Journal articles on the topic 'Art de la Renaissance – Thèmes, motifs'

The focus of this article is the gardens of the Italian Renaissance, their main motifs of garden art and how these motifs spread through Europe during the centuries. Motifs from the garden art of Firenze and Rome in the fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries were established in France, England and the German speaking countries during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and in Norway during the seventeenth. These gardens started among the Italian aristocracy, but as the gardens and garden motifs went north they were also adopted by the less well to do classes. Still during the twentieth century small parterre gardens with the same lay-out as in the Italian Renaissance could be found in small scale farm gardens in marginal parts of Europe - for example in Norway, Germany and Switzerland. Single garden motifs survived during the centuries, and they were performed in local materials, but the garden concept from the Italian Renaissance had disappeared.

Representations of hybrids of human figures, plants, and animals were prolific in all media in sixteenth-century Italian art. The motif is known back from Greek and Roman antiquity, both in poetry and visual art, which the artists of the sixteenth century – or the renaissance – claimed to revive. Yet the representations of hybrids from these two periods within the history of art differ remarkably. And at the same time they belong to an iconographic tradition that did not disappear in the medieval period, an observation which blurs the picture of these ornaments as rediscovered and revived in the renaissance. How then do motifs such as foliate heads or other phyto- or zoomorph creatures develop in visual art from antiquity to ca. 1600? The topological method can be applied to a tracking of these motifs over time in order to stress continuity and analyze the transformations which took place through the centuries. This article reflects on some methodological and historiographical aspects of studies of motifs in art history. In a double-sided strategy it both aims at challenging the persistent notion of the renaissance as a period rejecting the middle ages and reviving antiquity (i.e. it stresses the continuity of the sixteenth century with the preceding centuries); and it suggest some characteristics of the visual paradigm of sixteenth-century Italian art (i.e. it describes some of the innovations of the period).

The article presents one of the masterpieces of Renaissance Ferrara illumination – the Breviary of Ercole I d’Este (1502–1505). This manuscript was created during the active development of printing, and this fact underlines its special status and importance for the customer, and also demonstrates the stability of artistic traditions at the Ferrara court. At the same period – the first years of the 16th century – the artistic language of the Early Renaissance was changed for completely different traditions of the High Renaissance art. First of all, it was expressed in the leading role of classical motifs. The Breviary of Ercole I demonstrates the development of the classical tradition in Ferrara illumination. The article presents the manuscript in the context of the court culture of Renaissance Ferrara, providing the stylistic and iconographic analysis of the manuscript decor. The creation of the Breviary of Ercole I reflected the identity of his customer, Duke Ercole I d’Este, who contributed to the development of the humanistic culture in Ferrara. At the same time, Ercole I was a very religious man, and his personal religiosity became an important virtue of a ruler. Matteo da Milano, a representative of the Lombard school of book illumination, characterized by the classical ornamental decoration, created the most impressive elements of the manuscript decor. Besides him, there were other artists to decorate the Breviary, but their miniatures are more connected with the 15th century local tradition. In the art of Ferrara, the classical tradition took part of the «politics of magnificence». The abundance of classical motifs in this manuscript, thus, could be the goal of the customer who wished to glorify himself in this special way.

Whatever scholars may think of its value as a work of poetic literature, Shakespeare's All's Well That Ends Well is remarkably entertaining in the theater. Perhaps this is so because it fulfills the fundamental generic responsibility of comedy; it overcomes the death of the fathers through a bawdy emphasis on youthful sexuality and love, and it manipulates mythical plot elements that are subconsciously familiar to any audience in Western civilization. The play skillfully diverts our attention from death and burial to the “little death” of sexual orgasm, from age, illness, and the destruction of war to marriage and the joy of new life. Above all, it is not so much a “problem play” in the Shavian sense as it is a typical work of Renaissance comic art that attempts to unite both the physical and the spiritual elements of human existence within a single structure of the imagination.

Introduction: The phenomenon of expressing national identity in architecture is manifested in many countries and cities. In this article, it is considered in the context of Lviv with the main focus on Jewish architects. Purpose of the study: We are planning to study the process of the emergence of a new Jewish style in the architecture of Lviv from the mid-19th century to the first decades of the 20th century in the context of urban development, and consider the formation of a characteristic art language, together with the corresponding symbolic elements of décor. Methods: We use a comprehensive art approach, which involves the method of systematization for material processing, comparison and synthesis. In the course of the study, we applied comparative analysis, as well as elements of systematic analysis of the Jewish architecture evolution. Results and discussion: We conclude that the architects used several strategies and theories to express Jewish cultural identity in their works, in particular, neo-romantic transformations of medieval, Renaissance and Oriental architecture, rethinking in the spirit of Art Nouveau of the Neo-Moorish style, incorporation of old regional architecture motifs, applying decor saturated with Jewish symbols.

The project Myths and Idols, by the French photographer Travis Durden, came into being in 2015 by means of digital technology. The artist processed photos of nine selected modern sculptures, mostly related to ancient matters, in order to provide them with the attributes or heads belonging to the heroes of the famous Star Wars saga. The sculptures chosen by Durden for his project had been created by European artists (French sculptors and one Italian master) and they are exclusively of an early modern provenance (arising from the Renaissance, Classicism, and Neoclassicism). Not a single work of ancient art is included. However, the classical (ancient) art itself became an object of the Parisian sculptor’s interest in terms of taking early modern art into account as the artists of the latter patterned themselves on ancient samples and picked up ancient subject matters. Likewise, Star Wars in turn constitutes a product of the American pop- culture frequently referring to motifs which had originated in ancient culture. The article discusses all nine photo collages and the whole project is being interpreted. Myths and Idols offers an example of the double reception of ancient culture – the early modern and contemporary ones.

The paper is dedicated to Powiedz, że jestem… (“Tell me that I am…”), one of the last productions directed by Jan Dorman (The State Drama Theatre in Wałbrzych, prem. June 16, 1985). It addresses the issue of memory, linking it to the theme of hiding Jews during World War II. Both these motifs were firmly inscribed in the production, and they referred to a fresh and almost unrecognized issue on Polish stages at the time of the premiere. By addressing the issue of various media of memory and several models of its stage representation, the text attempts to reconstruct both the director’s concept and the artistic shape of the production. And by pointing out the most important departures from Dorman’s previous art practices, it sketches the evolution of Dorman’s concept of his art. Invoking subsequent realisations of the director’s staging concept and the theme of The Jewish “Renaissance” Theatre operating in Wałbrzych (unknown to artists), as contexts, expands the issue of memory in the theatre through including multilateral, performative, functioning of this particular staging.

This article investigates the painted miniatures of manuscripts and early printed books of the second half of the 15th century performed in the art workshops of the Renaissance Venice and Padua. The author determines the main development stages of the principles of space depicting in the picturesque design of manuscripts and printed books. The relevance of study of this topic is caused by the fact that it has been on the periphery of research attention for a long time, obscured by other historical and artistic problems. The scientifi c novelty of the research revealed the new principles of constructing spatial composition and formation of new typology of landscape in Venetian art. For the main research method, the author uses the formal-style analysis and structural analysis. It demonstrates how simultaneously with the change of the sheet decoration structure there appeared the new opportunities for the placement of spatial composition. At an early stage, the manuscript sheet decoration consisted of the depiction of painted architecture treated in the guise of triumphal arch or classical altar with inscription, which gradually has been getting form of imaginary façade with ornaments and fragments of text upon it (the so-called architectural frontispiece type). The next faze consists in the emergence of natural motifs near it and its progressive development in the form of autonomous landscape, which one can see in the works of leading Venetian illuminator in the time circa 1500 Benedetto Bordon. The author investigated the basic types of manuscript decoration that included the depiction of landscape as well as its basic iconographical formulae. The signifi cance of the study lies in that fact which helps to explore the new sources of Venetian mythological painting, going back to the stylistic features and compositional principles of the Late Quattrocento miniature.

AbstractThe introduction and diffusion of Italian Renaissance forms in sixteenth-century Netherlandish art has usually been described as a process initiated by artists who travelled south, adopted the new style and reaped success after their return to the Netherlands. In giving full credit to the artists and considering this phcnomenon to be a process of artistic exchange in the modern sense, art historians have wrongly disregarded the historical circumstances that caused patrons' preference for the new style. The earliest use of Renaissance forms in the Low Countries on a large scale may be observed in the triumphal decorations of the 1515 Joyeuse Entrée of Charles of Hapsburg, the future emperor, in the town of Bruges. From that moment on, Renaissance forms were used abundantly in objects which served as a kind of propaganda for Hapsburg policy, such as church windows and chimney-pieces glorifying Charles v and the Hapsburg dynasty. Antique motifs fitted well in the imperialist visual language favoured by the Hapsburg dynasty and the Dutch nobles who supported its power politics. Derived from imperial Roman monuments, these forms unequivocally alluded to the absolute power of the ancient ancestors of the Holy Roman Emperor, thus legitimizing his authority. In the author's opinion this functional aspect is one of the main reasons for the ready acceptance and diffusion of the Renaissance style in the Low Countries. One of the first artists to travel from the Netherlands to Italy was the painter Michiel Coxcie (Malines 1499-1592). He stayed in Rome from about 1530 to 1538, painting several frescoes in Roman churches which brought him recognition among Italian colleagues. Only one example has survived: the fresco cycle in the chapel of St. Barbara in S. Maria dell'Anima, which he painted between 1532 and 1534. His mastery of the 'maniera italiana', which is evident in these paintings, is highly praised by Vasari, who met Coxcie in Rome in 1532. Vasari also states that Coxcie transferred the 'maniera italiana' to the Netherlands. Upon his return to Malines in 1539, Coxcie received several prestigious commissions, of which perhaps the most outstanding was to paint cartoons for the stained glass windows in the church of St. Gudule in Brussels, with its decoration of triumphal arches glorifying the Hapsburg dynasty. His ability to work in the high Renaissance style gained him the favour of Charles v and his sister, Mary of Hungary, governess of the Netherlands, who engaged him as a court painter. In the said series of Brussels windows, a remarkable change of style regarding the use of Renaissance forms is to be observed after Coxcie started supplying the cartoons in 1541. The windows completed between 1537 and 1540 had been made under the supervision of Bernard van Orley, allegedly Coxcie's teacher. They were rendered in an early Renaissance style characterized by the hybrid Italianate motifs that were in fashion during the 1520S and 1530s. Upon Orley's death in 1541, Coxcie was appointed his successor as cartoon painter for St. Gudule. The first window for which he was responsible, the window of John III of Portugal in the Chapel of the Holy Sacrament, exhibits a distinct caesura: the architectural decoration is high Renaissance in the Vitruvian or Serlian sense and the human faces and postures are derived directly from the examples of Raphael, Leonardo and Michelangelo. After careful perusal of the documents concerning the production of the windows and study of the stylistic differences between the windows made before and after 1541 (and the related preparatory drawings), one cannot but conclude that Michiel Coxcie was the initiator of the use of the high Renaissance style in the Brussels windows. Hitherto Bernard van Orley has been credited for this, on the assumption that he designed the whole cycle, including all its ornamental details and stylistic features. Although his contribution to the diffusion of the high Renaissance style in Netherlandish art was decisive, Michiel Coxcie's return to the Low Countries should not be regarded as the principal incentive for this process. The general predilection for this style to be found after 1540 could be a consequence of the impressive presence of Charles v and his retinue in the Netherlands during that year. The emperor, who came to quell the Ghent resurrection against the central government, brought with him the style that had been used in the triumphal decorations which accompanied his entries to Italian towns during the 1530S. The influence exercised on prevailing taste by the ephemeral monuments erected on the occasion of imperial entries must have been considerable, as the Brussels windows clearly show.

