Yellowism - A New Definition for Vandalism?

 

Sunday is usually the busiest day of the week for most of London’s art galleries and museums.  In addition to the ever-present throng of tourists, Sunday is the day when city dwellers, freed of the shackles of the working week and the tyranny of Saturday chores, venture out to explore all that London has to offer.

And for the Tate Modern, that temple on the banks of the Thames dedicated to the worship of modern and contemporary art, this past Sunday was no exception.  From the time the doors swung open at 10am, the crowds began to build, with attendance reaching its zenith by mid-afternoon.

But, as it turned out, this particular Sunday was to prove rather more exceptional that anyone at Tate Modern could possibly have predicted.  Because, unbeknownst to the overworked museum staff and the hordes of jaded art lovers elbowing their way around the various exhibition spaces that make up gallery’s cavernous interior, one man stood poised and ready to commit the ultimate act of vandalism – the defacement of one of the world’s most valuable works of art.



Tate Modern's Rothko Room

The target was Mark Rothko’s Black on Maroon (1958), one of a series of large murals (originally commissioned by the Seagram beverage company to adorn the walls of the company’s premises in Park Avenue, New York) which the artist bequeathed, free of charge, to the Tate in 1969.  This bequest was to prove something of a boon for Tate curators, especially considering the murals are now thought to be worth in the region of £50 million each.  And now, one of their number was about to be vandalized.

By 3.25pm, the deed was done.  Brandishing a brush and black paint, the culprit calmly (and in full view of anyone who happened to be passing), tagged Black on Maroon with the words ‘Vladimir Umanets ’12, A Potential Piece of Yellowism’.  Ironically, the defacer seems to have misjudged the space required because the graffiti was executed rather clumsily – the words were squished into the lower right-hand corner of the mural, while the runny paint dribbled messily into tiny black rivulets on the purple-hued canvas. 

 

The defaced canvas

Witnesses immediately raised the alarm, and the gallery was closed briefly while police were called in to investigate – albeit too late to ensnare the vandal, who had already fled the scene.  But considering Vladimir Umanets had used his real name in the cryptic message scrawled on Rothko’s canvas, it wouldn’t prove overly difficult for Scotland Yard’s finest to track him down …

And track him down they did.  The following evening, Sussex Police arrested Mr Umanets, a Polish national, in Worthing - and having been transferred into the custody of the Met Police, he was charged on suspicion of criminal damage.

Umanets has made no attempt to deny the allegations, freely admitting that he is the culprit.  He does, however, deny that he is a vandal, preferring instead to believe his actions have furthered the cause of the hitherto unheard-of Yellowism movement (of which, Umanets is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a founding member).

 

Umanets (R) with his Yellowism co-founder

So, what exactly is Yellowism?  A new art movement?  Or is it an anti-art statement?  Well, neither, apparently.  According to Umanets himself, "Yellowism is not art, and Yellowish isn't anti-art. It's an element of contemporary visual culture. It's not an artistic movement.  It's not art, it's not reality, it's just Yellowism. It can't be presented in a gallery of art, it can be presented only in Yellowistic chambers.  The main difference between Yellowism and art is that in art you have got freedom of interpretation, in Yellowism you don't have freedom of interpretation. Everything is about Yellowism - that's it.”

Confused? I certainly was. The art world is often guilty of adopting affected and grandiose vocabulary – but this opaque description of Yellowism was one of the most perplexing I have ever come across. I have, however, endeavoured to translate it for you, dear reader, into the following definition which may be somewhat easier to understand:

Yellowism is an undefinable, abstract movement borne out of an over-fertile, deluded, and most likely unhinged imagination. It has no obvious function except to increase the public profile (and consequently the income opportunities) of the owner of said imagination by engaging in the destruction of genuine works of art.

So there you have it. However, don’t expect this definition to enter the OED any time soon - after all, vandalism by any other name is still vandalism.

Tate Britain Receives Significant Art Donation

Tate Britain has received an impressive collection of modern art, including pieces by David Hockney and Lucien Freud, from an Austrian philanthropist.

Click on the link below for further details:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-18247221

Picasso & Modern British Art

On the face of it, the concept – an exhibition which examines Britain’s late-flowering appreciation of the genius of Pablo Picasso, along with his influence on a generation of home-grown artists – is appealing. Certainly, if the pre-publicity is to be believed, Picasso & Modern British Art at Tate Britain ranks as one of this season’s must-see shows.

But, with a crowded cultural calendar, (the blockbuster Leonardo da Vinci display at the National Gallery has just closed, while retrospectives of works by the recently-deceased Lucien Freud and the still-very-much-alive David Hockney are drawing large crowds to the National Portrait Gallery and the Royal Academy respectively), does this particular exposition warrant our attention?

The Three Dancers (1925)

The answer is, of course, yes – in my view, any exhibition featuring even one piece by Picasso is worth the entry fee.  And there are quite a few well-known masterpieces featured in this display (including The Three Dancers (1925) and Weeping Woman (1937)), as well as works by the likes of Duncan Grant, Ben Nicholson and Wyndham Lewis – all of whom were greatly inspired by the Spanish master.

