Showing posts with label shapero modern. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shapero modern. Show all posts

26 Apr 2025

Reflections on a Fat Sand Rat

Top: photo of a fat sand rat by fmeijerdd (2023) 
Bottom: Joan Miró: Le Rat des Sables (1975) 
Aquatint in colours on Arches paper (96 x 138.8 cm) 
 
 
I. 
 
Once, at a graduate seminar titled 'Non-Oedipal Models of Psychology', Maggie Nelson was asked to participate in a "quick get-to-know-you game involving totem animals" [1]; an exercise that triggered her identity phobia

Not quite knowing what to say as she didn't possess any such animal, Nelson nervously awaited her turn as they went around the room, and then just blurted out otter, for no real reason other than the fact that it was important at the time for her to feel "small, slick, quick, amphibious, dexterous, capable" [2]
 
Like Nelson, not identifying with any tribe, clan, or close-knit community, I don't have a totem animal either; nor even do I have a spirit animal looking over me as an individual [3]. However, if I were put on the spot and obliged, like Nelson, to suddenly come up with such, I think at this point in time (when I'm feeling a little overweight) I'd probably say the fat sand rat ...
 
 
II. 
 
The fat sand rat (Psammomys obesus) is a terrestrial mammal belonging to the gerbil subfamily that is mostly found in the deserts of North Africa and the Middle East. Despite their (rather unflattering) name, they are actually very fussy eaters in the wild, only consuming stems and leaves from plants that belong to the genus Amaranthus. It's when they are kept in captivity and fed the wrong diet that they become obese and rapidly develop diabetes-like symptoms [4].  
 
As well as foraging for food, sand rats like to explore, to sunbathe, and to sleep; so quite a pleasant life, although they are not the most social of animals, preferring to live alone in their burrows and only interacting with members of the opposite sex for breeding purposes in the autumn to early spring period (perhaps followed by a bit of grooming). As a rule, it's the females who initiate such activity, although once fucked they will quickly turn aggressive and see off their mates.  
 
Obviously, fat sand rats can't afford to be too relaxed; for they are preyed upon by birds, snakes, desert cats and weasals, so have to be vigilant at all times. When frightened, they squeak, stamp their feet and then scarper below ground.    
 
 
III.
 
Of course, my reason for chooing the fat sand rat as my totem animal doesn't only relate to the fact that - due to the Little Greek's endless baking and years of inactivity due to my Essex exile - I have piled on the pounds. I was also influenced by my new admiration for one of Miró's monumental prints currently on display (and sale) at one of my favourite galleries here in London (Shapero Modern) ... [5]
 
Entitled Le Rat des Sables and printed in 1975 (as a signed series of 50), this work doesn't actually depict a fantastical creature as we are informed in the catalogue. For the sand rat is not a mythical or fictional being that exists only in legends or folk tales. Rather, as indicated above, sand rats - whatever their somatotype - are very much living organisms or biological entities; the result of evolution rather than the human imaginary.
 
Having said that, perhaps having been transformed by Miró into a work of modern art, this particular sand rat with its bold fluid lines and bright red eye, might (at a stretch) be thought of as a type of alibrije; a term coined by Mexican artist Pedro Linares to refer to his brightly coloured zoomorphic sculptures made from papier-mâché [6].    
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Maggie Nelson, The Argonauts (Melville House UK, 2016), p. 139. 

[2] Ibid.
 
[3] Whilst most people today - if they use these terms at all - use them interchangeably, they do, technically, have distinct meanings; a totem animal belongs to a group of people and represents their shared identity or collective spirit; a spirit animal, on the other hand - sometimes called a power animal - is chosen by and called upon by an individual as a guide, or protector, or source of inspiration on their unique life journey.   

[4] Unfortunately for the sand rats, this has led to their use in research into obesity and diabetes. They are also used in tests related to sleep patterns and seasonal affective disorder due to the fact that, like humans, they are diurnal. And, because of their remarkably efficient kidneys - crucial for life in very hot and very dry environments - they are further studied by scientists who think any amount of cruelty to animals can be justified so long as their is some human benefit (be it medical or commercal in nature).   

[5] For a recent post on this exhibition - Joan Miró: Monumental Printmaking (6 Mar - 4 May 2025) - click here. Or to visit the Shapero gallery website directly, please click here.  

