Blackpaint 592 – Acid Colours, Alabaster and Lost Cities

Maria Lassnig – A Painting Survey, 1950-2007 (Hauser & Wirth, Savile Row W1, until 29th April)

Austrian painter (1919-2014), worked in Vienna.  Gallery blurb says she was influenced by Kokoschka’s colours and Schiele’s figuration; I think I can see an affinity with Dumas and Chantal Joffe, but I guess any influence would have come from Lassnig to them, because of the dates.

The figures below are her least extreme, perhaps; her bodies are usually squat and sawn-off, the faces porcine with upturned snouts.  Her colours are rather like those livid ones that are left over from a box of paints when you have used up all the good ones – lemon yellows, yellowy greens, sickly oranges, radioactive mauves.


I like the delicacy of the hands and breasts of the left hand seated figure; not so taken with the one on the right.


Like the shoulder and the green hair.


Great abstract – don’t know why.


That mauve is deadly; kills human cells by radiation.


Looks like a rabbit hurtling full-tilt towards viewer – but it’s not; male and female figures, apparently.


Lewitt, Orozco, Richter, Spalletti. Toroni (Marian Goodman Gallery, Lower John St. W1, until 8th April)

The title of this exhibition is: “The supreme rifts….a measured propinquity” – whatever that means.

There are two Richters: one of those thin multi-coloured, computer -made stripe ones, that make your eyes ache – and a frame carrying several large, hanging, glass plates.

The Spalletti I liked were these alabaster slabs on a plinth (below) – they look good enough to eat, as if made of coconut or a translucent white cheese.



There is a room of Lewitt walls upstairs (see below); there is a dappled effect in the paint, or rather inks, which could have been sprayed on, but I guess were done by someone with a roller.


Sol Lewitt


The Lost City of Z (Dir. James Gray, 2017)

A staggeringly old-fashioned account of Percy Fawcett’s obsessive, repeated expeditions into Bolivian rain forest in search of a pre-Christian civilisation, ending of course, in his (and his son’s) disappearance.  Stilted, cliched script, Charlie Hunnam’s dodgy accent (Bring back Kenneth Branagh – bit old now, I know) and some feminist politics from Sienna Miller who wants to go with him, but has to stay home while he carries on up the jungle, having to put up with brief visits between expeditions (each visit resulting in a pregnancy).

The WW1 Somme battle scene is the worst bit; two fires on the muddy horizon are clearly from gas jets; as they go over the top, the men level their rifles and fire at the enemy as if in a western.  The Webley revolvers sound authentic though.

In the scene near the end, where Fawcett and his son are beset by angry aboriginals, I was reminded of that old film of Richard Attenborough in New Guinea, where the locals swarm down to surround him.  Happily for Attenborough, they turned out to be welcoming.

Eagle Annual stuff, about 1955 – lots of ecological message though, and some stunning scenery, but give me Aguirre, Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo and Embrace of the Serpent.










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