Sports Motifs in Interwar Polish Art — a ReconnaissanceSport is an important cultural phenomenon permeating many spheres of human activity. It has a great strength of influence and is constantly present in art and literature, also in Poland. Artists, especially the ones being lovers of sport, have always been fascinated with the potential existing in different kinds of games. After regaining independence in 1918, physical activity enjoyed great popularity in the awaken­ing Polish state. Sport was seen as achance of broadly understood renaissance of the nation; in addi­tion, its role in preparing the army to fight in the times of still real threats was appreciated. A positive influence of sport on youth was also seen. It also entered the world of art. The aim of this paper is to present Polish artists inspired by sport, also including laureates of the Art Competitions at the Summer Olympics, like for example poet Kazimierz Wierzyński, painter Władysław Skoczylas or sculptor Józef Klukowski. The author analyses both their motivations and the artistic output. The examination is preceded by an introduction showing the beginnings of Polish art inspired by sport and entertainment, whose elements one will find for example in the case of Leon Wyczółkowski or Wojciech Kossak, as well as the beginnings of sports literature. The history of the presence of sport in Polish art and literature is quite rich. The research enquired exploration of the history of Polish antebellum sport, looking over the works of artists interested in sport, as well as familiarising oneself with numerous publications devoted to this phenomenon.

This article explores the artistic relationship between Western European Renaissance art and Mughal painting ca. 1630s at the ateliers in North India. A central theme is the employment of European painterly modes in the Mughal visual tradition that expressed male-male intimacy, carnal desire, and emotional attachment. In particular, the article focuses on the work of the Mughal painter Govardhan, who illustrated the opening scene of Sa‘dī’s Gulistan (Rose Garden). Govardhan built upon sixteenth-century European compositional elements and the themes of Noli me tangere and the Doubting Thomas to form subtle yet unmistakable allusions to male-male sexuality. Cet article explore les relations artistiques entre l’art de la Renaissance européenne et la peinture moghole des années 1630 dans les ateliers du nord de l’Inde. On y traite de l’utilisation de motifs de la peinture européenne dans la tradition visuelle moghole exprimant l’intimité masculine, le désir charnel et l’attachement affectif. Cet article se penche en particulier sur l’œuvre du peintre mogol Govardhan qui a illustré la scène d’ouverture du Gulistan (Rose Garden) de Sa‘dī. Govardhan y a construit son illustration à l’aide l’élément de composition de l’Europe du XVIe siècle, ainsi que sur les thèmes Noli me tangere et du Thomas incrédule, afin de créer une évocation subtile mais univoque de la sexualité homosexuelle masculine.

The problem of reception of the antiquity through tapestries in the Russian historiography was considered. Using as an example the Flemish tapestries of the 15th–16th centuries from the Collection of the State Hermitage Museum, the transformation and popularity of ancient motifs in this art form were demonstrated, as well as their special role in the propaganda of power, high social status, and wealth. The following main elements of tapestries were analyzed: subjects, characters, costumes, and Latin banderoles. The methodology of tapestry analysis is similar to the one used by structuralists: an additional link (customer) is introduced in the author – text – reader research field. The subjects of the tapestries were compared with the plots of the corresponding ancient literary sources. As a result, it was concluded about different perception of the antiquity in the literature and fine arts. Tapestries reflect the attitude of customers to the political reality of that time. The Northern Renaissance and how it was influenced by the ideas of humanists embodied in the tapestries was discussed.

The stone pupil in the parish church of Bazin (Pezinok, Slovakia) is one of the finest specimens of its kind in the territory of mediaeval Hungary. The pulpit is on the left of the triumphal arch of the church. Held by a stocky column, its parapet panels trace the sides of an octagon. The date of origin features on one of the panels as 1523 and the coat of arms at the same place indicates the client who ordered it.Despite the usable data and the high quality of the pulpit, it could hardly make its way into the canon of Hungarian art historiography evolving from the late 19th century. Drawings were made of it, it was registered in the monuments directories, but nobody lifted it into the style historical narrative before Jolán Balogh, and when it took place at last, it was erroneously dated to 1573. In her history of Hungarian renaissance art, she included it with the date 1573 in the chapter on the late renaissance (1940). She cited it rightly as an example of the survival of Italianate forms in the 16th century in all editions of the two-tome manual up to 1973. Then it disappeared from sight again. It was omitted from the university course book (2001). At last, in the renaissance volume of the series on Hungarian art by Corvina Publishers a photo of it was reproduced too (2009).Slovakian art historiography has naturally devoted more attention to it, and also read the date correctly. It is included in the four-volume monuments directory and also in the summaries. It was ascribed a salient place in the great renaissance monograph of 2009 edited by Ivan Rusina. Since the type of the book did not allow images of seals to be presented for analogy, it is worth returning to the problem briefly.The central panel of the parapet carries the coat of arms and the date 1523. In the shield there is an eagle with spread wings, looking to dexter flank. There is an arched banderole (with a rosette in the middle) in front of its crop and a tiny six-point star above its head. On the chief there is a helmet with mantling falling on either side. It is topped with an imperial mitre crown with ribbons, cross and crosier and a crest above. The elements of the coat of arms – the eagle, star and imperial crown – are identical with the motifs in the coat of arms of the Counts of Szentgyörgy and Bazin. The ancient coat of arms of the family, with the six-point star of two colours, was endorsed by Holy Roman emperor Frederic III in 1459. Enikő Spekner pointed out that Count Tamás of Szentgyörgy and Bazin already used a quartered shield in 1496 (with the star in fields 1 and 4 and the eagle in fields 2 and 3) in 1496, and so did seneschal Péter of Szentgyörgy and Bazin, too (1511). On the seal dated 1540 of Kristóf II of Szentgyörgy and Bazin – with whose death the male line of the family died out (1543) – the shield only features the left-looking eagle, and on the chief the imperial crown and peacock feathers can be seen. Changes in the use of the coat of arms cannot be accurately retraced, but the town was the property of the family until 1543 and after Kristóf II’s death it passed to the treasury. The coat of arms strongly suggests that the person who commissioned the pulpit must be sought among the members of the family still alive in 1523. On the younger Bazin line Ferenc and Farkas were alive and shared the office of lord lieutenant of Moson until 1521; the family died out with Farkas’ son Kristóf (his birthdate is not known).The pulpit received coats of white paint and thick gilding in more recent times. Its new wooden abat-voix was made in the 18th century; the medieval stone edifice must have been repaired at that time and on several occasions later. The ornamental elements of the parapet of the basket closely resemble some Italian renaissance antecedents; what may suggest the involvement of northern masters is the regular, rigid symmetry of the cherubim heads, and more emphatically the thick column holding the basket of the pulpit. Its shaft bulges midway, its capital above the necking is embellished with flutes of regularly alternating sizes; on it is a polygonal echinus with concave sides which holds the broadly spreading dense bunch of acanthus leaves. It is like a perfectly spoiled Corinthian column of bad proportions. The origin of this representative monument must be hypothesized from the direction of Vienna, even if no exact analogy can be compared with it at present. Both the network of relations of the landowning family and the geographic proximity support this assumption.

The stone pupil in the parish church of Bazin (Pezinok, Slovakia) is one of the finest specimens of its kind in the territory of mediaeval Hungary. The pulpit is on the left of the triumphal arch of the church. Held by a stocky column, its parapet panels trace the sides of an octagon. The date of origin features on one of the panels as 1523 and the coat of arms at the same place indicates the client who ordered it.Despite the usable data and the high quality of the pulpit, it could hardly make its way into the canon of Hungarian art historiography evolving from the late 19th century. Drawings were made of it, it was registered in the monuments directories, but nobody lifted it into the style historical narrative before Jolán Balogh, and when it took place at last, it was erroneously dated to 1573. In her history of Hungarian renaissance art, she included it with the date 1573 in the chapter on the late renaissance (1940). She cited it rightly as an example of the survival of Italianate forms in the 16th century in all editions of the two-tome manual up to 1973. Then it disappeared from sight again. It was omitted from the university course book (2001). At last, in the renaissance volume of the series on Hungarian art by Corvina Publishers a photo of it was reproduced too (2009).Slovakian art historiography has naturally devoted more attention to it, and also read the date correctly. It is included in the four-volume monuments directory and also in the summaries. It was ascribed a salient place in the great renaissance monograph of 2009 edited by Ivan Rusina. Since the type of the book did not allow images of seals to be presented for analogy, it is worth returning to the problem briefly.The central panel of the parapet carries the coat of arms and the date 1523. In the shield there is an eagle with spread wings, looking to dexter flank. There is an arched banderole (with a rosette in the middle) in front of its crop and a tiny six-point star above its head. On the chief there is a helmet with mantling falling on either side. It is topped with an imperial mitre crown with ribbons, cross and crosier and a crest above. The elements of the coat of arms – the eagle, star and imperial crown – are identical with the motifs in the coat of arms of the Counts of Szentgyörgy and Bazin. The ancient coat of arms of the family, with the six-point star of two colours, was endorsed by Holy Roman emperor Frederic III in 1459. Enikő Spekner pointed out that Count Tamás of Szentgyörgy and Bazin already used a quartered shield in 1496 (with the star in fields 1 and 4 and the eagle in fields 2 and 3) in 1496, and so did seneschal Péter of Szentgyörgy and Bazin, too (1511). On the seal dated 1540 of Kristóf II of Szentgyörgy and Bazin – with whose death the male line of the family died out (1543) – the shield only features the left-looking eagle, and on the chief the imperial crown and peacock feathers can be seen. Changes in the use of the coat of arms cannot be accurately retraced, but the town was the property of the family until 1543 and after Kristóf II’s death it passed to the treasury. The coat of arms strongly suggests that the person who commissioned the pulpit must be sought among the members of the family still alive in 1523. On the younger Bazin line Ferenc and Farkas were alive and shared the office of lord lieutenant of Moson until 1521; the family died out with Farkas’ son Kristóf (his birthdate is not known).The pulpit received coats of white paint and thick gilding in more recent times. Its new wooden abat-voix was made in the 18th century; the medieval stone edifice must have been repaired at that time and on several occasions later. The ornamental elements of the parapet of the basket closely resemble some Italian renaissance antecedents; what may suggest the involvement of northern masters is the regular, rigid symmetry of the cherubim heads, and more emphatically the thick column holding the basket of the pulpit. Its shaft bulges midway, its capital above the necking is embellished with flutes of regularly alternating sizes; on it is a polygonal echinus with concave sides which holds the broadly spreading dense bunch of acanthus leaves. It is like a perfectly spoiled Corinthian column of bad proportions. The origin of this representative monument must be hypothesized from the direction of Vienna, even if no exact analogy can be compared with it at present. Both the network of relations of the landowning family and the geographic proximity support this assumption.