[6] This art form originated in Mexico City in the 1930s, when Pedro Linares began creating his surreal creatures after experiencing vivid hallucinations during an illness. His designs, which combined elements of various real animals, became widely known as alebrijes and inspired many other artists and artisans, quickly becoming a significant aspect of Mexican folk art that combined indigenous traditions with modern artistic ideas. 
      Whether Joan Miró was thinking of them when he created his sand rat is not something I am able to say for sure, but it's certainly possible; Frida Kahlo was a fan of Linares and his figures and Miró admired the latter, whom he met during an exhibition in Paris, in 1939. 
 
 

24 Apr 2025

Joan Miró: Monumental Printmaking by An Artist Assassin

Joan Miró: Gargantua (1977) 
Etching and aquatint with carborundum on Arches wove paper 
159.5 x 120 cm
 
 'I try to apply colours like words that shape poems, 
like notes that shape music.' - JM
 
 
I. 
 
I have to admit, I've never been a big fan of Joan Miró - even after all that time living in Barcelona, just down the road from the Parc de Joan Miró, where his magnificent 22-metre high sculpture Dona i Ocell (1983) proudly stands [1].  
 
However, when I heard that there was an exhibition of thirteen large prints by this Catalan artist at Shapero Modern (94, Bond St., London, W1), I knew I wanted to go take a look ... 
 
Because even though Miró is not one of my favourite artists, I do admire the fact that his work is so difficult to classify - some might even describe it as genre-defying - as he moves in a unique space opened up in between Surrealism, Expressionism, and Fauvism. 
 
I also love the fact that in numerous interviews Miró expressed contempt for conventional techniques, declaring himself to be un assassí who wished to eliminate the clichéd visual elements that typically characterise bourgeois painting.
 
So - to the gallery! 
 
 
II.
 
Obviously, I was there to look and not to buy: the lovely print above, signed in white crayon and numbered by the artist (25/50), is £85,000 and that's a bit more than I can afford, unfortunately, and even the more reasonably priced works are still more than I would seriously consider splashing out on. 
 
However, I like to imagine that even a pauper such as myself can appreciate and be touched by art; even if unable to purchase the works. 
 
And, to be honest, I'd rather just briefly glimpse a picture in passing than own it and feel compelled to stare at it in an attempt to get my money's worth of aesthetic pleasure; or attempt to incorporate the picture as an essential part of some fancy interior design; or live in the secret hope that it might one day be sold for at least twice the price paid for it (if not an extraordinary amount more).
 
There are, says D. H. Lawrence, very few people who "wouldn't love to have a perfectly fascinating work" hanging in their home, so that they could "go on looking at it" [2] - well, I'm one of this tiny minority: I love art, but have no desire for property (I even prefer a blank wall, despite Lawence suggesting this is merely a form of snobbism). 
 
 
III. 
 
Although Picasso pipped him by a year, Miró was 90 when he died in 1983 and that's a good age by any reckoning; six years older than Matisse when he passed away and two years older than Renoir. And the fact that he was still producing new work until the very end probably qualifies him as a monster of stamina
     
According to the exhibition's press release, in the final decade of his life, Miró "devoted himself primarily to the art of printmaking, producing some of the most dynamic and ground-breaking prints of his time" [3]
 
And we should be grateful for this; for all thirteen works here are fabulous and demonstrate that he was not only still experimenting in his later years, but had an "exceptional command of printmaking techniques" [4]
 
I was particularly fond of La Femme Arborescent (1974) and Le Rat des Sables (1975), but there wasn't one that didn't delight; mostly due to their vibrant colours, but also to their compositional power and the fact that Miró has the astonishing ability "to transform physical movement into a visual language, blending abstraction with subtle figurative suggestion to convey the pure vitality of dance" [5].  
 
 
IV. 
 
The exhibition is on until 4 May: I would encourage readers who view this post before that date and who may find themselves wandering round Mayfair at some point, to visit and enjoy (even if they can't afford to buy a print). 
 
For even a few moments spent in the presence of these paintings will, I promise, make happy [6].    
 
   
Notes
 
[1] I have explained my fondness for this work in a post published on 16 Feb 2013: click here
 
[2] D. H. Lawrence, 'Pictures on the Wall', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 257. Note that Lawrence concedes, however, that most pictures, like flowers, quickly die and lose their freshness and should thence be immediately thrown away or burnt. 
 
[3-5] Press release / Overview: Joan Miró: Monumental Printmaking (6 Mar - 4 May 2025) at Shapero Modern, London, W1 - click here to read on the gallery website.    
 
[6] That's not something I can promise of the portraits on paper by Egon Schiele, currently shown at the nearby Omer Tiroche Gallery (21, Conduit St., London, W1), but these too are well worth seeing: click here for a post inspired by this exhibition.