Visual Arts II: Sculpture, Film, Architecture & More

Here's another sculpture by Auguste Rodin that is typical of his work and interests - Victor Hugo et les Muses. Of course, this is a bronze of the famed French author and politician, and we'll begin with the front:



Rodin's interest in the movement of the human figure is on display in this work. He did many other busts and sculptures of Hugo where the figure is still but not in this work. Now we'll start working our way around the sculpture...



...and see a figure emerging from behind Hugo...



...from this angle you can really see the circular motion in the sculpture where the three figures swirl around a central axis, much in the same way as The Burghers of Calais posted above.

Finally, a better view of the back:



(Rodin cont. below)

 

(cont. from above)

As I mentioned earlier, Rodin did quite a few sculptures of Victor Hugo, who was a national hero of sorts. Reportedly, Hugo would sit for no more than a half hour for Rodin, but allowed the artist to draw him as he went about his business. Not surprisingly, Rodin was a fine illustrator (or draftsman, if you prefer) and here are a couple of his sketches of Victor Hugo:





(cont. below)

 

(cont. from above)

...and to sum things up for now, here is another example of Rodin's artistic versatility, which is an etching of Henri Becque:

 

1) Good etching.

2) My "like," for the other Rodin sculpture-- Victor Hugo & the Muses-- was not for the sculpture, but for your treatment of it, which I appreciated. The work, however, seems from some of the angles to me, to be overly bulky, and awkward. The idea of Muses, to my mind, evokes more ethereal type imagery, something more graceful.

By the way, what is your impression as to what is going on, in the sculpture? The action is not clear to me. Perhaps Hugo is merely "being inspired," but then why is his arm extended, as if to push off any defensive players, as he runs to the end zone?

One angle that you didn't show, that I think might be the most interesting, would be from in between those two Muses; especially-- if you will humor my re-envisioning of Rodin's work-- if the contact seemed more intimate, and sensual; if that Muse, instead of arching away from Hugo, was leaning into his back, a little higher up, so that she could be turning her head to her left, and having the side of her neck, against the back of his, for instance. Or, if Hugo's right arm is opened up, perhaps having the Muse's head falling backward onto the top of Hugo's shoulder, as if it were a pillow.

Something like that could also possibly work, just using the top halves of their bodies. Maybe the Muse could be rising into physical form, from out of some sort of mist, instead of the whole work being mounted upon that draped base, which I don't know what it is, other than the least appealing (though largest) part of the sculpture. Is that supposed to be rising out of the water?



3) I hadn't noticed, before, that along with the three dimensional arts, of sculpture and architecture, you were making film, part of your thread. Honestly, I think that more properly falls under graphic, or visual arts (that is, my own thread). But of course, I'm not implying that you can't do this; I'm only pointing it out, in case at some juncture, film does become a focus, in the Visual Artist thread.

 

I agree. Stumbling across that and his sketches was a real treat. It's kinda fun, to me at least, to see the parts of the creative process that happen before the sculpting begins.

Thanks. I would agree that the sculpture is a bit clunky, for lack of a better word, and I think we see that heaviness in a lot of his work, such as his bronze of Honoré de Balzac:



As for the motion in the sculpture, it is rather curious, but my best guess is that the motion is there for motion's sake. Apparently, Rodin was big on the human figure in motion - often he would have nude models walking around his studio while he worked - so I guess when given the choice, he preferred to sculpt a figure in motion instead of a still or static figure.

An interesting aside about Rodin's sculptures of Hugo, evidently the ones that were for the most part nudes (including the one we're discussing), were not particularly well received by the public - in fact, "scandalous" was the word used by many to describe their feelings about the sculptures. I guess the people who held the novelist and politician in great esteem expected a more dignified representation of their hero (personally, after reading Quatrevingt-treize I have mixed feelings about the man and his work).