The article begins by explaining the background of sea motifs, which can be understood as sublime in the classical theory of arts, beginning with Pseudo-Longinus and continuing with Boileau and Burke, and the re-visitation of Aristotelian theory by the latter. This part of the article focuses on the observations of grandeur, dramatic change and danger in nature, which were defined as sublime in antiquity (based on examples from Homer and Genesis in Longinus or the Gigantomachy motifs in ancient art), as well as on the role of emotion (pathos) in the Sublime. The Renaissance and Early Modern Sublime reveal the continuation of these trends in Burke’s theories and the landscape descriptions of Radcliffe in the Mysteries of Udolpho. In the latter, we also see a quotation from Beattie’s Minstrel, whose motif of a sea-wrecked mariner represents the same type of sublime as Wordsworth’s Peele Castle (which, in its turn, was inspired by a painting by Sir George Beaumont). This sublimity is felt by human beings before mortal danger and nature’s untamed and excessive forces. In German poetry and art such sublimity can be seen in the works of Hölderlin or Caspar David Friedrich. However, 16th and 17th century poetry and painting rarely focused on such sublimity and preferred the more classical harmonia discors, in which ruins or the sea were just a slight accent underlining general harmony.The article continues, focusing on the sea motifs in Estonian art and poetry. In Estonian art (initially created by Baltic Germans), the reflections of the magnificent Sublime in the paintings by August Matthias Hagen can be seen as the influence of Caspar David. In poetry, we see sublime grandeur in the ode called Singer by the first Estonian poet, Kristjan Jaak Peterson, who compared the might of the words of future Estonian poets to stormy torrents during a thunderstorm, in contrast to the Estonian poetry of his day, which he compared to a quiet stream under the moonlight. The grandeur, might and yearning for sublimity is reflected in the prose poem Sea (1905) by Friedebert Tuglas, who belonged to the Young Estonia movement. This movement was more interested in modernity and city life than in romantically dangerous or idyllic landscapes. However, the main trends of Estonian poetry seem to dwell on idyllic landscapes and quietly sparkling seas, as for example, in a poem by Villem Ridala or sea landscape by Konrad Mägi. We also see this type of sublimity at the end of the 20th and beginning of the 21st centuries in the soundscapes of the sea by Ester Mägi or paintings by Aili Vint.After World War II, the influence of the romantic ode genre and sublime can be seen in a translation of Byron’s Stanzas for Music (1815) by Minni Nurme (1950). In Byron’s gentle, sweet and serene picture of a lulled and charmed ocean, the underlying dimension of the divine, and the grandeur and power of the music is not expressed explicitly. Nurme tries to bring the translation into accord with the ode genre, thereby causing a shift from the serene to the grand sublime, by focusing on the depth of water and feelings, the greatness of the ocean, and most of all, the rupture of the soul, which has been the most important factor in the sublime theory of Pseudo-Longinus. Her translation also seems influenced by her era of post-war Soviet Estonia (so that Byron’s allusions to the divine word have been replaced by the might of nature). In the same period, Estonia’s most vivid description of the romantic sublime appears in the choral poem Northern Coast (1958) composed by Gustav Ernesaks, with lyrics by another Estonian poet, Kersti Merilaas.Coastline in a leap, on the spur of attacking; each other tightly the sea and the land here are holding The rocky banks, breast open to winds, are hurling downwards the pebbles and chunks. Its adversary’s waves now grasp for its feet, gnawing and biting into the shores. Stop now! No further from here, neither of you can proceed any more! Full of might is the sea, more powerful is the land.

Background, objectives and methodology of the research. Musical performing art of the XX–XXI centuries demonstrates a steady and growing interest in a huge array of music from pre-classical eras – the Middle Ages, Renaissance, Baroque. The baroque music occupies a leading position in the field of instrumental performing as an obligatory part of the educational (works by J. S. Bach) and concert repertoire. The problem of interpretation of early music, acutely posed by musicians of the XX century – up to the reconstruction of all historical performance parameters – retains its relevance. In this regard, we note that the performance of a piece of music does not always make off the strongest impression precisely in its “primary” – restored – form, since reconstruction is limited by the volume of our historical knowledge, while modern musical instruments have a much wider range of expressiveness, than theirs historical predecessors, and the modern interpreter – “de facto”, due to his location in the historical space – a much richer thesaurus. So, the aim of this article is systematization, from the standpoint of the teaching experience of its author in the piano class, observations and practical recommendations regarding the style of performing of ancient instrumental music and approaches to its interpretation by a pianist on an instrument of modern construction. The methodology of the study includes an appeal to the intonation theory of B. Asafiev (1971), when considering the dynamic processes of formation of the musical form and the functioning of articulatory units – motifs, phrases, rhetorical figures, strokes, etc.; to the provisions of the works of M. Mikhailov (1981), E. Nazaikinskiy (2003), O. Katrich (2000) concerning the theory of styles; V. Kholopova (1979) and G. Ignatchenko (1983), when considering performance techniques that emphasize the originality of the texture of baroque music; as well as generally accepted methods of scientific research: analysis, selection, structuring of information with its subsequent generalization. Presentation of research results. The study of ancient instrumental music in the piano class is extremely important for the formation of a competent specialist, a musician of a wide range. In the cognitive process, such stages must be passed as determining the style, genre, form of the musical work, identifying the features of the musically expressive means used in it and finding appropriate ways to embody them. It is necessary to make as complete an idea as possible of the past historical epoch, its philosophy, aesthetics, different types of art and their interaction. The purpose of work on pieces of ancient music should be directing а performer to the general laws of “style of the era” (according to M. Mikhailov, 1981), because, despite national differences, by the middle of the XVIII century, a certain “panEuropean” style was formed, which was of great importance for the formation of the next generations of musicians. One of the brightest manifestations of the musical style of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is a close connection between music and the art of rhetoric. When referring to ancient music, performers must take into account the enormous influence that rhetoric had on the formation of musical thinking at that time. The close relationship of the latter with the oratory, which is based on a set of laws and rules, led to the influence of musical-rhetorical figures on the semantics of musical language, and, consequently – on the intonation-declamation sphere of musical text, ways of articulation. The latter were largely determined by the design features of ancient tools. The variety of characteristic techniques of instrumental sound production – expressive touches, among which a special place was occupied by the string strokes (legato, detache, martele, etc.) – has become an integral part of the style of European music of the XVII–XVIII centuries. Transferring them to the field of piano technique is necessary for adequate interpretation of works of this period, requiring the pianist to find appropriate analogues that allow to some extent to reproduce the figurative, articulatory, timbre-color, texture characteristics of the performed work. Modern piano, which due to a fundamentally different method of sound production does not claim to be an authentic reproduction of baroque music, has its own rich arsenal of expressiveness, which allows you to offer the listener no less interesting interpretive content of music of past eras. The art of outstanding pianists of the XX–XXI centuries, to whose audio and video recordings modern performers turn in search of a reference sound (G. Gould, S. Richter, S. Feinberg, T. Nikolaeva, M.Argerich, F. Gulda, G. Sokolov, A. Schiff and others) demonstrates this fact clearly. Conclusions. Not reconstruction, but reproduction of the style, image and spirit of early music becomes the leading principle of working on it in the piano class. And here the pianist should come to the aid of a conscious intonation, based on knowledge of both the general laws of the reproduced style and its characteristic details. The outstanding interpreter of early music V. Landowska (1991: 350) wrote: “One cannot ignore the reading of Quantz’s treatises on playing the flute, Leopold Mozart on the violin, Tosi-Agricola on singing, François Couperin, Rameau, Frescobaldi, Marpurg, K. F. E. Bach and many others – about playing keyboard instruments”. Finding “unexpected treasures” in them, “the disciples are delighted, because they begin to realize what they simply did not pay attention to before. In such cases, you find yourself witnessing an explosion of joy, somewhat reminiscent of the discovery of love”.

Most of the homes in the Budzhak region are interesting historical and architectural sites and deserve attention. Considering their current state, one can see the manifestation of a number of architectural features: well-established national traditions, authorship of folk craftsmen, the influence of academic art, historical architectural styles (Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Classicism, Modernist), as well as the features of serial time. The unifying factor is, on the one hand, the similarity of ideological and creative thoughts and the desire of folk craftsmen to give a compositional and stylistic integrity to the whole object-space environment of the manor (in particular, in the exterior and interior of a dwelling house), on the other-ethnic identity manifests itself perfectly recognizable through ornamental motifs and forms by elements of certain national symbols. The article deals with the national features of the traditional residential architecture of Budzhak Ukrainians, Russians, Bulgarians, Romanians, Moldavians, Gagauzians, Germans, selected for research as the most numerous in the national composition of Budzhak (southern Bessarabia) according to the population censuses from 1822 to 2001. Budzhak's national composition is presented in pie charts. The national identity of the compositional features and decorative and artistic means of expressing the dwellings of Budzhak, in particular its central regions (Saratov and Tatarbunar regions of Odessa region) of the given ethnic groups of the population is revealed. In general, the main large volumes and forms of traditional residential buildings are the construction of walls and roofs. Picturesque volumetric compositions acquire buildings with a combined type of roof that is used to cover the intersecting several volumes of the building, the kind with roofs with artistically decorated attic windows, located both in the plane of the roof slope and on the pediment of the main front. The subjects of detailed consideration and research are: ornamental-plastic decor made of cement, brick, lime, metal. Artistic carving -on wood and metal. Artistic forging, as a rule, has common compositional features with the architecture of the home and the estate as a whole. The entrance to the apartment house is decidedly representative and colorful enough. Borrowing and imitating natural counterparts (prototypes), folk craftsmen have created unique works that clearly reflect interethnic and religious-everyday contacts, professional borrowings, family traditions and the achievements of modern times.Photographic examples of dwellings typical of nationality (the second half of the XIX –the second half of the twentieth century) are given. The collected photos are dated 2015, 2017, 2018. Numerous photo materials of the respective states were considered by the author for the identification of houses by nationality: Ukraine, Russia, Moldavia, ATO Gagauzia, Romania, Germany, Bulgaria. The resulting comparative tables and schemes of ethnic influences are quite large in volume and can therefore be illustrated and analyzed in the next article by the author. However, the features noted briefly atthis stage made it possible to draw some conclusions, which made it possible to distinguish the typical residential homes of the studied national groups from the vast number of mixed types characteristic of the South of Ukraine as a historical and ethnographic region as a whole. The distinctive features of the dwellings of Budzhak Ukrainians, Russians, Bulgarians, Romanians, Moldavians, Gagauzians, Germans are considered and detailed, places of decorative and color accents in the general composition of estates are revealed. Tradition is a form of translation of social experience in the philosophical sense. This or that type of stage borrowing of any object that evolves, including culture, is possible provided that the old goes into the new and works in it productively. Tradition acquires the features of stability when it becomes flexible, dynamic, able to absorb the best qualities of artistic cultures of other nations and groups, and also as a result of self-development. A comprehensive study of the featuresof traditional residential architecture provides the basis for the scientific substantiation of restoration works and the unveiling of the tourist potential of Budzhak. Taking into account the multifaceted architectural forms of residential objects, both geographical and sociocultural, it is possible to identify not only the visual and morphological features of traditional residential buildings of different ethnic groups, but also the semantic structure of the image of traditional architecture, which meansto develop certain techniques for the use of ethnic styles. houses for the future. The obtained factual material of this scientific article can be implemented in a wide range of architectural and design activities, as well as cultural, ethno-cultural and art-science practices.

