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Marguerite's garden in Act 3 of the opera Faust by Gounod as presented in the original production at the Théâtre Lyrique on 19 March 1859. Set design by Charles-Antoine Cambon and Joseph Thierry.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Marguerite's garden in Act 3 of the opera Faust by Gounod as presented in the original production at the Théâtre Lyrique on 19 March 1859.
Speranza
Marguerite's garden in Act 3 of the opera Faust by Gounod as presented in the original production at the Théâtre Lyrique on 19 March 1859. Set design by Charles-Antoine Cambon and Joseph Thierry.
Marguerite's garden in Act 3 of the opera Faust by Gounod as presented in the original production at the Théâtre Lyrique on 19 March 1859. Set design by Charles-Antoine Cambon and Joseph Thierry.
The vision of Margeurite in Faust's study in Act 1 of Gounod's opera Faust as performed at Covent Garden in 1864.
Speranza
The vision of Margeurite in Faust's study in Act 1 of Gounod's opera Faust as performed at Covent Garden in 1864. Méphistophélès was played by Jean-Baptiste Faure, and Faust by Giovanni Mario. From a lithograph on contemporary sheet music cover.
cfr. ENO/Met and La Scala.
The vision of Margeurite in Faust's study in Act 1 of Gounod's opera Faust as performed at Covent Garden in 1864. Méphistophélès was played by Jean-Baptiste Faure, and Faust by Giovanni Mario. From a lithograph on contemporary sheet music cover.
cfr. ENO/Met and La Scala.
Salve, dimora, casta e pura
Speranza
This Faust Builds Atom Bombs (He Still Sings)
It is best to put aside any knowledge you may have of Goethe when attending a performance of Gounod’s “Faust.”
There is beautiful music — stirring ensembles and a few gotcha arias — in Gounod’s score.
But this melodramatic opera is anything but philosophical.
The standard rap against “Fausto” is that Gounod turns the characters into stereotypes, with music to match.
As Gounod presents him, Fausto, an embittered old philosopher who has signed a contract with the Devil, becomes
***************************************
just another in a line of dashing young
tenor heroes pining for a young woman
and showing off his top notes.
***************************************
Gounod’s Mefistofele seems far too charming to be malevolent.
And the pretty young Marguerite is a little shallow, smitten as much by a casket of jewels as by the young Fausto’s ardour.
Who cares?
This melodious opera has been ensnaring audiences since its 1859 Paris premiere.
[La Scala, 1862 -- with G. M. in the title role].
Still, it is better if a production does not look too deeply for elements of existential despair that are simply not in the piece, and that seems the problem with the new “Fausto” that the Metropolitan Opera presented on Tuesday night, a co-production with the English National Opera, directed by the two-time Tony Award winner Des McAnuff in his Met debut.
McAnuff’s acclaimed revival of “Jesus Christ Superstar” is coming to Broadway in the spring.
Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager, who has been actively recruiting directors from the theatre world, brought McAnuff into the “Faust” project.
Tuesday’s performance was conducted by the impressively gifted Yannick Nézet-Séguin and starred the charismatic tenor
Jonas Kaufmann
in the title role.
The production, though rich with ideas and theatrically daring, is finally rather clinical and oppressive.
McAnuff intriguingly updates the story to the period between the world wars.
Fausto, usually presented as an old philosopher who feels he has wasted his life with fruitless scholarship, is here a middle-aged scientist, first seen wearing a sensible three-piece brown suit.
Fausto works in a big laboratory where the atomic bomb is under development.
The staging uses some effective video segments, including huge, mesmerizing black-and-white close-ups of Fausto’s and Marguerita’s faces.
There are moments of aching vulnerability in the dramatic performances that Mr. McAnuff draws from a talented cast.
We will not soon forget one image of the willowy soprano Marina Poplavskaya as Marguerita, her hair shorn short, wearing a baggy blue prison dress and thick leather shoes.
She is placed in a makeshift jail cell, having killed, in a fit of madness, the baby she bore Fausto.
But the grimness and irony that pervade the production feel imposed on Gounod’s opera, not drawn from it.
During the first scene I thought I was going to be swept away.