Indeed, film/cinematography is a Visual Art, as is video, sculpture and architecture, but I chose to include it here (Visual Arts II) because of the motion in film (hence, "motion pictures"), whereas in the OP of the Painters and Visual Artists thread you mentioned that you wanted to focus on non-moving images, e.g., painting, drawing, and printing:

Of course, I also inferred two-dimensional from you reference to "non moving images" and "painting, drawing, and printing (woodcuts, etc.)", which is why I parked sculpture and architecture here. One might also ask why I included architecture and that is because architecture can be an art form, not just the design of some plain, purely utilitarian structure of sorts, and it is studied along with painting and sculpture in university/college-level Art History classes. Furthermore, on a personal level, I had the pleasure growing up near Eero Saarinen's Dulles Airport, which gave me an appreciation of how architecture can be an art form:







But getting back to film (and cinematography), your question makes for a nice segue into a discussion about that medium, which I'll begin with my two favorite filmmakers below...

 

...and finally, this thread works its way into my own personal wheelhouse, Film and Video, but for now I am going to focus on Film and Cinematography.

Personally, I tend to break Film and Cinematography into two categories - Black and White Film & Cinematography and Color Film & Cinematography. The main reason why I do this is because Color concerns only one, not both, of these two categories. On the flip side, I think the absence of color forces artists working in black and white to place a greater emphasis on Light (and Shadow). This is why I have two sets of favorite filmmakers and cinematographers who worked together on what I consider the greatest black & white and color films of all time:


Best Black and White: Citizen Kane (1941)
Director: Orson Welles
Cinematographer: Gregg Toland



Best Color: Ran (1985)
Director: Akira Kurosawa
Cinematographer: Takao Saito

Honorable Mention:


Dreams (1990)
Director: Akira Kurosawa
Cinematographer: Takao Saito

Breakdowns of each film to follow...

 

My bad-- I had forgotten about that caveat. I guess I've gotten into a more expansive, inclusive frame of mind, since I began my thread. But thanks for reminding me of that original intention, and I'm glad my mistake could serve as a nice segue for you.

 

One of the most beautifully made films I have ever seen, is The Village, written & directed by M. Night Shyamalan, & starring Joachim Phoenix and John Hurt, among others.

 

First of all. permit me to preface my remarks by stating that I am judging these films solely on account of their cinematography, and what do I mean by cinematography? Here is a good definition:

Cinematography is the art of photography and visual storytelling in a motion picture or television show. Cinematography comprises all on-screen visual elements, including lighting, framing, composition, camera motion, camera angles, film selection, lens choices, depth of field, zoom, focus, color, exposure, and filtration...

The two people in charge of this are the director and cinematographer.



While there are many other movies that have better storylines and screenplay - Casablanca immediately comes to mind - what makes Citizen Kane arguably the greatest film of all time is its cinematography. As testimony to its greatness, when I took Film in college, we broke down this film scene by scene, shot by shot and frame by frame, and I imagine that we were not the only ones who did this. You can learn just about everything you need to know about cinematography by analyzing that film.

Another thing that makes Citizen Kane remarkable is that it was the first film where there were ceilings on the sets, so Orson Welles and Gregg Toland had to so something no one had ever done before - figure out how to light their scenes in new and innovative ways without using the standard overhead lighting that had been used in the past, and the results were just unbelievable. As far as Film is concerned, it is a work of pure cinematographic genius and artistry.

This is one of the better montages I have been able to find that illustrates the incredible cinematography in Citizen Kane and why it is widely considered (myself included) the greatest film of all time:



In this video, filmmakers discuss what makes Kane one of the greatest, if not the greatest film of all time, and one comment that struck me was Richard Dreyfuss' observation that no matter how many times you watch that film you always see something new in it that you didn't catch before:



I've seen many great films in my time, and while some may rival it, none surpass its cinematography.

However, Color is something Welles and Tollard never had to deal with when they made Citizen Kane, which brings us to our next our next team that took film and cinematography to this next level....

(cont.)

