jueves, 14 de diciembre de 2017


El próximo lunes 18 de diciembre, el Teatro de la Zarzuela, en coproducción con el Centro Nacional de Difusión Musical (CNDM), presenta al mítico barítono Leo Nucci en un concierto extraordinario dentro del XXIV Ciclo de Lied. Nucci regresa al teatro de la calle Jovellanos después de aquel histórico concierto, hace cuatro temporadas, que permanecerá en la memoria de quienes tuvieron la fortuna de vivirlo: 45 minutos de propinas con el público completamente entregado. En esta ocasión, llega acompañado por James Vaughan al piano para ofrecer un programa compuesto por obras de Verdi, Rossini, Puccini, Tosti, Field y Buzzi-Peccia.

Pasada con creces la sesentena, el indestructible barítono todavía está en condiciones de emitir con prestancia, de frasear con sentido, de expresar con pasión. Muy lírico en sus orígenes, aunque siempre dotado de un timbre brillante, comunicativo y de un reconocible metal, además de una considerable extensión, el artista, nacido en una localidad vecina a Bolonia el 16 de abril de 1942, ha ido oscureciendo su color y ampliando su emisión –que realiza mediante curiosas muecas en busca de la más conveniente direccionalidad del aliento– hasta poder acometer los personajes más exigentes. Nucci aún puede dar lecciones a muchos barítonos más jóvenes de cómo ha de estudiarse y componerse un figura operística. Sea la que sea, se mete en su piel de manera casi violenta; se transmuta y deja de ser él para convertirse en otra criatura sin olvidar una línea de canto muy cuidada. Es sorprendente el mordiente que tiene todavía el artista boloñés en la zona aguda: el fa, el sol e incluso el la salen de su garganta a propulsión. Su canto, sincero y entregado, se nos ofrece a través de una actuación actoral de primera.


Researcher and art historian Jonathan Fineberg discusses the evolutionary and neurological benefits of looking at art.
 Joseph Nechvatal

Jean Dubuffet, “Fluence,” (November 19, 1984), acrylic on canvas-backed paper, 39 1/2 x 52 3/4 in (photo by Ellen Page Wilson, courtesy Pace Gallery; © 2013 Jean Dubuffet/Artists Rights Society/ARS, New York / ADAGP, Paris)

We now know that certain forms of visual art increase connectivity and plasticity in our brains when we engage with their nebulous compositional propositions. Such alternative, neuroplastic wonderlands are something that Jonathan Fineberg is tackling as director of an emerging art-science Ph.D. program at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia.

The program’s budding syllabus is something of an apogee to Fineberg’s carer, building on his experiences as Professor of Art History Emeritus at the University of Illinois and Trustee Emeritus of the Phillips Collection in Washington, DC — where he was founding Director of the Center for the Study of Modern Art. In preparation for this endeavor, Fineberg studied psychoanalysis at the Boston and Western New England Psychoanalytic Institutes. He has curated numerous exhibitions and received numerous awards, including the Pulitzer Fellowship in Critical Writing, the NEA Art Critic’s Fellowship, senior fellowships from the Dedalus Foundation and the Japan Foundation, and the College Art Association’s Award for Distinguished Teaching in the History of Art.

Recently, I talked with him about the innovative neuroaesthetic Ph.D. program that he and his colleagues are now developing at the University of the Arts; about Donald Trump, art, and politics; and about his newest book on modern art and neuroaesthetics, Modern Art at the Border of Mind and Brain.



Ariel Foxman in the living room of his Gramercy Park home, where he has on display two Robert Mapplethorpe photographs, “Mike Spencer,” left, and “Flower.” Credit Adrienne Grunwald for The New York Times
On a recent afternoon Ariel Foxman was having a one-way conversation with his son, Cielo, as he lifted up the newborn “Lion King”-style and then brought him in for a kiss. The baby, just 7 weeks old, was soon asleep on his shoulder.

