscape. These objects are decorated with beautiful orchids and grasses. Amongst them the giraffe, peering down from above, beautified with the colourful and mesmerising orchids is truly eye-catching. The colours of the orchids so varied, and the patterns so intricate, that it is impossible to avoid amazement and spiritual contemplation!

The flora and fauna of Cameroon provide an amazing variety of plants to delight the senses. Along with this the designers have created an exquisite horticultural display which also leaves a lasting impression.

The entire exhibition comes together with vibrant colours, exquisite beauty as well as the lovely scents of orchids. Decorating the sculptures with plants – in this case mainly orchids- seems to be a developing art form which appeals to all age groups.

Image: Henck-Roling-in-house-florist-at-Kew-Gardens-at-the-Orchid-Festival-2023-c-RBG-Kew

Written by Betula Nelson, friend and generous supporter of Abundant Art

Footnote: 

Inspired by the biodiversity of Cameroon 

Horticultural displays and living plant sculptures throughout the Princess of Wales Conservatory  

Curated photography exhibition from Bikoka Art Project 

Showcase of RBG Kew’s collaborative scientific projects in Cameroon 

£1 entry for recipients of Universal Credit, Pension Credit and Legacy Benefits 

Supported by Cazenove Capital 

For more information visit Kew Gardens’ iconic Orchid festival returns for 2023 | Kew

Visit Abundant Art reviews here Review Page | Abundant Art

A queer historical romance written by a talented new playwright (Ruby Thomas) at a trendy and reputable fringe theatre (Hampstead) – what more could you want? Well, as it turns out, quite a lot more. A clipped, panto-style courtship begins a whimsical romance before a sombre second half severely alters the tone, leaving the audience with a narrative propelled by inevitability and doom. This tragic narrative arc is perhaps an accurate trajectory for a historical exploration of lived queer experience, but, as a piece of theatre, it doesn’t offer up much in the way of cliff-hangers or surprise for the audience, who sense that this can only, unavoidably, end one way. Despite the pitfalls in the narrative structure, the sparkling characters in this play are amusing and memorable, both brave and bawdy and sharp and articulate, Linck & Mülhahn are a power couple we all should know about.

Owen Horsley’s production, set in eighteenth-century Prussia, follows the true story of Anastasius Linck – an individual who, after it is discovered that they were assigned female gender at birth but is presenting as male, is trialled along with their wife, Mülhahn, for illicit sexual relations (and secondarily for desertion as a soldier). Ruby Thomas’s play is based on the real transcript from the trial in 1721. In this document, Linck comments that ‘even if (I am) done away with, those who are like (me will) remain’. Linck’s words are a reminder that queer (and specifically non-binary) people have always existed, even if the law has not recognised these identities as real.

The first half is fun, charming and genuinely funny. The music is notably well-chosen and acts as an effective anachronistic element of the production, giving the historical narrative a contemporary feel. Helena Wilson, playing the rebellious Catharina Mülhahn, stands out with her apparently inextinguishable energy, quirky humour and rebellious nature. Lucy Black as her mother adds brilliant (although melodramatic) humour, whilst the ‘Spinster’, Marty Cruickshank, provides contrasting depth and feeling as the wiser and older Mülhahn, doubling as an omniscient narrator – a device which is interesting similar to the omnipresent Virgina Woolf(s) in the Garrick’s recent Orlando.

Maggie Bain, as Anastasius Linck, is, at first, dashing and charming – a smooth-talker and a charismatic soldier; he is as popular amongst his fellow Prussian troops as he is amongst the women. However, soon enough, Linck’s suave and charm start to appear overly stylised and wooden. What’s more, their energy levels seem to dissipate in the presence of Linck, who falls so intensely in love without an apparently reciprocal level of passion from Linck. Indeed, the love story felt shallow and tongue-in-cheek, as if catching laughs from the audience took precedence over a convincing courtship. For example, Linck’s words of agreement when Mülhahn suddenly suggests marriage, are: “F*** it, let’s do it!”. This comic tone would not have been a problem (quite the opposite) if it had been maintained, but the seriousness of the second half felt unconvincing after such an ironic opening.