 

When it comes to Color filmmaking and cinematography, director Akira Kurosawa and cinematographer Takao Saito can't be beat, and arguably their greatest work was the 1985 film Ran. The storyline is an adaptation of William Shakespeare's King Lear, but as is the case with Citizen Kane, it's the cinematography in this film that sets it apart, and the Color is its most exceptional element. You're not going to find a filmmaker who has a better eye for color than Akira Kurosawa:





(cont.)

 

Here's the film that got my Honorable Mention, Akira Kurosawa's Dreams. Overall, it's not as good as Ran, but it has a couple that are just as good (imo):



And I believe this is the entire film - the opening scene, "Sunshine Through the Rain", and the final scene, "Village of the Watermills" (1:38:29) are arguably the best (certainly my favorites):



PS. Yes, that's Martin Scorcese playing Vincent Van Gogh.

 

This beautiful film almost slipped my mind - as far as Color goes, it is one of the finest I have seen. Jean-Pierre Jeunet and are Bruno Delbonnel another great filmmaking duo.

It's very much another silly French film, but again it's the cinematography that sets this film apart:

Amélie (2001)
Director: Jean-Pierre Jeunet
Cinematography: Bruno Delbonnel





This shot/pan on the Saint-Martin Canal - :21 - is fantastic....





Again, the vivid green and red....

 

Apologies for my bad editing above (wish we had longer to fix posts) - I meant to say Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Bruno Delbonnel are another great filmmaking duo....

 

Here's a trailer from what is considered the first great piece of cinematography, where a director treated film as its own unique medium instead of theater recorded on film - Battleship Potemkin (1925), directed by Sergei Eisenstein (cinematography by Eduard Tisse). The trailer includes part of the famous Odessa Stairs scene, with the ominous shadows of the soldiers looming over the stairs and crowd:



As a piece of Soviet propaganda this film has a turbulent history, not unlike those of Leni Riefenstahl, but the quality of the filmmaking and the treatment of the medium are exceptional for their time.

(There are several full length videos of the movie available at YouTube)

 

I’m a big fan of M. Night Shyamalan. I haven’t seen all of his films but the ones I’ve seen I really liked. As I mentioned earlier, I was ranking the other filmmakers and films based solely on their cinematographic merits, but to me M. Night Shyamalan represents the other side of film that is more concerned with great themes, storylines, screenplays and characters. Martin Scorcese is perhaps the most prominent example of this sort of filmmaker, and Casino is an excellent example of that kind of filmmaking. Shyamalan is a good example of a younger filmmaker carrying on that tradition and of the movies I’ve seen Signs is probably the best example of that. It’s easy to get lost in the alien invasion story, which is fun and suspenseful and all, but that’s not what the movie is really about. It’s about losing faith in one’s beliefs and self and then regaining that faith, and it’s a powerful theme that resonates with a lot of people. Another thing I like about it is that the end is uplifting, and that’s one of the things that I personally believe Art should be about - uplifting the spirit. I get the impression you appreciate if not believe that yourself, and I’ve never found a more eloquent spokesman for that belief than Nobel Prize winning novelist William Faulkner. Of his many great writings, from The Bear to Absolom, Absolom!, I consider his Nobel Banquet speech the greatest of all:

Ladies and gentlemen,

I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work – a life’s work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing.

Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.

He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed – love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.

Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking.

I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

I don’t know about you, but I find that speech immensely powerful and inspiring, and I wish every artist and most particularly every young artist would read it. I don’t know if M. Night Shyamalan has ever read it, but after watching Signs - and I’ve watched it several times - one would think that he has read it or at least shares this view of what Art can be about. Something that uplifts the spirit, something that brings beauty into our lives, something that casts Light into Darkness and reveals the truths, knowledge and insights present in life’s many mysteries.

And on that positive note I’ll conclude this post and wish you and everyone a wonderful weekend….

 

I always thought this was a fantastic photo. What you’re seeing are the shadows of zebras just doing their thing. The only reason why I know about this photo is because it won an award.

