Chess - A Game of History and Charm: The Lewis Chessmen

My favorite little men are coming to New York - The Game of Kings: Medieval Ivory Chessmen from the Isle of Lewis opens at the Cloisters on November 15. Bug-eyed Kings dismayed at the prospect of close and bloody combat, Queens holding worried faces, Soldiers so eager to begin that they bite their shields in anticipation, Bishops gripping their croziers, Horsemen hunched and ready: these little ivory creatures give us a world that faded long ago, though their iconic battle persists and endures in the game of chess. It is a fact that these delicate but vigorously carved ivory creatures were found in 1831 on the Scottish Isle of Lewis. It's agreed that they date from around the 11th century (partly attested by the style of the Bishop's miter) but beyond that almost all is speculation. Are they Icelandic, or Norwegian, for whom were they created, by whom were they used? The pieces have so much personality; it's frustrating that they can't tell more of their story. The game of chess predates these 'men', which are likely pieces from four sets - some are now in the National Museum of Scotland and some in the British Museum (which lent theirs for the show.) Chess began sometime around 600 in northern India or Afghanistan - the vocabulary of chess and the basic forms and rules come directly from those origins. These Indian illustrations show chess games between Krishna and his consort Radha and another played outdoors by high born gentlemen. Chess became very popular in aristocratic Europe during the 11th century - the quality of the Lewis Chess Set identifies the owners, whoever they were, as being of wealthy and privileged rank. Even the backs are carved, in the intricate woven patterns consistent with the time and place. Norse mythology is written in these pieces, particularly in the 'Berserkers' those avid soldiers - Berserkers in the sagas were soldiers so frenzied by battle that they fought in a trance. The pieces are small, but larger than the ordinary chess 'men' of today's game - it is said that the board needed for a full game would have measured about 3 feet across - and that the board may have been red and white rather than black and white. Either color opposition makes symbolic sense: archetypal opposition can be seen as dark vs light, or as blood/passion red vs purity/innocence. A drafty battle tent, a lofty hall in a great stone castle, a blustery cold wind flapping and wuthering, the light from a fire flickering over battle-worn hands, faces creased as they ponder their moves and shift these woeful, charming little creatures - the Lewis Chessmen tell us silently that they were there, somewhere.  
The following links give information about the exhibit and the Lewis Chessmen.

http://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2011/the-game-of-kings-medieval-ivory-chessmen-from-the-isle-of-lewis

http://www.nms.ac.uk/our_museums/national_museum/lewis_chessmen_unmasked/meet_the_chessmen.aspx

 


In a park in Geneva, Switzerland life-sized men are 'men' in a giant game of chess. Do you play chess? Is it just a game for you or an iconic battle of good and evil?

RED, red, and Rothko

Mark Rothko, as presented in the play RED, is irascible, self-centered and selfish, in love with his own opinions, domineering .... the justification for such a personality looms over audience and players, the large RED painting meant to represent Rothko's actual work. When I saw RED (the play) recently, I found it to be meaningful but not as compelling as I had expected, partly because I thought the actor playing Rothko didn't have enough gravitas for the role. I'd like to see it again, with another actor, to see what it would be like. (the photo is from the NY production with Al Molina, which got rave reviews - not the one I saw) But that's ART, whether on the stage or on canvas. Rothko did miraculous things with the color red, but the same color is scrawled across handmade valentine cards and schmaltzy paintings of sunsets. The difference (noted in the play) is significance. One artist picks up a brush, a pencil, a piece of paper or cloth, and a few bits of color and creates an object that stirs deep in the soul and moves you to reverie or to tears; another makes a painting that goes well with the sofa. The glory and the frustration of being an artist is striving for significance and always fearing you'll just end up over the sofa. RED features a series of paintings - a 'mural' that was commissioned from Rothko by Philip Johnson, architect of the iconic Seagram's Building on Park Avenue in New York, to be placed in the high-style Four Seasons Restaurant. Rothko was paid a great deal of money and set to work, but somewhere along the line he apparently became to fear the 'sofa' problem (the play centers his doubts in a studio assistant who challenges his motives but the true reason is unknown) - he returned the money and refused the commission. The 30 paintings he did for the commission, however, remain to testify. (Some are at the Tate Modern, some in Japan and elsewhere) Rothko was known for his 'pickiness' - his insistence on proper lighting (very dim) and placement, and when 'he' explains on stage that he can't allow his work to be trivialized as a backdrop for the clank of silverware and the empty prattle of rich diners, it rings true.  There is a spirituality about Rothko's work that resonates deep and long with profound significance - it's no surprise that one of the most successful installations of his work is in a specially built Chapel in Houston. Red, of course, was not his only color, but it spoke a language that he understand like few others. The great painting Red Studio by Matisse, a supreme colorist, is mentioned in the play - another iconic use of this rich complex color. There is also word play with a litany of red shades and hues that is one of the delights for any painter - "cadmium, vermillion, alizarin...." Red has a myriad of variations, some deadly in pigment form. 10 years after the play was set, in February 1970, Rothko killed himself in his studio. His life and work, and then death, were defined by color - the colorful reds gradually disappeared over that decade, replaced finally by dark, heavy blacks, mud browns, and greys.