Robert Brill’s unit set is built of metallic, three-tiered scaffolding with spiral stairways and balconies on both sides.
Yes, tiered sets are becoming standard issue in new Met productions.
But this one is placed at the rear of the stage, not the front, and it frames the action dramatically, at least at first.
But before long, this modern metallic set feels constricting and intrusive.
As the music started, huddled masses walked slowly across the stage.
Twisted figures, presumably the condemned souls whose ranks Faust would soon join.
Though rather heavy-handed, it was a striking sight that captured the mood of the orchestral introduction, with its entwining lines and weighty harmonies, conveyed grippingly in the elegant, darkly textured performance Nézet-Séguin drew from the Met orchestra.
Soon the stage was filled with choristers portraying the scientists on the project, all in white lab coats with note pads in hand.
The costumes are by Paul Tazewell.
Méphistophélès, here the phenomenal bass René Pape, appears as a dapper gentlemen in a cream-white suit holding a fancy cane.
Imagine a diabolical William Powell.
To show the Devil transforming the aging Faust into an eager young man, Mr. McAnuff relies on good old-fashioned stage smoke.
Fausto disappears into a cloud and emerges in a matching white suit, now Mefistofele’s protégé.
I wish the production had had more touches as playful as this one.
The side staircases gave Fausto and Mefistofele vantage points from which to watch the crowd at the inn in Act II, as Valentin, Marguerite’s protective brother (the sturdy baritone Russell Braun), and his friend Wagner (Jonathan Beyer, a fresh-voiced young baritone in a Met debut) join soldiers going off to war.
Singing his chilling song about the golden calf, Mr. Pape’s Méphistophélès especially relishes the line that “Satan led the dance.”
At that moment the dancing crowd breaks into twisted, uncontrollable gyrations (the work of choreographer Kelly Devine).
But I could not imagine what was going on when a couple of soldiers manipulated a gigantic saluting soldier puppet.
And at the end of Act III, when Marguerite succumbs to Faust’s entreaties and Méphistophélès laughs in triumph, another gigantic figure appears, this one a monstrous thing in a black cloak.
Was it Voldemort, come to “Faust”?
Though the singers gave their all, this downer of a production sometimes undermined their work.
Kaufmann, a Met superstar who recently performed a rare song recital on the Met stage, is a handsome, vocally splendid Fausto.
***********************************************
Kaufmann sang the pensive and romantic passages
with veiled dusky colourings and tender lyricism,
and unleashed pent-up power in full-bodied
phrases, capped by fearless high notes.
************************************************
Poplavskaya is a spontaneous, uninhibited artist whose singing, however compelling, can be uneven and quirky, as it sometimes was here.
Still, her sound was shimmering, plush and penetrating.
She excelled in the beautiful “Ballad of the King of Thule,” with its Renaissance-tinged modal harmonies.
And in the “Jewel Song,” in which Marguerite discovers the box of goodies, her scintillating coloratura runs, if not entirely accurate, were heady and ebullient.
Pape’s vocally stentorian Méphistophélès was all suavity and calculation.
The mezzo-soprano Michèle Losier brought a rich voice and impishness to the pants role of Siébel, Faust’s student, who loves Marguerite.
The fine singing and the glowing playing of the orchestra were weighed down by the staging in the final scene.
The delirious Marguerite regains her reason, resists Faust’s entreaties and prays for forgiveness in a soaring melody.
Her redemption is announced by an affirming celestial chorus and pealing organ.
There is nothing subtle about it.
Here, as Marguerite steadfastly climbs tiers of steps to meet her heavenly reward, the choristers, still in white lab coats, stand on the side balconies and stairs, looking oddly serious.
In a final image Kaufmann re-emerges as the weary old Faust in his study, who this time successfully completes his suicide through poison.
Was this the Devil’s way of exacting his due?
Was the whole episode with Marguerite Faust’s dream?
The ending of “Faust” is not exactly ambiguous.
The one thing no one in the audience should feel is confused.
This Faust Builds Atom Bombs (He Still Sings)
It is best to put aside any knowledge you may have of Goethe when attending a performance of Gounod’s “Faust.”