 

1. You're posting this in the wrong thread-- this one in sculpture, architecture, and cinematographic arts. Photos would be still, graphic arts (which is part of the painting & visual arts thread).

2. Too bad, because this picture actually fits into the discussion we've been having there, about abstract art. This picture, that you like, looks very much like an abstract design (more so, the smaller you make it/further away you get).

3. What do you mean, "the shadows of zebras?"-- I see shadows beneath the ant-like zebra silhouettes. Now, if this picture shows the shadows' shadows, that would be something, extra special.

 

Funny, when I think of William Faulkner, nowhere among the first things that come to mind, are happy endings.

I honestly never got into his work. I remember reading a story in high school-- "The Fire Starter," I think, was the title, though I have a feeling it wasn't the only story like that, in his oeuvre-- and it just did not appeal to me.

As to Shyamalan: I am not especially a fan, of his work, overall. The Village, other than the signature twist ending, though, is different from his other works-- did you look at the videos, I'd included? And I didn't just mean that it is a great story (which it is), but that the imagery is very effective in creating the psychological moods, which propel the story, is artistically composed, evocative, and beautifully bewitching. Cinematography is simply the painting of the film imagery; it doesn't have to be some huge, swarming crowd scene, or Apocalypse Now, or the chariot race, in Ben Hur, to be excellent, and noteworthy.

 

LOL - Understandably so, however, his short story The Bear has a wonderful ending:

https://www.gbdioc.org/images/stories/Lay-Ministry/Syllabus/The_Bear_by_William_Faulkner.pdf

Incidentally, remember how I said in the Civil War Secession thread that 'Man cannot defy Nature with impunity'? That's a theme that runs through much of Faulkner's work.

Faulkner is kinda hit or miss for me. I'm very fond of The Bear and Absolom, Absolom! is one of the best novels I have ever read. On the other hand, while Light of August is exquisitely written, I found the ending disappointing.

Absolutely true.

Kurosawa's Ran is an excellent example of that. The color, lighting and movement in the chaotic battle scenes are fantastic, but for me the most beautiful scenes are in the quieter parts of the film:


(There are even better shots than this one in this scene but this is the best one I could find)

Same thing with Dreams - the best cinematography is in the quieter vignettes in the film:





By the way, I did watch most of the four short videos you posted and the shots in the first one are particularly nice. I really need to watch that film in its entirety again - the first time I saw it I was so absorbed in the strange storyline that I didn't watch it from a cinematographic viewpoint. I did the same thing with Hud (1963), starring Paul Newman. The first time I watched it I got so absorbed in the characters, storyline and great acting that James Wong Howe's Academy Award-winning cinematography escaped me. It wasn't until I watched it again with a cinematographer's eye that I was able to fully appreciate how well that film was shot.

 

When I see a miniaturized image of this sculpture, the overall design is a bit more appealing to me. Its shape is evocative of a spiral shell/screw seashell. So I looked up the symbolism of that:

<Google Snip>

What does a spiral sea shell mean?
Life and Fertility:

Many ancient cultures associated seashells, especially those with spirals, with the continuous cycles of life, birth, and fertility due to their connection with the sea, which is often viewed as a source of life.
https://www.marahlago.com › blog
Seashell Symbolism, Shell Meaning
<End Snip>




However, the symbolism-- if not the sleek design-- of the Nautilus shape, seems like it might have been more applicable to the "Muse" concept:

<Google Snip>

What does the nautilus shell symbolize?

It is a symbol of nature's grace in growth, expansion, and renewal. It is also a symbol of order amidst chaos as reflected in its spiral precision. As the nautilus grows, it does so in direct proportion to its needs and with geometric precision.
https://www.drbeckybeaton.com › t...
About The Chambered Nautilus - Dr. Becky Beaton, LLC
<End>





Just a musing, of my own.
BTW, this angle on the sculpture, is also growing on me (so to speak):





I like the tentacular feel of the limbs...I wonder if Rodin meant to evoke a squid? I mean, after all, Hugo was a writer, and the Squid is known for its ink. <rim shot>