In the final part of my study I shall present Shakespeare's influence on Slovene dramatists from the 1930s to the present time. In this period an almost unbelievable growth in Slovene cultural activities took place. This is also reflected in a very large number of new Slovene playwrights who have written in this time, in their international orientation in dramatic art as well as in the constantly growing number of permanent (and ad hoc) theatre companies. Communication regarding new theatrical tendencies not only in Europe but also in the United States of America and % during the past decades % also in its global dimension has become much easiers than in previous periods and this resulted also in the application of new dramatic visions in playwriting and in theatrical productions in Slovenia. These new movements include new techniques in writing, such as symbolism, futurism, expressionism, constructivism, surrealism, political drama, the theatre of the absurd and postmodernism, which have become apparent both in new literary techniques and in new forms of production. In this period Classical drama still preserved an important role in major Slovene theatres. Plays written by Greek playwrights, as well as plays written by Shakespeare, Molière, Schiller etc. still constitute a very relevant part of the repertoire in Slovene theatres. Besides, Slovene theatres have also performed many plays written by modern playwrights, as for example by Oscar Wilde, L. N. Tolstoy, I. S. Turgenev, Henrik Ibsen, August Strindberg, G. Hauptmann, G. Büchner, G. B. Shaw, A. P. Chekhov, John Galsworthy, Luigi Pirandello, Eugene O'Neill and many other contemporary playwrights. In the period after the Second World War the influence of American dramatists has been constantly growing. This variety also resulted in the fact that direct influence of Shakespeare and his plays upon Slovene dramatists became less frequent and less noticeable than it had been before. Plays written by Slovene dramatists are rarely inspired by whole scenes or passages from Shakespeare's plays, although there are also some exceptions from this rule. It is rather surprising how quickly Slovene theatres produced works written by important foreign dramatists already in the period following the First World War not to mention how quickly plays written by the best European and American playwrights have appeared on Slovene stages during the past fifty years. The connection between Shakespeare's plays and plays written by Slovene playwrights became more subtle, more sophisticated, they are often based on implied symbolic references, which have become a starting point for a new interpretation of the world, particularly if compared with the Renaissance humanistic values. The sheer number of plays written by Slovene dramatists in this period makes it difficult to ascertain that all influences from Shakespeare's plays have been noticed, although it is hoped that all major borrowings and allusion are included. Slovene dramatists and theatre directors have provided numerous adaptations of Shakespeare's plays, which sometimes present a new version of an old motif so that it may hardly be linked with Shakespeare. Slovene artists, playwrights and 4 also theatre directors, have %rewritten%, %reset% the original text and given it a new meaning and/or a new form, and in a combination of motifs and structure they have thus created a %new play%, even stand-up comedies in which the actor depends on a scenario based on Shakespeare's play(s) but every performance represents a new improvisation. Such productions are naturally closer to the commedia dell'arte type of play than to a play written by Shakespeare. I briefly mention such experimental productions in the introductory part of my study. The central part of my research deals with authors in whose works traces of Shakespeare's influence are clearly noticeable. These playwrights are: Matej Bor, Jože Javoršek, Ivan Mrak, Dominik Smole, Mirko Zupančič, Gregor Strniša, Veno Taufer, Dušan Jovanović, Vinko Möderndorfer and Evald Flisar.

Medieval Dubrovnik was rich in Romanesque figural and decorative sculpture but only a small group of fragmentary carvings has been preserved to date due to the fact that the town suffered a devastating earthquake in 1667. The earthquake completely destroyed the monumental Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin which had been considered “la piu bella in Illyrico” on the basis of its sculptural abundance. Archaeological excavations undertaken beneath the present-day Baroque Cathedral, consecrated in 1713, unearthed several thousand fragments of high-quality sculptures. Their analysis has confirmed the close connections between Dubrovnik and artistic centres in Apulia, which are well known from archival records. This article re-assesses the results of the excavations and the information from the primary sources in a new light and deepens our knowledge about the date, authorship and reconstruction of the thireenth-century pieces under consideration.The article opens with a discussion about the archival record informing us that Eustasius of Trani came to Dubrovnik in 1199 to work as a protomagister of Dubrovnik Cathedral. The document in question was the reason why art historians attributed to him a number of rather damaged, narrative reliefs which replicate the models and forms that can be seen on the portal of Trani Cathedral. Since the sculptor responsible for that portal was not known and given that the contract preserved in Dubrovnik referred to Eustasius as a son of “Belnardi, protomagistri civitati Trani”, the two artists came to be considered as the builders of the Cathedral of S. Nicola Pellegrino at Trani and of several other churches in the Terra di Bari. The sculptures produced by Eustasius and his father were convincingly deemed to display the artistic influence of southern and central France and the same can be observed in Dubrovnik. The article assigns the figure of Christ the Judge from a portal lunette depicting the Last Judgement, which has no parallels in Apulia, to the same group of sculptures and interprets the subject matter as being inspired by the iconography of numerous pilgrimage churches to which Dubrovnik Cathedral also belonged. The assessment of the formal qualities evident in all the carvings demonstrates that they are less refined than those on the portal of Trani Cathedral. Furthermore, the article separates the works of the father from those of the son and suggests that Bolnardus introduced the aforementioned French-style carving method, which had already taken root in Palestine, and that Eustasius followed it. The starting point in the proposed chronology was the Fall of Jerusalem in 1187 and the associated withdrawal of western master carvers alongside the Crusaders. During their stopover at Trani, around 1190, Boltranius was in charge of the carving of the portal of Trani Cathedral where he was helped by his son who left for Dubrovnik in 1199. Based on the visual characteristics of the fragments of architectural decoration, Eustasius is identified as being responsible for the building of Dubrovnik Cathedral according to Apulian taste which appealed to the local patrons as a consequence of their constant exposure to it through numerous trade links and the overall cultural milieu. In fact, Apulian taste was a symbiosis of Byzantine traditions and Romanesque novelties introduced by the Normans, and its allure was grounded in the fact that both the Terra di Bari and Dubrovnik acknowledged the supreme power of these two political forces albeit not at the same time and in unequal measure.The vernacular current in the Romanesque sculpture of Dubrovnik during the second quarter of the thirteenth century can be noted in a small number of works which influenced the decoration of Gothic and Renaissance public buildings. The source of this diffusion can be identified in the decoration of the Cathedral which epitomized the strong artistic connections with southern Italy from where typological and morphological models were borrowed. The redecoration of the Cathedral’s interior, especially the pulpit – recorded for the first time in 1262 – the archaeological remains of which reveal a polygonal structure resting on twelve columns, drew on those very models. Together with the ciborium above the altar in the main apse, the pulpit was praised by local chroniclers and foreign travel writers during the fifteenth century but also by the earliest church visitation records of the mid-seventeenth century. These two monuments belonged to a group of standard Apulian-Dalmatian ciboria and pulpits which also included those that can today be seen in the cathedrals of Trogir and Split but also in many south Italian churches. Some scholars have argued that the source model for this group can be found in Jerusalem but this article suggests that the ciborium from the church of S. Lorenzo fuori le mura in Rome, dated to 1148, presents a more likely option. Particular attention is given to the naturalistic workmanship of a polygonal capital from Dubrovnik Cathedral, which is assigned to the aforementioned pulpit. It is argued that the style of the capital inspired a series of capitals carved à jour on both sides of the Adriatic and that they display characteristics consistent with the manner of carving of Pietro di Facitolo seen at Bisceglie. The exceptional workmanship of the eagle from the same pulpit is attributed to Pasquo di Pietro who was recorded as a protomagister of the Cathedral from 1255 to 1282 and who well regarded as a master carver. His good reputation earned him the citizenship and an estate; he and his son were mentioned in the local documents as “de Ragusio”. The author of the article hypothesizes that Pasquo may have been Pietro di Facitolo’s son, with which he concludes the outline of the sculptural development of the Apulian Romanesque in Dubrovnik and Dalmatia in general.The final part of the article focuses on the only known work of Simeonus Ragusinus who signed himself as “incola tranensis” on the portal of the church of S. Andrea, that is, S. Salvatore at Barletta. The hybrid artistic expression of this eclectic sculptor with a limited gift, who gathered his knowledge from a variety of sources, reveals that he may have borrowed some iconographic motifs from Eustasius’ portal of Dubrovnik Cathedral or from the other two portals. Overall, the article corroborates several hypotheses that were previously expressed in the scholarship while dismissing and rerouting others. At the same time, it emphasizes the scarcity of solid evidence because of the fragmentary nature of the material. The main goal of the article is to present new research findings and widen our perspective on the issue. The article is a revised version of a brief paper presented at the international conference “Master Buvina and his Time” which was held at Split in 2014 and which will be published in a foreign language. I hope that with the addition of new comments and the scholarly apparatus the article will be a useful point of reference to Croatian researchers of similar topics and that it will contribute towards the creation of syntheses about the medieval art in the Adriatic.

Статья посвящена анализу художественной интерпретации мотивов, связанных с образами Трои и Карфагена в книжной миниатюре и декоративной живописи Кватроченто (росписях сундуков cassoni и декоративных панно spalliere). В тексте статьи уделено внимание связи произведений изобразительного искусства с литературными описаниями облика и жизни исчезнувших городов древности, иконографии и семантике эпических сюжетов. Автор приходит к выводу, что художественная интерпретация образа города в искусстве Кватроченто составляла важную часть ренессансного осмысления истории и места человека в ней. При общей условности трактовки античных мотивов художники-миниатюристы и мастера декоративной живописи находили средства и иконографические приемы для отражения ключевых литературных топосов, связанных с историей городов древности. The essay is devoted to the artistic interpretation of motifs, associated with the images of Troy and Carthage in Quattrocento book miniatures and domestic painting (paintings of cassoni and spalliere). The text focuses on the connection between works of fine art and literary descriptions of disappeared ancient cities, iconography and the semantics of epic plots. The author concludes that the artistic interpretation of the image of the city in Quattrocento art was an important part of the Renaissance understanding of history and the place of man in it. Along with the general convention of the interpretation of antique motifs, miniaturists and masters of decorative painting found means and iconographic techniques to reflect the key literary topos associated with the history of ancient cities.

Rainer Maria Rilke’s poetry from 1898 is not held in high esteem by connoisseurs. Scholars focus rather on the ‘Florence Diary’, published posthumously in 1942. As a journal from an educational trip to Florence and Viareggio in the spring of 1898, it records visits to Renaissance artworks, great collections and famous churches, but it does not contain any poetical and lyrical traces. Nevertheless, poems do emerge but their motifs deviate from picturesque vedutas and classical forms; their objects are neither the great examples of art nor the everyday world of tourists but they rather moves to so-called ‘third places’, topographically recognizable in the city periphery and surrounding landscapes as well as the choice of ordinary people as poetic characters, insignificant young girls on their pilgrimage to sacred sites of the Madonna, and remote rituals of popular religion. From these ‘new’ contexts Rilke tries to create a poetry and poetics of his own, which contrasts with the epigonal style of poetry on Italy from central and northern Europe.