This dynamic and fluid first half, with its swiftly executed scenes and entertaining dance vignettes, is followed by a slow-moving second half, largely dominated by the court case. The courtroom scene features arbitrary moments of blaring punk paired with strobe lighting between each witness. Is this a reference to the first half and its mood of fun, rebellion and frivolity, or is it a foreboding reference to danger and a symbol for panic? Whatever its purpose, these brief interludes are a jarring distraction. The previously slick and witty humour seems suddenly to be replaced by irrelevant and simplistic jokes and the verbal sparring changes into slow dialogue. However, the macho humour between the men in the courtroom acts as an effective contrast to the flirtatious and unconventional exchanges between Linck and Mülhahn.

In the final scene, as Linck and Mülhahn speak across the adjoining wall of their prison cells, Linck’s tone becomes self-aggrandizing and overly formal, as if reciting a sermon or political speech. Linck’s final speech before death is not full of distress, as expected, but imbued with a calm stoicism which reflects their martyred sense of purpose in dying for a cause they have lived for their whole life. Linck’s fortitude and apparent acceptance in the face of death seem so superhuman that it leaves the audience detached from the emotion of Linck’s tragic fate.

Linck, literally living as a man in a man’s world all their life, has had to hide their vulnerability and perfect their outward presentation for years, never letting their guard down for fear of being “found out”. In this final scene, it would have been a good moment for another side of Linck to have been revealed: a vulnerable and messy Linck, who doesn’t need to “perform” for the outside world.

The play develops from a romantic period piece to a polemic. Altogether, the two halves feel disjointed in tone and the narrative seems to serve primarily as a vehicle for expressing the play’s philosophical agenda, rather than a fully rounded story in itself. Nonetheless, one does glean a valuable insight into the fascinating, though tragic, biography of Anastasius Linck, and the joy of the first half acts as a glimmer of hope and a touchstone for the queer community, highlighting the progress made but also the continued need for tolerance and understanding.

Image: Helena-Wilson and Maggie Bain in Linck & Mulhahn Credit-Helen Murray

Review by Lucy Evans

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Lucy’s latest review here Review: The Oyster Problem – Gustave Flaubert pays the price for his insatiable appetite for champagne and oysters – Jermyn Street Theatre until 4 March – Abundant Art

Information and tickets

Maggie Bain (who plays Linck) interviewed by Ham&High

Asif Kapadia’s film based on the acclaimed production of English National Ballet, choreographed by Akram Khan

As the director of many well-known films such as Senna, Amy, or The Warrior, this recent film by Asif Kapadia is an entirely different kind of project. Creatures comes from his choice to make a film from a contemporary dance production by the English National Ballet, choreographed by Akram Khan, at a time in which it was being rehearsed but unable to be performed during the height of the pandemic.

With no prior experience with dance, Kapadia found in the performance themes that pertain to his realm of filmography: grief, drama, euphoria, love, and hence describes the project as actualising a film that already existed before him. In fact, as someone who doesn’t come from a dance background myself, I found Creatures to be a highly emotionally engaging watch. Fusing performance, music, and filmography, the talent on screen and that which brings them to our eyes are both made absolutely inescapable.

At heart Creatures is a love story set in a dystopian world. Although the setting is un-specified, throughout there are background references to tangible dystopian truths of our own world, such as to rising sea levels and rising carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere. A sense of the all-powerful nature of a vast and sovereign outer world, which might serve as home to any number of delicate inner worlds, removes any hope for change in this regard and, l found, it largely sets the tone for the whole production.

In the foreground, through stunning sequences of contemporary dance, the core of the story brings forth themes of sexual harassment, war and violence, love and rejection, which are made believable through Kapadia’s ability to draw our attention to details. The deep breathing of the dancers as they focus in a moment of stillness, or the contraction of their muscles as they pose, dance becomes more than movement in space, and is rather conveyed as a manner to witness life on screen.

The fusion of creative forms in Creatures makes one feel the tragic un-fairness of life. Beautiful in many ways, I came out with an appreciation of how dance and film can be extensions of one another.

Review by Michela Giachino

Since studying History of Art at The University of Oxford Michela has continued to pursue her interests in art and culture. She particularly enjoys considering how contemporary and historical art forms are presented to the wider public through exhibitions and viewings at art institutions. Michela’s favourite mediums include photography, film, painting and drawing, and she is always excited to learn about new art.