EDIT:
Just for the heck of it, I checked the associations with the squid, and it actually goes very well with the idea of Muse inspiration--

https://spiritandsymbolism.com/squid-spiritual-meaning-symbolism-and-totem/

<Snip>
The Squid is also a symbol of intelligence and creativity, as it is one of the most intelligent creatures in the ocean. The Squid can communicate with other Squid using a system of light and color changes, which is why it is often seen as a symbol of communication.
<End Snip>

It also says that, because of its ability to change its color & shape, the squid is a symbol of TRANSFORMATION and is associated with DREAMS. I only wonder if this article is overly conflating squid with octopi.

 

And he'll be doing two shows a night all weekend, folks!

One can definitely see the spiral composition and, dare I say motion, in the sculpture. Perhaps your musings aren't so far off the mark?

 

See my added EDIT, to my last post.

 

On Saturday afternoon, I happened to catch travel guide Rick Steves' show "Art of Europe - The Renaissance":

https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/video/tv-show/renaissance-art

and it featured a sculpture that was briefly mentioned in post #13 - Donatello's bronze David.

Apparently, I had forgotten the importance of this Early Renaissance sculpture (c. 1440). It was the first free-standing nude that had been sculpted since the Classical Era almost 1000 years previously. During the Middle Ages, sculptures featured secular and religious leaders, along with Biblical figures and saints, were usually located in churches, and of course, discretely clothed. Either Cosimo de' Medici or the Medici family commissioned the Florentine sculptor to create this for one of their palaces, so it represents a break from the Medieval Era to the Renaissance in many respects. It also figures that this happened in Florence, which is widely considered the birthplace and epicenter of the Renaissance.

 

@Talon

To return to film, have you ever seen the G.W. Pabst silent, b&w film, Pandora's Box. The first time I'd seen that, I had thought it had cast a beautiful-- if not by any means, always pretty-- cinematographic spell (though the piano accompaniment soundtrack, also helped, particularly at the end of the film).

 

Returning to "the talkies," and color films, another of my all time favorite, powerful films, is Don Siegel's The Beguiled, starring Clint Eastwood-- in my opinion, by far the best of the 5 films, they made together.

That said, I will touch upon a point you'd earlier made, about cinematography being separate from the judging of the film, on the whole. While this may be standard practice, I disagree, that the two are separate: they work together, towards whatever effects the film is aiming; if they are not in synch, what good is impressive cinematography, that is inappropriate to the subject or scene?

Instead of my going on about this film, I found this review, which is a good one, and includes numerous, nice still images, from the film.




The movie trailer for this one, doesn't well represent it. I was hoping to find a video of just the film's opening, which shifts from black and white, to color, in what I'd thought was particularly effective, creating the feeling that one was stepping into the the past, or into a dream. It really is a fascinating, a mesmerizing film. The kind that will leave you thinking.

The only full scene I could find, was a spoiler, so I didn't want to dispel any of the film's tension, for any who've never seen this 1971 masterpiece. Here, though, is a short clip of the kissing scene, spoken about in the preceding review. I also thought that you, Talon, might like the musical augmentation, chosen by the video's poster.






I will include one other review, for the sake of including a wider range of perspectives; but I am not going to include any reviewer who calls the film "really strange" or weird, and who just doesn't get it. I have seen both great ratings for this movie, and I have seen it given a single star: worse than any of Eastwood's vehicles, co-starring with an orangutan. This reviewer is not a professional, but expresses himself well. While I agree with him, in a general sense, that doesn't apply to all his specific ideas; but they are interesting views, nonetheless. I think they may help give one a sense of what to expect.

This reviewer mentions the reimagined take on this film, directed by Sophia Coppola, and starring Colin Farrell. He had seen that one, first, and reviews the original favorably, by comparison. I was not tempted to see a modern butchering of this work of art. When the Farrell remake was broadcast on t.v., I watched about the first two minutes, before knowing that it wouldn't hold a candle, to the Eastwood version.