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House of Expressionism

MAJA KRISTIANSEN | CONTENT WRITER

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The Munch Museum was opened on 22nd October 2021, after months of setbacks related to Covid restrictions. The museum’s expressionistic, as well as naturalistic style, lends itself perfectly to its artist of honour, Edvard Munch. Edvard Munch is one of the most well-known and renowned Norwegian artists of the late 19th and early 20th century, most often recognized for the painting Scream, which he finished painting in 1893. The museum showcases Munch’s fascinations and ideations within his paintings through the categorisations of each floor within the museum. The floors display both paintings by Munch and other artists that showcase the style Munch employed during the 19th and early 20th century. Reflecting the themes and emotions he explored within his paintings, as well as showcasing the future of impressionistic and naturalistic style. The floors start out with some of Munch’s contemporaries from multiple artforms including film, poetry, and painting. Among these artists, the visitor will encounter Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali, recognised for their surreal and expressionistic films and paintings, including Un Chien Andalou and Melting Clocks, respectively. Another floor is solely paintings by Edvard Munch, displaying his lifelong fascination with the intertwined relationship between joy and pain within love. This floor displays multiple versions of his paintings, including sketches and drawings. The most notable painting from this floor of love is the artwork Separation. The painting is of a woman being detached from a man with the separation shown visually through the brushstrokes that connect the pair, becoming smaller and smaller. This painting is one of many that shows the presence of pain within love. Another standout painting is Jealousy, which displays a man turned away from his subject of love, green with envy. The painting Scream is primarily exhibited within a blacked-out room, where two versions of the painting are displayed on rotation every hour, making the encounter with the Scream painting unpredictable. It becomes clear that the painting accentuates the philosophical contemplation that haunts all of Munch’s work. That is, the recognition of the fact that the human experience and all the emotions that come with it are completely one’s own, like innate loneliness. Commenting on the multiple paintings, the museum expresses that: ‘all of the versions are different but equally powerful. Note how Munch placed a group of men in the background on a straight road that disappears into infinity. This makes their distance from the figure in the foreground even more obvious. What arouses angst and despair in one person may be insignificant for another’. The museum is an eclectic formation of the human experience through all artforms, attempting to grasp the internal world of people and subjects. It can, perhaps, inspire visitors not only to attempt any of the eclectic art forms and styles displayed within the museum, but also consider the individuality one holds in the world and how you can attempt to share it with others.

Review: The Procession by Hew Locke

ISABEL WEST | ARTS EDITOR

Upon visiting the Tate Britain last weekend, I was surprised to be so enraptured by the Tate’s commission piece The Procession, especially as I stumbled upon it by accident. The Duveen Galleries, a long space stemming from the front of the building, houses this celebration of cultures until January of next year. The Procession takes you on a journey presenting you with Caribbean Carnival figures, PostColonial Trade images juxtaposed with pre-colonial inspired sculptures, images and records of the slave trade, natural and environmental disaster and references to the British empire and revolution.

Alongside the animal and Día de los Muertos allusions, images of global financial and violent colonial control are woven into the carboard figures’ clothing and banners. The masks of many of the figures become part of them so expertly that for some it is not clear whether they are masked or not. Similarly, for figures such as the children that begin The Procession it is unclear whether the share holders’ certificates that are wrapped around them are clothes or have become part of their skin. In a sort of reclaiming, Locke has painted native birds, bananas, and other culturally significant images onto shares certificates, from companies like the Russian General Oil Corporation and the West India Improvement Company, and sold land certificates, from sugar plantations and with it, enslaved people. Draped on the figures, Locke has used varying fabrics ranging from vibrant contrasting colours to duller, more aged looking fabrics. As well as the fabrics and shares certificates, Locke also uses photographs of colonial architecture from his childhood home Guyana that are displayed on banners the figures carry as well as their clothing. The clothing itself also ranges from more native clothing, carnival costumes to school uniforms, suits, and military attire. Many of these outfits, fabrics and images are repeated throughout the procession, confronting the viewers with them: forcing them to take notice.

Source: Isabel West

Through his procession Locke invites visitors to ‘reflect on the cycles of history, and the ebb and flow of cultures, people, finance and power.’ This message appears even stronger in a space defined and founded by men such as Henry Tate who was himself a sugar merchant. In placing such a powerful display of the aftermath of colonialisation within a space entirely indebted to the slave trade and sugar business, Locke enhances the poignancy of his message. As he himself says, he ‘makes links with the historical after-effects of the sugar business, almost drawing out of the walls of the building.’ Locke’s lifelong fascination with how nations are formed and what they chose as their symbols of nationhood is clearly reflected in his largest piece yet. This fascination stems from witnessing Guyana independence from the British rule at the age of five. Nationhood and identity are prevalent themes in this piece, but more specifically the carving of identity free from colonial rule. The Procession is as provocative as it is interesting and beautiful and deserves the viewers prolonged attention. The procession with its figures paused mid step, brings the echoes of history, and firmly establishes them in the present in a gallery where its historical foundations lie in the colonising roots this procession criticises.

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