If you're interested in color you'll like this blog, full of information about colors, pigments, history, and uses

http://artists-pigments-index.blogspot.com/

What does color mean to you? What color defines YOUR life? 

iBeauty - Steve Jobs and Design

I was inspired to focus this post on Design by Ross Douthat's recent NY Times essay about Steve Jobs. Douthat's tribute, among those I saw and read, was the only one to mark out Jobs for his contribution to Design - while he was, of course, also reinventing our entire lives. The article points out Job's "eye for grace and style, and his recognition of the deep connection between beauty and civilization." There it is - the crucial factor that is so easily overlooked. We live better, think better, and create more positive versions of ourselves when we recognize that beauty is essential to our lives. Jobs himself said of design, “In most people’s vocabularies, design means veneer. It’s interior decorating. It’s the fabric of the curtains of the sofa. But to me, nothing could be further from the meaning of design. Design is the fundamental soul of a human-made creation that ends up expressing itself in successive outer layers of the product or service.” 
Jobs held 317 patents for Apple products. They range across categories: computers, mice, monitors, but also the staircase in Apple stores and a clasp for a pair of cords. An interactive timeline from the NYTimes gives the idea (click on the link at the end of the post) Not all are 'beautiful' but you can see how he moves over the years from the first typewriter with a tv and a box (1977) towards sleek, graceful forms that have an inevitable relation to function. They work - astonishingly so at times - and, especially from the last 10 years or so, the designs are truly beautiful. A user interacting with an iPhone is beauty in action - form and function in harmony, with an extra measure of very cool pleasure. There are some Jobs products that didn't make it but now they don't count because no one remembers them. The rule of good product design can be defined as 'looks good' 'works well' and 'sells well' - if all three aren't there, the product won't survive. The blog Architecture + Morality puts forth this tenet in a post about design: 'most people believe that good ideas should continue, while bad ones should be laid to rest. Usually the market filters out the real stinkers.." 

Steve Jobs is listed as 'artist' in the database of the Museum of Modern Art: a number of his designs (some in collaboration with others) figure in the permanent collection. His true nature, as characterized in one of many tributes, was that of Leonardo da Vinci, rather than the more straightforward genius of Einstein. Like da Vinci, the metaphorical box was for other people - Jobs was always out beyond, dreaming up what was going next INTO that box with the immortal logo. 

Here are a few examples of contemporary product design. What do you think - which of them will survive? (Dropp! bowl made of silicone, toilet and bidet by Laufen, Standing Kitchen tools by Head Chef)
Ross Douthat's article

10/09/opinion/sunday/douthat-up-from-ugliness.html?_r=1&ref=rossdouthat
Interactive Apple timeline

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/08/24/technology/steve-jobs-patents.html?ref=business 
Blog Post Architecture + Morality

http://architectureandmorality.blogspot.com/2005/11/some-things-are-better-when-theyre.html