It’s been a big year for Mr. Foxman, professionally as well as personally. In August, he was announced the chief brand officer for Olivela, an online fashion site that uses part of its proceeds to support children’s health and education. Previously, from 2008 to 2016, Mr. Foxman was editor in chief of InStyle magazine and then editorial director of InStyle and StyleWatch. (For his 2014 wedding, he and his husband, Brandon Cardet-Hernandez, a public school principal, sought advice from the Italian designers Dolce & Gabbana for their formal wear.)

The couple’s apartment, a corner unit in a large, modern building in the Gramercy Park neighborhood of Manhattan, provides a sightly path through his past and present lives. In the living room, the eye travels from a small Tom Wesselmann nude hanging overhead to a photo book about Tupac Shakur and finally to two Robert Mapplethorpe photographs hovering over the couch.

There’s a visual line that traces maturity as well: A skateboard deck by Ryan McGinness in the master bedroom is dwarfed by a 4-foot-by-3-foot painting by Mr. McGinness in the hallway (“The Incredible Dust Collecting Machine”), purchased in the early 2000s, when Mr. Foxman was editor in chief of the short-lived Cargo magazine. Make a left and you’re in the baby’s room, faced with a drawing by Agnes Martin.

In the living room, pictures of Mr. Foxman with Hillary Rodham Clinton and Michelle Obama sit on a mantel next to family photos and a silver menorah. Above them hangs a felt cafe board on which the artist Maynard Monrow wrote with plastic letters, “For your information we the people are all immigrants.”
“We just love the message of the piece,” Mr. Foxman said. “I’m the child of immigrants. My father was a Holocaust survivor. My husband’s father was born in Cuba and came here to this country. We are all immigrants in this country. No one really has ownership to say they’re an American and you’re not.” (The following conversation has been edited for space and clarity.)

Chris Levine’s photograph of Queen Elizabeth II, “Lightness of Being,” also hangs in the Manhattan apartment of Ariel Foxman and Brandon Cardet-Hernandez. Credit Adrienne Grunwald for The New York Times

Do you and your husband ever switch the letters around on that Monrow to make messages like “Do the dishes”?

Now that you’ve suggested it, it might be fun. I just love it having it central in our house, committed to this idea of social justice. The work that my husband does as a principal in the South Bronx and the work that I’m doing with Olivela is all in that vein.

Was it hard to leave journalism?

I feel I’ll always be a journalist. Olivela has an audience. It has content. It has storytelling. It has all the hallmarks of media. At the end of the day it allows women to buy what they love and also improve the lives of children.
At InStyle, and even before, you were involved in social causes.

Philanthropy has always been a piece of what I do — my father [Abraham Foxman] was director of the Anti-Defamation League for nearly 30 years — but it’s never really been the thrust of my day-to-day like it is now at Olivela. My husband and five other educators started a project to work with the school in Haiti in Port-au-Prince called Project Nathanael. I worked with that. I’m on the board of Glaad. I’ve been on the board of Acria for many years.

Is that what brought you to Mapplethorpe?

These are recent acquisitions. The one on the left is Mike Spencer, who Mapplethorpe shot a lot. That’s a 1982 photograph. And then these flowers from 1987. We saw the HBO documentary about him and his work. I remember as a child there was all the controversy and the taboo around him and around sexuality and the graphic nature of the art. That conversation around what’s art and what’s not, what’s pornography and what’s not, it had a huge impact on me.

It’s work that really hits all the marks: aesthetics, politics, identity.

To then have seen that documentary and to get a real sense of what was happening in his life personally — and then the fight to further spread his art and his message — he was so incredibly brave, and there was all these brave people around him working to keep his legacy intact.

And they sit directly across the room from the message about immigration; it’s like a conversation.

The art is a reflection of everything that we’ve collected and bought along the way. And then of course there’s the Jonathan Adler tummy-time gym that sits on the floor below it. Because we have a newborn.




Il teatro musicale in TV è un gioco voyeristico. L'occhio della telecamera privilegia un'inquadratura, sceglie un punto di vista settoriale che lo spettatore presente in sala non è costretto ad adottare. Nell'alternanza di campi lunghi, primi piani e dettagli ci viene propinata una visione che può migliorare un brutto spettacolo oppure impoverirne uno di grande qualità.

