Modern life in art
Crowd-pleasing
Dec 29th 2004 From The Economist print edition
A wonderfully provocative show in London's East End
National Gallery of Art
Life as spectacle
A NEW exhibition at London's Whitechapel Gallery takes the path less travelled through modern art. "Faces in the Crowd： Picturing Modern Life from Manet to Today"， which runs until March 6th， does not focus on grand narratives-movements such as Cubism， Abstract Expressionism or Conceptualism. Rather， it presents figurative art portraying the human experience of modern life， from the late 19th century onwards.
The exhibition's title comes from an Ezra Pound poem inspired by a journey on the Paris Metro："The apparition of these faces in the crowd； petals on a wet， black bough". The Chinese- inspired image may strike the modern commuter as implausible. Still， the two curators， Iwona Blazwick and Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev， of the Whitechapel and the Castello di Rivoli in Turin respectively， whisk the viewer through how artists have depicted the individual in the metropolis.
The exhibition opens with Edouard Manet's "Masked Ball at the Opera" （1873）， which brilliantly captures life in the modern city. Its snapshot cropping conveys a sense of spontaneity and reportage. People mingle with those with masks， blurring distinctions of status and conferring anonymity. The artist looks out of the picture at you， and you look in at him， made suddenly aware of his identity by the signed programme lying at his feet.
Manet reflected new subjects and new spaces for art， as well as ideas about art mirroring the faster pace of life. He also understood that life was becoming more of a spectacle. Brassai's photos of night-time Paris， newly electrified， present an urban drama where citizens are on show. Rodchenko's posters create utopian visions out of mass movements. Song Dong's more recent slide show of modern Shanghai projected through a crumpled paper shows the constantly shifting fabric of urban life. Raghubir Singh's photos of teeming Indian cities look like collages.
Indeed， a happy accident of the show is that it provides a small masterclass in 20th-century photography. Rene Burri's linear visions of skyscrapers are there， along with Robert Capa at war， Walker Evans riding New York's subway and Helen Levitt on its streets. David Goldblatt's deadpan images of apartheid South Africa hang near the wacky photos of priests playing in the snow by Mario Giacomelli， an Italian neo-realist. As the exhibition （and the century）
progresses， the viewer sees how photography moved from a document to an artistic medium in its own right-starting with Andy Warhol's silk screen of a mourning Jackie Kennedy and moving through Gilbert and George， Cindy Sherman and the nostalgic images of political protest by Sam Durant.
This show is a rare opportunity to see a wide range of extraordinary art， much of it on loan from abroad. It is impressive because of imperfections， not despite them. Viewers may question the selection or poke holes in the cerebral arguments of the catalogue. But the show is so packed with provocative work that arguing over it is part of the fun. It is a reminder of how frenetic and infuriating and endlessly fascinating life in a modern city can be. If life can imitate art even for the span of an exhibition， that is no bad thing.
Crowd-pleasing
Dec 29th 2004 From The Economist print edition
A wonderfully provocative show in London's East End
National Gallery of Art
Life as spectacle
A NEW exhibition at London's Whitechapel Gallery takes the path less travelled through modern art. "Faces in the Crowd： Picturing Modern Life from Manet to Today"， which runs until March 6th， does not focus on grand narratives-movements such as Cubism， Abstract Expressionism or Conceptualism. Rather， it presents figurative art portraying the human experience of modern life， from the late 19th century onwards.
The exhibition's title comes from an Ezra Pound poem inspired by a journey on the Paris Metro："The apparition of these faces in the crowd； petals on a wet， black bough". The Chinese- inspired image may strike the modern commuter as implausible. Still， the two curators， Iwona Blazwick and Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev， of the Whitechapel and the Castello di Rivoli in Turin respectively， whisk the viewer through how artists have depicted the individual in the metropolis.
The exhibition opens with Edouard Manet's "Masked Ball at the Opera" （1873）， which brilliantly captures life in the modern city. Its snapshot cropping conveys a sense of spontaneity and reportage. People mingle with those with masks， blurring distinctions of status and conferring anonymity. The artist looks out of the picture at you， and you look in at him， made suddenly aware of his identity by the signed programme lying at his feet.
Manet reflected new subjects and new spaces for art， as well as ideas about art mirroring the faster pace of life. He also understood that life was becoming more of a spectacle. Brassai's photos of night-time Paris， newly electrified， present an urban drama where citizens are on show. Rodchenko's posters create utopian visions out of mass movements. Song Dong's more recent slide show of modern Shanghai projected through a crumpled paper shows the constantly shifting fabric of urban life. Raghubir Singh's photos of teeming Indian cities look like collages.
Indeed， a happy accident of the show is that it provides a small masterclass in 20th-century photography. Rene Burri's linear visions of skyscrapers are there， along with Robert Capa at war， Walker Evans riding New York's subway and Helen Levitt on its streets. David Goldblatt's deadpan images of apartheid South Africa hang near the wacky photos of priests playing in the snow by Mario Giacomelli， an Italian neo-realist. As the exhibition （and the century）
progresses， the viewer sees how photography moved from a document to an artistic medium in its own right-starting with Andy Warhol's silk screen of a mourning Jackie Kennedy and moving through Gilbert and George， Cindy Sherman and the nostalgic images of political protest by Sam Durant.
This show is a rare opportunity to see a wide range of extraordinary art， much of it on loan from abroad. It is impressive because of imperfections， not despite them. Viewers may question the selection or poke holes in the cerebral arguments of the catalogue. But the show is so packed with provocative work that arguing over it is part of the fun. It is a reminder of how frenetic and infuriating and endlessly fascinating life in a modern city can be. If life can imitate art even for the span of an exhibition， that is no bad thing.