There is beautiful music — stirring ensembles and a few gotcha arias — in Gounod’s score.
But this melodramatic opera is anything but philosophical.
The standard rap against “Fausto” is that Gounod turns the characters into stereotypes, with music to match.
As Gounod presents him, Fausto, an embittered old philosopher who has signed a contract with the Devil, becomes
***************************************
just another in a line of dashing young
tenor heroes pining for a young woman
and showing off his top notes.
***************************************
Gounod’s Mefistofele seems far too charming to be malevolent.
And the pretty young Marguerite is a little shallow, smitten as much by a casket of jewels as by the young Fausto’s ardour.
Who cares?
This melodious opera has been ensnaring audiences since its 1859 Paris premiere.
[La Scala, 1862 -- with G. M. in the title role].
Still, it is better if a production does not look too deeply for elements of existential despair that are simply not in the piece, and that seems the problem with the new “Fausto” that the Metropolitan Opera presented on Tuesday night, a co-production with the English National Opera, directed by the two-time Tony Award winner Des McAnuff in his Met debut.
McAnuff’s acclaimed revival of “Jesus Christ Superstar” is coming to Broadway in the spring.
Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager, who has been actively recruiting directors from the theatre world, brought McAnuff into the “Faust” project.
Tuesday’s performance was conducted by the impressively gifted Yannick Nézet-Séguin and starred the charismatic tenor
Jonas Kaufmann
in the title role.
The production, though rich with ideas and theatrically daring, is finally rather clinical and oppressive.
McAnuff intriguingly updates the story to the period between the world wars.
Fausto, usually presented as an old philosopher who feels he has wasted his life with fruitless scholarship, is here a middle-aged scientist, first seen wearing a sensible three-piece brown suit.
Fausto works in a big laboratory where the atomic bomb is under development.
The staging uses some effective video segments, including huge, mesmerizing black-and-white close-ups of Fausto’s and Marguerita’s faces.
There are moments of aching vulnerability in the dramatic performances that Mr. McAnuff draws from a talented cast.
We will not soon forget one image of the willowy soprano Marina Poplavskaya as Marguerita, her hair shorn short, wearing a baggy blue prison dress and thick leather shoes.
She is placed in a makeshift jail cell, having killed, in a fit of madness, the baby she bore Fausto.
But the grimness and irony that pervade the production feel imposed on Gounod’s opera, not drawn from it.
During the first scene I thought I was going to be swept away.
Robert Brill’s unit set is built of metallic, three-tiered scaffolding with spiral stairways and balconies on both sides.
Yes, tiered sets are becoming standard issue in new Met productions.
But this one is placed at the rear of the stage, not the front, and it frames the action dramatically, at least at first.
But before long, this modern metallic set feels constricting and intrusive.
As the music started, huddled masses walked slowly across the stage.
Twisted figures, presumably the condemned souls whose ranks Faust would soon join.
Though rather heavy-handed, it was a striking sight that captured the mood of the orchestral introduction, with its entwining lines and weighty harmonies, conveyed grippingly in the elegant, darkly textured performance Nézet-Séguin drew from the Met orchestra.
Soon the stage was filled with choristers portraying the scientists on the project, all in white lab coats with note pads in hand.
The costumes are by Paul Tazewell.
Méphistophélès, here the phenomenal bass René Pape, appears as a dapper gentlemen in a cream-white suit holding a fancy cane.
Imagine a diabolical William Powell.
To show the Devil transforming the aging Faust into an eager young man, Mr. McAnuff relies on good old-fashioned stage smoke.
Fausto disappears into a cloud and emerges in a matching white suit, now Mefistofele’s protégé.
I wish the production had had more touches as playful as this one.
The side staircases gave Fausto and Mefistofele vantage points from which to watch the crowd at the inn in Act II, as Valentin, Marguerite’s protective brother (the sturdy baritone Russell Braun), and his friend Wagner (Jonathan Beyer, a fresh-voiced young baritone in a Met debut) join soldiers going off to war.
Singing his chilling song about the golden calf, Mr. Pape’s Méphistophélès especially relishes the line that “Satan led the dance.”
At that moment the dancing crowd breaks into twisted, uncontrollable gyrations (the work of choreographer Kelly Devine).