Il suono riprodotto ci dà un'idea approssimativa di volumi, accenti, ricami sia orchestrali che vocali. Ma, ed è un ma che racchiude tutte le motivazioni per operazioni di tal fatta, la lirica in televisione o sul grande schermo è una testimonianza per i posteri o semplicemente per chi non potrebbe mai accedere a determinati contenuti.

In poco meno di una settimana ci sono state servite su un piatto due prime, il tradizionale Sant'Ambrogio scaligero e l'apertura della stagione del Teatro dell'Opera di Roma. Premettendo che l'approccio mediato attraverso i microfoni RAI è notoriamente falsato, conseguentemente evitando di soffermarci sulla qualità musicale e sulle prove dei cantanti impegnati nelle due produzioni, ciò che colpisce è il contrasto stridente fra i due mondi. Come due pianeti che orbitano attorno alla stessa stella ma che non si incontreranno mai, siamo entrati in due mondi che sembrano avere nulla in comune se non partitura e libretto.

Per settimane siamo stati bombardati da notizie e rumors sullo stato di avanzamento dell' Andrea Chènier scelto dal Maestro Scaligero Riccardo Chailly, mentre nella capitale si provava senza troppi clamori La Damnation de Faust affidata alle cure di Daniele Gatti.
Giunto il momento del debutto e senza azzardarci a mettere a confronto due lavori che null'altro hanno in comune se non la brevità (appena due ore di musica circa), la prima riflessione che scaturisce a pelle dalle immagini serviteci è che dopo tutto la lirica in TV è un gioco di sguardi. Sguardi che Yusif Eyvasov, Chènier a Milano, tiene incollati sul direttore per la tensione, che Anna Netrebko, Margherita de Coigny nella stessa produzione, lascia vagare nel vuoto, che Pavel Cernoch, Faust a Roma, riempie di paura o di speranza a seconda delle situazioni, che Alex Esposito, Mephistophélès convinto, fissa mellifluo sui colleghi che dividono la scena con lui. Negli occhi dei cantanti impegnati nelle due prime ci sono due mondi e due sistemi di fare teatro musicale.

E' rassicurante e prevedibile lo Chènier scaligero. A chi obietta che il quadro storico, sia pure di sfondo, che Illica serve a Giordano imbriglia qualsiasi velleità registica, basterebbe mostrare un DVD della produzione a firma David Mc Vicar nella quale ogni dettaglio è curato, la gestualità mai ridondante e il gioco di sguardi intrigante. Perchè oggi è impensabile fare teatro musicale con soli costumi sfarzosi e scene eleganti, lasciare che un cantante allarghi le gambe per ghermire un acuto o porti la mano sul petto per dar vita ad un'emozione forte. Non ci sarebbe alcun motivo per fare sei settimane di prove per un debutto molto atteso senza un vero lavoro sulla prestazione attoriale.

Voliamo a Roma e ci immergiamo nella contemporaneità, sia pure in una situazione di vantaggio laddove La Damnation de Faust è un lavoro frammentario intessuto attorno al mito di Faust. Qui Damiano Michieletto sfodera tutto il suo armamentario trash, pulp, e ci fa dimenticare che Veronica Simeoni canta Le Roi de Thulé mentre Mephistophélès insinua le sue mani sotto l'abito rosso di lei. Le difficoltà dell'aria diventano asperità vere e proprie ma il mezzosoprano recita e trascende il suo compito di cantare.

La Marche Hongroise diventa un iperrealistico episodio di bullismo sul Faust mortificato di Cernoch, noi ci crediamo e il nostro è un sentimento empatico così come diventa di repulsione durante la trasformazione di Alex Esposito in grosso e ributtante serpente tentatore prima del duo d'amour.
Al termine dei due spettacoli ci  dimentichiamo facilmente dello spettacolo a cui abbiamo assistito. Andrea Chènier è un altro tassello nella collezione di immagini televisive che ogni giorno ci vengono servite. La Damnation de Faust dal Teatro dell'Opera di Roma continua a frullarci nella mente, e non è affatto facile scrollarci dalla mente situazioni e fotogrammi perchè parla di noi, della contemporaneità e dei guasti dell'oggi.