The article studies the image system of the poetry of the Executed Renaissance, which is a special artistic phenomenon in Ukrainian and world literature. Among the outstanding representatives of the period are B.-I. Antonych, M. Bazhan, M. Yohansen, H. Koliada, B. Lepkyi, V. Pluzhnyk, M. Rylskyi, M. Semenko, V. Sosiura, P. Tychyna and others. The research analyses erotic images and motifs – the ones realised on the border of the spiritual and the corporeal. The choice of the research data is determined by the esthetics of the analysed period: the authors of the 1920-1930s loved freedom and were free in expressing themselves, they believed there could not be taboos in literature. The analised images are realized in various theme dimensions: sexual relationship, social relationship, intellectual activity, art etc. Because of their specific character they have become a kind of ways of guiding any topic into the area of the most intimate experiences and, as such, the markers of the significance of the depicted. Using different literary techniques, the authors create original images that exist within several discourses, so multidimensionality and various semantic transformations can be pointed out as the specific features of the analysed images. The sensuality of the erotic images created within modernistic esthetics is sometimes intensified by the rhythmomelodics or experiments at the sound or lexical levels. It is pointed out that research of the erotic images in the texts of the representatives of Executed Renaissance is important as in case of ignoring the erotic in literature, we go on living within Soviet discourse. Besides, the actualisation of such imagery has intensified the sensuality and the depth of the text, thus taking Ukrainian literature and language to a new level. Because of the artificial interruption in the natural course of the literary process in Ukraine in the first part of the 20th century, a kind of repetition of the trend can be observed at modern stage. Considering the above, the suggested angle of research on poetry looks still more topical and perspective.

Film directors in American cinema have used the artist (painter, singer, thespian, writer, etc.) as a vehicle for auteurist identification in feature bio-pics for decades. The portrayal of the protagonists in these films usually falls victim to the "Van Gogh" syndrome, that is, the insistance on the creative inner turmoil, the solitary, misunderstood genius, and brave rebellion of its central character. This approach, however, breaks down completely when confronted with the void that is the historical figure known as "Andy Warhol." The popular image of Warhol, his studied superficiality, unapologetic commercialism, and outright catatonic demeanour, is completely disruptive to the traditional humanist artist biography. It is unsurprising, then, that recent film protagonists within the more traditional bio-pic framework found Warhol a figure that needed to be contained, neutralised, discredited, and even shot. Mainstream cinematic narrative has added little to the conventions of the artist biography since the Renaissance. Renaissance painter and biographer Giorgio Vasari appropriated the Petrarchian edifying "Great Lives" model to ennoble and sanitise the often problematic and distasteful personalities who populated the Italian art world. This approach prevailed over the next several hundred years, and was expanded upon by the intellectual figures of the Romantic period (who were very aware of Vasari's work). The Romantics contributed to the profile of a proper artist the following traits: misunderstood intellectual fury, dark psychological depths, and flouting of social convention. The bio-pic genre, especially as it relates to biographies of artists, also lauds humanistic "greatness" as its standard of significance. The bio-pic absolutely relies on a strong central figure, who can be shown in about two hours to have some substantial educational value, worthy of the expense of the film-makers and the attention of the viewer. In the mid-1990s, not long after his unexpected death in 1987, a character called "Andy Warhol" appeared in supporting roles in a number of feature films. The Doors (1991), Basquiat (1996), and I Shot Andy Warhol (1996) all feature an Andy Warhol character grounded squarely in various popular myths. All of the three 90s feature films which include Warhol in a substantial speaking role explicitly contrast him against another artist-figure. This other artist is presented as somehow preferable to Warhol, whether in conviction, authenticity, or validity of vision. The artist in question, Basquiat/Morrison/Solanas, predictably serves as the film-makers' lens through which the past is refracted (though more problematically in the case of Solanas). Warhol is outward sign of Basquiat's slide, the danger of fame-mongering for Morrison, and Valerie Solanas's misogynist nemesis. In each case, the more valorised figure is at first twinned with Warhol when drawn into his orbit. Eventually, the film's narrative contrasts the main subject against what the diegetic Warhol represents. In each case, Warhol becomes a metonymic representation of a larger organising factor: the economic/personality-driven entertainment industry, phallocentric hegemony, art's dead end, etc. The demonisation of Warhol in recent bio-pics is a good starting point for examining how his image is being interpreted by the mainstream media. It is clear that in this particular forum, Warhol's impact is understood only negatively. The purpose of this study will be to demonstrate how uncomfortable the creative arts world in general, and narrative film-making in particular, is with the "empty" legacy of Warhol and his Factory, and how the reactions against it illustrate a fear of Warhol's anti-humanist, subject-less project. It is fascinating that in the feature films, Warhol appears solely as a character in other people's stories rather than as the focus of biographical treatment. Warhol's very conscious emptying-out project has made nearly impossible any effort to deal with him and his legacy in any traditional narrative manner. Warhol's public persona -- simple, boring, derivative, and unheroic -- is directly at odds with the conventional "artist-hero" subjects necessary to the bio pic genre. This type is seen most typically in the old potboilers The Agony and the Extasy, about Michelangelo, and Lust for Life, about Van Gogh, as well as the more recent Artemisia about Artemisia Gentileschi. The very fact of Andy's posthumous film career fits neatly into his performative œuvre as a whole, and is easily interpreted as an extension of his life-long project. Warhol's entire self-imaging stratagem steadfastly affirmed that there is no center to illuminate -- no "real" Andy Warhol behind the persona. Warhol constantly disavowed any "meaning" beyond the surface of his art works, and ascribed it no value beyond market price. He preferred methods and forms (advertising, silk-screening, and film-making) that were easy for his Factory workers to execute and endlessly duplicate after his vague orders. Further, he ascribed no importance to his own bodily shell as "artist Andy Warhol". In an act of supreme self-branding, Warhol sent actors to impersonate him at lectures (most famously at University of Utah, who demanded he return the lecture fee), since he was only a packaged, reproducible product himself. In Warhol's art, there is no hand-made integrity, no originality, no agonised genius in a garret. He displays none of the traits that traditionally have allowed artists to be called geniuses. Warhol's studio's automation, the laying bare of the cheapest and slickest aspects of the culture industry, has long been the most feared facet of Warhol's artistic legacy. It is beside the point to argue that Warhol's meaninglessness is thematised to the degree that it has meaning. Warhol's erasure of all humanistic "aura" clearly remains threatening to a great number of artists, who rely heavily on such artistic stereotypes. Basquiat In 1996's Basquiat, painter/director Julian Schnabel used the dead painter as a proxy for telling his "I was there" version of the 80s New York art scene. In Schnabel's rather heavy-handed morality tale, young African-American painter Jean-Michel Basquiat's meteoric burn-out career is treated as a metaphor for the 80s art world as a whole. Schnabel clearly knows his Vasari. His film's scenario is a barely modified adaptation of humanist/romantic artist mythology. Traces of Vasari's tale of Cimabue's discovery of Giotto, as well as Van Gogh's various misunderstood artist scenarios are laboriously played out. In fact, the first words in the film invoke the Van Gogh cliché, foregrounding Schnabel's myth-making impulse. They are art critic Rene Ricard's, speaking over Basquiat waking up in a cardboard box in Central Park: "everyone wants to get on the Van Gogh boat. ... No one wants to be part of a generation that ignores another Van Gogh, ... When you first see a new picture, you have to be very careful. You might be staring at Van Gogh's ear." This quote sets the tone for Basquiat's art world experience narrative, trotting out every single Van Gogh-inspired legend (with heroin abuse standing in for the cut-off ear) to apply to Basquiat. In fact, the film veritably thematises Romantic cliché. The film's main project is the mythologisation of Jean-Michel and by extension Schnabel. However, by foregrounding the Van Gogh/Basquiat connection in such self-conscious terms, it seems the viewer is supposed to find it "ironic". (The irony is really that this po-mo window dressing is otherwise deeply at odds with the rest of the film's message.) The film suggests that Basquiat is both worthy of the allusion to the great humanistic tradition, and that his special case ("the first great black painter") changes all the rules and makes all clichés inapplicable. Schnabel's art, which is usually described as "Neo-Abstract Expressionist", and particularly his market value, relies heavily on the aura created by previous artists in the macho heroic mold. His paintings take up Pollock's "all over" effect but with de Kooning's jauntier color. He also fastens found objects, most famously broken plates, in a pastiche of Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns. Like Warhol, Schnabel often borrows recognisable motifs. However, instead of advertising and popular culture, Schnabel's come from a more elevated tradition; Old Master paintings appropriated from "legitimate" art history. Needless to say, Julian Schnabel himself has much invested in reaffirming the artist-genius myth that is threatening to be deconstructed by a good number of art critics and historians. Schnabel's agenda is specifically art historical, though no less political. Schnabel, through Basquiat, restores the artist to his proper place as individual creator challenging the outmoded conventions of established art. Warhol, portrayed as the quintessential post-modern artist, represents all that has gone wrong in the art world: superficiality, mass production, commodification, popular culture influence, and the erasure of art history and deep significance. In spite of the film's self-consciousness about the phoniness of the gallery scene, Basquiat's lionisation by it validates a retrograde concept of "pure" artist's vision. Schnabel is attacking what he sees as the deadening effect of post-modernism that threatens Schnabel's own place in art history. Basquiat's escalating drug problem and alliance late in the film with Warhol signals that he has followed the wrong direction, that he is hitting a dead end. The character Milo (Gary Oldman), the Schnabel manqué, sets up the contrast to illustrate Basquiat's slide. Milo is aligned with all that is exemplary in establishment virtues of hearth and home (doting fatherhood, settled domesticity, good living). The wholesome hand-made integrity of Milo/Schnabel's art, in line with traditional definitions of artistic greatness, is