But I could not imagine what was going on when a couple of soldiers manipulated a gigantic saluting soldier puppet.
And at the end of Act III, when Marguerite succumbs to Faust’s entreaties and Méphistophélès laughs in triumph, another gigantic figure appears, this one a monstrous thing in a black cloak.
Was it Voldemort, come to “Faust”?
Though the singers gave their all, this downer of a production sometimes undermined their work.
Kaufmann, a Met superstar who recently performed a rare song recital on the Met stage, is a handsome, vocally splendid Fausto.
***********************************************
Kaufmann sang the pensive and romantic passages
with veiled dusky colourings and tender lyricism,
and unleashed pent-up power in full-bodied
phrases, capped by fearless high notes.
************************************************
Poplavskaya is a spontaneous, uninhibited artist whose singing, however compelling, can be uneven and quirky, as it sometimes was here.
Still, her sound was shimmering, plush and penetrating.
She excelled in the beautiful “Ballad of the King of Thule,” with its Renaissance-tinged modal harmonies.
And in the “Jewel Song,” in which Marguerite discovers the box of goodies, her scintillating coloratura runs, if not entirely accurate, were heady and ebullient.
Pape’s vocally stentorian Méphistophélès was all suavity and calculation.
The mezzo-soprano Michèle Losier brought a rich voice and impishness to the pants role of Siébel, Faust’s student, who loves Marguerite.
The fine singing and the glowing playing of the orchestra were weighed down by the staging in the final scene.
The delirious Marguerite regains her reason, resists Faust’s entreaties and prays for forgiveness in a soaring melody.
Her redemption is announced by an affirming celestial chorus and pealing organ.
There is nothing subtle about it.
Here, as Marguerite steadfastly climbs tiers of steps to meet her heavenly reward, the choristers, still in white lab coats, stand on the side balconies and stairs, looking oddly serious.
In a final image Kaufmann re-emerges as the weary old Faust in his study, who this time successfully completes his suicide through poison.
Was this the Devil’s way of exacting his due?
Was the whole episode with Marguerite Faust’s dream?
The ending of “Faust” is not exactly ambiguous.
The one thing no one in the audience should feel is confused.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Emma Vecla
Speranza
martes 6 de diciembre de 2011
“LA VIUDA ALEGRE” DE Franz Lehár - TEATRO COLON DE BUENOS AIRES
Fotos: Teatro Colon de Buenos Aires
"La viuda alegre", opereta en tres actos.
Libro: Víctor Léon y Leo Stein. Música: Franz Lehár.
Elenco: Solveig Kringelborn, Matthias Hausmann, Lyuba Petrova, Benjamin Bruns, Reinhard Dorn, Norberto Marcos, Carlos Ullán, Gustavo Zahnstecher, Ernesto Bauer, Natalia Lemercier. Alejandro Meerapfel, Oriana Favaro, Rosemarie Klingenhagen, Marisú Pavón, Leonardo Estévez, Ariel Ramos. Iluminación: Roberto Traferri, Vestuario: Mini Zuccheri, Escenografía: Michael Yeargan, Coreografía: Rodolfo Lastra, Régie: Candace Evans, Ballet Lidia Segni, Coro: Peter Burian. Orquesta Estables del Teatro Colón Gregor Bühl
Franz Lehár, austriaco de nacimiento pero de ascendencia húngara, produjo 19 obras, siendo “La Viuda Alegre” su quinta composición y la que sin duda logró trascender hasta el presente como modelo en su género.
Luego de padecer durante años versiones en español, que desnaturaliza la obra y no dejan de filtrar un sabor a zarzuela, es de celebrar que el Teatro Colón brindará la versión original en alemán, ganando la obra considerablemente, como lo hizo Juventus Lyrica años atrás.
Siempre he creído que para cierre de una temporada, y en época estival, una obra más leve, argumental y musicalmente, es lo más adecuado y el público que concurrió el domingo pasado, en su mayoría turistas o gente no habitué del Colón, celebraron esta función.