Read Michela’s latest review here Review: Gaining a greater perspective on Giorgio Morandi’s art-practice and legacy-Masterpieces from the Magnani-Rocca Foundation – Abundant Art

Making Modernism at the Royal Academy of Arts brings together a varied collection of 68 works which together feature a wide range of themes, styles and visual languages. Each of the main four artists included in this exhibition – Paula Modersohn-Becker, Käthe Kollwitz, Gabriele Münter and Marianne Werefkin, have strikingly different and distinctive styles despite the fact that they all engaged, to differing extents, with Expressionism in Germany in the early twentieth century. Modersohn-Becker, in my opinion, provides the most radical and iconic imagery of the exhibition, possessing such a memorable and unique way of making pictures and painting figures – most notably herself.

The exhibition has clearly had a hard task of bringing together the 68 works and the four main artists into a selection of coherent narratives and themes. Indeed, it is hard not to feel that the themes provided for each room (of which there were only three) were too broad for the works themselves. The themes were: Ourselves and Others, The Century of the Child, Intimacy, City, Town and Country, and ‘Still Lives’. The actual paintings (and the one beautiful sculpture by Kollwitz) were surprising, shocking, agonising, sensual and intriguing, but the frameworks provided for interpretation were not particularly helpful, primarily because of their vagueness as they attempted to cover large themes across time and the biographies of all four individuals at once.

The self-portraits in the first room were brilliant. Kollwitz’s self-portrait from 1889, produced in ink, was incredibly captivating both because of how self-assured Kollwitz looks, and because of the striking contrast between the fine, agitated lines on her face (presumably done with pen) and the smooth washes of ink used to draw her body (presumably done with a brush). Modersohn-Becker’s self-portrait with lemon, 1906-7, is concise both in its size and in its vision: the work is narrow, small and cropped, with a focus on the face and Modersohn-Becker’s one hand, which holds the lemon. One of the points of genius in this work is its use of colour. The colours are warm and harmonious, and yet the surface bursts with surprising layers and contrasts, one example of which is the combination of ochre and bright blue used to form the iconically large eyes.

One of the most brilliant characteristics of Modersohn-Becker’s works is their quality of mystery. In her self-portrait from 1906-7, the mystery lies in the presentation of a lemon as if it were a trophy, the darker shade of bruised purple used for the face, which jarringly contrasts with the pale tone of the body, and the diverted eyes, which make you want to find out what is being looked at.

Münter’s Self-portrait from 1908 isn’t the most confident of the self-portraits on display, but in terms of paint, I found it the most exciting.  The work is painted loosely on cardboard in an endless array of somehow miraculously harmonious colours. Thick and vigorous brush marks don’t distract from how tender and searching the eyes are, but instead add to the mood of intense longing and inquisition.

The set of interiors which followed were beautiful, intimate and featured some of my favourite works in the exhibition. Werefkin’s interior featuring two men leaning on either side of a fireplace is both comical and beautiful. The lines and brush marks in the painting are delicate and loose, and though a painting, the whole scene has a graphic, story-telling quality as if a satirical comic in a newspaper. As the exhibition went on, it was evident that this humour and irony could be found in all of Wereffkin’s works, which was a nice contrast to the profound themes of grief and suffering in Kollwitz’s works.

Münter ’s interior scenes were reminiscent of the lives of the Bloomsbury set – paintings featuring socialising paired with intellectual conversation in pleasant (domestic) settings. Münter ’s Kandinsky at the Table (sketch), from 1911, was one of my favourite works because of its abstract nature and the focus on colour and simplified forms, which locates it firmly in the territory of modernism.

The next room focused on the motif of mother and child. This room felt profound, emotive and genuinely moving, not least because of Kollwitz’s portrayal of a mother clinging to a dead child. Indeed, the seriousness of Kollwitz’s inquiry into human suffering is hard to absorb, since the emotion in her works is so raw and unflinching. Kollwitz’s Head of a Child in its Mother’s Hands, 1900, drawn in pencil, is exquisite. This room was particularly important as it represented female subjectivity within the narrative of Modernism.