deeply at odds with the affected commercialism of Warhol's work. Schnabel's artistic influences show up clearly in his very marked progressive view of art history and clearly named privileged pantheon. In the film, Schnabel is at pains to insert Basquiat and himself into this tradition. The very first scene of the film sees Jean-Michel as a child with his mother at the MOMA, where she is in tears in front of Picasso's Guernica. In the narrative, this is quickly followed by Ricard's Van Gogh quote above. As an adult, Jean-Michel enacts Rauschenberg's edict, to "narrow the gap between art and life". This is illustrated by Jean-Michel not restricting his artistic output to work on canvas in a studio. He graffitis walls, signs table tops à la Rauschenberg, and makes designs on a diner countertop in maple syrup. Later, Jean-Michel is shown painting in his studio walking around the canvas on the floor, in an all-over technique, mirroring the familiar Hans Namuth film of Jackson Pollock. Aligning Jean-Michel with the pre-Warhol, and especially Abstract Expressionist artists, positions Basquiat and Schnabel together against the "dead end" of Warhol's version of Pop. Basquiat and the director have inherited the "right" kind of art, and will be the progenitors of the next generation. Warhol as a "dead end" leads to a discussion of the relationship between artists' procreative sexuality and their art. In the film, Warhol is assumed to be asexual (rather than homosexual), and this lack of virility is clearly linked to the sterility, transitoriness, and barrenness of his art. Schnabel/Milo and Basquiat, in their marked heterosexuality, are the "fathers" of the next generation. In Basquiat's collaboration with Warhol, even Andy understands his own impotence. Warhol says, "I can't teach you anything, you're a natural, are you kidding me?", and most importantly, "you paint out everything I do, Jean-Michel". By privileging Jean-Michel's art (and his own) over Warhol's, Schnabel is clearly trying to paint out the mutation of the Warholisation of art, and paint in his own art historical eugenics. The Doors In a less substantial role but in a similar vein, Warhol also appears briefly in Oliver Stone's 1991 The Doors, as part of a brief "rising fame" montage of New York incidents. Like Schnabel, Stone has a lot to lose from investment in Warhol's spiritual and aesthetic emptiness. Though brief, Warhol's appearance in the film, like in Basquiat, serves as a cautionary tale for its hero. The contrast made between the vacuous Factory crowd and the "authentic" Doors presages the dominant trope for the Warhol character that Schnabel would expand upon later. The Factory sequence dramatises the glamour and seductiveness of the hollow side of fame that may lead Morrison off his spiritual-quest path. The Native American shaman who Jim sees at pivotal points in his life appears at the Factory, warning him not to take the wrong path represented by Warhol. The Doors are at a pivotal moment, the onset of fame, and must act carefully or risk ending up as meaningless as Warhol. Stone's chronicling of the 60s relies heavily on what could be called the humanist ideal of the power of the individual to effect change, raise consciousness, and open minds. Via Stone's simple reductiveness, Warhol represents here the wrong kind of counter-culture, the anti-hippie. By emulating Warhol, the Doors follow the wrong shaman. To Stone, Warhol's superficiality represents all that is dangerous about celebrity and entertainment: the empty, mind-destroying cocaine high of the masses. I Shot Andy Warhol The film I Shot Andy Warhol (1996) problematises the idea put forth in the other films of Warhol as artistic anti-Christ, simply because the film's subject is much more difficult to heroise, and like Warhol does not fit snugly into bio-pic conventions. Like Basquiat, the film also takes the point of view of a protagonist at the edge of Warhol's sphere of influence, here radical feminist and S.C.U.M. (the Society for Cutting Up Men) Manifesto scribe Valerie Solanas, in order to criticise what Warhol represents. Unlike the previous films, here Warhol's character is central to the narrative. Although Warhol clearly represents something very negative to the Solanas character, the film never fully endorses its subject's point of view. That Warhol deserved and needed to be shot for any reason beyond Solanas's personal demons is never established. Perhaps this ambivalence is a flaw of the film, but it is also telling about the problematic legacies of feminism and Pop, two movements that have led to challenges of the hero-artist ideal. In this film, the relationship between Warhol and the main protagonist is extremely complex. Andy and his crowd are presented as clearly odious. Though Valerie comes off as more interesting and sympathetic, she is also still clearly an unhinged oddball spewing specious ideology. Within the film, Valerie's attraction to the Factory scene seems to stem from something her friend, transvestite Candy Darling, says: "if anyone can make you a star, Andy Warhol can". Valerie desperately wants attention for her radicalism (and likely for other psychological reasons, which make radicalism attractive to her, as well), and sees Andy's power for "star-making", especially among the more marginal of society, as something from which she can profit. Valerie's mistake seems to be in confusing the artistic avant-garde with the politically radical. Valerie finds kinship in Warhol's androgyny and lack of enthusiasm for sex, but does not realise immediately that Andy is interested in her play Up Your Ass primarily for its titillation and shock value, and is entirely uninterested in it from a content standpoint. The content/emptiness conflict in Valerie and Andy's "artistic visions" becomes one of the major thematics in the film. Though like Solanas, he finds community with margin-dwellers, Andy is portrayed as far too implicated in and dependent on the so-called culture industry in order to be "Andy Warhol -- Superstar". Andy's interest in the low-life that Valerie represents is, of course, wholly superficial, which enrages her. She sees no worthy theoretical position in the banal contentlessness of Andy's circle. Valerie's manifesto and dramatic works have almost an excess of content. They work to kick people in the balls to get them to open their eyes and see the appalling conditions around them. The Warhol here, like in The Doors, wants people to see empty banality, but has no interest in effecting change. Valerie's play, as read simultaneously in the lesbian coffee shop and at Andy's studio, dramatises this divergence. When Warhol and crowd read the script with dull inflection, inert on the couch, one can imagine the very words being put to use in a Warhol film. When Valerie and friends perform those same words, the passionate engagement and deep meaningfulness -- at least to Valerie -- capture her urgent commitment to her ideas. As Valerie gets more desperate to disseminate her ideas, and thus begins to further alienate the Factory crowd, she starts to see Andy as in fact the bodily symbol of the "man" she wants cut up. Not only does he represent the patriarch of the art world who has dismissed her and has invalidated her vision, but also more broadly the hierarchy and deep structure of Andy's world parallels the consumeristic and image-driven society at large. If Valerie wants to live with integrity within her own code, the "man" must be deposed. On top of the personal gratification she would receive in this act, Solanas would also finally find a world-wide audience for her views. Now we can understand why, when asked by the press why she shot Andy, Valerie tells them "he had too much control over my life." Unhappily, instead of women rising up against their male oppressors to take up their rightful place of superiority, Solanas gets labeled a "lunatic" by the same media and larger establishment which (in this film) proclaim Warhol a genius. Solanas dissolves into a bit-player in the Andy Warhol story. One of the major interests of this film is that it excerpts a player from the limits of that "master narrative" story and allows them their own subjecthood. I Shot Andy Warhol, with its assertive quotational title, seems to want to reinscribe subjecthood to one of the most truly radical of Andy's superstars, reclaiming the value of Valerie's polemics from the emptiness of her anecdotal role in Warhol's biography. Though Valerie clearly sees Andy as her nemesis, the film constructs him as a boring, ineffectual, self-absorbed effete. The great weakness of the film is that their conflict begins to look like a midget wrestling contest. Since both are competing for higher freakdom, the broader implications of either of their projects are only rarely glimpsed. It should be clear by now that for so many, fictional Warhol is not just a problematic figure, but nearly a monstrous one. The film-makers clearly show what elements of Warhol's representative strategy they find so threatening. Schnabel and Stone have the most to lose in the replacement of their value systems (genius investment and 60s macho spirituality) by what they perceive as postmodern de-centredness, and therefore need to attack that threat the most forcefully. Less conservatively, for Harron, Warhol's Pop objectification of everyone, including women, seems to threaten women's hard-won subjectivity through feminism. Warhol, Morrison, Basquiat and Solanas were all artists who played heavily on their roles as outsiders to mainstream society. These films build the film-makers' soapbox on the "right" way to be alienated, bourgeois-hating, and rebellious, and the films assume a sympathetic viewing audience. Even though the interest in Warhol and his flashy milieu probably got at least two of these films made in the first place, it seems clear that even the more independently-minded film establishment would rather align themselves with the romanticised artist bio-pic subject than the black hole they fear Warhol personifies. Perhaps the character Andy Warhol is put to most appropriate use when he is only glimpsed, such as in the films Death Becomes Her, where he appears as one of the party guests for people who have taken the magic potion to live forever, and as part of the 70s glam wallpaper in 54. This kind of "product placement" use of Warhol most succinctly encapsulates the vacant banality he espoused. In these films, Warhol is unburdened by other artists' attempts to fill him up with meaning. Warhol is taken at his word. His easily recognisable and reproducible bodily shell is hollow and superficial, just as he said it was. Warhol, Morrison, Basquiat and Solanas were all artists who played heavily on their roles as outsiders to mainstream society. These films build the film-makers' soapbox on the "right" way to be alienated, bourgeois-hating, and rebellious, and the films assume a sympathetic viewing audience. Even though the interest in Warhol and his flashy milieu probably got at least two of these films made in the first place, it seems clear that even the more independently-minded film establishment would rather align themselves with the romanticised artist bio-pic subject than the black hole they fear Warhol personifies. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Julie Turnock. "Painting Out Pop: "Andy Warhol" as a Character in 90s Films." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.4 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/warhol.php>. Chicago style: Julie Turnock, "Painting Out Pop: "Andy Warhol" as a Character in 90s Films," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 4 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/warhol.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Julie Turnock. (1999) Painting out pop: "Andy Warhol" as a character in 90s films. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(4). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9906/warhol.php> ([your date of access]).