Pasteur, l'expérimentateur revient sur l’homme et le travail du scientifique. L'exposition s'intéresse au contexte de ses travaux, de ses découvertes et de leurs applications au-delà de la légende. Un parcours à la fois chronologique et thématique, qui trouve tout son sens au Palais de la Découverte qui, dès son ouverture en 1937, présentait une salle (élaborée sous la direction de son petit-fils Louis Pasteur Vallery-Radot) consacrée aux travaux du scientifique.

Peu de savants ont connu la réussite scientifique et sociale de Louis Pasteur, dont nombre d’avenues, d’écoles et d’institutions scientifiques portent le nom, en France mais aussi à l’étranger. C’est à cette grande figure que le Palais de la découverte s’intéresse aujourd’hui, en présentant la « méthode Pasteur », qui caractérise l’ingéniosité scientifique contemporaine. [...] Bruno Maquart (président d’Universcience).

Sous-Rubrique : Sciences & Techniques
Date de début : 14 décembre 2017

Date de fin : 19 août 2018

miércoles, 13 de diciembre de 2017


Celebramos el 40 aniversario del PUNK (1977-2017) con una gran exposición en la que colaboran todos los artistas de la galería, acompañada de infinidad de piezas originales de la época. Fanzines, discos, memorabilia, y casi un centenar de fotos de todos los grupos punk clásicos (Sex Pistols, Clash, Ramones…) firmadas por los fotógrafos que los retrataron en sus comienzos, así como fotos del archivo personal del legendario Danny Fields (My Ramones).

Exposición comisariada por Lindsay Hutton (The Next Big Thing)



By Isaac Kaplan

Aleksandr Deineka, "Bez Boga." (Without God.) and "Zhizn' v gospode boge." (Life Under the Lord God.), illustrations forBezbozhnik u stanka (Atheist at the Workbench), 1926. Courtesy of the Merrill C. Berman Collection.

As this year comes to a close, so too does the centennial of the 1917 Russian Revolution. At the height of the Cold War, it seemed that the revolution was practically unmatched in historical relevance, giving birth to one of the two powers that could light the powder keg of mutually assured destruction and quite literally end the world. But almost three decades after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the legacy of the Russian Revolution—essentially ignored in Vladimir Putin’s Russia—is more murky, especially in light of the horrors of the Soviet regime, including Joseph Stalin’s paranoid purges and the death of untold millions from famine.

So what is to be done to mark, parse, critique the revolution for the centennial in the proverbial West? Some, including leftist art historian T.J. Clark, would prefer we just “let it go.” But a fantastic exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago does just the opposite, focusing on the urgent questions raised by those revolutionaries and artists in 1917.

On view until January 15th, “Revoliutsiia! Demonstratsiia! Soviet Art Put to the Test” is a stunning display of art, photographs, furniture, and other objects created by individuals who questioned the ideologies of the past after the Russian Revolution’s historic break, putting forward a multiplicity of models for what an uncharted future could look like. As curator Matthew S. Witkovsky puts it, the show stems from the core question, “What happens when you have an earth-shaking change in society in which artists are taking a very active part?”
Indeed, the exhibition is grounded in an open-ended questioning, rather than in a chronological march towards the eventual violent repression of the Soviet state under Stalin. “Rather than binding our chosen objects firmly to the fate of a miscarried revolution, ‘Revoliutsiia! Demonstratsiia!’ allows for more skid and slippage between art and history,” write Witkovsky and co-author Devin Fore in the catalogue introduction.

The exhibition is divided into 10 thematic areas (Factory, Festival, and Press among them), which are all worth exploring. The line between art and propaganda was often thin, or even porous. The warm visions of a communal utopia often masked much different realities, or even allowed them to continue, as much as they provided a model to aspire to. …………….