Con una puesta "art nouveau" de singular belleza creada por estadounidense Michael Yeargan en el 2001, un magnífico vestuario de Mini Zuccheri, siempre elegante y en estilo, y una excelente iluminación de Roberto Traferri, la parte visual fue un regalo para la vista.
Desgraciadamente no tuvimos la misma suerte en la parte musical y vocal.
El maestro Gregor Bühl brindó una versión de trazos gruesos, tiempos acertados pero carente de sutilezas, que la partitura reclama, y con poco cuidado en la relación foso escenario.
Seguramente un Director más relacionado con el género hubiera sacado mucho más partido de la misma.
El Coro realizó una buena tarea, dentro del marco musical explicitado, mostrándose por momentos un poco estático, problema atribuible a la Reggie de Candace Evans.
Ella supo mover con sentido a los solistas, ayudada en la mayoría de los casos por el buen sentido actoral de los mismos.
Hubo buenos desplazamientos y algunos “gags” que fueron festejados.
Por momentos el Coro permaneció totalmente estático no favoreciendo a la puesta como un todo.
Rodolfo Lastra ideó una muy buena coreografía que fue ejecutada con brillantez por el Ballet estable, tanto en las primeras escenas como en el explosivo Can-Can.
Un muy buen trabajo.
Solveig Kringelborn, quien posee una muy buena figura y se mueve bien como actriz, está lejos de sus buenos tiempos vocales.
Su cantó sonó desparejo, con un centro casi inaudible, agudos destemplados y un persistente vibrato en toda su extensión.
Después de un año donde se repitieron muchos errores de casting me sigo preguntándome como el Teatro Colón hace las contrataciones.
Creo que en nuestro medio varias sopranos pueden hacer un más decoroso papel del rol e internacionalmente cientos.
Por lo menos un misterio…sin indagar más…Lyuba Petrova, a quien ya habíamos apreciado como una correcta Pamina, se mostró más cómoda en Valencienne.
Cantó con seguridad, buena afinación, aunque su volumen parece no ser el más indicado para una sala como la del Teatro Colón, moviéndose bien como actriz.
Matthias Hausmann, como Danilo, fue sin dudas el elemento más positivo del elenco.
Posee una importante voz de barítono lírico, canta con buena técnica, preciso estilo y es un muy buen actor.
Redondeó un trabajo ponderable y lo mejor desde el punto de vista vocal, ayudado además por su buena presencia escénica.
Otro punto positivo de la representación fue el tenor Benjamin Bruns (Camille de Rosillon), poseedor de una buena voz de tenor lírico-ligero, considerable volumen y un canto libre, en estilo y excelente fraseo.
Reinhard Dorn, (Barón Mirko Zeta), un bajo de larga trayectoria, cantó en buena forma y realizó una lograda composición del personaje.
Del amplio elenco cabe destacar a Gustavo Zahnstecher, acertadísimo Njegus, mostrando un gran despliegue actoral.
El resto del elenco local cumplió con corrección, adaptándose muy bien a un estilo al que no están acostumbrados.
Marisú Pavón (Zozó), muy desenvuelta pero en una parte tal vez algo grave para su registro, Alejandro Meerapfel (Kromow), Norberto Marcos (Vizconde Cascada), Leonardo Estévez (Pritschitsch), Ernesto Bauer (Bogdanowitsch), Carlos Ullán (Raoul de St. Brioche) y Rosemarie Klingenhagen (Praskowia) entre otros.
Una versión de “La Viuda Alegre” que no quedará en los anales del Colón, la Opera es básicamente canto y música y una muy buena versión visual no puede compensar otras falencias.
Pero Lehár se presta para pasar un rato agradable y tratar de pensar poco en la muy cuestionada próxima temporada.
martes 6 de diciembre de 2011
“LA VIUDA ALEGRE” DE Franz Lehár - TEATRO COLON DE BUENOS AIRES
Fotos: Teatro Colon de Buenos Aires
"La viuda alegre", opereta en tres actos.
Libro: Víctor Léon y Leo Stein. Música: Franz Lehár.