Image matérielle ou image mentale, émanation du geste humain ou production de l’esprit, artefact ou souvenir, l’image recouvre une multiplicité de formes et de significations qui vont des rêves aux dessins d’enfants, des ombres projetées aux peintures célébrées, des traces mnésiques aux images numériques. Tout autant confrontée à cette tension entre matérialité et virtualité, la connaissance anthropologique sur les images, comme les nombreux domaines du savoir qui lui sont associés (sociologie, sémiologie et études médiatiques, principalement) ont proposé des manières distinctes d’aborder les images, abandonnant toutefois aux sciences de l’esprit (psychanalyse et sciences cognitives) la dimension imaginative. Ainsi, deux voies se sont historiquement tracées pour intégrer les apports de la représentation imagée et se partagent, aujourd’hui encore, le domaine de l’anthropologie des images. D’un côté, l’image comme support au discours permet de questionner le potentiel culturel, politique et idéologique de l’image que les chercheurs vont déceler dans des corpus de représentations (publicités, images de la presse, cartes postales, selfies, snapshots et autres illustrations culturelles); de l’autre, l’image comme instrument de recherche dans laquelle la production visuelle des chercheurs (captations photographiques ou filmiques, tableaux, croquis, dessins et plans) est une manière d’accéder à leur terrain d’étude avec parfois pour ambition de proposer une visualisation de leurs résultats de recherche. Pour le dire avec Douglas Harper (1988), l’image peut aussi bien être un objet d’étude sur lequel on porte le regard qu’un instrument de recherche qui conduit ce regard. Si l’anthropologie s’est saisie dès le début du 20e siècle du potentiel expressif et cognitif de l’image avec les travaux photographiques de Margaret Mead et de Gregory Bateson sur les usages sociaux du corps dans la culture Balinaise (1942), et ceux, filmiques, de Robert Flaherty à travers son documentaire sur la population inuite de l’Arctique (1922), c’est l’iconologue et anthropologue Aby Warburg qui, à la même époque, a le plus insisté sur la complémentarité de ces deux formes d’images (matérielles et mentales) comme de ces deux postures de recherche (sur les images et avec les images). En effet, son projet d’un Atlas (2012) – composé de milliers de photographies et baptisé du nom de la déesse grecque de la mémoire, Mnemosyne – avait pour ambition de retracer, par la collecte et l’assemblage d’images, des invariants anthropologiques qui traverseraient les époques et les continents (de la Grèce antique à la Renaissance florentine; des Bacchantes romaines au peuple Hopi d’Arizona), et dont la mise en correspondance permettrait, par-delà les discours, une lecture visuelle de l’histoire culturelle. Dans cette méthode d’interprétation iconologique, les représentations matérielles et l’imagination sont intimement liées dans le processus de connaissance anthropologique : les images sont tout à la fois la source du savoir et son véhicule. Le terme de « formules de pathos » que Warburg propose, exprime, dès lors, le caractère idéal-typique du motif imaginaire qui se répète de représentation en représentation à travers les époques, les espaces et les cultures. La proposition qui, par ailleurs, est faite de mettre le détail au cœur de la démarche de recherche, en insistant sur l’attention aux motifs discrets mais persistants – comme la forme d’un drapé ou le tracé d’un éclair – retrouvera plus tard l’un des impératifs de l’anthropologie interprétative formulée par Geertz et l’effort ténu de description que sa mise en pratique exige (1973). Elle rejoindra également celui de l’anthropologie modale (Laplantine 2013) qui milite pour un mode mineur de la connaissance, à l’image des lucioles qui ne brillent la nuit que pour celles et ceux dont l’acuité sensible est mise au service de cette contemplation. Malgré sa radicalité, le parti pris de considérer les images comme la trame à partir de laquelle l’anthropologie se constitue comme savoir a ceci de fascinant qu’il inspire nombre de recherches actuelles. En effet, dans une société saturée par le visuel et dans laquelle les écrans forgent en partie le rapport au monde, cette voie originale trouve aujourd’hui un écho singulier dans plusieurs travaux d’envergure. Georges Didi-Huberman (2011 : 20) reprend, à son compte, le défi warburgien, autrement dit « le pari que les images, assemblées d’une certaine façon, nous offriraient la possibilité – ou, mieux, la ressource inépuisable – d’une relecture du monde ». De son côté, Hans Belting (2004 : 18) insiste sur le fait que « nous vivons avec des images et nous comprenons le monde en images. Ce rapport vivant à l’image se poursuit en quelque sorte dans la production extérieure et concrète d’images qui s’effectue dans l’espace social et qui agit, à l’égard des représentations mentales, à la fois comme question et réponse ». On le voit, l’héritage de l’iconologie a bel et bien traversé le 20e siècle pour s’ancrer dans le contemporain et ses nouveaux thèmes transversaux de prédilection. Les thèmes de l’expérience et de l’agentivité des images sont de ceux qui redéfinissent les contours de la réflexion sur le sujet en lui permettant de nuancer certains des épistémès qui lui ont préexisté. Désamorçant ainsi le partage épistémologique d’un savoir sur les images, qui témoignerait des représentations véhiculées par les artefacts visuels, et d’un savoir avec les images, qui les concevrait comme partenaires de recherche, on parle désormais de plus en plus d’agir des images aussi bien du côté de l’interprétation culturelle que l’on peut en faire, que du travail des chercheurs qui les captent et les mettent en récit. Par ailleurs, le fait que l’image est « le reflet et l’expression de son expérience et de sa pratique dans une culture donnée [et qu’à] ce titre, discourir sur les images n’est qu’une autre façon de jeter un regard sur les images qu’on a déjà intériorisées (Belting 2004 : 74) », relativise également cet autre partage historique entre image intérieure (mentale) et image extérieure (représentationnelle), image individuelle (idiosyncrasique) et image publique (collective) qui s’enracine dans une généalogie intellectuelle occidentale, non pas universelle, mais construite et située. L’agir des images est alors tout aussi bien l’expression de leur force auratique, autrement dit de leur capacité à présenter une réalité sensible, à faire percevoir une situation sociale, un prisme culturel ou un vécu singulier, mais aussi, celle de leur agentivité comme artefact dans l’espace public. Dans le premier ordre d’idées, l’historienne et artiste Safia Belmenouar, en collectant et en assemblant des centaines de cartes postales coloniales, qui étaient le support médiatique vernaculaire en vogue de 1900 à 1930, montre, à travers un livre (2007) et une exposition (2014), comment les stéréotypes féminins réduisant les femmes des pays colonisés en attributs exotiques de leur culture se construisent socialement, tout en questionnant le regard que l’on porte aujourd’hui sur ces images de femmes anonymes dénudées répondant au statut « d’indigène ». La performance de l’image est ici celle du dessillement que sa seule présentation, en nombre et ordonnée, induit. Dans le deuxième ordre d’idées, l’ethnologue Cécile Boëx (2013) n’hésite pas, dans ses contributions sur la révolte syrienne, à montrer de quelle manière les personnes en lutte contre le pouvoir se servent des représentations visuelles comme support de leur cause en s’appropriant et en utilisant les nouvelles technologies de l’image et l’espace virtuel d’Internet. Les images sont ici entendues comme les actrices des conflits auxquels elles prennent part. L’expérience des images, comme le montre Belting (2004) ou Laplantine (2013), est donc aussi celle dont nous faisons l’épreuve en tant que corps. Cette plongée somatique est, par exemple, au cœur du film expérimental Leviathan (2012), réalisé par les anthropologues Lucien Castaing-Taylor et Véréna Paravel. Partant des images d’une douzaine de caméras GoPro fixées sur le corps de marins de haute mer partis pêcher au large des côtes américaines de Cape Cod, le documentaire immersif fait vivre l’âpre expérience de ce métier ancestral. À l’ère des pratiques photographiques et filmiques amateures (selfies, captations filmiques et montages par téléphones cellulaires) et de l’explosion des environnements numériques de partage (Instagram, Snapchat) et de stockage des données (big data), le potentiel immersif de l’image passe désormais par des pratiques réinventées du quotidien où captation et diffusion sont devenues affaire de tous les corps, indépendamment de leur position dans le champ social et culturel. Critiquées pour leur ambiguïté, leur capacité de falsification et de manipulation, les images ont aussi ce potentiel de remise en cause des normes hégémoniques de genre, de classe et d’ethnicité. Prises, partagées et diffusées de manière de plus en plus massive, elles invitent à l’activité critique afin de concevoir la visualité dans la diversité de ses formes et de ses enjeux contemporains (Mirzoeff 2016). Si aujourd’hui, dans un monde traversé de part en part par les images, l’anthropologie de l’image est un domaine de recherche à part entière dont l’attention plus vive à l’expérience sensible et sensorielle qui la singularise est le prérequis (Uhl 2015), l’iconologie comme méthode anthropologique spécifique répondant aux nouveaux terrains et aux nouvelles altérités a encore du chemin à parcourir et des concepts à inventer afin de ne pas s’enfermer dans le registre instrumental auquel elle est trop souvent réduite. Pour penser l’image dans le contexte actuel de sa prolifération et de la potentielle désorientation qu’elle induit, la tentative d’une iconologie radicale, telle qu’initiée par Warburg, demeure d’une évidente actualité. <