Therein, however, lies the exhibition’s fatal flaw – once inside the gallery space, even a cursory glance at the pieces on display leads one to question the wisdom of showing works by the lesser mortals of the British art world alongside the grand master of modernism.

The Tub by Duncan Grant

To put it quite simply, although talented painters in their own right, the offerings of the British contingent just do not stack up to the trailblazing genius of Picasso.  Indeed, with the exception of some ground-breaking pieces by Francis Bacon and Graham Sutherland, almost all the British artworks on display appear to be nothing more than cheap imitations of the original. Which, of course, they were – there are not many painters in the world who could ever hope to reach the standard set by some of Picasso’s best work.

 

But, did we really need an exhibition to highlight this fact?  Wouldn’t it have been better to leave well enough alone, to allow the public to appreciate the talent of our British artists, without throwing their efforts into harsh relief by showing them alongside the glorious virtuosity of Pablo Picasso?

Indeed, one wonders how the artists themselves would have felt about being included in a show alongside the Spanish maestro - I can only imagine that Grant, Nicholson et al would not have been best pleased.

Picasso & Modern British Art

Until July 15 at Tate Britain

Tickets: £14, Concessions £12.20, Free to Tate Members

http://www.tate.org.uk/britain/exhibitions/picassoandbritain/

Picasso’s Nude Grabs the Spotlight

Today’s art world is replete with big personalities – and even bigger egos. It goes with the territory in our celebrity-obsessed society. Fame, and occasionally notoriety, have become a by-product of artistic success: remember how Tracey Emin became front-page news when the most reclusive of art dealers, Charles Saatchi, plucked her and her unmade bed from relative obscurity?

Unfortunately, the cult of personality that springs up around successful artists often has a diminishing effect on the work they produce. The art is left to languish in the shade, while the artist soaks up the spotlight: the artist outshines the art. One only has to look to artists such as Damien Hirst and Banksy for proof - they are classic examples of those who have built a brand around their legendary name rather than their actual work.

This is not a new phenomenon. In fact, it is a trend that can be traced all the way back to the early 20th century, past Warhol and even Dalí, to the granddaddy of infamous artists – Pablo Picasso.

Let’s think about this for a minute. Picasso was a huge celebrity during his lifetime, famous not just for his ground-breaking work in Cubism, but also for the unorthodox life he led, his tangled love-life and the bohemian company he kept. (Picasso forged friendships with the likes of Chanel, Serge Diaghilev, Jean Cocteau and Stravinsky, and courted controversy by joining the Communist Party in 1944.) Eventually, inevitably, the Picasso legend surpassed the Picasso art, and this has remained true right up to the present day. Most people have heard of Pablo Picasso, but how many have seen his work?

Admittedly, there have been a couple of works by the Spanish cubist master that have emerged from the shadow of their creator, most notably Guernica. The artist’s harrowing and haunting depiction of the brutal bombing of a small rural town during the Spanish Civil War inspires an immense depth of feeling among those who see it, with the result that the painting has become legendary in its own right. This is a work that stands alone, unburdened by the infamy of its creator, but laden down with the terrible legacy of a cruel war.

Guernica

But now, another Picasso creation has been grabbing the headlines, albeit for entirely different reasons. Nude, Green Leaves and Bust, a 1932 painting of Picasso’s sometime mistress Marie-Thérèse Walter, is fast gaining an infamy to rival that of the master himself. Having been hidden away from public view by a private collector for many years (it was only exhibited once, in 1961, to commemorate the artist’s 80th birthday), the painting resurfaced recently after the death of its owner. Understandably, the resulting auction (at Christies New York) attracted much attention, with a projected sale price of $80 million. After a bidding frenzy, the gavel finally came down on a bid of $106 million (£65 million) and Nude, Green Leaves and Bust entered the history books as the most expensive painting ever sold at auction.

When it transpired that the deep-pocketed buyer was an anonymous bidder, the most expensive painting in the world seemed fated to languish in a private collection yet again, to be viewed only by the privileged few. And so, it is hardly surprising that the painting once again garnered headlines this week when Tate Modern announced, with much fanfare, that the work had been given on loan to the gallery by the mysterious owner.

Nude, Green Leaves and Bust

No doubt, Nude, Green Leaves and Bust will attract countless visitors, keen to see the world's most expensive painting. But will it fall victim to it's own success? The heavy price-tag will carry with it a heavy burden of expectation. Undoubtedly, the painting is a wonderful example of Picasso's genius, but as we all know, being the most expensive does not necessarily equate to being the best ...

The painting’s infamy means it has emerged from the shadow of it’s equally famous creator … but will it ever escape the spectre of it’s gigantic price-tag? Ultimately, it will be up to the viewing public to decide ...

"Nude, Green Leaves and Bust" can be viewed in the Poetry and Dream wing of the Tate Modern, London. Admission free.