Elenco: Solveig Kringelborn, Matthias Hausmann, Lyuba Petrova, Benjamin Bruns, Reinhard Dorn, Norberto Marcos, Carlos Ullán, Gustavo Zahnstecher, Ernesto Bauer, Natalia Lemercier. Alejandro Meerapfel, Oriana Favaro, Rosemarie Klingenhagen, Marisú Pavón, Leonardo Estévez, Ariel Ramos. Iluminación: Roberto Traferri, Vestuario: Mini Zuccheri, Escenografía: Michael Yeargan, Coreografía: Rodolfo Lastra, Régie: Candace Evans, Ballet Lidia Segni, Coro: Peter Burian. Orquesta Estables del Teatro Colón Gregor Bühl
Franz Lehár, austriaco de nacimiento pero de ascendencia húngara, produjo 19 obras, siendo “La Viuda Alegre” su quinta composición y la que sin duda logró trascender hasta el presente como modelo en su género.
Luego de padecer durante años versiones en español, que desnaturaliza la obra y no dejan de filtrar un sabor a zarzuela, es de celebrar que el Teatro Colón brindará la versión original en alemán, ganando la obra considerablemente, como lo hizo Juventus Lyrica años atrás.
Siempre he creído que para cierre de una temporada, y en época estival, una obra más leve, argumental y musicalmente, es lo más adecuado y el público que concurrió el domingo pasado, en su mayoría turistas o gente no habitué del Colón, celebraron esta función.
Con una puesta "art nouveau" de singular belleza creada por estadounidense Michael Yeargan en el 2001, un magnífico vestuario de Mini Zuccheri, siempre elegante y en estilo, y una excelente iluminación de Roberto Traferri, la parte visual fue un regalo para la vista.
Desgraciadamente no tuvimos la misma suerte en la parte musical y vocal.
El maestro Gregor Bühl brindó una versión de trazos gruesos, tiempos acertados pero carente de sutilezas, que la partitura reclama, y con poco cuidado en la relación foso escenario.
Seguramente un Director más relacionado con el género hubiera sacado mucho más partido de la misma.
El Coro realizó una buena tarea, dentro del marco musical explicitado, mostrándose por momentos un poco estático, problema atribuible a la Reggie de Candace Evans.
Ella supo mover con sentido a los solistas, ayudada en la mayoría de los casos por el buen sentido actoral de los mismos.
Hubo buenos desplazamientos y algunos “gags” que fueron festejados.
Por momentos el Coro permaneció totalmente estático no favoreciendo a la puesta como un todo.
Rodolfo Lastra ideó una muy buena coreografía que fue ejecutada con brillantez por el Ballet estable, tanto en las primeras escenas como en el explosivo Can-Can.
Un muy buen trabajo.
Solveig Kringelborn, quien posee una muy buena figura y se mueve bien como actriz, está lejos de sus buenos tiempos vocales.
Su cantó sonó desparejo, con un centro casi inaudible, agudos destemplados y un persistente vibrato en toda su extensión.
Después de un año donde se repitieron muchos errores de casting me sigo preguntándome como el Teatro Colón hace las contrataciones.
Creo que en nuestro medio varias sopranos pueden hacer un más decoroso papel del rol e internacionalmente cientos.
Por lo menos un misterio…sin indagar más…Lyuba Petrova, a quien ya habíamos apreciado como una correcta Pamina, se mostró más cómoda en Valencienne.
Cantó con seguridad, buena afinación, aunque su volumen parece no ser el más indicado para una sala como la del Teatro Colón, moviéndose bien como actriz.
Matthias Hausmann, como Danilo, fue sin dudas el elemento más positivo del elenco.
Posee una importante voz de barítono lírico, canta con buena técnica, preciso estilo y es un muy buen actor.
Redondeó un trabajo ponderable y lo mejor desde el punto de vista vocal, ayudado además por su buena presencia escénica.
Otro punto positivo de la representación fue el tenor Benjamin Bruns (Camille de Rosillon), poseedor de una buena voz de tenor lírico-ligero, considerable volumen y un canto libre, en estilo y excelente fraseo.
Reinhard Dorn, (Barón Mirko Zeta), un bajo de larga trayectoria, cantó en buena forma y realizó una lograda composición del personaje.
Del amplio elenco cabe destacar a Gustavo Zahnstecher, acertadísimo Njegus, mostrando un gran despliegue actoral.