Introduction“From every kind of man obedience I expect; I’m the Emperor of Japan.” (“Miyasama,” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s musical The Mikado, 1885)This commentary is facilitated by—surprisingly resilient—oriental stereotypes of an imagined Japan (think of Oscar Wilde’s assertion, in 1889, that Japan was a European invention). During the Victorian era, in Britain, there was a craze for all things oriental, particularly ceramics and “there was a craze for all things Japanese and no middle class drawing room was without its Japanese fan or teapot.“ (V&A Victorian). These pastoral depictions of the ‘oriental life’ included the figures of men and women in oriental garb, with fans, stilt shoes, kimono-like robes, and appropriate headdresses, engaging in garden-based activities, especially tea ceremony variations (Landow). In fact, tea itself, and the idea of a ceremony of serving it, had taken up a central role, even an obsession in middle- and upper-class Victorian life. Similarly, landscapes with wild seas, rugged rocks and stunted pines, wizened monks, pagodas and temples, and particular fauna and flora (cranes and other birds flying through clouds of peonies, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums) were very popular motifs (see Martin and Koda). Rather than authenticity, these designs heightened the Western-based romantic stereotypes associated with a stylised form of Japanese life, conducted sedately under rule of the Japanese Imperial Court. In reality, prior to the Meiji period (1868–1912), the Emperor was largely removed from everyday concerns, residing as an isolated, holy figure in Kyoto, the traditional capital of Japan. Japan was instead ruled from Edo (modern day Tokyo) led by the Shogun and his generals, according to a strict Confucian influenced code (see Keene). In Japan, as elsewhere, the presence of feudal-style governance includes policies that determine much of everyday life, including restrictions on clothing (Rall 169). The Samurai code was no different, and included a series of protocols that restricted rank, movement, behaviour, and clothing. As Vincent has noted in the case of the ‘lace tax’ in Great Britain, these restrictions were designed to punish those who seek to penetrate the upper classes through their costume (28-30). In Japan, pre-Meiji sumptuary laws, for example, restricted the use of gold, and prohibited the use of a certain shade of red by merchant classes (V&A Kimono).Therefore, in the governance of pre-globalised societies, the importance of clothing and textile is evident; as Jones and Stallybrass comment: We need to understand the antimatedness of clothes, their ability to “pick up” subjects, to mould and shape them both physically and socially—to constitute subjects through their power as material memories […] Clothing is a worn world: a world of social relations put upon the wearer’s body. (2-3, emphasis added)The significant re-imagining of Japanese cultural and national identities are explored here through the cataclysmic impact of Western ideologies on Japanese cultural traditions. There are many ways to examine how indigenous cultures respond to European, British, or American (hereafter Western) influences, particularly in times of conflict (Wilk). Western ideology arrived in Japan after a long period of isolation (during which time Japan’s only contact was with Dutch traders) through the threat of military hostility and war. It is after this outside threat was realised that Japan’s adoption of military and industrial practices begins. The re-imagining of their national identity took many forms, and the inclusion of a Western-style military costuming as a schoolboy uniform became a highly visible indicator of Japan’s mission to protect its sovereign integrity. A brief history of Japan’s rise from a collection of isolated feudal states to a unified military power, in not only the Asian Pacific region but globally, demonstrates the speed at which they adopted the Western mode of warfare. Gunboats on Japan’s ShorelinesJapan was forcefully opened to the West in the 1850s by America under threat of First Name Perry’s ‘gunboat diplomacy’ (Hillsborough 7-8). Following this, Japan underwent a rapid period of modernisation, and an upsurge in nationalism and military expansion that was driven by a desire to catch up to the European powers present in the Pacific. Noted by Ian Ferguson in Civilization: The West and the Rest, Unsure, the Japanese decided […] to copy everything […] Japanese institutions were refashioned on Western models. The army drilled like Germans; the navy sailed like Britons. An American-style system of state elementary and middle schools was also introduced. (221, emphasis added)This was nothing short of a wide-scale reorganisation of Japan’s entire social structure and governance. Under the Emperor Meiji, who wrested power from the Shogunate and reclaimed it for the Imperial head, Japan steamed into an industrial revolution, achieving in a matter of years what had taken Europe over a century.Japan quickly became a major player-elect on the world stage. However, as an island nation, Japan lacked the essentials of both coal and iron with which to fashion not only industrial machinery but also military equipment, the machinery of war. In 1875 Japan forced Korea to open itself to foreign (read: Japanese) trade. In the same treaty, Korea was recognised as a sovereign nation, separate from Qing China (Tucker 1461). The necessity for raw materials then led to the Sino-Japanese War (1894–95), a conflict between Japan and China that marked the emergence of Japan as a major world power. The Korean Peninsula had long been China’s most important client state, but its strategic location adjacent to the Japanese archipelago, and its natural resources of coal and iron, attracted Japan’s interest. Later, the Russo-Japanese War (1904–05), allowed a victorious Japan to force Russia to abandon its expansionist policy in the Far East, becoming the first Asian power in modern times to defeat a European power. The Russo-Japanese War developed out of the rivalry between Russia and Japan for dominance in Korea and Manchuria, again in the struggle for natural resources (Tucker 1534-46).Japan’s victories, together with the county’s drive for resources, meant that Japan could now determine its role within the Asia-Pacific sphere of influence. As Japan’s military, and their adoption of Westernised combat, proved effective in maintaining national integrity, other social institutions also looked to the West (Ferguson 221). In an ironic twist—while Victorian and Continental fashion was busy adopting the exotic, oriental look (Martin and Koda)—the kimono, along with other essentials of Japanese fashions, were rapidly altered (both literally and figuratively) to suit new, warlike ideology. It should be noted that kimono literally means ‘things that you wear’ and which, prior to exposure to Western fashions, signified all worn clothing (Dalby 65-119). “Wearing Things” in Westernised JapanAs Japan modernised during the late 1800s the kimono was positioned as symbolising barbaric, pre-modern, ‘oriental’ Japan. Indeed, on 17 January 1887 the Meiji Empress issued a memorandum on the subject of women’s clothing in Japan: “She [the Empress] believed that western clothes were in fact closer to the dress of women in ancient Japan than the kimonos currently worn and urged that they be adopted as the standard clothes of the reign” (Keene 404). The resemblance between Western skirts and blouses and the simple skirt and separate top that had been worn in ancient times by a people descended from the sun goddess, Amaterasu wo mikami, was used to give authority and cultural authenticity to Japan’s modernisation projects. The Imperial Court, with its newly ennobled European style aristocrats, exchanged kimono silks for Victorian finery, and samurai armour for military pomp and splendour (Figure 1).Figure 1: The Meiji Emperor, Empress and Crown Prince resplendent in European fashions on an outing to Asukayama Park. Illustration: Toyohara Chikanobu, circa 1890.It is argued here that the function of a uniform is to prepare the body for service. Maids and butlers, nurses and courtesans, doctors, policemen, and soldiers are all distinguished by their garb. Prudence Black states: “as a technology, uniforms shape and code the body so they become a unit that belongs to a collective whole” (93). The requirement to discipline bodies through clothing, particularly through uniforms, is well documented (see Craik, Peoples, and Foucault). The need to distinguish enemies from allies on the battlefield requires adherence to a set of defined protocols, as referenced in military fashion compendiums (see Molloy). While the postcolonial adoption of Western-based clothing reflects a new form of subservience (Rall, Kuechler and Miller), in Japan, the indigenous garments were clearly designed in the interests of ideological allegiance. To understand the Japanese sartorial traditions, the kimono itself must be read as providing a strong disciplinary element. The traditional garment is designed to represent an upright and unbending column—where two meters of under bindings are used to discipline the body into shape are then topped with a further four meters of a stiffened silk obi wrapped around the waist and lower chest. To dress formally in such a garment requires helpers (see Dalby). The kimono both constructs and confines the women who wear it, and presses them into their roles as dutiful, upper-class daughters (see Craik). From the 1890s through to the 1930s, when Japan again enters a period of militarism, the myth of the kimono again changes as it is integrated into the build-up towards World War II.Decades later, when Japan re-established itself as a global economic power in the 1970s and 1980s, the kimono was re-authenticated as Japan’s ‘traditional’ garment. This time it was not the myth of a people descended from solar deities that was on display, but that of samurai strength and propriety for men, alongside an exaggerated femininity for women, invoking a powerful vision of Japanese sartorial tradition. This reworking of the kimono was only possible as the garment was already contained within the framework of Confucian family duty. However, in the lead up to World War II, Japanese military advancement demanded of its people soldiers that could win European-style wars. The quickest solution was to copy the military acumen and strategies of global warfare, and the costumes of the soldiery and seamen of Europe, including Great Britain (Ferguson). It was also acknowledged that soldiers were ‘made not born’ so the Japanese educational system was re-vamped to emulate those of its military rivals (McVeigh). It was in the uptake of schoolboy uniforms that this re-imagining of Japanese imperial strength took place.The Japanese Schoolboy UniformCentral to their rapid modernisation, Japan adopted a constitutional system of education that borrowed from American and French models (Tipton 68-69). The government viewed education as a “primary means of developing a sense of nation,” and at its core, was the imperial authorities’ obsession with defining “Japan and Japaneseness” (Tipton 68-69). Numerous reforms eventually saw, after an abolition of fees, nearly 100% attendance by both boys and girls, despite a lingering mind-set that educating women was “a waste of time” (Tipton 68-69). A boys’ uniform based on the French and Prussian military uniforms of the 1860s and 1870s respectively (Kinsella 217), was adopted in 1879 (McVeigh 47). This jacket, initially with Prussian cape and cap, consists of a square body, standing mandarin style collar and a buttoned front. It was through these education reforms, as visually symbolised by the adoption of military style school uniforms, that citizen making, education, and military training became interrelated aspects of Meiji modernisation (Kinsella 217). Known as the gakuran (gaku: to study; ran: meaning both orchid, and a pun on Horanda, meaning Holland, the only Western country with trading relations in pre-Meiji Japan), these jackets were a symbol of education, indicating European knowledge, power and influence and came to reflect all things European in Meiji Japan. By adopting these jackets two objectives were realised:through the magical power of imitation, Japan would, by adopting the clothing of the West, naturally rise in military power; and boys were uniformed to become not only educated as quasi-Europeans, but as fighting soldiers and sons (suns) of the nation.The gakuran jacket was first popularised by state-run schools, however, in the century and a half that the garment has been in use it has come to symbolise young Japanese masculinity as showcased in campus films, anime, manga, computer games, and as fashion is the preeminent garment for boybands and Japanese hipsters.While the gakuran is central to the rise of global militarism in Japan (McVeigh 51-53), the jacket would go on to form the basis of the Sun Yat Sen and Mao Suits as symbols of revolutionary China (see McVeigh). Supposedly, Sun Yat Sen saw the schoolboy jacket in Japan as a utilitarian garment and adopted it with a turn down collar (Cumming et al.). For Sun Yat Sen, the gakuran was the perfect mix of civilian (school boy) and military (the garment’s Prussian heritage) allowing him to walk a middle path between the demands of both. Furthermore, the garment allowed Sun to navigate between Western style suits and old-fashioned Qing dynasty styles (Gerth 116); one was associated with the imperialism of the National Products Movement, while the other represented the corruption of the old dynasty. In this way, the gakuran was further politicised from a national (Japanese) symbol to a global one. While military uniforms have always been political garments, in the late 1800s and early 1900s, as the world was rocked by revolutions and war, civilian clothing also became a means of expressing political ideals (McVeigh 48-49). Note that Mahatma Ghandi’s clothing choices also evolved from wholly Western styles to traditional and emphasised domestic products (Gerth 116).Mao adopted this style circa 1927, further defining the style when he came to power by adding elements from the trousers, tunics, and black cotton shoes worn by peasants. The suit was further codified during the 1960s, reaching its height in the Cultural Revolution. While the gakuran has always been a scholarly black (see Figure 2), subtle differences in the colour palette differentiated the Chinese population—peasants and workers donned indigo blue Mao jackets, while the People’s Liberation Army Soldiers donned khaki green. This limited colour scheme somewhat paradoxically ensured that subtle hierarchical differences were maintained even whilst advocating egalitarian ideals (Davis 522). Both the Sun Yat Sen suit and the Mao jacket represented the rejection of bourgeois (Western) norms that objectified the female form in favour of a uniform society. Neo-Maoism and Mao fever of the early 1990s saw the Mao suit emerge again as a desirable piece of iconic/ironic youth fashion. Figure 2: An example of Gakuran uniform next to the girl’s equivalent on display at Ichikawa Gakuen School (Japan). Photo: Emerald King, 2015.There is a clear and vital link between the influence of the Prussian style Japanese schoolboy uniform on the later creation of the Mao jacket—that of the uniform as an integral piece of worn propaganda (Atkins).For Japan, the rapid deployment of new military and industrial technologies, as well as a sartorial need to present her leaders as modern (read: Western) demanded the adoption of European-style uniforms. The Imperial family had always been removed from Samurai battlefields, so the adoption of Western military costume allowed Japan’s rulers to present a uniform face to other global powers. When Japan found itself in conflict in the Asia Pacific Region, without an organised military, the first requirement was to completely reorganise their system of warfare from a feudal base and to train up national servicemen. Within an American-style compulsory education system, the European-based curriculum included training in mathematics, engineering and military history, as young Britons had for generations begun their education in Greek and Latin, with the study of Ancient Greek and Roman wars (Bantock). It is only in the classroom that ideological change on a mass scale can take place (Reference Please), a lesson not missed by later leaders such as Mao Zedong.ConclusionIn the 1880s, the Japanese leaders established their position in global politics by adopting clothing and practices from the West (Europeans, Britons, and Americans) in order to quickly re-shape their country’s educational system and military establishment. The prevailing military costume from foreign cultures not only disciplined their adopted European bodies, they enforced a new regime through dress (Rall 157-174). For boys, the gakuran symbolised the unity of education and militarism as central to Japanese masculinity. Wearing a uniform, as many authors suggest, furthers compliance (Craik, Nagasawa Kaiser and Hutton, and McVeigh). As conscription became a part of Japanese reality in World War II, the schoolboys just swapped their military-inspired school uniforms for genuine military garments.Re-imagining a Japanese schoolboy uniform from a European military costume might suit ideological purposes (Atkins), but there is more. The gakuran, as a uniform based on a close, but not fitted jacket, was the product of a process of advanced industrialisation in the garment-making industry also taking place in the 1800s:Between 1810 and 1830, technical calibrations invented by tailors working at the very highest level of the craft [in Britain] eventually made it possible for hundreds of suits to be cut up and made in advance [...] and the ready-to-wear idea was put into practice for men’s clothes […] originally for uniforms for the War of 1812. (Hollander 31) In this way, industrialisation became a means to mass production, which furthered militarisation, “the uniform is thus the clothing of the modern disciplinary society” (Black 102). There is a perfect resonance between Japan’s appetite for a modern military and their rise to an industrialised society, and their conquests in Asia Pacific supplied the necessary material resources that made such a rapid deployment possible. The Japanese schoolboy uniform was an integral part of the process of both industrialisation and militarisation, which instilled in the wearer a social role required by modern Japanese society in its rise for global power. Garments are never just clothing, but offer a “world of social relations put upon the wearer’s body” (Jones and Stallybrass 3-4).Today, both the Japanese kimono and the Japanese schoolboy uniform continue to interact with, and interrogate, global fashions as contemporary designers continue to call on the tropes of ‘military chic’ (Tonchi) and Japanese-inspired clothing (Kawamura). References Atkins, Jaqueline. Wearing Propaganda: Textiles on the Home Front in Japan, Britain, and the United States. Princeton: Yale UP, 2005.Bantock, Geoffrey Herman. Culture, Industrialisation and Education. London: Routledge & K. Paul, 1968.Black, Prudence. “The Discipline of Appearance: Military Style and Australian Flight Hostess Uniforms 1930–1964.” Fashion & War in Popular Culture. Ed. Denise N. Rall. Bristol: Intellect/U Chicago P, 2014. 91-106.Craik, Jenifer. Uniforms Exposed: From Conformity to Transgression. 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