The final room was the least effective and engaging for me. The theme City, Town and Country felt redundant, and the works were all so different that it felt a bit like the leftovers had all been put together in one gallery. One artist, however, stood out. Werefkin’s highly saturated paintings of towns, mountains and imaginary, symbolic landscapes burst with vivid colours and often had a hallucinatory quality, whilst also appearing isolated and slightly haunted. Two beautiful sketchbook pages of Marianne Werefin’s are displayed, but there is otherwise a lack of supporting ephemera, more of which could have enriched what was a fascinating but fairly small and minimal exhibition. These works together brush the surface of women who were making modernism in the early twentieth century. I can only imagine how incredible it would be to have exhibitions dedicated to each of these phenomenal artists individually.

Image: Käthe Kollwitz, Woman with Dead Child, 1903. Etching on paper, 42.4 x 48.6 cm. © Käthe Kollwitz Museum Köln. (provided by the RA)

Tickets: Making Modernism | Exhibition | Royal Academy of Arts

Review by Lucy Evans

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Read Lucy’s latest review here Review: Mother Goose, Hackney Empire – packed with puns and full of contagious energy (abundantart.net)

Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art-6^th January – 30^th April 2023

The classic way to make endless hours of still life drawing marginally more engaging, at least at my school growing up days, was to use Giorgio Morandi’s paintings as references for these classes. As a painter who confidently brought the genre of still life into the 20^th century without hesitation, he has almost become a symbol of how the genre can be viewed as modern and newly stimulating, even cool.

The current exhibition at the Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art  brings together a broad range of Morandi’s paintings pertaining to the Magnani-Rocca Foundation, which was set up by Luigi Magnani in 1977 as way of making his years of collecting accessible to the public. The exhibition is therefore not an attempt at presenting a revolutionary argument about the artist (typical to contemporary artist retrospective exhibitions), instead focuses on the story behind how the specific collection on view came about and the fondness Luigi Magnani held for Morandi’s work, ultimately as a way of relaying the artist’s legacy.

I personally greatly enjoyed this stripped backed nature of the exhibition’s curatorial arch. The viewer is invited to simply absorb unseen artworks by the artist side-by-side some of his most recognisable pieces. The grander oil on canvas paintings are complemented by an array of his etchings, drawings and watercolours which reveal so much about Morandi’s artistic methods. For example, many of the sketches demonstrate the potential for abstraction he found in simple objects, giving power to negative shapes and blurring boundaries between forms. The collection also features landscapes, as well as a rare self-portrait.

Since the Magnani collection includes works from many well-known modernists, at times, the exhibition draws connections between Morandi and Cezanne. However, these connections result slightly unevidenced. Since mentioned, it would have for instance been interesting to know more about this tie.

However, other than this, no real novel ideas are revealed about the artist – the exhibition reads that Morandi wanted to “unlock the magical poetic qualities of everyday object” against the context of Italian Futurism and the historical pursuit for a modernity.

Some might therefore argue that there lacks a critical edge to the exhibition, however, by opting against a trendy critical approach one is invited to fully embrace the known “meditative” qualities of his work, and fill in knowledge gaps in the process. I felt as though I was picking up from where I left off in school. Through the exhibition at the Estorick Collection I discovered some facts unknown to me. I learnt about Morandi’s friendship with Luigi Magnani and about his un-assuming approach to art-making, for example, how he created art with no intention of selling; and ultimately, I did come out of it thinking that it was pretty cool how he was recognised by this important collector at the time.

Image: Giorgio-Morandi-Still-Life-with-Six-Objects-1930

Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art www.estorickcollection.com

Review by Michela Giachino

Since studying History of Art at The University of Oxford Michela has continued to pursue her interests in art and culture. She particularly enjoys considering how contemporary and historical art forms are presented to the wider public through exhibitions and viewings at art institutions. Michela’s favourite mediums include photography, film, painting and drawing, and she is always excited to learn about new art.

Read Michela’s latest review here Film Review: ENYS MEN-Surreal Nature as Aesthetic Thriller – Abundant Art

Footnote:

To mark its25th anniversary, the Estorick Collection is proud to present an exhibition of works by the major 20th-century artist Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964). For the first time, the entire Morandi collection from Italy’s Magnani-Rocca Foundation will be shown together in the UK. Featuring 50 works spanning the artist’s career, it includes oil paintings, watercolours, drawings and prints. The Estorick’s own collection of works by Morandi will also be on display at the museum.

Read more about Giorgio Morandi at www.estorickcollection.com/the-collection/giorgio-morandi