El resto del elenco local cumplió con corrección, adaptándose muy bien a un estilo al que no están acostumbrados.
Marisú Pavón (Zozó), muy desenvuelta pero en una parte tal vez algo grave para su registro, Alejandro Meerapfel (Kromow), Norberto Marcos (Vizconde Cascada), Leonardo Estévez (Pritschitsch), Ernesto Bauer (Bogdanowitsch), Carlos Ullán (Raoul de St. Brioche) y Rosemarie Klingenhagen (Praskowia) entre otros.
Una versión de “La Viuda Alegre” que no quedará en los anales del Colón, la Opera es básicamente canto y música y una muy buena versión visual no puede compensar otras falencias.
Pero Lehár se presta para pasar un rato agradable y tratar de pensar poco en la muy cuestionada próxima temporada.
I modelli di Narciso
Speranza
---
I modelli di Narciso a Genova
di Pittura
I modelli di Narciso A Genova fino all'11/2/2007
La Galleria d'Arte Moderna di Genova, dopo l'esordio nella sala delle Reali Poste alla Galleria degli Uffizi, ospita "I modelli di Narciso", una selezione dell'importante collezione di Raimondo Rezzonico, costituita da ben 297 autoritratti di artisti contemporanei.
Sono esposte cinquanta opere (tra dipinti, disegni e fotografie) selezionate all'interno della collezione. Non essendo semplice la scelta in un nucleo di opere così ampio e importante, il curatore dell'edizione fiorentina Antonio Natali, nonché direttore degli Uffizi, ha voluto privilegiare la qualità e la notorietà degli artisti. Si possono quindi ammirare gli autoritratti - specchio degli stati d'animo e dell'interpretazione di sé - nell'arco di un secolo, di molti maestri internazionali, tra i quali Afro, Giacomo Balla, Joseph Beuys, Francesco Clemente, Giorgio De Chirico, Achille Funi, Antonio Ligabue, Oscar Kokoschka, Fernand Léger, Mario Mafai, Henry Matisse, Giacomo Manzù, Guido Peyron, Francis Picabia, Michelangelo Pistoletto, Ottone Rosai, Georges Roualt, Gregorio Sciltian, Scipione, Mario Sironi, Giulio Turcato, Emilio Vedova, Victor Vasarely.
L'artista sceglie se stesso come modello; e ritraendosi accetta il gioco analitico che ognuno, con diversi gradi di competenza, praticherà sulla sua carne viva. La postura del corpo, lo scatto del volto, i lampi degli occhi, l'attitudine affettiva, il corredo d'oggetti: tutto sarà della sua effigie passato al vaglio. E l'esercizio d'una lettura introspettiva godrà di mille varianti, venendosi in esso a sommare le peculiarità psicologiche dell'artista e quelle dell'esegeta.
Accanto agli autoritratti di Filippo De Pisis, Felice Carena, Guido Marussig, Arturo Tosi, Ferruccio Ferrazzi ed Aligi Sassu, documentati nella collezione Rezzonico, compaiono le opere della Galleria d'Arte Moderna, frutto di un'accurata politica d'acquisti attuata alle Biennali di Venezia e alle più importanti mostre nazionali nel periodo tra le due guerre.
Si possono "rileggere" contestualmente anche gli autoritratti di artisti prevalentemente liguri - Giovanni, Antonio Orazio e Tullio Salvatore Quinzio, Alberto Helios Gagliardo, Antonio Giuseppe Santagata, Giulio Monteverde, Federico Maragliano, Donato Altamura, per ricordarne alcuni - già esposti in permanenza nel museo genovese, cui si deve un'attenzione particolare nell'acquisizione di tutto ciò che documenta l'artista, la sua carriera e il suo fare all'interno dello studio (dagli archivi cartacei agli arredi, ai cavalletti, alle tavolozze, ai pennelli, colori, strumenti e così via). Si segnalano inoltre due recenti donazioni: gli autoritratti di Egidio Oliveri (1911-1998) e di Severino Tremator (1895-1940).
Alla cura di Antonio Natali, si affianca la "personalizzazione" dell'edizione genovese della mostra proposta da Maria Flora Giubilei, direttore dei Musei di Nervi, con l'allestimento progettato dagli architetti Giulio Sommariva e Danilo Cafferata.
I modelli di Narciso
A Genova dll'11/10 all'11/2/2007
GAM - Galleria d'Arte Moderna - Villa Saluzzo Serra -
Via Capolungo
ORARIO: tutti i giorni 10.00 - 19.00, lunedì chiuso
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I modelli di Narciso a Genova
di Pittura
I modelli di Narciso A Genova fino all'11/2/2007
La Galleria d'Arte Moderna di Genova, dopo l'esordio nella sala delle Reali Poste alla Galleria degli Uffizi, ospita "I modelli di Narciso", una selezione dell'importante collezione di Raimondo Rezzonico, costituita da ben 297 autoritratti di artisti contemporanei.
Sono esposte cinquanta opere (tra dipinti, disegni e fotografie) selezionate all'interno della collezione. Non essendo semplice la scelta in un nucleo di opere così ampio e importante, il curatore dell'edizione fiorentina Antonio Natali, nonché direttore degli Uffizi, ha voluto privilegiare la qualità e la notorietà degli artisti. Si possono quindi ammirare gli autoritratti - specchio degli stati d'animo e dell'interpretazione di sé - nell'arco di un secolo, di molti maestri internazionali, tra i quali Afro, Giacomo Balla, Joseph Beuys, Francesco Clemente, Giorgio De Chirico, Achille Funi, Antonio Ligabue, Oscar Kokoschka, Fernand Léger, Mario Mafai, Henry Matisse, Giacomo Manzù, Guido Peyron, Francis Picabia, Michelangelo Pistoletto, Ottone Rosai, Georges Roualt, Gregorio Sciltian, Scipione, Mario Sironi, Giulio Turcato, Emilio Vedova, Victor Vasarely.
L'artista sceglie se stesso come modello; e ritraendosi accetta il gioco analitico che ognuno, con diversi gradi di competenza, praticherà sulla sua carne viva. La postura del corpo, lo scatto del volto, i lampi degli occhi, l'attitudine affettiva, il corredo d'oggetti: tutto sarà della sua effigie passato al vaglio. E l'esercizio d'una lettura introspettiva godrà di mille varianti, venendosi in esso a sommare le peculiarità psicologiche dell'artista e quelle dell'esegeta.
Accanto agli autoritratti di Filippo De Pisis, Felice Carena, Guido Marussig, Arturo Tosi, Ferruccio Ferrazzi ed Aligi Sassu, documentati nella collezione Rezzonico, compaiono le opere della Galleria d'Arte Moderna, frutto di un'accurata politica d'acquisti attuata alle Biennali di Venezia e alle più importanti mostre nazionali nel periodo tra le due guerre.
Si possono "rileggere" contestualmente anche gli autoritratti di artisti prevalentemente liguri - Giovanni, Antonio Orazio e Tullio Salvatore Quinzio, Alberto Helios Gagliardo, Antonio Giuseppe Santagata, Giulio Monteverde, Federico Maragliano, Donato Altamura, per ricordarne alcuni - già esposti in permanenza nel museo genovese, cui si deve un'attenzione particolare nell'acquisizione di tutto ciò che documenta l'artista, la sua carriera e il suo fare all'interno dello studio (dagli archivi cartacei agli arredi, ai cavalletti, alle tavolozze, ai pennelli, colori, strumenti e così via). Si segnalano inoltre due recenti donazioni: gli autoritratti di Egidio Oliveri (1911-1998) e di Severino Tremator (1895-1940).
Alla cura di Antonio Natali, si affianca la "personalizzazione" dell'edizione genovese della mostra proposta da Maria Flora Giubilei, direttore dei Musei di Nervi, con l'allestimento progettato dagli architetti Giulio Sommariva e Danilo Cafferata.
I modelli di Narciso
A Genova dll'11/10 all'11/2/2007
GAM - Galleria d'Arte Moderna - Villa Saluzzo Serra -
Via Capolungo
ORARIO: tutti i giorni 10.00 - 19.00, lunedì chiuso
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